


Ground Zero

by D3U EX M4CH1NA



Category: Zombie Fallout
Genre: Horror, Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2013-06-14 23:30:26
Rating: M
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8175748/1/
Author URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/4030956/D3U-EX-M4CH1NA
Summary: Have you ever wondered where the first zombie originated? Then read this short story, but beware the material is graphic. *Sidenote* This has nothing to do with the book Zombie Fallout and is its own story.





	Ground Zero

Ground Zero

_Because my best guess_

_Is that your life came like this_

_A disheveled mess_

_Tangled in a spiders web with its_

_poisonous kiss_

_It utters from its lips_

_"Death… It's imminent."_

* * *

So now… as I stare at a soulless, decomposing body in the corner of an equally decaying two story house. The body, so far decomposed no one would be able to correctly identify it. No one would know its gender, or whether that person was young or old. No one would be able to see any of these identifiers in one solid glimpse. The body, bouncing in my view as I see it there sitting, rotting with its stench in the corner of the room. I am kneeling on all fours, like some animal, twelve feet away as I stare into its steadily bouncing lifeless holes it has for eyes, what was once the window to its soul. Its putrid odor is overwhelming, and tears fill my eyes. These tears are not a reaction from the infectious stink, but rather from… remorse. Why does the lifeless body bounce, why the remorse? Well…

If you want to know how pungent the stench of a partially decomposed body is, then place an uncooked egg and raw meat within a zip-lock bag, seal it with just a little bit of air, and leave it outside for five days in the middle of record breaking July heat. Then pop the bag and allow the horrid stench to fill your nostrils. An alternative, which may be more appropriate in order to obtain the smell I am sensing now, would be to find road kill on the side of the road, a rabbit or squirrel that has been sitting out in the heat for a week, and press down on its bloated stomach with your foot till it lets out a high pitched squeal of flatulence. The smell that follows is so horrendous it turns your stomach, it makes you want to vomit the undigested chunks of food you have in your stomach; your body, rejecting those chunks of food as if those were the culprits responsible for the heinous odor filling the air.

This remorseful feeling I get, it did not arise because I committed the unmentionable act which caused this lifeless body. It's not because I knew the person that no longer is and has left this body like an unanimated puppet. No, these remorseful tears trickle down my face because I imagine what could have been. I imagine all the birthdays, dinner parties, and exciting events with friends and family this person will never have. I imagine what it could have been like to meet this person, this person who could have been my savior, my godsend. This unanimated corpse of a person may have been able to get me out of this hell hole of a life I lead. Now they are dead.

My life is like that wolf that mangles itself in razor wire when it's drunken with rage from rabies. It believes the more it thrashes and bites it can free itself of this monstrous invisible force with finely pointed shiny teeth that are shredding through its skin and internal organs. Only after it tires itself out, then it accepts its fate that today is its last day on earth. Then by some divine miracle, or rather divine hatred, the animal's body is freed and all that remains entangled is one of its legs. As it peers down in all of its stunning pain at this limb still entrapped by this string of razor sharp teeth, it struggles to free itself. The more it tugs the tighter this string gets, and the more it feels this intense shooting pain as it radiates all the way up to its brain. The intense pain becomes so unbearable that the wolf comes to the conclusion the only way out; the only way to stay alive is to gnaw its leg off. I am that wolf, except even after I amputate my limb with my own teeth, as I turn to walk away from where I once was, another limb gets tangled. Then after I have chewed away all my limbs, some other body part finds its way into the razor wire entrapment. I have come to the conclusion that I will never be free from this penetrating pain, and this is why I believe it was divine hatred rather than divine miracle which allowed me to live.

As these thoughts juggle themselves inside my head, I cannot help but let out a soft giggle because although my thoughts, as sickening and tainted as they are, are not nearly as atrocious as the vile act I am in the middle of committing. I have not been entirely forthcoming with information regarding my current situation. Yes, there is a partially decomposed body sitting in its own soup of liquefied rotting flesh with such a putrid odor that it penetrates through every crack of this house. Yes, the rotting corpse is in the corner of the same room I am in, it is indeed approximately twelve feet away from my face, it is steadily bouncing as I stare into its lifeless eye holes, but the decomposing body is not bouncing, instead I am bouncing. I bounce with every thrust this 250 pound man pummels me with in my ass as he kneels behind me. I hear moans come from this guy as he blows his load of pearly white strings deep inside me. It's right as he blows his load, which seems like instead of shooting sperm he ejaculates every thought he has ever formed, inside me.

