Vampire's Guide to Zombie Wars

"Miss, are you alright?" came a deep, kind of raspy masculine voice, and I startled awake, and found myself in a decidedly unusual setting. I was lying on the pavement, and a tall, beefy older man in military fatigues stood over me, gun in hand. I blinked, and looked at him, a pale-skinned, ruddy-faced man with two days stubble. I was surprised to see apparent concern in his eyes. Such concern for a perfect stranger is unheard of these days...

The last thing I remembered was running to the roof of a nearby building, being chased by the Zombies. You'd think that since I'm a Vampire, they'd cut me some slack on account of being, technically, one of their fellow Undead, and you'd be wrong. I don't breathe. I lack a pulse. I am definitely not one of those sweet-smelling, constantly breathing and oh-so tasty humans. The Zombies wanted to mow me down and eat me, so I leapt off a building rooftop to escape them...

"I'm fine," I replied, and took the hand that the old military man offered. I thanked my savior, and took a look at the immediate area. There were eleven others around, six men and five men, all in military fatigues. I would soon learn that they were the last remnants of a detachment of U.S. Army soldiers sent to deal with a Zombie outbreak in the City of Boston, Massachusetts. Boston had fallen to the ravenous hordes of the Undead, and the soldiers had been among the first victims of the unstoppable onslaught...

"We need evacuation immediately," said a blonde-haired, slender female soldier, speaking into her radio. I could have told her that she and her compatriots were the only human beings for miles. As a Vampire, I possess olfactory powers probably a hundred times sharper than that of your average dog. Part of being a creature designed to hunt, capable of thriving almost anywhere. Exactly the sort of creature you want on your side at the end of the world...

"I'm Sergeant Miles, this is Corporal Patricia Johansen, and what's left of our unit, what's your name, Miss?" the older soldier said, and I took a long look at him and his fellow soldiers. They didn't smell infected, which was a blessing. I haven't had much to eat lately. The Zombies are a frigging problem, chowing down on humans left and right, barely leaving anything for yours truly. I cannot feed on the blood of the infected, and with humanity in short supply, I am in serious danger of starvation. Ergo, I want the Zombies gone as much as you humans do. Perhaps more...

"I'm Zainab Ali," I replied without hesitation, and shook hands with Sergeant Miles. If the old soldier noticed how cold my hands felt, he didn't say anything about it. I tried to make myself as mundane as possible. Channeling what I appeared to be into a veil of ordinariness that would fool the sixth sense that so many ordinary men and women possess when it comes to the supernatural. Humans for the most part are foolish but many have good survival instincts...

"Good to meet you, Miss Ali, I thought you were dead for sure, no pulse, and your body felt cold, I thought you were a Zombie, but you didn't have bite marks," Sergeant Miles said, sighing with relief. When he looked at me, he saw a tall, curvy young woman with medium chocolate skin, long curly dark hair wearing a leather jacket and blue jeans. I didn't look a day over twenty five, even though I was born in 1715 in the environs of Mogadishu and became a Vampire in 1735.

"Well, I'm definitely not a Zombie, sir, glad you folks found me," I said with a smile, and I nodded gratefully at the sergeant and the men and women in his command. The other soldiers looked at me dubiously. They knew that I wasn't a Zombie, yet they could also sense something was amiss. I am forever weary around mortals. In my homeland of Somalia, centuries ago, my kind were once massively hunted. In the Western world, Vampires are considered the stuff of myth, and of bad novels and over-the-top television shows.

In Africa and the Middle East, the people have a healthy fear of us and destroy us every chance they get. Hence why I left the Horn of Africa in 1916, after roaming it for over two hundred years, and moved to North America. I've wandered across America, Canada and Mexico for over a century. I just happened to be in Massachusetts when news broke out about the reanimated dead walking the earth, devouring anything in their path.

"No one is responding, sergeant, I think we're on our own," Corporal Johansen said, and she looked at the Sarge, who shrugged fatalistically. We were near Ashmont Station, right on the line between Boston's Dorchester area and the City of Milton. In this area, brave men and women had mounted a last stand against the Zombies, and lost. We had to get the hell away from here. The place was crawling with Zombies, even if none appeared visible in the immediate area.

