Zombie Train To Hell!

            “Hmmm…” The old man said as he leaned over the fat man lying on the ground. “It’s so hard to tell, so much skin, but I don’t think there’s a pulse.”

            As I look down at this man, the first death I’ve witnessed, I notice a small dark bump on his arm. 

            “What’s that?  On his arm, that bump?”

            The old man was leaning over the man’s nose, his hearing aid to it.  He leaned up, peeked at where my finger was pointing.

            “Hmmm…That just looks like a vaccination.  Damned flu going around, probably on accounta you youngin’s no goodness.”

            I’m still staring at the bump when out of the corner of my eye I notice a small quick movement.  I look toward it, and then I see that the fat man’s foot is moving.  I can feel the relief rush over me as I believe the man to still be living. 

            “Hey, I think he’s…”

            But before the last word leaves my mouth, the fat man has lurched forward in a crunch I wouldn’t have thought possible from his flab and grabbed onto the old doctor’s ear with his mouth.  As he pulls away and the old man falls back screaming in pain, I can see the fresh blood coming from his lost ear, and the ear itself in the mouth of the obese man. 
            We all watch as he chews on the ear bit, and then he begins to flail, moderately rolling at first, until he grabs a hold of a seat nearby and begins to get to his feet.  The eyes we see when he turns around, they’re not like a normal person’s.  They have lost all of their pigment, and the small grey iris shot back and forth as it seemed to be trying to look around.  He sniffed at the air and seemed to catch scent of the blood again as he wobbled towards the old man and finally fell upon him and began chewing and ripping at his chest.

            Blood was everywhere, but surprisingly none of us were moving, not even the old man’s wife who was blissfully ignorant as the soothing sounds of her harlequin romance filtered through her headphones and  lulled her into meditation with the clinking needles of her knitting project.  This fat man, my once fellow passenger was eating another man’s stomach.  Without even realizing I had done it, the word left my mouth.


End Act I



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