ZombiePalooza - Anthology

#TeamVoodoo Pt. VI - @ChristopherArmstron8's "Seasoning of Life"

SEASONING OF LIFE

By ChristopherArmstron8

Being chased from a Buffy the Vampire party into a used car lot was not my idea of a good time. Not to mention the fact that the things chasing us were zombies. Well not exactly zombies, as they were not killing people or cracking open their skulls. Yet they made an awful moaning and had deliberately come towards us.

Why or even how zombies got here is what I wanted to know, but everyone around me was freaking out so much that I did not have the time to study them. No, instead I found myself in leather pants and a ripped baggy shirt running around VW campers in an effort to stay with the group. Every time I thought we were about to stop, someone would hear a moan and dart off like a startled deer.

This all seemed pointless to me and, after perhaps a half hour, I finally stopped running. Not wanting to completely risk my life, I climbed into one of the VW campers for protection. Once I shut the door, I pulled out my small led flashlight I carried with me everywhere. It was only because of this flashlight that I had saved myself from numerous bad corn maze experiences before, and it did not fail me know.

While both ears listened for the slightest noise or moan, I quietly shuffled through the camper. There was not much in it, probably because it had been abandoned years ago. To my surprise, I found a dented but still sealed can of Georgia peaches and numerous bags of salt. Neither were an ideal choice for a weapon but I figured it was better than nothing. The can I would keep as a close up weapon, but the salt bags would be my main weapon.

With nothing else to use as a container, I pulled off my shirt, a harder task than one would expect. Quickly as I heard the slightest of moans, I slid the bags into my shirt and fashioned a crude heavy bag. Before I could even try it, the shirt burst as I tried to lift it over my shoulder.

Shit!

Having no other way to carry the salt, I quickly began brainstorming. My original idea had been to try and crack their heads in with the salt. Now without a large bag, I had to resort to something more dangerous. Logically zombies were once humans, and they had to eat, right?

Despite no longer being able to bah in their heads, a disgusting ordeal as it was, I reasoned that I could instead cram the small bags of salt into their mouth. Outright I doubted it would kill them, but perhaps it would lodge in their throat and overtime they would starve to death. At the very least, it would serve as a barrier that would keep them from biting hopefully.

Crash.

With the first of the zombies having staggered into view, I got out of the camper. Despite my willingness to fight, I clambered up onto the roof of the camper. There I could stay out of reach and still try to shove salt down their throats. Call me crazy but it was better that learning that they did eat people when I was on the ground and surrounded.

The first zombie I saw was odd looking. Besides the odd moaning and unhealthy gray complexion, the zombie looked every bit like a normal middle-aged businessman. Not even his clothes were tattered and they even looked fairly new, which surprised me. He came straight at me and stopped only when he walked right into the camper. The look on its face was unnatural as it merely looked up at me.

Feeling that I was going to lose it soon at the complete beyond straggle nature of this situation, I grabbed one of the bags of salt. Scooting to the edge of the roof, I leaned over and while muttering an apology, shoved the small bag into the things mouth.

More zombie had appeared in the time it had taken me to get the bag of salt in my test subject's mouth. Having been successful with the first one, I took up a bag in each hand. This was going to be an interesting night to remember, assuming I survive it.

Bag after bag shoved down the gray moaning zombies' throats. Sometime during this, I started counting and, at number fifteen, I nearly slipped off the roof as I choking. Not the moans that I had been hearing but actual choking followed by the sounds of someone emptying their stomach of its contents. Worried that it was one of the others who I had ditched earlier, I looked around the dimly lit area.

All I could see were the gray colored zombies, which made me almost believe I had been hearing things. Just as I was about to shove another bag down a curly haired teenaged zombie, I jumped as an icy cold hand touched my shoulder. Screaming something along the lines of "No, you cannot have me zombie scum," I threw a punch with my hands curled around the can of peaches.

Lucky for me I had never been a good fighter, and my lunch completely missed the middle-aged man who stood in front of me. Something about him seemed familiar, and after a glance at his clothing and the clear powder on his coat, I stared slack jawed.

"Well don't just stand there man, these people need our help. How much salt do you have left?" was his response to my stupid gawking.

Shaking my head as if trying to share off a bad dream I looked at him again and slapped myself. With my slap of reality I as calm as I could as I felt like I was about to hyperventilate, replied. "Ten maybe twelve bags left. Enough for the rest, but if there are others we are going to have a problem."

Casting his eyes out to look over the mixed crowd of zombies and whatever the people that are in the transformation were called, he offered, "We might not have to use any more of the bags. If we can position of them as they are puking, the puke might work like the salt. I don't think that they will be happy with it, but better to be a human than a zombie right?"

Disgusted by the idea, but not seeing the harm in it as if it did not work, I could always resort to putting the salt in their mouths, I asked, "What's your name?"

Glancing at me with a quizzical look he answered, "James, but I don't see how that is of any importance right now."

Unable to explain why I had felt the urge to know his name, I jumped down into the crowd. Picking a test subject was easy enough and, trying not to gag, I directed it to puke on a nearby trio of zombies.

After multiple minutes with no change, I pinched my nose shut and shoved a bag in each of the trio's mouths. James took care of the rest as I threw up after having been assaulted with the smell of barf. By the time I was feeling better, all of the zombies were humans again, and except for the trio that looked extremely unhappy at having been puked on, they seemed confused.

Having never been much for public speaking but finding myself as the only one on a grasp of the situation I explained, "You were all zombies. Salt for some reason forced you to throw up and become human again, I think."

"You think. Don't you know. Who are you anyway?" Someone in the crowd called out.

Completely understanding their questions I replied, "I am not a professional, ok. You lot crashed a Buffy the Vampire party and chased me and most of the others into this car lot. The only thing that kept you from dying is that there was not a gun or decent weapon for me to kill you with. So yes salt works, and no we are not going to sit here. Split up into group of three, and scout the lot for others. If you hear moaning that means a zombie is nearby. So far, they have not attacked anyone that I know, or at least none of you tried to attack me. If you come across any salt, take as much as you can carry. With luck we can resume our normal lives soon."

"Alright you heard the man, break up into groups, and find the others," barked out someone from the crowd.

Smiling at the show of support, I prepare to get down when I felt something wet running down my side. Gently touching it, I gasped in pain. Pulling my hand away from the sticky substance, I brought it up to my face and the light. Blood cover my entire hand, and at the sight of it I passed out. My last thought was, "This is so not how the movies end."