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Night of the Living Dead: Rewritten IV \ Billy Go
Night of the Living Dead: Rewritten IV \ Billy Goes
Berserk
Written 5-13-93 by: David Minter
Based on the movie Night of the Living Dead @1968 by Image
Ten Productions, the concept of the Book and Record Set
@1984 by Buena Vista Records, Night of the Living Dead:
Rewritten III \ From Here to Insanity @1993 by David
Minter, Night of the Living Dead: Rewritten II \ Guess
Who's Coming to Dinner @1993 by David Minter, and Night of
the Living Dead: Rewritten \ Something Dead this Way Comes
@1993 by David Minter.
This is the story of Night of the Living Dead: Rewritten
IV \ Billy Goes Berserk. You've read the title already...
twice; so let's get on with it. WHAT?! You haven't read
the title? DOLTS! Okay. Go back to the top of the page
and start again; we'll wait.
Good. Now, if there aren't anymore interruptions...
you'll know it's time to turn the page when you hear the
zombie rending human flesh like this... BLORCH! Let's
begin immediately since you've wasted so much time
already. Remember to turn the page every time you hear
the sound of the zombie mutilating human flesh. BLORCH!
This is the end of Night of the Living Dead: Rewritten
IV \ Billy Goes Berserk. Ooops! YOU ALL HAVE ANNOYED ME
SO MUCH I CAN'T GET THE ORDER STRAIGHT!
Let's recap: Billy's gone berserk, which should have
been painfully obvious by now. BLORCH!
"Now, Son." Rand vainly tried to comfort his son.
"Put ol' Missy down. She's very dangerous. She kicks
back like a mule like your mother whenever we f-" "Uh,
Rand, dear," Fran interrupted. "There's no need to
expose Billy's young and apparently unstable mind to such
foul words." Billy turned to face his mother. "Damn
straight!" Billy clutched the barrel of his father's
rifle, still slightly warm from the previous carnage. He
began to rhythmically stroke it like his- No! Please!
Don't make me tell that joke! Just turn the paaaaaaage!
BLORCH!
Billy made a mad dash for the door. Rand and Fran
followed. "Billy, dear. What's wrong with you?" Billy
turned his head back to face his mother while reaching out
for the front doorknob. "Noiseless blue sounds sit
cross-legged under the mountaintop!" he shrieked. Fran
and Rand looked at each other, puzzled. Billy turned his
attention back to the doorknob. "Going to the shore, John
George to sing!" The doorknob clicked defeatedly in its
socket. "Hmmm. Well, the sentence is properly
constructed," Rand said, the first to gather up enough
courage and intelligence to speak. "But completely
meaningless." "Welp," Fran breathed in consternation.
Billy spun around defensively. "STOP CALLING ME WELP! I
told you, Wart is fine! God! I could just sock her in
the jaw with such joy!" "No. I didn't mean welp as is
welp, I meant welp as in well, welp!" "Ok. That's all
right, then." BLORCH!
"AH!" Rand oh-ed. "He's insane right?" Fran looked
over at her son, who was unsuccessfully cross-examining
the doorknob in an attempt to trick it into turning. "I'd
say it's a safe wager." "That's it then. His seemingly
pointless strings of words are actually signs and
counter-signs." "Ah, ha!" Billy suddenly shouted at the
doorknob, drawing his arm back in an accusing point. "So
you admit you murdered Mrs. Bronson!" Utter silence
emanated from all patrons involved: Billy. "Dammit!
Confess!" he said as he drew up the rifle and blew a hole
in the door. Rand tried desperately to control his son.
"We spent almost an hour putting up that wood!" Billy
charged through the remnants of the front door. He
stumbled into the yard and assumed an attacking stance in
front of the slowly advancing army of corpses. BLORCH!
At the sight of fresh meat, the gathered monsters
hissed in unison. "So, you'd like to take a bite out of
me, out of all of us, eh!? Well, take this!" Billy
raised the rifle and fired into the nearest spleen
available. Its owner staggered back and toppled
lifelessly ( Really, this time. ) into its comrades. Billy
held his hand limply in front of the face of a zombie.
"Here! It's all yours!" The creature in question didn't
hesitate or question; he just opened his broken mouth and
prepared to chow down. But when the teeth fell, all they
met were themselves. "Ah, ah, ah! Naughty zombie." Billy
swung the butt of the rifle up into the creature's jaw.
Its head spun around a few times, building up enough
momentum to take off from its decaying shoulders. The
creature still stubbornly moved. Billy then decided to
finish it off. BLORCH!
"MONSTERS! You're all sick, bastards!" He was
actually speaking about his parents, but as time went on,
it seemed to make more sense directed towards the zombies.
