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Return of the Living Dead: Rewritten III \ THEY'R
"Return of the Living Dead: Rewritten III \ THEY'RE
BAAAAAACK!"
Written by David Minter.
Finished 3-18-95.
Based on the movies "Return of the Living Dead" @1984 by
Orion Pictures Corporation which is based on the film
"Night of the Living Dead" @1968 by Image Ten Productions,
"Return of the Living Dead Part II" @1988 by Orion
Pictures Corporation, and "Return of the Living Dead III"
@1993 by Trimark Pictures, the concept of the Book and
Record Set @1984 by Buena Vista Records, material from the
collected works of "Gremlins: Rewritten," "Critters:
Rewritten," "Gremlins II: Rewritten," "Night of the Living
Dead: Rewritten," "Bionic Commando: Rewritten," and "Star
Wars: Rewritten" @1991, 1992, 1993, and 1994, all by David
Minter, "Return of the Living Dead: Rewritten \ Old
Friends," @1994 by David Minter, and "Return of the Living
Dead: Rewritten II \ A United Front" @1995 by David
Minter.
This is the story of "Return of the Living Dead: Rewritten
III \ THEY'RE BAAAAAACK!" You can read along with me in
your book. You will know it is time to turn the page when
you hear the zombie shout, "BRAINS!" Let's begin... now!
Remember to turn the page every time you hear the sound.
BRAINS!
Last time you will recall, if you can bring your
tortured memory to pull it up that is, Dr. Igottcha
Cossack, after quitting his position at Research and
Development for Chump Towers, now headed by Kate Peltzer,
found work on a research project for the United States
Army. Professor Baxter Stockman, Dr. Cossack's
replacement, came upon some of the work of would-be world
tyrant, Dr. Wily, and has taken it upon himself to
complete the good doctor's work. Meanwhile, Dr. Cossack
has been paired with one General Montgomery Wilson at a
military installation in Louisville, Kentucky which was
working on a special project, dubbed Afterlife, to recycle
the zombies produced by one of Dr. Cossack's mistaken
experiments for the betterment of mankind. General
Wilson's idea was to incorporate captured ghouls from
Kingston Falls' night of the living dead into a special
robotic system, creating the ultimate super soldier.
However, greedy senators from Washington have sent down
Lieutenant Morgan to lead the project in a new direction
to save money. The lieutenant has his own secret behind
working on Project: Afterlife, and wouldn't you like to
know what that secret is? You would, wouldn't you? I
know you would like to know. So, just read on... BRAINS!
The prayer had been said. The button had been
pressed. But, the radio didn't let us know that this had
been a test. However, it was in fact a test, a test of
the new robotized zombies from Kingston Falls. The
activation sequence had been entered, but the subject
refused to rise from the operating table\gurney that it
had been placed upon. The white sheet draped over the
experiment hadn't even twitched an inched, um, 7 inches,
ER, AN INCH! General Wilson eyed the perturbed looks of
the delegates gathered to witness the results of their
branch of the government's work. Already various strings
of texts were being uttered by them: "I can't believe it!"
"THIS is the experiment that we were supposed to be so
anxious to see the results of?" "This is garbage! We
blew 3 billion dollars in gold and silver and precious
gems and basket weavers who sit and smile and twiddle
their thumbs and toes for THIS?" "I could be writing my
next memoir if it wasn't for this!" Wilson waltzed over
to Dr. Cossack, side-swiping a basket weaver in the
process. BRAINS!
"What the hell is the matter with it, Cossack?! It's
not moving. You told me you could get it to work!"
"Preliminary neurochemical tests showed the zombies would
be receptive to the endoskeletal implants." Dr. Cossack
pressed the return button, the <ENTER> key for those of
you out there who are computer impaired, again. "I can't
see why it's not-" He began thumbing the button
repeatedly, and no, that was not a sexual reference. By
now, the general had taken Dr. Cossack's lapels into his
hands. "You'd better get that monstrosity working! We
don't want Congress to dump our project in favor of-" The
general turned his head towards the sheet-shrouded table
as an unearthly moan rose from behind him! BRAINS!
The gathered audience watched on, agape, agasp, and
stunned as the sheet slowly rose from the table and
gradually assumed the shape of a tall, Cubistic man. Dr.
