I wrote the following story as a gag gift and handed out copies at a college friend’s pirate-themed Christmas party in December 2004. It centers around our core friend group as we battle a zombie outbreak at Eastern Illinois University. This wacky holiday misadventure blends college comedy with light horror and a touch of absurdity. I lost the original file, so I rewrote and revised it. The real-life JJ died in an apartment fire a few years ago. RIP, brother.
They survived the Viking Christmas of ’03, but will the Eastern Family Tree survive their first Pirate Christmas, or will they be marooned on the island of failed parties of yore? The shipwrecks of two Halloween parties lie in their wake as reminders of what could await, but the brave crew will soon prove their metal against unknown foes. So load the cannon and hoist the oars you scallywags! There’s plunder ahead!
It was early December. Thick snowflakes descended against a backdrop of Old Main’s stone crenelated towers accentuated with dangling strings of white lights twinkling in the darkness. Buck drove his car west down Lincoln Avenue’s slick pavement past Boxa and Positively Fourth Street Records on his way to his girlfriend Anna’s apartment in northwestern Charleston, Illinois. His tires splashed slush onto groups of frat boys and sorority girls dressed inappropriately for the weather, who jumped back with annoyed yelps. They huddled together for warmth on their way to Stix dance club or a house party.
Buck had other things on his mind.
Tonight was his friend group’s annual themed Christmas party, and he needed to get there early to help set up and organize the games. They called themselves the “Eastern Family Tree,” or EFT for short, since they all met while attending Eastern Illinois University. He adjusted the volume of his Belle and Sebastian CD and continued speeding down Lincoln Avenue.
A red sedan sat under the glow of a streetlamp north of Charleston’s town square. Its owner, Mike, grumbled as he wrapped his gray coat tighter and pulled his green hat insulated with rabbit fur down around his ears. It’s better to be cold than sweating, he reassured himself as he brushed snow off his windshield and tore open the driver’s side door. He practically fell into the seat and quickly turned the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled and coughed to life.
A wall of sound and the rhythmic grinding of guitars flowed from the speakers as Mike pulled onto the street and drove past the welcoming lights of Huck’s gas station. This is going to be interesting, he whispered while waving his fist angrily at a pickup truck that turned in front of him without signaling.
Snow sprinkled from the darkening sky on the southeast end of campus, where few people stirred around the government-quality housing known as University Apartments. A man in his mid-thirties with a receding hairline, Brent, was buttoning his brown suede jacket when the phone rang. It was Buck’s girlfriend, Anna, wondering if he was going to bring food to the party.
“I’m looking,” Brent said, flustered at the request. He opened the Coca-Cola magnet-covered refrigerator door and stared at the scattered Tupperware containers inside.
“Well?” Anna asked impatiently.
Brent laughed nervously. “Ok,” he said dismissively. “I’ll see.” With that, he hung up and grabbed a bowl of broken, bottom-of-the-bag chips before heading out the door into the cold.
A short time later, Buck arrived at Anna’s apartment and found their mutual friends Korah and Melissa were already there. The three twenty-somethings greeted him like Japanese schoolgirls at a rock concert. He hugged and kissed Anna on the cheek.
“I called Brent and asked him to bring food,” Anna said at rapid speed. “So he better have something. Otherwise, this is all we have.”
Buck and Anna reviewed the snacks laid out on the kitchen table while Korah and Melissa returned to set up the artificial Christmas tree in the living room. The rest of the apartment, which Anna shared with her mother and sister, was devoid of any decorations.
It was a pirate themed party, so everyone was supposed to be wearing fake eye patches. Korah donned striped stockings, and Melissa wore a red bandanna.
Melissa examined the empty Christmas tree. Its green tinsel branches hung naked in the air like a marooned sailor begging for scraps of clothing. She threw her hands into the air, shook her head, and walked from the room in disgust.
Korah followed close behind with a wide-eyed look of concern. “Buck,” she said. “Don’t we have any decorations?”
Buck removed his hand from a Christmas-themed cookie tin and smiled. “Don’t ask me. I wasn’t responsible for bringing decorations!”
“I don’t think anyone brought them,” Anna said.
Korah furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Anna jumped up. “Yes?” she sang.
“It’s me,” came the muffled, monotone reply.
“Oh, it’s Mike,” the four said in unison.
Anna opened the door and Mike stepped into the kitchen wearing his usual black shirt, green cargo pants, and gray peacoat. “What?” he asked when he noticed everyone staring.
“It’s a pirate party!” Buck yelled cheerfully as he tried to greet his friend with a bear hug, but Mike adeptly avoided it.
“Yeah,” Anna added. “You’re supposed to dress up.”
“I did dress up,” Mike replied dismissively as he pushed his way past and draped his heavy coat on the back of a kitchen chair. He glanced down at the cookie tin and then at the barren tree in the living room. “Um,” he said, hesitantly. “Is this the party?” He snatched up the two remaining sugar cookies and shoved them into his mouth.
