Zombie Dash Read online



  THE ZOMBIE DASH

  A short story by

  Mark Matthews

  Copyright 2012

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews. Your respect of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Also by Mark Matthews:

  Also by the author:

  On the Lips of Children

  Nominated for 2013’s Best Horror Novel by a Small Press by What Horror Looks Like.

  “One of the scariest novels I have read this year.” ~Alicia Banks, The Horror News Network

  "A dark, terrifying page-turner. It's Stephen King's Misery on bath salts. In a cave. It scared the crap out of me."  -Michele Miller, author of The 13th Step: Zombie Recovery

  "A brutal, intense ride of claustrophobic horror and gritty, page-turning suspense. This is dark fiction at its visceral, chilling best." ~ Jan Kozlowski, author of Die, You Bastard! Die!

  STRAY

  “Wildly empathetic to all the beasties who take shelter in communal spaces. Stray sings.” ~Sacha Z. Scoblic, author of “Unwasted: My Lush Sobriety”

  “Completely engaged from the moment I picked up the book till the end.” ~The Kindle Book Review

  The Jade Rabbit

  “A must read I am fortunate to have found” ~Peter Rosche, author of “My Dead Friend Sarah.

  "I have really, really enjoyed reading this story and highly recommend it. VERY entertaining!” ~Janae Jacobs, "The Hungry Runner Girl"

  Chasing the Dragon: Running to Get High

  "This book is everything I want in a book about running... Mark Matthews is one of the best runner/writers working today."  -Jennifer Graham, author of "Honey, Do You Need a Ride? Confessions of a Fat Runner."

  "Exuberant, passionate, and full of runnerly love." -Caleb Daniloff, author of "Running Ransom Road: Confronting the Past, One Marathon at a Time"

  ZOMBIE DASH

  My legs are chilly. I can feel tiny little hairs standing on edge, tiny little stubbles really, since I hadn’t shaved in a few days, but who wears shorts on Halloween.

  Only when it’s 50 degrees and I’m about to run a 10k. The Zombie Dash 10k.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to hit them. Behead them really. What if I do? What if I grab something like a shovel and swing at their heads? I have seen it happen so many times.”

  “Just run away from them. Blast past them. Or go ahead, take a swing. I’ll be right behind you. Directly behind you.”

  “Romero Zombies I can outrun. No problem, just smash them in the face with a crowbar. Not 28 Days Zombies. They’re fast. Super fast. Danny Boyle Zombies sprint.”

  Becca still doesn’t get the difference, but she hadn’t seen all the zombie movies I had. She was too busy strengthening her core, doing Pilates DVD's, buying organic free range everything, or just planking away. I watched as she stretched her long legs, shook them out, and got herself prepped. She’d already done a few warm-up striders, and was sure to survive the zombie apocalypse with her speed. She’s always been more the racer, me, just a pretty good but not great runner. But we got along perfect.

  We were in the starting chute of the Zombie Dash 10k, a 6.2 mile trail run through a forest infested with volunteer zombies, all who would be unleashed to try and bite runners like us. Real bites would not be happening, but instead the zombies would try to grab one of three red ‘flags’ attached to our belts. With each flag lost, runners get an extra minute added to their time, but I was of the firm belief that with any flags lost, just one bite, I had a ‘DNS’ – Did Not Survive.

  The grey clouds were now covered by the dark sky, and many runners were wearing headlamps on their foreheads that would shine on the trail in front of them. The last bit of daylight had faded while we listened to songs like Michael Jackson’s Thriller, The Werewolves of London, and my favorite, “The Monster Mash” which was currently playing on the loudspeaker as we waited the starting gun. Like most of the runners, I jumped up and down in place to shed off the cold, but soon it would be forgotten as we took off in a sprint.

  “Leslie will be gunning for us, you know that right?”

  “I know, how fun, I hope she tries.”

  Leslie had begged them to run the event after she had volunteered to be a zombie. She had been perfecting her makeup and costume for weeks and it was going to be a surprise.

