Welcome friends! This week is Christmas week and I'm gonna be a lazy bitch. Sorry. But it's Christmas week so that's just as good of an excuse as any is it not?
It was about 6 months ago that I wrote an epic Zombie Christmas story for the short story anthology entitled: The Undead That Saved Christmas. (I'm sure you've seen the banner at the top of my page). Well...it didn't make the cut. I can only assume it was too awesome (or too long). But that is alright because you know what? All my friends...right here, right now, this week, will get a chance to read it. In all its wonderful Zombie Christmas glory. So sit back, take it easy, and lets get in the spirit! Christmas is coming!!
Mr. Gable's Reality presents:
Zombie Santa Must Die!
PART ONE: THE ORIGINS OF ZOMBIE SANTA
December 25, 1773
The world is in turmoil. New diseases threaten to destroy all humanity. One man, Sir Arthur Methias, a medical scientist, has taken it upon himself to solve these problems. By mixing several top secret chemicals, known only to him, and concocting a spice mixture consisting of pine tree needles, mistletoe leaves, and reindeer hooves, he has created on this day what he refers to as his “Destiny Serum.”
“Chris! I need you,” Methias shouted to the adjoining living room. Methias had been in his study all morning carefully plotting his next move with the Destiny Serum. The thought of trying it on himself passed through his mind momentarily but he casually pushed it aside. He knew full well if there were unexpected side effects that only he, Sir Arthur Methias, could possibly fix it. And nobody else. “Chris, you fat oaf, get in here. I have something for you.”
Chris Kringle had been Arthur’s assistant since the beginning. He had endured the trials and tribulations that were Arthur’s constant verbal abuse. Fat, Repulsive, and Loggerhead were among the most common adjectives Arthur used to summon Chris. Sometimes all three at the same time. Chris was a stout man, mid 60’s, balding, with a long beard of white as if a giant snowy avalanche had plummeted off of his face. He waddled in and stopped at the foot of Arthur’s desk, “Yes sir, how can I help you?”
“Have a drink with me, will you?” Arthur slid the cool glass of foggy liquid to the edge of the desk. The sweat off the glass left the desk charred and scorn in its wake.
“What is it?” Chris inquired.
“Doesn’t matter, we drink to success. We drink to this!” Arthur’s arm ascended to eye level. He stared at the cool fogging liquid that occupied the space within the vial in his hand.
“Congratulations sir, we never thought we could do it,” Chris said leaning forward to grab the glass, “but we did it. All of humanity will benefit from your creation.” Chris opened his mouth (and his gullet), threw back the glass, and tossed the cool foggy liquid down, deep down into the bottomless chasm of his belly.
Immediately Chris froze. The glass slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor. Shards of glass spread in all directions at his feet. He could not move, he could not speak. He was but a statue.
Arthur put his glass on the table and stood up, looking and Chris. “How do you feel? Please describe what is happening to you.” Arthur pulled his notepad from his shirt pocket and quickly began jotting notes. He noted the pale color of his skin, the way his cheeks seemed to shimmer bright crimson, then he noticed…he was dead. Chris toppled backwards, body stiff as it ever was, and crashed to the floor like a tree in the forest. Had a lumberjack been in the vicinity, he surely would have shouted, “Timber!”
“Oh my,” Arthur exclaimed, “thank god that wasn’t me.” He shuffled over to Chris and then bent down on his hands and knees to get a closer look. He checked for a pulse. None. Within the few moments that Chris had ingested the mystery brew and collapsed to the floor his body temperature had fallen nearly thirty degrees. He was as cold as ice. Arthur bent forward and fished through his jacket pocket. What he found was a wallet and pocket watch. He looked at them with glee, “Well then Mr. Kringle. I don’t think you’ll be needing these now will you?” He cackled joyously at the wad of dollar bills within Chris’ wallet.
