Manuscripts Burn


"Manuscripts don't burn"
- Mikhail Bulgakov

Hi, I'm horror and science fiction author Steve Kozeniewski (pronounced: "causin' ooze key.") Welcome to my blog! You can also find me on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and Amazon. You can e-mail me here, join my mailing list here, or request an e-autograph here. Free on this site you can listen to me recite one of my own short works, "The Thing Under the Bed."

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

A Fistful of Zombies 14

Denver, realizing that Taylor is paralyzed, holds down Zombie Bob with some difficulty with his foot and pulls Taylor’s bowie knife out of the man’s sheath. He slices off Zombie Bob’s head. That doesn’t stop Zombie Bob from writhing, so he thrusts the bowie knife through Zombie Bob’s torso and pins him to the ground. He jumps up and grabs Taylor and pulls him into the street. They see Miguel and Bernardo running towards them.

Hey, gringo, truce, ok?

Sounds good to me. Where are we going?

To church, man, to church!

The four former enemies haul ass down the street and disappear. Meanwhile, Zombie Bob manages to pull himself out of the dirt, but the bowie knife is still a big part of his anatomy. He grabs his head and staggers down the street where he meets the other three zombies. The four of them stagger into the saloon and walk up to the bar. The saloon is pretty well full, and the bartender is wiping down the counter. The bartender seems not to notice that they are zombies and that Zombie Bob is carrying his head.

Well, good evening, gentlemen, what can I do for you?

The zombies growl. The bartender suddenly starts to get scared.

How about some beers?

The bartender puts four beers down on the counter. The zombies all take them and begin drinking, including Zombie Bob who must pour the beer into his mouth. The zombies begin wandering around the saloon, killing people and drinking their beers. As the people die, they too become zombies. After a little while, the bartender whistles sharply.

Last call. I don’t care where you go, but you can’t sleep here.

Groaning and mumbling angrily, the barful of zombies staggers out into the street and begins terrorizing the populace. The bartender bolts the door.

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