If your enemies know where you are, don't be there, that's a very essential survival tactic. I patiently waited for sergeant Miles and his people to decide to get a move on. Surely enough, they did just that. Commandeering a pair of Pickup trucks, they high-tailed it out of there, but not in the direction I had hoped. See what I mean about humans and their foolishness?

"We'll make our way to the Boston Harbor, with any luck, we'll find a boat, and make it to the open sea, if there's anything left of our military forces in New England, they'll be at sea, it's the safest spot away from the Zombies," Sergeant Miles said, and I looked at the old man and resisted the urge to throttle him. How did he rise to the rank of sergeant by being so damn stupid?

Alright, let me explain something to you, dear readers. Beyond Boston lie a bunch of smaller towns like Milton, Avon, Brockton, Bridgewater and Hanson. Those towns are full of places which can be easily fortified against the Zombies. They're more likely to have survivors than congested, overpopulated Boston. Where there are lots of people means there'll be lots more Zombies. Going to the Boston Harbor by car means going through Boston, and facing its millions of Zombies. Bad idea. Comprende?

"Sergeant, if I may, the Boston Harbor is likely to be choked with Zombies, perhaps we ought to consider an alternate evacuation plan," I politely suggested to Sergeant Miles. The old man took his eyes off the road for a moment, and shot me a look. Before he could reply, I felt a slender yet firm hand grip my shoulders, hard enough to make me wince, in spite of my superhuman physique.

"I don't think much of your suggestions, lady, you should keep them to yourself," Corporal Johansen said, and the blonde servicewoman shot me a look of pure contempt. I sighed, and considered ripping her throat out. You have no idea how attractive that option suddenly looked to me. Never mind that I'd have to contend with a dozen or so heavily armed men and women with itchy trigger fingers. It would almost be worth it to taste Corporal Patricia Johansen's blood...

By my count, I hadn't fed on human blood in several days, and I was starting to lose my powers. The superhuman strength, uncanny reflexes and accelerated healing powers that all Vampires possess are derived from nutrients found in the blood of humans. We can survive on animal blood, but it's like bread and water to us. Human blood on the other hand is like champagne and caviar rolled into one...

"Corporal, that's enough," Sergeant Miles said, and Corporal Johansen looked at him and mumbled an apology before removing her hand from my shoulder. I smiled at her, catty as ever. Before this is over I shall taste your precious blood, Blondie, I silently promised myself, and I remained silent, as we drove into the night. We encountered quite a few Zombies, but made short work of them. In that regard, we were kind of lucky.

The average Zombie is a slow-moving, superbly stupid, uncoordinated, remarkably dull creature. It exists to spread the Zombie virus, by means of bites, scratches, and in some cases, projectile vomiting of infected blood unto humans. Zombies are no threat to a Vampire, unless the Vampire in question is weakened from bloodthirst and allows himself or herself to be cornered. When fully powered, I can move faster than a cheetah. Give me an axe, a sword or a loaded gun and I can kill lots and lots of Zombies before the fuckers even know what hit them...

We made our way to the Boston Harbor, and after fighting our way through it, we found a good-sized boat, The Rogue. After disposing of its infected owner, a middle-aged white man who looked like a corporate fat cat, and of his obligatory attractive, brown-skinned female partner, also infected, we had the boat to ourselves. After inspecting it and making sure it was operation and full of fuel, we set out to sea. We were lucky in that it was packed with goodies including tons of canned food, water, and even an oversized sleeping bag, which I claimed.

"Miss Ali, um, I'm sorry about Corporal Johansen, she can be a pain sometime," said one of the soldiers, a tall, athletic and square-jawed, dark-skinned young man. I was inspecting my sleeping bag which would provide an adequate refuge from the coming daylight when this ingénue approached me. I smiled at him and looked at his nametag. What kind of a name is Ram for a man of African descent? My face must have reflected my thoughts, for the young soldier smiled and nodded emphatically at me.

"Yeah, I guess, so, um, who are you again?" I asked, wondering how I was going to convince these human soldiers to let me sleep away the daylight hours. Humans can overlook many things when everything is going just fine, but when the world is going to hell, their senses are sharper, and they tend not to overlook a lot of things. Like weirdly attractive young women with weird quirks like sleeping during the day as the world falls to pieces all around them...

