I thought of death often.

At times I yearned to drown myself in the mountain streams, or wander off into the forsaken lands beyond the forest, to be torn and tortured by the walking dead.

I suppose the entire town considered giving up at some stage. We had all lost someone we loved to those who walk the earth and feed off the living. After losing my wife to flesh eaters… God knows what I’d do if I had to lose my father and my little boy as well.

And on one fateful day, ten years after our lives changed forever, it was altered once more. No matter how hard I’ve tried to rid myself of its gruesome facts, I can still recall walking across the town square towards the cave entrance. It was actually more of a village than a town. Somewhat of a last vestige of mankind since the zombie war started. We had no communication with the world beyond the forest, and none of the scouts my father sent out ever returned with survivors.

Surrounded by electrified fences we taught our children to farm and to fight, to survive. The Drakensberg Mountains stood guard to our rear and, with the forest forming the rest of the perimeter, we thought we’d be safe. Little did we know that the true evil lived amongst us.

The glare of the setting sun reflected off the solar panels mounted to the side of the mountain and into my eyes. I entered the vast cave system of residential domiciles and laboratories. All the civilians lived inside the caves, but most of the soldiers, including me, were content with living outside in their tents. The sky was about the only thing that hadn’t changed since the outbreak, our own piece of heaven.

The elders had just finished one of their regular meetings as I walked into the command centre. Mr Rice – who always managed to rub me the wrong way – whispered something in my father’s ear. He looked angry.

A cloud of exhaustion hung over my dad like the living dead over a cadaver. He shook hands with Mr Rice and smiled when he saw me waiting at the door.

“What brings you here?” he said as he approached.

“I wanted to know if Lucas could stay with you tonight.”

My father gave me a suspicious look, one that said he knew what I was about to say, and was prepared to argue if I said it. “Why?”

I nodded at Mr Rice as he walked past, a malicious grin plastered over his face. “I’m on patrol duty tonight. I swapped so I can go with Jamey, I mean Private Thompson.”

He shook his head. “You’re the son of an elder, dammit. You’re a captain yourself. You don’t have to –”

“I like to do my share. I want to protect the people. I feel like enough of an outsider already.”

“You’re already living in a tent outside, and even worse, making my grandchild live there with you.”

“Lucas loves it.”

“Is that why you’re hanging out with Private Thompson? You want friends?”

I loved my dad, but he could really get my blood boiling. “The guys respect me when they see me work just as hard as they do. Unlike them, I wasn’t a soldier before the war. I don’t want them to think I was promoted just because my father’s an elder.”

He grabbed my arm and whispered, “Not so loud,” into my ear as he pulled me out of the room, nodding and smiling to anyone who might’ve noticed our dispute. “Fine, I’ll watch Lucas tonight. But tomorrow we talk about this. You want to make friends, you chat with the people who are in that room right now. If you want to take my place one day, you’ll have to stop hanging out with the soldiers. They are not your friends.”

It was really strange that, although I had always been known for my bravery on the field, I still hadn’t managed to scrape up enough guts to tell my dad I didn’t want to be an elder. I liked to fight. Like my mom used to say, “It’s in our blood.”

A few hours later I left my tent in full battle-ready uniform, covered in a lightweight steel, gauze-like netting, like the ones the divers used for swimming with sharks, back when people still did recreational things – other than killing zombies.

I gave a last check over the essentials. Pistol; machete; rifle loaded and with extra ammunition; small backpack with solar-charged torch and fresh water from the stream, sterilized, just in case.

Lucas eyed all my weapons. He was the fastest learner in his class, and loved to watch me take my weapons apart and clean them. I can still remember the day I first saw him. Birth and marriage had become great symbols of life since we started our little town. Therefor death by natural causes was seen as a religious journey, one from which no zombie infection could wake you from. My mom’s death wasn’t natural as such, but at least her body lies at peace in the cemetery. She fell from the mountain pass.

My dad didn’t say a word to me as I dropped Lucas off at his place. I didn’t feel much like talking either, since I could see the lipstick-stained glass on the table behind him. The scientists were capable of creating lipstick and makeup from the plant life, but it was only available to the elders and their partners. Looks like my father’s new relationship had reached a new level of benefits, for both of them.

