Redhead Zombie

Closer. As they were getting closer with each passing second, the sounds of their chattering teeth grew only louder behind him, sometimes covered by their never ending wheezing. Still, he ran, away from them, into the unknown of the deserted streets.

He felt it coming far ahead, the weakness in his knees, his breath getting short, his heartbeat becoming unbearable as it resonated in his whole body, pulsating with the inevitability of a deadly countdown. He rushed faster, yet they could now nearly grab him.

He was at his breaking-point when...

"Mike!"

He woke up with a jump, panting heavily.

The woman who had called him let out a sigh and he heard her walk away. His vision wasn't clear yet, blurred by his sudden awakening state, and wouldn't be completely until he'd... there they were. Having reached for his glasses on the side, he pulled them toward him carefully before picking them up.

The glasses on, he could distinguish the thin filthy blanket he had tossed to the side during the night, the hard and cold floor, the four white walls all around. The warm sunlight greeted him through the holes in the rooftop. Mike didn't answer. He was done with the sun already.

He got up though, groggy, tired and hungry. Mike made his way out of the room, to find most of the camp awake, busy or eating what passed as breakfast here.

The dozen of them had found this remote building to stay and organize themselves. It had an exterior fence to protect them, and was big enough for everyone to have their own room, but they still had to do without proper beds. Hence, the horrible sleep he was getting every night. It has been weeks now.

Mike took up some snacks -ketchup flavoured!- and a bottle of water from what was left of their food stock, piled up in the centre of the room. He was really starting to wonder what the fuck they'll eat when they run out of snacks and cans.

Well, him at least. He was pretty sure some people here had access to better food, but hey, inequalities existed just the same at the end of the world.

Mike was about to leave when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder. As he turned, he recognized Tim, a tall and bald individual, towering over him in a friendely way.

"Wassup Mike?"

The man with the glasses hid behind his teeth, with a grin, all the disdain he had for Tim.

"I'm okay man. What are the news?"

"We're getting low on food and water. You mind coming with me today so we can bring back some?"

Oh, not for the world, motherfucker.

"Actually, I had already planned to go in town. To, huh, pick up some personal stuff, you know? So I'd rather be alone," Mike tried to explain.

But Tim's sudden frown was a clear clue that he saw right through his bullshit.

"No way. It's dangerous out there, you'll need me with you. Gather your stuff, we'll go when you're done eating."

Mike knew it would be useless to protest, and let Tim walk away in order to get ready.

The young man tore open his bag of snack with a swift motion testifying the rage this brief encounter had built up within him.

He didn't really hated Tim. He thought of him as immensly obnoxious though. The first reason was his irritating demeanour. The man acted like he was the boss around here and loved to shout orders at everyone in the camp. He was efficient, for sure. But Mike never got along with people of the commanding, high-and-mighty type.

The second reason...

"Ha, so you're up now?" a feminine voice asked mockingly from behind him.

Mike turned around, munching the last bits of his snacks, when his sight met the hypnotical blue stare of Joanna.

He gulped down the snacks.

"I am, early enough to be recruited by your guy," Mike answered, barely containing his growing bitterness.

"Too bad. Try to make it out alive, it'd be a shame if you'd get eaten," she teased again.

So that was the second reason he couldn't stand Tim: Joanna.

Among the camp, aside from himself, who was a man in his early twenties, there were a few teenagers, a kid, two guys of undefined age, an elderly woman, Tim and two women about his age, Kim and Joanna. Kim was definitely hot, if you liked the toned, short-haired, impulsive kind of girl, but also definitely a lesbian.

The point being that he could only bang Joanna if he wanted to release the seed accumulating in his pants since the Apocalypse. And God knows he would love to.

Joanna was this tall, curvaceous blue eyes beauty, constantly walking around the camp in crop top and stupidly small shorts that showed off white legs of divine crafting as well as a round ass. But that wasn't it. Part of the irresistible appeal she had on him came from the fiery torrent of red hair cascading all around her face and down on her naked shoulders. Every time she spoke, Mike suffered a painful longing for the touch of her thin lips on his skin, her frail hands that could caress him for hours.

