1
There’s money in the dead.
Five words is all it took for the world to end and the dead to rise. And you might think it was a medical experiment gone wrong, or the result of an evolved infection or parasitic bite. You’d be wrong. You’d be so wrong. One thing caused the zombie apocalypse and one thing only.
Hollywood.
That's right. Holly-fucking-wood. Questions? I bet. Allow me to give you some answers.
Whilst I still can.
2
How did Hollywood cause a zombie outbreak, you ask? Well, technically it’s your fault; yes your fault. The Audience. Why? Well I’ll tell you. You just kept wanting more, didn’t you? You got bored too easily. And the only cure for your boredom was more. Bigger. Better. Bloodier. More realistic. More—two seconds I need to catch my breath. I’m running and I’m so unfit it’s interrupting my inner monologue. In fact, I’m not running. Technically, I’m being chased. Which is also your fault. I’ll get to that. Right after I get over this stitch and—
—GRGH. ARGH. MNMN.
Shit no time. It’s coming. I’ll need to keep running. Shin splints and stitch included. OK, let me start at the beginning; The Pitch Meeting.
2
It all started with one question.
“How do we level up the zombie genre?”
That’s what The Pitch Meeting was for. Dead Talk TV Studios were a relatively new production company that had been established after the producers hit success with their zombie TV series called Deadlands. But it had never gotten as big as, well for copyright reasons let’s just call it That Other Show, and the producers of Deadlands had their sights set firmly on trying to beat the ratings That Other Show received at its peak. Personally, I never thought it would have a chance. That Other Show had the zombie genre cornered with its’ main show and spin-off series; plus it was so damn good I don’t think anyone thought another show could do what it had done. Besides, a lot of people thought we had reached saturation point for the genre, just like we had done with vampire stories - hello Twilight, Vampire Diaries, True Blood, I’m looking at you. I kinda blame you guys for the cancellation of The Passage. Although, I guess you never gave us a vampire outbreak so points for that.
Anyway I digress. The Pitch Meeting.
Dead Talk TV had assembled a group of the best writers and producers working in the genre to pitch the next big zombie show. And that was when they asked the question.
“How do we level up the zombie genre?”
I had ideas, but I was just an Assistant to the Producer at that point (I’m now a Production Assistant - yes it’s different), so I kept quiet. I listened. I took notes.
“Why don’t we give it a break for a while?” This was the first suggestion. I don’t know who, someone who obviously didn’t want to make any money.
Xander Castor, (my boss and yes that really is his name) the Creator of Deadlands and the Head of Dead Talk TV Studios (known around the watercooler as Dead Head) shook his head and uttered those five words. “There’s money in the dead. We just need a new angle. The next big thing. Something fresh. Something we haven’t seen before.”
And so for the next hour the creatives gave pitch after pitch. Match of the Dead, Dancing on the Dead, Breaking The Dead each becoming more outlandish than the last. Then several pastries and coffee later, someone hit the jackpot with a joke.
“What would be really fresh is a zombie documentary, am I right? Pity they aren’t real.”
Everyone in the room laughed. Everyone except Xander.
He sat forward. His eyes lit up. “What if they were real though?”
One of the writers, Gale Andrews (a playwright who was entering TV for the first time) laughed. “You know they’re not real right?”
Xander grinned. “Not yet.”
Sarah shook her head. “Xander, I don’t know what you mean. Maybe we’ve been pitching too long. I could sure go a break.”
Xander ignored her and stood up, pacing his top floor office with its view onto Sunset Boulevard and the Hollywood sign etched into the hills beyond. I watched him survey the posters from his favourite movies that lined the wall; Shaun of the Dead, 28 Days Later, Night of the Living Dead, the list goes on. When he turned back to the room, I could see he had formed an idea.
Xander stepped forward. It was his turn to pitch. “That’s what I want to do. Let’s make it real. That’s the next step. We’ll do The Nolan Approach. Commitment to in-camera effects, make it grounded. Real.”
