Each of the novels in my zombie trilogy all have a sort of “gimmick”. In the first novel the protagonist, being a journalist, makes use of a digital recorder to help chronicle his transformation from human to zombie. In the second novel, My Zombie My, Bethany frequently tunes into an internet radio station called “Zombie Radio”. This short sample is one of the pieces Bethany listens to.
“I hope you enjoyed that one. I brought that out of a very personal collection; an old favorite, from the era of flannels, ripped jeans, and Seattle, Washington. Alice In Chains “Nutshell”. Kind of an apropos little tune, don’t ya think?Aren’t we all just facing the path of time now? Isn’t it just a matter of a few ticks of the clock before old Josef Mengele reaches each of us from the grave and rapes what little privacy we have remaining? That is the general consensus right? We’re all fucked? We had our hopes built up by the Angel of Life in Paris, France, only to have the Angel of Death rattle his bones from the grave over our collective souls. What do you think callers? Should we all roll over and take it like good lovers, or should we fight back? Let me hear your beautiful words my lovelies. Caller…speak!”
“Hey Zombie Jesus, thanks for taking my call.”
“It’s all about you, my friend. What you got?”
“I live in a small town in Texas. Population’s about two, maybe three hundred. We tried like hell to fight off the zombies, but eventually they got through what little defense we had. It started with young Davie McRay. He was walking home, after pick up some dinner for his mom and sister, when one of them grabbed him and made a snack out of his head. After Davie, the attacks happened more frequently. I guess the noise started drawing them to us. All the screaming and crying. Well, the town has lost all but five of it’s citizens. We fought as long and as hard as we could, but the zombies got the best of us. So…so, the rest of us all decided we’d rather take our own lives than have one of those things either make us their own or dinner.”
“Caller…what’s going on?”
“We all drank poison about ten minutes ago. I imagine it won’t be too much longer before we’re all gone. We thought It’d be fitting to have our last words played across the airwaves so everyone would know what happened. We also wanted everyone to know there’s no shame in taking your life in these situations. Better go this way than to wind up a buffet for the undead.”
Silence.
“We do have a request though.”
“Ummm…yeah, you got it. What can I do?”
“It’s gonna seem horribly cliché, but could you play Ring of Fire by Mr. Johnny Cash? We just wanted our last thoughts on this good Earth to be filled with the sounds of the greatest country singer to ever live, singing a song that could carry us to our maker.”
“For you, Happy Texas, I’d play damn near anything. If Mr. Cash is what you want, Mr. Cash is what you get.
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