|
|
|
When The Dead Walk (Chapter 6) |
| Written by Robbie | |
| Sunday, 10 February 2008 | |
|
Share it:      Joe Hanson was nervous. So nervous he almost pissed his pants. The gun he held was shaking along with his hands. "What the hell am I doing?" he asked himself out loud. No answer. Joe put the gun in his desk drawer. He was planning on killing someone. Someone who had always treated him like ****. But not today. Today that someone was going to die. Joe heard the knock on the door just as he closed the desk drawer. He stepped out of his office and into the living room where the front door was. Joe answered it. An old man stood there on his porch. The old man Joe was planning on killing. "Come in, come in." Joe said. "Hello, boy. I'm thirsty. Get me a damn scotch!" the old man commanded. "Yes sir." Joe said. Joe walked into his office, pulled open his desk drawer, and picked up the gun. The gun was a revolver. That's all Joe knew. He wasn't very good with remembering gun names. Joe shoved the gun in his back pocket. "Where's that damn scotch?" the old man barked from the living room. "Almost there," Joe called back. Joe stepped into the kitchen. He pulled a small glass cup out of the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of scotch. He got some ice cubes from the freezer, put them in the glass, and poured the scotch until it reached the very top rim. "Here you go," Joe said in the living room as he handed the old man his scotch. The old man snatched the scotch and drank it all in one chug. "Get me another!" the old man shouted. "Get me another you ******* lazy bum!" "Go to hell," Joe said. Joe pulled the gun from his back pocket and aimed at the old man's head. Before the old man could react, Joe pulled the trigger. BOOM! a loud shot rang out. The bullet hit the old bastard square between the eyes. Joe immediately started to cry. He ran to the phone, dropping his gun along the way. He grabbed the phone, and dialed in Frank's number. Frank was his best friend. "Hello?" Frank said. "Frank! I killed somebody man! I'm a murderer!" "What?!?!?! Who did you kill?" "My father!"
That night, Frank came over and helped lift the body of Joe's father in the back of Joe's truck. "Listen," Frank said, "we'll dump the body in the river along with some bricks to weigh him down. Then, we can get the hell out of the town, and live in Chicago. Chicago is the perfect place. The cops'll never find us." "How do you know?" "I don't." Joe drove down the road while Frank sat in the back of the truck with the body. In the passenger seat, the gun that had killed Joe's father sat. Joe would put that in his father's pocket. Maybe the cops would think it was suicide. Maybe not. After twenty minutes, Joe heard the scream from the back. Joe slammed the brakes. He jumped out and looked in the back. And screamed. Frank was standing up, looking deformed and decayed. He looked like a zombie. And next to Frank, was the body bag. It was up straight. In the body bag contained Joe's dead father. And slowly, the body bag's zipper began to unzip, all by itself. In a matter of seconds, the body bag fell to the ground, and reavealed Joe's father, Ed. "Where's my damn scotch, boy?!?!" Ed screamed. "Hello, Joey." Frank rasped. "Need anymore help?" The two zombie's came toward Joe. The pale moonlight illuminated the two undead-kind-of-dead things. Frank ran back into the truck. But the zombies broke the window. They both grabbed for Joe, while Joe screamed.He reached out to grab the revolver. No use.But suddenly, Joe punched one of the zombies. He forgot which one. But it didn't matter, because now Joe had the gun. He shot Frank in the head. Frank went down. Then he shot Ed. Ed went down too. Joe started the car, and drove off. "From now on," Joe said out loud. "I'm fighting those things. I'll kill all of them. And soon, they'll fear me. I'll kill those damn zombies. I'll kill 'em all!" Copyright 2008 Robbie |
|
| Last Updated ( Sunday, 10 February 2008 ) |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|
via Email
