I Dream of Zombies

Copyright
© Vickie Johnstone, April - October 2013

Published by Vickie Johnstone, October 2013

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of bi
nding or cover other than that in which it is published.

Cover images used in montage:

Woman with gun
: iStockphoto/inhauscreative

The hand
: iStockphoto/Maltaguy1

I would like to say a big thank you to my beta readers, A
listair Campbell, Stewart Bint and Penny BroJacquie for taking the time to read a draft of this book. I’d like to thank them for their feedback and comments, and constructive criticism where it was needed.

This is the first horror book I have written. It is dedicated to my dad and all those zombie lovers out there. Thanks to my dad’s addiction to things that go bump in the night, I was watching Hammer House of Horror and scary films from the age of 12, and devoured whatever was out by Stephen King as a teenager. But of all the monsters and scary things out there, the things that made me tremble most were the zombies... even the ones that couldn’t motor very fast. And between you and me, I still can’t play a certain zombie game without flinching, jumping and making the odd squeak.

3 Heads & a Tail

The Sea Inside
(Cerulean Songs, book 1)

I Dream of Zombies (book 1)

Haven (I Dream of Zombies, book 2)

The Kiwi Series

Kiwi in Cat City (book 1)

Kiwi and the Missing Magic (book 2)

Kiwi and the Living Nightmare (book 3)

Kiwi and the Serpent of the Isle (book 4)

Kiwi in the Realm of Ra (book 5)

Kiwi’s Christmas Tail (book 6)

Smarts & Dewdrop Mysteries

Day of the Living Pizza (book 1)

– ebook free in US/UK

Day of the Pesky Shadow (book 2)

Poetry

Kaleidoscope

Life’s Rhythms

Travelling Light

– ebook free in US/UK

Others

The Gage Project
charitable children’s anthology, published by Inknbeans Press

Blog:
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I Dream of Zombies

A sickening sense of dread ravages him as fear drifts over the surface of his skin like fingers, icy cold and unrelenting. He turns again and sprints towards the exit, his pace becoming increasingly slower as if something is pushing him back. Yet still he finds himself in the exact same position, his feet rooted to the spot, his arms sweeping, useless.

His hair blows
in the breath that the creature now turns on him, sickening in its putrid scent of death and putrefaction. There is not a word he can think of to describe this thing in front of him. Fear creeps, regardless. Twisting, crawling, the maggots swarm across its bloodied face as it opens its mouth wider. Something tears.

The yawn seems to swallow
him whole into this darkness of despair as a jagged, ripping pain overwhelms him; the sharp teeth chafing, gnawing at his neck, seeking to pierce the jugular vein within. From far off in the distance comes the ripple of laughter.

Opening the front door of her flat, Marla strode into the hallway and hung her denim jacket on the nearest hook. Her bag found its usual resting place on the wooden chair beneath the clock.
6.30 p.m.
Kicking off her black Doctor Martens boots, she wandered wearily towards the kitchen in her socks and switched on the kettle. Reaching inside the cupboard for her favourite mug with a dragonfly on the side, Marla prepared a refreshing cup of milky tea, which she had been looking forward to for the previous hour’s journey. Afterwards she drifted into the lounge to slump down on the dark purple sofa, digging her toes into the fluffy white carpet in front of it.

Leaning back, Marla placed the mug of tea on the
pine side table and took a deep breath. This was her calm zone, which she looked forward to at the end of each and every day. Without leaving her spot, she stretched out her fingers for the remote and turned on the television. Settling back, she flicked through the channels until she reached the news to find out what was going on in the world. The usual business flashed before Marla’s weary eyes until something made her laugh and sit forward in disbelief. ‘I dream of zombies’ was the inane headline that stretched across the bottom of the screen.

The female newsreader rais
ed her eyebrows and was clearly trying hard not to giggle. Marla clamped her right hand across her mouth and watched as the scene switched to an interviewer, speaking to an ordinary looking man with dark hair and a moustache. It looked as if he was standing outside his house, which appeared to be just as ordinary as its owner.

“I’ve had the same dream now for three weeks,” the man said, creasing his brow. “It’s always the same. I was told to
warn everyone that they are already here and will not stop until the human race is erased.”

The interviewer cough
ed. “Can you be more specific, Dr Charles Enderson?”

The man bit his lip. “I mean t
hose who seem alive, but are actually dead. They are coming. The signs are that they are already here. This is a warning. We are meant to listen.”

“Who is this
warning from?”

“I don’t know who they are, but they know us. T
hey said the warning will come in dreams – nightmares so real that I wake up shaking and sweating. I know it all sounds like the ramblings of a crazy man, but I’m not. I’m perfectly sane.”

