Tag Archives: horror

Ketchup With Us #4 – Who’s Laughing Now?!

In 57 WORDS OR LESS, retell the plot line of your favorite horror movie. And, if you can find one, be sure to include a movie clip of your own. Ketchup With Us

Ms Mel and ODNT are at it again with Ketchup #4. Get in on it!

After racking my brains out over all of the (ridiculous) horror movies I have been watching, it came to me, why overthink it? Get back to basics, the movies that got you INTO horror. Freddie, Jason, Michael, even the Toxic Avenger are all legit. To me though, the icon of cheesy horror is Bruce Campbell, better known as Ash in the Evil Dead series.

And so I decided to go with the cult favorite: Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn.
__________
Sam Raimi’s horror classic, starring Bruce Campbell’s chin, comes complete with a 1973 Oldsmobile, tape recitation of the Necronomicon which unleashes evil, possessed hands & chainsaws (never a good mix), sight gags (A Farewell to Arms), and a cellar dwelling monster who provides an eye- popping scene. The climactic ending proves you can’t escape fate. Groovy.
__________

Oh a trailer was requested. I found one for the Evil Dead (remake). Rarely do I endorse that idea.

Rarely am I actually terrified by a trailer. Part of me wants to see this in theaters. Another part wants to hide now.

Seriously, the trailer is crazy. Click at your own risk! Enjoy!

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Filed under Horror, Humor, Ketchup With Us, Movies, Writing, Writing Challenges

Trifextra 35 / Zombie Bunnies – A Cold Burning

On to the weekend challenge. This week we’re again asking you to stand on the shoulders of another writer. But this time that other writer is you. Take one of your former Trifecta or Trifextra 33 word entries and build upon it with another 33 words. If you are new to the challenge you can use a Trifextra entry from one of the other community members, with their permission of course.

The first part, with the prompt, is here: The Setting Sun (Will open in new window). This is Allen’s POV at that same moment.

___________

Isolation shadowed Allen’s departure. His sister, a hostage. His girlfriend, a plot line. His sidekick, too conflicted in loyalties. The clearest relationships were with his enemies. Allen was going to make them closer.

___________

Interested in the Zombie Bunnies story? Keep reading!

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Filed under Creative Writing, Horror, Sci-fi, The Zombie Bunnies, Trifextra, Trifextra Writing Challenge, Writing Challenges, Zombie Bunnies

Trifecta 36/ Zombie Bunnies – The Reckoning Pt. 2

The Word of the Week is: NORMAL
3: a form or state regarded as the norm : standard


Will things get that way in the Zombie Bunnies world? Well everyone is doing their part – whether it helps or hinders…well, we’ll find out soon enough.

The Reckoning is still at hand, now we’ll see what Emma has been up to. When we last left her, she’s was at the lab/tv show, working on something...


Emma leaned back and considered the bunny in the cage on the lab table. It couldn’t consider her back; the walls of the small box were tinted on the inside, so that it couldn’t see out, or even its own reflection. Still the bloodshot eyes unnerved her, the constantly twitching mouth, as though waiting for release, or feeding.

She worked as hard as the others to figure out how to counter the zombie-ism. Would it be a cure to bring bunnyism back to normal, an antidote to prevent other bunnies (and other species) from infection? Or would it be a poison targeted towards bunnies, zombiefied or not, to wipe them out completely? Whatever brings the best results, I guess.

‘The result’ depended mainly on the person and their motives & motivation. Emma’s name had not yet been called; she knew that it was only a matter of time. And when it was, she knew her peers (some she knew, others had been flown in under one pretense or another) were working for themselves; there would be no support, advice or well wishes. She would never let another see her research. Emma thought back to what Dr. Hodgkins did to Dr. Siria when he caught her going through his files after a tryst.

