This short story first appeared in my collection Moments of Darkness. It was inspired by a mis-interpreted phrase from the song Twin Dummy from the band Voivod.
Zombie says: “Get me more.”
Damn Zombie. I hate that thing. It never shuts up. It’s always asking for more. It’s loud. It’s demanding.
Zombie says: “Hurry, get it now.”
Stupid Zombie. It doesn’t know me. It thinks it does, but it can’t possibly understand who I am or what I want. It’s too consumed with a gnawing desire for more. Always more.
Zombie says: “If you don’t get more I’ll take it from you.”
Zombie is always threatening me. It’s always promising some kind of action. It tries to bully me to act on its behalf. I’m not afraid.
Zombie says: “Be a good little girl and do as I say. Behave and nothing will happen to you.”
Zombie caught me-once. I tried to trick it. I thought I’d had it fooled but it was smarter than I gave it credit for. Zombie bit me. It took my little finger. I don’t care. I’m still alive. Zombie isn’t.
Zombie says: “I’m tired of games. I want more than this.”
Zombie can’t leave the house. Zombie gets wild when someone knocks on the door. Zombie thrashes and shambles around the house when someone unexpectedly shows up. I try to calm it, but it senses the blood.
Zombie says: “Well done my child. One day you’ll have what I have.”
Zombie thinks I’m its daughter. Its daughter left a long time ago. Or was eaten. Either way, its daughter isn’t around anymore. It was just my dumb luck to stumble on this place. Ever since, Zombie has kept me. Like a prisoner.
Zombie says: “My dear, please keep me company. Don’t leave. Stay and read to me.”
As if I could leave. Zombie has me trapped. There aren’t any exits but the front door. All the rest were blocked off. Zombie was afraid of an attack. I don’t know why. The large herds were far off to the north near Chicago. There’s more meat there. But somehow, Zombie ran across a small group. They turned a once strong man into a new Zombie. Every day I have to read to it. Reading soothes its urge to attack me. It helps me survive long enough. And keeps my mind sane.
Zombie says: “I need more now, please get me more.”
Zombie disgusts me. It eats flesh and muscle and brains with a ghastly bite. It rummages inside the body for tender organs, devouring them like a dog. Moans of pleasure mixed with slurping and sucking sounds as it eats. It’s enough to make me vomit, which I did once. Zombie threatened me then. I haven’t vomited since. At least not where Zombie could hear me.
Zombie says: “You will never leave. I need you. I can protect you.”
I’m going to kill Zombie. I can’t stay any longer. The news reports keep telling us to flee, a large herd is heading towards us and the authorities are helpless to stop it. I need to leave. Staying means death…or worse. I don’t want either. Zombie won’t let me go.
Zombie says: “The reports are false. There are no others. There’s only me. Don’t worry.”
Zombie doesn’t know what I’ve planned. Zombie got rid of all the knives long ago. Zombie doesn’t know I’ve created a knife from part of the bed. I’m ready now. I have to flee. I won’t get caught in the horde. I slash at Zombie. It screams. I stab it in the head, its bones weakened from decay. It gurgles and tries to speak. I raise my shiv and stab again and again. Zombie slumps to the floor.
Zombie says nothing anymore.
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