I am not sure if I want to make a series of this or not. I've written more, but I am genuinely not sure how well received this might or might not be if it gets read.
TWs: Non-Con, CNC, painal
I trudged through the desolate streets, my boots kicking up dust along the asphalt with each step. The ghosts of empty buildings and nose-to-nose abandoned vehicles stood as a stark reminder of the bustling world that once was. The only supplies left in my pack were a beat-up old pistol and a handful of bullets. My water canteen was already dry, and I'd eaten the last of my rabbit jerky earlier in the day.
As I scavenged for supplies in an abandoned food truck, the faint noise of shuffling footsteps broke the eerie silence behind me. I spun around to confront the source and came face to face with a zombie, as I expected. This zombie was different. His skin, though pallid and tinged with decay, held a strange hint of vitality, as if he had just recently succumbed to the virus. Judging by how filthy and tattered his gym clothes were and the aged look of his smartwatch, he'd been wandering around for a while, though. He had several healed scars dotting his body, including multiple bite marks on his arm and shoulder.
"Well, aren't you a beefy fella," I remarked, instinctively reaching into my bag to grab the pistol.
"Wait," the zombie growled, the sound almost human, yet distorted and animalistic.
I froze mid weapon draw. The zombie took a deliberate step closer, his gaze locked onto mine with an unsettling intensity. His eyes were focused with a glimmer of intelligence amidst the somewhat vacant stare typical of the undead.
"Did you just speak?" My jaw dropped and my voice was tinged with disbelief and a hint of curiosity.
The zombie's growl intensified, and he took another step forward, his gaze never leaving mine. Suddenly, he lunged at me with surprising speed. I fired my pistol at the zombie's skull, but I stumbled backward and missed, causing the bullet to impact his chest with a wet thud. He pushed me to the ground. One of his hands swiftly pinned my arms above my head. He smelled like decay and moth balls.
Instead of biting, he just stared at me, "Pretty boy," he growled.
It was easy to see how handsome he must've been in life. His dull pale grey eyes looked to have remnants of vibrant blue, and his filthy hair was sandy blonde.
I noticed the smartwatch from before was one of the fancier ones with small solar panels on the side. The sun faded screen strangely read the zombie's vitals as active. He leaned into me and took a deep breath of my scent. Low rumbling noises almost like purs or sighs of approval escaped his throat.
"Wow, there, it's okay. No need to get violent." I said softly, not really sure what I was doing.
My heart pounded in my chest with terror as I wiggled one of my hands from his grasp and reached out to tap the watch's face. The back of my knuckles brushed his arm for a moment. His skin was oddly warm to the touch, at least 80°F, contradicting the coldness of the other undead I'd encountered. It took another few taps for the watch to register my touch. Each tap felt like a gamble for my life, but I managed to get the holographic display to appear. His health statistics displayed just visible enough for me to make out the numbers. They flickered low, but not zombie low. It was as if his body had decided to combat the virus by going into some sort of physical stasis.
I feel a surge of adrenaline as I try to process this information. This undead creature was different. I'm far too small in the grand scheme to consider the implications this could have for the fate of humanity.
I attempted to wiggle my other arm from his grasp, but the zombie snarled lightly, his lips parting to reveal a still mostly intact set of teeth, "Pretty boy," he growled low in his throat.
It was eerie hearing the undead speak. Despite showing signs of intelligence, he was still unnaturally strong with a firm grip typical among the undead, which meant he was still a threat.
I attempted to reason with him, "Hey, I'm sure we can work something out, big guy?"
The zombie stared at me. He seemed to consider my offer. His facial expressions shifted subtly. He released his grip and sat back a bit with his eyes still locked on me. It took everything in me not to attempt to get up and run as fast and as far as I could, but I knew I was wearing out quickly. This zombie would hunt me down, especially if he was even remotely intelligent.
"Do you know your name?" I asked softly while I still avoided eye contact.
His gaze remained unwavering and unreadable for an unnerving amount of time. I thought for a moment that maybe he didn't understand the question. His lips parted slowly to allow his soft growl to escape his chest. I got goosebumps and the extreme urge to get away, but I stayed put. Whether I stayed out of fear or curiosity, I wasn't sure.
The zombie's growls died down. He took a deep breath, as if to gather his thoughts, "Z-Z-Z-..."
"I can call you Z if you can't say it."
Z smiled, "Z," he repeated, his voice hoarse and rough.
Z reached out and grabbed my face in his large hand, "Pretty boy," He growled again.
I flinched at the sudden contact, but didn't pull away. Z's expression looked desperate for something.
I hesitated before saying, "My name is Logan."
The zombie's eyes widened slightly at the sound of my name, and for a moment, he seemed almost human. His grip on my face loosened slightly.
