'Almost Dead' & 'Almost Dead II-Seeing Red'

ALMOST DEAD

ALMOST DEAD II: Seeing Red

THE TWO-PACK

ALMOST DEAD

1 It was a smoldering hot Saturday in the middle of July. Me, and my fifteen year old brother Robbie, were about to take a camping trip to the North Carolina Mountains with our parents. What you are about to read is the entire story of our horrible vacation. I am Robbie's younger brother Cody, and I had to stand back helplessly as every terrible event of this vacation took place. Now you will read it in the safety of your own home. Don't let this happen to you. Please. *** "Are you packed YET Robbie?" "Yes Momma, Just a sec!" Robbie was trying to fit everything he had into his tiny suitcase. "C'mon Rob, If we don't hurry, it will be WINTER by the time we get there!" I grumbled. He always takes forever to pack. "Ok, ok. Carry my suitcase for me." Robbie threw me his suitcase and I almost fell down the stairs. "AHH!" I caught myself on the rail before I took the tumble. "Carry your own suitcase." I frowned and ran down the staircase. After driving for two hours in the morning fog, we finally saw a human. You'd think we would be happy... but this man was NOT friendly. We were coming around a curve on a one way road up the mountain and some homeless looking guy ran out in front of us! We stopped in time to avoid hitting him, but he gave us and evil stare. That was all we could see of his face... his eyes. He was wrapped up in clothing and scarfs that covered his face and head. So, after looking at us he stepped to the side of the road slowly. Dad pulled up beside him. "Are you alright sir?" Dad asked him. The man didn't look up. Dad then began to roll away slowly, but as soon as the man was in line with my window he looked up again, and he opened his mouth in a hideous, toothless smile. As I stared into his throat, I watched as a huge, slimy, black cockroach crawled down his tongue...

2 I was the only one that saw him smile. My brother had looked back down at his magazine when we began to drive away. I knew that something was definitely wrong with that man, but I was afraid to mention it to my Mom and Dad. About Thirty minutes later we reached our cabin. We had found it on the Internet and rented it. When we got out of the car to look around, we saw that this place was deserted. Our cabin looked like it was the only one on the mountain, plus we had no view because the trees shaded everything. Even though it was only Two-O'clock, on the mountain it was pitch dark. "WOW! Isn't this great?" My dad exclaimed sadly. I could tell it wasn't what he had expected when he paid the Realtor the $500 for a Five night stay here. But, what could we do? After seeing what little sights there were in the woods, we walked to the front door and Dad unlocked it. A rocking chair sat in the corner of the porch and was rocking in the wind. I noticed a red stain on the deck that looked odd... but I figured it must be just that - wood stain. It was a wood cabin after all. Robbie pushed past me and into the house. "Cool, bunk beds!" My brother said, after seeing the bunk beds through the open bedroom door. "Hmm... you and Cody will sleep in there, and I guess me and your Father will sleep in this next room right here..." My mom thought aloud. "Good. Robbie, come help me get the stuff out of the car." Dad instructed. "'K." Robbie walked back out and I turned my attention to the stairs leading to the second floor. Mom noticed me looking curiously at the stairway. "Why don't you go up and investigate the rest of the house?" She questioned. "O.K., I will." I answered nervously. "Wait, you'll have to take this flashlight, there aren't any lights in here." "Oh great!" I said sarcastically. I then started up the creaky staircase. When I reached the top, I noticed one door at the end of a hallway. The door was open partially, and some light was peaking through. I headed toward it with my flashlight bouncing across the bare walls. When I pushed the door open, I couldn't help but scream.