Another knock at the door.
“It’s probably Brent,” Anna groaned as she opened it.
As suspected, Brent had arrived. He greeted his friends with a smile and stepped inside, presenting his bowl of broken potato chips like an offering to Poseidon. His forehead glimmered under the kitchen light like a chest of Captain Flint’s treasure.
Anna didn’t hesitate to state the obvious. “Well, we only have a half an hour before everyone else gets here and we have no decorations and no food,” she said.
“I brought some chips,” Brent said unhelpfully with an ivory smile. He squeezed past Mike and Buck and placed it next to the cookie tin on the otherwise barren table, then chuckled nervously.
As usual, it fell on Buck to break the stalemate. “Well, come on!” he yelled, throwing his arms in the air. “What are we doing? Let’s get this party started.”
“Why don’t some of us go to Walmart to pick up food?” Korah diplomatically suggested. If no one volunteered, she would go alone. “We can get some decorations too.”
“Someone has to stay here if other people show up,” Anna said matter-of-factly. She leaned back in her chair until her shoulders touched the wall.
Melissa volunteered with a heavy sigh. She shook her head and wondered why everyone was moving so slowly.
“Ok,” Buck said. He stood and demanded everyone’s attention. “Me and Korah will get the decorations.”
“Fine, me and Brent will go get the food,” grumbled Mike. “But we could just order a pizza.”
With that, the room exploded in a flurry of activity as Mike, Buck, Korah, and Brent rushed out the door and Anna and Melissa disappeared into the living room to make sure everything else was ready.
Mike and Brent climbed into Brent’s unwieldy tan Buick and lurched out of the parking lot like a British galleon leaving Port Royal, closely following Buck’s vehicle. The car seemed to rock on its axels when it turned, and Mike’s knuckles turned white as his hand gripped the panic handle. “Let’s… uh… look out for the curbs…” he stuttered.
Brent laughed and tried to reassure his friend. “Just relax.”
Mike turned his head and stared in silence as they travelled down the deserted streets. “Why does it smell like gas in here?”
Brent let out another nervous chuckle and just continued driving.
It occurred to Buck that something was wrong as Korah and he drove down Lincoln Avenue towards the Super Walmart at the edge of town. He no longer saw crowds of students walking down the sidewalks, or any sign of traffic on the roads. He could see discarded clothing and cars that had run off the road. It looked like a tornado had come through, but there were no bodies lying around and all the buildings were intact. Besides, no one had heard a tornado.
“This is weird,” Korah gasped, rubbing her thick, black fur coat.
Buck shook his head and glanced in the rearview mirror. “My gawd,” he said. “What happened to Mike and Brent?” The road behind him was dark and deserted, with no sign of Brent’s Buick.
“Where are you going?” Mike demanded.
Brent had turned down a side street and after a short distance his balding tires skidded on ice. The groaning Buick slid slowly into a parking lot.
“Will you relax?” Brent said. “I was trying to find a short cut.”
“This doesn’t look like a short cut,” replied Mike. “It looks like a parking lot.”
Brent sighed and leaned back in his seat, looking over his shoulder to see if there was room to turn around. What he saw raised the hairs on the back of his neck. The once-empty parking lot was now filled with a small crowd of college-aged kids stumbling towards them.
“Are they drunk?” he asked.
One stumbled into the headlight beams, revealing an unnaturally pale face and what looked like blood smeared across his haggard lips.
“Psychos!” Mike yelled. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
Brent bowed his head in prayer, but Mike shoved him back into the present.
“God won’t teleport us out of here! Step on the gas!”
The wheels squealed as Brent slammed the gear into reverse. His car lurched backward, nearly missing the man in his headlights. Brent’s face showed grim determination as he guided the car out of the parking lot, sparks flying as his bumper scraped the curb.
Back in Anna’s apartment, Melissa and she were waiting for more guests to arrive. It was getting late, and no one else had showed up. Suddenly, someone knocked on the door.
“Finally,” Anna groaned. She pulled herself from her chair and threw open the door.
It was J.J. His face was torn and pale green, with a white Santa hat cocked on his head.
“This is a pirate Christmas Party,” Anna yelled. “Not a zombie Christmas party.”
“Braaaaains!” J.J. responded and swiped at Anna’s head.
“Cut it out,” she said, annoyed. “It’s not funny.”
J.J. lunged again, and this time Anna caught a whiff of decay.
“I… I don’t think he’s joking,” Melissa stuttered as she tried to get out of her chair. In a panic, however, she became entangled and fell on the kitchen floor.
Anna screamed and ran, narrowly avoiding J.J.’s gnarled fingers gripping her hair as he stumbled into the apartment. The last thing she saw as she ran from the room was Melissa struggling to get to her feet. Anna ran into her bedroom and slammed the door closed. Loud banging noises came from the kitchen, followed by a sickening silence.
