When Zombies Attack

By Yolanda Renee

When Zombies Attack is a collection of short stories, flash fiction, and poetry over thirty individual pieces. Starting with zombies, the title selection, When Zombies Attack and ending with a flesh eater in Happy Halloween. It has horror, romance, even a bit of murder and mystery, a little for every reader.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yolanda Renee
• Release date: Dec 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215822890

Yolanda Renee

As a girl from Pennsylvania who would do almost anything on a dare, I flew to Alaska for a two-week vacation and stayed for four years. I learned to sleep under the midnight sun, survive below zero temperatures, and hike the Mountain Ranges. I've traveled from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez, and the memories are some of my most valued. The wonders, mysteries, and incredible beauty of Alaska have never left me and thus now influence my writing. Despite my adventurous spirit, I achieved my educational goals with a bachelor's and master’s degree. I still hope to get my Ph.D. I'm married and have two wonderful sons. Writing is now my focus, my newest adventure. Please connect with me at: [e-mail]

Book preview

WHEN ZOMBIES ATTACK

Tales of Horror & Romance

Yolanda Renée

Copyright

When Zombies Attack

Tales of Horror & Romance

© 2015 Yolanda Renée

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the Author addressed below.

Email: [e-mail]

YR Publishing

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and settings are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, names, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

I dedicate this book to the memory of iconic actor and comedian Robin Williams, a man who lived with the horror of an insidious mental illness and yet still managed to make us laugh.

Acknowledgments

I need to acknowledge all the wonderful people I've met during my writing journey. Folks like Mike Lombardo, the producer and creator of Reel Splatter Films. He dared me to write a zombie story, and thus When Zombies Attack came into being. Mike is a talented man on a mission to put the laughter back in slaughter.

Denise Covey and Donna Hole, two women who hosted a blog dubbed Romance Friday Writers. Thanks, ladies. You inspired my love of flash fiction and made horror and romance synonymous, at least for me.

I have to give thanks to folks like Alex J Cavanaugh. He brought together a group of writers to offer support, tips, and compassion to writers at all levels, via a blog and website called the Insecure Writers Support Group. If not for Alex, I would have given up on blogging.

To Denise Covey, again, I have to give her kudos for allowing me to stretch my flash fiction skills by asking me to co-host her new challenge blog, the WEP-Write...Edit...Publish. A semi-monthly blog hop that's all about creativity, flash fiction, and writer support. Thanks, Denise.

Thanks to you, too, the readers. You make my world!

Table of Contents

TRUE HORROR

WHEN ZOMBIES ATTACK

SAMAEL

THE MAUSOLEUM

THE DEVIL BE DAMNED

INSOMNIA

MY LOVE

BARBECUE

WARRIOR.

TEMPTATION

EXTERMINATION

THE CHOICE IS MINE

DARK PLACES

A CHRISTMAS MURDER

FALLING

THE 441 KILLER

UNFORGIVABLE

NO MORE

TELL ME

BEAUTIFUL SUCKS

YOU FOUND ME

WHEN A STRANGER KNOCKS

LOVE LETTERS

DRIVEN TO MURDER

EXPRESSIONS OF LOVE

HELLO AND GOODBYE

SECRET DESIRES

VENGEANCE FIRST

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

SURRENDER OR SURVIVAL

A GHOSTLY PURPOSE

DRABBLES

MICRO-FLASH FICTION

ENGINE 7 5 0 2 9

ALASKAN DESTINY

NO MEANS NO

CAUGHT AGAIN

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

About the Author

TRUE HORROR

True horror is

life – without purpose

love – unrequited

cruelty – without retaliation

work – with no joy

a question – with no answer

hate – misdirected

dysfunction – without family

inspiration – without an artist.

True horror is depression.

A black pit – and no visible escape.

Most of us love a good horror story. I know I do. I have fun writing them, especially from my nightmares, but life holds true horror worse than anything we can dream or imagine.

I wrote this poem, True Horror, profoundly influenced by the death of iconic actor and comedian Robin Williams. He made us laugh while facing his daily horror, the ghastliness of depression – a disease that is misunderstood, written off, and yet is as real as gravity. And the reason I've dedicated this book to his memory.

WHEN ZOMBIES ATTACK

W hat are you doing ? Mike asked as he walked into the living room, rubbing his hair dry with a towel.

Reading. Angie held up Mike's novel. Jonathan Maberry’s latest, Zombie CSU: The Forensics of the Living Dead, she read the entire title aloud.

You’re kidding. I thought you found the subject boring.

I do. How can you read this drivel? He interviews the world’s top authorities on how to survive a zombie attack – as though there will ever be such a thing.

People are reading it. You're reading it! Mike pointed out.

You need to grow up, Mike.

Angie, Angie, Angie. Mike shook his head and rolled his eyes, a habit Angie hated. They’ve proven zombies exist – through voodoo ritual – they do exist.

Drug-induced maybe – but none of them have ever eaten a human being.

What about that guy in the news recently?

He wasn’t a zombie. He was all human, a very disturbed and drug-crazed, but not a zombie.

So you say. I think the jury is still out on that one, Mike insisted.

What jury is that? You and your zombie-loving friends?

Mike sat down on the couch next to her. He kissed her lightly on the forehead. Okay, so maybe it hasn’t been proven yet. Someday it will be. Right now, it’s just a hobby. Like you and your guns, you call yourself a survivalist. What are you getting ready for, World War III?