But no. She was with Tim, and there was no way around it.

"Excuse me, I need to get prepared."

Mike suddenly walked back to his empty room. He couldn't look at her longer, as less than a minute of interaction had already made his cock throbbing in his pants, his hard member rubbing against the fabric.

Son of a bitch.

He drank a mouthful of water to cool himself off, with only little effect.

Still cursing silently, Mike grabbed a bag pack to carry what he'll find and a hand axe to defend himself.

This better go just fine, or things could turn really ugly in no time.

He met with Tim outside of the building's fence. The man held a gun in one hand and utter confidence could be read in his eyes.

"Let's go. I know a place that hasn't been completely raided yet. I'll take the front, you watch my back," commanded Tim.

Mike nodded and followed him as they made their way toward the main area of town, from the outskirts where they were.

The only defining rule of this new world was silence.

The city, formerly so busy and noisy, had now fallen under a thick veil of mute immobility. The two men spent every part of their energy to blend in this desolate environment. Each breath had to be controlled, each movement had to be the stealthiest they could.

The shadows cast by the tall buildings almost disappeared as the sun rose at noon, but it wasn't enough to ease their mind. The city was full of corners, paths and recesses to hide atrocities they'd have made everything to avoid. Every step further into the street had one of them descending deeper into the anguish of a sudden attack.

Mike could feel sweat dripping from his forehead, despite the medium temperature of a day in the beginning of spring. He would glance around relentlessly, tightening the grasp on his axe, while Tim walked a few steps ahead.

Through the course of his many expeditions to the city, Mike had got used to the silent metropolis and the eeriness of the trips alone among the giants of concrete, with the ever-present knowledge of being watched and followed by the mindless creatures that wandered all around him in the vestiges of their civilisation. However, he could never become accustomed to the powerful stench of rotting flesh that filled the air, as a suffocating reminder of the corpses left abandoned in the street.

Their path suddenly met a dead-end. The insufferable scent had only grown stronger as they approached what looked like a small mountain of trash bags, piled up, most of their content having spilled freely from the ripped open bags.

"Hey, you're sure you know the way?", Mike asked with a worried tone.

"Yes. We're here," swiftly replied Tim.

"What?"

The man bent and began pushing some trash aside. He'd pick a bag, hold it at arm's length and throw it behind him, and start again.

As Mike glanced at him in confusion, he finally explained himself.

"You think I would have my stock in plain sight for everyone to pick?"

"You hid it? You fucking hid food in a pile of garbage? How fucking stupid are you?"

"Shut up," growled Tim.

Mike rolled his eyes back and turned around. He refused to help this guy in his moronic endeavours. He put it in the trash? Well he could pick it up from the trash himself.

Mike was using his free hand to massage his temples when he heard Tim shouting violently.

"What, you found a dead rat?"

His eyes quickly found Tim. The guy had sheer terror shaking up his face, unable to steady his guns with hands that couldn't stop trembling.

In front of him, a silhouette had emerged from the pile of trash, in a slow ascension to the surface. The garbage being pushed out of the way rolled toward both of them as it crawled out.

"What the fuck Tim? Shoot dammit!"

Tim responded with some unintelligible mumbling. He raised his gun. Brought it down immediately.

The creature kept creeping closer.

"What are you doing?!" Mike asked again.

He was known for being a rather level-headed person, but right now, every second ripped from Mike a little more of his usual cool. And that was bad, really bad. Each decibel that was getting added to his voice increased the chance of other creatures in the city noticing them.

He couldn't help it. Tim's sudden strange behavior and incapacity to act was freaking him out. It was only one of them! Didn't he see him blasting off the head of dozen of these creatures before?

"It... it fucking bit me! Alright?!"

Mike froze.

Now that he had confessed to it, he could make out a red, bloody mark spreading across his right forearm.

"Do something! I need some fucking help!" Tim howled in despair.

No, there was nothing he could do. Everyone knew what happened when you get bitten by one of those. In under a few minutes, pain will take over him and torture his body constantly with the sting of a thousand invisible needles without ever offering him the blessing that would be unconsciousness. He would be rendered unable to talk, with blood being the only thing getting out of his throat. His limbs will go numb over the course of about two hours. Then he will die in the worst possible way, fully aware of what will be happening yet unable to stop it as his life will fade away. And rise again as an undead monstrosity.

