Zombiephiles!

The trailer was one of those modern “manufactured” homes, with all of the essentials built into it; a plastic faux-oak finish on the outside, three short metal steps up to a plastic door, and some ruddy brown carpet blotched with stains along with horrid floral wallpaper. The works.

The thing was as ugly as any he had seen, but after three days wandering through the wilderness, it had been a sight for sore eyes. He’d quickly sealed the only two entrances over with paneling he had ripped from the flimsy walls and drew the curtains over every window before settling down in the master bedroom: a twelve by eleven-foot square space leading into a small bathroom complete with his-and-her mirrors, a full-sized tub and two rotting corpses piled in the shower.

When he’d taken refuge in the trailer, he thought he had been alone. He’d collapsed on a dark purple loveseat and tried to get rest when they attacked.

The putrid smell would have given them away except for the fact that all of his clothes smelled of rotting flesh and the coppery tang of bodily fluids. His shirt was sticky, stained with dried blood, and his hair was matted down with gore. Since he’d been on the run, his energy was at a minimum and he didn’t notice the signs until she was right on top of him.

The woman must have been as ugly in life as in death. She was obese, short and plump, and still had curlers in her hair from when she was alive. In death, her girth had swollen and bloated, turned black and oozy with the aid of humidity and time.

Her dress was stained with unidentifiable fluids as her body excreted oils, the rancid meat hanging in loose folds around her stubby arms, her legs swollen to ungodly proportions, the skin pulled tight around decaying muscles, ripped in places. She lunged to take a bite of his leg, but he had been faster. He kicked out and struck the bloated corpse right in the stomach. Its abdomen squished inward and his foot sank into the flesh.

He jumped up and grabbed his crossbow, quickly loading an arrow and taking aim. Before he could shoot, the shuffling steps and a soft moan alerted him to his second attacker.

The man was almost as fat as his wife and twice as ugly. He stood naked; his small, rotted member hanging pathetically as he stood, globs of yellow pus leaking from it. Russell had wheeled around and pegged the fucker right in the head, sending the man to the floor with a wet splat.

His wife had been taken care of in the same manner, and after half an hour both bodies were hauled into the shower.

Now, the sound of the scratching sent a shiver of fear through him. He’d passed out on the bed shortly after downing the zombies and had forgotten about his pursuers until now.

Three days ago he’d been in Gainesville, scavenging what was left of a Sweetbay supermarket. He’d been hastily throwing canned foods into his pack when the zombies found him.

They’d been milling around the parking lot for awhile and hadn’t noticed him slip through the back. He knew he had lingered too long when one lone zombie slinked in and others began to follow. He stood up and walked behind a row of shelves, keeping the zombie in his sight. For the next ten minutes he ducked behind rows and rows of rancid food, almost finding the door when he’d stepped on a bag of chips. The damn thing popped under his weight, sending an explosive sound reverberating throughout the store. The zombies pinpointed him and swarmed.

He’d narrowly escaped out the back door, only to find more zombies pawing at the chain-link fence. For the last couple of days he’d been evading them in the forest, stopping once awhile when he thought he was alone to set up camp. Inevitably, after a few hours they caught up. How they kept finding him he had no clue, but at the moment he was sure they were surrounding the trailer.

“You’ll be fine Russ,” he said quietly, reloading the crossbow. He glanced over at the Winchester leaning against the wall and wiped the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. It was too risky to fire a gun; the noise would attract all of the undead for miles in the forest. He was safest using the bow.

Suddenly he heard a loud report that sounded as if it had come from some distance away. It was the first human noise he had heard in a long, long time. It gave him a glimmer of hope, and for a second he thought that he just might survive this.

Then the trailer started rocking as rotting, fleshy fists began to bombard the cheap home. Russell stood and grabbed his gun.

“Guess I’ll have to fight my way out, after all.”