The newsreader turned to the camera. “This is R
oger Howard reporting from Wimbledon in West London. Thank you, Dr Enderson. Some viewers may know that Dr Enderson won the Nobel Prize in Physiology many years past. He retired about a decade ago. You may also have read his comments in several newspapers and on various blogs and Twitter, so we decided to get the news from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. We will now return to Janet in the studio.”

“My God,” gasped Marla, shaking her head. “Why are they even giving him TV time?”

“Right,” said Janet, with a gigantic smirk on her face. “Let’s get back to the real news this evening. A woman was attacked in Hyde Park in the early hours of the morning. She was jogging alone when a man assaulted her. A passerby who was walking his dog chased off the attacker, who is described as being aged in his thirties, about six foot two and dark haired. He was wearing a grey-coloured suit, which was ripped at the trousers, and he had visible cuts across his face. The woman was released from hospital after being treated for shock and bites.”

“He bit her?” gasped Marla, leaning forward, unable to believe her ears.
What a psycho!

“This is a police photo
-fit of the man they are looking for. The public have been advised not to approach him, but to dial the emergency services right away. In other news, the skies are expected to shower like a natural firework display. Stargazers were thrilled last night by the sight of the Perseids meteor shower, with up to sixty shooting stars during just one hour. Astronomers are predicting a repeat performance tonight of this annual phenomenon, which doesn’t usually occur until sometime between mid-July and late August. It seems we are lucky this year. Now for the weather with Fenella…”

Ma
rla switched off the television, leaned back and closed her eyes.

The mobile phone buzzed impatiently in her jacket pocket and Marla retrieved it as she hopped off the bus in Leytonstone High Street. It was her sister, which made her smile.

“Ellen, hi, how’s it going?” she said warmly.

“Hey! Everything’s okay. How are you?” Ellen answered.

“Can’t complain... w
ork is as crazy as usual, you know.”

“Do you
ever regret your decision?”

“Leaving the army?” asked Marla, as she turned a corner. “Not really. Sometimes, but, hey, I
prefer not having someone telling me what to do!”

Ellen laughed on the other end of the line. “Ha, I can’t imagine you taking orders from anyone, Marl.”

“Well, I miss some bits. The guns and being so fit, plus all of those good-looking dudes!”

“Marla, y
ou’re never gonna change! Talking of fit dudes, how is Peter?”

Marla bit her lip as
she crossed the street. “Okay, I guess.”

“You guess
?”

“Well… anyway, enough about me, how are you, little sis?”

“I was thinking of coming for a visit.”

Marla grinned.
“Cool, when?”

“This weekend,
” Ellen replied.

“That’s soon. You’re welcome, of course, but is something up?”
Marla asked as she reached the entrance to her building. Rummaging in her bag with her left hand for the key, she found it and turned the lock. Pushing open the heavy door, she balanced the phone against her ear and left the door to slam. There was a pause on the other end of the line and Marla imagined her sister twisting her hair as she had always done when she was nervous ever since they were kids. She headed up the stairs to the second floor. “Come on, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

“Well, you’re
either gonna laugh or call me crazy!” replied Ellen in a low voice. “I’m already thinking it.”

“Come on,
sis, I’d never call you crazy. Anyway, to catch up with the stupid things I’ve done in my life, you’d have to have done something massive, so out with it,” Marla insisted as she unlocked the door of her flat and walked inside. The familiarity of the place calmed her immediately.
Home equals sanctuary.

“Can I just tell you at the weekend?”

Marla flicked off her DMs and slid her jacket off her shoulders. “Nope.”

“You’re hard.”

“You know!”

Ellen sighed. “Right, well don’t laugh at me, but I’ve been having these weird dreams…”

“Yeah, so..?”

“Like every night,”
she continued. “For about two weeks now and it’s always the same thing. And they’re scary. I’m waking up in a cold sweat with my heart racing.”

“Maybe you’re stressed about something. I
have this dream book and I read that how you deal with the bad stuff in a nightmare is the important thing, so if you’re being chased by someone you are meant to confront them and fight back. All this symbolises stresses – you know, the things you’re worried about,” Marla replied, slumping down on the sofa and picking up the TV remote.

“Well, maybe, but I’ve never had a recurring dream before and when I wake up it’s like I haven’t slept, and I’m getting scared to go to sleep now…”

“It’s just a dream.”

“I know, but it seems so real.”

“We can talk about it at the weekend,” Marla suggested, changing the subject to something more pleasant. “What day do you want to come?”

“How about Friday? Is that cool with you?”

“Perfect. I’m not working that day, so it’s great for me. I can’t wait to see you. It’s been ages…”

“Only a few weeks,” Ellen corrected her.

“Well, it seems like ages since I last saw my baby sister.”

“Hey, less of th
e baby! I’m a grown woman and going to be twenty four soon!”

Marla laughed. “Ha, like you’re soooooo old! Wait til you’re
thirty and your limbs start creaking!”

“Stop!” cried Ellen, giggling.
“As if you’re ever going to be decrepit!”