Monday, May 28, 2012

Drop Dead Love Chapter 2 :Revised, Remembered, Regretted

     She was going to die anyway, so the death was not the hard part. The rest that was denied her, this is what drove Joey insane. His wife Serina had developed lung cancer after smoking to much one step meth. After surviving drug induced cancer in both lungs, she kept on floating the boat. Joey had made the shit in the early days, but for the last year and a half he had sworn off it and ran anybody coming on his property away at gun point. He still thought he could save her. The doctors at the ARH told them both rather bluntly the diagnosis, just another fiend getting what they deserved.
    He had stuck with her though. When the doctors, the family, friends, everyone had deserted her, he had stayed. She had cheated on him many times, he knew she would blow anybody for a quarter bag. As few as six months ago when she had dropped to under 80 lbs and could barely walk he had caught her getting fucked in the bathroom by a local drug dealer. He left, but he always came back. She had nobody else.
    So when she finally passed he was saddened, but also relieved. He felt as if a weight had been lifted and he felt guilty for weeping more out of joy than loss. So as he covered her in a sheet and walked out the door to call the authorities he was surprised to hear a loud thump from the bedroom of their small apartment.  He left the key hanging and walked back to the bedroom slowly. "Serina? Baby?" His heart jumped, could she be alive? Could he have made a mistake? "Serina."
    The door suddenly flew open making him jump back toward the Kitchen. Serina stepped out with more strength than she had in months. "Serina?" Her eyes had changed the capillaries had busted from the stroke that killed her, and she bore her teeth like a wild animal. She rushed Joey before he could make it to the door. They struggled as he plead with her quickly realizing that she was no long his girlfriend. He threw her small frame back into the bedroom bouncing her across the bed into the wall. He slammed the door dragging the dresser in front of it as quickly as he could. He began piling as much furniture as possible against and on top of it as Serina pounded and thrashed at the door. If she had been healthy before death Joey was convinced she would break threw. As it was he felt lucky she was only 75 lbs soaking wet. He swept his shoulder length oily brown hair out of his eyes and wiped the sweat from his brow as he finished his task. He had gotten small at one time but since quitting the crank he had gained not only weight but muscle. His nearly six foot frame was finally recovering from the ravages he had put it threw.
    He could do nothing but think of her. He had loved her since the day they met 3 years ago. She was getting pimped out by a pill dealer to support his OC and cocaine habit. Joey was one of the dealers her old man fooled with. He traded her for an eight ball of crack. Joey had never really fucked a beautiful woman before and back then Serina was beautiful, to beautiful to just be some junky's trade goods. Her brown hair fell naturally framing a face whose simple yet elegant features just worked as icing on a cake. Her body was thick in the way a man loves, and Joey loved it more than anyone. She had a look of innocence to her, and alone, she had confided many wonderful, and horrible memory's. But that was a little later. For now Joey saw opportunity, any way to expand his business. It wasn't cheap buying product to sell, other to use, paying favors for anyone taking a risk. It all took two things, money, and dope. Serina had the ability, if properly managed, to bring in both, and be out on a little time, sweat, moans and groans, and half of those she faked anyway.
    He knew what she was, and at first, he treated her as such. She didn't seam to mind. He set up the deal, she fucked or sucked for the dope or money and they got high. It was when speed hit the mountains, and Joey fell in love, that she really went to hell.  Joey played it cool as long as he could but after awhile he flew into rages after she finished off with a john. This only served to make Serina hide her work. The first time he beat the shit out of her, he had caught his best friend, balls deep in Serina's ass. He had watched them threw a crack in the door, she loved it, she begged for it. He began to shake and finally burst into the room bashing his friend in the head with the butt of his pistol. He grabbed her and threw her into the shower screaming about her being a dirty whore. She tried to escape but he back handed her sending her flying back into the hot water , just a few degrees shy of being hot enough to blister the skin. He didn't let her out for an hour, even after the water had turned ice cold and she had begged him. She quit the "whorin" as she playfully had described her profession, for awhile after that. But as the speed really came on and the one step method made it possible for any idiot to make, she started her old ways again.
    To keep her from going around town Joey began dealing then making "shit" himself thereby eliminating the need for her to fuck for the dope. She fucked for fun then. Toward the end she even gave that up. She had been bed ridden for well over 3 months, and for the first time since they had met he knew she had been faithful. So had he. He hardly left her bedside in that entire time. Everything he could possibly need was within a mile of his apartment, and while cheap, old and un-refurbished, with hard wood floors worn smooth by decades of use and doors that where cheap and thin in the days when that meant two pieces of paneling, with cardboard rings in the center providing at least a small illusion of defense. He only left when he had to go buy food or other necessities. He had made the occasional new release rental, but as things got worse he even gave that up. She wasn't the Serina he had seen the worst from anymore, looking at her tiny frame barely visible under the thick blanket she insisted on, even on the hottest of days. That Serina, the one he so desperately wished to keep from being real, the one he blamed himself for partially creating, and certainly encouraging at first. He hated himself for all of it, and wracked is brain with ways to repent, or somehow make things even.  
