Here's a new Stay Dead short story…
Kurt loads up his wheelbarrow as usual. He tossed in all of the gardening tools he’d need for the day; rake, hoe, shovel, spade, trowel, and plenty others heaped on top of each other. He pulled his gloves on tight, heading out of the shed and over to the garden. The morning was warm and the sun hung low. The moans of the dead filled the air, but it was nothing Kurt wasn’t used to. He’d heard the noises for a long time now, longer than he thought was possible. He never could figure out how the dead things were able to make noise—it just didn’t make any sense to him. Not that he needed to make sense of it; all Kurt really needed was to tend to his garden.
Gardening was his labor of love before the deaders began rising, and he’d be damned to hell if he stopped it after they showed up. It was part of his ritual, part of his life, and by not doing it he’d be giving into the darkness of the new world. It was one of his ways of defying the new world and its ways, one of the few, and a way to reconnect with the earth.
As Kurt neared his garden, a deader staggered into view. He was surprised that it was alone, he’d only seen them traveling in packs. The deader stepped closer, barely able to balance its mass on its crooked, bloated, legs. Kurt slowly approached it, pushing his wheelbarrow, unaffected by the sight of the creature. He stopped pushing the wheelbarrow, grabbed his shovel and stepped dangerously close to the dead thing. Kurt gripped the shovel tight in both hands and jabbed at the deader's throat. He knocked the creature to the ground, following through with his jab, and continuing to push as the deader hit the ground. The shovel pierced through the tough skin of its throat and crunched into its spine as Kurt continued to push down. Eventually his weight and determination forced the shovel through the deader’s spine. The splintering noise of it was pushed aside as Kurt began to sever the head from the body. He grunted as he worked the shovel through the rest of the deader’s throat. When he was done, he returned the shovel to the wheelbarrow. He reached down and grabbed the deader’s head, which stared at him as he tossed it into his wheelbarrow. He left the body where it lay, and walked over to the garden.
He walked down the rows of moaning heads that comprised a large portion of his garden. Dead eyes followed him as he pushed the wheelbarrow down to the end. Kurt knelt down, and began digging a little hole. He grabbed the severed head, placing it in gently, and patted dirt around it. The dead thing’s eyes never stopped staring at Kurt, none of the heads in the garden did.