3 Laying on the carpeted floor in the otherwise empty room, was a black garbage bag. It was tied with thick rope and definitely had something big in it. Out of the open end of the bag, I saw the unmistakable sight of DRIED BLOOD on the white carpet. As I continued to look, I heard my Dad come running up the stairs yelling to me. "Cody, what's the matter??" He ran in and immediately turned his attention to the bag on the carpet. "Oh god..." He said, turning away. "Dad, is that what I think it is?" Robbie asked when he walked in behind us. "I - I don't know... But We're going to have to open the bag to see what it is." My dad determined. Robbie loved horror books and movies, so he automatically jumped with excitement when Dad said this. "CAN I HELP??? Please, please, please, I'm not scared of dead people! I've seen 'Sixth Sense' SIX TIMES!" "This isn't funny Robbie. We'll have to call the police right now." Dad told Robbie sternly. Well, we thought everything was going to be alright after the police came and took the thing away. But they never came. In fact, we never called 911. Our phone line was dead. We then looked behind the phone and saw that no wires were connected to the wall. We had no cell phone and there were no people around for 100 miles from the cabin. So we decided that we would actually have to open the bag ourselves. We were in for a horrible surprise. Dad got out a pocket knife and some gloves, and began carefully slicing the bag open. Robbie was practically jumping up and down with excitement. We all leaned forward to see what it was as our candlelight finally poured into the trash bag. We all gasped when we saw the hideous thing that was inside. Someone, or something for that matter, had killed a brown fox. But the worst thing of all was, despite the rest of the body being mostly intact, something had pulled it's eyeballs entirely out. All that was left were two black indentions in it's head. Mom turned her head away and told Dad that we couldn't stay at this cabin. "Aw c'mon Mom, it's just a dead animal... maybe somebody accidentally ran over it with their car, and – and it's eyes popped out, so then the person took the eyeballs and had them for supper, and then decided that it would be safe if they hid the body in a trash bag... in a cabin!!!" Robbie exclaimed, trying feebly to get us to laugh. But Dad was right, this wasn't funny at all. Some weirdo lived in these woods, and I was determined to find out who it was.

4 The next morning, after a night of hardly no sleep, Dad buried the dead fox. After eating breakfast, we decided to do some hiking on some trails we saw in the woods. Robbie carried a box of trail mix and dropped some of it every few feet of walking, because the trail kept going in and out. After about 20 minutes, we found an open area on top of a cliff to sit and rest. But I wasn't tired, and neither was Robbie. I was kneeling down looking at a rock that was shaped like an arrowhead when I noticed a wet feeling on the back of my neck. I stood up and touched it, then looked at my hand. On my head was more red liquid, but it wasn't blood... I could tell. I then felt another drip on my hair that made me look up. Hanging from a low tree limb was a sign that was freshly painted. I read it aloud: "I'M COMING FOR ALL OF YOU..." I didn't understand it, and I didn't want to scare Mom or Dad anymore, so I decided to just not tell them. But as I looked ahead into the woods, I noticed another cabin! I thought to myself that maybe that cabin is where the weirdo lives... the one that killed the fox, took it's eyeballs, and painted the sign. I glanced back and saw that everyone was sitting looking around, so I decided to go investigate the new cabin. There was no trail left to it, but I could still easily walk there. As I approached the cabin, I started to notice the large amount of junk lying everywhere in the yard. Tires, empty cans, cages. But around the corner, I noticed a row of tombstones, or at least they looked like tombstones. I decided to search the house first before reading them. I walked up the front steps and took one last glance back at my family before going in. I turned back and pushed open the dirty screen door. As it creaked open, I immediately jumped when I saw a shadow run by me. When it walked into the light I could tell that it was just a cat. It hissed at me and walked away. I looked straight ahead down a hall. All the doors were closed from what I could see. Before I had a chance to explore the rooms, a hoarse, loud voice yelled out "GET OUT NOW!!!"

