Author's note: Due to popular demand, the short story from my "Thirty Minutes" series featuring Marko and zombies has branched off into its own story! I honestly can't say how long this will be, but it was a lot of fun writing out the very chapter. It's been a very long time since Marko spoke to me as a muse, so I was beyond thrilled when fellow readers wanted to read more. Please let me know what you think about this and once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed the original story, because without you guys, this story wouldn't have been possible!

Disclaimer: The Lost Boys is copyright (c) Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. and all others associated with legal rights.

"Marko Versus the Living Dead"

The last faint rays of sun shone upon the sign in front of the iron gates.

SANTA CARLA MEMORIAL.

Sensing that dusk made its claim over the skies, Marko opened his eyes. Hours ago, the vampire sought shelter from the day inside one of the many crypts. Despite the fact that the zombies took over the city for themselves, the cemetery was, so far, spared of any chaos. There was nothing but a sea of stonework and marble with their permanent residents undisturbed by the apocalypse.

As Marko climbed out of the old coffin he "borrowed" from its owner, who was nothing but a pile of old clothing and dusty bones on the floor, he debated on whether or not to risk finding a healthy, unaffected human to feed off of, or go to the Emerson household to see if there were any traces of David, Dwayne, and Paul.

Still can't sense anything from the others. I'm probably still weak from the lack of any real blood intake. Hard as hell to sniff out any human with this… whatever it is, that's making everything so fucked.

The air was thick with death. Under normal circumstances, Marko wouldn't mind it, seeing as how he was a creature of the night, but the aroma was extremely overwhelming and distracting. Going by what he saw when he first rode into town last night, it was no wonder the air was a potential choking hazard.

THEN

Zombies, of all colors, shapes, sizes, ages, and in various stages of rot, were roaming the streets of the murder capital. It was a horror movie come to life. They shuffled, they dragged their rotting limbs, they moaned, screeched—all because something happened to bring the dead back to life.

Structures that weren't burned down were boarded up, while some had windows and doors busted, presumably from the horde wanting to eat the humans inside. Cars were lined up in the streets, abandoned, and a couple of them even had zombies trapped inside. The electricity was out, blanketing the city in darkness. There were signs of law enforcement having been present at one point, but just like the rest of Santa Carla, their efforts were in vain. Some of the zombies walking about were former cops and military soldiers. No matter what position they once held, in the end, they were all mindless freaks who hungered for flesh.

There was an abundance of dead bodies on the beach next to the boardwalk, many of them with numerous bite marks, all of them fatal. Some bodies showed self-inflicted gunshot wounds or other kinds of injuries that brought upon death. Marko recognized a number of faces: employees of the boardwalk, Surf Nazis… Now, they were just useless cadavers with gnarly looking abrasions that would put Hollywood special effects to shame.

Marko knelt down before a body where half of the skull was blown off, leaving a gory mess on the sand. He used his pinky to wipe up some blood before bringing it to his nose. He sniffed the contents and instantly regretted it, as it burned his nostrils. He jerked his head away and wiped the blood on the side of his chaps.

Shit, that is some foul smelling blood.

Dead man's blood was considered poisonous to vampires, but it was deceptive in that it could pass as fresh blood right before consumption. However, this was not the case. Whatever was in the air must have affected some of these humans right down to the blood stream. Marko was not willing to see what would happen if he drank this blood.

The Lost Boy eventually made his way to the stairs that led to the boardwalk itself. Destruction and vandalism was visible all around him, and there was no sign of life. He tried knocking on the shutters of some of the small shops, but was greeted with silence.

"Where the fuck is everybody?!" Marko demanded with absolute frustration as he stood in front of the building that housed the old Looff Carousel. The ride was obviously not being used, but even in the dimness, Marko could see dark stains on some of the horses.

That was when the first wave of zombies emerged, drawn to the sound of his yelling and earlier knocking. They poured through the main entrance of the park, and from the alleys. Their ghastly wails were loud enough to rival the crashing waves of the ocean.

Marko knew he was going to be surrounded in no time, but he made the conscious decision to not use his speed to get away or even take flight. Instead, he stood there and patiently waited, just wanting to confirm what he heavily suspected. It came from watching many horror movies involving zombies.

Sure, he might move and sound like a human being, therefore the zombies assumed he was food. Once the first group was close enough to reach out and touch Marko, their instincts kicked in and they knew that he was not what they wanted. He was not food. He reeked of death just like them. Zombies had no use for other members of the undead. What they wanted was flesh from the living. What Marko craved was blood from the living.

These zombies were his competition for food. They were taking away what belonged to HIM.

