The Dead Thing

H staggered out from behind the bar. His sickly green skin contrasted with his milky white eyes. Dumb hunger drove him forward, once humanoid but now just an undead creature, a ghoul, a zombie. Tom hopped on his motorcycle and struggled to start his bicycle. By the time he noticed the hungry thing it was too late.

The ghoul had yanked Tom off his motorcycle. Teeth ripped through the fleshy throat. Tom let out a terrible gurgling sound as blood sprayed all over his attacker's face. Blood stained the thing's teeth as it chewed human meat. The thing recoiled as it tasted the alcohol in the blood.

it threw the biker over the motorcycle and the metal fell over on him, crushing the biker's skull. The zombie vomited its guts onto asphault. The coppery taste of blood the thing was used to but all that whiskey mixed in did not sit right. A flashback from when the creature was alive broke through. He remembered his father coming home and reeking of the stuff.

It spit before returning to it's dumb and hungry form: the zombie. The creature heard a guttural growl. ''Turn around, you son of a bitch!'' the voice said.

The zombie turned around and saw Tom's best friend, a brother clad in leather by the same biker gang- known as the Salty Dogs. The biker was a bearded man named Whitey Brown. He aimed the shotgun at the thing and blew a hole in it's chest. It went flying back and hit the ground with a thud.

Whitey watched in horror as the zombie sat up. It staggered to its feet and Whitey aimed the thing at the creature's head and blew the thing's head clean off.

He went inside and told the owner of the bar, Mickey Finnegan to come outside. Mickey came out and was stunned. ''Jesus Christ,'' Mickey said. ''You're a Goddamn killer.''

''That fucking thing wasn't human,'' Whitey said. ''It was already dead when I killed it. And look, it killed Tom.''

He looked over the bloody scene before him and shook his head. ''I heard the dead hasd been raising from the dead and munching on the living. But I figured it was some Max headroom situation,'' Mickey said. ''Some joker hacked some televison station and was pranking us all. I'm going to close down the bar.''

''I'll wait for you out here,'' Whitey said.

Mickey hurried inside. Whitey heard a whimpering sound. A woman's voice. ''Help me, mister. Please.''

He saw a young woman, not much older than nineteen or twenty limp into frame. ''What's wrong, Missy?'' Whitey said.

He looked down and noticed she was bleeding through her jacket. ''Take your jacket off and I'll make a turniquette,'' Whitey said.

She did as instructed and Whitey moved quickly, despite his heft. ''what happened?'' Whitey asked.

''I was embalming Mrs. Jefferson when she sat up and attacked me,'' the woman said.

''We got to get you to a hospital,'' Whitey said.

The two hopped onto the motorcycle and the metal rocketed toward the hospital. Out of the bar came Mickey. He fumbled for the keys and Tom sat up. He meandered toward an oblivious bar owner. Tom dragged one foot and edged closer and closer. Tom turned around to see Tom leering at him, fangs bared.

The monster seized Mickey by the shoulders and pinned him to the door. He kept bashing Tom into the door until it eventually gave way. Mickey was pinned underneath Tom. He sank his teeth into Mickey's throat and tore through bone and meat until his hunger was satiated, temporarily.

Mickey's eyes stared into the void and Tom shuffled off, looking for his next meal.