5 Afraid to look back, knowing what I would see, I ran full speed out of the screen door, slamming it against the wall. I barely got two feet from the house before tripping on a gravestone. I slowly raised my head to see a row of four of these protruding from the ground in front of me. I began to slowly scan the names on the stones. 'R.I.P. Cody Edward Larson 2/9/1989 - 7/23/2003' 'R.I.P. Robbie Jacob Larson 4/10/1987 - 7/23/2003' 'R.I.P. David Marlow Lar...' Before I could read the last two gravestones a hand grabbed my shoulder. I timidly turned my head to see the rest of the person who planned on ending my life today. "Sorry kid, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Larry, the Forest Ranger here, and I was just taking a look at this here shack. It is in very unsafe condition, and I was planning to have it demolished. I just got a little carried away when I told you to leave." A large, chubby man said to me. "Oh... OK." I said, as I stood to face this man. "What were you doing in there anyway?" Before I could answer a large shadow began to fall over Larry's head. What brought about this shadow was a very old, rusted, aluminum baseball bat. "Look out!" I screamed to Larry, but sadly, I wasn't fast enough. The club came down on his head with a horrible 'clack'. As Larry fell to his knees, what stood behind him was the worst thing I could have ever seen. Dressed in an orange jumpsuit with huge tears covering it was the man that my father nearly ran over just days ago. Again as he looked at me, this time getting a very good look - this monster of a person opened his mouth and spit something wetly out and onto the ground. I looked down cautiously to see... a bloody human finger.

6 As I then began to back up, still facing this hideous man, he - or it - began to speak. "You know too much now Keziah. You had no business messing around where you didn't belong. But now, you know the secret I tried to keep. You did see the last gravestone there - did you not? Yes. Have a look child." This ugly man uttered to me. I, now confused in so many ways, started to squat down to read the stone. I did not know why this man called me Keziah, and I also did not know about any secret this man was trying to keep. But, I followed his directions anyway. I cautiously crouched low to the ground, knowing that at any point I could be attacked by this man too. I read the gravestone aloud. 'R.I.P. Ernest Chadwicke Larson 10/9/1938 - 7/23/1993' Who...Who is Ernest Larson?" I asked nervously. "Oh, but it's me of course child. You see, I was your grandfather a long, long time ago. Your father's father to be exact. I was close to Robbie, but I never got to see you after you became old enough to walk. This is because your father was jealous of me. Your brother loved me, and your father did not want you to love me, your own grandfather, more than him." "So, your father forced Robbie to help him end my life. Do you know that wood-chipper in the basement Keziah? The one that your parent's never use, and won't let you see? That is what put me to rest. I tried to climb back out, and managed to save a few body parts, but in the end, all of my limbs were sewn back together so my body could be buried. No one found out that your father and brother did this to me. I returned from the dead simply to tell you this Keziah - and to avenge my death." "I only wanted to kill your parents and Robbie, but you my friend, you snooped too much. You have seen me, and I cannot let you tell the world that people can return from the dead. People are beginning to learn too much, and I cannot let you tell them this. Bring your family over here now Keziah. I will blindfold all of you, and I'm sure you won't feel a thing."

7 Well the truth is people, I really didn't feel a thing, unless you count the saw slowly piercing my leg. Back and forth - back and forth. Oh yes, and then there was the other quick piercing feeling, somewhat like a machete entering one's body. And who could forget the...

THE END OF FEAR: “ALMOST DEAD” ***SCROLL DOWN FOR “ALMOST DEAD” II: SEEING RED*** VISIT THE OFFICIAL "FEAR" BOOKS WEBSITE @ http://www.fearbooks.com WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY: MATTHEW WATTS

ALMOST DEAD I I: Seeing Red 1 You may have heard of me. My names' Ernest Larson. I've got a bad reputation, and I really hate that. Cause it's not the truth, and I don't like being thought of wrongly. I guess I'm just like anybody else. I roam around my yard, through the woods, sometimes strollin' out into town. Maybe the only thing that sets me apart from a lot 'a people is the fact that I died not to long ago. Was back in '93 if 'yer keepin' track. Yeah, got into a little tussle with my son. After my son became a father, I obviously became a brand new grandfather. He seemed to think that I was intrudin' on his life, trying to be the father I never was to him. It wasn't much like that... I jus' loved them kids. I woulda given my life for... whoops. Well, I didn't exactly have to give my life away for them kids, my son went ahead an' took it into his on hands for no reason. He took a wood chipper to me... those dern blades in that chipper were so dull, man that was rough. Well, I went through that wood chipper, and I felt every bit of the pain. I'll try to save you any more 'a the gory details, but lets just say, I don't feel much better now. No, being dead... or almost dead - as I like to think of myself - isn't all it's cracked up to be. My bones still hurt, I feel every stitch that goes through every body part I had reconnected. I'm so stiff, I walk like I got peg legs. You probably think it's all pretty funny, but there are numerous bad things about being a dead man walking the Earth again. I just stay so starved-like, it is a pain in me, I just have to eat. Can't a dead man eat once an' a while? It's not only that, though... well you're about to hear what I DO go through all the time. Go ahead and feel sorry for me. I'll allow that.