Another of the writers, Shawn Rodriguez, shook his head. “That’s not what The Nolan Approach is exactly. He didn’t really detonate a nuclear bomb for Oppenheimer. Instead he—”
Xander waved him away. “If I wanted lesson on film theory I’d have went to film school, Shawn.”
He clapped his hands together. “Get everyone on this. Bring in consultants. Bring in scientists. Bring in the stunt team and the effects team; they’ll be the ones to get it over the line. Bring in everyone. But keep it top secret.”
Gale spoke again. “You can’t be serious Xander.”
Xander flashed a smile. “Welcome to Hollywood, Gale. Where there is money to be made, I’m deadly serious.”
I watched the room fall silent. Xander continued. “I don’t care if it takes 5 months or 5 years. Gimme a real zombie, just skin and bones.”
And that was that and here we are.
Exactly five fucking years later (and one promotion for me later) and I find myself being chased by The World’s First Zombie. You might be wondering who, exactly, could be the World's First Zombie? Well this is Hollywood isn’t it? And Hollywood only want the best. They exhumed one of our long gone but dearly beloved actors and reanimated them. Yes, that’s right. The World’s Greatest Dead Actor has been brought back to life for their biggest role yet. No I’m not naming he or she. Because again, copyright. Besides, pick whoever you want and call them whatever you want. I call them A Big Fucking Mistake and Over Budget.
Anyway, it's almost time for their big screen dead debut - (deadbut?) If I can shuffle them in without being killed, that is. Because that’s my job today.
Work in Hollywood they said. It’ll be fun they said. Promotion my ass.
I take a look forward and see the Dead Talk TV Studios building just ahead of me. Finally. I run the rest of the way.
3
I burst through the doors of the building and stop. The reception of the Dead Talk TV Studios sits quiet. It’s after hours. No receptionist, no security guard, no cleaners. In other words, nobody in harms way. Well, other than me. It’s ghostly quiet; the only sound cutting through the silence is that of the watercooler as it bubbles into life occasionally. But of course, now there’s another sound I can hear. The groans of our Undead A-Lister as he (or she - I’m not giving you any clues I don’t want sued) drags their dead ass around the corner and shuffles toward me, staggering up the stairs.
I take a moment to think about what I’m doing and I really can't believe I’m doing it.
Here I am, standing in front of the zombified version of one of the greatest actors who ever lived (and died and lived again) as they shuffle toward me. What am I doing? I’m holding open the fucking door for it. The only thing that's missing is a red carpet and the paparazzi. Although if I'm not careful the carpet really will be red. And I’ll be dead.
The Star of the Dead (I think I’ll stick with this title now) shuffles into the building and I let the door go; just evading its grasp.
I start running again and sprint towards the stairs. I get halfway down when I turn and check it’s followed me. It has.
And this is where I realise my mistake. It doesn’t take the stairs one at a time. It falls forward and tumbles down the stairs, barrelling into me.
We both bundle down the rest of the stairs and land with a sickening thud.
I check myself and find I’m OK. The Star of the Dead, however, is a different story.
It’s reanimated Hollywood smile has taken a turn for the worse as it’s landed face first on the concrete studio floor; their face smushed together and rearranged to look like Picasso’s interpretation of the undead.
I grimace but decide to say nothing. I instead signal to two Runners who heard the commotion and are running in my direction, ready to take over.
The Runners spring into action shoving a brown cloth bag over its head, covering its now rearranged face. The other quickly ties rope around it and pins its arms down.
The two Runners, quite casually, and without a word, drag it to its feet and lead it past me and onto the place where the magic happens; the studio soundstage.
I itch my arm and breathe a sigh of relief. I follow them in. My job is done.
Or at least that’s what I thought.
4
The soundstage is full of people who immediately stop what they are doing at the appearance of the two Runners and their date for this evening.
