Zombie Girl P O V

"Don't do that, it's exactly what they want," I thought, shaking my head vehemently. I stood there, watching as the Others continued their slow, steady march toward a hail of bullets. Slowly, steadily, with unwavering resolve, the Zombies came at them, the ones with the guns. They moaned and shambled onward even as they got mowed down. I got clipped in the chest, and it knocked me down. I was smart enough to stay down, unlike the Others.

"Sanitation frigging needed here," came a female voice, and I kept my eyes open and carefully blank as the Breathers came, one by one, and they shot the Others. Sanitation is what they call it when they shoot us in the head, to end our unnatural lives, and they feel pretty damn good about it. I know this, but I don't know how I know this...

"Clear," another voice, a male, barked, and I looked at them, as they stepped over me. They even stepped on me, though, numb from head to toe, I felt no pain. I had blood on my forehead, it splashed over me when the walking corpse next to me got clipped. Indeed, its blood splattered all over my face. This was a stroke of luck, for it convinced the humans that I was already dead. Well, ahem, deader anyway.

I waited until I couldn't smell them anymore, the Breathers. I waited until they were gone. Then I waited some more. Slowly, I rose to my feet, and looked around. Hundreds of us were littered across the landscape, slaughtered by the Breathers. I looked at a corpse, and saw something hanging on its hip, a revolver in its holster. For reasons unknown to me at the time, I took it.

It felt good, to have the revolver in my hand, even if I scarcely remembered how to use it. I walked through the corpse-filled field, and followed the Breathers. As I sniffed the air, I sensed something...different. The Breathers, there were two different kinds, one slightly stronger and faster than the other, and they were working together against the Others, against the eternally hungry ones like me.

I closed my eyes as memories assailed my fragmented, rotting mind, as they often did these days. Days, nights, it's all the same to me now. I never sleep. I never rest. I walk on, always, driven by hunger. I can never make it go away, the Hunter. I've eaten the flesh of humans and that of Mutants. Nothing can satisfy my hunger...ever.

I wish things were different. It makes my whole day when I can remember...before. The firefight triggered some memories buried deep inside my mind. I remembered the creche, the lab in which I was made, not born. I remember emerging from it, the clean, beautiful laboratory, and onto a world of permanent darkness, of radioactive gray skies, a disgusting, nightmare world.

I remembered the joy I felt among my own kind, those that looked human, but were smarter, stronger and faster, the ones like me. Well, ahem, like I used to be. Mutants, that's what they called us, the normal people, those who were not special, the mundane. We numbered in the hundreds in those early days, but soon became thousands, for we were designed to be better than them in just about every way...

The post-Apocalyptic world in which we live is an ugly, barren place, but it's also home. I remember feeling thankful for it, for it's a world where my kind actually stood a chance. With their numbers drastically reduced thanks to Nuclear fire, the humans were rudderless when we took them on, and hit them hard...

I remember joining a newly formed Clan, as the males and females of my creche banded around a charismatic leader. I remember the leader's face. He was tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed, and he had a certain magnetic presence, even in a room full of supermen and superwomen. I remembered pledging myself to him. What was his name? Magyar, yes, that was his name. Alexander Magyar, the one that my kind, the Mutants, called our Liberator.

It's funny, remembering this specific name, when so much of who and what I was has been lost. I remember fighting alongside my Clan members, supermen and superwomen of every hue, black, white, brown, yellow, every skin color and every type of facial feature, hair color, hair texture. The former masters of the old world wanted us to be their genetically enhanced shock troops, able to infiltrate every type of enclave, every society, every culture.

I fought against the humans as my kind, the Mutants, spread across the face of the Earth. We slaughtered the humans by the thousands, by the tens of thousands. Humanity fought back, and we suddenly had a war on our hands. One day, we discovered that we, along with all non-botanical life on the planet Earth, had a brand new enemy...

As Mutant and human fought over what remained of post-Apocalyptic earth, the Hungry Ones, also called Zombies arose. They indiscriminately attacked human and Mutant, devouring anyone and everyone that couldn't get away from them fast enough. One day they came for me and my Clan, and I fought back. We were vastly outnumbered...

"Yolanda, watch out," said one of my acolytes, a tall, blonde-haired superwoman. I thought, and her name suddenly came to the forefront of my befuddled mind. Sheliza Hauser, who'd joined the Magyar Clan late, having been found long after the First Of Us rose from the bunkers where we'd been created by scientists from a bygone age.