A few minutes later I was with my best and only friend Jamey, patrolling just inside the outer perimeter. Our assignment was to check for holes in the fence or any other abnormalities.

Sometimes we’d get a few civilians charging the fence. The elders blamed it on people feeling institutionalized. Since then we tried to have less soldiers on patrol and more spots where civilians could just sit and relax. Basically, to most of the men and myself, night patrol’s only purpose was to soothe the fears of the civilians.

“I hate this,” Jamey said with a troubled look on his face.

I adjusted the rifle strap and peered at the eerie shapes the sawn-off trees cast in the moonlight. “Can’t say that I blame you. Nothing scarier than a couple of zombies in the dark. In daylight they’re just sluggish and comical.”

“At least you’re here,” Jamey said. “Thanks for swapping out.”

We made our way along the fence, past the small patches of corn and tomato fields, and into the graveyard. Some of the tombstones had been shot to pieces in the first zombie raid. That was before the electrified fence. It was also the day they took my wife. Not a day goes by that I don’t wonder where she is. Or what she’s doing.

At night, only the thrum of the generators reassured me the fences would still shock the hell out of anyone brave enough to touch it, living or dead.

“Man, I still can’t believe your dad’s getting married,” Jamey said. “Your mom’s only been dead for a few months.”

“Jeez, Jamey. Ever heard of subtlety?”

“Sorry, Chris. I’m just trying to draw my attention away from the graves. So, does it bother you?”

“Of course it bloody well bothers me. But… I guess he’s old enough to make his own decisions. I just wish he’d let me make my own.”

“What’re you talking about?”

A dull thud saved me from an unwanted conversation. “Shh… you hear that?” I turned to a group of graves to our right.

Jamey froze.

Another thump.

I readied my rifle. Jamey followed me through the maze of shadowed graves towards the source of the sound.

“That’s Ms Crowley’s grave,” Jamey whispered.

“And?”

“She’s one of the teachers, man. I hated teachers. I’ll shit myself if she jumps out and tries to eat me.”

“She’s not coming back, Jamey. She died from a heart attack.”

A scratching sound crept through the ground. Another thud. The crack of wood splintering. Then silence.

Procedure dictated that I should wake the elders, yet excitement and the power of making my own decisions dictated my actions. I ignored Jamey’s blank expression and thrust a nearby shovel into Ms Crowley’s grave.

By the time the steel of the shovel scraped against the wooden surface of the coffin, the moon had already dipped behind the mountain. I wiped the sweat from my brow and, with Jamey taking aim from above, opened the coffin. The revolting cocktail of rot mixed with formaldehyde and an empty coffin overwhelmed my senses. A large hole in the side of the box clearly showed why Mrs Crowley was no longer there.

“That’s impossible,” Jamey said.

I reached out my hands. “Give me the lamp.”

“Are you nuts?”

Call it male bravado, widower’s will or just plain daddy-issues, but I had to go in. “I’ll be back in five minutes and then we’ll call the others. Stop worrying so much.”

“I’m not worried about you,” Jamey said. “I know you can take care of yourself. I’m the one who has to stay up here, with Mrs Crowley possibly strutting around right now. Not to mention ghosts.”

I smiled, stepped into the coffin, and bent down.

“Who says they don’t exist,” Jamey continued. “People used to say zombies only belong in stories. Now look where we are. Standing in a graveyard looking for disappearing corpses.”

After pushing a few vine-like roots out of the way, I thrust the lamp into the darkness, thankful my hand didn’t get bitten off. But my relief quickly turned to unease as I pushed my face through the hole and the shroud of creepers that covered it. It reminded me of the opening curtains welcoming me to the start of an old circus freak show.

A cornucopia of spiders, worms and deformed insects scrutinized my every move as I crawled into the small tunnel, the lamp dangling inches from my face. At first I was calm, yet I soon jerked at every imagined movement within the shadows.

A few seconds later I reached a dark opening, much like the black hole our teachers taught us in astronomy, or the throat of a sleeping serpent waiting for its meal.

I slipped into a larger tunnel, several meters in diameter. The lamplight flickered across the walls. I swatted at something running up my leg only to see a dim splotch scuttle across the ground.

The mordant stink of death and rotting corpses were nothing new to the survivors of the zombie war, but I noticed another, unusual odor below the graveyard. A smell that ate at my nostrils. A smell of chemicals. The combination of these odours compelled me to spew my supper over my boots.