Of course I thought it strange to be asked to meet in the dank part of town, oh yes and how shady it was of him to request to have sex next to a rotting corpse which has been carefully placed within a condemned house. What was most disturbing was that this man, with his nice silk tie, dark gray Armani suit, black leather shoes, white gold cufflinks with a matching tie bar, and his gold ring encrusted with diamonds; this man kept looking at the decaying heap of a body. In fact, he never once broke his stare, not even during his orgasm. That's when it hit me. He knows the body; he brought me here because he gets off on this. I search the body with my eyes as he finishes and slides his limp dick out of my ass. He mutters the words, "What was so funny bitch?" "Uhh… nothing." I reply. I notice a partially decayed stomach with a lump, which of course I thought meant that this was an overweight man. No, this is a decomposing body of a pregnant woman!

"Oh ok, for a second there I thought you knew what I was thinking. You know it's like when I cum, I have this moment of extra normal clarity. Everything I think of just comes rushing in with a million other thoughts and I can solve all my problems." The man said. "Ok…." I respond softly, as to avoid an awkward murder conversation. "You know," he continues. "I know that lady there in the corner, in fact you could say we were intimate partners at one time or another, and that lump there, you know her belly. That's my child." By this time I'm thinking, "Oh great, now he's going to murder me. He had no remorse for murdering this Pro that got pregnant with his kid, so what would hold him back from killing me?"

What caused me to go into this line of work? Possibly addiction and my child's survival. Addiction to what? Well…. Addiction is the bane of my existence. It comes in waves, but I can time these waves to the exact second and they come every day. If I do not feed the monster, then it will not go away. Simple as that. Addiction is better put in terms of alcoholics because most everyone would know what an alcoholic is after when giving into their addiction, but my substance of choice is not one most would chase after. To an alcoholic, when the craving for alcohol hits, the smell is like perfume of a beautiful woman with scrumptious curves. She tantalizes you, playfully taunts you to the absolute breaking point. Blows you a kiss, winks at you, and gently slides her phone number across the table to you. You know you want to call in order to go out or hook up, but remembering you shouldn't in order to maintain your dignity. One phone call won't hurt, one drink won't hurt. Right when you order that first drink you feel nervous, like waiting naked on the bed for that extremely beautifully perfect lady. You slightly tremble, then… you get to business. Ravaging her, your drink, you take her in through every one of your senses. The buzz is like the feeling right before your big moment. Then, you keep going, so much so that you are drunk, and this is the most unbelievable earth shattering orgasm of your life. You cannot believe you went so long without alcohol, and this is truly what makes life worth living. Addiction, perhaps we should all give up on trying to be happy because happiness is the true addiction, the universal addiction. We only become addicted because we want that ultimate happiness we once felt.

"Well…" he continues as I turn around and lay on my back in order to face him. "I killed the bitch about two months ago. I couldn't believe what she was going to do. She was so pissed off, but I had no choice, at all. Nothing I could do would have solved our problems, except for this. So I killed her." I softly say, "So why did you do it, why did you kill her?" "Why the fuck do you want to know, are you going to try and turn me in?" he snaps back. "Sorry. I just get so suspicious sometimes. Look at me thinking a Pro would try to turn me in. Anyway, yea… I killed her because she was going to leave me. When she got pregnant, which was her fucking idea, she didn't want to have sex anymore. Too scared that it might hurt the baby; she wouldn't even offer a hand job. So I went to the red light district every weekend and got my rocks off. Well this bitch, as paranoid as she is, decides to have me followed by some asshole P.I. Of course he finds out what I'm doing and reports it back to my wife. She couldn't believe what she was hearing and confronts me about it. Except she decides to confront me right then, while I'm in the hotel room with the hooker and my cock is buried deep in that dry, fish smelling pussy. When I get back to the house she had already called her lawyer, drawn up the papers, and said she was leaving. That bitch would've taken me for all I was worth, through all the alimony payments and child support for our daughter. God, my daughter, I couldn't wait to have a little girl. Go to ballet recitals, and cheer practice or gymnastics with her. All gone now because her mom was a fucking cunt!"