"I'll stop you all! I'm a genius! I'm destined for
greatness! If only I could get some kind of work at a
television station! Ha, haaaaaaaa!" Billy burst away
into the crowd, dispersing them. He was soon lost in the
mass of dead flesh. Fran clutched at Rand's oddly amusing
cummerbund. "We've got to go after him. We've got to get
out of here! Or at least, back into the safety of the
house!" Rand clutched back. "You're right!" "Let's get
to the truck and follow Billy." Rand dashed toward the
truck, but the sight that greeted him made him stumble
onto the ground. Fran stopped to avoid the heap that was
her husband. It was Rand who spoke first. "I simply
cannot believe it." Rand's truck was covered with paint
representing various flora and propaganda. "My truck has
been painted up to look like the Partridge Family van! We
can't possibly be seen by ANYTHING in a vehicle that looks
like that!" BLORCH!
Zombies, taking advantage of their surprise,
surrounded Fran and Rand. It looked like the end for them
and it would have been had it not been for the inventive
mind of Rand. Thinking quickly, Rand scooped up his wife
and used her as a battering ram, freeing enough space for
the pair to run. Soon, they caught up with their mad,
trigger-happy son. "TAKE THIS, PAPAL BASTARDS!" Billy
shot Old Man Deagle's spleen out, took up the spade that
he was holding, did a back-flip over another zombie,
buried the spade into the back of its spleen, turned
around, buried his foot through another's pancreas,
realized he missed, withdrew his leg, tried again,
succeeded, and returned to firing the gun. WHEW! Rand
came huffing and puffing up to his son. "Billy! You're
alright... physically anyway." Fran caught up just in
time to hear a high pitched scream puncture the very air
around them. BLORCH!
Not bothering to think, which was his usual course of
action, Billy ran towards the source of the sound. Three
ghouls were stalking a girl about ten years of age. Billy
jumped into the fray and took out the zombies. The girl
was so happy she cried as she ran to give Billy a hug.
But, if the truth be known, and, eventually it will be,
she was crying because Billy never bothered to bathe as
regularly as most people. "Oh, thank you! Thank you,
sir! My name's Kate." Billy looked down at the person he
had just saved and wondered if it had been a bad move.
"Look, bitch. I don't wanna hear your life story. I just
want to kill all of those things." Kate continued on
anyway. "I don't know what happened to them. My parents
there-" Billy looked quite stunned. "You mean you had
three parents?!?,;\|+=-_~`!@#$%^&*()" "Of course. Doesn't
everyone? Actually, I have four parents. I think the
other one ran for her miserable life, leaving me as a
diversion. Anyway, they just burst into my room and
started attacking me. I just ran for my life. I owe it
you, sir. I think... I love you." "Well, I could NEVER
love you!" Billy just ran off, leaving Kate to fend for
herself. Rand and Fran, after hearing this little
exchange, ran up to Kate. "Don't worry, little girl.
Unlike our son, we'll protect you. But, we've also go to
keep up with Billy and make sure he stays safe." Stars,
all-encompassing, ready to go nova at any moment stars,
filled Kate's eyes. "Billy. So that's the name of the
boy I love." BLORCH!
Billy ran from street to street, taking out any and
all zombies that dared to show their butts. Luckily, Rand
had the piece of mind ( ? ) to buy a shotgun that had the
capability to fire an infinite supply of shells. Rand,
Fran, and Kate barely kept up with the loon. Billy was
leveling his gun when another scream broke his
concentration. This time it was a man. It was followed
by the scream of a woman. Rounding the corner, he saw the
source of the screams. Sprawled out face down on the hood
of his car was Mister Feldman, a zombie chewing away at
his arm. Mrs. Feldman was screaming in the backseat. She
was afraid for her husband and she had gone into labor.
Billy ran up to the creature and put it out of its
miserable existence. He walked over to the driver's side
door and opened it. "It's alright, Mrs. Feldman, even
though Mister Feldman is dead. Even though I can't drive,
I'll get you to the hospital on time." Mrs. Feldman was
totally oblivious to him. Just as he was stepping into
the driver's seat, Mister Feldman's bloodied hands grabbed
at his bell bottoms. BLORCH!
Billy remorselessly brought the butt of his, excuse
me, Rand's rifle into the back of Mister Feldman's skull.
The force of the blow sent both participants reeling out
onto the asphalt. Mrs. Feldman continued to scream away
in the back seat. Attracted by the sounds of struggle,
zombies gathered in to eat the scraps. Billy wrestled
free of the zombie's grasp, jumped away, aimed at its
spleen, and fired. Billy, his attention now drawn to the
approaching zombies, gritted his teeth and bared his
breasts. He swung the rifle up. The face that appeared
in the rifle's sights was his father's. BLORCH!
"Billy! I know you're not well right now." Billy
just continued to grit his teeth; sweat was beginning to
form on them. "Alright. You're another Napoleon. I
guess you're Napoleon XV then. Anyway, think about what
you're doing!" "I know precisely what I'm doing! I'm
fulfilling my divine duty, the one that God
himself\herself ( We have to be politically correct
here. ) has ordained for me! I'm averting the Apocalypse.
'Death and hell shall give up their dead.' I must stop
Armageddon!" "I know you must," Rand lied. "But,
wouldn't it be easier if we drove you in the back of this
truck here, which I could have sworn was a car earlier?"
It had been, but it was simply a result of mass hysteria
brought on by the trauma of the dead returning to life.
