Halloween Rain by Christopher Golden & Nancy Holder

Author:Christopher Golden & Nancy Holder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

CHAPTER 6

When zombies rose, they scrabbled like rats as they clawed their way out of their graves. You’d almost think they were suffocating below the earth and needed the fresh air, the way they struggled.

At least, that was one Slayer’s opinion as she sat on top of the locked wrought-iron entrance gates of the Sunnydale Cemetery. Gray hands coated with slime and crawling with earthworms shot out of the ground and searched for something, anything, to grab on to—a bush, a headstone, another zombie—to pull the rest of the zombie out.

Make that most of the rest of the zombie.

Sometimes things were left behind in the effort, like an arm or a leg or a face. But that didn’t seem to matter as they got free of the grave and started doing their zombie thing.

Of all the forces of evil Buffy had to fight, zombies were probably the grossest. No way was she delighted to go in there and mess with them.

But when zombies rose, they were hungry.

For human brains.

They would do just about anything for a bite or two.

The walking dead smelled dinner, and its name was Buffy.

They must have smelled the rest of Sunnydale, too, because about a dozen of them had clumped into a mosh pit at the stone wall, and they were pushing to get the heck out of the cemetery and cruise for munchies. The wall so far had not given way. But farther down, a second bunch was pushing on another section. Several small stones had chipped out of the cement grout and clattered to the sidewalk on the other side.

Beneath her perch atop the gates, fifteen or twenty shambling corpses, in different stages of decay, surged against the iron bars. The chain that held the gates closed screeched, as did the iron hinges. It wouldn’t be long before one or the other gave way and the zombies would be out on the streets of Sunnydale.

Buffy tried not to look at them. The dead faces, some just bare skulls with tufts of skin and hair here and there, gaped up at her. There was a moaning coming from the dead that gave her a major wiggins, a shiver all through her. It was like putting her ear to a seashell, only much worse. She couldn’t tell if it was their voices, or just the wind whistling through their exposed bones and skulls. That sound was worse than Cordelia’s whining, and even more likely to drive her crazy.

“Okay, you guys have killer harmonies. En Vogue are sweating right now,” she muttered. “But could you please shut up!”

The zombies didn’t respond at all, just continued to moan and stare. Some of them were staring without eyes, and Buffy so did not want to know what they were seeing.

She glanced out over the cemetery as more zombies clawed out of their graves. There were an awful lot of them. Sunnydale seemed like such a small town, but this was one major zombie square dance. If one fell, the others walked right over it.

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