10 Days: Undead Uprising
10 Days:
Undead Uprising
Jon Athan
Copyright © 2015 Jon Athan
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For more information on this book or the author, please visit www.jon-athan.com. General inquiries are welcome.
Twitter: @Jonny_Athan
The Days
Day 1 - December 23rd, 2015
The Genesis
Day 2 - December 24th, 2015
Surely Innocent
Day 3 - December 25th, 2015
Happy Holidays
Day 4 - December 26th, 2015
Crime and Justice
Day 5 - December 27th, 2015
Searching For A Cure
Day 6 - December 28th, 2015
Treacherous Trent
Day 7 - December 29th, 2015
Survival By Any Means
Day 8 - December 30th, 2015
As Long As It Moves...
Day 9 - December 31st, 2015
Code: Dead
Day 10 - January 1st, 2016
The Aftermath
Day 1 - December 23 rd, 2015
The Genesis
The shaky cellar doors swung with the brutish gale. The harshly pouring rain streamed down the soggy wooden stairs, cascading off the last step onto the basement's damp concrete floor. The rickety stairs howled with each heavy and ponderous step as Wesley Price descended into the dreary basement. Wesley deviously smirked as he tightly gripped the large, dense black bag over his right shoulder and staggered down the stairs.
As his muddy black dress shoes splashed in a puddle of cloudy rainwater, Wesley turned his head towards the bag and said, “You're a little heavier than I remember, princess. I should have known better considering the circumstances, though. Please, don't take it to heart. I don't mean any offense by it, I swear. You are perfect the way you are.”
A sonorous bolt of blinding lightning illuminated Wesley's timorous silhouette. Wesley stood six-two with a slim physique. He had dull brown eyes and a clean-shaved face with a sullen expression. Strands of his damp black hair dangled towards his finely-trimmed eyebrows. He had the sleeves of his white long-sleeve collared shirt rolled up to his elbows. His silk black tie was casually loosened around his collar. His black pleated trousers were soaked and begrimed.
Wesley grunted as he heaved the weighty, human-sized black bag towards the center of the murky basement. He lugged the bag, then tossed it on a hardwood table – the table groaned and wobbled upon impact. As he caught his breath, Wesley pulled on the beaded lamp cord directly above the table. The bumpy cord swung from side-to-side as it dangled. The fluorescent bulb immediately illuminated the dingy basement. The gloomy shadows swiftly darted towards the dimmest corners, evading the vibrant illumination.
Wesley nervously chuckled as he rubbed the moist nape of his neck, then said, “Sorry about the mess. I was in quite the hurry considering the urgency. I didn't really have the time to clean it up the way you liked it. This blasted storm wasn't helping, either. I was sure you wouldn't mind considering the... the state of affairs, as some would say. I'll clean it up later, you have my word.”
With narrowed eyes, Wesley glanced towards every corner of the room. The basement had gray brick walls and concrete flooring. The pouring rain coursed into the basement from the open cellar doors, careening every which way as it freely flowed. A sturdy hardwood desk hugged the wall to the right. To the left, there were metal cabinets upon cabinets stuffed to the brim with rustling sheets of paper and crumpled manila folders. A stainless steel rolling table sat next to the cabinets. The entire room was drenched in melancholy, the sorrowful shadows danced in the darkest corners – mockingly evading the bulb's radiance. Wesley shook his head as he returned his attention to the matter at hand.
He gazed intently at the bag as he gently whispered, “I can have you back, princess. I told you, I'd never leave your side, I'd never let anything keep us apart. No one, nothing, can separate us. You are... you are my muse. You are the reason for all of this. You are the reason for my work... for my genius! I missed you so very much. I love you, princess.”
Wesley sniffled as he slowly unzipped the black bag. The rippling rustle sound echoed through the basement as the noise bounced from wall-to-wall. Wesley's eyes swelled with tears as he stared at the deceased woman in the bag – Bettie Price.
Wesley whimpered as he stuttered, “I–I love you, Bettie, I loved you so much. I–I co–couldn't live without you... I won't live without you. I refuse that possibility. It's out of the question, you understand? It's not an option, it never was.”