A timer went off. Well, here goes… something. She stood and walked to a refrigerator which contained a row of prepared test tubes, and samples of ‘pure’ rabbit meat. From the tubes, she chose ‘Solution C-1’, and took a sample as well. Using slender tongs, she dipped the meat into the tube, then carried it to the cage and opened a small latch at the top. The zombunny began to shift and scratch at the slippery walls, knowing the meal was coming, and snatched the morsel from the tongs. It rolled and tore at the meat, devouring it in seconds. Now we wait.

We. Emma watched closely, knowing another set of eyes was deciding if it was her time as well.

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Filed under Creative Writing, Horror, The Zombie Bunnies, Trifecta Writing Challenge, Writing, Writing Challenges, Zombie Bunnies

Trifecta 35/ Zombie Bunnies 15 – The Reckoning, Pt. 1

Ok, this challenge is a doozy. A monster even. Or, a…well you know.

The word limit was raised to 3,333 – if you dared.

The rules/assigned words? None, write what you please – if you double dared. I took the physical challenge.

There was no doubt I wanted to make this epic Zombie Bunny entry. I even thought that I could finish the story in one more big shot. Early drafts got me in that direction, but I figured I could develop the story even deeper with (some) more words. Ok, many.

Make yourself comfy, because at approx. 3,191 words (6 pages), this installment is probably longer than all of the others combined. It may take a while, so if you read it all (even over a couple of days), you’ve flattered me immensely with your dedication.

This is a time when feedback is even more important/appreciated, so hopefully you will enjoy it and let me know what you think.

The story is reaching its climax. A reckoning is at hand. Each character is going to experience a pivotal moment when it all goes down. Let’s start with Allen, who, when we last left him, unceremoniously touched down in hostile bunny territory. It’s now six weeks later…

ALLEN.

Allen woke to an incessant beeping in his ears. Though he had spent half the night expecting it, the sound still managed to catch him off- guard. He absently reached to his right trying to smack an alarm clock. However, the sound was coming from his earbud, which was supposed to be turned off. His searching hand wound up giving a slap/caress to a cheek that was becoming more familiar. Allen turned to the shape beside him.

Carly moaned lightly awakened by his smackdown, but as she turned to look at him, a placid affection was her only expression. “No, don’t look at me, if that camera is on,” she mumbled in mock complaint. “The country doesn’t need to see me first thing. Just you.”

“Camera’s over there, lil’ peep. But yeah, gotta gear up in five.” He got up from the bed, groaning slightly, and staggered to his pack. He pulled off the sheet that covered the camera, just in case Connar decided he wanted to film some after-hours footage for the premium subscribers. As it were at that moment, if the camera had been on, Allen would have been giving viewers a full salute.

Clothes that were comparatively clean were pulled on, and Connar’s voice came through the earbud right on cue.  “Ok Allen, enough rest. Let the lovely girl sleep a while longer.” Allen actually hated the fact that Connar knew about the relationship, more than viewers knowing.  To a man like that, knowledge was power, or worse a bargaining chip.

Allen gave one last look to Carly, the blanket molding her curves as he brought back to mind what was underneath that thin material. He headed to the next room which was small, windowless and sparsely furnished to serve as a private office for him. A laptop sat on the metal desk, the screen flickering on as it booted up automatically. A video camera and lighting setup stood behind the desk facing him; again, as he sat in the green cushioned chair, the equipment lit up and whirred into activity, though it was not recording. Yet.

Connar’s voice now came through the computer’s speakers. “So…how are things, Allen?”

“Not bad.” He hated the small talk. He hated even just having to talk. It was all part of the show.

“Good. Your current stats and standing are displaying now. Congratulations on the 300 kill mark! Of course, none of the others are even close, but there is that one fellow on the fringe who is making a buzz.” Allen sighed. Give people anything that could be remotely competitive, and someone will care a little too much about being the best at it.