I placed my hand against the side to steady myself. It fit perfectly into a void in the wall, the handprint of a dead soul most likely. I watched in awe as thousands of handprints draped the dirt-compacted walls.

Beyond the reach of the lamp, zombie moans echoed in the distant dark. Dozens of smaller tunnels twisted into the side walls, no doubt linking up with other graves. Only then did I realize that, although one end of the huge tunnel led to the forest, the other twisted towards town.

My heart raced. I scrambled back to Jamey, squashing six-inch worms beneath my palms. I suddenly felt claustrophobic. The smaller tunnel closed in on me like a casket over a corpse. I couldn’t turn. What if something grabbed me? I could already see the rotten hands reaching for my legs.

“Wake the elders!” I shouted at Jamey as I reached the outside. I placed the lamp in the empty coffin and stood.

“What’s down there?” he asked.

“Tunnels to town, Jamey. Now run. Before it’s too late.”

Jamey nodded and bolted, leaving me by myself.

“And tell them to wake the townsfolk,” I shouted after him. “Start the evac!” I looked up at the stars and took a deep breath. I had risen from the grave like the living dead. Unlike them I felt freedom, not torment.

A thump forced me to look down. Two festering limbs breached the vines and grabbed my feet. I tried to yell but only managed to choke on my own fear.

I reached for the machete in backpack, too late. The creature pulled me down, inching me bit by bit into the hole.

I reached for the side of the coffin and hung on, but the creature’s unexpected strength proved too much. The casket groaned under the pressure of my grip. I knew it wouldn’t be long before it would shatter. My weapons lay so close, but still unreachable. I lunged towards the shovel that stood against the far side of the grave. I seized it and flipped onto my back. The zombie yanked me through the hole.

Two bright yellow eyes pierced through the blackness below. I thrust the shovel towards them and hoped for the best. The zombie did not let go.

We crashed into the darkness of the main tunnel. A heavy weight fell on top of me and slammed onto my shoulder. The zombie was trying to bite me. His teeth ground against the safety mesh of my uniform, his groans muffled.

I did my best to roll out of the way or kick myself free, knowing that it only took a few seconds for a reanimated corpse to work his derelict teeth through our safest suits.

I got to my feet and pull the machete from my backpack. I stabbed it into what I believed was the middle section of my attacker. As soon as its jaws loosened I swung the machete in the direction of the undead creature’s moan. The blade struck its target with a soggy thump. Silence.

I fumbled for my torch. My heartbeat throbbed in my throat. I switched on the torch and checked my surroundings. My shoulder was fine. I stared at the headless corpse beneath my feet, relieved to have survived such a close call.

I shone the beam into the blackness ahead and felt the need to explore further, just in case the zombies were launching some kind of attack – the town would have to be protected. I guess I should’ve waited for the elders and the town guard, but being a trained and well-armoured soldier, I had to press on.

Recovered from the shock of the attack, I stepped forward, reminding myself that those moving corpses were nothing more than mindless shells that only follow their natural instinct to feed. Besides, zombies weren’t the toughest opponents if you had the right gear on.

Still I felt anxious.

I stopped in front of a side entrance and, hearing grated breathing from within, switched off the torch. I inched past the blackened opening. A luminous glow emanated from the walls within the cave-like room. With my machete still in hand I watched the somewhat lifeless undead sway from side to side. The shadowy figures moaned and grumbled as they stared at the walls, unaware of my presence and perhaps even of the world they now inhabited, well trained circus animals awaiting orders.

A few meters further another entrance beckoned. Awe pressed down on me. I gazed at the stacks of bodies piled up along the sides; putrid, decapitated bodies missing several limbs. I wiped the chunks of dilapidated flesh from my machete and continued on.

I found another entrance, a vast cavern with several coffins spread out in the centre. On top of each coffin lay severed heads, limbs and organs, some unmoving while others writhed and convulsed on their dusty beds. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have assumed them experiments.

A moan drew my attention towards a pile of what looked like wood stacked against the far wall. I barely noticed the stick-like arms stretching out towards me.

“Please,” a male voice whispered.

I rushed to his side and withdrew slightly. A group of starving people sat hunched inside a crude cage of human bones and splintered coffins tied together with roots. The stench of piss and faeces was clearly winning the battle against the cocktail of death and chemicals.

