Night of the Living Jed & Dawn of the Jed

I hope you enjoy this.....

Night of the Living Jed...
"Well, doggies...." Jed lowered the shotgun with a heavy heart, the roar of double-ought buck still ringing in his ears. Jethro's corpse twitched briefly before lying still. His attacker hadn't even noticed. Jed didn't relish telling his cousin that he'd been forced to blow his nephew's brains all over the estate's sprawling grounds, but there had been no choice. Once Jethro had been bitten, it was only a matter of time before he became one of those shambling things throwing themselves against the iron fence and main gates. He'd seen it too many times in the last few weeks, as this so-called zombie plague had spread like wildfire across the country, finally landing in the posh sprawl of Beverly Hills. The people native to this area were doomed, he mused. They were too soft, too pampered. They didn't know how to survive when their comfortable world came crashing down around them.
"Jed! Pay attention to yer chores, boy! The job ain't over yet!" Granny pointed out towards the lawn frantically. Miss Hathaway remained oblivious, contentedly munching away on a piece of Jethro's throat. Her skin had turned a mottled gray, her eyes milky and opaque. There was a strange irony to this, the formerly poor mountaineer turned oil millionaire thought as he raised the shotgun to finish her off. Miss Hathaway had always had her eyes on Jethro. Seems like in the end she finally got her man. He uttered a quick prayer before pulling the trigger. "You rest easy now, girl."
Jed paused to reload when he heard another shot ring out from the upper story window Granny had chosen as her sniping position. Another zombie, this one a young woman wearing torn and shredded Christian Dior originals and high heel pumps fell to the ground, this time for good. Already, Granny had sent upwards of twenty of these poor souls to their final reward. The bodies at the main gate were starting to pile up. This was no good, Jed Clampett thought. That wrought iron fence ringing the estate was holding up pretty good so far, but it was only a matter of time before it fell before the sheer weight of the ever-growing hordes outside. The sky was thick with screams and smoke as yet another exclusive mansion went up in flames and another victim fell to the feeding frenzy going on outside. They had to get out of here. The only place he felt they could make a stand at was back home in Kentucky. The Clampett clan knew those woods and hills like the backs of their hands. They could survive there for an eternity. But Kentucky was half a continent away now and the country was crawling with those things.
"What now, pa?" Ellie Mae looked up at him with wide eyes, stroking one of her thoroughly frightened raccoons.
Jed shook his head. Best not to rile his daughter up just yet, but those critters of hers may wind up in the stew pot before long if things went south on them here. "Don't know just yet, darlin.' But I do know one thing. I need to have me some words with Mr. Drysdale. He had to have known Miss Hathaway was infected when we let 'em in here. I figure he owes us a little explanation."
Granny shot another zombie from her second floor perch as Jed and Ellie Mae made their way back to the mansion. Jed withdrew his hunting knife from its sheath. Oh, yes. He and Mr. Drysdale would indeed have some words.....
Dawn of the Jed
Ellie Mae hit the gas and the ancient truck sped forward with a loud backfire, bursting out through the estate's back gate and speeding towards Rodeo Drive. Behind them, the bait they left behind to distract the zombies screamed its last pitiful bleatings, reaching a high-pitched crescendo as the moaning, ravenous crowd drowned out its protests. "Pa, I'm real glad you didn't use none of my critters to keep them dead folks busy. That sure woulda broke my heart." Jed Clampett patted his beloved daughter on the shoulder. "Just you keep yer mind on drivin', darilin. We ain't out of the woods yet." Perched atop her rocking chair in the bed of the truck, Granny cast one final glance back towards their now abandoned mansion and estate grounds. The iron fence had finally given way to the hordes outside, allowing them access. They advanced inwards hungrily, sunken, opaque eyes riveted on the figure tied to the poplar tree outside the front door. The Clampetts had held out for the better part of two weeks before the street outside their home had filled to capacity and beyond with the shambling dead. With supplies running low, Jed had made the decision for them to finally make a bid for escape, but not before taking care of one final loose end. "Burn in hell, city slicker." Granny spat a long trail of chewing tobacco as she watched their former banker get torn apart and devoured by those stinking, rotted masses. "An eye for an eye."
Mr. Drysdale had pleaded like a little pig, squealing and bleating, but Jed would have none of it. The banker had known that Miss Hathaway was infected when they let the two through the gates as the crisis reached its boiling point, yet he'd said nothing. The Clampett's Christian charity had been undermined by Drysdale's incessant cowardice and they'd paid the price for it. Now Miss Hathaway was dead, and Jethro too once she'd turned. Drysdale owed both her and the Clampetts a debt that could only be paid for in blood, and now it had been collected.
"Pa, the streets are too crowded. We're gonna have to get off the main streets right quick." Jed considered his daughter's words. All around them, the fires had finally gone out, leaving blackened shells where posh mansions and shops once stood. Derelict cars clogged the intersections and in the streets roamed hundreds, if not thousands of the newly dead. The only saving grace was that the scent of smoke and burned buildings almost offset the smell of the rotting population of Beverly Hills and Los Angeles, but only barely. If they stuck to the main thoroughfares, there would be no escape. "Get us out of here, girl. Let's detour through the suburbs. Head east."
Granny fired her shotgun as one of the undead came too close to the truck when they slowed to swerve around a shattered Ferrari. "East is good, Jed. East is towards home."
"Yup. But that's a fair piece off, Granny. Best keep that powder dry a spell and conserve yer shot. Don't rightly know when we'll have chance to stock up aging."
Granny cackled as she sat down her shotgun and pulled up a bottle of moonshine. She lit a rag that dangled from its spout with her pipe and hurled it into a crowd of zombies approaching the truck at their preternaturally slow, graveyard pace. They moonshine cocktail exploded in their midst, turning them into shambling torches. "Oh, I got more than just shot, Jed. Lot's more. I remember Andersonville, guardin' Yankee prisoners when I was a young, pretty thing. We torched 'em just like this when their dead started comin' back. Nobody outside ever knew. Now git us on home, boy."
Jed nodded sagely. Granny was a lot older than she looked. "Yes maam. You heard yer Granny, girl. Drive."
"Yes, Pa." Ellie Mae tapped on the gas and the truck plowed into an ambulatory corpse that was still recognizable as having once been a Los Angeles policeman. Its bones snapped like cordwood beneath its wheels. Unheeding of this fact, the body moaned thickly and continued crawling after the truck long after it turned the next corner and rolled out of sight.