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ALMOST DEAD II : Seeing Red

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You may have heard of me. My names' Ernest Larson. I've got a bad reputation, and I really hate

that. Cause it's not the truth, and I don't like being thought of wrongly. I guess I'm just like

anybody else. I roam around my yard, through the woods, sometimes strollin' out into town.

Maybe the only thing that sets me apart from a lot 'a people is the fact that I died not to long

ago. Was back in '93 if 'yer keepin' track.

Yeah, got into a little tussle with my son. After my son became a father, I obviously became a

brand new grandfather. He seemed to think that I was intrudin' on his life, trying to be the

father I never was to him. It wasn't much like that... I jus' loved them kids. I woulda given my life

for... whoops. Well, I didn't exactly have to give my life away for them kids, my son went ahead

an' took it into his on hands for no reason. He took a wood chipper to me... those dern blades in

that chipper were so dull, man that was rough.

Well, I went through that wood chipper, and I felt every bit of the pain. I'll try to save you any

more 'a the gory details, but lets just say, I don't feel much better now. No, being dead... or

almost dead - as I like to think of myself - isn't all it's cracked up to be. My bones still hurt, I feel

every stitch that goes through every body part I had reconnected. I'm so stiff, I walk like I got

peg legs. You probably think it's all pretty funny, but there are numerous bad things about beinga dead man walking the Earth again.

I just stay so starved-like, it is a pain in me, I just have to eat. Can't a dead man eat once an' a

while? It's not only that, though... well you're about to hear what I DO go through all the time.

Go ahead and feel sorry for me. I'll allow that. Now I know you heard the first part of my story,

probably through little Cody's eyes. Well, as much as I loved the kid, I had to do what I did to

survive. You see, they ventured into MY woods. No, they didn't know I was gonna be there. I

have always lived in them mountain woods, it just so happened that they came to 'em. I knew

ahead of time, though. I couldn't wait to get one last look at my grandchildren. Forget the

parents, they did this to me. To heck with them.

Well, I never wanted to go and kill any of 'em, it's just that... well, they saw too much. In the

undead world, there is a code of conduct kind of thing. You just can't let the living know thatyou... came back. Any time I go out I've got to be covered completely with clothes and rags. If I

didn't, my skin would be falling off all over the place. Can't have that. And then there is that

eating thing again.

To the almost dead, we starve for human flesh and blood. Without it, we would just fall all to

pieces... literally.

Every bite of meat just keeps us walking that much longer. Which brings me to my story. You

need to know my side of the story.

It was early fall season and I was feelin' great. The leaves were just beautiful up in the mountain

range that time of year. I wanted to get out one day, just to breathe in the cool air, maybe go

into town. So I decided to make a trip to the supermarket. This would be some more task. I had

to wrap up completely, making sure my scarf covered all but my nose. I dropped on some dark

sunglasses, just in case, and pulled a red ball cap over my head. Sure, I would stick out like a sore

lip, but at least I would get to enjoy myself for a day.

I headed out into the trails and took the long walk to the edge of the highway. I peeked out from

behind the biggest tree I could find, waiting for a small sedan to pass me by. Once he was gone, I

stepped out onto the highway and crossed it. It wasn't a highly traveled roadway, that was

because of the other one only a couple miles over. But it was the best way for me to reach the

town and all of the stores.


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Once I had made my way through another half mile of brush, I finally stepped out onto grassy

land that meant I was on the outer edge of the supermarket parking lot. I pulled my hat down a

little lower and then set out for the front doors. I was looking straight ahead when I felt a hard

bump in my side, It nearly knocked me over! I looked to the side to see that a dumb woman in a

van had hit me as she tried to back out of a space. One of the bad things about being a zombie is

the slow reaction time we have. By the time I saw the van, it was up against me.

I was getting rather hungry, thought she might need to learn a lesson, so I stood firmly in my

place. With my right leg wedged under the back bumper, the woman had no choice but to get

out of the absurdly large automobile. She impatiently swung her door wide and smacked it right

into the side of the car next to her. Not noticing, she stomped her way toward me. Without a

hint of regret, she asked me angrily, "Are you alright?... You need to watch where you walk!"

