by Guy James
But what if the zombies were gone? Milt wasn’t sure there were any zombies left now that he was out in the forest by himself.
The thought frightened him, but he knew that they couldn’t be gone. They were a part of him now, waiting to be reborn. He’d been bitten, after all, and here he was.
I am a zombie, Milt thought, I am…the greatest zombie of all.
The zombies remained. Milt the zombie was proof.
Deep inside, he knew the other zombies would come back, there was a way to get them from out of his own being. He felt this, and knew it to be true. If it was a disease, he was no doubt a carrier of sorts, waiting, lurking in the shadows for the perfect moment to unleash his biological, world-ending agenda once more.
The zombie apocalypse wasn’t over.
It was just about to begin.
Milt smiled, and searched for a bloated pimple to pop. Disappointed on not finding one, he began to plot his revenge against Sven, and against all of humankind.
***
In a similar wooded area not too far away, another pair of eyes opened to take in the sunlight.
Squinting uncomfortably, his body racked with a sickening thirst, the vegan raised a dry, crackling arm, and brought it up to his face. He scratched at the coarse hairs of his handlebar moustache, and began to remember.
TO BE CONTINUED...