Jamie yelled for the old man again to no avail. Where the hell was the old man when he needed him?
The boy dodged a decomposing Mr. Phillips and Jamie’s sister, Gail. He jumped over Ronnie’s ex-wife Shelly, who was charred from the torching, scrambling for a bite of fresh meat. The barn door was just left swinging as Jamie ran back to the house. It did not take long for the farm to be completely overtaken by the reanimated army. What was once a devious scheme totally backfired and turned into total chaos.
By the time Jamie arrived at the shack, the trucks and tractors were toppled over, dominated by a team of dead flesh sacks. Blots of blood, soured skin, and guts crisscrossed the land, the putrid stench enough to knock anybody plum off their feet.
“Ronnie!” Jamie dashed into the house, hoping to find the old man and get the shotgun before the corpses trapped him inside. “Get your ass over here! We hafta go!” Jamie got nothing but a set of demented moans coming from a young girl. Her yellow pigtails were soaked with blood and shit. The groans came with a stream of vomit and spit, falling out of the jawless mouth hole onto the floor with a splat. Some of the spit specked Jamie’s pant leg.
Jamie checked the back bedroom, in the large chest under the bed where Ronnie kept most of the guns and ammunition, and found it completely empty. “Bitch!” Jamie screamed, peering into the bare chest of a decapitated Mrs. Umphrey. In one hand she grasped a bloody machete, the other one was knotted in a head of hair.
Mrs. Umphrey held Ronnie’s head in her gnarled fist. Just as she tossed the mangled cranium towards Jamie, he had leapt out the window, crashing to the ground with a broken arm and a shoulder splintered with glass.
Suddenly, one of the trucks in front of the house exploded, erupting torn limbs and gore. The flames spread to the house and to the grass. The remaining bodies trekked hidden amidst a wall of thick, pitch-black smoke.
With the sun turning warm orange and purple in the sky, Jamie knew he had a half hour sunlight left, at best. There was no way he was letting himself get stuck out there in the dark with dozens of lurching carcasses.
So Jamie ran for the hills. He jumped over the barbed wire fence his father set up twenty years ago; he sprinted through his mother’s old tomato garden, which had been reduced to a sad plot of pale dust and brown stalks. He had to reach town to tell the others of what he and the others had done. Jamie had to tell them everything, starting with Ronnie’s ingenious, diabolical plan.