2 Now I know you heard the first part of my story, probably through little Cody's eyes. Well, as much as I loved the kid, I had to do what I did to survive. You see, they ventured into MY woods. No, they didn't know I was gonna be there. I have always lived in them mountain woods, it just so happened that they came to 'em. I knew ahead of time, though. I couldn't wait to get one last look at my grandchildren. Forget the parents, they did this to me. To heck with them. Well, I never wanted to go and kill any of 'em, it's just that... well, they saw too much. In the undead world, there is a code of conduct kind of thing. You just can't let the living know that you... came back. Any time I go out I've got to be covered completely with clothes and rags. If I didn't, my skin would be falling off all over the place. Can't have that. And then there is that eating thing again. To the almost dead, we starve for human flesh and blood. Without it, we would just fall all to pieces... literally. Every bite of meat just keeps us walking that much longer. Which brings me to my story. You need to know my side of the story.

*** It was early fall season and I was feelin' great. The leaves were just beautiful up in the mountain range that time of year. I wanted to get out one day, just to breathe in the cool air, maybe go into town. So I decided to make a trip to the supermarket. This would be some more task. I had to wrap up completely, making sure my scarf covered all but my nose. I dropped on some dark sunglasses, just in case, and pulled a red ball cap over my head. Sure, I would stick out like a sore lip, but at least I would get to enjoy myself for a day. I headed out into the trails and took the long walk to the edge of the highway. I peeked out from behind the biggest tree I could find, waiting for a small sedan to pass me by. Once he was gone, I stepped out onto the highway and crossed it. It wasn't a highly traveled roadway, that was because of the other one only a couple miles over. But it was the best way for me to reach the town and all of the stores. Once I had made my way through another half mile of brush, I finally stepped out onto grassy land that meant I was on the outer edge of the supermarket parking lot. I pulled my hat down a little lower and then set out for the front doors. I was looking straight ahead when I felt a hard bump in my side, It nearly knocked me over! I looked to the side to see that a dumb woman in a van had hit me as she tried to back out of a space. One of the bad things about being a zombie is the slow reaction time we have. By the time I saw the van, it was up against me. I was getting rather hungry, thought she might need to learn a lesson, so I stood firmly in my place. With my right leg wedged under the back bumper, the woman had no choice but to get out of the absurdly large automobile. She impatiently swung her door wide and smacked it right into the side of the car next to her. Not noticing, she stomped her way toward me. Without a hint of regret, she asked me angrily, "Are you alright?... You need to watch where you walk!" I smiled under my scarf as I responded to her smart remark, "So do you." I pulled the thick wool scarf off of my face and raised her soft arm up to my mouth and took a small nib-let out of the side of it. It was pretty tasty, but she winced rather angry-like at me when I did this! Can't please 'em all, I guess.