I smiled under my scarf as I responded to her smart remark, "So do you." I pulled the thick wool

scarf off of my face and raised her soft arm up to my mouth and took a small nib-let out of the

side of it. It was pretty tasty, but she winced rather angry-like at me when I did this! Can't please

'em all, I guess.

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After the woman ran off into the woods screaming something to the effect of "HE BIT MY ARM,

HELPPPP!!", I continued on my walk to the supermarket. I approached the amazing doors thatknew when I was in front of 'em and watched as the slid wide open for me. I shook my head,

remembering the days when you had to open doors with your hands. Immediately upon

entering the supermarket, I was hit with the ghastly music I was forced to listen to every time I

visited. It was old chart-toppin' songs on the intercom, except they didn't play the words to 'em!

It ain't even the same thing when you take away the soul, the words to hitsongs!

I guess I was too attached to the past. Other things irked me about the supermarket, but we will

get into that in a minute. I knew one particular area of the store that was pleasing to me. I could

eat anything a human could, and I did have a sweet tooth, but meat was an undead man's

passion. That was why I always headed straight for the butchers freezer. Oh, I did love some Rib

eye steak.

Remember that code of conduct thing I talked about earlier? The one for the almost dead? Well,there was an unofficial thing about "Us" not being able to work for someone. It was too risky,

especially when it came to the resume. The "Personal Interests" section was always cause for a

good laugh. 'I enjoy watching sunsets on winter nights, writing poems of heartache, as well as

often feasting on the flesh of the living.

If you couldn't work, you certainly had a hard time gettin' money. Sooo... you had to steal just a

little. Just enough to get by. It isn't like the dead can physically break the law! We just bend it a

little bit to fit our needs. In times of need, times of hunger, I had to nab some kind of meat here

or there. I cautiously approached the general area the Rib eye steaks usually occupied, and

picked up a large pack. A small boy who could barely see over the freezer, glanced up at me. His

eyes filled with crocodile tears and he ran to his Mommy, who was at the sausages.

I turned my back to the woman quickly, not wanting to make another scene, and continued to

eye the packet of meat. Blood and fluids moved aside as I squeezed on the airtight packaging. I

licked my lips under the scarf and tried to think of a good place where I could go have a bite or

two of it. An idea popped into my head and I made my way to aisle seven, cradling the pack of

meat in my hands. Aisle seven was one of the few aisles in the store without food on it. Luckily

today this aisle was desolate.

I was in the magazine aisle. I hunted the shelves for a moment to find a good magazine, one that

looked like something I would actually read. I chuckled to myself as I raised an inspirational

magazine up high to my face. It was called "Enjoying Life Monthly". 'My oh my,' I thought. The


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things the living read. I ravaged the packaging, spilling blood on the carefully polished floors and

stuffed a large piece into my mouth. It was cold and tough to chew on, but I managed to tear

away portions of it.

Mid-way through my morning snack, I noticed a squeaking noise to my left. In my happiness, I

failed to notice that an elderly lady had rolled up beside me. She had seen everything. The all-

too-familiar squeak was coming from her throat, as she tried to scream.

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I sprung into action, knowing where this was going, and stuffed the slab of steak into her open

mouth. Her eyes filled with tears as I hobbled as quickly as my decaying legs could carry me,

away from the woman. I was disappointed that I didn't get to eat as well as I had hoped, but

there was still time left in the day. I finally reached the sliding doors again and walked out into

the parking lot at a more leisurely pace. I reached the car that the lady had leaped out of earlier

and saw that the owner of the car sitting next to it had shown up. The man was nearly crying

over his dented-in door. He ducked down to hide his tears from me as I strode past, unable to

contain a giggle.

I continued on, to the edge of the trees between the parking lot and the highway and waited for

traffic to clear. Once I had an open stretch of highway, I jogged across. I followed my usual path

through the overgrowth and continued on to my cabin. When I reached the front porch I took astep up and stopped. Something was wrong. The screen door had a slash cut through the middle

of it and the hinges were broken loose. Someone had been riflin' through my house while I was

gone. Upon entering the door, things only got worse.

The floor was covered in all of my belongings. Pictures were torn from the wall, lamps broken,

my chest of drawers had been exonerated of all it's drawers. Who did this?? I stumbled over a

lone boot in the floor and walked to the kitchen. I found that it looked much the same.

