The Zombies Next Door

By Amarinda Jones

“You killed him!” The blonde stepped back from the women with the axe, her eyes were wide open with horror at what she was witnessing.
“Almost.” The brunette held a long handle axe in her right hand as she lifted her left arm and wiped the sweat off her brow onto the fabric covering her left forearm. This humidity is a bitch.
“He’s bleeding!”
Like I need hysterics now. But that was her sister for you. Always worried about mere details. “Yes, now get out of my way.” Her sister scrambled backwards, sliding on the blood covering the floor. “I have to whack him again.” She lifted the axe high and smashed it down into the man’s head. Blood spurted, bones cracked and the sickening squelch of bursting brain filled the air. Her arms ached like the devil but whining was not going to help get the job done. She lifted up the axe and smacked it down once more. Blood and gore flew everywhere. She was pleased she was wearing her usual gothic black. It was businesslike and rarely showed bloody stains if washed correctly.
“Fuck!” her sister screamed and rammed her back against a nearby wall as if it was somehow going to anchor her to reality. “Stop it! He’s dead, for God sakes!”
“Nah, his head has to come off and I have to split his heart open.” The axe came down once more. “And there is no God. These bastards roaming the streets prove that.”
“I don’t know who you are anymore!”
She turned to her sister. “Hey, I never asked you to come and visit in Cairns.” Whack!
“Mum thought it’d be nice if we bonded—Oh jeez! The head’s come off! I’m going to puke.”
“So, go and vomit outside.” She aimed the axe at the chest cavity. At that moment the grotesquely bloodied and hacked man looked up at her, his severed head no longer attached to his body.
“Bloody hell! His eyes opened! How is that even possible?” the blonde shrieked.
The brunette rolled her eyes. “Stop screaming! I don’t have time for hysterics.” She had a job to do. Normally there was never an audience around when she did it. Explaining things to people wasted time and frankly was a pain in the ass because they never understood and always kept asking ‘why?’
Whack! Whack! Whack! The final blow cleaved his heart in two. His eyes closed and blood spurted out like a fountain from his chest. Her sister projectile vomited onto her shoes. “Damn it! I just cleaned those!” It was hard to work when civilians were about. They always whined, questioned and threw up.
“You already have blood on them!” Her sister was shaking and wiping her mouth.
“Blood I can hose off. Vomit requires more effort.” She wasn’t sure why. Possibly it’s an enzyme, acid thing. I should look that up. She mentally put it on her list of things to do after clean shoes and sharpen axe.
“Who are you?”
She dropped the axe head on the floor and leaned against the long, wooden shaft and grinned. “Jack Katz, licensed zombie killer.”
“Does mum know about this?” Nancy Katz’s eyes were wide with horror.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scarlet Harlot Publishing
• Release date: Jan 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311437495

Amarinda Jones

Amarinda Jones believes anything is possible and sometimes just asking for the impossible will surprise someone enough that they will give it to you. Writing is like that. Put it out there and wait for a response. There is always the possibility you may fall on your arse, but after all, that's what cellulite is for. Amarinda believes in taking chances, speaking her mind and aging disgracefully. Twenty years from now she plans on being the neighborhood witch that all the kids are scared of. But then, everyone has to have a hobby.

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Published by Amarinda Jones at Smashwords

www.amarindajones.com

Copyright© 2014 Amarinda Jones

Cover Artist: Amarinda Jones

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Zombies Next Door

Amarinda Jones

Chapter One

You killed him! The blonde stepped back from the women with the axe, her eyes were wide open with horror at what she was witnessing.

Almost. The brunette held a long handle axe in her right hand as she lifted her left arm and wiped the sweat off her brow onto the fabric covering her left forearm. This humidity is a bitch.

He’s bleeding!

Like I need hysterics now. But that was her sister for you. Always worried about mere details. Yes, now get out of my way. Her sister scrambled backwards, sliding on the blood covering the floor. I have to whack him again. She lifted the axe high and smashed it down into the man’s head. Blood spurted, bones cracked and the sickening squelch of bursting brain filled the air. Her arms ached like the devil but whining was not going to help get the job done. She lifted up the axe and smacked it down once more. Blood and gore flew everywhere. She was pleased she was wearing her usual gothic black. It was businesslike and rarely showed bloody stains if washed correctly.

Fuck! her sister screamed and rammed her back against a nearby wall as if it was somehow going to anchor her to reality. Stop it! He’s dead, for God sakes!