Bettie Price, a slab of nude and frigid meat, rested on the sturdy table. Bettie stood five-three with a voluptuous figure. She had wide hips and a plump bosom. She had short brown hair down to her shoulders. Her lustrous hazelnut eyes could pierce through the gloomiest abyss – an inexplicable cure for the dreariest misery.
Wesley leaned towards the table as he helplessly sobbed. He puckered his lips and pecked Bettie's pale mouth and jaw. He gently caressed her brown hair with his left hand and ran his right hand down the rough and gelid skin of her right arm. He rubbed his fingertips on her long, protruding fingernails. His hand instinctively caromed towards her stomach, gliding across her icy skin and towards her pelvis. Abruptly, Wesley stopped himself.
Wesley lifted his head and gazed into Bettie's face as he said, “Sorry... I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me, princess. It's just been some time since we've been intimate. I know, I know, this can wait. I know it can.”
Wesley stood straight as his eyelids flickered and his body shuddered. He loosened his slick tie as he swiped at his damp brow. Roaring rivers of sweat ticklishly streamed down his cheeks and neck, dripping down towards his lean torso. As he finally recomposed himself, he loudly swallowed the lump of anxiety in his throat, like swallowing a can of tuna – burying his uncontrollable excitement with the loud gulp.
As he gazed at Bettie's lifeless countenance, Wesley smiled and explained, “I continued my work, princess. I knew it would come in handy at some point. I knew it. I've... I've finally mastered the experiment, my sweetheart. I know it has caused a lot of neglect and frustration between us, and I'm sorry about that. I'm truly apologetic and I hope you'll forgive me. But, now... now, you are my first test-subject. You are the one to benefit from my genius. You, my darling muse, will be the benchmark for years to come. Shall we begin?”
***
Wesley leaned beneath the table and retrieved a pair of thick yellow gloves. The gloves snapped as they slapped the bare skin of his moist hands and wrists – a snug fit. With a devious smile plastered across his damp face, Wesley hurried towards the cabinets, then rolled the small metallic table towards Bettie's body. The table had several scalpels, syringes, scissors, probes, and a bone cutter on top – an armory of fatally constructive tools. Wesley stopped his frantic preparations as he stared at Bettie's sealed eyes.
Wesley smirked, then reassured, “Don't worry, princess, you'll be fine. You won't feel a thing, before or after. You'll be back in no time and everything will be back to normal. I promise.” Wesley chuckled, then said, “How about we celebrate with some red wine after the experiment? Of course, of course. It'll be a wonderful reunion. We'll light some of those scented candles you adore and have a romantic night. I can't wait.”
Wesley retrieved a syringe from the rolling table, then moseyed towards the hardwood desk to his right. He turned the protruding knob on the lamp a
nd illuminated the tabletop. A peculiar plant in a brown ceramic pot sat on top of the desk.
The stiff green stem erected upwards in unwavering solidarity. The stem was covered by brown fuzz and barbed spikes. Two stiff dark green leaves protruded from the right, one leaf extended towards the left. The firm leaves had been invaded by the mahogany-colored fur. The flower on top had white pedals with more brown fuzz. The center of the flower was dark green. Wesley gazed into the center as it inexplicably swirled, like sludge.
Wesley loudly sniffled, then murmured, “It has to work. I've gambled everything for this. I've risked my entire life for this. It absolutely has to work, it must bring her back.”
Wesley carefully inserted the syringe into the flower with the utmost meticulousness. He gripped the syringe with both hands as he pierced into the bizarre dark green and fuzzy plant. Slowly, he pulled on the plunger and extracted a dark green fluid. He grinned from ear-to-ear as his bottled excitement erupted. Wesley turned away from the table and swung the syringe into the dismal darkness. The dark green fluid swirled and glowed within the glass barrel.
As he gazed at the fluid's majestic movements with keen eyes, Wesley whispered, “It's certainly ready.” He glanced towards Bettie and asked, “Are you?”
With a smirk plastered on his conniving face, Wesley confidently strutted towards the table with the glowing syringe in-hand. He quickly inspected every nook and cranny on Bettie's sultry body – an ocular and deviant examination of the deceased.
