“I think he was the last one.”
“Oh God, I hope so,” he said, slipping his trigger finger out from under the shotgun and flexing the cramp out of it. “I don’t know how much more I could take of this.”
She looked at him, frowning at his chattering teeth. “Don’t crap out on me.”
“I’m fine,” he said, soothing his male pride with a puffing out of his chest. “No harm in being truthful. You’re just hanging on too, admit it.”
She rolled her eyes and peered out from behind the post box. “I’m cool and the gang, granddad,” she couldn’t resist the dig. “I’ve been training for this day for two and a half years. The world is finally making sense.”
His jaw dropped as he scanned the suburban street. “Making sense?” He looked at the headless bodies, the smattering of small fires, the police car on its roof with its siren broken and wailing like a deranged walrus. “Jesus, where did you grow up?”
“Online,” she whispered back. “I was doing important things like learning how to kill them whilst you were busy making money and screwing everyone over.”
“Shut up,” he said, putting in two new cartridges and snapping the gun closed. “Bumming off the state to sit and home and play ‘Left For Dead’ is not a worthy pursuit, don’t dress it up.”
“Saved your ass though, didn’t it?” she winked at him, grinning at his grimy, ripped suit.
“Now listen here young lady-” his lecture was interrupted by a mournful groaning that ended the bickering.
She pointed at a garden towards the end of the street and began to pick her way through the debris. He sighed, hefted the shotgun up and followed her.
For once, he got there before her, having chosen a better route. He peered through the fence, seeing the zombie (who looked like he was once a fireman) dashing a poor woman’s skull against the garden path. He would have vomited, but there was nothing left inside him. The fading blush on the woman’s cheeks suggested a recent kill.
He could hear the girl, whose name he still didn’t know, swearing at a piece of car wreckage that had snagged her jeans. The zombie was too set on his task to notice, digging into the gash he’d made and parting the woman’s skull like it was nothing more than a stubborn walnut shell.
He knelt there, shotgun across his knees, fixated on the horror playing out in front of him. The zombie scooped out the brain, but then contrary to everything he and his annoying fellow survivor had seen that day, he didn’t just shove it straight into his mouth. Instead, he swayed back up onto his feet and lurched towards the house, holding the brain in outstretched hands ahead of him.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, almost crashing into him as she arrived. “Drop him!”
“Wait!” he pushed the barrel of her shotgun to one side as she levelled it at the zombie. “He’s different; he’s taking the brain somewhere.”
“So he’s a zombie and a weirdo with it? Big deal; still gotta die.”
“For God’s sake,” he said, pushing the barrel again. “It might be important. I’m going to see where he takes it.”
“Fine, it’s your funeral granddad,” she shrugged. “But when he turns on you, I’ll drop you like all the rest.”
“You’re all charm,” he muttered, and vaulted the fence.
He followed the zombie up the path, noting how it hadn’t turned towards them, even when their whispers had got louder. It was more focused than any of the zombies they’d dealt with that day.
It stepped into the house and he followed it inside, gun pointed at the back of its head like she had taught him. It moaned a little as it entered the living room, he jolted when he heard a second moan as if in response.
He edged up to the doorway and peeped inside to see the male zombie offering the brain, still dripping, to a female zombie reclining in one of the armchairs. Even though her eyes were glassy and unfocused, she tilted her head towards him and – could he be imagining it – seemed to smile at the gift with spasms at the corner of her mouth.
He ducked back into the hallway as she devoured it, wiping the sweat from his forehead and leaning against the wall. Shooting the ones that had been desperate to eat him had been easy. Well, easier once he’d met the teenager and she’d shown him the best way to do it. But could he kill them if they still retained emotions and the capacity to care?
Then he remembered what the zombie did to the woman in the garden.
He raised the barrel again and stepped into the front room. She was on her feet now, they were locked in an embrace, with no chewing involved. Both were making soft noises like his rumbling stomach, and neither had seen him.
A thunder crack from a gun broke his voyeurism, the shot hitting the man in the back of his head and dropping his body just like all of his fellow victims. The female zombie roared in distress but before she could move a second shot finished her too.
“Haven’t you learnt anything?!” the teenager yelled at him. “Hesitate and you’re dead. God, you’re rubbish!”
“They were in love.”
“Whatever,” she said, reloading the shotgun. “They’re the last ones, I’m sure of it. Let’s get moving.”
She left but he couldn’t take his eyes off the couple lying dead on the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said, and left the lovers’ blood mingling on the carpet between them.
This is my entry for the Zombie Luv Flash Fic Contest. I hope you enjoyed it! In accordance with the guidelines, here is the info about the contest.
- The story must be a romance between two zombies. Make it as horrific as you like. 😉
- Stories containing animal cruelty, torture, graphic sex or violence, any form of exaltation of violence, racism or other forms of prejudice will be immediately disqualified.
- Post your entry on your own blog, with a title resembling this:
- Leave your story title and a link to the story entry post as a comment at mari’s randomities: http://marisrandomities.blogspot.com
- Copy and paste the contest logo and the guidelines at the end of your entry post.