Flip This Zombie Read Online Free
Author: Jesse Petersen
to your house Christmas Eve, that’s for sure.
“You
really
want to argue with the ump?” he laughed. “That’s how you get thrown out of a game. Now, why don’t we clear the rest of the building?”
I shrugged as I folded my arms with what I admit was a bit of a childish pout. “What’s the point? There are no bionic zombies.”
“Did you really think there were?” Dave asked as he shot me a look from the corner of his eye.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Jimmy seemed so… so…
honest
about being afraid of whatever he saw here. There are a lot of ways you could describe that guy, but honest isn’t normally one of them. I guess it just caught my attention.”
“I still say he was drunk… or stoned,” Dave said with a shrug as he motioned me deeper into the church. “Actually, I’m going to ask him to pay us the second half of his debt with whatever he’s been smoking. Sounds fun.”
For the next twenty minutes we didn’t talk much as we cleared the rest of the big building. There wasn’t anything else to be found, though. As we returned to the van and reloaded our stuff, I shook my head.
“It’s never been that empty,” I mused as I stared up at the pristine building amidst collapsed and ruined hell.
Dave nodded. “Yeah. Normally we find a couple of lurkers and a half-dead pilgrim per trip.”
“It’s kind of creepy,” I whispered.
He patted my arm as we finished loading up. “Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe the pilgrims have finally gotten the message that it isn’t safe. If they stopped coming here, the zombies would have to find somewhere else to go for their buffet.”
I continued to stare at the building even as I climbed into the van for the return trip to Jimmy’s hideout. “
Maybe
. I mean, I hope so. But there’s something just so
off
about it.”
Dave turned in his seat to face me. “Come on, Sarah, you aren’t letting yourself get all caught up in Jimmy’s ghost… er,
zombie
story, are you?”
I shrugged. “Why can’t it be possible that there are different kinds of zombies? That maybe there
are
ones who are stronger?”
“Because the zombies were made by people and those people are all long gone. Those… those
creatures
are just lumps of empty flesh that can’t…
die
like they’re supposed to. They don’t evolve or think or feel, they just feed. You know that.” He turned the key and the engine roared to life. “Or at least you should after all this time.”
I frowned as I stared out the window in silence. Part of me knew that Dave was right. That I was just letting myself get worked up by a drunk with a vivid imagination.
But part of me still wondered, as we turned away from the church and crossed over the shambled tracks of what used to be the Metro, if what No-Toes said about bionics was possible.
And what would happen if it was.
Who moved my cheese? And my shotgun?
W hen we pulled back up to Jimmy’s barbershop a short while later, things were almost back to normal. Or… whatever the closest thing was in the zombieverse. I won’t say I was totally convinced that the bionics didn’t exist, but I was well on my way to putting them out of my mind.
“Want to wait here?” Dave asked as he put the pistol he’d rested on the dashboard back into his waistband and reached in the back for the burlap sack of heads.
I shrugged. “I guess I can start thinking about food while you make the drop.”
Now normally we didn’t split up, but David was armed and this was merely a swap job with Jimmy. In and out.
Still, I put my own 9mm in reach on the dash as David exited the vehicle. As he walked up to the shop door, the bag of heads swung at his side in rhythm to his step and dripped sludge behind him like a surreal telling of Hansel and Gretel (I guess that would make Jimmy the witch and would explain why he was dressing the part).
When Dave disappeared into the shop, I reached behind me and grabbed an old tin box we’d taken from a military
“You
really
want to argue with the ump?” he laughed. “That’s how you get thrown out of a game. Now, why don’t we clear the rest of the building?”
I shrugged as I folded my arms with what I admit was a bit of a childish pout. “What’s the point? There are no bionic zombies.”
“Did you really think there were?” Dave asked as he shot me a look from the corner of his eye.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Jimmy seemed so… so…
honest
about being afraid of whatever he saw here. There are a lot of ways you could describe that guy, but honest isn’t normally one of them. I guess it just caught my attention.”
“I still say he was drunk… or stoned,” Dave said with a shrug as he motioned me deeper into the church. “Actually, I’m going to ask him to pay us the second half of his debt with whatever he’s been smoking. Sounds fun.”
For the next twenty minutes we didn’t talk much as we cleared the rest of the big building. There wasn’t anything else to be found, though. As we returned to the van and reloaded our stuff, I shook my head.
“It’s never been that empty,” I mused as I stared up at the pristine building amidst collapsed and ruined hell.
Dave nodded. “Yeah. Normally we find a couple of lurkers and a half-dead pilgrim per trip.”
“It’s kind of creepy,” I whispered.
He patted my arm as we finished loading up. “Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe the pilgrims have finally gotten the message that it isn’t safe. If they stopped coming here, the zombies would have to find somewhere else to go for their buffet.”
I continued to stare at the building even as I climbed into the van for the return trip to Jimmy’s hideout. “
Maybe
. I mean, I hope so. But there’s something just so
off
about it.”
Dave turned in his seat to face me. “Come on, Sarah, you aren’t letting yourself get all caught up in Jimmy’s ghost… er,
zombie
story, are you?”
I shrugged. “Why can’t it be possible that there are different kinds of zombies? That maybe there
are
ones who are stronger?”
“Because the zombies were made by people and those people are all long gone. Those… those
creatures
are just lumps of empty flesh that can’t…
die
like they’re supposed to. They don’t evolve or think or feel, they just feed. You know that.” He turned the key and the engine roared to life. “Or at least you should after all this time.”
I frowned as I stared out the window in silence. Part of me knew that Dave was right. That I was just letting myself get worked up by a drunk with a vivid imagination.
But part of me still wondered, as we turned away from the church and crossed over the shambled tracks of what used to be the Metro, if what No-Toes said about bionics was possible.
And what would happen if it was.
Who moved my cheese? And my shotgun?
W hen we pulled back up to Jimmy’s barbershop a short while later, things were almost back to normal. Or… whatever the closest thing was in the zombieverse. I won’t say I was totally convinced that the bionics didn’t exist, but I was well on my way to putting them out of my mind.
“Want to wait here?” Dave asked as he put the pistol he’d rested on the dashboard back into his waistband and reached in the back for the burlap sack of heads.
I shrugged. “I guess I can start thinking about food while you make the drop.”
Now normally we didn’t split up, but David was armed and this was merely a swap job with Jimmy. In and out.
Still, I put my own 9mm in reach on the dash as David exited the vehicle. As he walked up to the shop door, the bag of heads swung at his side in rhythm to his step and dripped sludge behind him like a surreal telling of Hansel and Gretel (I guess that would make Jimmy the witch and would explain why he was dressing the part).
When Dave disappeared into the shop, I reached behind me and grabbed an old tin box we’d taken from a military