Cossack's fingers ran across his keyboard. "Hmmm. It
seems the LAN was temporarily down for a system event. It
must have just come back on l-" His words were cut short
as the zombie moaned even louder than before as a metal
covered hand reached from beneath the sheet to pull it
away! What was revealed made everyone in the room
watching jump in wretched, revolting horror! BRAINS!
As such, I'll shift the focus away from the action
like I always do in order to build up a sufficient level
of suspense. Dr. Wright examined the last printed circuit
before placing it on the board. What a masterful
deception he pulled off! Give it to the Smithsonian, his
ass! Even if Dr. Wily was gone, the system could be used
for manual labor. If this worked, he would have created
the ultimate in mechanical systems, the next generation of
robot: generation X! A slight movement in the corner of
his eye caught his attention. He looked up from his work
and took notice of the small man walking into his
laboratory. Dr. Wright jumped back as a wild eyed
Professor Stockman waltzed into the room. His height, his
mannerism, the way he walked, he way he carried himself as
he entered into the room, it reminded him so much of-
"Professor! W-what are you doing here?" Baxter held up a
computer disk. "I need to use your VAX for a moment.
Mine is... down at the moment." Wright wiped his brow,
relieved that Baxter wasn't trying anything funny.
"Sure." He snatched the disk from Baxter's hand. "I'll
have to run it through virus checking first though.
Standard policy." Dr. Wright turned his back on Stockman
and approached his terminal. Baxter reached over the
workbench that Dr. Wright had been working on and snatched
up a socket wrench. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that,
Doctor." Due to his diminutive size, Baxter was forced to
brandish the wrench against Dr. Wright's kidneys, rather
painfully actually. The pain and stunned shock at having
been attacked in the kidneys made Dr. Wright stumble
forward, banging his head on the edge of the desk.
Professor Stockman carefully stepped over Dr. Wright's
prone, unconscious body and picked up his disk that had
flown from Wright's hand. He stepped over Wright's body
again and approached the terminal. He inserted the disk
and began typing, accessing Dr. Wright's project
repository. BRAINS!
You know what, you all don't like me. You never
have! The metal-clad hand released the sheet it was
clutching tightly to. The grotesque creation stood up
from the operating table. The partially devoured,
partially decayed corpse was contained within a mesh of
metal tubing. A square harness piece was fixated on its
chest and torso. Two metal rods came up from a collar
about the neck and were attached to a bit, not unlike one
used on a horse, that was forced into the mouth to prevent
any sort of biting injuries, just in case. From the
shoulders, three metal tubes spaced evenly apart from each
other ran down the length of the arms and legs. Round
disc joints were situated at the shoulders, elbows,
wrists, hips, knees, and ankles to provide complete
freedom of movement, and even a cool kung-fu grip! At the
wrists, metal clamps ran around each one, extending five
metal tubes over the fingers. Discs were situated about
the knuckles as well. A similar rigging was constructed
about the feet. Wires and hoses ran down, around, in
between, and through the metal tubes all over its body.
Lastly, a small box was affixed to its back. This box was
the central processing unit for the creature. From the
box, a long length of thick wire ran up to the right of
its head, where it disappeared into a hole there. A
similar setup was installed into its spleen. A metal rod
was lodged into its brain, completing the controlling
circuit. If you're having difficulty visualizing the
monster based on my text, rent "Return of the Living Dead
III," from which I stole the idea for this creature, and
see for yourself what it somewhat looks like. The
creature was being controlled from Dr. Cossack's computer.
Or so that was what he had believed! BRAINS!
Without warning, the metal monstrosity dashed towards
the gathered senators, governors, and other assorted
delegates from the Pentagon. Muttering something about
cheese danishes and world domination ( The malfunctioning
computerized outfit had somehow augmented the zombie's
intelligence. Go figure! ), it had its hands out,
desperate to get its claws on some human flesh. The
innate character of the ghoul beneath the metal was
surfacing! By now, General Wilson was clutching at Dr.
Cossack's throat in desperation! "DO SOMETHING! BEFORE
IT DESTROYS ALL MY HOPES OF ENDING THIS PROJECT!" "I-
ACK!- I find th-that a might dif- huff- difficult to do
with you throttling me like- THIS!" Dr. Cossack wormed
his way free and resumed punching his keypad... literally!