    He had really understood her toward the end. She had problems, bad problems. Her childhood had been a mess, abuse and neglect, from the father and the mother. The father had simply left. She saw him around town, and she knew she had several half brothers and sisters scattered throughout the county. Some she talked to , it was no big secret who her dad was, but others would look threw her like she didn't exist. They didn't want to be associated with people like her. This simply served to damage her self esteem even more. She had associated sex with love at an early age, she had confided this in him. That was the the two sides of their relationship. She hurt him, he raged, but in the time they spent alone, together, she could make him melt and feel so terrible for his reaction to things she couldn't control. It made his head spin just to think about it and the entire relationship had felt like his blood  pressure was elevated and a tension gripped him every waking hour with worry over the actions of someone that he had absolutely no control of that she didn't grant him. That was something he didn't realize till closing in on her last month. She didn't see fucking as cheating. No, to Serina it was simple business, you wore a rubber, you came on her not in her if you insisted on finishing up like that. You paid up front, and she only dealt with strangers if her "manager" could be in the room next door. She didn't love any of her clients, sure she had some she was more fond of, some because they would slip her extra dope or money, and all she did was talk a lil sweeter and act a little bit more enthusiastic when they where hunching with everything they had determined to show Serina their manhood and how they could still show a modicum of sexual prowess. She knew her job involved a lot more than just laying on a soft surface to act as a human pin cushion. Joey never could accept that everything , except her feelings for him, was just an act. It was all purely mechanical, and a means to an end in her view. Her fucking had nothing to do with loving Joey.
     She even told him once that the only person she never "fucked" was Joey. He had been high back in those days, and only vaguely recognized it as a compliment. As he had looked in on her earlier, that forgotten moment had flooded back to him. Being clean and certainly feeling emotions with a all new renewed sensitivity and strength, her barely breathing frame was replaced by her sitting in her blue ADIDAS jump suit, saying it to him again. This time slightly different, and he suddenly realized the completely accurate version. "Don't you get it you asshole! You! Your the only one I never fucked you stupid sum bitch!"  She had been sitting with her legs out but as she had tried to tell him how she truelly felt, but knowing she was talking to "Other Joey" and it was useless, she had crossed them and was now sitting Indian fashion.  He wouldn't remember it tomorrow and if he did, he would fuck it up, or completely remember the entire thing differently and have this false memory, which he believed in whole heartedly. The look she had gave him said it all, now that he could remember it clearly, it was a look that said "Why do I try? Why do I care? I could work easier and maybe even make more. Why do I let him hold me back" it was a look of contempt, anger, and frustration, and then it slowly faded into a look he had only seen a handful of times from her. It was a look of pity, of love so strong, it hurts when you just can't make the other person see you would never hurt them, that all they needed to do was see your view of the business. Then, maybe they could see, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't convey exactly how she felt about him, and what she had felt come alive inside her, these last few months as she lay dying. But she couldn't, the last month, her voice box had completely given out, leaving her to use a small bell tied to a string she could flick with a slight movement of her wrist. Then Joey would have to struggle threw her gesturing, and trying to explain what she wants or needs.
     The worse she got, and the more angry and frustrated she got from being unable to convey to him what she meant. There was no longer a "fear of death" for her, no , now she had nothing to look forward to except an ever hardening "struggle with life" This was supposed to be her peace, and in many ways his too. She would no longer seek a love that nobody could give.  This was going to be the end for them both, they would be together forever, or at least that was the plan. Joey was going to go out in style, turn on the gas light a candle and block off all the door. It would make the papers. They would be famous, and it would be fast, a part he feared and sought to make as quick and painless as possible for himself. He thought of his own being scared , petrified that he may feel like he's dying for a few seconds. While poor Serina had felt herself dying for far to long, and still her tiny body had fought for ever last second of lucidity. He felt so ashamed, so weak when compared with her, so guilty for all the things he had said and did, when he realized the power of the words and his stupidity for not realizing just the true nature of their life together. She was at peace, his work was over, and there was nothing left. It was time to clock out. To make the world remember Serina, and make it face up to the angel cast down to this hell on earth.
     At least that had been the plan. He had covered all the windows with double layered plastic. Not completely air tight but certainly an effective barrier. Yesterday, sensing her time was close, he had duct taped a layer over the closet door and had hung but not secured around the frame, a layer over the bathroom door. He had a natural gas stove, laundry dryer, and small open faced gas heater, another visible indicator of the apartments age, and the apparent "greasable palms" nature of the local health ad safety inspector. The heater worked just fine, and as long as someone was sure footed and not accident prone, or expect small toddling children, you would probably never have an issue with one. But a slight stumble could lead to horrible burns and scars from even the slightest of touches to the heated glowing face of the steel and chrome blast from the past. One of the ceramic bricks, which heated to a comforting, inviting glow when the gas was running was gone, probably first cracked , then removed to help in easy lighting, since the procedure for these type of old heaters was to hold a flame over the burner, turn the gas valve with your other hand, and at the same time try to lean as far backwards with your face and head as possible. It made a WHOOSH! sound as the small cloud of gas caught, and shot a ball of blue flame clearly over the metal rim on top and further than the two little steel bars which served to warn someone who would  obviously be way to close to the flames if the heater was working anyway, and leveled down to its even predictable, dependable wall of flames across the heater. "Fuck!" he says , more to reassure himself that he was not dead or asleep and in hell. He cleared the distance between the still thrashing Serina in the bedroom and the heater with speed and purpose. He turned it off grazing , and slightly burning his forearm. He hadly even registered it though, as the initial panic and adrenaline was ebbing away, he didn't even notice the minutes passing, as he stared at the door. Watching it shake, and bulge amazed at what 75 lbs thrown with reckless disregard for bodily injury could do.