Rand waved a hand in its direction. The very thought of
it made Billy drool. "Your poor feet can get a rest, and
believe me," Rand looked down at his son's feet. "They
look like they can sure them." Billy looked down at his
feet. Blood was pouring from the holes in the leather.
Toenails were swimming around inside and periodically
stabbing into his flesh. Corns were cropping up and
bursting faster than you could say "Doctor Scholl's." He
returned to his father. "You're right. The less pain I'm
in, the better I can aim!" He held up his father's rifle
for emphasis. He flung his body over the back of the
truck's trunk, and winced in pain when his feet hit the
metal. "Dad. You drive." "I know I must. I don't think
Mrs. Feldman here is capable of driving." She had begun
her heavy breathing exercises. "Kate here is too young
and Fran is too stupid." Fran got in on Mrs. Feldman's
side, pretending to be her midwife\den mother. Kate
jumped in back with Billy, admiring his looks if not his
smell. Rand brought the car\truck into gear and plowed
through the crowd of advancing dead men. BLORCH!
Rand switched on the car's ( The word car is easier
to type than truck. ) radio. "Um, ladies and gentlemen.
In an attempt to keep the public informed about the
drastic series of murders plaguing the city and
surrounding areas, we are switching over our station's
facilities to radio station BTCH, Kingston Falls." Various
high pitched wheezes and whistles flooded the car. At
times, the noise sounded like Kreskin's voice. After all,
he'll be there; he'll amaze you! "Hey, cats and cattetes!
This is Rockin' Ricky Rialto! And right now, Kingston
Falls is pretty well rockin', eh? Unless you're
incredibly dumb or old, you are aware of the murders
happenin' now. But, what are they, these murderers? Just
where do they come from? With me now in the studio, is
Professor Kent Helpya, assistant forensic chemist of the
Kingston Fall's Police Force and Chief Mortician Mort
Emkommapost also of that self same organization.
Gentlemen, hello." "Hello, Ricky!" the men answered in
unison. "Okay, first off, what are they?" "I'll handle
this," Kent spoke up. Mort was all too happy to let him
do it. He wasn't handling this very well, but still
better than Billy was. He was glad that Kent was there to
do what Mort couldn't: think. BLORCH!
"First off, to disprove that this is all some sort of
hoax-" "A.K.A. Orson Welles crap!" Rockin' Ricky added.
"Or if you think it's a publicity stunt for a new movie-"
"Have you seen the new movie? NAT-ZEE EMM-PIRE-RRRRRR!"
Rick interrupted again. "It's not. This is all fucking
real!" "Hey, chump! You can't say that on the radio
we'll have the FCC, the Fucking Crap-heads Counsel, down
on us in a flash. If you want to swear on the radio, go
see my cousin, Howard, damn it!" Kent continued,
unabated. "I must also thank the team of officers, with
the help of Emkommapost, that searched the nuclear power
plant for evidence, er, valuables, er clues. Seven men
went out; only three and a half returned." Mort swallowed
hard enough for his microphone to short out. "It was from
this half of a man that most of our information comes
from. There seems to be a form of parasite residing in
the liver of these beings." Rand laughed sarcastically.
He knew better. "It seems to assume all motor control of
the host. We removed every organ from the cadaver, except
for the muscles and gastro-intestinal system, AND IT STILL
FUNCTIONED! Even without the brain, it can still move,
which has been proved rather painfully, according to
police reports. This organism becomes the new creature's
brain; we cannot call these things humans any longer."
BLORCH!
"They have become predators, parasites themselves.
They feast on human flesh because at one time they were
human themselves." "I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir, but
the FFC has strict rules of not allowing the word
themselves to said more than twice in two consecutive
sentences." "Despite that fact, these creatures also
exist on a psychological level. They first attack and
eat, yes, eat, their friends, neighbors, and relatives,
not necessarily in that order. When the need for food
becomes strong enough, though, any warm human flesh will
do." Kent paused to consult his notes and fart. "The
single most dangerous thing about these creatures is that
they were once... dead." "DEAD!" Ricky shouted in
disbelief. "Yes. Anyone bitten by these creatures, even
if it is just a small wound, will eventually become one of
them. He will die and become re-animated to kill and eat
others." "Why eat people?" "To be more specific, they
want human flesh. And we don't know or care why." "Mister
Helpya, you said, 'Eventually.'" "Yes." "What do you
mean?" "The time it takes for a dead body that has been a
meal for these things to revive varies. It can take
anywhere from three minutes to time enough for rigor
mortis to set in, anywhere from seven to ten hours."
"Why?" "Well, that's a question we'll have to answer in
another paragraph." BLORCH!
"It seems that persons with damage to the liver,
spleen, stomach, or other portions of the
gastro-intestinal tract, and people who have had their
appendix taken out take longer to revive. This is due to
the fact that, as stated earlier, this parasite resides in
the liver." Rand was about to laugh again, but then it
hit him. That was why his mother-in-all hadn't revived.
She was eaten by the rabid kangaroo and not one of them.