3 After the woman ran off into the woods screaming something to the effect of "HE BIT MY ARM, HELPPPP!!", I continued on my walk to the supermarket. I approached the amazing doors that knew when I was in front of 'em and watched as the slid wide open for me. I shook my head, remembering the days when you had to open doors with your hands. Immediately upon entering the supermarket, I was hit with the ghastly music I was forced to listen to every time I visited. It was old chart-toppin' songs on the intercom, except they didn't play the words to 'em! It ain't even the same thing when you take away the soul, the words to “hit” songs! I guess I was too attached to the past. Other things irked me about the supermarket, but we will get into that in a minute. I knew one particular area of the store that was pleasing to me. I could eat anything a human could, and I did have a sweet tooth, but meat was an undead man's passion. That was why I always headed straight for the butchers freezer. Oh, I did love some Rib eye steak. Remember that code of conduct thing I talked about earlier? The one for the almost dead? Well, there was an unofficial thing about "Us" not being able to work for someone. It was too risky, especially when it came to the resume. The "Personal Interests" section was always cause for a good laugh. 'I enjoy watching sunsets on winter nights, writing poems of heartache, as well as often feasting on the flesh of the living. If you couldn't work, you certainly had a hard time gettin' money. Sooo... you had to steal just a little. Just enough to get by. It isn't like the dead can physically break the law! We just bend it a little bit to fit our needs. In times of need, times of hunger, I had to nab some kind of meat here or there. I cautiously approached the general area the Rib eye steaks usually occupied, and picked up a large pack. A small boy who could barely see over the freezer, glanced up at me. His eyes filled with crocodile tears and he ran to his Mommy, who was at the sausages.

I turned my back to the woman quickly, not wanting to make another scene, and continued to eye the packet of meat. Blood and fluids moved aside as I squeezed on the airtight packaging. I licked my lips under the scarf and tried to think of a good place where I could go have a bite or two of it. An idea popped into my head and I made my way to aisle seven, cradling the pack of meat in my hands. Aisle seven was one of the few aisles in the store without food on it. Luckily today this aisle was desolate. I was in the magazine aisle. I hunted the shelves for a moment to find a good magazine, one that looked like something I would actually read. I chuckled to myself as I raised an inspirational magazine up high to my face. It was called "Enjoying Life Monthly". 'My oh my,' I thought. The things the living read. I ravaged the packaging, spilling blood on the carefully polished floors and stuffed a large piece into my mouth. It was cold and tough to chew on, but I managed to tear away portions of it. Mid-way through my morning snack, I noticed a squeaking noise to my left. In my happiness, I failed to notice that an elderly lady had rolled up beside me. She had seen everything. The all-too-familiar squeak was coming from her throat, as she tried to scream.

4

I sprung into action, knowing where this was going, and stuffed the slab of steak into her open mouth. Her eyes filled with tears as I hobbled as quickly as my decaying legs could carry me, away from the woman. I was disappointed that I didn't get to eat as well as I had hoped, but there was still time left in the day. I finally reached the sliding doors again and walked out into the parking lot at a more leisurely pace. I reached the car that the lady had leaped out of earlier and saw that the owner of the car sitting next to it had shown up. The man was nearly crying over his dented-in door. He ducked down to hide his tears from me as I strode past, unable to contain a giggle. I continued on, to the edge of the trees between the parking lot and the highway and waited for traffic to clear. Once I had an open stretch of highway, I jogged across. I followed my usual path through the overgrowth and continued on to my cabin. When I reached the front porch I took a step up and stopped. Something was wrong. The screen door had a slash cut through the middle of it and the hinges were broken loose. Someone had been riflin' through my house while I was gone. Upon entering the door, things only got worse. The floor was covered in all of my belongings. Pictures were torn from the wall, lamps broken, my chest of drawers had been exonerated of all it's drawers. Who did this?? I stumbled over a lone boot in the floor and walked to the kitchen. I found that it looked much the same. Everything was out of place. Something caught my eye in the middle of the countertop. One of my steak knives had been jabbed into the wood counter top with a paper note held in place by it. As tears came to my eyes after seeing that my refrigerator was wide open with nothing inside, I proceeded to the note. I carefully tugged on the six-inch knife until it tore out of the counter top, leaving a deep gash. I picked up the piece of paper that had been handwritten in red ink. In bold, large, threatening letters, the paper spelled out what SOMEONE had planned for me. "I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE. YOU AIN'T GONNA TAKE OVER THESE WOODS. NOT SO LONG AS I GOT ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT. NEXT TIME, I'LL MAKE SURE YOU ARE HERE BEFORE I VISIT. AND NEXT TIME, YOU GONNA PAY."