Another voice begged me for help.

“What is this place?” I asked.

An old man pressed his face against the femur-bars and licked his lips. “They… they’ve evolved… elp us.”

What I found even stranger than my surroundings was the fact that I didn’t recognize any of the captives. Where did they come from? Could the tunnels possibly stretch towards other villages as well? Or were they all that remained of a former world?

A loud drum resonated in the coldness. Growls and footsteps echoed closer. My mind was a mixture of disbelief and panic. Could the undead have found the body in the main passage? Did they actually just sound an alarm of their own?

My body trembled. “I’ll get you out,” I promised them. I hurried to the wall beside the entrance and pressed my back against its clay surface. My clammy fingers curled around the machete. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I had to save these people. A part of me craved a fight, yet another told me to hold back and pick my fight. Especially if what the old man said was true.

The moment the snarling zombie horde sprinted past I realized the severity of the situation. Those zombies were indeed like nothing we’d faced before. They were faster, perhaps even stronger than what we were used to. The one who pulled me down earlier certainly was.

The creatures passed. I almost jumped as I noticed something hard press against my back, a large rock within the sand perhaps. I flicked on the torch and scraped my fingers into the hardened sand. There was a wooden beam that ran up the side of the wall and connected with a larger frame. It most likely connected to a structure that kept the entire cavern and tunnels from collapsing. Either those zombies were smart, or those tunnels were man-made.

I moved the torchlight to the far wall, fracturing the shadows. A steel construction with several levels of shells reflected back. It contained what from that distance appeared to be test tubes and glass bottles filled with human body parts and unborn babies. I didn’t dare go any closer.

Someone was coming. I switched off the torch and crouched down. An icy dampness poured down my body as I turned corpse-cold. Something entered the cavern. It sniffed the air and growled. I could almost feel the ground shake. I had only seconds to react.

I set the torch on the ground, pointing it in the direction of the zombie’s grated breathing, flicked the switch and charged forward.

The undead being raised its hand to deflect the blade, but the steel cut through his rancid flesh and split his skull. I was relieved to know there was nothing special about the zombies.

Another zombie, dressed in what looked like a white outfit, stepped into the light. I almost hadn’t seen it enter the cavern. Somehow its features seemed a bit more alive than dead. It studied me for a moment, then rushed forward with the same animalistic hunger all the undead possessed, its yellow teeth protruding from its pale brown face.

The survivors issued a few futile attempts to scream, but I hardly noticed as I readied myself.

I slashed the machete towards the zombie’s throat. He dodged out of the way with incredible speed. I sliced air. He struck me against the chest and sent me crashing into the wall.

I reached for my handgun.

“Wait,” he grunted.

The voice startled me, but I charged forward once more. Again he evaded my attack.

“I’m not a zombie,” he yelled.

I stopped, raised my machete in warning, and waited for his next move. “Well you move damn fast for a… whatever you are.” Only then did I notice his outfit was more of a uniform, a scientist’s lab coat to be exact. “Who are you? What are you doing down here?”

“Those senseless elders of yours.” His speech was calm yet dominant, an evil genius discussing his masterful plot. “They put me here.”

“Then why have I never seen you around?”

“They needed me to find a cure. Forced me out of my safe-house and into the back of a truck.”

Could it be? An actual survivor? Then why did my dad tell me they never found any? “You’re lying.”

“Do you think I care what you think, boy? They left me down here to die. Those bastards!”

“Hey.” I pointed the tip of the machete towards his face. “One of those men is my father. You watch your mouth.” I pulled my pistol from my belt, knowing that a gunshot in those enclosed spaces would not only attract the other zombies, but also cause a lot of damage to my ears.

“You watch your father’s expression when you tell him about me. If you don’t get eaten first.”

More out of anger than thought I lunged forward. The scientist bounded over my head with superhuman strength, striking me against the back of my head. I plunged forward and crashed over the coffins, falling face first into the dirt. Severed limbs started to move, to waken, to grab hold of a prey it could no longer devour. Good God, where was my pistol?

The scientist snarled with a zombie-lust as he circled me.

“What are you?” I asked.

“They started bringing me other humans after a while. For testing, at first.” He continued to circle. Drool dripped from his chin.

