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- Signature Author
- 07/26/2016
- 747 Words
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Promptings from Valhalla - 7. Prompt 516 - The Zombie
Prompt 516 – Creative
Tag – List of Words
Use the following in a story – a zombie, a lab coat, a green car, a rusty bicycle, and a baby.
The lone occupant of the pale green Volvo exhaled sharply as her dark blue fingernails drummed impatiently on the steering wheel. She turned off the traffic report, scowling. It wasn’t telling her anything that she couldn’t see during the brief second the wipers cleared the windshield of the driving rain. Traffic hadn’t moved in ten minutes. Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark interior of the car, followed almost immediately by a loud clap of thunder, causing the driver to flinch.
She hoped her new boss would understand her tardiness; her old one would not have. The storm intensified, making her wonder if pairs of animals would start to seek refuge in the stationary vehicles. A few minutes later, the rage of the storm relented, allowing the windshield wipers to do their job and allow the annoyed drivers to actually see their surroundings. Traffic finally started to creep forward at a slow crawl. Fifteen minutes later, the green car pulled into the first available parking space in the small parking lot, and the frazzled operator said a quick prayer of relief to have arrived safely.
Enough rain continued to fall to make the short walk across the hospital’s parking lot unpleasant. The woman hiked her white lab coat over her head, hoping the blue hair dye she had used only a few days before didn’t decide to bleed all over it. She didn’t have a spare with her. Even though the distance from her car to the building wasn’t great, the increased pace in an attempt to stay dry was enough to cause an asthma attack. Once she rounded the corner of the hospital and reached a small overhang, she stopped, hands on her knees, inhaling great gulps of air.
Slight movement drew her attention to the right. A rusty bike that had clearly seen better days lay on the ground as if discarded without care. A man huddled next to it, clutching a small bundle, shivering violently. Concerned, the woman fished out her inhaler, taking two puffs before slowly approaching the stranger. Her wheezing gradually reduced as the medicine took effect. She stopped before the bent figure.
“Can I help you?” she asked, then almost vomited as the breeze picked up, bringing a scent reminiscent of rotting fish that had been sprayed by a skunk. Her eyes widened as the man turned toward her. His black hair was matted with dried blood, and underneath tattered designer clothes looked to be a body that was once quite well cared for. She turned, poised to flee, hoping that her lungs would allow her enough oxygen to make it to the hospital entrance before the creature attacked.
“Wait! Please don’t leave! I won’t hurt you!” The man’s eyes were surprisingly life-like for one of the undead. The hole in his throat made him difficult to understand.
She hesitated, medical training kicking in despite her better judgment. “Do you want help? Most zombies don’t want to be cured.” She desperately wished she hadn’t left her bottle of Pepsi at home. It was very effective as a zombie repellant.
The man stood, causing the woman to take a step backward. “I’m beyond help. But please…help him.” He held out the bundle he cradled.
The woman gasped when the bundle squirmed and two bright blue eyes looked at her trustingly.
“He’s my son. I can’t take care of him any longer. I’m afraid I’ll—“ he stopped, a red tear falling down his pale green cheek. “I’m having more and more trouble controlling the cravings. He needs a new home.”
The woman nodded and reached out for the cooing baby. The zombie kissed his head before letting him go. “I’ll miss you so much, sweetheart, but you’ll be safer without me.”
She held him close to her chest, as the baby squirmed and started to fuss. “What’s his name?”
“Andrew,” the zombie’s voice was a soft hiss. He righted the rusty bicycle and mounted it before pedaling unsteadily away.
She stared after him for a moment before taking in the slight greenish tint to the baby’s skin. Even brief exposure to the zombie virus could be enough to spark the change, especially in one so young. She hurried into the hospital, hoping it wasn’t too late to cure little Andrew.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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