Look At His Pain - A Zombie Attack

“The skulls, not the skull, th-th-they are eating him!”

             “What George, no way!” John said, “They must be mutating… We must find a lab!”

             “I do not know about you, but any type of shelter would be perfect right now,” Richard said.

             “Oh God, they are sharing him; engulfing him,” George sobbed. “Those maggot lovers are drinking his blood!” 

           The revolting sea was indeed devouring him; his screams for assistance drowned by the disturbing sound of his meat being torn apart. They tore him limb from limb until his divine grey was unveiled for the mass. They were fighting each other off for a chance at one piece of his delicious meat. His last chance of survival snuffed out by a single bad decision. What was the world coming to?

            “George, you are right! We must find shelter… Give me time to go through my journals,” John muttered. “The answer must be there, it has to be.”

              “Come on guys, over there,” Richard said, “the cemetery gates are open, maybe we can find a crypt to barricade ourselves into. Maybe the smell of death will keep them away.”
               “Yes… Yes… The cemetery is a great idea Richard,” John said, “our redemption can begin with the Lord!”

               “George... Come quickly before they see you, Paul’s death will allow our escape,” cried Richard.

               “Look, that tomb, the door, that could be perfect!” John said moving through the gates, “there I can hopefully determine where my formula went wrong.”

               “Enough already John; we are in no position to attempt any type of experiment. Maybe once this hoard passes, we can return to our lab by the river,” Richard scoffed. “Maybe we can return to where this plague began.”

               “George, over here!” shouted John as he entered the vault.

               “I’m here, close the door!” George screamed as he took the final steps into the ossuary.

                Richard looked at their situation, “we should be safe here; maybe we will survive this terror.”

          “Maybe,” John replied, “if we are lucky.”

            Incredibly, it appeared as though the tomb may save them, as the undead mob went by instead of searching the cemetery for dinner. What as it that kept them away, was it the overwhelming scent of decay? The scientists sat staring at their temporary sanctuary, thankful to be alive.  They were thankful that they did not become like Paul.