Below is a short story that I wrote and submitted for a chance at publication. As the rejection later has come I’ve decided to share this story with the world through this blog post.
I ask that if you take time to read the story to please leave a comment on what you think about the story. If you don’t feel comfortable doing that you can send me an email to knightmist72(at)gmail(dot)com.
Of course the email address is a bit odd looking to avoid spammers but I’m sure people will get it what the address is.
Encircled in Malta
The ramparts and white stoned stairs had not seen this much activity since the days of Napoleon or that of World War 2. People ran around the remains of Fort St Angelo in at the harbor of Valletta, Malta. They carried makeshift weapons of spears, cross bows, Molotov cocktails and anything else that could kill.
Those who have escaped the plaque, or infestation, in Europe and Africa saw the island country as a last resort. Few realized that the short trip through the Mediterranean Sea would not be their salvation but instead encircle them. One older American tourist who was brought to the island compared the situation to an old western circling of the wagons. The poor settlers trapped in the middle with the blood thirsty natives outside trying to get in to kill them all.
His analogy caused many to laugh, but those of us who understood set about the actions I write about, and maybe our end. Those in charge did listen and began setting up guard posts across the old Fort. Ships coming into the harbor were told they must stop here or be blown out of the water by the cannon we had. Little did those ships know our cannon were from the nineteenth century, and fired cannonballs, but the threat served its purpose.
The high stone walls were able to repel those who tried to climb them and get inside the city. They are no longer glistening in the sun as they had when the pure stone showed but now red splotches cover the walls. Those full enough not to heed the instructions often killed as they attempted to climb. Of course most of the blood is a darker sick color, more of a dark red almost black color. These are from those infected who tried to invade the city.
This well was how things were going for us till the last ship came. It was an old freighter whose diesel engines put up so much dark smoke they were seen for miles on the clear day they came. The blue Mediterranean Sea not showing the dangers they brought but instead parted in front of the ship as it came to port. They did not even give us time to give our warning when shots fired out from on board the ship.
We returned fired with our ancient cannon but the time to load and fire allowed those on board ship to fire four shots to our one. We all knew it was only a matter of time before they broke past the fort and entered the harbor.
As our frontline guard prepared to fire upon the ship they were met with something no one expected. The small crane aboard ship came to life and a net appeared from the hold. We stared at the contents of the net as it came into view. Fear gripped every one of us as we saw the dead, the infected; the zombies wrestle to get free. They did not have to wait long as those aboard the ship dropped them on the shoreline and after finding freedom they attacked.
It was horrible!
The infected, the zombies, were in bad enough shape to begin with. Some had missing arms, hands, and eyes. There were a few that even had large holes in their torso were others must have been eating before they turned. You could tell the ones who had been shot before as the bullet wounds showed as gaping holes in the places they hit.
People panicked and had to run from the sudden tidal wave of the creatures. Some tried to hold them off clubbing, stabbing and some shooting as best they could. As I turned to run another net was being lowered down on the pier. I could hear the screams as I ran to the fort.
It must have been over a week when the “zombies” ran out of food sources and wandered around the island. There were about two hundred of us left in the fort and our food supplies were sufficient due to the massive loss of life. Our problem; the water supply was running low. We all stared at the salt laden water of the sea wishing we could drink it.
If it does not rain soon we shall die from lack of hydration.
It’s been about two weeks since I started this story and today I’m writing the last of our story. Those aboard the ship came out yesterday and placed a human in their net. They held the poor boy, of maybe thirteen, in the air just out of reach of the zombies below. His screams drew those damn things from across the small island. There must have been over a thousand of them when the freighter lifted a net that had been placed under them to life. It didn’t capture them all but we watched in horror as they took them back into the hold.
The ships engines started not long after that and the child’s net was cut and we had to turn away as he was torn to pieces by the remaining mass of dead. The ship left an hour later with a trumpet of its air horn signaling the departure.
Small groups of us tried to escape the fort to get water about two hours after the departure. The creatures heard the sound of the ancient gate opening. The mass of bodies came at us like a tidal wave of angry and hungry beasts.
I’m shaking as I finish this as they are pounding at the door. I maybe the only one left. I refuse to let them even eat on my dead corpse.
Our island has become that old man’s circle. I will not let these beasts take my body. The natives wanted in and eventually they made it. My plan is simple. An open window, blow my head off and drop into the sea.
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