Skipping the information in front of him, Allen clicked to the message boards icon. 354 unread messages, all since the previous evening. Marriage proposals, proposals for more short- term interactions (some including Carly), ‘reporters’ from unofficial fan pages, and the usual hate mail. He didn’t need to read them all; most subject lines were a variant of: “Dump Carly and Marry meee!”, “Kill a bunny 4 me!” “10 Questions from the ‘Team Allen’ fanclub!”, “UR sister is hot!” and the ever- scholarly “FUCK YOU, MUDERER!!1” He’d pick a dozen or so at random and answer them live during the morning broadcast. Fan interaction was part of the gimmick. Evening spots were reserved for personal thoughts, opinions and any other bullshit he could think up on the fly.

“We’re live in 60 seconds, assignment uploaded right after.” Connar made it clear that though Allen was there to frag Zombunnies, the overlying priority was to exploit the ratings potential. Allen was at his mercy, since Connar had a dedicated EM satellite trained on Delta Springs that only gave him the information on the bunnies, people and any incidents worth investigating. Intel was given piecemeal and records were deleted automatically after viewing. To his credit, the first assignments played on action (in other words, shock and awe to viewers of constant bunny carnage), so no attention was paid to any kind of plot or caring about what Allen was going through as his exploits played out over the airwaves. Connar somehow found ways to keep him in harm’s way.

Allen knew Richard Connar didn’t trust his reasons for volunteering to drop into a city filled with vicious undead creatures, and hang out with a fringe group that practiced worship of those very animals through rapidly expiring confections and ‘pelts of honor’ just for the warm fuzzy feeling (pun intended).  The pursuit of fortune and fame was a good sell, but not completely convincing, considering Allen didn’t ham it up too much. It was just a matter of moving that one chess piece, to show one card, or other cliché that would give his true purposes away. Preparing for that secondary mission was just as important for him, so he would play good soldier and try not to get himself killed. He was treading carefully, literally and figuratively. Each day, do the show, go out and find bunnies, come across other sects, return home, go to service, and recap the day. The last part was a tricky situation; as some of the bunnymen were watching the show.

It was another issue entirely of how the group was being brought into the plan, and being portrayed to the public. Initially they had been a secretive group, but with the lure of any audience that was watching, the Bunnymen were inevitably becoming more open with their ceremonies. Some members were skeptical of the attention, and when speaking with other groups scattered around Delta Springs, Allen began to hear rumors about something called “Warrens”, which were essentially groups of people balanced precariously between fanboys and cultists. The last thing he needed was another Hare Band.

Personally, Allen was gaining a lot of respect within the Bunnymen’s hierarchy. From the time had had arrived, they had taken him in and he had been attending their services, getting to know who everyone was, figuring out what exactly motivated them, and what they actually planned to do with the zombies. Every day he took one or two members out with him; some were good scouts, some were good shooters, and others were scatterbrained enough to be comic relief, even in dangerous situations.

Then one day, about three weeks in, they surprised him with the ultimate symbol of their acceptance. At the end of a ceremony, Echo walked to a row of zombie rabbit pelts that was on display, chose one, and presented it to Allen. He wore it slung over one shoulder, in one part to add a little swagger, and for other reasons that played out just as he had hoped. It was a rare moment that Allen actually heard sincere approval from Connar; apparently it was the highest rated show to that point.

Allen achieved his own high point later that week. After being a little cool towards him the first few weeks, Carly, the woman who had given Emma and himself the good- luck charms when they first met (her official term was PeepKeeper), had warmed up to his attempts to make time and conversation. Things progressed further, and Carly had actually approached him the night after a particularly rough day when they were ambushed, and lost Barry, one of the guys who was handy with the flamethrower. Allen had thought he and Carly were an item, but she didn’t react particularly badly when the group came back without him. Her timing was perfect; as she stood at the doorway to his office and her own new fur slipped from her shoulders, the show ‘ended’ and Allen’s camera shut off for the night. Allen could almost hear the collective groans from several million male viewers around the country. The time since then had been better; a day of hunting, followed by a night that managed to distract him from the day’s activities.

Allen’s daydream was cut short as he noticed the red light above the camera blinking. When it went solid, they were live. Let’s get this shit over with.

***

Even when things were looking good, it would take just one thing to trip it down a steep hill right into a bad day.

