Zombie Dash Read online

cruise ahead.

  Plus, we were going right by the carnage, and I felt safer with her in front of me. There are ways to survive the zombie apocalypse, and one is to make sure it is others who get eaten.

  The zombies had as many different body shapes and strides as us runners and watching them made me forget I was running a race and just enjoy the experience. Sweat dripped from my pores like blood from the creatures faces, and my lungs became scolded breathing in the cool, moist autumn air.

  My ears perk up when I hear a clown zombie laughed hysterically, not following the runners but just scanning the crowd. Others growled, not really caring about flags just reveling in their own power to make runners dash this way and that. A zombie in a bloody wedding gown lunged for me. I laughed and shrieked and even gave a fake scream as I flew on by. She didn’t give chase but was just giggling all over, just like me. This was too much fun. Secretly, I have always hoped I could live in a zombie world, and thought how cool it would be if the movies ever came true.

  Stiff legged zombies walked with hands in the air showcasing their red flags as their kill. A zombie with a Bill Clinton mask and an ax in his head gave the piece sign, a doctor zombie with a bloody white coat carried a fake scalpel (better have been fake, and plus, zombies don’t use weapons). All of them were right in my face but I kept on, 3 miles in and fully still alive.

  The skinny trail through the woods meant it was hard to avoid the undead, and it was, indeed, a Monster Mash with yells, grunts, and hysterical screams in the air. Sounds of death shrieked in both terror and ecstasy, all of us having more fun than we thought possible. The fast running pace, like a few drinks at cocktail hour, lifted inhibitions, and we were all free to act out every zombie movie ever made. Shaun Of The Dead, Zombieland, maybe even The Evil Dead; this was full of laughs.

  Becca was running right in front of me and at a faster pace. Truth was, I didn’t mind running behind her, and always admired her confidence, her steady gait, and the feeling that she would keep me safe like the big sister I’d never had.

  When Brad asks me to marry him, which I suspect will be someday soon, it is Becca who is going to be my bridesmaid.

  From the shadows of runner’s headlamps, I spot a teen zombie kid dash sideways, cut a person off, and reach his a hand inches before Becca’s flag.

  “Watch out, watch out!”

  I try to cut off the teenage zombie boy, and offer myself up as bait, but this artsy-fartsy looking zombie dude with thick glasses had zeroed in on Becca, and his hand flashed across her rear. She turned just as her red flag was in his hand and he gave out a triumphant growl.

  She’d been bitten, but then I saw her laughing, and I was laughing. I imagined myself faced with that inevitable moment of all zombie movies. I would have to watch my loved one die and then put her down with a shot gun blast to the face as soon as she came back as a zombie.

  With one flag gone, shadows emerging become more menacing. The headlamps on runners bobbled up and down and danced in and out of the legs running forward. Faces and eyes were illuminated and the lights hit the trees like a helicopter searchlight.

  Then I saw the clown zombie again, shooting out from the left side of the trail. I noticed his red plastic nose, his face full of white makeup, and his bald skullcap with side strands of hair shooting out grey and straggly. A bloody bullet wound was in his chest signifying his cause of death. He reminded me of a leaner Captain Spaulding from House of 1,000 Corpses.

  He had zeroed in on Becca and I was right behind ready to watch her second flag get nabbed.

  Instead I pick up the pace, much faster than I’d be able to hold for long. Muscles in my calves and thighs strain, lungs are scolded, and I sprint ahead to be by her side to block his path.

  “Get over, get over,” I yelled and pointed to the right, but she was running too fast for me to keep up.

  The Captain Spaulding zombie passed three slower victims and his eyes were focused. His glare was clearly directed right towards Becca.

  If I had a gun, I could approach him from the side and aim right into his ear and pull the trigger. This was not to be.

  I jumped up ahead again, fully anaerobic now, and leaned into her shoulder, urging her over.

  “Here we go again, get moving,” I said, loving this run like none other. But then I feel a shoulder barrel into me, my legs get twisted, and I realize I was being tackled. Both Becca and I fall sprawling to the ground.

  Groans and grunts came from all of us as limbs twisted to the ground. A huge haze of confusion followed with knees and legs smashed together and the three of us got tangled. I got to my feet with some f-bombs hanging on my tongue at this zombie who decided to take things way too seriously, but heard Becca scream before I could say a word.