    Now he didn't know what to do. His mind, accustomed to drug deals, and dangerous situations, he had even sensed and prevented a couple different double cross robberies over drugs and labs. When in danger, he had always prided himself on  acting quick, smart, and with a situation solving level of violence. Seemingly dialed perfectly in. If need be he could handle a deadly threat with deadly force, Joey was a dead eye, and never left home without his pistol back then, or beating several members of a particularly nasty Mexican gang which tried to run the city of Hazard, the next county over. Even he admitted that one was pure luck, and if they had sent a more seasoned, experienced crew in to begin with, he would never have made it out alive. As they where though, all young men who had seen a fair amount of violence, but had never gotten much dirt on themselves. Their flinch, was enough to kill one and put another into a motorized wheelchair for life. After that display of willingness to kill the majority of the punks ran as far and as fast as they could, one struggled to unjam a old Italian pistol, so poorly stamped out of inferior metal that joey doubted if the damn thing had ever worked even new. He had taken it as a trophy, a lot of people thought it was to prove how bad Joey could be, and how tough he was. Joey never corrected them, but in truth when he looked at it he never thought about a glorious battle, he thought about Serina, who was hid in the other room, armed with a pistol and warned that if she heard shots to stay hid and try to wait for them to leave, and to only shoot, if Joey was dead, and she was next. Joey had played the deal calm , never letting on the bits of Spanish he had learned spending time in jails in Northern Indiana, and working with different people's and being shown the differences between the regional dialects at different places in between stints here or there across the state. So as the two cocky young men bragged back and fourth to one another , commenting on how smart they where, and which one would indeed do the job after he got done weighing out several ounces, and kilo's of product. Making sure, to keep a handful of product in hand at all times. The one thing they where smart enough to know, is if they fucked up the product, and therefore the money, that only blood ties and sworn oaths could save them from such situations. The penalty for failure by reason of stupidity and or carelessness was easy to remember, death,the means of which are always chosen by the leader(s), to be as humiliating, long, and painful as possible. As Joey had got to his last half pound of decent grade meth, he made his move. As he sliced the bag open he swung his arm out in an arc sending a plume of harsh tasting, eye burning powdered meth into the air. In the same motion he reached the wall which had what apeared to be a piece of top rail to chain link fence construction. It was long, almost too long butJoeys luck held true. It turned out almost perfect, knocking men down, making others dodge and stumble and still more simply get out of the room. As he cleared the numbers in the old county storage building away, he began to grant himself the privilege of worry. He worried that the ones who had ran out, may just be waiting on the other side of the door ready to gun him down. His whole display had been out of desperation, that, and fear. Not fear for himself, while anyone would be an idiot to not have a healthy level of fear, without that keeping you careful, you never last as long as he had. No he feared for Serina, he knew how they would have handled it, they would have searched every room, killing all they found, then burnt the place to the ground. After she almost shot him from shear terror, having reached a point of frenzy from hearing the fight Joey had won in the next room. It had been so loud, and violent that she just knew there was no way he had survived. Lucky for him she looked before shooting, and ran crying into his arms.
     Suddenly, Joey came to himself, his last mental image was of holding her, and her pleading with him to just go down the fire escape, to get away. "I can't baby, this isn't the type of shit you leave unfinished." She thought he was doing it out of pride, and revenge for them simply turning on him. She didn't believe him when he told her the truth anyway, so he let her and everyone else believe whatever they wanted. He only told her that story one time, and her refusal to believe sealed the truth away in his brain, that he killed and dumped 5 Mexicans, not for fear of his own demise, but fear of hers. And the pain of living threw her loss. That was why he had originally planned on suicide, as time went on however he saw that as being the only reason to be pretty fucking shallow and not any kind of memorial to her, not by itself anyway. That's when he planned to blow the place up. 
     But a calm washed over him as acceptance of her condition clicked and his brain began to process it as best any human could. He had seen enough b movies, he knew what she was and he knew he had to dispose of her. Even if she wasn't a zombie she was obviously mad, and would be killed by the cops if he called them. No, he had to do it himself. The thought of her brains splattering against the plain sheet rock wall flashed in his mind like the visions one has of stabbing their own mother mother in the kitchen. You don't know why you think it, it was just a flash, like a single frame of film. You shake it off, but you thought it all the same.
          He could hear the sound of her small frame thrashing against the door, not ramming but almost an acceptance of the door and her inability to get threw it. The sound coming from her throat was little more than a harsh rasp her vocal cords being mostly eaten away by the cancer.  "Please Joey, please I'm better now let me out.... "