Angie threw her arms around his neck. Touché. I’m a survivalist. You’re a zombie hunter. We’ll call it even. I’ll admit the book is well written. It caught my attention because of its survivalist mentality. She kissed him soundly. Have you finished it?

Not quite. I'm not a voracious reader like you. He got up and checked his appearance in the hall mirror.

It says the best defense is a gun. Shoot the bastards in the head. Besides they move slow enough, it shouldn’t be that difficult to survive an attack. Angie curled up in the corner of the couch and pulled the throw over her legs.

Mike smiled broadly. Now that’s what I like to hear. In an attack, I'm with you and all those guns. He laughed. Sure, you don't want to go to Lancaster tonight? Gary and the guys are having a beer/zombie fest. We’re doing a Night Of The Living Dead marathon. Why don’t you join us? It’ll be fun.

No, you go ahead. If it weren’t for the farting contest you guys always get into, I might have considered it. Angie's smile twisted into a smirk. She squeezed her nose with two fingers.

Mike chuckled. They did that because it was our first date. Everyone was wasted. Come on, they won’t do that again, I promise.

I don’t think so. They'll get drunk. All promises go out the window. No thanks. I’ll bet my last dollar no other woman will be there either.

Don’t count on it. More and more women are into zombies. Jerry said his girl is coming.

Well, I hope they treat her better than they did me. When all the girlfriends show up, I’ll consider it. Besides, I have a book to finish. Angie pressed the book to her chest.

Okay, if you’re sure, but you’re missing out. Mike picked up his keys.

I’m sure. Go, have fun. She kissed him.

Mmm...maybe I should reconsider? He held her close, his hand skimming her thigh under the throw.

You’re insatiable. She laughed. Wake me up when you get back. She kissed him again. I’ll be waiting.

Mike seemed to want to stay. Angie pushed him away but waved before he closed the door.

Smiling and humming, Angie took a long drink of her iced tea then curled up again to continue reading.

Startled awake by the fall of her book to the floor, Angie went to the kitchen to refresh her drink. She returned to the couch and picked up the remote. She muted the sound, preparing to channel surf, but all she found was news. The clock chimed midnight. The news should be over; what happened to Saturday Night Live? She kept channel surfing, but even the cable channels were showing the news. She unmuted the sound. Guess I should find out what the big deal is.

Mary Jane Finney reported. Police are telling all residents of Pennsylvania to stay away from the nuclear power plant. Something has gone terribly wrong. That’s all they'll say right now. We know the military is patrolling on the eastern side of the Susquehanna River. No one is getting in. No one is getting out. The status of those in the red zone is unknown.

Angie muted the television. She tried to digest the news. She lived in the Red Zone; she could see the power plant stacks from her front window.

She jumped off the couch, knocking her drink over. Between getting a towel to clean it up or running to the window—there was no contest. She turned on the porch light and then hurried to the picture window. She threw open the curtains. The stacks were black— ominous. There were no blinking red lights to warn low-flying planes of their presence or billowing steam clouds that spoke to their activity. No LED lights illuminating the ground and maintenance buildings. Just two black towers marring a pristine moonlit sky. These two monsters had spewed something noxious, something deadly. Angie felt the panic rise. First, with a tingle in her toes to a tightening of the muscles in her legs, then to her gut, compressing her innards into a tight ball. Her hand rested on her chest, where her heart pounded like a jackhammer in her chest, skipping several beats. Her lungs fought for air. Her mind screamed for answers.

Suddenly small explosions sounded. The outside lights burst. The interior lights shut off. Angie almost screamed. She grabbed her cell phone to call Mike. Then rushed through the house, securing windows and doors. The phone was dead. Now she couldn't charge it because the electricity was out. She stood alone in the darkness. Her heart pounded, and sweat covered her body. A chill went up her spine.

Think, Angie, think! She took several deep breaths. Moving toward the desk where she kept a flashlight and battery-powered radio. Neither one worked. She searched for batteries and found an empty package. She angrily threw it against the wall. Yeah, I’m a survivalist, she cursed.

Angie's eyes adjusted to the darkness when she realized she had a full moon. Moonlight will have to guide me. No, the night goggles. I know they’re here. She continued her search and found them in a bottom drawer. She walked to the picture window to look out over the yard securing them over her eyes. Shaking with fear, she wrapped her arms around her chest and stared into the night. I told Mike that living near a nuclear power plant was a mistake. Am I supposed to stay put or try to leave? What made those lights explode? Is it safe to go outside? Her mind filled with questions but no answers.

Angie stared into the night. Something moved in the trees. She edged closer to the window and saw flashes of moonlight reflecting off—. Damn it, what is that? She squinted to get a better look. Her eyes finally adjusted to the goggles. What are the Richards doing out there at this time of night?

Angie's eyes grew wide at their slow, lumbering movements. They barely picked up their feet. Their bodies swayed from side to side. No! She averted her eyes.

She looked back in time to see them break through the bushes on the left side of the yard. Zombies! No, it can’t be. I’m dreaming. I'm having a nightmare. She pinched herself. It hurt. She did not awaken. This is no dream. Angie watched as they moved toward her house. The yard began to fill with them, the Cranes, the Eddies, the Donners, and many more, all neighbors. Why here? Why my house?

Oh, God, oh, God!

What