There was no way he would have to put up with dead Tim after suffering through alive Tim.

"Mike, what should I-"

As Tim turned around in search for help, a shadow clouded his face from the sun. His eyes widened in terror.

Mike's axe thrust into his skull and split his head in half. Gore sprang from the wound, bone and bits of brain spurted in every direction, including Mike's, in a violent torrent of disgusting body fluids.

Mike let of go of the axe, impossible to retrieve for it had digged too deep into the flesh, and reeled back.

Tim's corpse fell on the ground heavily.

His mind blank from the shock, Mike cleaned most of the blood of his face with his shirt.

In front of him, the creature had finished to extract itself from the pile of trash bags.

The undead stood there, mouth agape and blood-spattered. It had a human form, although modified to an extent that allowed anyone to see that the only things left of humanity in this monster was the features of its shell.

Its frail legs carried it forward, on dirty bare feet, despite still having the graceful nature from when they were owned by a living person.

Mike gazed at it, hypnotized by this embodiment of War, Pestilence, Famine and Death, all inside one creature bearing the features of a woman. It wasn't that she was terrifying in a way superior to the ones he had encountered before, this undead; he simply never got to see one this close, and in such violent circumstances. This slender, slow walking body, that didn't even had a soul, a mind, only working with the corrupted action of a diseased brain, with one bite had pushed him to kill someone he didn't even get along with.

The situation was horrific, yet Mike didn't move one muscle, except for his eyes, closely following the advancing movement of the undead. In this weird moment of pause, he had started to notice details from the woman's body eager to cause his doom. Looking past her greyish skin partly covered in blood, dry and brown or new and bright red, Mike had his mind entangled by the vision of her striking long red hair. It was messy, dirty, falling over part of her face and even, oddly enough, missing locks, but he couldn't get it out of his head.

Flashes of Joanna passed before his eyes. The redhead girl he wanted to fuck for so long.

The undead woman wasn't as much of a stunner as Joanna, even without the "death" thing going on, but she was definitely something to behold. Maybe for the twisted pleasure of having something beautiful turned into a rotten killing machine.

It could be her sister. Joanna's.

Mike felt sick. No way. She never mentionned she had one. They didn't looked alike, she just had red hair. Not that he could really tell, though, with part of her face having rotten away, leaving holes in the flesh. A bit of her left cheek was gone, and her jaw could be seen through it. Around the area of her forehead, it was so damaged that her white skull underneath could briefly appear if Mike looked at it with the right angle.

The undead was now one meter away from him, Tim's corpse lying between them.

Her cracked white lips were parted on teeth that yearned for warm human flesh. A low growl came out of her throat, strangely left unscathed enough to produce sound.

Mike couldn't take his eyes off the undead anymore. Despite the wounds on her skinny arms and legs, sticking out of her only piece of clothing, a cute white dress with flower patterns, torn in multiple places, she had an unshakable attraction on him.

Days he hadn't fucked. No, months.

What the fuck

, he thought, in a sudden blast of consciousness.

Run, you idiot.

The undead bent down, mouth opening with lips curling back, hands ready to grab, and her teeth dug through the flesh as she bit down a chunk of Tim's torso. She proceeded to chew on it, standing up a bit, expressionless, and blood dripped from her mouth, running down her chin, to the cleavage showing because of her bent position and her loose dress. The piece of meat was too big for her little mouth, and she seemed stuck for a bit.

Mike felt a slight movement down there. He shifted on his feet, and his hard cock rubbed against the tight fabric of his pants.

"Shit," he muttered.

The undead switched her attention to him. She moved, slowly. She seemed careful, as much as a sinister creature of death can be. Her teeth kept chewing. The blood kept dripping down.

Mike hesitated for a second, then unsfastened his belt. His pants dropped to the ground.

The undead walked closer. One step after another. Her skinny leg bending, cryptically rising the other one up, despite the lack of strength her appearance might had suggested.