He had to be lying. My father would never do that. Mr Rice perhaps, but not my father. “Why would they do that? We’ve been looking for survivors for so long.”

“Silence!” He circled faster and faster. “They stopped feeding me after a while. Probably ran out of survivors.”

I kicked at a amputated hand making its way up my leg. “God, what did you eat?” Glancing at the prisoners and detached appendages scattered across the cavern answered my question.

“I’ve been building up my army of super-zombies to attack your base and then spread across the land. With my help the virus has mutated. I allowed it to take hold of the earth and spread through the roots.”

“That’s how you reanimated the corpses from the graveyard.” The thought of my mother ambling through those dark corridors made me dizzy. “You’re mad!”

The scientist circled me like a hungry dog waiting for its master’s order. He stopped in front of the torchlight. Darkness swallowed his face as he calmly spoke. “Soon I will release the virus into the earth’s water. It will spread across the land and oceans and every corpse, bitten or not, shall rise. I will be their god.” His voice grew deeper, almost animal-like. “They’ll worship me. Obey me!” His breathing grew louder.

I searched the sand for the pistol, but it was too dark to see. I fumbled for my rifle and, from my slumped position against a coffin took aim. I had to stop him from raising more of the dead.

“Move forth my children!” With outstretched arms he formed a black cross blocking out the light. “It’s time to take back our land.”

The volume and pace of the distant drum increased.

I braced myself for the intense sound and fired. The scientist slumped forward with one knee on the ground, but quickly leapt towards me and swatted the rifle from my grasp. The wooden handle struck me in the face and knocked me down.

With the taste of blood and dirt in my mouth I crept over the limb-infested soil towards my rifle. The hands grabbed at my clothes. I grasped onto the rifle and spun around.

The scientist withdrew a few steps and then approached again. “I am a god!”

I steadied my aim and fired. He buckled, wavered for an instant and pushed himself up again like a drunk. A piece of his skull hit the dirt, yet he stood upright.

I scrambled to my feet and cursed as I once more took aim. The second shot ripped half his head clean off.

I yearned for the cheer of the prisoners to invigorate me, but all I could hear was a loud ringing in my ears accompanied by more dizziness.

With my flashlight and weapons retrieved, I stared at the dark opening of the main tunnel. The distant drums continued to pound. Part of me wanted to go to its source, another craved to escape. Staying underground had almost cost me my life.

“Don’t leave us,” the old man said.

I glanced at the prisoners. “I’ll come back for you. I promise. It isn’t safe yet.”

The possibility of meeting the remains of someone I knew in that blackness beneath the graveyard poisoned my mind. The thought of killing an old friend – or my own mother – haunted my every step through the darkness.

I glanced into the cavern where the mindless dead had stood earlier. Its emptiness sent shivers through my body.

Something stirred behind me. I swung the flashlight around, catching only a glimpse of movement that disappeared once it reached the wall. It scuttled above me and fled from the light of the torch. My heart pounded, the rifle slippery within my clammy hands.

Muddled gunfire and hell-bound shrieks reverberated from above.

I moved as quickly and silently as I could towards the exit. I spun at every sound and shadow, expecting to find one of the radical zombies at every turn. I could hardly focus. Where was I?

A large figure loomed in the distance. A zombie, shoulders drooped and lengthy arms almost touching the ground, waited for me in front of the Mrs Crowley’s tunnel. I took a deep breath to calm myself. My left hand clutched both the flashlight and the belly of the rifle. I aimed at his head, only to see him cower behind his arms. I lowered the rifle, but kept the light on him. Still he cringed. Only then did I realize who it was – Mrs Crowley herself.

I moved forward. Mrs Crowley snarled and scratched towards me in her retreat. More zombies emerged from within the darkness behind her. Others moaned in the distance behind me, their deathly groans growing louder. A fire fight was no longer an option.

Knowing I couldn’t make it through with the rifle and torch, I placed the rifle on the ground and grasped my pistol. I turned my back to the hole and slowly reversed inside. They swarmed the hole to watch me, waiting for the light to expire.

I squirmed out of the hole and into the coffin, never before so pleased to gaze upon the inside of a moonlit grave. Two zombies lay beside me, riddled with bullet holes, arms and legs bent in all directions. “Don’t fire! It’s me, Chris.” I stepped onto the edge of the coffin and waved my hand so they wouldn’t think I was a zombie, then pulled myself out.