Back in the studio, Mort had come to the same conclusion,
but about different people. Farmer had had her appendix
taken out, and Kembal had ulcers. And, just for the
benefit of the readers, I'll explain the other revivals.
Chief Emorby was a heavy drinker. Old Man Deagle took
many forms of medication to try and alter the aging
process. Tan Lord, being Oriental, had eaten so much raw
fish throughout his life that his stomach had basically
become a vestigial organ. Also, the zombies he drank
didn't help. D.J. Friday's stomach was shot because he
actually ate the food he cooked. "I must stress again,
only people bitten by these creatures will return to life
after dying." BLORCH!
Of course, we can forgive Kent for not knowing about
Johnny and the Indians. He had no possible way of
knowing. As always happens in these kinds of monster
stories, the scientists do not know where the menace in
question comes from. Only the audience knows and it stays
that way. That was my commentary, and now back to the
story. BLORCH!
"Avoid these creatures at all costs. But if
necessary, there is a way to kill them. A bullet wound to
the stomach will stop any of these monsters. When this
crisis began, we advised people to stay boarded up in
their homes. We recant our previous advice. Get the hell
out of Dodge. The National Guard is systematically
combing Kingston Falls with flamethrowers, but they will
not be responsible for any human lives. They have
instructions to torch anything moving that is remotely
human. The parasite in these 'zombies' can only be
transmitted through bites." "THE NATIONAL GUARD!" Billy
shouted. "I'm better than any fucking member of the
National Guard!" He stood up took aim, fired, missed,
fired again, missed again, and gave up. "Are there any
reports of these creatures in nearby areas?" "Yes. There
are scattered pockets leaking into Tennessee, Hazzard
County in particular, but their Nation Guard reserves,
having been alerted to the danger, have and will easily
handle them. We urge people to seek safety under the
not-nearly-as-awful-sounding-as-it-really-is marshal law
of the police department of Hazzard County." "I don't
know. Somehow, a walking dead person doesn't seem that
dangerous to me." "Mister Rialto, calling these creatures
harmless is like labeling hockey as a light contact sport.
Look. I'll prove it to you!" Kent stood up, drew a
pistol from his lab smock, turned, pointed it at Mort, and
fired, being careful not to damage the spleen\liver. Mort
placed his hands to his wound and fell backwards. BLORCH!
Kent sat down, holstered his weapon, and continued.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small vial.
"This small vial-" Told you. "-contains a distillation
of the mutated virus found in zombie tissue and saliva,
the means of infection transmission." He removed the
stopper and poured the vial's contents into Mort's open
wound. "Now all we have to do is watch and wait." "You
know, all people are supposed to be searched for hidden
weapons and contagions before entering the control booth!"
Ricky cajoled the various people involved, over the moans
of Mort Emkommapost. "But, there is one other major
weakness that these creatures possess. If you were
surrounded by eight or ten of these things-" "You know,"
Ricky interrupted. "I was just going ask that same
question. 'If I were surrounded by eight or ten of these
things, would I stand a chance?'" "I know you were.
Interrupt me again and I'll shoot you to." Kent held up
his pistol for emphasis. "As I was saying-" Kent was
once again interrupted by a moan from the dying Mort.
"Excuse me. One moment, please." Without even looking or
caring, Kent swung his pistol around and fired through
Mort's brain. BLORCH!
"Anyway, as I was saying, there is another weakness
that people can exploit if they want to remain alive. If
not, commit suicide. Just be sure that you shoot yourself
in the spleen. Despite the fact that these creatures have
superior strength-" "Ummm. These creatures have superior
strength?" "Yes. Superhuman, as a matter of fact." "You
failed to mention that earlier." "I did? I failed to
mention such an important fact that residual traces of
radiation discovered on the bodies empower these beings
with strength way beyond that of an ordinary human being?"
"Yes." "Hmmm. I must be slipping. I deserve a bonus.
Anyway, despite the fact that these creatures have
superhuman strength, they have sub-par intelligence. They
are incredibly stupid. Given time, they can accomplish
such a simple task as opening a door. That's about the
extent of their education. These monsters are nothing but
pure instinct, and basic ones, at that." Rand had several
things to say about all of this. Most of them are too
stupid to even contemplate. One, however, was pretty
poignant. "The zombies' lack of brains kept them from
employing their super strength to shatter the feeble bonds
that we had established to keep the creatures out. That's
about all I've got to say... for now." BLORCH!
"The strength that these damnable things possess
enables them to bite through and tear off human flesh and
limbs." "Well, thank you Professor Helpya." "Ummm. I'm
not finished yet." "Trust me. You were. Shortly we will
be turning over our services to the Emergency Broadcasting
System for the sole purpose of generating that asinine
tone and disturbing you. We'll- ACK!" The arm of Mort
Emkommapost wrapped itself around Rockin' Ricky Rialto's
throat. BLORCH!
