Butcher by J.S. Douglas

It’s short story day once again! This one is based on my friend and newsletter subscriber, Tami’s prompt. It is: “Not what it seems.”

I’ll do a little explaining after the very short story because there’s a bit of a twist. The story is supposed to be “not what it seems.”

Butcher

by J.S. Douglas

Kathy sat heavily on the cushy couch, causing the pillows to huff and then sink to a comfortable level. She leaned forward, rubbing her arms and watching as the dried blood flaked off and drifted to the carpet.

She let the midnight quiet seep into her, dwindling adrenalin twitching her muscles and slowing her heart. Everything seemed silent.

Maybe he wasn’t one of them.

The idea both gave her hope and filled her throat with guilt. If he wasn’t one of them, then everything she did up there was unnecessary and cruel.

Mattress springs groaned above her head, breaking the night’s silence. She looked at the ceiling, her brows knitting together as something thumped on the floor.

“He’s dead,” she whispered, trying and failing to reassure herself. “Even if he was one of them, he’s dead now. He has to be.”

A step sounded, creaking floorboards and shaking the ceiling fan. Then another step.

Kathy looked at the boarded-up windows and door. The nails bit into the wood frames. If she could, she would have screwed the boards into the studs. But there just hadn’t been time.

The moan sounded, and her heart dropped. Earlier that day, the sound of that echoing moan had ended their boarding-up efforts, causing them both to hunker down. Jeff had insisted on doing one final check to make sure they were really coming. That’s when he had been bitten by an early arrival.

This time, the moan was different.

This time, the moan sounded outside and from within the house.

Kathy heaved off the couch, wobbling on exhausted legs. She didn’t know if this would ever end. It had been only a day and a half of a night, but she thought about the interminable life that stretched before her, one without Jeff.

Turn off, brain, turn off, she told herself. She made her way through the dark house, the one she knew like the back of her hand, walking to the kitchen. It was the only room with an unbarred door. Peaking through a crack in the boarded window, she saw shadows pacing below the porch. They’d originally rushed the rickety steps and fallen through the rotted wood. Jeff had laughed and elbowed Kathy lightly.

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t fix ‘em?” he’d asked.

Strange steps sounded above.

Step, slide, step, slide. Then, a series of thumps and rhythmic shuffling.

Kathy squinted but could see nothing in the dark. She grabbed a butcher knife and a skewer from the magnetic knife board positioned by the oven.

Something rolled into the kitchen. In the faint light bleeding through the cracks, she could see what had made the moaning sound upstairs. It was Jeff’s head. Eyes open and locked on hers, jaws snapping.

Behind the head stumbled the headless corpse. Arms outstretched, feet shuffling, trying to find his head. Trying to kick it at Kathy. Still trying to bite her.

Kathy ran toward her husband, armed with her kitchen implements. She went to work hoping this time; he’d truly die.

End

Hopefully, that was a “not what it seems” kind of story. I love zombies and zombie stories. They are both terrifying and patently ridiculous. Still, I love them. So, that was my little zombie vignette!

Have a great day, and look out for tomorrow’s post! I’ll be sharing my short story release!