The general was so worried about the resurgence of the
zombies that he hadn't even realized that Cossack was gone
and was still wringing his hands together in a mock
choking motion, uttering commands at no one. "GET IT TO
OBEY! NOW!" Apparently, Dr. Cossack's attempts at
regaining control of the creature must have accomplished
something. It began to resume its demonstrative
programming. As per the code entered into it previously,
the roboticized zombie went over to a table and removed a
rifle that had been placed upon it for the occasion.
BRAINS!
In its own horrific parodies of human motion, the
creature loaded the rifle. It was finally starting to
obey. "This is good!" Dr. Cossack beamed with success.
The zombie then brought it to bear over the heads of the
gathered delegates and fired into the plaster in the roof
above. It then began spinning around. Cossack ducked a
salvo stream that found its way into the monitor of his
terminal. He stood back up and surveyed the damage to his
system, which he had nicknamed Charlie seeing as how the
only friend he had made while at the base was General
Wilson. "This is NOT so good!" The creature stopped,
twirled the rifle clutched in its hands about, almost
brought it up to his shoulder, and saluted the delegates.
There was a loud whir and the creation's limbs fell
loosely at its sides. It's torso slumped forward. The
thing had become deactivated on its feet. BRAINS!
The frightened congressmen, et al, crawled out from
the woodwork that they had used for cover. Dr. Cossack
straightened his tie and cleared his throat. "Um, there
was a slight problem with the network. While booting the
zombie systems on line, the server temporarily shut itself
down for a maintenance event. The system became...
confused. There weren't supposed to be two separate
genetic patterns. No, wait. Wrong horror remake. There
weren't supposed to be two separate instructions going
into it: one to carry out the predetermined demonstration
instructions we gave it and one to shut down. So, the
entire system ceased, and the latent bacteria stored in
its yeast took over and it resumed its... quest for food.
It's partly my fault, actually. I should have informed
the network operator that we had scheduled a test at this
time." General Wilson stepped in to try and cover both of
their butts. "Just give us until tomorrow, and we'll have
a suitable demonstration ready." "As soon as we inform
the network server, of course." The head of the gathered
delegates spoke for the gathered lot. "Well, while it did
endanger our lives and create a general mess of the room,
it's worth it if you can keep this silly project at as low
an overhead as possible." Lieutenant Morgan, who had been
witnessing the whole debacle with the gathered audience,
bolted upright at that revelation. BRAINS!
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE CONTEMPLATING THIS!" he
shouted, subconsciously ironically re-iterating what
General Wilson had voiced earlier in that now literary
classic "Return of the Living Dead: Rewritten I." "You
saw what that... THING nearly did!" he said, gesturing at
the still saluting cyborg zombie. "It nearly went
berserk! It could have slaughtered everyone in here and
then proceed to destroy the entire base!" "Now, now,
Lieutenant, sir," Wilson chided him playfully, like the
cat in the hat who had just caught the rat on the mat.
"Aren't we getting just a trifle melodramatic? Such
histrionics are unbecoming of you." Stifled giggles
erupted from the gathered delegates. Morgan dropped his
hands, now clenched in fists. General Schwartzkopf
stepped forward. "I think we've seen enough to warrant a
second test under more desirable conditions." "But-"
"After all," Schwartzkopf interrupted him. "Project
Afterlife, if it can be met on budget, is far less
expensive than your Project: Reunion." Once again Morgan
had been humiliated in front of his superiors. Once
again, his ideas were scoffed at, his torture mocked. No
one cared, no one ever cared that every day was sheer hell
since- "All right, people!" Morgan suddenly announced
into the room. "But the blame will be on your hands!" He
promptly stomped out of the room. "I wonder what he meant
by that," Schwartzkopf said over his shoulder to Wilson.
"I wonder what you're doing here." Schwartzkopf spun
around to face Wilson. "What do you mean?" "You're
retired. What are you doing here then?" Schwartzkopf put
a hand to his chin and thought. "Hmmmm. I hadn't thought
of that!" he calmly said and promptly vanished into thin
air, leaving a stunned General Wilson behind.
Interestingly enough, no one else in the room saw the
strange disappearance, mainly because when something has
disappeared, one no longer sees it. BRAINS!
