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This is the first chapter of Life After Death/Original.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A faint, thumping noise was coming from outside the man's house. He wasn't sure what it was, but he ignored it, passing it off as irritating construction workers, and continued rolling his joint on his old, wooden table.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thumping continued, but the man ignored it, and finished rolling the joint, and tied the end up. He grabbed a lighter from his pocket, and put the joint in his mouth, but before he could light it, he heard a scream coming from outside. He rushed to his window and looked outside. A woman was on the ground, in front of a house, the door wide open, with a man leaning over her, ripping her apart, with blood spraying everywhere.

The man dropped the joint from his mouth, and ran back to the table he was sitting at moments before. He reached for his pistol, which was lying on the far end of the table, as the screams continued. He cocked his gun, and ran to his door. When he opened it up, the screams pulsed through his ears. He ran towards the woman, screaming.

"Hey! Get off her, you fucking psycho!"

The man continued to tear at her guts as the screaming ceased. He raised a handful of flesh and guts into his mouth, and chomped away at it, growling as he did so.

"If I have to say this one more time, I will shoot you, you son of a bitch. Get the fuck off her!" The man warned, once more, as he approached the two, and put his finger over the trigger.

He didn't pull it, however, as the man eating the woman turned his head towards him. The man was extremely pale. His eyes were a light shade of yellow, and very faint, and he had blood splattered all over his mouth and neck.

The pale man growled, and lunged at the man with the gun, as he screamed in agony. A gunshot rang in the air, and the man got up. He pulled his shirt away from his neck, and looked at his deep, bloody bite wound.


The next day, in a house miles away, two men sat on a living room floor. One man took a puff of a joint, and blew the smoke at the other man's face. He coughed, and the other man smirked.

"Fuckin' pussy," the one man said.

"Come on, Bill," the second said. "You would cough too, if some fat asshole was blowing smoke in your face."

"Fat asshole? What you talkin' bout, Shaggy?"

The two men stared at each other for a few seconds, before bursting out laughing. Bill, a tough, muscly man, with short, brown hair, punched Devon, a shorter, skinnier man, with medium-long, curly brown hair, in his shoulder, knocking him over.

"Ow, what the hell man?" Devon asked, in pain.

"You still called me a 'fat asshole'," Bill replied.

"I was joking, jeez."

They sat there in silence for the next several minutes, passing their joint back and forth. When it was finally finished, Bill reached to his left and grabbed an empty plastic bag.

"Damn it," he complained. "We're out of weed. Ugh, well, let's head over to James' and see if we can buy an eighth off him."

"Now?" Devon asked in disappointment. "But it's 5 o'clock."

"And?"

"The news is about to start."

"The news? Oh, that's right, I was trying to forget you watch that shit. Thanks for reminding me. You can watch whatever the hell you want after we get back from James'. 'Kay?"

The two left the house, and entered an old, beat up pick-up truck. Bill put his keys in the ignition, and started the truck, as it made a loud, stuttering sound. The truck sped out of the driveway, and down the rocky, cracked road.

About 10 minutes later, the truck pulled up in front of an old, beaten house. The entire street was quiet and dim, as if it were a ghost town. Bill pulled his keys out of the ignition, and jumped out of the truck, as Devon started to do the same. Bill slowly walked up the cracked, uneven sidewalk leading up to the small, pale brown house. The area around the door frame had many cracks in it, and the stairs leading up to the door screeched as Bill stepped on them.

Bill pounded on the door, and waited a few seconds. No answer. He did the same again, and yelled.

"James, open up! It's me, Bill." 

He waited a slightly longer amount of time, but there was still no answer.

"Can you believe this guy?" Bill rhetorically asked. "Come on, Dev, let's go 'round back. Maybe the asshole left his back door open."

The two walked along the long, dead grass yard, and along the side of the house, leading into the backyard. There, they found a body, sitting up against the broken fence. It had a large, gaping wound on the side of it's neck. As the two men approached the body, it moved it's head, and looked at them.

"Holy shit," Bill remarked. "That's James! What the hell is he on, I need to try me some of that crazy shit! He looks paler than Michael Jackson!"

"What the hell happened to him?" Devon asked. 

"He's on some crazy drug, pro'lly. Bath salts or something." 