The Sun was shining, there was no stray gunfire going off, no bunnies ambushing from rooftops, no stepping into rabbit holes and having legs gnawed right off. The post- apocalypse might not be so bad today, Allen thought as he walked the streets about a mile north of Bunnymen HQ with Ivan, an even tempered guy in his mid-twenties who was actually a good wingmate; not too gung-ho, nor much of a fanatic to the sect.

Then again, he added grimly, all it takes is one asshole to make it rain crap. And here he comes.

Gary Gray was coming around a corner to their left, as if right on fucking cue, his overstuffed pack rattling behind him, two handguns holstered at his hips. Rather than the town sheriff, there was an ongoing lively and usually hilarious message board debate over whether he was Delta Springs’ official town crier or village idiot. Allen smirked at remembering some of the choice comments.

Ivan groaned audibly; Allen gave a subtle gesture to quiet him. Gary reached the two of them, gave a quick “Hey,” and held out his forearm, which was adorned with terribly rendered depictions of zombie bunnies, and looked more like permanent marker than tattoo ink. Allen hesitated for a moment, then bumped it with his own, while Gary looked into the camera and nodded to the viewers, who were likely groaning collectively as well; ‘Gary episodes’ were particularly loathed, and low- rated. It was more than being a nuisance; with the noise he was making, Allen was surprised that a group of zombies wasn’t trailing behind him.

“Hey Allen, I got the drop on a bunny nest. Found it yesterday while doing my own patrol. Looks like fresh meat too, pretty angry and hungry; my survival skills kept me silent. Want to team up and handle it?”

Shit. This kind of news was bad enough; a new stock of bunnies meant that they weren’t making any fucking headway. So much for 300 kills. That this guy knew about it (before Connar?, Allen wondered) meant he had the edge. He might have to take…

Connar’s voice came over the earbud.  “Screw this asshole. I don’t want him, or you, anywhere near that nest.” Allen understood he was usually beholden to take Richard’s advice, especially with Gary.

“Hold on, Gary.” Allen turned and took a half dozen steps away from the man, who moved to follow him anyway (the guy never fucking listened) until Ivan stepped in his way. When he was out of earshot (the shoulder cam could only pick up what Allen said), he touched the earbud. “Ok, what should we do about this?”

“You don’t do anything. You’ve got five minutes to get to the coordinates I gave you.” Hopefully Gary’s new nest was on the other side of town. He turned and walked back to the others.

“Thanks Gary, but we’ve already got a rendezvous point on a suspicious location. Where exactly is yours? We’ll swing by, check it out late…”

“Yeah you’ll do it later, and not fucking tell me, that it?”

“No, we’ll take care of it.” Allen hated having to placate this asshole.

Gary huffed, not caring to hide his annoyance. “You know there’s a lot of glory to go around. You could throw a little of those ratings to the masses, buddy. You’re not the only hunter out here.” Allen’s finger started to itch; he wanted to pull an HSF* on this schmuck, but the deal with Connar might expire with the loss of the ‘good soldier’ idea they had been building.

Gary turned away and started to pace, then stopped and faced Allen again. “Alright, you know what, yeah go there later, I’ll be waiting.” He handed Ivan a piece of paper, then stormed off. Ivan offered the note to Allen.

“Don’t even open it,” the order was whispered. Allen took the paper, pulled out his lighter and touched the flame to the corner of the page.

“What about the nest though, that could cause us some problems,” Allen asked Connar over the comm. “And how did you not kn..”

“They’re just money in the bank.” Allen furrowed his brow, glad that the camera was over his shoulder, never facing him. Thoughts might be private, but expressions could be read.

“What about Gary?”

“Bunnies gotta eat,” Connar replied matter- of- factly. “Now, get moving.”

* * *

When it rains shit, sometimes it pours. Not half a minute after Gary had gone from sight, there was an explosion, the thunderous report echoing around buildings and streets.

Allen and Ivan dropped to half-crouch positions immediately, then crab- walked to the nearest wall for cover. That better not have been Gary; I’m not saving his ass. He was pretty sure though, that it was ahead to the right, the opposite direction. He turned to Ivan. “What the hell was that?”