I follow behind them when Cheryl, one of the producers catches my eye. She mouths over at me. “You ok?”
I nod and give her a thumbs up; no big deal. I’ve got this. I’m Brad Pitt in World War Z. Totally unfazed; calm and in control.
The Runners lead The Star of the Dead onto the soundstage and force it into a cage in front of a huge green screen. They quickly shut the cage door and lock it. Slowly, through the bars of the cage, they snip the ropes binding its hands and remove the cloth bag. Everyone takes a step back as it snarls and lunges forward.
The Director of Photography and the camera crew slowly roll in; ready to make the magic happen. But the DoP stops, stares at his subject and raises his hand to call a halt to proceedings.
“We’ve got a problem. Someone call Xander in.”
Ah, shit.
5
Xander Castor, dressed in a suit, is sitting in the make-up chair. Yvonne is standing behind him. He’s look at himself in the mirror; he’s in love.
Xander breaks into a smile. “Well, you’ve done it again, Yvonne. You’d made me look a new man.”
Yvonne laughs. “I didn’t really have all that much to do, Xander.”
Xander looks at her through the mirror and raises his eyebrow, smiling. “Is that so?”
She smiles back at him. “Maybe.”
Xander takes her hand. “Well isn’t that a nice thing to say. Maybe when we wrap filming for the day, we—”
A knock on the door interrupts their flirting. Xander swivels in his chair to see Cheryl.
He waves her in. “Cheryl, how’s it going? Come in, come in.” But Cheryl stays outside, her face grave with concern. Xander raises an eyebrow. “What is it?”
Cheryl sighs. “We’ve got a problem.”
Xander’s smile evaporates. “What kind of problem?”
Cheryl bites her lip nervously. “Casting.”
He drops Yvonne’s hand, jumps out of his chair and follows Cheryl out of the room.
6
The soundstage is a hive of activity as everyone paces around looking busy as they await for Xander to arrive. I try to stay out of the way. I shouldn’t be nervous, but I am. I’m sweating. I feel sick. I’m burning up. I’m a strange combination of hungry and sick. They can’t possibly blame this on me, can they?
Xander arrives on the soundstage and everyone falls quiet as he approaches The Star of the Dead and carries out his inspection. He sighs and turns around to the crew.
“OK. Who brought him in?”
The crew immediately step away from me and I’m standing alone. The spotlight well and truly on me. I have no choice. I step forward. I nervously claw at my arm which is hot and itchy.
“I did. Sir.” I gulped.
Xander beckoned me forward. “Take a look. What do you see?”
I looked at The Star of the Dead. “I see a great idea brought to life, sir.”
Xander let out a chuckle. “Nice try. But we can’t use this anymore, can we?”
I played dumb. “You can’t?”
Xander shook his head. “Of course we can’t.”
“Why not?” I asked.
Xander pointed at it. “Well, I mean, just look at him.”
I shrugged. “L-l-looks OK to me.” I coughed. My breathing was getting a little raspy.
Xander shook his head again. “Looks OK to you? Really? Look at the state of it. It's all fucked up. Doesn't even look like what they did when they were alive.”
Fuck it. I’m doubling down. “Looks fine to me.”
Xander was growing impatient.“Its nose is gone.”
I folded my arms. “Might have been all the drugs when they were alive.”
Xander rubbed his fingers on the bridge of his nose. “OK, what about the eyes being either side of its mouth then, genius. What about that?”
I shrugged again. “I thought they were just really interesting dimples. You know, Hollywood always comes up with a new trend.”
Xander was almost shaking with rage now. “Oh nice try funny guy. This is a fucking disaster. I don't know what we are going to do but this is unusable. And it’s your fault.”
I scratched my arm. “We could get another Undead Actor?”
Xander sighed. “Everyone else said no and--”
Then he stops talking. He looks at me and smiles. Not a nice smile, you know, like the ones that put you at ease, but the opposite. I then notice everyone looking at me, with differing degrees of alarm. Even Cheryl. I mouth “What?” at her. She doesn’t reply.