He squatted down, waiting. He could see her eyes, entierely white, her teeth soaked in blood, her dress ruined by dirt, holes, parts ripped up. Her breath and the disgusting stench of the flesh reached his nostrils. She was right in front of him, always getting closer.

He motioned down, on the asphalt warmed up by the sun. Instinctively, she followed. He was sitting on the floor, her kneeling between his legs. The piece of Tim's torso was still huge in her mouth, and she was chewing with patience, reducing the meat bit by bit.

His hand reached and grabbed at her chest through the soft fabric of her dress, not even making any noise as he squeezed the braless breast. Her behaviour or expression didn't change at all as he did. She moved closer, again, closing the distance between them, forcing him to bend his arm to keep cupping her breast.

Mike fondled it gently, surprised to find it very similar to any living woman's chest. However, after his fingers caressed the nipple and playfully pinched it, some sort of liquid came out of it and dampened her dress in the surrounding area. Mike reacted by retracting his fingers slightly, before going back at it. This whole part of her body had become moist, without much liquid coming out, yet when his hand trailed down her terrifyingly cold arm, it was firm, almost hard as stone.

The undead seemed pretty aggressive now. Her chewing pace had picked up and she was at least halfway through her meat.

He decided it was time to move on to the next part.

His hands ventured on to her thighs, left bare by her short dress. They felt like hard sticks of bone under his caressing fingers, but nonetheless rewarded him with a pleasant sensation with the odd smoothness of her glacial skin.

He progressively reached higher and his hands disappeared under her dress until they met the erotic fabric of her panties. The violent contrast of the soft underwear on her hard skin was all the more exciting for Mike.

Despite a desperate need for control and restrain, he grabbed at the pair of buttocks still concealed by the panties with the most powerful urge of lust he had ever experienced. They were rather small for an adult female, but pretty firm, and thus, desirable. Mike, however, couldn't tell if it was their natural state or a consequence of her becoming an undead. Not that he cared.

He suddenly tugged down her panties to her knees. With her dress still on, he couldn't contemplate her as a whole yet, but imagining what the grim beauty hidden under it made him shiver and sent his mind into a perverted fever.

Mike extended his arm, and grasping on to the upper part of her dress, just below her cleavage, revealing it even further with its wet grey nipples, pulled her down with him as he lied completely on the warm asphalt.

She was intently staring at him, her mouth closed in her mastication. Her whole face was contorted, especially her brow, tensed up so much it made her white eyes looks bigger and possessed by some great rage or madness that her damaged throat couldn't express.

Pushed over the edge by her furious facial expression, mentally swearing he had never witnessed something so hot before, Mike grabbed her by the waist, a hand on each side, and slammed her down on his stomach. He had brought her to sit on him, though her legs were back and bent in some unnatural position. But never minded that, when his dick, recently freed from his boxers, was gently rubbing against her bare butt, under her dress. He whimpered as the contact of her cheeks kept making him harder.

Being through experiencing the softness of her behind, Mike slid his hands under her dress and lifted up the piece of fabric in order to expose to his eyes everything below her stomach.

What he found there, beside some wounds and flesh already falling apart from decomposition, were small and thin pussy lips. From what he was staring at, they were miraculously unharmed and as clean as it could have been in the Apocalypse.

No more hesitation. He brought her over his crotch by rising her thanks to his hands on her waist. Mike pulled her down to fulfill his desires, and jammed his cock directely inside her, conjuring a powerful sigh of pleasure produced by all the air in his lungs being removed at once.

In her, it was a little warmer than her cold exterior, the deliciously moist hole wrapping around his dick with great delight for himself. Mike didn't expect the undead pussy to be that tight and pleasurable. It was almost as if his dick was trapped inside it in a state of perpetual stimulation by the hole trying to close the gap opened by the throbbing limb.

His lips, without his consent and out of his realm of awareness, met then parted again to let out another quiet exclamation of lust. Despite the tightness and the resistance generated by it, his cock was pushing all the way in. In no time, he could felt her all around him.

Fuck, it's way too good!

"Fuck!," echoed his voice after his mind.