    "Serina? Whats going on I don't understand. " He had heard her voice, not the raspy whisper he had heard in the months before her death, but the strong husky voice that had whispered in his ear the many nights they lay together in bed. He stood up from the table his head shaking and twitching uncontrollably. "Baby, is that really you....? " He began to inch toward the bedroom door.
    "Yes, you got me threw it I'm all better now. We need to leave I want to go somewhere and start over. Lets go the two of us like Bonnie and Clyde." Joey, tears in his eyes found he was removing the chairs and dresser away from the door. He didn't hear her now, no sound of movement. He put his ear to the door and heard nothing.
     He slowly began to turn the nob , "Serina, baby it ..." The door flew wide throwing him backwards stumbling over the chairs he had used earlier to bar the room. Serina was on him in an instant her jagged meth ridden teeth biting at his arm as he tried to defend himself from her gnashing jaws. Spittle flew as she tried in vain to get a good hold into his flesh. He got his knees under her and pushed as hard as he could flinging her tiny frame against the wall. She was up almost as quick as him, but he was able to grab one of the wooden chairs and slam it into her has she she charged.
    The gun! He had to get his gun. As she recovered he dashed for the refrigerator. She was quick on his tail so he flung the fridge door wide slamming her back and buying him the precious few seconds he need to grab the Honey Comb box from it's top.  He never even pulled his hand from the box firing with the gun still inside. The box exploded and so did Serinas left shoulder. If it caused her pain it never showed but it did slow her down, and the next shot hit home as her skull exploded and she crumpled to the ground.  
    His heart was beating faster than it ever had even when he was tweaking. So much for romance, so much for a grand exit, he shoved the barrel into his mouth as tears streamed down his face. Fuck it all. Serina was gone. He bit down on the barrel and shook uncontrollably as he began to press the trigger with his finger.  He looked over at her tiny frame threw the glare of tears, "I'll be seeing you soon baby."
    Suddenly the whole building shook and a loud explosion brought him to his senses. He dropped his hand slowly. "Why? If your there God, why? " Slowly he rose, backing against the counter and regaining his composure. Shakily he shuffled to the door. Looking threw the peephole, he didn't see anyone in the hall so he eased the door open peering down the cramped filthy corridor in both direction. Threw the window at the end of the hall he could see black acrid smoke rising into the air. He stumbled mindlessly to the window and peered down seeing blue Ford Ranger crashed cab deep into the side of the building. The driver was half way threw the windshield obviously dead, the passenger, a young girl covered in blood began to move and try to open the crumpled door. As she struggled the body on the hood began to stir. Soon it was thrashing and trying to pull its way on out of the truck.
    The girl began to kick at the door trying desperately to get it open before the thing could get loose of its glass prison. His thrashing intensified as he noticed the fresh meat trapped near his legs.
    Joey began to come out of the daze he had been in since killing Serina and he noticed the gun still in his hand. "Hey asshole!" He yelled drawing the gaze of the beast and locking eyes before he loosed the 40 caliber in his hand. The first shot struck him in the chest  blowing a nice sized hole but not stopping him. He shot twice more finally hitting the top of its head and splattering blood wide across the hood. The girl was finally able to get the door open and was screaming openly in the street.
    It was only then that Joey began to notice the outside world, people were running, fires burnt in a few building including the Mission Church a few buildings down. Thankfully most of Hindman was hand cut stone, fashioned from large bricks which helped keep the fires from spreading, and also granting those stupid enough to hide, a false notion of safety. Because while the walls certainly where strong, the large windows made for displays back when there where still stores to display stuff in Hindman. Now all they did was display what was next on the menu for the first horror that spotted the crouching huddled survivors.  A 90's cavalier nearly hit the young woman as it sped down the street, its back window and trunk covered in what had to be blood. People hurried to their cars carrying little if anything. Joey's eyes were drawn to a young man maybe 75 yards away, as he struggled to process the scene, the young man no older than 16 or 17 was trying desperately to open the door to his van as a large man stumbled from a nearby alley and began to run with surprising speed for a man so big. The younger fellow barely made it into the car before the mountain of a man slammed into it at a full run. The drivers window exploded and he was dragged from his car screaming while being eaten alive.
    "If you wanna live get your ass up here! " he yelled to the girl, still obviously in shock. He thought of firing a shot to snap her outta it, but she began to stumble toward the door as the large man gave her notice. He was almost on top of her when Joey fired. His bullet missed its mark but did shatter the kneecap of the man-mountain sending him face first onto the pavement. His teeth clattered across the black top as his nose was ripped clean from his face. She was in the building though and that's all that mattered, maybe she would have a better idea than Joey of just what the fuck was going on.
    He met her in the hall way and hurried her into the room, she gasped as she saw Serina's shattered body laying in a heap. "I had too, you saw whats happening out there."
    "Yeah its bad, really bad man. " She was checking the locks on the door.
    "Its strong, trust me. I made it so it would take at least a few licks from that damn thing cops use to break down doors."  She was beginning to catch her breathe and instinctively trying to straighten her hair and clothes out. She was a pretty girl she wore too much makeup, he could tell she would look better without it. What was he thinking. He had just killed his girlfriend.
    "Uhmm whats your name? " He said as he fumbled in the refrigerator for a bottle of water to off the girl. "Here just calm down, whats goin on out there? Who are you for starters. " He lead her to a chair he quickly grabbed and set upright.
    "My name is Penny. "

