Free Zombie Society - They Live Among Us by K. Bartholomew

at least three were busy pitching tents on the front lawn. Can they do that?
    John crashed on the bed, pressing a button on the TV remote. Surely they weren’t covering the story on the main news channels.
    Two talking heads; one human and one mort sat either side of the anchor. “ I just think it’s time we had the conversation about morts .” The human wore a yarmulke, which he readjusted on his head.
    The mort dribbled down his Armani suit, “ we make contribution too, we deserve slice of pie .” After a few minutes of trying to understand what the mort was saying, John stood and peered again through a gap in the curtains.
    “Oh Christ.” John gawped at a group of morts stumbling down the street, pushing over trash cans at random. Had they arrived to target him because of what he did the day before? No, he dismissed that idea immediately – This was nothing unusual after all.
    “ It’s clear that the dead make an invaluable contribution to society .”
    One of the creatures thrust its head inside a trash can before settling on what looked, from John’s viewpoint, like a half-eaten chicken. Another grabbed a cat that was rolling around on a car hood and crammed the feline’s head down his throat, biting down. John winced and shifted focus to the nearer mort who crept down the street toward the news crews.
    “ Indeed, without morts, our economy would grind to a halt. In fact, I would argue that our entire nation is culturally richer now than ever before. It is these evil mortists, such as John Quinn who prevent integration and assimilation from taking place .”
    The mort approached an elderly woman from behind as she pottered down the street, shopping in hand. She didn’t hear the footsteps. The first she knew she was being attacked was when she hit the ground.
    “ Our ability to stand up and protect the rights of all in the mort community will be a test of our own humanity. We face a critical choice between a future of happiness in an assimilated society, or a future measured by higher walls and longer fences. It is sad that in every generation we need to continue to fight the battles of ignorance, intolerance, bigotry and hate .”
    John watched as more morts arrived and tore into the woman’s flesh, while the cameras below continued to film his front door.

A Match Made In…Um
     
    “Does anyone have any more Scotch?” The slim, blonde reporter asked her crew. “If I’m to get through being around these freaks another day, I’m gonna need more Scotch.” The director passed her a small metallic flask which she took, unscrewing the cap and taking a long pull.
    Shannon stood behind the camera crew where the crowd grew as the minutes past. She yanked on Teejay’s arm, “let’s try get behind the reporter woman, maybe we can get in shot.”
    “Arg,” Teejay said, not wanting to move, only wanting to continue drooling as he stared at his date’s esophagus. He had no option though, as Shannon pulled him around in an arc until they emerged between the reporter and the KFC to the rear.
    The cameraman took a couple steps to the side, forcing Shannon to move with it. She threaded a hand in the crack of Teejay’s elbow, pulling him along with her. Shannon sniffed, she’d become used to the stench Teejay omitted but that which drifted over on the breeze was something different entirely.
    “What the fuck is that?” The blonde reporter grimaced and took another pull from the flask. She covered her breathing apparatus, taking a few breaths before removing her hands and scrunching up her nose.
    Murmurs of discomfort swept through the crowd like a Mexican wave as the rotten stench grew stronger. Shannon gazed at the KFC, the exterior decorated in pink flowers for the occasion. She couldn’t see inside very well, but it looked like the tables were suitably covered in finery. Even the staff had turned out in their best. But it was the groom, who waited by cash register number 2 who stole the