5

It quickly became clear to me that this person probably meant business. When the letter said "I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE...", I was pretty sure the author meant DEAD. How did they know that? ... and why couldn't I just live a peaceful afterlife? I ain't bothered nobody, not no way, not no how. Well, then again, they seemed to be mostly mad about me living in "THEIR" woods. I certainly ain't took them over though. But, if they wanted a fight out of me... I would be ready.

*** Two days later, after contacting four of my undead friends, I scheduled a meeting in my cabin. All of my loyal friends showed up for the meeting, and we all sat down in my living room... or what was left of it. I hushed down the group after everyone had settled in. "Hello everyone. I organized this meeting for the sole purpose of protection. The Almost Dead may be in trouble. I know for sure that I am. For us to live peacefully, we are all going to have to work together as one. Because someone is out to get us." "Ernest... hate to interrupt you," Bill started, "but I think everyone should know that... I got a letter too. Someone wants me to be... well, completely dead." Just as my old friend Bill finished his sentence, Derrick piped up. "Look, I got the letter, and we ALL got the same letter. My house is ruined. I had just had quite a nice filét mignon, and I came home to such a horror! It is obvious that someone has been watching us very closely." I was startled to hear that not just me, but everyone in the room had gotten similar threats. But now I knew for sure that they would stand behind me in my fight. "I don't know when he or she... or them are planning to attack us, but we need to be prepared. I recommend we all relocate to one location. We will be stronger if we are together when they try to surprise us." Several of my friends nodded in agreement and Stan spoke up. "It doesn't matter where we all go, because we all have been threatened. They will find us at any of our houses. I hate to just volunteer someone, but Ernest, your cabin seems best equipped to house all of us... better than any of our old shacks." I didn't argue with him. "I have no problem with that Stan," I said. "Now... we have to use what we are well equipped with to fight, and that is our hunger. We need to go on a fast for the next couple of days so we will be ready. Assuming 'They' come, we will be first to attack. We will gnaw away at them until they realize their mistake." The last suggestion didn't go over so well with the group. This time, the youngest of the group, Richard raised his voice... "FAST? Uh, I don't know about all that. We don't have any idea WHEN they will come! We could be starved for months!" I tried to reason with him, "We still have an ounce of self-control, even if we are half-dead. We can do this. If the writer of these letters is serious, we won't have to wait long. So, what's everybody think?" Richard had a frown on his face, but the other three zombies in the room were glancing at each other for guidance. Stan was the first to speak. "We have no choice guys. We have to do this, and we have to do it together."

6

A mad dash followed the meeting for the next five hours, as everyone tried to get moved in and stationed at their posts before dark. It WAS true that we had no idea when we would be attacked, so we had to move fast one way or 'nother. All of my buddies left and came back, left and came back for a long while, as they collected their belongings from their own homes. Eventually, everyone was planted back at my cabin that night. We followed through with our plan to begin fasting, but Richard had a different plan. He had to be smacked a couple of times when he was spotted in the kitchen. We all sat talking for a while as the sun began to go down. We decided to take shifts, with two people staying awake while others slept. Fortunately, my cabin had enough rooms so that everybody could spread out and sleep in different areas of the house. The two people on shift would sit by the front door, reading or watching television while they kept their post. It all seemed like a good plan, we didn't think we could be outnumbered or bombarded when the time did arrive. Bill and Richard were the first to be on shift, so I got a welcome nap as well as did Derrick and Stan. About two hours into my nap, I was shaken awake by Bill. I jumped to my feet, my bone's snapping violently. "Whoa, we ain't in trouble Ernest, but it's time for you to be on shift". That was a relief to hear. I sat up with Stan for several more hours before we gave it a rest. We rotated out again to Derrick and Bill. My shift partner, Stan went back to sleep, but I decided to go into my study to do some reading. I shut the door behind me as I heard Derrick laughing about something. That is what we should have been doing on that night. Not sitting up ready to pounce on the bad guys. I grabbed a book from my bookcase that I hadn't read yet. It happened to be about some private investigators who were hired to spy on criminals. Heck, I thought, maybe we should hire private investigators to keep an eye on the cabin! I got a good ways into the book when I stopped to get a crick out of my neck. I waited for the pop, but as soon as MY neck popped, I heard a similar cracking noise from outside my window. I casually reached up to my lamp and clicked the light off as I crept over to the window. It was pitch black out in them woods, the moon couldn't shine through the clouds tonight. But I definitely heard rustling noises walking away from my window. Now I ain't a watchdog myself, but those footsteps sure sounded like they were headed toward my front door!

