New Year's Eve of the Zombies

By Robert Decoteau

Eugene Holiday and Amir Goldstein are back in this sequel to Silent Night of the Living Dead the two awkward, young men are faced with finding a permanent shelter for their growing group of survivors. But not everyone's goals are the same. The two friends soon discover that zombies aren't the only dangers they face after the rising of the dead.
If you like dark humor and paralyzing zombies, you'll love the Holiday Zombie Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Decoteau
• Release date: Dec 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465744654

Robert Decoteau

I was born in 1974 in Bremerton, Washington. I moved to Bellingham, Washington at the age of four and have been here ever since. I love living in the Pacific Northwest about two months out of the year. The other ten months it rains. Constant rain gives me plenty of time to read and write. While I'm hooked on writing horror right now, I enjoy many other genres. My favorite author is Robin Hobb, who also lives in the northwest. She is the award winning Fantasy author of Assassin's Apprentice and several sequels. I have one son. I named him Chance. He is currently six going on fifteen. We are both currently enrolled in school, but I am a few grades ahead of him.

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NEW YEAR’S EVE

OF THE

ZOMBIES

BY

ROBERT DECOTEAU

A

ZOMBIE TALES

PRESS PUBLICATION

CHAPTER ONE

All of this seems so long ago to me. I can’t say what I’m trying to accomplish with these journals. Maybe the human race will bounce back someday. Maybe all that has been lost can be rebuilt the way it should have been. I’ve seen my fair share of the world since this all happened. It calls to mind the state of our house up on High Street the morning after an all night college party.

Without people, the world is a garbage pit. We strip mined, clear cut, and manufactured our way into the blatant destruction of our world. Did the zombie apocalypse happen because of all we have done? Did God, in his infinite wisdom, decide it was time to scour the world clean of the filth that the human race had become?

I never believed those old Bible stories about the parting of the red sea or Noah and his ark. Even at the age of six, back in Bible study, I questioned the miracles that our pastor expected us to accept on blind faith. As I got older, I became even more of a skeptic. Miracles, by definition, were a direct contradiction of science. I can’t say I understood the details of the modern world, but in a world of text messaging, wireless internet, and three hundred television channels, it was hard to have faith.

Then came an undeniable, worldwide miracle, the rising dead. This wasn’t some manmade virus or some biochemical attack. Somehow, the dead had begun to wake with an insatiable hunger for the flesh of the living. The fall of the human race was almost instantaneous. Billions died and came back that first day. No science that I know of could come close to explaining the phenomenon.

Is religion a factor, is this Armageddon? I don’t have the answer to that question. I do have a flickering ember of hope in my heart. If this is truly the work of God, I hope those of us struggling to survive are alive for a reason. I hope God’s plan is to allow mankind to start anew.

I awoke to the shrill whine of spinning tires. It took a moment for me to understand where I was and how I came to be there. The dim greenish glow of the overhead lights on the metro bus was a strange counterpoint to the bright blue cast of the early dawn shimmering against a blanket of fresh snow outside.

My Carmen still slumbered in the seat next to me. Her curled form slumped against the seatback under the thin sweater she had used as a blanket. I scanned the faces of the other survivors on the bus. Many were still sleeping, exhausted from the harrowing experiences of the previous day. Those who were awake wore expressions of despair or anguish, as if each was lost in their own loneliness in the midst of the others on the crowded bus.

The engine idled up again, and again the tires whined on the slick pavement, yet the bus did not move. I turned to face the front. Stevie was still behind the wheel as he had been all night. Vernon, the other mall security guard, was gripping the handrail leaning close to his friend, apparently offering advice or encouragement.

The details of our escape from the mall tried to push their way to the forefront of my consciousness, trying to offer me images of the zombies I had faced and the heads that I had split or crushed in the fight to save myself and those around me. I pushed back at the memories. It was enough to know what I had been through without focusing on the individual horrors of it. My dreams had been plagued with the creatures while I slept. I was adamant that my waking hours had enough real horrors with which to contend without my having to conjure the images of those horrors I had already experienced.

I shifted in my seat, leaning forward. Every inch of my body ached, muscles tensed and twitched in protest and my joints felt rusted in place. I rolled my shoulders and tried to stretch. I couldn’t even manage to bring my arms up above shoulder level.

Where are we? I asked.

Vern turned to look over his shoulder at me. North Garden Street, we spent the last couple hours circling around downtown, tryin’ to find the best route. There’s just too many steep hills an’ the snow is givin’ us trouble.

I sat up straighter in the seat and peered out the window. My house is only a couple of blocks from here.

I think the snow is a good thing, at least for now, Amir said. He had been slumped over on the long bench seat across from me. I had assumed he was still asleep, but I think he might have been awake before me. Perhaps he hadn’t slept at all. He certainly looked tired. Actually, he looked like I felt.

Whatchu mean, kid? Stevie asked.

Amir scratched his nose, but did his best not to move more than he needed to. Well, if those things are dead, then they probably produce little or no body heat. It stands to reason that the low temperature would affect them adversely. The other advantage is their obvious lack of equilibrium and coordination. A few inches of snow will prove to hinder their mobility, especially on steep grades, slick surfaces, and over rough terrain.

I watched Stevie frown and look up questioningly at Vern.

Vernon shook his head. He thinks they’ll slip on the ice or freeze up altogether.

Then why didn’t he just say that? Stevie mumbled.

After two more failed attempts to get the bus moving again, Vern advised Stevie to put it in neutral and set the brake. We’re gonna have to go the rest of the way on foot.

Many of the pensive passengers’ ears pricked up. No one was anxious to leave the relative safety the bus provided.

Amir finally decided to sit up. I could see he was as stiff as me. I was afraid you were going to say that.

I reached over and shook Carmen awake. She blinked at the brightness before staring at me. Her eyes began to sparkle