Just then, James rose to his feet, and growled. His pale eyes staring right at Devon, as he tackled him.

"Ahh!" Devon screamed. "Get him off me! Get him off!"

Bill stared at the too, laughing hysterically. Devon continued to scream, barely able to hold James up. Devon's hands began to weaken, as James got closer and closer to him. James tried to chomp at Devon's neck, missing by mere inches. 

"Shoot him!"

Bill pulled up his shirt, and reluctantly pulled a pistol from his waistband. He pulled the hammer back, aimed his gun, and fired.

Boom.

Devon let his hands drop to the ground, as James dead body stopped moving, and collapsed on his torso. Devon laid there for a few moments, before pushing the lifeless corpse off him. 

"Great job, Devon," Bill said, sarcastically. "You made me murder my fucking dealer."

"That wasn't your dealer, man," Devon replied. "That was a zombie."

"A zombie? Hahaha! That's rich! Zombies aren't real, you dumbass. He was just on bath salts or some other shit. And now he's dead, and I have to get a new dealer. You're really starting to piss me off lately."

"He was dead. Didn't you see his yellow eyes and rotting skin? He smelt like garbage, too."

"Stop fucking around, Devon, and let's get out of here, before the cops show up and throw us in the slammer."

Bill walked back around to the front of the house, but Devon stayed. He glanced over at James' body, but his eye caught something by the fence. Lying in the long, rough grass, was a pistol. Devon reached out, and grabbed it. He looked back at James, and then put the gun in his hoodie pocket.

Bill stood outside the truck, tapping his feet. He was about to call out to Devon, when he appeared around the side of the house.

"Took you long enough," Bill said as he stared at Devon. "What the hell were you doin'?"

"Nothing," Devon blatantly lied. "I was just shaken, still."

"Psh. Come on, let's go back to your place. Looks like we won't be havin' any dope for the next while."

Bill jumped into the truck, and started it up. Devon walked around the side, and looked over to a house across the street. There, he saw a corpse of a woman laying on the grass in front of her house, the door wide open. She had her guts and blood all over her stomach, and splattered all across the ground. There was another man, laying on his stomach, dead, at the front of the yard. Devon shivered, and got into the truck.

Another 10 minutes passed, and the two men returned to Devon's house. When they got inside, Devon immediately turned the TV on.

"Great, news is almost over," Devon said with a sigh.

"Oh, grow up," replied Bill. "News is for fucktards who have nothing better to do."

"Well, I don't have anything better to do. If that wasn't a zombie, then we just murdered someone. I need to get my mind off it."

They sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the TV. There was a news story about a political scandal in the southern States, but neither Devin nor Bill paid attention to it. The only thing on Devon's mind was how he was almost bit by what the thought was a zombie. The scene kept racing by his head, every moment playing back slowly. He remembered James' face. It was gray and wrinkly, and his eyes were very droopy and yellow. His neck bloody, with a giant chunk missing out of it. As far as Devon was concerned, there was no other exploitation. James had been bit, and turned into a zombie.

Before Devon could notice, the news story had ended. The clock was at 5:29, and the news was almost over.

"Well, just like I thought," Bill blurted out. "Crappy politics, and shitty stories about the middle east. This shit's a waste of time." Bill got up, and walked down the hallway at the end of the living room. He took a sharp left, into the bathroom, and shut the door. 

Devon was still sitting in the living room, playing back the memory, when he heard something coming from the TV that caught his attention.

"We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news. Witnesses from downtown have reported seeing what they believe are zombies roaming the streets and attacking citizens. At the moment we are unclear what has caused these people to attack, or if we really are entering a zombie outbreak. We will keep you posted as we receive more information about these sketchy events."

Devon stared at the screen in awe. He was right, James was a zombie. He couldn't believe what he heard, but in an instant he sprang off the couch, just as Bill walked out of the bathroom.

"Ah, best piss ever," he said. "Hey, what the hell's with you?"

"I was right," Devon mumbled.

"About what?"

"Zombies, man! They were just talking about it on the news?"

"Pfttt! Bullshit, all I see is a fucking McDonald's ad. Speaking of which, I'm pretty hungry. Might go get myself a few Big Macs."

"You missed it! There was breaking news about zombies freaking attacking people downtown! James was a zombie!"

