A Heckler’s Tale
By Melissa L. Webb
The mist hung heavily on the field as the spectators watched from the stands. Sarah pulled her jacket tighter and sighed. Her school was losing to the visiting team. What a way to ruin Homecoming.
“Are you cold?” her boyfriend whispered, pulling his arms tighter around her.
She nodded, scooting closer. “Yeah, this is a miserable night, Charlie,” she told him as she wiped the moisture from her cheeks.
“We can leave if you want.”
“No, we promised Joe we’d be here for him.” She frowned down at the players on the field. “After all, his team is getting slaughtered.”
Charlie frowned. “Your brother is going to be unbearable after this.”
It was true. It was going to be a long night.
Sarah let her gaze drift back to the field. She watched as a blanket of fog rolled in, settling over the field. No one could see what was happening down there now.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Charlie whispered, hope clouding his voice. “Maybe they’ll call the game on account of fog.”
She grinned slightly. “I doubt it. Our team couldn’t play any worse even if they were blindfolded.”
A whistle pierced the night as one of the teams scored.
Charlie sighed. “At least we don’t have to watch the bloodshed.”
Sarah smirked and settled back against him, staring at the thick fog swirling in front of the bleachers.
“Hike!” Joe’s voice rang out above the fogbank as the kickoff commenced.
An object shot up in the air and headed for the crowd.
“Look out,” a lady next to Sarah cried. “Ball’s coming.”
Charlie shook his head in exasperation. “Not again.” It flew straight towards him and he caught it on reflex.
“No,” Sarah gasped as she stared at the thing in her boyfriend’s hands.
A head stared back at her, a look of horror permanently etched into its face.
Charlie dropped it as the people around him scattered. “What is that?”
Sarah shook her head as she scanned the field. The fog had cleared, leaving in its wake pure chaos.
Body parts covered the field. Some of her brother’s team was on their hands and knees, feasting on the remains. Others left the field, making their way into the stands, drooling with anticipation.
A cheerleader’s bloodcurdling scream filled the night air as the tight end tore her captain apart.
People shoved their way out of the stands, escaping the oncoming savagery.
“Sarah, we have to go,” Charlie said, trying to pull her with him.
She stayed, frozen with shock. “Charlie. Look.”
Joe made his way up the stairs. His eyes were glazed over and blood dripped from his mouth. “You,” he moaned as he pointed at them. “You laughed at us.”
Charlie looked over at Sarah as the zombie moved closer. “Maybe we should learn to keep our comments to ourselves.”
© 2015 Melissa L. Webb