Tumol Town Terror

Easy riding from here, he thought. Just one more town to go through and I'm there. The semi traveled south towards the city of Tumol. It was out in the middle of nowhere.

The big semi's front left tire suddenly exploded. Stripped rubber hit the ground and left deep black marks. A terrified look and feeling covered the driver's face. The precious cargo must never leave the tank, he thought with horror.

He yanked on the wheel, trying desperately to regain control. The end jackknifed, flipping the semi over and over. The barrels tumbled out onto the open highway.

The truck landed back on its wheels. The driver stepped out dizzily, blood trailing down his cheek and seeping into his eye.

He held a shotgun in his right hand, cradling his broken left wrist on his shoulder. The clouds thundered overhead, throwing the night into pitch-black darkness. That's what made him too late. Scraping footsteps moved towards him, though he could not pinpoint from where. A hand shot out and grabbed the gun, ripping it out of his hands.

"Oh, God, help me!" the driver screamed as bodies shoved him to the ground, teeth gnashing at his arms, legs, body, throat, and head.

A gurgled sound came from his throat as blood clotted in his throat. That was the last sound he would make for a while.

* * *

It was dark outside and everything was strangely quiet. The diner just south of the city of Tumol sat quietly with no visitors except the two people inside that worked there.

Nilly was seventeen years old and worked with her grandfather running the diner. A lean young woman, she stood five-foot nine-inches. Long of leg and short of hair, Nilly was a very stunning sight.

"Hey, Nilly; it's closin' time!"

Nilly finished wiping the table and stretched. "Okay grandpa!" she yelled back.

Taking off her apron, Nilly walked behind the counter. She glanced at the twelve-gauge double-barreled shotgun under the counter as she snatched out her tips from the apron.

A crowd of ragged, dirty-looking people gathered at the front of the diner store, just outside. Two of them tried opening the door to no avail.

"Sorry," she yelled, hoping she heard them. "We're closed!"

They started pounding weakly on the glass.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Nilly's grandpa muttered from the back as he stomped from the back. "Damned hooligans!"

They started roaring and pounded viciously on the glass. Nilly's grandpa walked straight up to the large window.

"Stop, or I'll call the- sweet mother of..." the old man got a good look at the people outside. They were all dead, grotesquely bleeding and white. Some looked more like monsters than humans.

"Nilly, go-" he yelled. Suddenly, a decaying hand shot through the glass and pulled him through the glass into the mob.

He screamed for help while Nilly watched in silent horror as the zombies ripped him apart, limb from limb.

She stumbled and fell. Jumping up, Nilly grabbed the shotgun and stuffed a box of shells into her pockets.

The zombies stepped through the glass, and Nilly started blasting them away two at a time.