At that moment, Chris’ eyelids flung open displaying eyes that had faded to a deep burgundy. Chris rocked himself to a seated position while Arthur was still distracted by the wallet and then generously bit down on the tender area of Arthur’s neck. Arthur had just began to let out a scream but was cut short as Chris attacked a second time, this time biting down on his wind pipe. When Chris pulled away, instead of pulling out a chunk of bloody flesh, Chris pulled out Arthur’s entire air passage system. Trachea and all. Even a good portion of his lungs (still attached to his windpipe) had slipped pass the minor opening left by Chris. Arthur was no more.
Chris kneeled forward at Arthur’s lifeless body. He began to feed. With the first few bites taken, Chris bent upwards and let out a high frequency moan. Then the hunger took over and he continued to feast on Arthur’s motionless corpse under the light of the brilliantly bright full moon.
The Destiny Serum was meant to prolong life and kill infection. Instead, it killed everything and brought it back to life. The hunger of the reborn undead creature being an unfortunate side effect. BUT…fortunately for the world, and for the generations of children for centuries to come, there was a wizard that had taken up residence at the same building as Sir Arthur Methias and his assistant Chris Kringle. This wizard also happened to hear the hungry cry of Chris as he fed upon Arthur. The wizard rushed down to Arthur’s laboratory and discovered what had happened. He tried everything he could gather in order to kill the creature but every act proved unsuccessful. Physical attacks failed, magical attacks failed, pushing the creature from the roof failed, running him over with a reindeer driven sleigh failed. Then he had an idea. With the sleigh at hand he did the last thing he could possibly do. He cursed Chris Kringle. Chris would travel the world in this sleigh once a year distributing toys to all the good girls and boys. Chris was banished to the North Pole. It would be here that the resident elf community would help him build the toys. For the good girls and boys.
With this curse came a price. The curse would only last so long as the spirit of Christmas (giving, thankfulness, faith, hope, charity, and most importantly family) existed on Earth. Once those values have been lost then, and only then, would this hellspawn be unleashed on this world.
And thus, Zombie Santa Claus was born.
PART TWO: THE DANVALLEY MALL MASSACRE
December 24, 2012 - DanValley Mall - 5:36 AM
The air is crisp, the land is silent. The world rests quietly, waiting for the prospect of a new day. The sun will be rising soon. Any moment now the sun’s rays will stretch out over the powdery snow that has blanketed every inch of landscape from horizon to horizon. But it has not happened yet.
What has happened is the end of the world. The zombie apocalypse has thrust its wrath upon the Earth and humanity is powerless to stop it. For nearly two years the creatures of death have spread like a terrible virus across the map killing and converting all of mankind into their murderous hungry cult. All hope for mankind is lost.
You wouldn’t think it though by the sight of this beautiful mall, on this beautiful December morning, everything covered in white innocence. That is until…
…the north entrance to the mall burst like a thousand minute bubbles in a series of systemic explosions. In the light of the fire, the horde of zombies within became visible. They succumb to the fire like the moth to the flame, slowly stumbling towards it. Zombies dressed in Santa costumes, red and green sweatshirts with pictures of Christmas trees on them, and even a zombie in a Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer outfit all stagger their way towards the high rising flames.
Then a truck appears through the burning inferno. Not around it but through it. If it were not for the fire you would never notice it. The slick black exterior reflected the light wonderfully. It stood 8 feet tall, 15 feet long, and harbored a massive spiked cow catcher on the front. Overkill. Attached to the cow catcher is a lighted wreath held there securely by twine. Along either side of the vehicle are a row of Christmas lights blinking incessantly on and off almost as if this vehicle has just come from the future. A speaker attached to the roof of the truck chimed twice and then began to play “Sleigh Bells” loudly over the crowd of on looking zombies. It is a vehicle of death.
There is a moment of silence between the zombies and the vehicle. The zombies shambled slowly towards the vehicle, in awe of its presence. Then a door on the side of the vehicle fell to the ground with a loud metallic thump and a man stepped out, automatic rife in hand. “Rum puh pum pum, time to get us some.” He lept from the platform to the ground and shot two zombies in close proximity in the head. Both of their brains exploded out of the back of their spongy melons, painting the wall a soggy brown behind them.
“That’s a good one Eddie,” another man said exiting the vehicle.