Wilson angrily stormed down a causeway and into his
quarters. As if he meant to physically abuse the door on
his way in, and he did, he slammed it shut with such
alacrity that, had it had a voice, it would have
complained, which it did. Remember, the security controls
on the base are computer controlled. Wilson latched the
door securely shut behind him and went over to the
networked computer terminal set up in his room. He
accessed the project repository of Afterlife and entered
his full access code. After all, he was chief
appropriations officer for the project. In effect, it was
his project. After all, he had started the experiments
for one reason alone... "That Russian scientist and stupid
general! Thinking that they could keep me away from you!
They all laugh at me and my loneliness! All alone, little
Lieutenant! They never cared! But I've found the way...
MYSELF!" He entered the search strings he felt would
yield the best results. He found them under "ISOLATION"
"CHEMICAL" and "REACTIVATION." In less than an hour, he
had read through the text and a single name was burning
brightly back at him from the CRT, the name of a
particular IUPAC carbon bond molecule. "Two-four-five
Trioxin!" BRAINS!
DAY 6:
It was cold on the night of October 30, 1994. A
figure bound tightly in nice, warm, snugly clothes
approached the Army base's chemical stockpile warehouse.
The female officer on duty stopped him and asked for his
identification. She stood at attention, saluted the
lieutenant, and held the door open for him. He stepped
into the brightly lit metal bivouac and stopped. Slowly
he turned and said to her, with a slightly evil tone in
his voice, "Why don't you come on in? It's cold out
tonight. YOU MUST BE KILLED! Uh, I mean chilled."
Despite the rather odd exchange, the woman followed the
lieutenant's advice. She felt she'd better, especially
after the spectacle she had made of herself in front of
higher brass when she, or rather her boyfriend, was caught
with her\his pants down. She stepped into the physical
warmth of the building as well as the mental warmth. This
was her first time inside the chemical stockpiles. It was
toasty warm inside, but her hair was standing on end due
to the excitement. BRAINS!
There were many varied and classified compounds
contained within the walls of Fort Jenson. Just the
thought of being with those drums was making her feel
sexually excited. After Hanna Barbera's shift was
relieved, she would have to hunt down Private Jamskely and
relieve him of his duty, himself, and herself as well.
The lieutenant had noticed the look of awe of the
private's face. "Yes, they are impressive, aren't they?
Now then, would you please help me find the drums labeled
exactly like this?" He held up the piece of paper with
"2-4-5 Trioxin" written on it. The private read the paper
and picked up the inventory clipboard from a nearby desk.
Upon its pages was a catalog of all the toxins that were
in the shed. "Here. Bay 14." She led the lieutenant
past the rows of drums and up to bay 14. Along the way,
they passed drums containing samples of yellow fever,
Agent Orange, Agent Beige, Agent Chartreuse, Talent Agent,
Mortaxian Aliens, the Blob, lesbians, and Sonny Bono.
"There," she said, pointing to the drums in question.
"Well?!" the lieutenant questioned with consternation.
"Bring one of the barrels down here!" She wondered what
had caused the sudden change in his disposition, but she
didn't question it. ( What? I think now might be a good
time to turn the page and let the writer sort that one
out. ) BRAINS!
She went over to a front dock loader and drove it
into position. The lieutenant stood out of the way as she
picked out a barrel and brought it down to the floor. She
stepped out of the loader and examined the barrel to make
sure its seal was still intact. After all, the lieutenant
could go blazes, and to blazes, but she wasn't about to
endanger her own hide. Then, she noticed it! "Sir!
These barrels mustn't be opened!" "And why is that?"
Morgan asked as he wormed his way over to the loader and
slid the tire iron from its back into his hand. "Well for
one, it says it mustn't be opened, and there is some sort
of keypad on the side. You'll need the correct numeric
combination to open the drum." Morgan cradled the head of
the tire iron in his hand. "Why, no problem. I've got it
right here!" Quickly he raised the tire iron above his
head and brought it down into the back of the private's
head in a montage to "City of the Walking Dead." However,
since he was not a blood-thirsty zombie, his strength
wasn't sufficient enough to drive it through her skull and
into her brains with the appropriate gooey and squishing
sounds as the blood squirts gratuitously and copiously.
Instead, the private fell forward, stumbled about a bit,
rolled around, and came to stop several feet away from the
drum, unconscious ( The private and not the drum. ).