I hope you guys enjoyed Chapter 2. Please leave comments below, and spread the word if you enjoyed.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

More Poetry Fresh From My Pen to U

Did You Know What You Had
By Michael Wallen 5/22/12

So easy to cry, so easy to fall. 
Different am I than those from before.
See me! Please... see me. 
Hold my heart, take it and hide!
Its ripping apart as I scream!
In your hands, so soft, fragile, and strong
would you keep it forever?
Would you know what you had?
Ohh how I wish you could see how this feels.
No soul living or dead, could offer a love so pure.
Conceived in a heartbeat....
and grown when your near.
Is it really over? How ? How? HOW?!
Can you throw it away
and forget what you held?
I keep trying to give it back.
And I refuse to fail.

     Hope everyone likes it. Please comment and discuss below. Please like and share.

And Now Something Completely Different

Donnie Loved His Cats
By Michael Wallen 2011

Donnie loved his kitty cats
by all accounts to much.
He slept with them, not quite that odd, but then he took them to his CHURCH!
The preacher who'd known Donnie long, 
just put up with the bunch.
Though when Donnie brought his litter box, 
the preacher said enough.

He took them on, the few dates he had.
Some women sneezed then ran.
Others lasted longer, but it always ended bad

At the market it was worse for him. 
Especially near the fish.
He never bought food for himself.
The cats always chose the dish.

Yes, Donnie loved his cats so much.
The only witnesses when he died. 
They must have loved their Donnie too.
Because they ate a Donnie pie.

Walking To The Snow
 By Michael Wallen 2008-2009

bleak ..bleak... winter
so grey and splintered
cold and lonely those thoughts they haunt me
every single year

all the losses
lives so wasted
their memories they pain me in the dead of the night ashes

I see a lever to the furnace
but I can't warm the cold
We are burning comets
Finite lives we lead

Someday in the cold
My friends I will all see

     I hope you enjoy these two they are just the first of many. If anyone else would like to post their stuff (writings, videos, whatever ) please contact me,

