January twenty third 2013, ten thirty five A.M. The funeral for my father Robert Miller was in session. My name is Scott Miller. I’m thirty seven years of age. To my left sat my mother Christina, and behind us were ten of our family members. Directly in front of me was Father Clarke reading his prayers while standing at his podium, and behind him was the open casket containing my father. As Father Clarke began to read from his book I leaned my face into my hands to hold back the tears.
“Today we say farewell to a great man, he was a loving husband and father. Yes his final days might not have been the b…” he grew silent.
“Robert?” stuttered my mother.
I looked up to see her trembling. When I turned towards Father Clarke I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was my father, sitting upright in his coffin
“Holy shit!” uttered my Uncle Jim.
My mother stood up slowly “Robert?”
I grabbed her wrist trying to hold her back, but she pulled away and ran towards him. As she got closer she reached out in tears.
“Robert honey, you’re alive.”
He let out a horrifying moan as he leaned out to her, tipping the coffin over and knocking them both to the ground.
“Mom!” I yelled out as Father Clarke and I ran to her aid.
She let out an ear piercing scream as he began to bite her neck. We grabbed and pulled him away from her. As we wrestled with him my uncle Jim and his wife Carole pulled my mother away. He was too strong, he pushed away Father Clarke then tackled me down. He was on top of me moaning and what seemed like growling. He grabbed my shoulders and tried pulling himself down to bite me, so I braced my forearm in front of his neck to hold him back. Father Clarke ran to grab a metal crucifix that was displayed on the front of his podium. He swung it with all of his force across my father’s head, bashing it open. His body fell next to me. I took a moment to wipe his blood from my face, while I just watched him lay there. I was numb, unable to process what had just happened.
“I had no choice…he was…going to hurt another person, please, forgive me lord” said Father Clarke as he stared at the crucifix in his hands.
I could see how guilty he felt, but my first concern was my mother. I jumped up and ran over to where she laid.
Uncle Jim had my mother’s blood all over his hands and clothes as he sat weeping over her body.
“She, she’s dead.” He said softly.
“NO! NO! What just happened!? How the hell did my father, who I found dead over three days ago get up and do all this!?’ I yelled.
“We need to call for help, the main office is just down the hall, there should be a phone there. I will go and check.” Said Father Clarke.
“No. Let me go, I can’t be here with her like this.” I said while I stared down at my mother’s body.
As I stood up and began to calm down, I looked around the room and could see the emotions on everyone’s face who had just witnessed the event. At the door leading to the hallway stood my cousin Jenny with her two kids, Johnny, eight, and Grace, twelve. The kids screamed and cried as I walked past, but nothing could take my mind off of my father’s face, his eyes seemed empty without emotion. He was not the man I knew. I had to focus on getting help; I proceeded down the hall towards the door labeled “Main Office”. As I reached out for the door knob I heard screams coming from the viewing room, I turned and ran back to check on everybody. As I turned into the doorway I saw my mother, who we all thought was dead, stumbling towards everybody as they backed away from her.
“I thought she was dead!?” Carole yelled.
“You saw it, I checked her pulse, she was dead! She lost way too much blood to even be standing right now!” Jim yelled back.
Just as she got closer to everyone I watched as Father Clarke, bash the same crucifix he used to kill my father right in to my mother’s skull. Some people screamed and some just fell to their knees as they watched her fall to the ground.
“What the hell is going on here!?” Carole asked.
Father Clarke dropped the crucifix to the ground and bowed his head “I don’t know, but I will not stay here to find out.” He looked up at all of us, “we need to get out of here, I think we witnessed enough death for one day.”
Before we could make a decision we heard gun shots coming from in outside of the building. We all ran down the hall to the main entrance and peaked out the window next to the door. Out front in the parking lot were more of those things like my mother and father, staggering around aimlessly as if they were intoxicated. As we watched these things shamble around, soldiers wearing gas masks were putting bullets into all of their heads.
“Oh my god! Yes, there’s help, they can get us out of here!” yelled jenny.
She ran to the door and opened it. “Help! Please help! We have kids in here!”
I watched as two of the soldiers stopped and looked up at her. They shouldered their guns as they headed toward the door.
“We are not like them!” Jim yelled as the soldiers aimed their weapons at us.
Next thing I knew they shot Johnny and Grace first, but before any of us could make a move they shot all of us just as quickly. I woke up moments later with blood pouring down my face from the wound in my head, I saw soldiers walking around checking the funeral home. I tried to yell for help, but could not even speak. One of the soldiers saw my eyes open, he paused and looked in to my eyes. Without saying a word he aimed his gun and pulled the trigger.
© Copyright 2016 bil0700. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Horror
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