Zombie Story - Back from the Dead - Conclusion

Zombie Story - Back from the Dead - Part 1

or The Cows Ate the World (?)

And here's the conclusion to this project (one person picked two words to be used, the writer writes something using those words. They then 'tag' the next person with two words tehy must use, and so on and so on)

By (so far): Qbryzan, Sue, Doghouse, Garvis, D.A. and Susan

WORDS: RAGLAN and OSSIFY

"Yes, dear, I love you, too, and I'll meet you at the airport on Friday when your plane lands."

Dr. Frank Sponforth smiled as he set the phone down and thought to himself. "Ah, my wife the journalist lives the life. Last month a trip to the Grand Canyon and now she's off researching Mt Karioi in Raglan, New Zealand. And here I sit in a lab waiting for this bacteria sample to ossify."

Sponforth turned on the radio as he waited.

" . . . from Iowa of uncontrolled zombie activity. No further . . . authorities . . . this time . . . l stay on the air as long as. . . "

Static took the signal and despite his frantic attempts Sponforth was unable to get it back.

"Iowa", he thought. "That's where my brother Randy is. Damn this radio!".

The bell on the agitating dri-bath brought him back to the lab.

"Wait a minute. The bacteria sample in the dri-bath. Could it be? But no, it couldn't. They told me this was a top-level government test to assess developments into treatment for the common cold. Hmm, there's nothing common here at all."

Sponforth grabbed the blood samples just as the lights went and the lab's alarm system came to life.

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WORDS: LANA TURNER and BABBLE

"Damn Alarms! They scared me half to death. Any second now I'm going to start to babble like Lana Turner!" Sponforth fumed.

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WORDS: BLUDGEON and HIRSUTE

Sponforth ran into his colleagues office. Dr. Malcolm was a highly regarded expert on bacteria, zombies,Iowa and for some unfathomable reason, fishie treats. Malcolm was also short. Very short. And hirsute as well.
"Dr. Malcolm, we have to leave. The alarm is going off, there are zombies in Iowa, I'm babbling like Lana Turner or Tina Turner and dammit I forgot to set the Tivo for Heroes. We have to hurry."

Malcolm stared at him and at the blood samples in Sponforth's hand. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly eight o'clock. If they were going to set that Tivo they would have to leave now. The alarm continued to sound. Malcolm started to hop down off his stool when he remembered something. He grabbed a large hammer he just happened to have sitting by his workstation.

"Follow me," Malcolm yelled to Sponforth as he dashed for the locked cabinet on the other side of the lab. He had kept the hammer close by just in case he ever had to bludgeon a zombie with it, but right now there was a more important task. He swung the hammer, shattering the cheap lock that barred the cabinet doors. He swung open the cabinet and stared at a dwindling supply of fishie treats. "Quick gather these up," he barked.

Sponforth was taken aback by the animalistic tone in Malcolm's voice and stared at him blankly. Malcolm looked back at him and sighed. Sponforth would never be as brilliant as Malcolm was. Malcolm shook his head and looked up at Sponforth. "Don't you understand? Save the fishie treats, save the world."

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WORDS: POSTULATE and PRESTIDIGITATION

As I began this story the human race was exhaling its last breath. For awhile there was a spark of hope, a thought that maybe, after all, we'd have the knowledge and wherewithal to band together and pull though. Dr. Malcolm was our last hope as his genius in this area was unequaled. He was close to a cure and hope sprang, but his love for fishie treats was his undoing when he was taken one night three months past as he reached blindly into the cabinet for a fresh box to satisfy his late-night craving.
His last gift to us was that the Roamers not only remain active by night, but can logic and anticipate our actions. I can postulate all night, but to what end? Will anyone remain to read these memoirs? Will the memoirs themselves survive what might be planet earth's final apocalypse? Will I be the last person to utter a rhetorical question? I can only hope, but really, what is hope?

A few of us remain and we camp in the rolling hills of West Virginia. It's not ideal, but the sheep are friendly and what remains of the US Postal Service runs on time. There are hardships for sure as fresh water is scarce and dry cleaners are all but extinct. Last week we lost one of our small band when he demanded that someone take his designer DiGitation shirt to the dry cleaners. "I want my DiGitation shirt cleaned and laundered.", he screamed. He was clearly delusional and we wondered secretly if it wasn't the fever taking him, but we humored him nonetheless while keeping our distance just in case.

"Relax, Julius, the laundries have all been abandoned or burned."
"No. It's not true. I know it's not true."
"I'm sorry."
"But I need them. I need to look good. I have to go into the office and I can't look messy in front of Pam. I need someone to launder and press da Digitation."

He ran off screaming and waving the precious DiGitation over his head and the last we heard from him were his agonized screams echoing off the unforgiving Appalachian foothills.

Things haven't improved in the last few months and we hear them moving closer with each passing day. The sheep have fled and we keep our fires small and try and limit our movements to the night hours, but none of us are hopeful. My only fear now is that when they finally come for me there will be no one left to speak out.

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WORDS: THE and END

But then suddenly, as if appearing from no where, a swirl of dust on the road... I swear I could hear some music. Could it be? Are there others? Is this what we have been hoping for? As the swirl of dust got closer.. the music louder... the lyrics more pronounced.

"Well, we live in a trailer
at the edge of town
You never see us
'cause we don't come around.
We got twenty five rifles
just to keep
the population down."

I realized that this might not be the saving grace I had hoped for.

"But we need you now,
and that's why
I'm hangin' 'round.
So you be good to me
and I'll be good to you,"

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of the driver. Orange. Orange!

"And in this land of conditions
I'm not above suspicion
I won't attack you,
but I won't back you."

It Was! He was Alive! Orange! Cat Hair flying out the window! Dr Malcolm! I couldn't believe it was him! Alive! And Here!

"Yes, that was me with the doves,
setting them free
near the factory
Where you built your computer,
love.
I hope you get the connection,
'cause I can't take the rejection"

He was driving a jeep. As he came out of the dust cloud I could see him better. His vehicle was filled in the back to the top! Oddly it looked like Christmas Ornaments! Could it be! Had be put together the most awesome form of retaliation!

"Well, I'm a barrel of laughs,
with my carbine on
I keep 'em hoppin',
till my ammunition's gone.
But I'm still not happy,
I feel like
there's something wrong."

He pulled up.. and then it became obvious. He had traveled the world, collecting christmas ornaments off the bottoms of peoples christmas trees. He hid them under chairs, all the while redesigning their purpose. Making them in to the ultimate weapon.

"I got the revolution blues,
I see bloody fountains,
And ten million dune buggies
comin' down the mountains.
Well, I hear that Laurel Canyon
is full of famous stars,
But I hate them worse than lepers
and I'll kill them
in their cars. "

We would prevail! We would win! We would bring back humanity!

The End.