A Bit About My Writing

     I want to say about the narrative Drop Dead Love, that it is meant to push boundaries. It is meant to show a dark side of what is right in  front of peoples eyes. It is meant to show that sometimes terribly flawed people, who are stricken by their own short comings and desires do have another side. I have never met a perfect person, sometimes its something small as little as liking to sneak a fart in a crowded elevator. My point is everyone has a hidden bad side, and some people just don't hide it as much.
     These are the type of people I am writing about. Weather threw circumstance or choice their lives have led them down a different path than what most would consider normal people. They live their lives on a different level of danger than your typical gas station attendant. While I DO USE VERY GRAPHIC LANGUAGE IN THIS STORY it is more than just a use of words to shock the reader. Things like this happen, people like these exist. In a lot of ways I have lived my life a lot like some of the characteristics I give my creations. But maybe threw my writings things will change a little for me. 
     I am going to post some of my poetry before the next chapter of DDL, I hope you enjoy a different side of what I am about. Thanks to anyone that does read what I post, PLEASE SHARE AND LIKE AND ALL THAT GOOD STUFF LEAVE COMMENTS BELOW AND SPREAD THE WORD!

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Drop Dead Love Chapter 1 By Michael Wallen

Chapter 1
Ain't Fate a Bitch

    "Holy shit! Shit man, what the fuck are we supposed to do? He's fuckin dead man ! He's fuckin dead!"
    "I can see that you fat fuck! Now shut up and let me think!"
    "Oh God! Oh God! It wasn't us man he hit his head it was an accident. " Fred had a point it was an accident, neither of us made the kid climb up on the rocks over looking Laurel Lake, and we sure as hell hadn't pushed him off. The  formerly living young man was Jacob Johnson, a retard from the neighborhood that my mother sometimes insisted upon me taking with me when when I went swimming or fishing at the local lake. I didn't even want to  bring the dumb fuck with me, but he had tagged along with Fred and being the soft hearted fool that Fred was he couldn't insult the kid enough to drive him away.
    "We have to call the cops man." Fred, beside the fault of a soft heart was one hell of a conversationalist, with most of his brilliant insight followed by the closer "man".
    "Fred, calm down we gotta get our heads on straight and our story down."
    "What story Mike? It was an accident nothin else. We just tell the state police that and everything will be fine." Fred was also very stupid when it came to the police.
    "Dude are you forgetting about the joint we just got done burning? Or how about those scuds. I don't know about you but I don't like the idea of explaining a dead teen to a cop while I can barely hold my eyes open. They'll prolly try and say we killed him ourselves or that we got him high, they'll hit us with manslaughter. Do you feel like doing ten years in Clay County or, or, even worse one of those damn little regional jails. Buck says its hell and I don't plan on going there for some fuckin retard." 
    Jacobs body suddenly gave a jerk, a spasm that nearly rolled his body back into the lake. I jumped back frightened by the sudden movement.  Fred ran to Jacobs side saying "Oh my God! Thank you Lord!" over and over. "Jacob! Jacob, come on man answer me are you OK? Oh god man that cuts bad." Fred began to inspect for the wound, when with a speed the chubby Jacob never possessed in life he caught Freds hand and bit down with a force that crunched threw the bones loud enough for me to hear it over Freds screams. Blood poured from his right hand as he punched Jacob awkwardly with his left to no avail.  Jacob clawed and tore at Fred with the fury of a wild beast. I finally regained my senses and ran at Jacob as fast as I could, kicking him full force in the head. It would have killed a normal man or at least knocked him out cold. I was lucky enough to dislodge him from Freds arm and buy him a couple of seconds to get up. It was his turn now. Before the bastard could get to his feet Fred blasted him with another kick to the head this one with his steel toed boots directly to the temple. We both heard the skull fracture and the boy was literally lifted up knocked back from the force of the kick from the 230 pound 17 year old.
    The body twitched and convulsed violently, its teeth nashed in the most horrific manner. "Kill the fucker Fred! Kill him." Fred grabbed a nearby sandstone and dropped to his knees driving the dinner plate sized stone into Jacobs head over and over till it looked like an explosion in a brain factory. Fred nearly collapsed as the job was over. He  was pale and the wound to his forearm still bled terribly. I ripped the sleeve off my shirt and quickly began tying off his arm. "Fuck, it's bad, oh shit man its really fuckin bad. I think I can tie it off though just set still man and relax I gotta make this tight as I can and its hard if your muscles tensed up. " I'm telling a seventeen year old who just bashed another teenagers brains in with a rock to relax. I almost laughed when I realized the sheer madness of it all.
    "Mike, I think things are bad man. I've been hurt pretty fuckin bad before but nothing ever hurt me like this. " He scrunched his eyes together and gritted his teeth. Finally unable to hold in his pain anymore he let out a guteral growl. "Dude I need help bad. I think I can walk to the car just help me up. Then we gotta get to a fuckin phone. " He was panicked and sweating, all color had washed from his face but with tremendous effort he made it to his feet. He leaned heavily on me but we made it to the car and I deposited him on the passenger side of my Beretta. I loved that car, and I'll be damned if I couldn't drive the hell out of it.
