My Night with a Teenage Zombie!!!

By Rhea Dee

The events you are about to read are true.* So lock your doors, boys and ghouls, and experience…

My Night with a Teenage Zombie!!!

It all began on a Tuesday night, at eight o’clock. I was sixteen years old. I had stayed late to rehearse for the school production of The Tell-Tale Heart. Stan offered me a ride home but I told him I wanted to walk; it was a nice night and the moon was full so I would be able to see my way home easily.

I stepped outside Carpenter High’s double doors into the beautiful moonlight. I turned towards the sky and smiled; I knew walking home alone in the dark would be a great idea.

I took two steps down the front path when I noticed a dark figure crouched in the street up ahead. The figure was moaning quietly in discomfort and I rushed up, thinking they might need medical assistance (I got an A- in Health last semester).

“Hello? Are you alright?” I asked soothingly. I read that a calm voice helps relax the traumatized victim.

The figure turned around to face me slowly. The moonlight hit his face and I saw a pale teenage boy with eyes so blue they were almost clear. He was sitting over a dead cat.

“Oh dear,” I said sadly. His cat had been run over, and quite viscously, I might add; its entrails were strewn across the street. I realized that he was holding some of the entrails in his hand.

Oh dear, oh dear. The poor boy was in shock.

I put my hand on his shoulder and he lunged at me, teeth bared. I pulled my hand away quickly.

Maybe I should have left him alone. Oh, but I just couldn’t. Not when he held the entrails to his face like that, almost lovingly. That cat must have meant so much to him.

[nms:cat stuffed animal,1,0]

It’s not everyday you seen a teenage boy so open with his feelings.

“What’s your name?” I asked softly.

“Maaaaaaaarrrrrrrr” he replied.

“What?” I asked.

“Marrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!” he wailed. I bit my lip. How insensitive am I? I mean, his cat just died!

“Mar? Um…Marv?” I guessed.

“Marrrrrrrrruh.”

“Marv, then.” I nodded. “Marv, I’m very sorry about your cat. But there really is nothing you can do. Look, why don’t we head into town? We can talk this over some sodas and then I can pick up a box for your cat at my house,” I suggested.

Marv looked up at me, and then back down at his cat.

“Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh.”

“I’m glad you think it’s a good idea. Now let’s go.”

——-

Marv wasn’t handling the death of his cat very well. He shuffled slowly next to me, and it took us twice as long to get into town because of it. Every time I tried to put a hand on his shoulder he lunged at me. It was almost like he was trying to bite me.His cat’s death must have put him in a very…primal…mood.But a soda from Sam’s was sure to change that.

Sam’s Diner was deserted, which wasn’t too odd, considering that it was a Tuesday night. All my classmates were probably at home studying for our huge Chem test (I had already studied for it last weekend).

What was odd was that there didn’t seem to be anybody working, either.

“Hello?” I called. I leaned over the counter and peered under the opposite side, like the staff might be crouched down there, waiting to jump up and scare me (they did do that once, on my 15th birthday). No one was there.

I turned back towards Marv, who was clawing at the window.

Golly, was he traumatized. Better just get the sodas myself.

I grabbed two glasses, got us both Cokes, and then sat at a booth next to the window Marv was clawing at. Marv turned to look at me, and I smiled at him, putting a straw in each of our glasses.

[nms:vintage coca cola glasses,1,0]

He looked down at his Coke, and then slumped into the seat across from me. I pushed his glass towards him while taking a sip from my own.

Marv opened his mouth and pressed it to the top of the glass, the straw slipping up his nose. I giggled. It was good to see Marv cracking jokes instead of moaning sadly. Marv looked up at me. The straw slowly slipped out of his nose and onto the table.

“Gruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuaaaaaaaaah” he said, placing his left hand on the table.

I placed my hand over his.

“It’s going to be okay.” I said sweetly.

Marv pressed his mouth back to the top of his glass. I patted his hand gently.

Poor dear was freezing.

——-

“Wait here while I run in a get a box for…what was the name of your cat again?”"Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

“I understand, it’s very personal. Well, let me go inside and grab a box. Stay here; I don’t want my parents to wake up.”

Marv stumbled up the porch steps. I pressed a finger to my lips, and then unlocked the door, letting myself inside. I shut the door as quietly as I could, tiptoeing upstairs and past my parents room. I stepped into my room and closed the door quietly behind me.

I switched on my desk lamp and rifled under my bed for my hat box. I pulled it out, a wide circular box, decorated with pink stripes. It was my nicest box, but I was willing to give it up. I took off the lid and dumped my sunhat on my bed. I’d find another box for it later.

I switched off my desk lamp and opened my door quietly. I tiptoed back across the hall, pausing at my parent’s door to see if they were still asleep. I didn’t hear anything.

Now that was odd. My dad was a champion snorer, so it was never dead quiet in our house.

I opened the door a crack and peered inside. Their bed was empty. I flung the door open the rest of the way. Their bed was untouched. No one had slept there tonight.

My parents were always in bed by 9 o’clock sharp and it was an hour past that. Where on Earth could they be? Maybe they went out for drinks with the Mortons…

I headed back downstairs, all stealth gone, since my parents weren’t home. I decided to head into the kitchen to get a glass of water before I left with Marv to get his cat.

The light in the kitchen was on. I put the hat box on the counter and grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it from the tap.

I leaned against the sink and noticed that the tiny TV next to the toaster was on. The words ‘mute’ were etched in green on the bottom left side of the screen.

The news was on, and the newscaster looked frantic. On a Tuesday night. In this town.

Puzzled, I walked over and hit the volume button.

“–epeat, the dead walk again! The dead walk again!!!!”

I stared at the TV.

“You can identify the dead by an incapability to speak the human language,”

“What’s your name?” I asked softly.

“Maaaaaaaarrrrrrrr” he replied.

“A loss of motor skills,”

Marv opened his mouth and pressed it to the top of the glass, the straw slipping up his nose.

“Loss of body heat,”

Poor dear was freezing.

“And a desire to eat RAW FLESH!!”

He held the entrails to his face, almost lovingly.

It was almost like he was trying to bite me.

Bite me…

I dropped my glass. It didn’t shatter (plastic). I pressed the mute button on the TV and the green letters popped up again.

I glanced towards the front room. Did I lock the door? I rushed to the front door, locking it hastily. I pressed my palms against the wood, staring at the floor, breathing heavily.

Was he still out there?

I slowly peered through the peephole, my heart thumping in my chest.

Nothing.

I slowly opened the door and stepped outside.

Still, nothing. Marv was gone. I went back inside, locked the door, and slumped against the floor.

——-

An hour later, I was still on the floor, my knees drawn to my chest.You see, I just really couldn’t believe it.

That I spent a Tuesday night with a teenage zombie.

Oh, dear.

——-

Oh, dear indeed! A truly terrifying tale of undead terror! So be wary readers, because she wrote this story to warn you… it happened to her…and it can happen to YOU!**

*Not really.

**Just said, not really.

Never miss an update. Subscribe to Pink Raygun by Email or subscribe via RSS

Rhea Dee loves being a geek. She also loves female revenge flicks, campy horror, trashy novels and rock ‘n’ roll records. Rhea’s love for rock ‘n’ roll led her to be a regular contributor for the now defunct Now Wave webzine. She’s all about Edgar Wright. Important to know.

Related Stuff: