8: A the Wolf Cub Elementary school, Richard Finestra's leadership had turned this small band of survivors into a mob of zombie killers. Gone were the days of cowering from the Revenant. As a matter of fact, the Revenant were all welcome to come into the school grounds. Bring it on.
The Defectors had also been raiding the nearby houses for supplies. They occasionally found people hiding in the houses. If they were cool, alright. If they resisted, they were taken as prisoners. Two such prisoners were brought in today.
Richard looked the two men up and down. "So, what are your names?" One of them started to answer, but Richard cut him off. "I don't really give a shit. We're just gonna kill you anyway. All in good time, but for now you can watch the festivities." Richard brought the two men out to the playground area. There, all manner of atrocities were being carried out against the Revenant.
At a wooden bench, a zombie was tied down and a Defector was casually scraping away the skin of her face with a fork from the cafeteria. He used the back of the fork to scoop out her eyeballs. Most of her right cheek was missing, but there was very little blood. On a zombie, wounds don't scab, they dry up or rot. There's no pus, just maggots, no inflammation, no infection, very little blood. Their blood either congeals or collects in the legs through gravity and spills out of their bloated veins.
At the swings, a different zombie was tied to each swing. Behind each, a Defector stood ready to push the swing. In front of each was another Defector holding some stabbing tool. One had a pitchfork, one had a machete and one had a dagger. The point of the game was to push the zombie into the blade until it stuck. If the blade came out when the swing went back, they had to keep pushing.
Several zombies were strung up from the football goal posts. Wrapped candies had been forced down their throats and people were beating them with baseball bats. These human pinatas would be battered until they gave up their goodies. One particularly vicious swing opened the chest cavity of a zombie and candies spilled out. Several Defectors rushed forward to claim their prizes.
In the middle of the field, a zombie had each of its limbs tied to the bumper of four different cars. The Defectors each drove the cars in different directions, ripping the zombie limb from limb. This game was called wishboning. You won if the torso was still attached to the appendage tied to your car.
Both of the prisoners saw all this and were disgusted. One said so and Richard asked him how it made him feel. "It makes me sick to my stomach," the man replied.
Richard grabbed a machete from a nearby Defector. "Go ahead, puke. I dare you." The man wasn't able to resist his body's urge. He doubled over. With a quick motion, Richard lopped his head off with the machete. The stump of his neck spewed forth vomit along with blood. Unable to support the weight of the body any longer, the legs gave out and the man crumpled to the dirt, landing in his own mess.
Richard turned to the other man. "How about you? Do you feel like puking?" The other man down at the body and then to Richard. His eyes went wide and then he fled toward the fence separating the school from the outside world. Some of the Defectors easily caught him since his hands were tied behind his back and he couldn't get over the fence. They brought him back to Richard.
"I'd bet you'd like to be free of those ropes, wouldn't you?" asked Richard. The man nodded, looking a little pale. "Turn around and stick your hands out." The man did as he was told. Richard raised the machete and chopped off both his hands, right above the ropes. "There is that better?" The man screamed and fell to the ground. "Oh, and in case you ever think of running away again." Richard chopped off both of the man's feet. Richard grabbed a tiki torch that was posted by the fence. He cauterized both arms and one leg. "You're not going anywhere. And I don't want you dying too fast. I want you to think about what you've done."
The man writhed around in the dirt. His face was contorted in agony. He tried to stand up or to move in any way that would get him away, but it was hopeless. A crowd formed around him to watch his last few minutes of life. The ground around him was turning into a thick, dark mud. It got in his mouth, up his nose and into his eyes. He was face down and he couldn't use his hands to lift himself out of the muck. He turned his head to the side and vomited. He had also urinated and defecated himself. His body was losing fluids at a deadly rate. It wasn't long before his movements became less frantic. He was reduced to involuntary twitches which became less and less frequent until they finally ceased. By then, most of the crowd had already lost interest and had returned to whatever they had been doing. Recess is everyone's favorite period.
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