Attack Of the Christian Fundamentalist Zombies - Page 3

I felt the pressure of someone's hand on my shoulder but it was too cold to be someone's hand. I turned to see the young man from the kitchen. I screamed. I had the phone in my hand was about to smash him in the face with it when my older daughter lunged and took him to the ground. I grabbed my younger daughter, pulled her to me, and reached down to yank my older daughter back up. The young man had a hold on her, yelling that she would be the sacrifice for his religion, his God, and my sins. I felt the fear drain from me. The rage she had felt now filled me. I yelled out, "I don't care about your goddamned religion!" That was the wrong thing to say. The chanting murmur of the people in the house became a profound and overwhelming hum, not unlike the sound of many electrical lines powering up. I kicked him in the head repeatedly until he let her go.

I looked up to see the house had filled with strange, horrifying people. Both the front door and back door were blocked. Like a blow to the head, it hit me: my son. He was still asleep. As if taking part in a 6-legged race, the girls and I clung tightly to each other and made our way down the hall through the crowd of people who didn't seem to take any notice of us except to say "You must repent. Ours is the only God." I pulled my son from his bed and told him we had to go, that it was an emergency. He pried his eyes open and looked at me the way he does when he isn't really awake. He tried to get back in bed. My older daughter jerked on him and pulled him through the door and we all headed down the hall toward the front door. The kids huddled in the hall. We could go no further for all the people. I looked down at my hand and wished I'd had a gun. Suddenly, I did. I shot every person in our way. My older daughter screamed and I turned to see my younger daughter being drug away by one of the people. I followed with my two oldest right behind me. We went room to room; they blocked each door while I looked for my youngest and shot anyone in my path. Finally we found her. I shot the man, and the older two pulled her to them.

Article Author: Diana Hartman

Diana Hartman is a (ret.) USMC spouse, mother of three in college and a Wichita, Kansas native. She is a contributing writer to Holiday Writes and can be found on Twitter.

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