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The dead become living

Short story By: Ashley I Read

Just a little story for B'Unique's comp. A slightly different look on a zombie story.

Submitted:Apr 20, 2013    Reads: 32    Comments: 5    Likes: 5   

So here I am. On my own on a Friday night, with nothing to do other than drink myself into oblivion. I've been drinking solidly for around six hours now, and I don't really think I'm going to stop any time soon. How could she do that to me… I need to stop thinking about her right now! Maybe I'll go for a walk to clear my head a bit, leave this bench that I have claimed as my cider soaked kingdom.

I stumble to my feet feeling as though I haven't used them in weeks. They seem rusty, as though they don't know their purpose anymore. I finally get a rhythm going, and my legs are working together to carry me onward and upward… to the next off licence. I reach a pitch black street and look around me seeing nothing but darkness. I'd normally be scared, but right now I welcome this scene. I can smell a distinct stench of burning, and if death had a certain smell, I'd say he was lingering too. I chuckled to myself as my imagination ran wild.

Content with the story I was creating in my head, I strolled on by. I say stroll, but if there was anyone else there, they'd describe it more as baby steps. All of this rushing through my mind and then I spot her. The finest young thing I was ever likely to meet in this town. She was wearing a long black dress with heeled shoes to match; her bag slightly dangling from her shoulder, ever so slightly bashing against her elbow as she innocently shuffled alone the pavement. What was she doing in this part of town alone at this time?

I approach her position and begin to prime myself to charm. I stuff half a pack of Wrigley's into my mouth even though I know that won't mask to smell of alcohol. I tap her on the shoulder, while saying, "Excuse me miss, I was just wondering if you wanted anyone to accompany you to safety." In my head, this sounded awesome, but realistically it came out as "Exiise m miissssss……. Wud u lyk s.. ss… ome safany?" On top of that, it probably looked and sounded very creepy coming from a drunk man in a dark street.

Despite my brilliant attempts to woo her, she did not respond. I should just give up… but I'm not going to. I waltz round her so that I am stumbling backward trying to face her. She has a very pretty face, although it's kind of pale. She doesn't look so well. I ask her if she's okay and she stares at me. It's the 'I want you' look. I start to feel excitement, as I believe I have pulled off my cheesy chat up line from before. She lunges toward me forcing me to the ground. In my head I'm thinking it's all good, we're in a dark alley. I feel her lips meet my neck, but they are cold. Not even cold, freezing!

I start to feel something is wrong, as though she doesn't want to do this, and I go to pull away, only for her hands to tighten around my wrists. Her mouth meets my neck once more, but this time I can feel her teeth caressing my skin, and I swear she is drooling. This chick is fucking crazy, but I'm not complaining! Finally she goes to bite me… and boy does this bite me. At first it felt amazing, but then it was a little painful. Then it got very painful. Then I was crying and bleeding. I was probably wetting myself at the same time. She scurried off into an alley and I was left bleeding on the floor. I don't mean, ahh a trickle of blood bleeding, I mean BLEEDING to death. There was no one around, and I could feel myself slipping into uncon…

A few minutes had passed before I woke up, not that I was expecting that to happen. I got to my feet, surprisingly stronger than I had been before. I walked to the end of the street and finally reached the main street of town. This place is rough normally, but jeez it is rough now. There are cars flipped and people lying on the floor. I consider turning around, but I don't want to meet chompy again.

I progress up the street in hope that I can get some help for the bite I received, which thankfully hasn't killed me. I can hear people screaming and shouting in terror. I run towards one particular girl to help as she screams. She takes one look at me and legs it quicker than I have ever seen anyone run. This bite must look horrible. That woman has appeared again, and I start to tremble through fear of another feasting. OH MY GOD! FEASTING! How have I not already noticed this? There's a fucking zombie apocalypse, and I haven't even noticed. I better run to safety.

I run toward a shop doorway begging for cover, but the door is slammed in my face. It's now that I see my reflection. I'm pale, and my eyes are bloodshot. I don't know what to do, is it too late for help? I need to find out, so I'll be heading to the hospital. It's only at the top of the road. I make a dash toward the hospital desperate for some refuge or some cure to get me out of this. I normally do stupid things when I'm drunk, but turning into a zombie is a whole new category. It scares me that everyone I run past is running from me, but at the same time, I keep having the sudden urge to chase them, catch them and go to town on them. This thought sickens me, but I cannot help but think it.