Ricky fought back the advancing mouth of the
creature. "SEE! I was right! Ha, Haaaaa!" Kent began
shouted as he began dancing around the room. "SOMEONE
HELP GET THIS THING OFF OF ME!" Ricky shouted through the
struggle. He brought his elbow back, remembering what
Kent had said earlier, and planted it into the now
zombified Mort's stomach. The creature staggered back and
bumped into a bank of equipment, which caused Three Dog
Night's version of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" to be
broadcast over the airwaves. A technician passed by and
right into the path of the ghoul. Seizing the chance for
an easy lunch, Mort grabbed the technician and began
biting into his neck. "See, Ricky? See?! Huh? HUH? Do
ya?" Ricky rubbed the back of his now sore neck. "I
guess you were right, but I'll never admit it." Another
technician handed Ricky a bulletin. "This has just been
handed to me." He paused. "ZOMBIES HAVE ENTERED THE
BUILDING." Several hands began banging at the closed door
leading to Ricky's booth. BLORCH!
"Ummm. This is Rockin' Ricky Rialto saying goodbye
while I run to save my ass. This radio broadcast is a
trademark of BTCH and may not be recorded or
re-broadcasted with or without the expressed written
permission of BTCH. Soon to be available on cassette."
Through the barking tones of "We Wish You a Merry
Christmas," screams of pain and moans of the undead
blared through along with crashes and various other sounds
betraying carnage. Rand reluctantly ( He had been
enjoying the screams so much. He was just glad that they
weren't his. ) turned the radio off. He glanced back and
began rapping his fist against the rear windshield.
Apparently, he tapped too hard because the glass soon gave
way. After allowing sufficient time for the glass to
settle and the pain to leave his hand, Rand said, "Hey,
Son. Are you two alright back there." Kate was just fine
admonishing her savior, but something was terribly wrong
with Billy and he didn't know how to tell Rand. BLORCH!
Several seconds earlier, a mysterious hole had been
ripped open in the fabric of time and space. Through this
nexus, a bolt of quantum energy surged forth. Exiting the
rift, it just happened to strike Billy Peltzer. In that
brief instant, something horrifying was revealed to him.
The song YMCA was not written until 1979, yet it was his
father's favorite song. Something horribly wrong had
occurred and he knew, eventually, that he would have to
set it straight. But first, he would have to survive this
night. This splinter of time also affected other people
in other times and other planets. It is responsible for
many of the odd things that happen to many people. The
sheer oddity of this fact made Billy shortly fall asleep.
BLORCH!
"Son. Son, wake up," Billy heard his father's voice
calling to him through the mists of sleep. "It's about
time you woke up. We made it to the hospital. Mrs.
Feldman gave birth to a healthy baby boy." Billy shook
the lingering effects of slumber off of him and looked
around. Several police cars encircled the building.
Officers bearing the badges of the Hazzard County
Sheriff's Patrol guarded all the entrances into the
hospital. Billy looked quizzically up at his father. "The
cops in Hazzard care more about human life than they do in
Kingston Falls." Billy slowly sat up. "We got her safely
to the hospital then?" Rand frowned. "Weren't you
listening just now? That's just what I said, idiot!" The
word idiot reminded Billy that that was what he was, just
like his father. "Then what are we doing sitting around
and letting our asses go to sleep? Let's get busy! I've
got a race to destroy!" He grabbed hold of Rand's rifle,
leapt from the back of Mrs. Feldman's truck, winced in
pain again, and ran back in the direction of Kingston
Falls. "Son, wait again!" Rand called for his fools, all
three. "Fran! Whatever your name was! Get in the truck!
We have to go after Billy again!" Fran and
what's-her-name climbed back into the truck. Rand turned
the ignition, but the truck just groaned. He tried again,
but this time the car began to hum "The Star-spangled
Banner." He tried a third time, and the truck burst into
flames! BLORCH!
"Okay, everybody. The truck's motor is on fire.
Calmly exit the vehicle." Rand, Fran, and what's-her-name
just barely got out and clear of the vehicle before it
exploded. They quickly regained themselves and ran after
Billy. The explosion destroyed all of the police cars in
the area and most of their officers. Roaming zombies at
last gained entrance into the hospital. Doctors,
patients, and corpses ran, walked, hobbled, levitated, and
wheeled their way out of the building. One nurse was
pushing a hospital bed in front of her. On that bed, Mrs.
Feldman cuddled her baby boy in her arms as she lay
recovering from labor. BLORCH!
The explosion did not go unnoticed. Nearby, a band
of mad, Bavarian Cossacks rolled into the city limits on
their motorcycles. As with any sort of civil emergency,
looters are the first to capitalize on it because, well,
that's what looters do. Their leader, Umlaut, gazed
gleefully at the burning police cars through his field
goggles. "Gentlemen," he said. "Below us is a crop ripe
for the plucking." He turned his vision to the adjoining
town. "This is very interesting. It looks oddly enough
like Pittsburgh when the zombies invaded. We haven't
eaten that well in ages." The words were unspoken but
true. "Okay. It's decided then. We will once again
assume the roles of Vikings and Visigoths and loot the
town of-" Umlaut consulted his watch. "-Kingston Falls!"
BLORCH!