Meth. My pleasurable vice is meth. However, I do not do it the way most would. You know packing it neatly in a pipe and smoking it. No, if I got meth mouth with all those rotting teeth, there would be no way I could pull in over $10,000 a week between five clients. So, I burn it, mix it with water neatly placed in a silver spoon, just like you would heroine, and then suck it up in a nice syringe. Slide the sliver of metal called a needle slowly into my skin in order to feel every bit of pain, because what would the amazing high feeling be like if you had no pain to compare it to, then I inject the meth-water mix right into my vein.

"Jesus! You're sweating bad!" I tell him excitedly but he doesn't seem to notice. He is profusely sweating, at what, I'm not sure. He definitely couldn't be sweating after the five minutes he spent fucking my ass. He has that wretched look on his face, the one you always see deer with caught in the headlights. The deer know what is coming, what is on the other side of those lights, death. Death is what is coming, first intense pain, but immediately followed by death. That is what this man has, a death glare. Not that his glare produces death, but that his stare says, "Death, he's coming for me!"

I think with all the meth I have been taking lately, my mind has sort of formed this complex or syndrome. Like ADD or ADHD, whatever people are calling it nowadays. My mind just seems to meander off into the void of thought processes never to return. Constantly changing topics, but never really resolving one before moving on to the next, which is no wonder why I started thinking of the end of the world and the book of revelations and of all those zombie apocalypse horror stories. Why would God or rather the Devil need to make an army of the undead in order to show all the minions he can gather out of his father's creations. All Lucifer would need to do is set all the murderers and rapists free, and they would do his bidding just like zombies.

Then this man's relentless stare into the corner enticed me so much, that I pivoted back around in order to lie on my chest and see the dead body he was staring at, except the dead female body wasn't sitting anymore. No, impossible, she was standing. Well, trying to remain standing. Like a marionette that has a clumsy puppeteer. I never once thought that I would be important enough to be at the forefront of any significant event, but here I am at the beginning of the end of the world. You know, if we had just stayed in the Garden of Eden and listened to God. None of this would be necessary; God would not need to set this End in motion like pressing a big reset button on the world. Which makes me wonder, how many times has God had to press reset, and how many times will he be willing to continue resetting things before he just says, "Fuck with this creation shit."

The partially lifeless corpse hobbles over to the man with one limp leg dragging behind her. The man stunned with those deer like eyes, death glare. She bends over, and with one clean bite takes a massive chunk of his face right off. I mean, nose, upper lip, and a little bit of cheek are missing from this guy's face. Of course he starts screaming with all the pain and terror he is in. Me, I'm just sitting there laughing at him like some sadistic fucker. Maybe it was the meth I shot up ten minutes ago before we started fucking, I'm not sure. Here I am about to get my face eaten just like this guy, and it strikes me just like a light bulb going off. I just witnessed the reanimation of a lifeless body, just like all those zombie movies, but there was no big event that led up to it. No perfectly sunny day that was ruined by some random thunder storm, with all its lightening, and it struck a cemetery which caused reanimation. No, all that happened was this bitch stood up, hobbled over, and bit the shit out of this guy's face. You know most people envision the end of the world or "zombie apocalypse" happening in a nice quiet town on a perfect day with nice people and those nice people's lives are now ruined as their town is riddled with a zombie infestation. No, this is not how it happens. God would not allow this to happen if everyone was nice and perfect like that middle of nowhere town. Of course God chose now, because right at this moment God looked down from his perch and saw the most hideous, vile scene he could have never imagined. He saw a man who worships money and possessions fucking a whore in the ass, all while both of these people stare into a lifeless decomposing body. Moreover, this guy could only cum while staring into the unanimated body of his wife, who he murdered two months ago. Oh and not to mention, this dead wife of his was probably four months pregnant with their daughter.

Then, all I hear is the "Snap!" of my cheek bones as the rotting corpse takes a chunk out of my face, and my body just plops down on the floor. Darkness…


End file.