Enraged by this very fact, Marko went on the attack. With his eyes aglow and his vampire features in full view, he lashed out at the nearest zombie with his claws. Its jaw was ripped from its lower face and it staggered back from the brute force. Marko then spun around and attacked another zombie. His fist sank into its cheek, its flesh cold and soggy. No matter where he turned, he was able to strike. Again, and again, and again. One would fall, and another would take its place. Marko didn't care. He just wanted to keep going, to keep attacking. He wanted to let out all of the confusion and frustration that built up in such a short amount of time.

How did this happen? WHY did this happen? How can these humans screw up this badly?!

The walking corpses all around him didn't seem affected by the fight or the loss of their numbers. They merely bustled about in their eternal search for food. This infuriated Marko even more. He loved seeing his victims in agony, watching the fear in their eyes right before he would take their lives. These zombies expressed no such emotions as they were ripped apart with ease.

A pile of prone bodies surrounded Marko's feet, and he would have kept going with his butchery, if he didn't noticed the skies gradually turning light.

Fuck! Wasted my time with these assholes when I should've been…!

He didn't finish his thought, as he needed to seek shelter. Going back to the cave wasn't an option. He needed to find his brothers, and they wouldn't be waiting at home.

Marko shoved past the zombies that were in his way as he hurried to where he parked his bike, just outside of the main entrance. It didn't surprise him that the thunderous growl of his engine stirred the infestation, causing them to move toward the noise. He momentarily thought about ditching his bike and taking to the air, but ultimately decided to just outrun the dead heads. In this new and uncertain world, he didn't want to lose his wheels to zombies or humans.

IF I ever see any live humans around here, he thought grimly as he sped down the street, leaving the boardwalk behind. A group of zombies tried to follow him but in no time he was out of their sight.

Now, where the hell was he going to sleep? He couldn't risk trying to enter any of the stores or homes in town. He wasn't sure what he would find within, and frightened humans could come crashing in his chosen "safe haven," no matter how heavily barricaded he would make it, and potentially leave him vulnerable to the daylight.

Like hell I'm gonna let another mort get the jump on me, Marko thought bitterly as he vividly remembered that little rat bastard, Edgar Frog, and how he staked him during his sleep. Did he and his brother survive this hell on earth? Or were they zombies moseying about Santa Carla in search of flesh? Marko would love to get his hands on those two, alive or undead, and make them suffer just like he did and then some.

Oncoming daylight was fast approaching, and that was when Marko found himself coming up to Santa Carla Memorial. It was a vast cemetery that had been around since the 1860s. There were a handful of times the Lost Boys ventured over here because on the rare occasion, humans would sneak inside to perform weird, nonsensical acts they foolishly believed was to be arts of the occult. They were such easy pickings.

The main gates were locked and the chapel didn't appear to be touched by man or zombie. It was as if this place was forgotten by everyone.

Beggars can't be choosers!

NOW

Marko sat on the crypt roof, still wondering what to do. He was famished for blood, but ever since he emerged from the cave two nights ago, he hadn't seen a single living human. It was looking as if he would have to hunt animals to get any kind of proper sustenance. He could still taste the nasty tang of the rat's blood he drank before gaining the strength to leave the elevator shaft. Compared to the dead human's blood he sniffed at the beach earlier, the rat's blood was palatable.

He thought of the old hotel, remembering how he hadn't seen any of his pigeons. They could have left when shit first went south. Animals were always the first to know about these things.

With a frustrated growl, Marko stood up and gradually floated off the roof. He lifted himself just high enough to where he could see the landscape all around him. Santa Carla was consumed in near darkness, save for a couple light spots in different areas of downtown. They were most likely the hospital and police station with their own power generators. He wondered if there were humans fortified within those places, ones that weren't affected by whatever the hell caused this mess. The mountains and the woods were pitch black. The pillars of smoke Marko saw on the first night were gone, adding a hint of ash to the already toxic atmosphere. He couldn't help but wonder how many other cities were affected by this. Did the whole country, or even the whole world, have to deal with this, too?

Marko turned to face the direction of The Pogonip, the rural lands where Michael Emerson's family lived. The last coherent thoughts the vampire recalled before being left behind was centered on that house. David, Paul, and Dwayne must have gone there to get revenge. That area was just as dark as much of the world around him was, but that was the only real direction he had to go with.

Give me some kind of sign that you guys are there, Marko thought as he glanced over at where he hid his bike. Despite finding the cemetery to be a nice break from the zombie mess on the outside, he decided to keep his wheels out of sight. For now, it was time to go to Michael's house and hopefully reunite with the other Lost Boys.

These jackass zombies aren't going to take everything away from us!