By now, Billy had become a virtual tornado of
destruction. He had begun a campaign that could only end
with the destruction of every last zombie in Kingston
Falls. "To hell with the other cities!" he shouted,
defying the heavens as he slew another small group of
zombies. Eventually, the tired forms of Rand, Fran, and
Kate caught up with the blazing death that Billy had
become. "Son, you must stop this!" Rand pleaded. "The
police and army can handle these things." "THE POLICE AND
THE ARMY!" Billy shouted. "They're a bunch of
shit-heads, ineffectual, doltish slugs who would rather
lay around and drink coffee and have the citizens do their
jobs for them!" He spun around and disposed of an
approaching ghoul. Rand tried to reason with his son.
"There are too many of them! You can't possibly win."
Billy spun back around and grabbed the collar of his
father's shirt. Raising Rand's rifle above his head, he
shouted, "I CAN DO IT, DAMN YOU! There is NOTHING that I
can't do! I HAVE THE POWER!" Suddenly, a bolt of
lighting came out of the blue and struck his gun. BLORCH!
One minute, the insane form of Billy Peltzer stood
before Rand. The next minute, a large, husking, muscular
he-man stood before him. "Oh, no! Not again!" Billy
shouted to no one in particular. "I thought we agreed
that this wouldn't happen again. Oh, well." Temporarily
resolving to deal with his power later, Billy dropped the
now molten rifle and hurled himself into the wave of
approaching zombies. BLORCH!
Using his newfound power, Billy tore through zombie
after zombie. Thrusting his hands into decaying flesh,
Billy tore open their stomachs and wrenched their spleens
out. The scream of his mother made him pause to look up.
A zombie was slowly advancing on her. He threw his body
at the monster and tore it apart. That was when Fran
noticed it for the first time. She had detected it
before, but she couldn't quite place it. First, she
noticed her son was a blithering idiot. Second, she
placed that strange brew\odor that emanated from dead ( if
you could really call killing someone who was already dead
dead ) zombies as the wonderfully intoxicating smell of
baking bread. "You alright, Mom." It wasn't a question.
"Yes. I'm fine, but you don't look so well." Fran was
right. Billy had begun to shake. Suddenly, that bolt
from the blue returned and took Billy's powers away from
him. BLORCH!
Billy stared at his smoking just-pubescent form. The
scorch marks on the concrete intrigued him momentarily,
but his true feelings finally won out. "Wonderful, guys!
What an appropriate time to take my powers away! Do you
guys get some kind of masochistic glee from jerking my
chain?!" Seizing the opportunity, the zombies slowly
closed in on the group of humans. "Umm, son. This isn't
going well." Billy reached down to pick up the rifle, but
all that was left was a pool molten metal, a vestige to
their soon-to-be-ended lives. Billy, Rand, Fran, and Kate
began backing away from the advancing dead. A sharp pain
invaded Fran's back. "What?!" she shrieked in pain as
she spun around to see whence the pain came. It came from
a nail sticking out of a fence, a fence that blocked their
retreat! Fran spun back around to see that the others had
discovered the same thing. In unison, they all spun back
around, Fran having to do it twice since she was already
facing the zombies. All they could do was say their
prayers as the group of creatures advanced. This was it!
Billy had lost his super powers and the gun was gone.
Nothing could save them now! A three-fingered pincer
burst its way through the wooden fence. BLORCH!
"MOVE!" Rand shouted as he and the other(s) dove out
of the way. The pincer was followed by a robotic arm.
This robotic arm rested in a spherical control cabin
mounted on a set of tank treads. These treads carried the
whole apparatus forward, crushing several zombies under
their metal power. It thrust itself through the others
that remained. It stopped and the cabin slowly spun
around to face Billy and the others. A door opened in its
side, and an oddly dressed man stepped out. "Oh, my God!"
Rand yelled in disbelief. "MISTER FUTTERMAN!" Mrs.
Futterman followed her husband out. Seeing the grimace on
her husband's face, she ran to him and tried to calm him
down. She looked up to face Rand. "You see, when he's
inventing and\or driving his newest invention, he likes to
called Speed Racer." "I'm a demon and I'll be chasing
after someone! Go, Speed Racer! Go, Speed Racer! Go,
Speed Racer, goooooooo!" A sound made Mister Fu- er,
Speed Racer, spin around. More zombies had come to
replenish the ranks. "OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!" he said
Japanese-animationly. "Quick everyone! Into the Mach
Factoid!" He had toyed around earlier with what to call
his latest invention. Rejecting Mach Five, Mock Five, and
Factoid, he finally decided to combine the ideas that his
wife hated most and called it the Mach Factoid. Mrs.
Futterman preferred to call it the Mock Factoid. Everyone
piled into the Factoid. Mister Futterman brought the
turbines up to speed and the Factoid lurched forward.
"Okay, we've made our lucky escape," Rand commented. "But
now, where do we go?" It was Fran who had the answer. "I
think we can find some answers at the High Rise Bakery and
Leather Goods." BLORCH!