"No," I cried, as a Zombie, who'd once been one of my fellow superhumans, sank its teeth into my arm. I yelped in pain even as Sheliza blasted the Zombie's head off with her rifle. I looked at my wounded arm, and Sheliza looked at me, her eyes moist, her lips trembling. I saw her face contort in resolve, and she raised her rifle, aiming for my head...

"Don't kill me," I yelped, even as Sheliza got ready to kill me, and I ran. It wasn't a brave thing to do. I'd been a brave woman all my life. Wounded with a fatal virus which would kill me and then reanimate me as one of the Undead, I fled. Sheliza fired after me, but her round went wild, striking my shoulder instead of the back of my head.

At the time, I thought that Sheliza missed, but I have since learnt better. Sheliza was an Infiltrator, trained since early on to become the best killer, the best spy and the best social chamaleon that our Clan had to offer. She couldn't miss a shot if she tried. In hindsight, I guess she let me go. I fell among a pile of bodies, both the truly dead and the reanimated dead. When I came to, I was...changed.

"My name is Yolanda," I said to myself, as I walked through the field, discretely following the Breathers. They're more organized these days. For the time being, the humans and the Mutants have achieved a sort of truce, they realized that with our numbers on the rise, we who are called Zombies are a threat to every type of human, the mundane and the artificially enhanced.

I don't follow them out of hatred, I simply must feed, and I am always hungry. Once upon a time, I was alive. I had dreams and goals. I wanted to find a worthy mate, a strong male, a fellow Mutant, and I wanted to wanted to become his wife. I wanted to have offspring by this once and future mate of mine. I wanted our offspring to have bright futures as rulers of the planet Earth.

For that to happen, I wanted my old Clan, the Magyar Clan, to succeed and become the dominant group among my fellow Mutants. I wanted us to lead all the Mutants on the planet to total domination of the planet by finally subjugating the humans once and for all. Humans are weak and stupid. Prowler, soldier, mother, I had it in me to be all of these things and more. Whatever my kind needed me to be...

Now I am just another face among the Undead horde. Actually, I don't even have a horde to be part of anymore. The Others got slaughtered, mowed down by the human/Mutant alliance, thanks to their sheer stupidity. I remember feeling lonely among the Others. Like me, they were slow-moving, and driven by the eternal hunger. Unlike me, they seemed incapable of intelligent thought.

I walked through the darkness, and saw through it clearly, and not because I'm a Zombie. When a normal human becomes one of the Undead, he or she remains largely the same, except for the hunger, the mindlessness, and the inability to feel heat, cold, pain, pleasure, or anything other than hunger. I may be a Zombie, but I'm no ordinary Zombie...

When I became a Zombie, I stopped being a member of the human race, whether mundane or special. I stopped breathing. I stopped needing things like sleep, or sex. I stopped feeling anything other hunger. Still, I was a superwoman, and not a mundane, and as a Zombie, I retained some of my special abilities such as my sharp senses, and my superior strength. I move a bit faster than the average Zombie, but slower than a human...

While stumbling through the darkness, I walked through the remnants of a park, and for some reason, it triggered a memory from deep within me. I had a flashback of Adam, my first lover. Tall, lean and chocolate-hued, with unruly dark hair and a beard. Adam Beauregard, my fellow superhuman, who emerged from the same creche I did.

"Yolanda, Adam, seriously, get a room, you two," my friend Sheliza Hauser said, on a night when we completed a success raid on a human settlement, years before the Magyar Clan was wiped out by the Zombies. I was in the park, by the water fountain, in the arms of my beloved Adam. He'd offered me a present, a battle-axe he'd wrenched from the hands of a fearsome human warrior before killing him...

"You should talk," I shot back, and Sheliza laughed, then walked away. I looked at Adam, this tall, beautiful young superman who cherished me above all others. People said we made a nice couple. Adam stood six-foot-five, tall even for one of us, and I was something of an anomaly at five-foot-nine, and in spite of resources being scarce, I was quite voluptuous.

"Yolanda, you look ravishing," Adam said, running his hands through my long red hair and caressing my porcelain skin. I stood on my tippy toes and kissed him. Adam kissed me back, and then, hand in hand, we headed for his tent. There, on that special night, Adam and I made love for the very first time...

"Hey, handsome, like what you see?" I asked Adam in a coy tone, and he grinned, then caressed my breasts. I lay there on a bed of furs, and my ardent, passionate lover explored my curvy body. In a community full of seemingly perfect superwomen and supermen, I looked almost mundane, and felt self-conscious about it.

"Come here gorgeous," Adam said, and he kissed me full and deep, then fastened his lips to my breasts. As he slid his hand between my thick thighs, I arched my back and moaned softly. Adam began pleasuring me, and I relaxed and enjoyed as he worked his magic on me. Adam kissed a path from my breasts to my round little belly, and finally, to the space between my legs.