Morgan grinned devilishly. "As I said, 'I've got the
key!'" He raised the tire iron once more and brought it
into the clear plate set into the top of the drum.
BRAINS!
The glass shattered. Splinters fell about. The
special gas holding the corpse inside in stasis escaped
into the room. Working quickly, Morgan pulled the
canister out of his pocket and held it above the geyser of
dissipating gas. He turned the valve open and began
collecting some samples. Over the years of being held in
check by the paralyzing gases within the drum, the corpses
had begun to deteriorate. The decaying flesh gave up the
amazing chemical properties or reanimation granted it by
the mutant yeast unto the paralyzing gas. Over the years,
the two substances had begun to congeal into a brand new
compound, 2-4-5 trioxin! Morgan sealed the canister shut
and clutched it to his chest. Soon they would be rejoined
in the bonds of holy matrimony once again! "They tried to
keep us apart, and at last they have finally failed! HA,
HAAAAAAAAAA!" Morgan shoved the canister back into his
pocket and dashed out of the building. He made his way to
his chambers and locked the doors behind him. He leaned
against the door and quickly caught his breath. He then
slowly turned with triumph to the large object covered
with a sheet towards the back of his room... Back in the
chemical compound, a withered hand emerged from the
compromised canister. The drum shook from left to right
as unearthly grunts emanated forth from it. It finally
tumbled over, spilling its contents out onto the linoleum.
Shaking, it stood up; the last of the paralyzing gas had
escaped into the air! It stumbled over to the reviving
private in front of it. BRAINS!
It was cold and lonely outside that night. Private
Jamskely was performing his guard duty as he did every
night at this time. However, this night was different.
As a result of being caught in his lecherous activities
from earlier, he was being made to keep watch over the
mess hall. The interesting thing is that a mess hall does
not need to be guarded. He was put to guarding one of the
windows, facing it so that he could look at the rest of
the men eating as his eating privileges had been taken
from him for that evening. All he could do was drool as
he stared through the window, his breath steaming the
glass and his stomach roaring its jealousy. There was a
sudden rustle of leaves behind him. If you are someone's
girlfriend, or if you're one of this silly squeamish
types, or a party pooper or just a damn fool who doesn't
like the direction this story is going then skip the next
paragraph and slide a live piranha down your throat.
BRAINS!
Jamskely spun around to face the intruder. A woman's
form greeted him, followed by her hand lovingly running
over his groin. He looked up into the mystery woman's
face. The light coming from the window illuminated the
left side and he was overjoyed to see it was his love's,
Hanna. Her shift finally ended! He thought, "You know
what. I'm suddenly not hungry now... for food anyway."
It was also not as cold for some odd reason. The sound of
metal against metal ripped, or rather zipped I add
punningly, through the air as his pants were drawn down to
his ankles. The rest came away and eins, zwei, drei,
fier, funf, sechs, und sieben sprang to life. ( Oh, boy!
Only two of you out there can really appreciate this
biting pun! ) The roving hand that had once been outside
was now over the exposed skin, and as you can guess,
Jamskely relished in it. He flung his head back as his
jaw fell open and a low moan escaped from it. The low
moan was suddenly magnified ten thousand times as
superhuman strength enabled fingernails to pierce through
flesh! Blood poured down onto the ground and mixed with
the dirt there as the organ was torn from the rest of the
body. The other hand reached into the gaping wound and
began pulling out various ducts and things! ( HA, HAAAAA!
I FINALLY GOT YOU WITH THAT ONE! :> )
Cutlery fell onto metal plates as the eating soldiers
inside the mess hall heard the agonized shout. They
rushed to the window from where the scream had ushered and
the horrible sight greeted them. There was what could
have once passed for a woman. Her shirt was torn open to
reveal the remnants of one of her breasts dangling down
into space. She was standing over what appeared to be the
dead body of another private with his privates missing.
The question about where the private's privates had gone
was clearly answered as the strange monstrous female
brought a strange, bloody mass of lumps up to her mouth
and began to devour bits of it. A hole had been torn open
in one of her cheeks so a lot of the eaten flesh simply
plopped back down onto the ground. It didn't take long
for the soldiers to muster up their wits and grab their
guns; a special rack was set up next to the spice rack in
the mess hall for the trainees' weapons. They gunned
their- NO! They cocked their guns and dashed out into the
darkness to meet the intruder upon the sanctity of their
evening meal. BRAINS!