Wesley nodded as he explained, “You are certainly ready, princess. I know that for a fact. I will not fail you. I only wish I could have done this sooner, but the plant simply wasn't ready. It needed to flourish, princess. I needed this vital fluid to glow with life. It's ready now, though, it's more than ready. It will change the world as we know it, but, more importantly, it will finally reunite us. It will bring us together like never before.”
Wesley carefully placed the syringe on the metallic rolling table. He retrieved a honed scalpel, then leaned towards Bettie's head. He gently ran the sharp scalpel down her jaw, then stopped at her jugular. He narrowed his eyes as he diligently pierced into the vein. A mere droplet of blood dribbled out of the wound.
As he glanced towards Bettie's sealed eyes, Wesley reassured, “It's okay, it's okay. Everything will be fine. You don't need gallons of blood. It'll settle itself later, I know it. Everything is fine, princess, I promise.”
Wesley loudly swallowed as he returned the bloody scalpel to the rolling table. He carefully retrieved the syringe, then moved closer to the scalpel-inflicted laceration. Slowly and steadily, Wesley inserted the syringe into the fresh wound.
As he pushed the plunger down, Wesley said, “This won't hurt a bit, I promise...”
The vibrant fluid slowly oozed into Bettie's jugular. A droplet seeped out, trickling down towards the nape of her neck. Wesley removed the syringe, then dabbed the wound with a white cloth. His eyes widened as the thick vein miraculously pulsated.
“Already?” Wesley asked as he gazed at the wound, then towards Bettie's face. He shut his eyes, then rationalized, “No, no. It needs more time, it needs to settle. It's all in my head, it's the anxiety. That's all. I'm too excited.”
Wesley stepped once in reverse, then placed the syringe on the metallic table. He inhaled deeply from his nose as he watched Bettie with narrowed eyes. To his utter disappointment, there was not a single shudder or quaver throughout her entire body. He counted the passing seconds in his uncertain mind, anxiously awaiting for the return.
Brimming with doubt, Wesley's bottom lip quivered as he said, “You–you have to come back, princess. It's... it's the holidays, after all. I have a special gift for you, I swear. It's more than just the gift of life. I–I–I purchased those heels you always wanted... It was going to be a surprise. Wake up and you can open your present. You don't have to wait until Christmas. Please...”
Suddenly, a tear streamed down Wesley's cheek, caroming off his well-defined cheekbones and dripping onto the damp floor beneath his mucky shoes. He leaned towards Bettie's face, then forcefully opened her eyelids. Her protruding eyes were dim and shallow. Her dull eyes were deprived of life, like staring into a bleak and endless chasm of nothingness.
Wesley swallowed loudly, then asked, “What's wrong with you? Why aren't you waking up, princess? It was more than enough to revive you, wasn't it?” He gently slapped her cheek, then asked as his voice cracked, “Wha–What's wrong with you? Why are you... Why are you doing this to me? Are my gifts not good enough for you? Is that it?”
He lifted his head and covered his face with his trembling hands. He wildly sobbed into his palms as his legs wobbled from the overwhelming disappointment and sadness. The lurking shadows surrounded him, seizing the somber moment from every angle.
As he tilted his head towards the ceiling, Wesley roared, “Why?!”
***
Wesley violently tugged at his damp hair as he bellowed. Strands of hair were caught between his clenched fists. His puffy, zany eyes bulged from his skull. His protruding ears and face were scarlet from the boiling anger – the uncontrollable rage swelling within. He sobbed as he stared down at Bettie's lifeless body.
Through his gritted teeth, Wesley said, “I did everything correctly. There wasn't a single flaw in my experiments. There wasn't a single error in my genius. It's not even a possibility. I swear, princess, the formula was perfect. The fluid was ready. This... this should have worked! You should have returned! You should be smiling and opening your presents by now!”
