Small Slice of the Undead: a Zombie Anthology

Small Slice of the Undead: A Zombie Anthology

By Dairenna VonRavenstone

Copyright 2011 Dairenna VonRavenstone

Smashwords Edition

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Dedication

This zombie anthology is dedicated to all my fans, new and old. Thank you for the support, kind-words and the dedication to give an unknown author like me a chance. I want to give a special thank-you to Cassie Ray who has become a good friend ever since we randomly started talking on FaceBook. I also want to thank her for being my second set of eyes and for all her encouragement. I also want to again thank Sharon (again) for being the crazy friend I can go to in real life when I’m feeling down.

Author Note

I will be re-working this and other titles in the New Year (2015) so expect some changes in the coming months.

Contents

Itch – a story about Victim Zero

Bomb – the happenings behind a bombing

Daddy’s Home – a father’s love is undying

In the Water – don’t drink any tap water

Recording – the digitally taped events of a zombie strike

Video Feed – look further into zombie attacks from the eyes of Shun, the only surviving human

Itch

Inspiration: I was browsing a smaller publisher’s website and happened to click on their submissions for an anthology they were going to put out. The topic: Victim Zero, the story of the one who spreads the virus. Why did it start as an itch? That’s just how it came about.

It started with an itch. That’s all it really was, and the first itch happened on my arm. I was in the middle of talking to my friends at school, just updating everyone on what I did over the weekend. My boyfriend had driven into town and he took me to dinner and a movie. We went to the new bar in town and partied until like 1AM.

It was when I was talking about how the bar tender was checking me out when my left arm got really itchy under my sweater. I didn’t think anything of it then, I just scratched it for a bit and moved on. I mean, what’s an itch really?

Soon, quarter after one came and we had to split for class. I was heading to Human Anatomy and Forensics One, my friend Becca was off to Grammar and my friend Lizzie was running towards the Mackenzie building for Nutrition. The campus was huge, so it was a mystery whether or not she would actually make it. And just to clarify, college campus, not high school. This isn’t some corny high school drama.

Anyway, I went to my class and sat down, waiting for the teacher with massive anticipation. I loved that class and still wish that itch hadn’t happened so I could still be in that class. That’s one of the things I really miss: learning. I’ve always been a bit of a bookworm but a lot of people tell me I don’t look the part: You’re way too pretty to be that smart! What does beauty have to do with anything?

Class started with a discussion about the skull. Professor Stevens was pointing out where the occipital bone was when the itch started again. It was the same place, on my left arm above my elbow. This time around, it had spread a bit and crawled down my arm about an inch and a half. I really didn’t think about it, my sweater was usually itchy every now and again.

The day went on as normal and I met up with Becca and Lizzie again around 6PM. We walked down to the school bar in a light snow and ordered some food. We were all sick of the instant noodles at our individual dorms but none of us could afford anything more until the end of the month. That’s when our parents would get worried and send money or care packs. We’d eat well for about two weeks, survive on instant ramen, Kraft Dinner and cheap vegetables when they went on sale for a third week then be reduced to ramen for the last week. College was not the time to eat well.

We stayed there for about two hours, updating each other on parents, little brothers, older sisters, boyfriends and pets. Finally around 8PM we all decided to split and go home. I had a bit of Anatomy stuff to do and some mock criminal profiling and Becca had an essay to write. Lizzie had to study for a test.

That night was freezing. The snow had started coming down in huge chunks while we were in the student bar. It was all ready up to my knees when I started walking back to my apartment, located only a 10 minute walk from the school. I made it out of the campus and felt that itch creep back along my arm under my heavy winter coat. This time it was radiating from the inside of my elbow all the way down to my wrist.

I had to ignore it then; it wasn’t like I was going to take off my winter coat outside just to scratch my arm. I ducked my head deeper into my collar and quickened my pace. The itch didn’t go away. If anything, it got a lot worse. I mean, I know itches get worse when you can’t scratch them but this one felt like there were fire ants under my sweater sleeve feasting on my flesh. It kept migrating too. Now it was my whole inner left arm from the armpit all the way down to my wrist.

I finally made it home in a half-jog, half penguin walk and basically flew up the three flights of stairs. I dropped my keys once and I think I actually growled in annoyance. Once I got inside, turned on my light, locked my door and just about tore off my winter coat and bag just to scratch at my arm.

It felt so good once I was finally able to get the bulk of it. What I didn’t noticed (at first, I sure as heck saw them later) were the white flakes coming from under my sweater sleeve as I scratched and scratched at my arm. I was in the main entrance with my boots soaking through the carpet for at least ten minutes, just clawing at my arm. Finally, the itch went away and I stripped out of my boots and put everything away.

I carted my bag to my room and in the span of those few minutes, that familiar itch started tingling at my elbow. That’s when I decided that the sweater had to go. Yes, it was an amazing shade of teal that highlighted my red hair and green eyes but it wasn’t worth this much trouble. High fashion was not worth discomfort, EVER.

I think I actually tore my sweater when I took it off. I can’t remember and I haven’t really looked at it since. But it did pile to the floor at my feet as I scratched my arm in the darkened room. Finally I flicked the light and caught my reflection in the full length free standing mirror across from my door.

I think I actually fainted when my eyes landed on my left arm. Actually, I KNOW I fainted because I had to get up off the floor to get closer to the mirror. That and my head was just throbbing where I had hit it on my downfall. I didn’t care about my head though, it was my arm that had my throat clenching in fear and my breath coming out in short gasps.

My left arm was a mass of red. I’m not talking mild irritation either, I’ve had that before. It was BEAT RED like a stop sign. As if that was bad enough, flakes of skin were literally just falling off my arm wherever I had scratched. I had never seen any rash on ANYONE look this bad. To make it worse, I was STILL scratching. Skin was just sloughing off my arm and sticking under my nails and I couldn’t STOP.

I was actually morbidly fascinated with it for a long while. Just watching the skin fall off and start piling on the floor was kind of intriguing. Then it hit me: this was MY ARM. This was MY SKIN. I stopped and grabbed the top of the mirror in my right hand, holding my left arm closer to the glass to study the damage.

In retrospect, I really shouldn’t have done that. There were black spots appearing where I had scratched the skin too much and they were oozing this clear fluid, kind of like pus. I felt bile rise up in my throat and barely made it to the toilet to relieve myself of the pizza sub and potato chips I had for dinner. It didn’t taste as good coming up as it did going down.

I think I was dry heaving for about 15 minutes before I noticed an entirely different stench coming from my immediate vicinity. At first I couldn’t make the link to what it was exactly. Then I sniffed around my left arm and just stared in shock.