The first soldier was met with a cold, dead hand on
his wrist. He paused from the surprise, giving the zombie
Hanna time to tear into his hand with her newfound
strength. He screamed and drew his hand back as his
life's blood began leaking out. His weapon fell to the
ground and fired, striking the creature in the chest. It
didn't phase her. She simply picked up the discarded
weapon and jammed its bayonet into the downed soldier's
eye! He lay writing in unbelievable pain as she brought
her strength down on the side of the weapon, slowly
extricating the visual organ from his socket. He jerked
from the pain as she snapped the eye from the optic nerve
and popped it in her mouth. She took a bite out of his
left shoulder as a second and a third soldier appeared.
She rose from the cooling kill and rushed to greet the
fresh meat. The third soldier fired into her head. The
bullet tore through her forehead, ripped through her
brain, and burst out the back of her neck. She paused as
if annoyed and continued to advance. The attacking
soldier just froze. "I- I shot- it right through the
head! And it's still-" The second man had just enough
time to get off a shot into the monster's shoulder before
it took a hunk of flesh from his neck. The man fell to
the ground, bleeding and gurgling. The zombie prepared to
take the remaining soldier when a fourth man appeared
behind him. BRAINS!
The joining contestant brought up his rifle and
activated the laser sighting. The red beam of light shot
through the foggy night and the dot came to rest on her
stomach. A few squeezes of his ( gun's ) trigger caused
her to stagger and shake for the last time. The two
survivors just stood their in silence as smoke from the
recently discharged rifle slowly rose to mingle into the
fog. The victor slowly turned to faced the other fellow.
"I've faced these things before. General Wilson and I
were part of a team who had to deal with these things
once. You've got to- URHK!" He was cut short as a hand
burst through his stomach, a fist that held the bloody
section of spine that he had just snapped away and thrust
through his body. The hand withdrew and the recent victim
fell to the floor, dead. The other man simply watched in
sheer terror as the victim that he had seen through the
window been devoured earlier was standing in the doorway,
his heaving broken form blocking out the moonlight and his
forearm covered with the fresh blood of his victim. It
brought the section of spine up to its mouth, took hold of
the exposed spinal cord segment between its teeth, yanked
it out, let it hang out of his mouth as part of his
anatomy had done just five minutes earlier in the evening,
and slurped it down his throat like a sting of spaghetti
( much as he had hoped would have happened to that same
part of anatomy earlier in the evening ). Finally coming
around, the remaining soldier darted for the phone in the
mess hall. He snatched up the phone and quickly looked
back over his shoulder. To his slack jawed amazement, the
now throatless first attacking soldier lumbered into the
doorway, trailing blood and entrails across the floor.
"NO! The- the dead are returning to life!" BRAINS!
The call came into the base's dispatch operator.
"BEEP."
THIS IS NOT GREMLINS 2: REWRITTEN! YOU WEREN'T
SUPPOSED TO TURN THE PAGE! BESIDES, THAT WAS TWO BEEPS!
YOU SEE, NOW YOU'VE JUST RUINED THE PACE, DAMN YOU! DAMN
YOU ALL! DAMN YOUR PARENTS! DAMN YOUR HIDES! DAMN YOUR
EYES! DAMN MY DAMNS, DAMMIT!
The call came into the base's dispatch operator.
"BEEP. Hello, this is Judy, your Save-Your-Life-in-Time
operator. How may I helpest thou this evening?" A
panicked voice laced with quick breaths came through the
earpiece. "They keep rising! THEY KEPT COMING! We shot
'em, even in the head, and they just- ARGH!" Static
filled Judy's ear. "Hmmm. I wonder what that was all
about. She pressed the button for her supervisor. Back
at the mess hall, the soldier who had just had the burden
of some of his spine and all of his life removed from his
person let the phone that he had just ripped out from the
wall fall to the floor. It then joined the other zombie
at the struggling victim. He shrieked in utter torture as
the zombie who had pinned him tore into his rib cage.