Everything was out of place. Something caught my eye in the middle of the counter top. One of

my steak knives had been jabbed into the wood counter top with a paper note held in place by

it.

As tears came to my eyes after seeing that my refrigerator was wide open with nothing inside, I

proceeded to the note. I carefully tugged on the six-inch knife until it tore out of the countertop, leaving a deep gash. I picked up the piece of paper that had been handwritten in red ink. In

bold, large, threatening letters, the paper spelled out what SOMEONE had planned for me.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE. YOU AIN'T GONNA TAKE OVER THESE WOODS. NOT SO LONG AS I

GOT ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT. NEXT TIME, I'LL MAKE SURE YOU ARE HERE BEFORE I VISIT.

AND NEXT TIME, YOU GONNA PAY." It quickly became clear to me that this person probably

meant business. When the letter said "I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE...", I was pretty sure the author

meant DEAD. How did they know that? ... and why couldn't I just live a peaceful afterlife? I ain't

bothered nobody, not no way, not no how. Well, then again, they seemed to be mostly mad

about me living in "THEIR" woods. I certainly ain't took them over though. But, if they wanted a

fight out of me... I would be ready.

***

Two days later, after contacting four of my undead friends, I scheduled a meeting in my cabin.

All of my loyal friends showed up for the meeting, and we all sat down in my living room... or

what was left of it. I hushed down the group after everyone had settled in. "Hello everyone. I

organized this meeting for the sole purpose of protection. The Almost Dead may be in trouble. I

know for sure that I am. For us to live peacefully, we are all going to have to work together as

one. Because someone is out to get us."

"Ernest... hate to interrupt you," Bill started, "but I think everyone should know that... I got a

letter too. Someone wants me to be... well, completely dead." Just as my old friend Bill finished


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his sentence, Derrick piped up. "Look, I got the letter, and we ALL got the same letter. My house

is ruined. I had just had quite a nice filt mignon, and I came home to such a horror! It is obvious

that someone has been watching us very closely."

I was startled to hear that not just me, but everyone in the room had gotten similar threats. But

now I knew for sure that they would stand behind me in my fight. "I don't know when he or

she... or them are planning to attack us, but we need to be prepared. I recommend we all

relocate to one location. We will be stronger if we are together when they try to surprise us."

Several of my friends nodded in agreement and Stan spoke up. "It doesn't matter where we all

go, because we all have been threatened. They will find us at any of our houses. I hate to just

volunteer someone, but Ernest, your cabin seems best equipped to house all of us... better than

any of our old shacks."

I didn't argue with him. "I have no problem with that Stan," I said. "Now... we have to use what

we are well equipped with to fight, and that is our hunger. We need to go on a fast for the next

couple of days so we will be ready. Assuming 'They' come, we will be first to attack. We will

gnaw away at them until they realize their mistake." The last suggestion didn't go over so well

with the group. This time, the youngest of the group, Richard raised his voice... "FAST? Uh, I

don't know about all that. We don't have any idea WHEN they will come! We could be starved

for months!"I tried to reason with him, "We still have an ounce of self-control, even if we are half-dead. We

can do this. If the writer of these letters is serious, we won't have to wait long. So, what's

everybody think?" Richard had a frown on his face, but the other three zombies in the room

were glancing at each other for guidance. Stan was the first to speak. "We have no choice guys.

We have to do this, and we have to do it together." A mad dash followed the meeting for the

next five hours, as everyone tried to get moved in and stationed at their posts before dark. It

WAS true that we had no idea when we would be attacked, so we had to move fast one way or

'nother. All of my buddies left and came back, left and came back for a long while, as they

collected their belongings from their own homes. Eventually, everyone was planted back at my

cabin that night. We followed through with our plan to begin fasting, but Richard had a different

plan. He had to be smacked a couple of times when he was spotted in the kitchen.We all sat talking for a while as the sun began to go down. We decided to take shifts, with two

people staying awake while others slept. Fortunately, my cabin had enough rooms so that

everybody could spread out and sleep in different areas of the house. The two people on shift

would sit by the front door, reading or watching television while they kept their post. It all

seemed like a good plan, we didn't think we could be outnumbered or bombarded when the

time did arrive.