    Driving in eastern Kentucky for a teenage boy is like a video game. The curves are steep and banked at every conceivable angle. Dirt and gravel roads and hills are normal travel threw the mountains at even normal speed was fun for anyone who enjoyed really driving. I was not in the mood for fun, my friend was bleeding to death. I was scared and shaking, but my grip on the steering will was like iron and my foot  was like lead. I took curves sideways nearly throwing Fred who was by now almost unconscious into my lap. I started to drive a little more carefully  but I still was trying to get there as quick as hell. I was surprised by the traffic as I neared the exit to the hospital. Cars where jammed at every angle, people walked, ran, some where being carried to the double doors of the ARH Hospital.
    "Hang in there Freddie if you fuckin die I'll kick your ass." He managed a a chuckle threw his clenched jaw.  "Fuck this man. " I announced as I threw the red Chevy in reverse. By this time traffic had backed up behind me but I was able to just squeeze past the Jeep crowding me in . I nearly took off my front bumper as I jumped the curb and went onto the grass . The front wheels threw grass and dirt as I hammered the gas. I Slammed the brake and jerked my hand break to stop just short of a block generator building. "Come on man, we gotta get you some help."
    I jumped out and was around the car helping him onto his feet faster than I think I had ever moved in my life. Fred was going downhill fast and when he asked me how bad I thought it was I nearly caught myself telling him the truth. "You'll make it man, its bad but I've seen worse, remember that wreck Bobby was in fuck man his leg nearly was ripped off and he lived, they even put a piece of his ass in his leg when they where rebuilding it. Fuckin rat bastard, I wish he had been made a gimp." This again drew a little chuckle from Fred. He didn't like Bobby either and knew that he was the reason that I had spent a year on probation.
    "Your mom really fucked you up over that Hehe." He still had his sense of humor it gave me a little hope and I even managed a half smile.
    The ER was a mad house. People where screaming and shouting at each other so much that you couldn't really make out what any one person was saying. It all sounded like a roar of noise. I remember thinking this must be what hell was like. A thought I would repeat several more times in the days to follow. People sat or lay where ever they could. Blood hardly a square smeared the floor so much so that hardly an inch existed that wasn't stained pink. Blood pooled under some patients as their wounds dripped threw saturated rags or towels. I was able to discern from bits and pieces of conversations that almost everyone there was the victim of an attack of some sort or another by a person who went mad suddenly. It was all beginning to click together in my head but I went into denial. Movies, zombie plagues where movie stuff. Great stuff but just movies.
    So I was genuinely surprised when the throng of people suddenly went wild with panic. The rush toward the door was like the moving of a great beast. The people moved in mass, me and Fred where both pushed along the flow of flesh as it lurched violently. The people began to bottle neck as the weak fell and where trampled upon. I nearly lost my footing as I desperately pulled at Fred trying to hold him up in the mob. The childs body that had tripped me up was already smashed, there was nothing I could have done if he wasn't. The pressure to move from the back made you go forward while the resistance from the front made you feel like you where in the mosh pit at a Slayer concert. I don't know how but we made it onto the carport before Fred finally collapsed. I grabbed him under his arms from behind and dragged him onto the grass behind the bushes on either side of the hospital doors. People where still streaming out of the ER screaming and frightened as if the devil was right on their tail. He kinda was.
    As the last of the people came out the I finally saw what they were running from. Two men and a woman emerged covered in blood most of it around their mouths and upper torso. An older lady was just a little to slow, she screamed with ear splitting intensity as they fell upon her and began to devour her. Another emerged from the doors within seconds, he was a big ole boy easily 350 pounds and he flung one of the smaller dead out of his way as he dove into the feast. Even in death there's a pecking order it seams.
    I looked back to Fred. Freddie Dean Stacy was the only child of a single mother. He and I had met in the fourth grade when he moved to Knott County, and was put into Ms. Conleys classroom. For all intensive purposes, he was my best friend. Now he was catatonic, a cock hair from death, and when he did die he wouldn't be my friend, he would be a walking set of teeth. The rabbit in me was beginning to win.
    "Tell mom I love her." He startled me as I spun to see him. "I know man, I've seen Dawn of the Dead." His breathing was ragged and labored. "I don't wanna be one of them man. Please, Mike, please..." Tears began to stream down my cheeks as I found my hands reaching for one of the large stones used as decoration around the bushes.
