Hunger in the Zombie Apocalypse

I’ve decided to make this a tribute post to Pope Richard Corey who writes a brilliant ongoing zombie story blog which is humourous survival horror with plenty of witty and intelligent word play. I hope you will support him by visiting his site, 'Serial of the Dead'.

I’m still reading his stories, but I’ve been inspired to write a short zombie story dedicated to him:


‘Dad, I’m hungry.’ moaned his daughter Sally. They were all in fact starving, they hadn’t eaten for days, and the need to nourish their bodies had manifested like an angry debt collector who now demanded payment for the time abided by the body’s ability to endure a fast.

There were four of them; a nuclear family unit that consisted of parents Jake and Louise, and their young offspring, Sarah and Tommy. Stranded and held captive in the basement of their own home by a zombie uprising that had taken over the country in a matter of weeks.

The eight year old, Sally was too weak to cry but not adverse to complaining. ‘I’m hungry dad…’ she repeated. Jake was unresponsively lying on the floor staring at the ceiling.

‘She’s right Jake.’ Said Louise as she slowly shuffled over to comfort her daughter with a blanket wrapped around her shivering body. ‘We’re all hungry… how can we carry on like this?… it’s just too painful to endure.’

‘Fuck…’ spat Jake.

‘Jake, please…’ scolded Louise.

Jake knew he had to do something. He was ashamed; guilty that he was unable to care for his family. He had prided himself a couple of weeks ago for managing to prepare in anticipation of the invasion after watching the earliest news reportage about the carnage in the big cities. Now, he lay there, scared shitless, not for himself but for his family. He would rather die honourably than let his family die.

With a tremendous effort he managed to raise himself off the icy concrete floor. ‘Daddy’s not going to be gone long kids… Daddy’s just going to the store to pick up some items.’ He hugged his kids, they were limp and dazed. He kissed Louise, who forced a worried smile with dry cracked lips; she knew that if he did not succeed then they would all die anyway, but she hated the idea that he might suffer an unbearably horrific death.

‘Be careful, Jake.’ she said, knowing that her words did nothing for his safety, yet it was comforting to her that she spoke them.

Jake proceeded to the cellar door. He unbolted three of the locks and took a deep breath before he unbolted the final fourth. The door creaked cautiously open. He quickly scanned the area, and he could immediately feel the adrenaline rush that demanded energy that he couldn’t afford to waste; for a moment, he felt his vision waver and then it returned with an enforced clarity.

The room he entered was the kitchen. He didn’t bother to search it because he knew that there was no food; he had moved all the supplies into the basement. He closed the cellar door behind him, and he heard Louise lock it from the other side. Looking through the smashed kitchen window, he could see about fifteen zombies wandering around aimlessly in the garden; they tended to do that. He heard movement in another part of the house. 'Think, think, THINK!!!' he said to himself, he panicked and ran like a headless chicken through the kitchen door that swung loosely on a single hinge.

Louise was worried; Jake had been gone for almost two hours now. Suddenly, knocking could be heard at the door. The door had been banging relentlessly over the past few weeks, but this was not a zombie smashing it’s head against it, it was an intelligent knock; it was an urgent knock, the kind of knock that unabashedly said, ‘Quick, quick, let me in… oh my god, quick, oh my god, I’m gonna die if you don’t fucking hurry up!’ She knew it was him, and ran to the door with renewed morale.

Jake was standing with his back against the door, his eyes were flitting wildly like a hunted animal, ‘Quick! Help me drag this in…’ he urged as soon as he felt the door open.

‘Jesus Christ Jake, I’m not bringing that into the basement!’ she defied.

‘I haven’t got time to argue with you, the shop was closed, they don’t open on Sundays! Just do what I say!’

They dragged the decapitated corpse of a ragged zombie through the door and quickly bolted it. ‘Dinners up kids!’ shouted Jake as he wiped sweat from his brow.

For about fifteen minutes, the sound of a chainsaw chewing through flesh, tendons and bone could be heard from the utilities room in the basement. After much stubborn protest, Jake had managed to get Louise to preheat the electric oven that they had helped migrate from upstairs. While Jake was sawing up the zombie, his wife was trying to convince him that it wasn’t right to eat dead people. ‘It’s not fucking dead people,’ he retorted, ‘this thing stopped being a person when it became a zombie,’ he wiped a splatter of blood from his lips, ‘and now, I’m going to perform the magical act of turning this into good wholesome food.’

The zombie flesh could be smelt sizzling in it’s own fats for the next hour and a half. Jake had decided to cook it on slow heat so that it would retain it’s flavour and the skin would be crispy. ‘Just like cooking pork.’ he casually told his wife.

A slice of the thigh area, a few fingers and a thumb were placed on a platter. Jake made a gravy from the oil that he used to baste the flesh. The kids stared dumbly at the steaming zombie parts on the dinner table. Jake picked up a thumb, the way he had sliced it, made it look like a chicken drumstick, he held it before Sally who stared wide eyed at it. ‘It’s a thumb!’ she said in shock before she started screaming hysterically.

‘No Sally, it’s food, you’ve got to eat this to stay alive, it’s just like chicken, you like chicken right? Please honey, daddy doesn’t ask much from you, just eat it please!’ he pleaded.

She screamed again while shaking her head with her hands over her ears and her eyes clenched shut, ‘I don’t want to eat dead people, I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to…’

‘Jake, you can’t force her to eat…’ reasoned Louise.

‘Be quiet Louise!’ snapped Jake, ‘She’s gonna eat this good food that daddy made whether she likes it or not!’ He took a bite of the thumb, ‘Mmmmm, so yummy!’ then grabbed her wrist and thrust the zombie’s thumb into her hand. ‘Now, eat it Sally!’

The six year old, Tommy was frozen in shock. He was staring at the fingers on the platter. Sally screamed again and threw the thumb across the room. Jake smashed his fist furiously onto the table. ‘I want burgers daddy, I don’t like eating dead people!’ said Tommy. Jake paused at the comment, and suddenly began laughing loudly.

An hour later, the family were sitting at the table eating burgers. They didn’t have any buns, but they had plenty of gravy. Jake had cut a huge slice of the zombie’s rump, minced the flesh and fried the patties that he had moulded with some left over ingredients.