The Factoid chugged along. Fran, Rand, and Kate sat
in the back seat while Mister and Mrs. Futterman and Billy
sat up front. Mister Futterman slipped one of those funky
looking cassettes into the 8-track player. Bohemian
Rhapsody began blaring through the intricate series of
stereo speakers rigged along the roof of the Factoid.
Everyone began bopping and thrashing to Bohemian Rhapsody.
Everyone joined in on, "Beelezebub has a devil put aside
for me, for me, FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Everyone in the
Factoid began thrusting their heads forward and then
pulling them back in time with the music. So, everyone
was jamming to Bohemian Rhapsody on the way to High Rise
Bakery and Leather Goods hoping to find some answers.
"Wow! I can't believe how comfortable this odd looking
contraption is!" "Of course, it is!" Speed Racer said
disgusted and insulted. "I can invent things." Rand hung
his head down in shame. "I can't believe the wonderful
sound system you've installed," Billy stroked Mister
Futterman's ego. "Why, thank you, Billy. You see, the
secret is the little tribe of elves." He opened a small
panel in the arm rest next to his wife. Inside, a small
troupe of Keebler elves was tied down. They could move
just enough to manipulate the instruments and repeat the
same music and vocals that came from the 8-track player.
Billy cleared his head a little by repeatedly banging it
against the side window. Slowly and quite painfully,
Billy was regaining some semblance of his sanity. BLORCH!
"Hey, Mister F. This thing is the coolest!" Kate
fed Mister Futterman's ego too, despite the sign in the
window saying, "Do not feed the ego." "I'm surprised no
one has made an offer for this thing yet." "Ah, but they
have, my dear. I've gotten offers from a Mrs. Meg A. Tron
and a Mr. B. L. Zebub." He wondered why that sounded so
odd and then wondered why he had said such an odd thing in
the first place. What Mister Futterman did not know was
that a strange force from the future was acting on the
time stream, so what may seem as odd or out of place is
the fault of- Hee, hee! Thought I was going to tell you,
eh? "I wonder why I said such an odd thing in the first
place," Mister Futterman commented, returning us to the
story. "Well, never mind that now," Fran called from the
back seat. "Take us to High Rise." "Yes, madam," Mister
Futterman answered and then hung up the phone. BLORCH!
The Factoid clanked to a halt in front of the now
darkly quiet stoop leading to the entrance of High Rise
Baking and Leather Goods. Its rattling brought scattered
pockets of zombies toward the double doors. The Factoid's
access panel swung open and Billy, Rand, and Fran sprung
out and dashed towards the door, only to find- "IT'S
LOCKED!" "Fran! Fish out your illegally made copy of the
keys and open this damn door!" By the time Fran had found
her keys and opened the door, zombies were closing in on
them and Kate had finally gotten out of the Factoid. As
she ran towards the doors, Rand and Fran slipped through
the double doors after Billy. They turned and peered
through the slit at the approaching Kate. "Well, should
we wait for her?" "You know Billy's feelings, Rand. He
has no use for her love and she'd just be a liability."
With that, they turned, grinned an evil grin, and slammed
the door in Kate's horrified face. Her eyes widened when
she heard the lock bolt click into place. Not even
bothering to believe in what she saw, Kate turned and ran
back towards the Factoid, zombies in pursuit. Just as she
came to the open access panel, it shut. "Damn
liabilities!" Mister Futterman cursed as he put the
Factoid in gear and drove away. Kate turned and stared at
the zombies which were a mere few feet away. Her heart
began to race. Spying an opening, she turned and ran,
screaming as zombies gave chase. BLORCH!
Inside the plant, Rand, Fran, and Billy cautiously
made their way along the dark, silent, steel corridors.
"Um, honey," Rand began. "No thanks," Fran answered.
Rand waited a few minutes before he continued. "Why are
we here?" "Back when Billy was berserk and slaughtering
those foul abominations left and right, I noticed a very
familiar smell emanating from the destroyed creatures. It
was the intoxicating odor of alcohol breaking down in
baking bread." Rand's eyes widened. "I KNEW I HAD
SMELLED IT SOMEWHERE BEFORE!" "So, I figured that our
research division is responsible for this evil." "Wait,
Fran. It's MY fault." "WHAT?" "Yes. Through my idiocy,
I caused a nuclear spill." We know better though, don't
we, Billy. "It can't be! The smell of baking bread gives
it away! And, we were in the process of creating the
ultimate strain of yeast! Remember, the radio report
mentioned that these things were contaminated with a new
form of yeast-like bacteria." "He's right, Mom. I've
blamed him myself." "But, remember that Kent guy said
there were latent traces of radiation on the bodies of the
zombies." "Well, I still say-" Fran's words were
interrupted by a scratching sound from a nearby room.
BLORCH!
Ever so carefully, Rand opened the door. They had to
be cautious. They had no weapons and it looked like Billy
wasn't going to regain his super strength any time soon.
It just wasn't in the cards. Inside, a short man was
slumped over a desk, sobbing. He rose quickly at the
light suddenly bursting into the room. "Doctor Cossack!"