"Oh, I'm Ram Kinley, my father was Jamaican and my mother was Indian, I guess that's why I have a funny name," Ram said, smiling and extending his huge hand, which I shook. I looked at this handsome hunk of very delicious, very alive, and very sexy biracial human, and smiled at him. Judging from the way his scent changed, going from casual sweaty dude, to horny sweaty dude, Ram was feeling me.

"Well, tell your parents, when you see them again, that their son is a fine hunk," I replied, smiling flirtatiously. With everyone else on deck, Ram and I had some time to ourselves. I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine, and without another word, we drew closer to one another and kissed. Just like that, I got it on with a guy I just met. One good thing about trying to survive the Zombie apocalypse is never having to say you're sorry, and always seizing the moment...

"Hmm, you are something else," Ram said, and we hastily undressed, and then got our freak on. Naked, I stood before him. In mortal life, I'd been a beautiful woman, constantly praised for my stature, curviness and raw beauty. I'm five-foot-eleven, with large breasts, wide hips, thick and sturdy legs, and a big round butt. I know that I'm not for everyone and I'm fine with that. As Ram looked at me, I could tell that he liked what he saw...

"You got no idea," I replied, and I pressed my curvy body against his, my coldness against his heat. Ram pulled me close and kissed me, and I felt his strong, eager hands on my chest, and then he caressed my thick derriere, before giving it a firm slap. I kissed him, and licked his lips, and then his throat. I could feel his warm blood coursing throughout his body, and craved it. The living are oh-so tasty...

"Oh fuck," Ram whispered, as I fell to my knees, and grabbed his dick, which hardened and lengthened in my hands. I took Ram's dick into my mouth and began sucking it. Female Vampires like myself do a better job sucking dicks than normal gals because we don't need to breathe, and Ram was quite pleased with what I did for him. I got him good and hard, and then came the moment of truth...

"Ram, you handsome devilish soldier, I want you to fuck me, as hard as you can," I said, while tugging on Ram's hardened tool, and smiling wickedly. The hunky soldier pulled me to my feet and pressed me against a nearby table. His hands grasped my breasts and caressed them even as he pressed his body against mine. I wrapped my legs around him, while hanging onto his shoulders for support. Ram's eyes locked with mine as he thrust into me, burying his hard dick into my pussy.

"Hmm, you're so cold, but I don't care," Ram whispered into my ear, and I moaned softly, welcoming his heat inside of me. I hadn't gotten fucked in a good while, and Ram definitely helped this gal make up for lost time. My vaginal muscles clenched around his dick, and he pumped his hard tool in and out of me. I screamed loudly, enjoying this sweet moment. Unlike a lot of my fellow Vampires, I love to play with my food...

"You are my heat," I said to Ram, as we lay side by side on the cabin floor, and he looked at me in a weird way as I licked his face. Yeah, I'm a weird gal, so what? After some more bedroom fun, I sent Ram on his merry way right as the first rays of dawn were appearing on the horizon. Ram had been left with clear instructions not to disturb my sleep. After the night we had, that was understandable.

As I lay inside the sleeping bag, mercifully shielded from the daylight, I could hear the others moving about the ship. The soldiers were glad to be at sea, even though most of them had little boating experience, with the exception of Sergeant Miles. Ram was fun, but he wasn't the one I found myself thinking of. I wanted to have some fun with Corporal Patricia Johansen. Tonight, I told myself.

Massachusetts is called Ocean State for a good reason, and it is surrounded by water. Our little boat went from the Boston Harbor to nearby Rhode Island, which is sparsely populated, and full of gun-loving yet blue-blooded New England types. When we arrived at the port of Providence, the place was rife with conflict, as was the city beyond it. Indeed, tens of thousands of surviving humans found themselves pitted against hundreds of thousands of ravenous Zombies.

"Let's give them a hand," Corporal Patricia Johansen said, and Sergeant Miles nodded, even though he was in command, and not her. The other soldiers, including Ram, headed to the port, guns at the ready. I went with them, with the intent of slipping into a human stronghold, and hopefully get a victim or two while everyone else was focused on the Zombies. That is not precisely what happened...

"Welcome to the fray," shouted a male voice, as Sergeant Miles, Corporal Johansen and the others waded into a group of Zombies that surrounded a trio of armed humans. The soldiers bullets made short work of the thirty or so Zombies. Our little band was feted by those we rescued, a tall, slim red-haired man named Brent Watson, his plump blonde wife Sally, and their tattooed, frowning daughter Amelia, who looked like a college freshman.