Out of the gloom appeared several figures, running towards me. I reached out my hand towards the first guy. He raised his foot and kicked me back into the grave, knocking the back of my head against the bottom of the coffin. “Stay where you are,” he shouted in a familiar voice. The other soldiers surrounded the grave.

“What’s going on?”

“Back up,” the soldier ordered. I quickly realized it wasn’t a soldier. It was Mr Rice who kicked me, his face vexed, his fingers fondling the pistol in his belt. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Men who had previously jumped at my directives now pointed their rifles at me. I wanted, no, yearned to get out. “What’s going on?”

Mr Rice waved his hands at the gathering soldiers. “I said back up!” My father walked up behind him, a look of anger wrapped across his face.

“Come on, the zombies are right behind me,” I said. They’re not normal. They’ve got tunnels leading towards town, dammit.”

Mr Rice knelt down beside the grave and whispered, “You keep your mouth shut. Those tunnels are properly sealed, anyway.”

“Not anymore.”

“And whose fault is that?” Mr Rice said.

“Don’t worry. I killed your little scientist.”

My dad walked closer. “Dammit, Chris. Why did you have to go down there?”

“You can’t leave me here.”

Mr Rice stood and turned towards the other soldiers. “We can’t risk it, men. Captain Winters stays in the grave until we’re certain he hasn’t been infected. I’d say by morning. Now reset the perimeter.”

“If you make it that long,” my father whispered to me before walking away. Something in his voice made it sound more like a warning than a threat. Then again, maybe that’s what I needed it to sound like.

“What about the zombies?” I shouted as they left. I continued to explained how the new breed of moving corpses hated bright lights, not sure if anyone was listening. It wasn’t long before the spotlights came on. Unfortunately for me the lights did little to purge the shadows from my tomb.

I was such an idiot to have stayed in the tunnels after Jamey had left. I should’ve gone with him. God knows what they did to him. How could my own father betray me?

I could only imagine what my son was going through. I had to see him again, but I knew they wouldn’t let me out. I knew too much. Just like they probably thought Jamey knew too much. They’d find a way to silence me before morning, if the zombies didn’t get to me first.

A deep rumble beckoned from the opening in the side of the coffin.

In an effort to save my ammunition I scrambled to the far corner and raised my machete, waiting for the foul mouthed demon to show his head. His head emerged and I thrust the blade through his cranium, his stale, semi-coagulated blood sloshing like a rogue wave across the wooden surface of the coffin.

Several hours passed before anything else happened. During that time I contemplated returning to the tunnels and looking for another exit. Something moved above ground. They were coming for me. I quietly relocated to the other side of the coffin and raised my pistol. Whatever happened, but I wasn’t about to give up without taking a last stand.

My father stepped into view, a shotgun dangling by his side, a gratified grin on his face. At least he had the guts to finish me off himself. He knelt down. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“Where’s Jamey?” I demanded. “Is Lucas alright?”

He nodded. “I should’ve told you about all this earlier. I guess what you haven’t seen down there yet you’ve pretty much figured out.”

“Pretty much.” I refused to lower my aim.

“You have to know, I was against it from the start. But the elders are very strict about matters of discretion. Plus, they really hate being stood up to. And… there’s one more thing.”

I lowered the pistol and fought the urge to raise it.

“They had mom killed. Rice caught her eavesdropping on a conversation about the tunnels and gave the kill orders to one of the other elders.”

“And you did nothing.” I said it a bit louder than I had hoped.

“They threatened to kill you.” I imagined a tear shaping in my father’s eye. Perhaps I wasn’t imagining. “I’m really sorry,” he continued. “It will never happen again. I’m making sure of that.”

“What do you mean?”

Before he could answer Jamey walked up beside him. He held a bloodied Mr Rice by the neck and dropped him at my father’s feet. He smiled at me and turned back.

“What’s going on?”

“We took over the town. The soldiers weren’t too happy about you being stuck in a hole. Most of the elders have been taken out. A few of them are on our side, but I took care of the bastard who killed mom.” He looked down at a beaten Mr Rice and then back to me. “This one’s yours,” he said as he shoved him into the grave.

