Zombie Story

Well, online I have to say, clinic I got bored and seeing as I enjoy writing fiction, anesthetist I decided to work on the story about zombies in the Revolutionary War, as per a comment somebody made on one of the stories dealing with zombies, I forget which one. If I get good comments on how this is going, I will continue this story, and any constructive criticism is appreciated. And now, without further ado, the result of random boredom.

The sun never sets on the British Empire. That’s what Frank Smith thought to himself, serving his king, putting down rebels in Africa. He and his men were deep in the jungle, shooting the savages that refused to bow to the English. It was then that one of the savages managed to get close and took a bite out of Frank’s hand. He then pulled out a flintlock pistol and shot the disease-ridden bastard in the face, splattering his brains on the trees. The rest of the savages lay dead or dying in the ground.

“Sir, this letter came for you from command,” said the young messenger boy that just got in the camp by horse. Frank was bandaging his wound, after the field doctor decided to fill it with a number of strange powders that caused immeasurable pain. The sergeant took the pain without flinching, but he was put into a bad mood by it. He ripped the letter out of the boys hand and tore it open. It was orders to send him to the new land, America, to help guide the soldiers there in putting down the rebel colonists.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of here and prepare my luggage and my steed,” said the sergeant, hitting the timid young boy. The sergeant ignored the fact that he was angrier than usual, and just chalked it up to enduring the quack medic who initially wanted to amputate the hand that was bitten.

The ride across the ocean was horrible, several men had died from infections, and a few had been attacked by somebody, all of the ones that had been attacked had died, and all of them had bite marks on their bodies. By the time the ship made it ashore, not one man on board had a pulse, though they continued to walk. The ship didn’t stop in the water like a normal galleon would, but ran ashore and was heavily damaged by the rocks that made up the cape. Immediately the British soldiers that had set up camp near the pier the ship crashed into ran up to the wreckage to help any of the men aboard. The beings that clamored out of the wreckage were no longer human, their eyes, the ones that still had them, were bloodshot, the skin was rotted and falling off, revealing innards and muscle and bone. The medics, thinking that the men had been injured by the crash, rushed to aid the men clamoring out of the ship. The screams were heard all the way into the nearby towns as the zombies sunk their teeth into the flesh of the British and only seconds after the men had fallen, they rose again, wandering in the direction of the nearby colony of Williamsburg, smelling the fresh meat on the wind, groaning and moaning.

Follow

Subscribe to Comments for Skippy's List

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 20th, 2009 at 9:30 pm and is filed under Guest Story, Zombie Survival. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.