Bill and Richard were the first to be on shift, so I got a welcome nap as well as did Derrick and

Stan. About two hours into my nap, I was shaken awake by Bill. I jumped to my feet, my bone's

snapping violently. "Whoa, we ain't in trouble Ernest, but it's time for you to be on shift". That

was a relief to hear. I sat up with Stan for several more hours before we gave it a rest. We

rotated out again to Derrick and Bill. My shift partner, Stan went back to sleep, but I decided to

go into my study to do some reading.

I shut the door behind me as I heard Derrick laughing about something. That is what we should

have been doing on that night. Not sitting up ready to pounce on the bad guys. I grabbed a book

from my bookcase that I hadn't read yet. It happened to be about some private investigators

who were hired to spy on criminals. Heck, I thought, maybe we should hire private investigators

to keep an eye on the cabin!

I got a good ways into the book when I stopped to get a crick out of my neck. I waited for the

pop, but as soon as MY neck popped, I heard a similar cracking noise from outside my window. I


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casually reached up to my lamp and clicked the light off as I crept over to the window. It was

pitch black out in them woods, the moon couldn't shine through the clouds tonight. But I

definitely heard rustling noises walking away from my window.

Now I ain't a watchdog myself, but those footsteps sure sounded like they were headed toward

my front door!

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I darted out of my study and into the living room, startling Bill and Derrick in the process. I

hopped over Richard as he continued to sleep and ran to block the front door, but as I went

flying shoulder-first at the door, it was kicked open from the other side. Wood splinters flew

everywhere as the door slammed into my back. I fell to the floor clutching my shoulder. I wasn't

facing the door after I landed, so I could only try to decipher what Bill, Derrick and Richard's

shrieks meant. And I was sure that the Easter bunny wasn't at the door.

Leaking from my numerous scars was the odd fluid that stayed in a dead man's body after all the

blood had run dry. The voice at the door spoke. "You MORON'S!" it bellowed. The man stood

there cackling at us. "You all sure are friendly for dead people. You thought that I was DEAD?

You fell for it, and I couldn't wait to take advantage of your stupidity." I was finally able to turn

and focus on the man in the doorway. He had a ski mask over his face, but apparently he

realized he didn't need to wear it anymore.He didn't need to wear it because he had already given away his identity. The man that I had

indeed befriended only four or five weeks ago was the one in the mask. The man that I had just

finished shifts with and had let get some sleep was now ready to put us out of our... decent

existence. Stan pulled off his black ski mask, nearly getting his nose stuck in the mask's eye hole

on the way off. He was clumsy. And for some reason, I immediately knew that we had a chance

against him. As clumsy as the human was, as weak as he seemed - even with his deep voice, he

was an easy prey for the Almost Dead.

"Well, why is everyone so quiet now?? I may not have help to rid the world of you creeps, but I

DO have this shiny wooden baseball bat." He brought around from his back the very bat he was

speaking of. I couldn't help but snicker at Stan. As I lay on the floor, bleeding my bodily fluids,

chuckling all the same, I turned my attention to the undead people in the room. Bill, Derrick,Richard. They were all laughing at Stan, and Stan couldn't figure out why. "What are you

laughing at? I said I have a BAT and I WILL use it." A vein protruded in his forehead as he boiled

over.

He tried to lunge at Bill who was now standing right behind me. Stan had apparently forgotten

about me, because I was able to latch on to his ankle with my very long fingernails, bringing him

crashing to the floor. Bill took the opportunity to put his knee down on the back of Stan's head,

forcing it to the floor. Derrick grabbed the bat from Stan's clammy hands and held it ready. And

then there was Richard.

Richard was licking his lips already, and did not hesitate any longer. He knelt down at Stan's side

and reached for a patch of skin he thought would be appealing. He dug his nails into the skin

and they tore the epidermis away from Stan's bones as he began to scream like a woman.

Richard carefully plucked the liver from Stan's stomach and tore away the attached strings.

Richard dug into the liver like a fresh piece of fried chicken, splattering the floor with pea-green

bile in the process. Even for a nearly dead man like me, it was a sickening sight. But then Richard

cleared everything up with his truly unique brand of humor.

"I told you guys I was hungry," Richard managed to gurgle out.

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