We rode with the Watson family into the Zombie-infested City of Providence, whose citizens were reclaiming it, one block at a time. Much to my surprise, one of the blocks they managed to secure happened to house a local butcher shop. I went in, discretely of course, and found what I needed. Fresh blood, courtesy of a plump human male whose nametag read Dwight. The fool was hiding from the Zombies in the meat locker, and thought I was the rescue party. Dwight was oh-so wrong...

"Thank you Dwight," I said, and I stood there, relishing the warm human blood coursing through me. I hadn't fed in days, and sighed with pleasure. I felt so good it moved me to tears. Sensing a threat, I saw some of Dwight's reanimated former co-workers, three men and two women still wearing their kitchen aprons. Powered by Dwight's blood, I felt confident I could slaughter them all. Picking up a knife, I moved at super speed and stabbed each of the Zombies in the skull. They dropped to the floor, permanently dead this time. Nicely done, I thought to myself.

With humans starting to turn the tide of the war against the Zombies in Rhode Island, there just might be hope for Massachusetts and the rest of New England, if not America itself. I happily lent a hand in the war effort against the Zombies, since I didn't fear being infected, unlike the ordinary mortals around me. Ram and I fought side by side, along with Corporal Johansen, Sergeant Miles, and countless others. Block by block, we took Providence back from the mindless undead.

I regret to say that I didn't get a chance to kill Corporal Patricia Johansen, the soldier gal was killed in action during a firefighting pitting her and a squad of soldiers and militiamen against hundreds of Zombies in Cranston. I regret that I wasn't there, due to the fact that the battle took place in the daytime. When I found out about it, I went straight to Ram, knowing how distraught my erstwhile lover would be.

"I can't believe Corporal Johansen is gone, we didn't get along but I respected her," Ram said to me, his eyes moist, as we stood in his room, inside the makeshift barracks housing a few dozen soldiers in Narragansett. Once we cleared this tiny haven of its Zombie problem, fortifying it proved quite easy. There were only a hundred or so people around, including our little unit.

"I am so sorry for your loss, my dear," I replied, as I held Ram in my arms. The young man looked at me and shook his head. I smiled sadly and held him tight, playing the role of the dutiful girlfriend to the end. When I offered that we take a nightly stroll, in spite of the curfew, Ram agreed. We walked around, hand in hand, under the pale moonlight, and then I made my move.

"Ram, I have grown to care for you and want to be with you always, do you feel the same way?" I asked abruptly, as Ram and I stood under a tree, inside Fishermen's Memorial State Park. Ram looked at me and smiled, and instead of replying, he took my hand and brought it to his lips. This man is amazing, I thought, and if my Vampire's heart still beat, it would have gone aflutter with emotion...

"Zainab Ali, you're a strange woman, and I know you have secrets but I can't imagine my life without you in it," Ram said, echoing what I'd been feeling these past few months. Vampires seldom form bonds, being solitary hunters by nature, but sometimes we stick together, in the case of those who cared for one another prior to becoming Vampires, for example. I smiled at Ram, who took my face into his hands and kissed me.

"Good answer," I whispered into Ram's ear, and then I sank my fangs into his neck. In that moment, Ram left the world behind. The twenty-two-year-old Northeastern University dropout turned U.S. Army soldier that he'd been died, and was transformed, into something altogether inhuman. My bloodsucker's blood flooded Ram's veins, and triggered said transformation. I cradled Ram into my arms as he died, and hours later, when he was reborn, I was the first thing he saw...

"Zainab, what happened? You did something to me," Ram said, and he scratched at his neck, at a wound that was already healed. I looked at him, and smiled. As a mortal, Ram had been tall, dark and handsome. As a Vampire, he was simply magnificent. I kissed him. I couldn't help it. The lad was simply beautiful, and the thought of having him to myself for all eternity (or until such time that we no longer care for each other's company ) appealed to me immensely.

"Calm down, Ram, I made you eternally young and strong, and healthy, and I will show you wonders," I said, smiling after our breathless kiss. Ram looked at me, and marveled at what he saw. Vampires are masters of hiding in plain sight, the monsters that humanity encounters every night, yet seldom notices. As a Vampire, Ram could see me as I am. A creature that looks human but doesn't breathe, lacks a heartbeat, and will endure for all eternity unless slain. One of the world's true Immortals.