The Zombie Who Had a Name by James Aquilone

Author:James Aquilone [Aquilone, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Homunculus House
Published: 2015-09-17T23:00:00+00:00

She Will Be Home for Christmas

My family has a Christmas tradition: Every year, they kill my mom. It's right up there with decorating the tree and exchanging gifts. Last year, my big brother Seth killed her by jamming a carving knife – the one we were going to use for the ham – into her right eye. The goopy sound it made entering her head still gives me the chills.

I'm carrying a wrapped gift down the stairs when Seth says, "Fran, why haven't you ever killed Mom on Christmas? Are you squeamish?"

I've killed plenty of the undead since they began rising from their graves. Sometimes you just have to do it. But a lot of the time I feel sorry for them. I mean, they're mostly harmless, unless you let them get too close and they bite you.

"Leave your sister alone," my dad says as he wraps garland around the tree. "She's only fourteen; she doesn't have to kill anyone on Christmas."

Dad still tries to keep the traditions like Christmas going. He says if we don't we'll fall into savagery. It's perfectly okay to kill Mom, but if we don't sing carols we're savages? He's such a hypocrite.

"I shouldn't have to kill anyone either," Seth says, "but that's what we have to do in the zombie fucking apocalypse, right? She should toughen up."

They're not really zombies, though. More like solid ghosts. A zombie you can kill. Ghosts keep coming back, no matter what you do to them. Plus, it's not much of an apocalypse. We still have power and supermarkets and stuff. You just have to be careful now; like, you need to carry a weapon when you're outside and you don't want to be caught in the woods or around a cemetery at night.

"Maybe we shouldn't kill her," I say. "Maybe we should let her enjoy the holiday like the rest of us. Ever think about that? Ever wonder why she keeps coming back on Christmas?" I place the gift beside the tree, away from the other boxes, so I can grab it quickly. I won't have much time. I found it just lying against a tree on my way home from school. As soon as I saw it – so shiny – I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it.

"Easy for you to say," Seth says. "She doesn't try to eat you. God, I hate Christmas." God, I hate my brother. He downs the rest of his rum-spiked eggnog.

He's right, though. Mom never tries to eat me. I was always her favorite.

Mama died the first time ten years ago on Christmas. She tripped over one of Seth's gifts – I think it was a skateboard – and cracked her head on the edge of the glass coffee table. A year later, she returned. So did a bunch of other ghost-zombies. No one knows why really. Some think it's a virus; others say it's a punishment from God or a sign of the End Times. I don’t care.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.