Dreams Of The Dead {part 5 - Preparations} {finished} {story continued later}

In Frank Hart's dressing room: Candy, Sarah Angel, and Frank Hart all stand over the chest containing Frank's mini-armory. Inside the chest there are several rifles, shotguns, hand guns, and blades. Ammunition for all guns are there too. A few grenades and other explosives are strapped to the inside of the lid. Also on the inside of the lid is a zippered section.

Cotton the Clown is braced against the door. There are constant banging sounds and moans coming from the other side of the door.

"Don't worry, clown," Frank Hart says, "They can't get in here. That door is solid wood and two inches thick! They're built tough to keep out over zealous fans."

As soon as Hart says this the door bulges inward a bit. Cotton pushes back against it hard.

"Ah, suit yourself," Frank says with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Girls, load up. We are gonna hole up in here until help comes. But, there's no sense in being unarmed if those things do get in here."

Candy the Clown digs around and finds two large caliber revolvers and hip holsters to go with them. She fastens the holsters around her waist and spins the guns expertly around her fingers. In one smooth motion the guns slip into the holsters. Noticing she was getting strange looks from Frank and Sarah, Candy smiles proudly. "Old Jeb taught me to shoot when I was young. I'm pretty good."

Sarah turns and starts to search in the chest. She makes a face and mocks Candy. Behind her, Candy sticks out her tongue.

Sarah Angel pulls out a compound bow and a quiver of arrows on a wide leather sling. She tests the bow a couple of times before laying it down. Next the sling goes over her head. She situates the strap until the quiver rests comfortably. The strap runs between her breasts, making them bulge out prettily in her white baby-doll t-shirt. Sarah slips the bow over her shoulder.

"A bow and arrow?" Candy asks, sarcastically, "Don't you ever quit with all that heart and integrity shit?"

This time Sarah sticks her tongue out at Candy and makes a face. Frank Hart rolls his eyes and pushes between the two ladies, to separate them as much as for any other reason. He goes to the chest and slings a hunting rifle over his shoulder. Then, he pulls out a sawed-off shotgun.

"Come over here and grab a gun, biggie," Frank says.

Cotton replies, "Don't like guns."

"You had better learn to like them pretty fast. In case you didn't notice the living dead is right outside the door."

As if by cue, the banging at the door gets louder than ever. "How could I not notice? I'm the only thing keeping them from rushing in here and eating us."

Frank just shakes his head. He reaches and unzips the zippered part of the armory chest. Several tattered paperback books fall out. He spreads them out with his hands and picks one up. Looking inside the box, Candy notices each book is some kind of survival guide.

Frank holds up the book for everybody to see.



"Never leave home without it. One thing it says in here is to always secure your escape route." Frank looks around. "There are only two ways in or out of this room. The door, as our large friend would be so kind as to mention, is currently not an option. So, I guess the window is our only option in the unlikely event that those things break through." Frank walks over to the window and peers out.

"Shit, I forgot we are in the middle of a carnival." From out the window you can see a huge fairground. "Cotton, leave that damn door alone and come here, please."

Finally fed up with his shit, Cotton steps away from the door and jogs over to the window. "What?"

"I need to know the best way out of here. Just in case."

"Look," says Sarah, "None of those things are out there. We can get away scot free."

Cotton and Frank both jump a little when she started to speak. They hadn't realized that Candy and Sarah had joined them at the window.

"Wrong again, sister," says Candy. She started pointing. "They are all gathered up over there."

"That's another dressing room. I wonder who's?"

Before anybody could begin to speculate..

BANG! A loud crash. A scream

"They're coming through!!"


...


Ashtyn Sky stumbles around the back-stage hallways, clutching her stomach. Speaking out loud to no one in particular she says, "At least there are none of those things that killed Brenton out here..."

She wretches. A dry heave. She tries to cover her mouth. A small fountain of blood shoots out of her mouth.

"OH GOD MY STOMACH. OHMYGODITHURTS SO MUCH!"

Slowly fade to black on an image of Ashtyn Sky curled up on the cold concrete floor in the fetal position. A small puddle of blood surrounds her.

She shivers one final time. Then stops moving. Stops sobbing. Stops breathing.

The world turns completely black.

For a few seconds, Sky can be heard muttering softly, "zumbie slim... zombie... slim..."




{Finished. Story to continue later!!}