  “What the hell. Stop it! Stop it!”

  Clown zombie had Becca by the leg. She was kicking furiously and twisting on the ground, but the beast of a zombie was oblivious and kept dragging her.

  I lunged to grab the man’s arm and he swung at me with his free hand in a huge arc, like a pendulum. I felt a slice, like a harsh, quick paper cut across my shoulders. My whole system was given an electric shock.

  Cut, I was cut. I looked down and saw a line of red sliced down my shoulder. This man was large, dangerous, he had Becca in the forest, and he was armed with something.

  “I’m hurt, somebody help. Please, stop and help.”

  I tried to cut people off. I blocked their way, messed with their strides, but runners slower than I but just as determined simply gave me a smile and darted around me.

  I begged “please” to a 50 year old man who cruised right by, and right behind him a foursome of woman all from a walking club decided to bust into a quick run just to avoid me.

  A slow walking zombie was my only hope, so I got right in his face.

  “Listen to me, this is for real, my friend’s getting assaulted…”

  I saw his head cock, his eyes look confused, he reached for my flag so I backed away still pleading.

  “This isn’t the game, come on, she’s right here. Help me, would you?”

  I needed to do something. I darted into the trees after them. My intermittent screams of Help were lost in the crowd of fake horror and laughs. The cut wasn’t deep but was a long slice and blood was starting to trickle on my shoulder. I felt it seeping as my adrenaline rushed me into the woods and I threw myself at the Zombie clown.

  At impact he moved, but not much, his body was solid. But it was enough that he was off Becca whose screams were fading like a baby too exhausted to cry. The clown remained on his feet and showed no signs of being scared by the screams and fleeing. I was standing by his side, breathless. Becca stood up, and I saw him flash his weapon.

  The shadow of a blade protruded from his hand, and his feet swooshed through the leaves walking towards me. The blade flashed, I saw the tip in slow motion, and I got ready to feel the metal stab into my chest, when Becca scurried through the leaves and slammed into the man.

  Becca was on top of the beast and they flayed in the leaves like kids playing in the fall. I heard a “thump,” and see the knife handle is stuck her in back. Gags come from her place on the ground in the dark.

  “No. No!” I screamed. Something had to happen. Someone had to help.

  He flung her body up, it knocked into a tree, and feel down like dead weight.

  Dead, she’s dead. Dead. It screamed in my head. I rushed to her side, felt the clown-zombie shadowing over me. I had to leave but had to help her. Screams shot from my mouth out into the dark but nobody from the course was coming. I was alone in the trees, and I grabbed the knife which was stuck in her still warm body. The handle felt thick in my hands, and I needed to yank the knife out of her body as if I had been carving a pumpkin. Blood was oozing out of her, but her heart was still beating, so at least she was alive but the end was near.

  Where was he? Voices came from somewhere, like a woman muttering and a man muttering something back. Then they stopped,
silenced. I needed to move. Could Becca be saved? Distant runners were still enjoying the course oblivious but I was stuck here. My legs shook and I could see tiny clouds of moisture from my rapid breath. It all felt cold again, colder than even at the start. Icy and frozen.

  The ice was shattered by an arm around my neck and hearing the sounds of my gags. The arm gave a squeeze and I felt my wind pipe start to crunch. The force was quick and solid and crushing me. I tried to elbow him but hit nothing so I kicked back with a leg, heard a single grunt, but my neck remained clenched in his arms.

  This is what it feels like to be choked to death, I thought. With my two hands on the knife handle I reached out in front of me and jerked in with all my might, a near hari-kari into my own stomach except just to its side, and I plunged the knife right into the gut of the clown behind me.

  The vise on my neck instantly loosened but my head remained locked, wrapped in his elbow. I dug the knife deeper into his meaty gut and jerked it sideways, just a bit, cutting off a bit more of his insides and then felt him let go entirely.

  I gasped for air through a damaged larynx and heard him fall to the ground. I wanted to scream but had no air left in me, and it felt like my heart was pounding enough to alert help from somewhere. I’m done, I’m through, I needed something.

  Then I hear the rustle of leaves. Moving quickly I see a volunteer zombie. Finally help, finally help, I think,