“Thanks Jon,” Eddie said stepping aside to allow room for Jon to exit the platform.
Next a woman stepped out of the truck, her poise and demeanor were both stiff and serious, “Guys this is serious.”
“Come on Faith,” Eddie said, “why don’t you have a little…faith?”
“Stop calling me Faith, my name is Fay,” she said looking out into the expanding crowd of undead creatures, “and I do have faith. Complete faith that you’ll get us all killed if you can’t stay focused on our mission.”
“Yes ma’am.” Eddie stood at attention and gave her a lax salute.
The last person exited the vehicle. She looked out beyond the boys and their toys into the abyss of zombies. “Looks like you were right Fay, there is a gathering here.”
“Better get your gun Sarah,” Fay said not taking so much as a glimpse away from their targets, “It’s time to deck the halls with boughs of zombies.”
“YEE-HAW!” Eddie shouted, then fired several rounds into the upper balconies of the mall. Three zombies toppled over the guard rail and fell nearly three stories. Having been undead and decomposing for nearly six months, when their bodies hit the ground they kind of just…splattered like soft ice cream hitting the floor.
At this time Jon, Fay, and Sarah had their weapons and were firing at the zombies. All of the living dead that were hit exploded in brilliant flashes of red, green, brown, and black. Being that their bodies are extremely brittle made for a swift and easy kill. This is easy pickins is what Eddie would have said. “This is easy pickens!” Eddie said. Their bullets tore off limbs, severed heads, splattered coagulated blood from every orifice. But they kept coming. The mall had been full, and the gathering here was colossal.
“Oh shit! I almost forgot something,” Jon turned and bolted into the truck.
Fay caught glimpse of this deadly mistake in her peripheral and turned towards him, momentarily holding her fire. “Dammit Jon, get back in line!” Fay shouted at him but to no avail. Jon did not get back in line. Fay shook her head and whispered, “Idiot.”
A minute went by when Jon returned, this time carrying a long slender box roughly three feet long, a bow taped to the end. He returned to Eddie’s side (back in line!) and tapped him on the shoulder. Eddie turned nearly shooting at Jon, “What are you doing!? I thought you were one of them!” he pointed towards the zombies, “I nearly blew your face off!”
Jon didn’t seem to care, he held out the package and said, “Merry Christmas.”
Eddie looked down at the package and then back up at Jon, “Aw dude, you shouldn’t have. It’s not even Christmas yet.”
“That’s ok,” Jon waved a hand at the package, “my family could never wait until Christmas to open their presents. They always did it on Christmas Eve.”
“What are you doing!?” Fay had turned towards the two grown men and their gift. The light from the fire reflected in her eyes making them seemingly blaze with fury. “Guys, can’t this wait? They’re still coming!” Fay continued to shoot but now turned away from Sarah and started to side step closer towards Eddie and Jon. What she failed to see (and what Sarah failed to see as well) was the door to their left, the door marked “Maintenance” gently crack open.
Eddie opened the package and as he looked down into it, all the sounds of bullets, explosions, and “Sleigh Bells,” momentarily ceased to exist. He looked up at Jon, his eyes wide with joy. Christmas joy. “Where did you get this?”
“I found it at the last gathering we cleaned out. I painted it myself,” Jon said with a smile.
Eddie pulled a red and white cylinder out of the box and held it in his hands. The red and white paint swirled around the cylinder twirling upwards into eternity. He felt the weight and balance of it in his arms, wholly satisfied with its construction.
Fay pounded towards them, the fire still burning in her eyes. “What are you guys doing, you need you back in line! We’re not done here”
Eddie glanced at the candy cane colored cylinder and said with wide eyed wonder, “It’s so beautiful.” Eddie turned towards Fay, showing off his new toy. A candy cane painted anti air craft bazooka. She looked at him and jotted a stiff finger in the direction of the zombie horde closing in on their position. He turned towards the zombies then shook himself out of his haze, “Oh right…the zombies.”
Sarah held her fire for a moment and watched the Eddie, Jon gift exchange. “Men.”
