Reign of the Dead
By
Dylan Bailey
Chapter One
What does it mean to be dead? Some call it the eternal sleep, others just call it dead. But what about the undead? Are they alive, or dead? Are they either? That is the question many have asked themselves. It is unknown if they possess the abilities they had in life. But it is known that they crave human flesh with horrifying persistence, and they will stop at nothing to get to it. People call them zombies. And it was at this precise moment that I typed this sentence when these zombies killed and ate Anne Brewer Lyndon at her home. In fact, almost six million people have been killed by these zombies in approximately 400 million towns and cities globally. This sudden…infestation…has become known as the Reign of the Dead, aka, the Zombie Apocalypse.
12:43 Hours
Hinesville, Connecticut
Deirdre sat on the sofa, lazily flipping through the channels on his TV. He was dead bored, and couldn't find a thing to watch. Deirdre was a black male, 17 years old, and a high school dropout. He had three sisters, each younger than him. They were Yvonne, Keisha, and Helen. His mother's name was Georgina. His father Grant. Hinesville was a small town. Insignificant, you might say, in the grand scheme of things. Deirdre let out a bored sigh and sat there. There was nothing to do! A cartoon called Mooville came on. Deirdre sighed. The theme ended and was suddenly interrupted by a news cast. The anchor was a bald man in a pinstripe suit. He was disheveled and it was obvious he was on a coffee binge. The man's clothing was wrinkled and his tie loose around his neck. His eyes were bloodshot.
"Th-there have been reports of mass murders happening throughout the Hinesville area. Mass hysteria is the reign of the moment. Law has no control whatsoever anywhere. The murders are obviously the work of assassins, though we have no idea why. The bodies discovered have been partially eaten, the flesh having violently been ripped off of the body. No other information is available at this time about the killings."
Deirdre stared at his television in shock. Murders? He didn't know of any murders. The man on the screen looked away for a moment before facing him again.
"This just in: there numerous reports of the deceased rising up again and killing everyone in their path. You heard me right, folks. The dead are rising. This catastrophe is happening everywhere. All over the globe, dead are getting up and killing people. They are devouring the living. The dead are—NO! NO! NO!"
As Deirdre watched, a blood covered person with matted hair jumped on the anchorman and attacked him. The reporter screamed in agony as his flesh was rent off him. Blood sprayed everywhere and splashed onto the camera. The creature (what else could it be called?) gave a guttural growl and slashed the screaming man's stomach as he tried to escape. The man's intestines spilled out of him and he screamed even louder. The zombie grabbed his small intestine and stretched the meat taut, then chewed it. The anchorman gave a high pitched scream of agony-terror and fell back dead. The zombie growled and chewed, growled and chewed.
The camera swiveled unsteadily to view all-out carnage. Zombies broke in and attacked anything that moved or breathed. A woman had her gut emptied as three of them attacked. A man was thrown and had his arm torn off, his blood spattering the wall and ceiling as he flailed. Yet another woman had her shirt and jeans ripped off as five zombies ate her flesh. Her screaming was quickly silenced. Her entrails flew about along with her left leg. The man controlling the camera screamed as his intestines and blood flew onto the ground with the camera. Then it went static.
Deirdre sat there, shocked into complete silence. He did not know what to say. What were those things? What was happening? He finally got up and went to the window. He hesitated to open the curtain. He did. He immediately wished he hadn't. Houses were on fire, cars were wrecked, and people ran about, screaming like cavemen. An army of the undead was attacking the living. As he watched, a child was torn apart by her mother. Her blood painted the street crimson. The mother dined on her entrails. Deirdre finally got sick and vomited on the floor. When he got back up, a zombie was at his window. The creature let out an animalistic sound at clawed at his window. The blood smeared the glass. Deirdre gasped and backed away. The creature used its head and beat on the glass. It shattered and he jumped inside.