Spreading its hands further apart from each other, the
living soldier's torso was conveniently removed from his
waist, ripping his chest open painfully in two. The other
zombie attacked the still sensate torso and tore one of
the arms out its socket. After the meat had grown cold,
the two mobile zombies staggered out of the mess hall and
joined the other zombie roaming about aimlessly outside.
The most recent victim would have joined them, but instead
it did its part as a member of the living dead by just
squirming its separated parts about on the mess hall
floor. BRAINS!
The two zombies moved towards the recreation hall
while the loner headed off in its own search for food,
food it would not have to share. The MP standing guard at
the car checkpost in front of the rec hall saw the slowly
advancing men. "You two there, HALT!" he said as he
brought his weapon to bear on the two lumbering forms.
When the two refused to yield, he fired warning shots at
their feet. "I said stop!" They wouldn't. After having
had his ego bruised when people he barked orders to
wouldn't obey them, he reached into his booth and turned a
spotlight on the men. It revealed their true natures.
"Good God! What are-" He didn't bother to finish
questioning what reduced these poor lepers to their
current state. Whatever had happened to them, infection
or otherwise, was not a state that he wanted visited upon
himself and so fired at the two men. When the bullets
ripping through their bodies didn't stop them, he felt it
was now best to call this one in. Judy got a second
strange call babbling about unstoppable monsters followed
by static. BRAINS!
The receiver dangled from the MP's fingertips as one
of the zombies took hold of his throat. It shoved his
back through the glass of the booth with a loud shatter.
It relentlessly continued to apply the pressure, forcing
the remaining shards of glass to puncture the flesh of his
back. As it continued to force the MP's spine back,
vertebrae began to snap one by one. As if this wasn't bad
enough, the second zombie came into play, took the knife
from the MP's belt, stabbed him in the pharnyx, and slowly
brought the knife down to his navel, splitting him open
down the middle! It then shoved its hands into the wound
and began to messily gut and eat the MP whose last cries
rose loudly into the night. Within the rec room itself,
the soldiers inside enjoying some R & R became deathly
quite when they thought they heard an inhuman cry. But
they only paused for moment as they resumed entertaining
themselves. "To hell with anyone in need!" they amazingly
said in unison and returned to their games of pool,
ping-pong, Pac-man, and perquacky. Outside, the
disemboweled MP rolled to the asphalt, splattering the
blacktop with the last remaining essence of his life. The
two zombies, trailing blood and guts from their fresh kill
behind them headed into the rec hall. After they had
entered, the recently vivisected MP rose and followed the
trail made from his own parts into the building.
This is the end of "Return of the Living Dead: Rewritten
III \ THEY'RE BAAAAAACK!" Well, what more can be said
that hasn't been said by the title? Lieutenant Morgan's
plans appear to be reaching fruition, but do they
involving releasing potential Hell on Earth? Will Dr.
Cossack and General Wilson succeeding with the zombie
robotizing process go for naught with the revival of the
real thing, but not necessarily the right thing, baby, uh
huh? You'd better be here next time for "Return of the
Living Dead: Rewritten IV \ Invasion!" On second thought,
I might end up calling it something else to coincide
humorously with previous :Rewritten stories. You may find
yourself reading "Return of the Living Dead: Rewritten
IV \ Escape from the Zombies" instead. I doubt it
though... considering what will happen next time.
"Return of the Living Dead: Rewritten III \ THEY'RE
BAAAAAACK!" @1995 by David Minter. Based on the movies
"Return of the Living Dead" @1984 by Orion Pictures
Corporation which is based on the movie "Night of the
Living Dead" @1968 by Image Ten Productions, "Return of
the Living Dead Part II" @1988 Orion Pictures Corporation,
and "Return of the Living Dead III" @1993 by Trimark
Pictures, the concept of the Book and Record Set @1984 by
Buena Vista Records, and material from the :Rewritten
series, consisting sequentially of "Gremlins: Rewritten,"
"Critters: Rewritten," "Gremlins 2: Rewritten," "Night of
the Living Dead: Rewritten," "Bionic Command: Rewritten,"
and "Star Wars: Rewritten," written by David Minter @1991,
1992, 1993, and 1994.
Night of the Living Dead @1968, 1984, 1988, 1989, 1990,
1993, and 1994 by Image Ten Productions and George Romero,
John Russo, and Russ Streiner.
Buena Vista Records is a subsidiary of Walt Disney
Pictures Incorporated.
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