Wesley exploded into a temper tantrum as his fury erupted. He carelessly tossed the flimsy rolling table aside. The rolling table hurtled towards the desk to the far right. The desk wobbled and the plant was knocked over upon impact. The plant's vital liquid oozed from the penetrated flower. As Wesley indistinctly roared and yammered, the green liquid of life streamed across the table, then cascaded off onto the concrete floor. The fluid merged with the streaming rainfall.
Wesley's body shuddered and his eyelids flickered as he shouted, “I did everything correctly! I am a genius, I swear! I have no peers in this field, only me! No one can match what I have achieved! Why aren't you waking up? What is the damn problem, you stubborn woman?”
In his fit of rage, Wesley turned towards the basement stairs. An earsplitting bolt of lightning ripped through Wesley's vicious onslaught, momentarily interrupting the seething tirade. Wesley approached the stairs, then jabbed at the neighboring brick wall with all of his might using his right hand. The bone-crunching thud echoed over the thunderous storm. Wesley groaned as he hopped and staggered with his right hand clenched towards his stomach. He bawled from the insufferable pain.
As tears streamed down his cheeks, Wesley helplessly muttered, “Damn it... Damn it... Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this?”
Suddenly, a ghoulish groan reverberated from behind. Wesley stopped in place as a blend of excitement and horror struck his body. As the ghastly moaning continued, Wesley slowly turned towards the table. To his utter surprise, Bettie miraculously sat up.
“You–You're awake?” Wesley stuttered as he slowly approached his distrait wife. “Are you... Are you really awake, princess? Have you... Have you finally returned to me? Did it really work? Has my genius been proven?”
Bettie absently stared forward as she sat with an unwavering posture. She inattentively gazed at the opposite wall, hypnotized by the gray bricks. Her eyes were wide open and her mouth dangled as she groaned and moaned. As Wesley entered her field of vision, Bettie glanced at him with her dead, dull eyes. Her eyes were completely whitened. Wesley's body trembled, his hands shook, and his bottom lip quivered as he gaped at Bettie.
As he placed his palms on Bettie's frigid cheeks, Wesley exclaimed, “It's... it's a miracle! My princess, my muse, you've returned! You've returned from the dead!” Wesley pointed at the creaky stairs and said, “When they said I couldn't, I said I would! I excelled beyond everyone's exp
ectations, including yours. It's all to your benefit, princess. You're back! We'll work out the kinks later, but... but you're back!”
Wesley puckered his lips, then planted a sloppy kiss on Bettie's mouth. He licked her plump lips and slobbered over her, like a starved dog salivating over a freshly-cooked steak. He relished in his success, savoring the passion of the moment. Suddenly, his eyes widened as Bettie gripped his bottom lip with her teeth.
Wesley stared into her cold eyes as he rapidly stuttered, “Wh–Wh–What are you doing? Wha–What are...”
Without a single crease on her stern face, Bettie bit down harder, then viciously yanked her head away from Wesley. Wesley shrieked as his bottom lip was torn off. Blood spurted from the savage wound as he covered his mouth with his trembling hands. Dark and gooey blood gushed from the slits between his fingers, like lava oozing from a volcano. Wesley helplessly staggered away as Bettie slowly stood from the table.
Wesley cried, “Why... why are you doing this, princess? What's wrong? Why... why are you acting this way? I saved you... I saved you!”
Wesley lurched forward, barely keeping his balance as he approached the metal cabinets. Bettie shambled behind, her bare feet splashed on the pools and streams of rainfall. Wesley hopelessly searched through a manila folder atop the cabinet, whisking sheets of paper beneath others. Bettie tightly gripped his shoulders from behind, then chomped into his neck.
Wesley cried as Bettie tore a chunk of flesh from his neck. The blood spurted like a garden sprinkler, painting the wall and floor red. Wesley grunted and coughed as he gargled his own blood and staggered to the floor. The manila folder swayed through the air until it landed beside him. Wesley absently gazed at the ceiling as his vision diminished and his head swayed.
As his frantic breathing and palpitating heart slowed, Wesley could only hear Bettie's plodding footsteps and her squishy gnawing as she chomped on the piece of flesh and trudged away. The powerful storm diminished as the haunting sounds dominated the room. Wesley swayed his head towards the cellar stairs and watched with flickering eyelids.