"I think you may have had a little too much weed, bro. Maybe that's why it disappeared so fast..."

"I'm not making this up, Bill. There's shit going down, and I don't want to stay in the city to wait for you to see it yourself. "

"See what? All I see is a paranoid pussy worrying about shit that isn't real."

"Whatever, don't believe me. I don't care. I know what I saw. I'm packing up my shit, and leaving the city. You are welcome to come with if you want."

"You're gonna leave, just like that? What if I stay behind, huh? You're just gonna leave; never see me again?"

"Better than being ripped open by a bunch of growling freaks."

"What, you gonna walk? Or you plannin' on stealing my truck?"

"No, I guess I'll hitchhike or something."

"Ha! Have fun jumping in a van with some fucking murderer!"

Devon ignored Bill's response and walked passed him, into the hallway. He walked to the end up the hall, and opened up the door to the right, into a messy room. He opened up a sliding door at the end of the room, and pulled out a duffel bag. He opened it up, and started throwing clothes inside, both dirty and clean. 

He filled it up about half way, and left. He went into the kitchen, and opened up a squeaky cupboard. He pulled out about a dozen cans of soups, and a few packages of Mr. Noodles. He tossed them all into the bag, and walked over to the fridge. He pulled out two large bottles of water, and put them inside the bag, as well.

Devon emerged from the kitchen, and Bill was sitting on the couch, smirking at him. He shook his head, and scoffed.

"You're being a paranoid freak, Dev," he said, still smirking.

Devon, once again, ignored Bill. He shuffled to his front door, and opened his closet. He pulled out a couple of coats, a toque, and a pair of gloves, and laid it all on the top of his duffel bag. He stuffed his feat in his old, worn out shoes, and opened the door. 

Devon walked out, leaving the door wide open, an unspoken 'Get out of my house'. Bill stared at the door for a while, before rising from the couch. He walked to the door, grabbed his coat from the front closet, threw his shoes on, and left, slamming the door behind him.

He walked over to his truck, and got inside. As he turned his truck on, he watched Devon, now several yards ahead of him, turn a corner, and disappear. He chuckled, thinking of how stupid Devon was. Seconds later, he backed out of Devon's driveway, and drove on down the road.

After several minutes, Bill decided to turn on his radio. There was a rock song playing, and he bobbed his head back and forth to the music. Suddenly, there was an abrupt stop, and a voice came over the radio.

"We are sorry to interrupt your regular programming, but we have just received an update about the recent zombie sightings. The SWAT were called in earlier this afternoon to investigate, and have recently confirmed that these are indeed zombies. They have just informed us that these zombies have rose in number, and have started migrating into residential areas. The police are trying their best to keep them off, but have set up an evacuation on Highway 11, and are advising people to take their families and loved ones into the country."

The voice continued, but Bill zoned out. Devon was right, there are zombies. He heard a loud, sound, as he snapped out of his daydream, and saw the large semi-truck coming straight at him. He slammed on his gas and looked up at the red light. He barely made it passed the semi alive. He stopped to breath for a few seconds, and made a U-turn. 

Devon was at a four-way on an almost abandoned road. He was holding his thumb out, desperately waiting for somebody to pick him up. But there were no cars around to do so. He was about to give up and keep walking, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a beat up, red pick up truck pull up. The door opened, and a familiar face stared at him.

"Get in," Bill said, and Devon did just that.

"Change your mind?" asked Devon, with a slight hint of sarcasm.

"I heard the story over the radio...the zombies, they, they...they are coming into the city. The SWAT wasn't able to keep them back, and they set up an evacuation route on Highway 11. That's where we are going."

Bill sped back onto the road, and the two sat in silence for most of the trip.

"I'm sorry, man," Bill said, breaking the silence. "You were right. But still, this...I can't believe this. We need to get somewhere in the country."

They were a few miles away from Highway 11, and the road they were on was still empty. Not a car in sight. They drove up a steep hill, and when they got to the top, Bill slammed on his breaks.

At the bottom of the hill, much to the two men's dismay, was a large hoard of zombies, blocking off the road.

CreditsEdit

DeathsEdit

  • James


Previous Chapter: N/A Next Chapter: Chapter 2


Life After Death Chapters
Act One Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

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