Breathing heavily, Anna raced to her computer. Her eyes frantically scanned her friend list on Instant Messenger and she pulled up a chat window for Buck’s screen name. H-E-L-P, she typed. S-O-M-E-T-H-I-N-G I-S A-T-T-A-C-K-I-N-G U-S. She paused. How do you explain you’re being attacked by a zombie?
A heavy thud against the door disrupted her thoughts.
Buck’s cell phone buzzed as Korah and he continued driving towards Walmart. He felt the vibration, dug into his corduroy pants and flipped open the phone. His heart skipped a beat when he read Anna’s message. “Oh my gawd,” he exclaimed. “We have to get back!”
“What did it say?” asked Korah with concern.
“That they’re being attacked,” Buck explained. He slowed the car down and looked for a place to make a U-turn.
“What? They had to be kidding.”
“Why don’t we go back and see for ourselves? It worries me that we lost Brent and Mike too. Something weird is going on.” Buck gestured toward the littered road. “I mean, look at this place.”
In Brent’s Buick, he also tried to find a way back to Anna’s apartment through the maze of Charleston’s one-way streets. “Those guys had to be on crack or something,” he muttered, not comprehending what he had seen.
“They were zombies, Brent,” Mike said from the passenger seat. “Christmas zombies.” He paused and looked out the window, his voice becoming deep and serious. “Those are the worst kind.”
“We have to get back to make sure Anna and Melissa are okay,” Brent said, responsibly. His Buick hit a bump in the road and sent sparks flying.
Mike, still gazing into the night, said, “There’s only one thing you can do to stop Christmas zombies. The Necronomicon tells us—”
Brakes squealed.
“We almost hit someone!” Brent shouted.
Standing in the headlights was a man wearing a worn, stained yellow hoodie.
Mike immediately recognized him. “Hey, it’s James!” He rolled down the window. “Hey, James! Are you a zombie?”
James jogged over to the back door and opened it. “Zombies?” he asked, confused. “I haven’t seen any zombies, but I think I ate someone a few blocks ago.” He lunged into the car and Brent drove off with the door swinging open.
The pounding on Anna’s bedroom door grew louder. “Hey!” a muffled voice yelled. “Open up! Hurry!” It was Melissa. “He’s crawling toward me very slowly!”
Was this a trick? Had she turned?
Melissa continued yelling. “Open the door! If you open it right now, I can get in! Oh, God, he’s like a yard away!”
Anna tore open the door, throwing caution to the wind like Captain Jack Sparrow in his pursuit of the Black Pearl. She grabbed Melissa by the arm and pulled her into the relative safety of the bedroom. The zombie J.J. was crawling slowly along the floor, his red and white Santa hat fallen over his eyes.
“Braiiiiins! Braiiiiins!”
Suddenly, the sound of tires squealing came from the parking lot outside. “It’s Buck!” Anna shouted as she rushed to the window.
“Yay, Buck!” Melissa joined in. The pair raced from the bedroom, past the zombie on the hallway floor, and out of the apartment quickly enough to catch Buck and Korah as they were entering the apartment building.
“What was your message about?” Buck asked, his otherwise cheerful tone replaced by alarm.
Melissa and Anna panted heavily. “J.J.— Zombies— Must find Brent— Must fight.”
“This doesn’t even make sense,” Buck laughed. “What is going on?”
Korah agreed.
As they stood there in the snow, Brent’s Buick slid into the parking lot, narrowly missing a tree. Brent, Mike, and James piled out.
Mike pulled a copy of the Necronomicon from his coat pocket. “I have the book that will save us!” Without waiting for another word, he began, “Klatu… verata…”
“Mike, stop,” Buck interrupted. “You don’t even know what that book says.”
“I’ve seen Evil Dead like seven times,” Mike snapped. “I think I know how to handle a Christmas zombie outbreak.”
“You’re dreaming, Mike,” Buck interrupted. “Wake up and this will all be over.”
“Huh?” Mike asked, looking up from the worn pages.
“Just wake up!” Anna shouted as the zombie J.J. thrust his head out of the apartment window.
“Braaaaiiiiins!”
Anna sighed. “I’ve had enough of this.” She marched past them all, picked up a snow shovel from the hallway, and stormed back into the apartment. A loud thump echoed from inside. Then silence.
* * *
The images swirled in Mike’s head until a piercing light touched his eyes. He was back in Anna’s apartment, laying on the sofa.
“Ahoy there, matey!” Buck said, his bearded smile swirling into focus. “You got absolutely plastered last night.”
“Huh?”
“Had a little too much of the Captain’s private stock,” James chimed in.
“No!” Mike said in disbelief. “This doesn’t even make sense. Dumbest ending ever.”
“Sorry,” said Buck. “That’s the way it goes.”
Merry Christmas, everyone!
M.A. Kleen 
What are your thoughts?