Xander breaks into a smile. “Did you have a tangle with the zombie?”
I nodded. “Yes. But I'm fine.”
“Really? You sure you’re feeling OK?”
I was sick of this now. “Yes I--” but I stop. I look down. I see the tear in my shirt and I see the tear beneath. The Star of the Dead had scratched through my shirt in our tangle, but it’s infected claws didn't stop as it breached the material; it didn't stop until it breached my skin.
I can see quite clearly now, four scratches that have gouged a hole in my skin, exposing blood, flesh and bone beneath.
Fuck. I've been scratched. I’ve seen enough movies to know what this means.
I'm the world's first zombie victim. I’m Patient fucking Zero. Or Patient One if you take Bran—I mean, The Star of the Dead.
I stand there collecting what remains of my thoughts. I don’t know how much longer I’ve got left but I don’t think it’s long. And I think my colleagues know that as everyone starts to back away.
Everyone except Xander, that is. Instead, he puts an arm around me. “Sid—”
“It’s Simon.”
Xander waves his hand dismissively. “Whatever. How would you like to make your on-screen debut?”
I was at a loss for words. Here I was, bitten by the world’s first zombie and a potential threat to spreading the infection of the undead. An infection created by Hollywood to sell more movie tickets and merchandise. What was their priority? They were more concerned with ensuring their investment was fully realised.
I thought it through quickly. At least I could legitimately say ‘look ma, I made it in Hollywood. I made it to the big screen. I told ya!’ OK, it wasn’t what I had in mind when I made my way here but it was better than nothing. It was still Hollywood, right?
I looked at his hand on mine. I licked my lips, all of a sudden hungry.
I nodded. OK I’d do it. May as well make it worthwhile.
But first, time to eat.
This is the first new short story I’ve written in a while; at least the first new story that continues beyond 50 words! It’s based on an old short film script I written and, after watching (and loving) The Walking Dead: The Ones Who Live, I thought I’d dust off an old zombie story idea and write it for Substack. I’d say there’s quite a few tales from the zombie apocalypse that I’ve got in the drawer that would work if I take another pass at them (and I might just do - or at the very least combine them into a longer story!) In fact, I cut the back half of this script and one of the other characters; they just didn’t quite fit with the more tongue-in-cheek, humorous tone I was going for here which more than likely means they will live on in another story. I feel a collection coming together….but first I have another collection I’m working on (revealed at some point, once I figure out and finish all the stories in it).
If you enjoyed Skin & Bones and are a fan of stories that roam about in the zombie apocalypse, let me point you toward my other short story Deadlands (which I make a fun nod to here). It’s a more sombre story but one I’m equally proud of; it was featured in best-selling horror anthology Twisted 50; an anthology that knocked my favourite author Stephen King’s collection The Bazaar of Bad Dreams off the top spot of the charts. Finding out that news was a really fun day and another milestone moment.
In other writing news, I’m delighted to be have one of my scripts selected to take part in Short Attention Span Theatre’s night of short plays which will take part in a 6-show run over 4 days in July from 10th July to 13th July in Glasgow’s Old Hairdressers (10th July) and The Ayr Gaiety (13th July). For Substack subscribers, I’ll share the script after the curtain comes down on the show - it’s fun little dark comedy.
As ever, thank you for reading and subscribing to Toasted Fiction. It means a great deal to this writer that you are choosing to read stories that I’ve written.
Cheers and have a good weekend!
Cx
This was such a fun read! And honestly I wouldn’t be surprised… 😏🖤
Really enjoyed this Chris 👍🏼
Reminded me in tone, if not plot, of Charlie Brooker’s Dead Set that was on Channel 4 many years ago. Very funny but also properly gnarly when it needed to be
Congratulations on the play as well. That’s wonderful news 👏