It happened without warning. Sarah was so caught up in the drama that consisted of Fay chewing out her brother Eddie and his friend Jon (an event she lived for) that she broke her concentration from the task at hand. A voracious mouth opened wide, rows of misshapen, missing, twisted, and deadly teeth salivating riotously within its murky depths rose high above Sarah’s pleasant existence and clamped down like a snapping turtle onto the top of her skull. She shrieked. The maintenance zombie (complete in a red stocking cap) had a firm grip on the top of her head, bit down, and split open the rough and tough bones that supported her fragile brain. The bones fractured and cracked, spiderwebbing in all directions like a broken windshield. It tore the piece of broken bone and spit it out onto the floor. She shrieked again. The creature miraculously spoke, “BBRRAAAIINNSS.” The undead maintenance worker wasted no time and dipped its decaying, maggot rotten fist into the top of her head and spooned out the pulpy remnants of her head bowl. It devoured a handful then tipped her head back once more for another serving of brain soup. She shrieked wildly.
It was at this point that Fay, Eddie, and Jon noticed what was happening. It was too late. Sarah was lost to this world.
Fay didn’t know that she was gone for certain, not yet anyway, and she unleashed hell on the maintenance zombie. She dropped the pistol she had been using and unsheathed her double barreled Remington from its holster on her back and slammed it down into her hands. She pulled back on the forearm (making that wonderful and harmonious cha-chunk sound), fiercely jogged towards the maintenance zombie that had now taken Sarah’s life, pointed the barrel into the side of its temple, and pulled the trigger. (You can about imagine the mess it made. Hopefully there’s another maintenance zombie left over once this crew of zombie hunters is done here.)
Jon ran to Fay. They stood side by side looking upon the messy remains of the maintenance zombie and the mangled corpse of their friend Sarah. He tried to comfort her but she shoved him away.
Meanwhile Eddie stood in line. Unable to move. He looked at the horror that had been his friend…then he looked down at his brand new toy…and then he turned his head to the oncoming zombie mass, their numbers seemingly have maxed out since all of this began. Fortunately for Eddie all of the zombies were lined up perfectly down the middle of the mall. Eddie turned and pulled up the eyesight on the bazooka. He rested the cylinder on his shoulders and paused. He felt the weight of the weapon, it felt good. He let the anger of his friends death fester and transfer from his heart into his trigger finger. Then he fired.
If there actually was a maintenance zombie left in the scattered remains of this undead army, he’d have his hands full for months cleaning up this mess.
The hunters got back into their vehicle of death, none of them speaking to one another. Eddie turned off the speaker which was no longer playing “Sleigh Bells” but now had turned into “Santa Claus is Comin to Town.” Fay broke the silence when she said, “Jon, get us back to the farmhouse.” And with that, they drove out of the mall and into the rising sunscape. The sun’s rays stretching out over the powdery snow that blanketed every inch of the landscape horizon to horizon.
Author's Notes:
These parts...along with all the parts...were extremely longer than I had originally planned. So far, this is my longest story to date. Tuesday's Suck was close but still about 2000 words less total. But in Part 1 I really wanted to bring around some mystery and origins to Zombie Santa. And for some reason I really really liked the name Arthur Methias. I don't know where it came from...cuz I'm really awful with names...but there it is and I'm satisfied with it. And also...I googled the history of Santa and 1773 is the first occurrence of Santa that's ever been recorded so that's why I chose that year. Kinda really nerdy huh?
And Part 2: Like everything I write I wanted to open up the main story with a bang. But this part was really hurt by the fact that I was restraining myself because it was about this time that I realized I was going to go over my words if I was to tell the story that I wanted to tell so I had to rush a few things. I wanted to fix it but I just didn't have any time. The whole story kind of seems that way...because my limit was 10,000 words and I had somewhere around 9800. Sucks that I had to restrict myself, I could have made it so much cooler. lol. But anyway...Part 2, I love Sarah's death. I think that is the most descriptive I have ever been with anything ever. Even reading it now...I'm like wow. I wrote that? Crazy.