7

I darted out of my study and into the living room, startling Bill and Derrick in the process. I hopped over Richard as he continued to sleep and ran to block the front door, but as I went flying shoulder-first at the door, it was kicked open from the other side. Wood splinters flew everywhere as the door slammed into my back. I fell to the floor clutching my shoulder. I wasn't facing the door after I landed, so I could only try to decipher what Bill, Derrick and Richard's shrieks meant. And I was sure that the Easter bunny wasn't at the door. Leaking from my numerous scars was the odd fluid that stayed in a dead man's body after all the blood had run dry. The voice at the door spoke. "You MORON'S!" it bellowed. The man stood there cackling at us. "You all sure are friendly for dead people. You thought that I was DEAD? You fell for it, and I couldn't wait to take advantage of your stupidity." I was finally able to turn and focus on the man in the doorway. He had a ski mask over his face, but apparently he realized he didn't need to wear it anymore. He didn't need to wear it because he had already given away his identity. The man that I had indeed befriended only four or five weeks ago was the one in the mask. The man that I had just finished shifts with and had let get some sleep was now ready to put us out of our... decent existence. Stan pulled off his black ski mask, nearly getting his nose stuck in the mask's eye hole on the way off. He was clumsy. And for some reason, I immediately knew that we had a chance against him. As clumsy as the human was, as weak as he seemed - even with his deep voice, he was an easy prey for the Almost Dead.

"Well, why is everyone so quiet now?? I may not have help to rid the world of you creeps, but I DO have this shiny wooden baseball bat." He brought around from his back the very bat he was speaking of. I couldn't help but snicker at Stan. As I lay on the floor, bleeding my bodily fluids, chuckling all the same, I turned my attention to the undead people in the room. Bill, Derrick, Richard. They were all laughing at Stan, and Stan couldn't figure out why. "What are you laughing at? I said I have a BAT and I WILL use it." A vein protruded in his forehead as he boiled over. He tried to lunge at Bill who was now standing right behind me. Stan had apparently forgotten about me, because I was able to latch on to his ankle with my very long fingernails, bringing him crashing to the floor. Bill took the opportunity to put his knee down on the back of Stan's head, forcing it to the floor. Derrick grabbed the bat from Stan's clammy hands and held it ready. And then there was Richard. Richard was licking his lips already, and did not hesitate any longer. He knelt down at Stan's side and reached for a patch of skin he thought would be appealing. He dug his nails into the skin and they tore the epidermis away from Stan's bones as he began to scream like a woman. Richard carefully plucked the liver from Stan's stomach and tore away the attached strings. Richard dug into the liver like a fresh piece of fried chicken, splattering the floor with pea-green bile in the process. Even for a nearly dead man like me, it was a sickening sight. But then Richard cleared everything up with his truly unique brand of humor. "I told you guys I was hungry," Richard managed to gurgle out.

THE END OF FEAR: "ALMOST DEAD" II: Seeing Red * READ ALL OF THE NEWEST FEAR E-BOOKS AT THE OFFICIAL WEBSITE: http://www.fearbooks.com* THE FEAR SERIES: Almost Dead II: Seeing Red, WRITTEN & ILLUSTRATED BY: MATTHEW WATTS