Humanity's Death: A Zombie Epic by D.S. Black

blood,
dead eyes and dead men, bullets zipping, Satan’s fury winning while
God cried the loser's fiddlers tune. The sandy death all around,
insane eyes staring out of a shell shocked skull, a brain trying,
ever so desperately, to process broken bodies, floating friends,
arms, legs, torsos. Time marched on and god's bell tolled to the
names of the dying young. A large wall of fuming hate fired
countless rounds down at him and his fellow soldiers, fading so
many lives into darkness. Nothing more for them, just a beach front
grave. The sounds of orders muted by the screams of agony. The
growing darkness of lost souls, lost hopes—just the silenced
madness of a nearby artillery shell exploding and there went his
best friend Taylor Snow, gone with the bloody breeze of war.
Death's machine incarcerating flesh, guts spewed out, the world's
ending—at least that's what that warring hell felt like for Louis
Teach. He'd survived to tell the tale, though he never spoke of it
to anyone. Some hurts run too deep to share, to articulate into
words. He'd always have those images, though, engraved deep in his
mind like a never ending dark nightmare that could surface and play
again just as though it were happening at that very moment.
    Then his mind woke up. His heart beat fast. He
saw the fear in the girl's eyes. A fear he'd seen before. The fear
of coming death. A rage inside him boiled up; and Louis Teach
turned his wheelchair around in a fast jerk and stared stared into
the Eye.
    4
    The girls now backed away, holding each other; their
tiny legs shook beneath them; their knees begging to buckle. Their
grandfather now stared into the Eye and he shouted over his
shoulder. “Get inside girls! RIGHT NOW!” They did as he said, but
did so slowly, walking backwards, never taking their eyes off the
scene unfolding in front of them. Their grandfather had both hands
on his wheels, ready to drive himself directly into the Eye.
    They heard him as they got half way to the
shack's door. “You aint gettin em! Yous a damn demon from hell! You
aint gettin em!”
    The ground shook under the girls feet as the Eye
cackled loudly. The tongue hanging out, slobbering at the foot of
Papa's feet. As the girls backed onto the small porch, the Eye
changed shape. It turned into a woman. They recognized her like
they recognized an old photograph. It was their great grandmother,
Emma Teach, Mema for all others.
    5
    Louis Teach
stared at his deceased wife's form. The same form from his dream,
so young, so beautiful. For a moment he wanted to believe it. He
wanted to reach out and hold her. Then he saw the red gleam in her
eye. “You foul bastard! You disgrace my baby! You
sonofa — “
    6
    The girls saw and heard their great grandfather
speak his final words. The Plateye transformed into a black dust
that looked like dark flies buzzing in an angry swirl; the black
cloud entered their grandfather's mouth; he convulsed rapidly and
fell out of the wheel chair.
    The twins retreated, screaming for help that
didn't exist, and slammed the shack door behind them. They ran into
the small living room and hid behind the couch. For a moment
everything went silent. They looked at each other; their matching
blue eyes filled with fright. Their breath came in short, scared
gasps; the room was as cold as a freezer.
    They both peaked above the tip of the couch and
stared at the front door. A dark mist began to seep underneath the
door. All the windows were darkened by black shadow. The shack
began to shake violently. The door swung open. They stared in
frozen horror. It wasn't the Eye crawling in through the door. It
was Papa. His face was white death. His eyes burned with dead man's
fury. He was a lifeless and hungry ghost of a man. He spoke, but
not with his voice. It was the whispering voice of the Eye. “Come
here my sweet treats. Time to taste my little cunts. I'm hungry.
Hungry as the hippo. I want your insides!”
    Tears poured from their eyes. They couldn't
move. The