Undead: The Journal of the Thinking Zombie (Short Story)

Chapter 4: Who's the Monster?

Loud sirens sound in the distance, and the herd I'm in starts shuffling towards it. I follow them, half focused on the direction and the other half on the zombies themselves.

There has to be others like me; zombies that can think.

I can't be the only one...can I?

I nudge a balding man near me, and he turns his grey head to stare at me emotionlessly.

"Zzzeeedd," I moan, pointing to my chest.

I point to him, hoping he'll get that I want to know his name.

He groans and keeps walking, not giving me a second glance. I frown, continuing the lopsided shuffle as the herd grows larger.

I look around to see that there's a barricade coming up, and I can hear shouting coming from it. As we get a little closer, I can see that it's a group of normal humans wielding large machines.

There's a rapid popping sound as some of the zombies at the front of the group collapse. I freeze, my comrades wading past me like water around a stone in a river.

They keep walking, and I moan in terror, trying to stop them from going to their doom.

"No! They'll kill you! Don't you get it?" I plead.

Not a single creature listens.

I turn and push past them, a few bodies right near me falling as their head is blown apart. I make a strangled noise and throw myself from the herd, falling to the ground as I crawl away.

I hide behind an overturned truck, my milky eyes wide as I watch the herd thin out as more and more are taken down.

Even as the bodies pile up, a sizeable amount manage to make it to the wall, snarling and taking down the gunmen. They scream as their flesh is torn from their bones. I hobble out from my hiding space, the gunfire stopped.

Every gunman has fled or is dead.

I pause.

Fled.

Dead.

Zed.

I make a weird noise in my throat, like a laugh. I just rhymed three words.

I continue towards the herd, digging into the fresh meal. I still love the taste of the meat, the blood coating it as I gnaw happily on the delicious meal.

Yet, part of me feels almost guilty. This man had friends, people who loved him...

My kind took him down.

But...they took down my comrades. Sure, I didn't know them that well, but we're all zombies.

So...who's the monster?

I stand up, taking one piece of his belly as I wander away, chewing thoughtfully.