A wave of happiness coursed through me. I knew things were about to change for the better. “Thanks, Dad. Sorry for giving you grief about your new girl. I should’ve known something was wrong.”

“No problem. Now shove this sack of shit down that hole so we can get out of here.”

“Not yet. I have a promise to uphold. Pass me your torch, Dad.” I flicked my own torch on and, after sheathing my machete, thrust the other torch into Rice’s hands. “You’d better hold on to this.”

“No, please,” Rice begged as I pulled him through the hole with me. I dragged him along the main tunnel, enjoying the act of occasionally allowing him to stumble to the dirt. I could hear the zombies surround us, keeping just outside the reach of my torch.

Rice couldn’t stop screaming about not being eaten alive. “I’ll make you an elder,” he pleaded. “You’ll be the youngest leader ever. Imagine the perks.”

“Is being threatened a perk? Is getting your family torn apart a perk?” I shook my head and smiled. “I’ve never even wanted to be an elder. And guess what, there will never again be any more elders. From now on no one will be denied any of your royalties. From now on there will be no more hierarchy.”

I pushed Rice into the cavern. The prisoners struggled to their knees.

“Oh, God,” he said. “They’re alive.”

He turned towards me and I struck my fist in his gut. “Stay here.”

I drew my machete, and with the help of a few strong kicks, hacked the makeshift dungeon to pieces.

I pulled out the old man and three more survivors, their skin stretching across their frail skeletons. “Can you hold onto this?” I asked the old man. “It’ll keep the zombies back.”

“Who’s he?” the old man asked pointing at Rice.

“Our contingency plan.”

The creatures growled extra loud on our way back, perhaps not keen on the idea of having their food taken from them. Or could they possibly have been aggravated by the death of their creator? They drew closer, ignoring the intensity of our flashlights more and more with every step. Luckily I was prepared.

I kneed Rice in the gut and watched him collapse the ground.

“No, please.” He clutched onto my uniform. “Forgive me.”

I grabbed hold of his hand and sliced the machete through the air, stopping only after I held his amputated arm in my grasp. His screams echoed through the tunnels. “That’s for my mother.” I hung onto his arm as we continued forward, listening to Rice’s screams increase and eventually stop. “That should keep our rear open for a while.”

We reached the exit. The old guy and I stood watch as the survivors made their way up the narrow tunnel, knowing that my dad would be on the other end to greet them. I took the other torch and managed to keep the advancing zombies at bay while I helped the old guy up and into the hole.

One of the undead flung a piece of Mr Rice leftovers at me, knocking one of the torches out of my hand.

A daring zombie charged forward. I kicked him against the torso, snapping his ribs beneath my boot. He stumbled back into the pack of hungry flesh guzzlers. I hopped into the hole and crawled as quickly as I could, ignoring my newly found fear of small spaces.

A hand grabbed onto my ankle. Its skeletal fingers squeezed so hard I thought I’d been bitten.

I let go of the torch and clung onto several overhanging roots, kicking my free leg at the zombie’s hand. I squeezed my one arm down the side of my body and reached for my pistol. My fingers encircle the butt of the pistol. I pulled it free and fired. A hot burning sensation ripped through my leg. I’d been bitten. I fired again and again until there were no bullets left. Finally the zombie’s grasp fell.

I pulled myself through the darkness and into the moonlight. My father jumped into the grave and pulled me up. We both stared at the blood seeping down my leg, relieved to discover it was only a bullet. Most bullet wounds heal, all zombie bites kill.

We climbed out of the grave together and I collapsed onto the grass. I hadn’t realized how tired I was. The old man winked at me as they carried him off to his new home.

I pushed myself up and turned towards the soldiers. They stood at attention and saluted, even my father. I had finally earned their and my dad’s respect. I returned the salute and promoted Jamey on the spot, placing him in charge of a full scale advance on the tunnels. Our town had a rat infestation that required clearing.

—–

Joe Mynhardt is a South African speculative fiction writer and teacher. While having dozens of short story publications in several e-zines, websites and anthologies, Joe also tends to a tome of story ideas scraping for a chance to be written. His influences stretches over a variety of writers from Poe, Doyle and Lovecraft to King, Connolly and Hill.

In his spare time Joe blogs about haunted buildings and the horror writing craft. He is also a moderator at MyWritersCircle.com.