“Maybe a store, you know, gas leak… or an IED. Nothing too big, but whatever it was, I don’t think it went off without some help.”

“Sounds like it came from ahead.” Ivan nodded in agreement.  “I’m thinking 3 blocks or so that way.” He pointed northwest, and a nagging thought came to Allen’s mind, front and center. It was going to be close to the area Connar had ordered him to check out.

They waited a moment, listening for any other sounds that might let them know the situation. Several shots rang out in succession; from the weak reports, two things were clear. First, whatever was going down, bunnies were involved. Second, whoever it was didn’t pack enough firepower. This was not going to end well for someone.

They slowed their walk in the direction Ivan guessed. They would alternate looking around, and checking the sky for any sign of a fire. Sure enough, telltale tendrils of black smoke blew over the rooftops, signaling them. It was 2 blocks further than they thought, but the direction was right. They kept their pace; just because they knew where to go didn’t make it a safer situation. Finally, they turned the corner and had a clear view of the destruction.

There was no question it was an attack. Two vans, soccer mom specials with sliding passenger doors, high gloss red paint and novel length bumper stickers were in the middle of the intersection of Church and Redwood.  The tires on both cars were flattened and the lead car’s front section to the driver’s seat was engulfed in flames, the hood detached and crumpled nearby. The rear windows of the second vehicle were smashed in. Allen signaled for Ivan to cover him, and trotting cautiously to the car, half noticing bloody pieces of fur and flesh scattered about, he peeked inside the van. Three bunnies were in there, content to munch on the head of the teenage boy inside for the time being. Allen backed away slowly, but managed to step right onto a shard of glass that cracked under his boot. Without even waiting for the little ears to turn his way, he fired a quick burst into the van and turned. Ivan had his gun trained just over Allen’s shoulder as he returned. “Anything coming?“ he asked his partner.

“No…wait,” Ivan paused and looked off to the side. “Yes, got about a dozen coming.” He shifted his gun to the left as Allen turned and brought his own rifle to bear. A small group of bunnies hopped towards them in a jerky gait from the front door of a corner florist shop. Both men fired and managed to hit several of them while shattering the front windows as well.  The bunnies scattered as the shots rang out and glass shards cascaded around them, one in particular not being quick enough to get clear of the sharp fragments. Allen would have liked to have gotten the entire crew, but sometimes they spooked as easy as when they were living. Getting them out of the way was priority.

Ivan tapped a grenade on the side of his pack. “Want to give any still in there a goose?”

“No, they’re gone, but I think they chased someone in there. They might still be alive. Let’s check it out.” Allen was starting to think he should have brought more people along, but Ivan was worth more than one on his own.

“My turn,” Ivan volunteered. Allen knew his motivations were the polar opposite of Gary’s; he balanced duties with whomever else was in the group. Allen got into line five steps behind his partner as he pulled open the door and walked in.

The front display room was dimly lit by a fluorescent bulb running low, as well as the natural light coming in through the empty windowpanes. Stacks of overgrown and browning plants lined the floors. The scent of fresh bouquets was gone, a light rotting odor mixed with the burning scent of gunpowder was in the air. There wasn’t enough space to for any bunnies to hide, so Ivan went straight to the back area where bouquets were arranged.

They could hear a slight moan come from the back room. Ivan peeked around the corner. He relaxed his stance and half turned to Allen, giving the clear sign and lowering his rifle. Allen did the same as they walked into the room.

Sprawled across the dirt and blood stained floor were two more bunnies, dead, and 3 adults. One male, plainly dead, with his face chewed off, fully dressed in denim, a pistol in his cold, dead hand. Two females, one middle aged and heavyset, the other late 30’s with dyed blonde hair and a matching grey yoga shirt & pant outfit. The older woman was the only living one, but she was on her way out too, judging by the chunks the bunnies had taken from her torso. Her shirt was ripped in spots, but Allen still managed to make out the words and picture displayed on the front of the garment; “Team Allen”. The picture was no better, as it was a portrait of him shooting at something (likely bunnies), along with some grossly exaggerated caricatures of the zombunnies superimposed around him.