"Hmm, yes," I whispered, as Adam buried his face between my legs, and began eating my pussy. Adam and I explored new pathways to pleasure that night. When he put me on all fours, spanked my derriere and fucked me from behind, I cried out in sheer pleasure, loving what he was doing to me. Adam fucked me and made me cum time and again that first night, and I couldn't get enough of him.

"Adam," I said, my voice hoarse, and unnaturally deep, even to my altered ears. I didn't sound like myself anymore, not with half-rotted vocal cords. Still, I could speak, something which no other Zombie can do...as far as I know. I thought about Adam, and wondered where he was. The last time I saw him was mere hours before the Zombie horde overran the Magyar Clan, devouring all my friends.

I felt...weird. Thoughts of Adam swirled about my head. I found myself yearning for what might have been. I wanted to become Adam's wife, and bear him sons and daughters. We'd regale our offspring with tales of the glory days when we Mutants conquered the world and crushed the inferior humans underfoot. Instead of achieving this dream, I'm this...thing. What have I become?

I wandered in the darkness, tracking the Breathers down, and finally found them. There was a firefight, another one, as the Breathers found themselves pitted against a sizeable Horde of Zombies. I saw that these Zombies moved a bit faster than usual, and almost smiled. They weren't ordinary Zombies, because they hadn't been ordinary humans when they turned. They were like me...

I waded through the clashing groups, desperately trying to get at the Breathers, driven by hunger. Finally, I reached the forefront, and nearly got taken down by a gun-toting human. I caught her in my arms and threw her away. I didn't throw away the human female out of kindness, niceness or altruism, not by a long shot.

Like all Zombies, I prefer to eat the flesh of the living, not the dead. Infected flesh is useless to me. The gunwoman was already infected and didn't know it, so her flesh was useless to me. Human, Mutant and Zombie fought one another around me, a cacophony of howls, roars, shouts, and gunshots. Amid the combatants, a quartet caught my attention...

A blonde-haired, fair-skinned Mutant woman was mowing down Zombies left and right, and by her side stood a tall, bald-headed Black man, a tall black woman wielding a machete, and a tall, slim Asian man. Working like a well-trained and formidable unit, they were taking down the Undead with what would have been considered military precision in a bygone era...

"Sheliza," I said, and I didn't realize that I had shouted the word. For a moment, the world stood still. Sheliza glared at me, and I registered shock on her face. Her eyes met mine. I knew what she saw. A grayish-skinned, mottle-faced, monstrous, Undead doppelganger of her former friend and fellow superwoman.

"Yolanda, you're back, I'm so sorry," Sheliza said as she raised her rifle, and once more aimed at me. I raised my gun, clicked off the safety, and fired. A Zombie which had been ready to sink its teeth into Sheliza's arm dropped dead. Well, deader. You get the idea. Sheliza stared at me, the female Zombie with the proverbial smoking gun.

"Sheliza, we are even," I said loudly as I dropped the now useless gun. There'd only been one bullet left in the chamber. It was now a piece of useless metal. Sheliza's companions looked at her, then at me, and hesitated. I'm an intelligent Zombie, their worst nightmare. They aimed their rifles at me. Let oblivion claim me and end this nightmare, I thought as I dropped to my knees and closed my eyes. But the shot never came...

"Yolanda," came a guttural, inhuman voice that couldn't belong to any human or superman, yet sounded awfully familiar. A cold, rotting hand clamped down on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and turned around. There he was, my Adam. He was naked from the waist up, his body riddled with bullets, his face bloodied from those he'd fed upon, but he was still smiling at me.

"Adam," I said, and if my heart still beat, it would have soared. I embraced my lover, relieved to see him again, even in this Undead state. Adam took my face into his rotting hands, and then he pressed his cold, dead lips against mine. I kissed him back. Hand in hand, we walked off the battlefield. For good.

What became of Sheliza and her new companions? I do not know. Nor do I care. I've got my Adam back, and we've got literally eternity to enjoy one another. I'm thrilled to have him back in my life, er, my, ahem, existence, I mean. Adam's changed, sure, but in other ways, I swear he's gotten better. So have I. What do I mean by that?

Alright, I've always been a blunt woman and I see no reason to change now that I'm one of the Undead. Folks, Zombie sex is definitely a thing. Adam never goes soft now, and it's wonderful. No more periods for me either. Isn't that cool? We're happy to be reunited and have decided to walk off the chessboard. Let the humans, the Mutants and the regular Zombies fight it out over who gets the planet. We've got each other, and that's enough.