    "Freddie you fat fuck. Why did ya have ta go and get bit like that. I know you told me you liked it when Beck did that to ya, but I think you've went to far this time." He chuckled one last time.  As his eyes rolled back in his head I heard his bowels release and I knew he was dead. I didn't have long, maybe just a few seconds. Threw the blur of tears I raised the green stone. "Goodbye you fat fuck." The sound his skull made as I came down with all my force upon him wakes me up from time to time. It was a dull thick sound, as if a boxer was practicing on a side of beef in some 70's b movie. I only had to hit him twice, I put as much energy into each blow as I could, not wanting to think about having to beat him over and over as with Jacob.
    The stone rolled out of my palm as I remained on my knees beside my dead friend. The sound of another scream, this time much closer brought me around.  I was lucky that the entryway blinds had been shut but now they where being torn down as a woman was attacked and drove into the glass. The man was focused on her thankfully and didn't notice me just feet away on the other side of the glass. I began to make my way along the side of the building toward my car, staying behind the bushes and hopefully out of site. My mind raced in a thousand direction, I wish I wasn't bipolar. It makes dealing with such situations that much harder and much more dangerous. However I think this moment it saved me as hesitation could prove a disaster. The one thing a bipolar person very seldom does is hesitate. So I found myself darting from car to car before I had even made the decision to leave the cover of the bushes for the parking lot.
    People where running in all directions. Cars bounced off each other like billiard balls, not caring about the damage they sped off dragging bumpers and trailing glass.  My car, having been parked oddly and illegally anyway was luckily not blocked in. I jumped in and threw it in reverse flooring it as hard as I could cutting the wheel and using the front ends ability to spin itself around when going backwards. I slammed the car into drive and stayed on the grass as I rounded the corner of the building. For that reason I couldn't stop as a young woman ran out in front of me. She flew up onto my windshield then rolled off as I finally got the car stopped.
    "You motherfucker! I manage not to get bit by my fuckin step dad and you run over me!" I was helping her up and into my car without even asking her. She wasn't turning me down either as she limped to the door. "Listen asshole, if you try anything I'll cut your balls off. If the world wasn't going to hell in a hand basket I'd never jump in a car with a stranger. Especially one who just ran me over." She said all this as she sat down and slammed the door.
    "I'm sorry, I'm not gonna make excuses you already know why I was flying around the building. " I said as I took off again this time more carefully. " I think we'll be OK if we can get the hell out of this parking lot and to highway 80. Are you OK? You took a hell of a hit."
    "Just bruised bad I think. Believe it or not I've done that before. Its a lot easier if your ready for it though. Hey watch out! " I nearly ran over a man who stumbled into my path, as I swerved around him i could see the massive wound on his back it reminded me of a deer who's back straps had been cut out before being thrown away by a poacher. I heard a thump as he hit the cars trunk with mindless aggression. "What the fuck is goin on. I mean, I know those are zombies and we're alive which means we're dinner. But how? Dead people can't come back, it's scientifically impossible. " She was talking fast, and the way she talked reminded me of myself when I went manic. "It's not magic, I mean even magicians will tell ya its all smoke and mirrors. So what the fuck how the hell are dead people walking around trying to turn us into a snack pack. " She was checking her wounds and wrapping them in pieces of her shirt she tore from around her waist. I don't think she had looked me in the eyes even for a few second since we had met. I couldn't blame her i had just ran her down with an old Chevy.
    "Again uhhmm..."
    "Brittany, again I am so sorry I ran you over. You don't know how relieved I am that your ok and not one of those things."
    "Yes, zombies. I just have a hard time saying it, I know they are real and its happening but zombie just seams like such a generic played out name."
    "Are you really debating the use of the word zombie because of its over use and current perception in society. All this while we are currently trying to find sanctuary in a world full of zombies. Well how about this, the vitality challenged, or the ex warm blooded mammals that currently thirst for flesh. Listen....."
    "Mike, listen, I don't care if you call it your binky boo it's the same no matter what you call it. I just want to know why, and if like so many movies we are screwed and the world is doomed. I'm hoping for a Night of the Living Dead ending myself. I've never wanted to see gun toting rednecks so much in my life."
    I think I love this girl.

     More Chapters coming soon after some rewrites and such. I would like to thank one of my long time friends and wonderful artist , Lea Anne Cornett for the drawing of Jacob. Many of you will notice its the pic I used for my Facebook account for months and months, that will give you an idea of just how long this story has been on the burner.  I hope everyone enjoys and please leave feedback, suggestions, troll if you like as long as your discussing it that's all that matters.