The zombie plague’s become marketable, he thought. We’ve lost. Game over, man.

“I’m a big fan.” Those words interrupted his thoughts and he focused back on the woman, who was looking at him with her one remaining eye and managing a weak grin. “I’m the head of a ‘team’ chapter. There’s some candied yams back in the truck, it’s a special recipe I made, topped with the purple peeps. I know those are your favorite.”

Allen’s mouth gaped. He had no idea what to say. It didn’t matter, as the woman’s stare was now unblinking.

“You were too late, Allen,” Connar whispered in his ear, “but don’t worry. This is even better. Don’t move…keep the camera on her. Good job.”

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Filed under Creative Writing, General Nerdliness, Horror, Trifecta Writing Challenge, Writing, Writing Challenges, Zombie Bunnies

Trifecta 31/ ZB 13 – In the Hunt

The woid of the week is….

ALLEY (noun)
3: a narrow street; especially: a thoroughfare through the middle of a block giving access to the rear of lots or buildings

The storyline has recently followed Emma (and yes we will return to her soon), but were you wondering what happened to Allen?
Oh, ummm, ok. Well, here it is anyway! The equally sly and saavy sibling has his own schemes….


“I just want my truck and gear. Plus, ok, the thrill of the hunt; I’ve been offing Zombunnies for a couple of days now, and I have safari experience.” It was mostly true, and Allen knew Richard wanted him out of the way, but not dead. For now.

“Fine,” Connar agreed after considering the ridiculous comparison, “back to Delta you go. But, you’re wearing a shoulder camera; I want footage, and hell, maybe we can build a following, make you a hero after all.” He motioned to McMuscles, who stepped out and promptly returned with a rifle and pack. “Though your personal items are likely gone, it wouldn’t do to drop you off empty- handed, while you go scavenging, hunting, or whatever you have planned.” Quickly they fitted his gear, complete with GPS and the promised surveillance.

Allen wasn’t going to be the one breaking the mutual suspicion, so he let the mercenary lead the way up the stairs to the helipad. He needn’t have bothered, as McMuscles warned, “Watch that last step,” and gave a personal ‘hello’ from the now familiar black boot. As it hit Allen square in the chest, he considered, between bumps down the steps, it was better than a walnut stock to the skull.

* * *

Allen awakened on his back, not in Connar’s office, but in the middle of a street. His sudden consciousness made it seem like he was teleported, but the helicopter hovering overhead reminded him that he had slept through the trip. The rotors whumping as the craft drifted higher and away were not as agonizing to hear as a cracked cranium would have exacerbated.

He sat up, his chest sore, and feeling exposed to wandering bunny hordes, regrouped in an alley between abandoned storefronts. He considering using the GPS, but first things first, reached for the camera to rip it off. Screw him.

“Believe me, you don’t want to do that,” his earbud transmitter announced. “Keep us live; you’ll stay that way too. Maybe.”

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Trifecta XXVI / ZB XI – Heroes and Villians

This Week’s word is:

enig·ma noun \i-ˈnig-mə, e-\

1: an obscure speech or writing
2: something hard to understand or explain
3: an inscrutable or mysterious person

Please remember:
Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
The word itself needs to be included in your response.
You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
Your post must include a link back to Trifecta.
Please submit your post’s permalink, not the main page of your blog. For example: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2012/03/trifextra-week-eight.html not http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com.

You know what time it is?
Come along and sing the song!
Z-O-M-B-I-E B-U-N-N-Y!

Well our heroic siblings have been rescued, so we can all take a deep breath and relax…

Emma and Allen’s uneventful ride in the helicopter should have been relaxing, but with McMuscles sitting across from them, opening walnuts in his fists (Somehow, he managed to keep the brain shaped nuts intact) they shared an uneasy feeling.