Nah, his head has to come off and I have to split his heart open. The axe came down once more. And there is no God. These bastards roaming the streets prove that.

I don’t know who you are anymore!

She turned to her sister. Hey, I never asked you to come and visit in Cairns. Whack!

Mum thought it’d be nice if we bonded—Oh jeez! The head’s come off! I’m going to puke.

So, go and vomit outside. She aimed the axe at the chest cavity. At that moment the grotesquely bloodied and hacked man looked up at her, his severed head no longer attached to his body.

Bloody hell! His eyes opened! How is that even possible? the blonde shrieked.

The brunette rolled her eyes. Stop screaming! I don’t have time for hysterics. She had a job to do. Normally there was never an audience around when she did it. Explaining things to people wasted time and frankly was a pain in the ass because they never understood and always kept asking ‘why?’

Whack! Whack! Whack! The final blow cleaved his heart in two. His eyes closed and blood spurted out like a fountain from his chest. Her sister projectile vomited onto her shoes. Damn it! I just cleaned those! It was hard to work when civilians were about. They always whined, questioned and threw up.

You already have blood on them! Her sister was shaking and wiping her mouth.

Blood I can hose off. Vomit requires more effort. She wasn’t sure why. Possibly it’s an enzyme, acid thing. I should look that up. She mentally put it on her list of things to do after clean shoes and sharpen axe.

"Who are you?"

She dropped the axe head on the floor and leaned against the long, wooden shaft and grinned. Jack Katz, licensed zombie killer.

Does mum know about this? Nancy Katz’s eyes were wide with horror.

It’s bad enough having you vomiting everywhere without mum going into hysterics. That she couldn’t deal with.

Jackie, how can you—aren’t you—

What, Nance? Lordy, I’m tired. Despite all the boxing at the gym and the weights she lifted, Jack still found her upper body lacked the physical strength she needed to do this job without the muscular pain. A vision of Bear Beaumont came to mind. Tall, muscular and a blond man mountain. He was the best person she knew to train with. He knew nothing about the zombie hunting and she was content to have it stay that way. Their relationship was fitness and sex. She sighed. Yeah, well, in hindsight it probably wasn’t a good idea to lust after the trainer. Sex messed everything up. Training had become more personal than it was meant to be. It had to do with seeing each other naked. Nudity was a bitch. And orgasms? Don’t even go there. Jack sighed. Another problem to solve. Find a new trainer or talk about ‘commitment’ and the ‘future’ with Bear. Frig, I barely know what I’m doing tomorrow, let alone the future. Dicks. Lovely to look at. Wonderful to play with. Dangerous in the aftermath because they always wanted more.

Jack surveyed her pale faced sister. Her neat, expensive clothes were covered in blood and vomit. And her face? Ghostly pale and filled with accusation. Bloody amateurs.

You killed him!

No, Jack lifted one, bloodstained finger and wiggled it back and forward. "I killed it. A flesh eating, rip your guts out and wear your entrails as a hat zombie."

Nancy’s eyes widened in horror. They do that?

If you’re slow on your feet.

Fuck! This was followed by more vomiting from her sister.

Oh jeez, I was hoping for this to be an early night. Jack dropped the axe. Her arm muscles screamed in pain.

Where are you going?

To get the garden hose. It didn’t happen often but occasionally a zombie came to her home and she had to kill it. She had a garden hose in her bathroom, ready to be hooked up to a faucet for times like this. A broom with a wide brush and she could spray and then push the bloody water through to the bathroom grate. Thankfully the entire apartment was tiled. It took a while for clean up but it was better than getting down on your knees and scrubbing with rags and a bucket. Blood is a bitch to clean once it’s dry. She looked down at her sister’s vomit on her shoes. What did you eat? Broccoli?

Yeah, it’s good for you. Not every ones lives on coffee and toast like you do.

Jack rolled her eyes. You’re such a mummy’s girl.

And you’re a murderer!

No, I’m a professional zombie killer. There’s a difference.

How so?

I have license in my wallet that says I can kill any zombie I need to.

Nancy got unsteadily to her feet. What do your neighbors think?

About what? Global warming? Man’s inhumanity to man? The price of eggs? Jack enjoyed being a smart ass. She knew it annoyed her prissy sister. I still have no idea how we’re related. It was no surprise to Jack why her father – well the last man she technically called ‘father’ because she has no idea who her real father was— abandoned the family when she was six. Smart man. Her mother, Cheryl Lee, was a head