I reach the car park of the hospital and notice none of the ambulances are there. I suppose they are all out dealing with people like me; innocent people bitten in the prime of their lives. I run into the hospital staggering and moaning. This definitely was not a good move, as the general thinking was to shoot/hit me. I tried speaking, but I couldn't. Tears started to flush down my cheeks. Never in all my time watching zombie movies, have I ever seen one cry. I'm a gay zombie! This seemed to upset me more. I suddenly thought, the violence against me had stopped. A doctor was staring into my eyes, flashing a light into them and widening his own for a closer inspection. I heard him shout with relief, "We have one who is still turning!" Still turning huh? I like that! This means there could be a chance of my human survival. He grabs me by the arm and tugs me toward a door into a room that had the worst kind of stench. It was like the earlier one, but ten times worse.

I looked around the room to see what I would describe as enclosures. The first couple I passed had zombies who were like me, 'changing'. Then I came across one that startled me more than anything else. I'd always played resident evil, and seen the pictures of zombies on there and in films, but this was like no other. He was staring at me with a look of authority. As though he was the main man and I was one of his pawns. I could almost feel him inside my head telling me to chow down on this doctor's face. He looked so disgusting. His face pretty much ripped to pieces with flesh shards hanging from the exposed cheek bones. He was that hardcore that he had a missing arm… in his mouth. He had taken to ripping off his own limbs in order to survive, that's commitment to the cause. He had blood gushing from his stubby left arm and it was gooey and black rather than fine and red. The noise he made was enough to scare anyone, as it was an angry groan that chilled the spine.

I was in awe of this specimen, willing to do whatever it takes to survive. I hope he does survive. After all we're all victims in this. I couldn't wish for myself to survive and not the other infected. The doctor saw me staring at this blood soaked man-zombie and began to talk, "This man was found like this in his cell at the police station. He was thought to have taken some kind of drug, and it gave him this curse. He broke out and caused enough damage that this thing is spreading around the city." Alarm bells started to ring in my head as I was rueing the previous sympathy I had for this monster.

I spat on the clear wall of his enclosure, and he pounced at it, desperate for any kind of human DNA he could forage. He was really unlike anything I had ever seen. He was completely unaware, but his animal instincts were in full force. He poked his already rotting tongue out at the glass and spread the black mass of bleeding meat across the pane in hope he could salvage something nutritional for him. The look of confusion that came across him was something unparalleled.

This thing got me thinking about my own fate. I didn't want this. If there was no cure, I wanted to be put out of my misery. I motioned this to the doctor with a quick hand symbol of a gun to my head. He just shook his head and lead me on to a testing room. He began to talk to me, "I really hope you can understand me. I think we can fix this for you. We have something that has stopped progression in the more advanced walking dead. You are not even halfway through the cycle yet though. I think you may have been bitten by one that was a newcomer to the world of the un-dead." Never before had I been so grateful for being with an inexperience girl. I laughed in my head as I thought this, but this was stopped by a sharp pain in my chest. This was it. I was about to turn and eat this man's flesh from his bones like I picked him from a KFC bargain bucket.

He had in fact stabbed me in the chest. What a prick; leads me here, false promises of survival, just to kill me slowly. It becomes apparent that he is in fact trying to cleanse my heart. The infection apparently starts in the heart and cannot survive if the heart is cleansed. He then cut a gash in my skin on both legs, both arms, stomach and on my forehead. He said this will help bleed out the infected blood.

After ten excruciating minutes, I was apparently cleansed. The Doctor asked me to talk to him. I told him to "Fuck off". Astounded by how rude I was, more than my actual ability to speak I followed this up with thank you. I asked, "Has this worked for everyone so far?" His reply was, "You're the test subject." Great! Always the guinea pig never the rabbit. What? Why would I think that? I think I'm still drunk. Just as I get up to leave, I feel my stomach rumble like it never had before. I looked at the doctor and he looked worried. He asked if I was okay. I shrugged while staring intensely at him. He looked tasty, which was weird. I stood so that I was level with his eyes. He started to back away. His eyes were terror stricken as I stepped toward him in pursuit of my prey. Then suddenly I pounced, making a mess of my first meal as a zombie. He had seemingly cured me, but this just proves there is no cure for the un-dead.


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