Fran cried. "What are you doing here?" Tears welled up
in the good doctor's eyes as he began his catharsis. "It's
all my fault! In the quest for the betterment of all
mankind, I may have doomed it! Hope! HOPE! It's all MY
fault!" "NOW HOLD IT!" Rand shouted, coming to the front
of the group. "It's MY fault, damn you!" and he slugged
Doctor Cossack, who promptly buried his head in his hands
and resumed crying. "Was that really necessary, Dad?"
"Nope. But it made me feel a hell of a lot better." They
made their way out the back door of the office that they
had just entered, leaving the man to his sorrow. BLORCH!
The small group of assembled idiots made their way
along more of those metal corridors. "Once again, Fran.
Where are we headed?" "I don't know where WE'RE heading,
but I'm heading for the R and D complex located in
sector-" Once again, Fran's words were interrupted. The
clanging of metal on metal filled the corridors, followed
by something scratching along the metal. The horrible
sounds filled Rand, Fran, and Billy with fear. "We'd
better hurry along," Billy urged. BLORCH!
Eventually, the trio reached a large steel door with
a plaque welded into its center saying "PRIVATE PROPERTY!
BEWARE OF THE EXPERIMENTS!" "How do we open it?" Fran
fished out her big key ring. "Well, one of these 78 keys
fits the lock. The problem is I don't which one! I knew
I should have labeled them." "GIVE ME THOSE DAMN KEYS,
WOMAN!" Rand shouted and snatched the ring from his
wife's hand. He thumbed a key off of the ring and tried
it in the lock. "Nope. Not this one." He tried again.
Nothing. He tried again, this time with a different key.
"No." Rand finally learned; he tried a new key on each
turn. A human scream made Rand look up. Footsteps were
heard running along the scaffolding over their heads,
along with the slow, plodding thumps of the living dead.
Another scream rang out along with the gut-wrenching sound
of human flesh being torn apart. You know, that all too
familiar BLORCH! Do not turn the page yet. Blood poured
down through the spaces in the scaffolding and bathed
Fran's face and clothes. She creamed, excuse me, screamed
in horror. Now turn the page. BLORCH!
Doctor Cossack came running down the staircase. "They
got Bobsen!" "The main director of research!" Fran
called back through her blood stained lips. "GET THAT
DOOR OPEN!" Cossack shouted as he joined Rand's party.
"I'm trying! I'm trying! Let's see. Number 67. No.
Number 68. Nope. Number 69. No. My wife doesn't go in
for things like that. Oh, it's also the wrong key." "Get
going, dolt! They're coming!" Zombies rounded the bottom
of the stairs and advanced on the humans, moaning and
growling in their unearthly way. Fran spun and stared in
awed terror at the zombies. "Number 76. No. Number 77.
No. Number 78!" CLICK! "You know, it's true what they
say about you always finding something in the last place
you look." "C'mon, fool!" Billy called, scooping up his
father and scrambling through the door. Rand noticed that
Fran hadn't come through the doors yet. He turned and
noticed his wife, frozen in fear at the sight of the
living dead. Technicians in white lab smocks covered with
blood advanced on the frightened woman. Thoughts of food
filled their instinctive little minds. She was gasping
with fright as they approached, hands out stretched for
their meal. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of
them. Her heart almost burst. Her breathing became
labored. For some odd reason, her nipples became erect.
They were all around her! "Come on! COME ON!" Rand was
shouting at his wife, motioning her to follow! "Follow!
Quickly! Run! RUN!" She began to scream as clawed,
decaying hands began to reach for her.
Well, we're nearing the end of this series. It could have
been better. Hopefully, it will get better. But before
it can get better, it will get worse. At least, Billy is
better. Stir in three egg yolks into the better, I mean,
batter. It looks like Fran may be in trouble. Will she
die? Of course she won't! You all know she can't die!
She has to be around for the other stories. Would I lie to
you? Then, who dies in the next and last story of this
series, as I've predicted. Who will die? "I can tell
you." Kreskin?! Who invited you? Go away! "But I CAN
tell you. After all, I'm here. I'll amaze you! The
person who dies in the next story is- AHRACK!" Don't
worry, folks. Kreskin will recover from that road flare
being thrust down his throat in time for his next gig. Be
here next time. I'll amaze you with Night of the Living
Dead: Rewritten V \ Dawn of the Dead.
Night of the Living Dead: Rewritten IV \ Billy Goes
Berserk @1993 by David Minter. Based on the movie Night
of the Living Dead @1968 by Image Ten Productions, the
concept of the Book and Record Set @1984 by Buena Vista
Records, Night of the Living Dead: Rewritten \ Something
Dead this Way Comes @1993 by David Minter, Night of the
Living Dead: Rewritten II \ Guess Who's Coming to Dinner
@1993 by David Minter, and Night of the Living Dead:
Rewritten III \ From Here to Insanity.
Night of the Living Dead @1968, 1984, 1986, 1988, 1989,
1990, 1992, 1993 by Image Ten Productions and George
Romero, John Russo, and Russ Streiner.
Buena Vista Records is a subsidiary of Walt Disney.
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