  “And, did you hear? She had lunch with Dr. Borgstrom again. Can you believe it? She’s back on the account it seems.”

  “Lunch, then dinner, and then breakfast,” I said, and couldn’t believe it came out of my mouth.

  Neither of us had ever directly accused Leslie of having sex with the doctor, but we had finally spoken to our regional manager about their relationship. As pharmacy reps, Leslie was outselling both of us combined. She’d won free trips, a cruise, all since she was assigned to the biggest script writing doctor of the area; Dr. Borgstorm. A dream come true for pharmaceutical reps. But when we saw how they acted together, and that Leslie wore the same clothes to work two days in a row after a meeting with the good doctor, we knew something was up. Our regional manager said she’d deal with it, but nothing ever happened.

  I had seen the doctor at a conference just a week ago and shook his strong hand while his eyes seemed to examine my insides. He had an impenetrable presence, an iron jaw, an iron body, and looked 20 years younger than his 52. As the owner of a chain of cosmetic surgery spas, he lived off of Botox and steroid cocktails, and was thrilled with their new drug, Juvenis-1, that worked to regenerate dead skin cells.

  “David’s waiting for me at the end, but I bet you’ll see him first. And then I want drinks. Lots of drinks tonight. He’s driving and I’m drinking and you’re buying.”

  “All good. Beers and shots and sweaty tops. Just don’t kill anybody while we run, have fun, and keep your flags on you.”

  Yes, I wasn’t the fastest, but I was just a tiny step behind. Surely I wouldn’t come in last but would stay in the middle of the pack where it’s safest. Every zombie movie I saw I always knew I would be like one of the survivors at the end and keep my human flesh intact. If I couldn’t survive this run, then everything I knew about myself would be proven wrong.

  I looked around at the others who would be eaten in my place. Runners with so many different body types surrounded me. Imagine if someone really wanted to feed off their flesh right about now? It almost made me drool. Sports bras left flesh exposed easily within reach like an appetizer tray. Runners’ legs had calf muscles shaped like chicken drumsticks. The massive crowd huddled together was just one big buffet.

  Gun Shot

  And they were off, sprinting first downhill through a grassy field for 50 yards until a trail maybe five yards wide sliced between a thick forest. A strobe light marked the beginning of the trail and shadows of everyone danced across the grass like it was a dance floor.

  On the left I saw my first zombie and I loved her right away. It was a baby zombie, not a real baby, but a smaller woman, wearing a zipped up full-body pink pajama sleeper. A bloody Binky was in her mouth. She stood motionless with head-cocked on the left of the trail, and in the flashing light I could see her make up done with brilliance. An innocent child now waiting to rip us up and eat us alive, and I wondered if I were her mother would I rush over to embrace her. Even knowing everything about what she had turned into, I still thing that that I would. I couldn’t resist, and it would be worth being bitten.
/>   With baby zombie looming on the left, the lead runners veered to the right and seemed completely safe and unstoppable. Their flags were certain to be safely in their belts at the finish, until….

  Bamn!  Blah, Screams.

  A hoard of zombies jumped from the right side of the trees opposite the baby, the lead runner jumped back and lost his footing and fell to the ground, two zombies grabbed his flags, and he’s surrounded and engulfed. I watched as the rest of the runners who were in the lead and thought they’d easily get by are victimized and outnumbered by the zombie hoard.

  Zombie strategy. How wonderful. The sprinters at the start have been nailed, and they’re now a minute or more behind us. Zombies are the great equalizer.

  “Wonder if Leslie is in that pack?”

  “She’s probably eating the doctor about now.”

  I had to laugh. She was his humble servant, that was clear, and she was sickenly smitten. The doctor was known as using some of the samples on himself, mixing and matching in odd combinations, and adding who knows what other substances. She’s seen Leslie leave with dufflebags of samples and syringes before.

  “Run your own race, remember,” I say between breaths to Becca, “don’t slow down for me.”

  “I Know, I know,” she answers, but she still stays by my side. She’s always been faster than me, so I purposely get behind her, thinking it might give her permission to