“Where are we going?” Emma asked, after deciding Allen wasn’t going to.

He paused. “Empire Media Headquarters, ETA 10 minutes.”

Allen then spoke up impatiently. “What, are you collecting survivor stories?”

“We brought your father in this morning. Mr. Connar wants you all together.” Crack. End of conversation.

Despite Richard Connar’s public presence (and self- financed documentary), Emma and the general public still saw him as an enigma. Having watched ENN, she doubted his intentions were for some tearjerker reunion footage. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

* * *

They landed on the rooftop helipad as scheduled and were unceremoniously led to a penthouse conference room. Emma noticed the wall sized screen as they entered, broadcasting the neighborhood where they had been only a short time before. Bodies, both human and bunny, were scattered around the area, with gratuitous closeups of the grenade impact zone.

“Yes that’s the aftermath,” Connar announced with no introduction. “We shot your escape, and got another chopper out there making a little extra news for us.”

“Where’s our father?” Allen asked looking around suspiciously. Connar gestured impatiently.

“He’s doing his part, reassuring the public that KillEmAll will end this crisis.” He reached in his pocket and presented a thumb drive. “This information we rescued with him contains data on the project you and your colleagues worked on, Ms Appleby- the one that created the outbreak. Your father’s appeal to save you was more than paternal, thankfully.”

“We’re securing a government-grade laboratory for your use, and will monitor and even broadcast, your progress. Refusal is not an option. Oh and Allen,” he turned and nodded to McMuscles, who unholstered a very large handgun, “Push aside those thoughts of attacking me. We’re only looking for one type of hero right now.”

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Trifecta XXV / ZB X: Get to the Choppa!

The Word of the Week is:
thun•der noun \ˈthən-dər\

1: the sound that follows a flash of lightning and is caused by sudden expansion of the air in the path of the electrical discharge
2: a loud utterance or threat
3: bang, rumble [the thunder of big guns]

Ok Emma and Allen are STILL about to be fed to the bunnies while the cameras are rolling…but wait! A wild helicopter appears!


PJ Appleby jumped from his seat towards the screen. “Emma! Allen!”

Connar turned to him, a curious expression on his face. “You know those two?”

“I know my kids when I see them.” PJ replied evenly.

Connar’s demeanor changed; Appleby doubted his smiles were ever a source of comfort. “Really? Well, that changes things.” He clicked his remote again and sound burst from the speakers on the wall. The thumping of the rotors was in the background. “You hearing us, Murray?”

“Loud and clear,” Murray Bedward, EM Carchase Correspondent, replied.

“Good. Scratch that last plan. Screw the cultists, get me those prisoners.”

* * *

“Move!” Allen turned as he shouted the order, grabbing the cultist behind him who was distracted by the looming helicopter. They wrestled briefly for his gun, but the other man shoved and sent him sprawling over an air duct. He moved to Allen, bunny ears askew, and leveled his weapon.

*Blam!* The man’s head, and bunny ears exploded. Sprayed with bone and blood, Allen looked at the ‘copter and saw a camera, no wait, a side-mounted cannon spit another salvo at the other cultist, who was ignoring Emma and preparing to fire on them. His fate was even messier.

A ladder rope was lowered to them and they climbed on, Emma first. As Allen neared the top, the copter swayed, and a man in a cheap suit and deafening tie leaned over to block him. What the hell?, Allen thought.

“Too much weight,” the man proclaimed, and moved to hit Allen. Suddenly, he pitched forward, then tumbled out, taking a screaming nosedive into the pit of bunnies. Allen hauled himself into the passenger hold.

“That better?” He heard the voice and noticed a man sitting next to Emma, seemingly made of muscles, a green mohawk, and a grimace. He nonchalantly pulled out a grenade, yanked the pin, and tossed it down to the bunnies. “Try hiding that egg,” he catch- phrased as the thunder of the grenade explosion rumbled below them.

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Filed under Creative Writing, Horror, Sci-fi, Trifecta Writing Challenge, Writing Challenges, Zombie Bunnies