After the events of the past week, DeadHead was feeling Good. He knew inside after all that had happened, he should be feeling a lot worse! After all, eating your landlord definitely has the hallmark makings of a fun traumatic experience that would get therapists salivating like a Texan in a Walmart blackfriday gun sale. Maybe it was some sick self-preservation thing his brain was doing to keep his shit together but it just felt invigorating to him. It also helped to be able to blame the whole gory incident on not being in control too, he hoped.

Looking down at his gory mess of torn jeans, he could see the bite mark that started it all. It was now covered in a layer of calloused over skin and the color was noticeably different from the rest of the leg. The wound was darker and had a rougher more scabby appearance. In the glorious morning light, he could see the full extent of what had happened to his body.

His leg and hands were a pale grey now, looking to the similarly healed overwound on his chest he had no choice but to accept the reality of it all. He really was dead...

He laughed at it all but the clincher should have been obvious "I'm not even breathing anymore" he screamed out like a madman.

"Definitely insane" he grinned to himself,!

Clive.... No shit, I thought the eating your landlord part would have cemented that into your thick skull!

"And I thought me telling your dad to go fuck himself would have cemented the idea that I'm done dealing with your guys crap into that none existent skull of yours? But here we are both full of surprises" he replied to the snarky bastard hitching a ride in his body. Speaking of which, add that to the growing list of shit he needed to figure out he noted to his non-existent notepad.

Clive.... ouch, the no-body dig kinda hurts but ill take it, touche. Just wait though, I've got ideas about that.

Clive was back to his usual sarcastic remarks, funny how quickly the mind can accept insanity-inducing scenarios in-order to function. At least RotBaby was still silent, he had gone quiet since he fed on Carl. His body was under his full control for the time being at least, maybe keeping the curse fed will allow him to keep it sleeping he wondered.

Looking at the clear blue sky he really took it all in for once in his life or unlife now. After the past few days of wondering if the sun would ever shine again, he was able to finally appreciate how convenient the ever glowing ball of fire was. It was handy having a constant source of light illuminating everything it touched. Even if his eyes had adjusted to the darkness the light gave better visibility and he could see colors again now.

Feeling like nothing could stop him he began walking down the steps away from the red brick house he had lived in for most of his adult life. He made it a whole 10 yards before realization hit him, he wasn't prepared to leave at all. Yeah sure the idea of walking away and starting a new life as a revenge-driven antihero was a cool thought but the reality is that type of shit was hard.

Every book he had ever read about heroes on quests had the lead character go through quests to grow and evolve as a person. Normally this involved solving problems or fighting for their life against enemies. To top it off this was life, not some book, was he supposed to go off into the unknown fists blazing in a pair of blood and piss-stained jeans and t-shirt? The reality of it started dampening his hopeful mood to the point of now standing looking at the open door like a drooling moron wondering if there was anything useful he could take. With a deep sigh he reluctantly started heading back inside, he needed supplies!

Walking out there not knowing how many are infected with nothing but a bad smell to repel the unknown is just asking for trouble he grimaced to himself.

He added weapons as the first item on his mental list of items he needed. Walking back to the door he could see Carl's remains heaped on the floor in a bloody mess, it felt wrong to just leave him like this. "Today was already starting to go downhill fast" he mused while passing the boundary back into the mess of a situation he hoped was over.

"Hey Clive, do you know anything that would make protecting ourselves easier? I don't want to meet more cursed people unprepared!". Walking in towards the kitchen he nudged Carl's remains in the direction of the wall with his foot making a squelching sound as they slid away.

"Sorry Carl," he said to the unresponsive mess as he continued on toward the far door.

Clive.... Zombies!

"What?" His mind had gone into contemplation about whether eating your landlord was grounds for eviction forgetting what he had asked Clive already.

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Clive.... Don't say cursed, call them Zombies instead. It sounds way cooler than cursed people.

The last part came out in a whiny mocking tone. Sighing at Clive's bullshit " I'm not calling them that, they were people before this curse made them like that... like Carl was at the end!".

Clive.... Well cursed sounds stupid, what about ghouls?

"Stop! We'll discuss names later, how can we kill them? We need supplies and I want to know anything I can use to help keep us still moving!". As normal the conversation was going off the rails and needed pulling back in. The response came in a sighing whiny tone that made him want to punch that incorporeal arsehole so bad.

Clive.... Fine, I'm no expert in this type of stuff, but I do like zombie movies! Destroying the brain should work. Ahhh man, a good skull smashing or maybe we can try chopping their heads off, wait-wait maybe we can experiment by catching one! See if we can cut open the skull and slowly destroy the brain until we know how much you need to remove before they die for real... Wow, I'm getting kinda aroused by the thought of it.

"Fucking hell Clive, that's sick in the head! I'm not catching people and experimenting on them like some messed-up mad scientist. This isn't some resident evil game where I'm in the underground lab doing procedures on Zombies!"

Clive.... "hahaha", I win!

"Win what? have you lost it too?" He asked knowing it was going sideways again.

Clive.... You called them Zombies! I win idiot, we can discuss the experimentation bit later but I'm taking this victory.

Slapping his hand to his head he sighed heavily. This was going nowhere fast, but at least he now had an idea of the type of weapon he should be looking for. Carl's dad made most of the furniture in the house so there should be some tools somewhere. He began searching the kitchen while trying his hardest to ignore Clives ranting about names for the zombies. He groaned aloud at this thought, if you can't beat them out your body join them. "Ok Clive, we'll call them Zombies" maybe this will buy him some goodwill or at least a few moments of silence.

The kitchen looked like it had been through a worse time than he had after looking around at it all. The fridge and cooker were dented and battered in the center of the large rustic kitchen, the contents of the cupboards and fridge were all over the room like they were carelessly tossed around. He bent down picking up a torn open packet of Oreos that were close to him, waste not want not he laughed while taking a bite of one...

The moment it hit his tongue he started retching and heaving, it tasted like rotten egg crossed with mold. He spat it all over as he rushed to get this awful thing out of his mouth. He grabbed a bottle of coke that he saw inside the busted open fridge door to wash out the taste that was making him want to puke his guts out. Opening the bottle he took a huge mouthful and... Puked, he vomited a gross concoction of red meaty-looking gunk with brown streaks from the coke.

Even the drink tasted awful, not like the oreo, no this was more like a strong chemically bitter taste. "What the fuck" he shouted out aloud, why did it taste so bad, had Carl messed with the food?

Clive.... "Ha Ha Ha", wow you just went full exorcist.

"It tastes bad, like really badddd" the last part was interrupted by more heaving on the sight of what had come out of him.

Clive.... Hmmm, I've got an idea why but you might not like it buddy.

The added buddy on the end of that gave him a chill like that of when an adult adds buddy to the phrase I've got some bad news to a child before ruining their life by telling them the new game they wanted was sold out.

Clive.... If this curse is all just a lame movie ripoff like I suspect, then they probably ripped off the rules too. Zombies don't eat processed foods idiot, they prefer a more meaty scream-filled diet. Unoriginal I know, but meh whoever said supreme beings were original.

He felt a mental shrug at the last part, "so I cant eat normal foods anymore?" This came out more like a pleading prayer than a question.

Clive.... Nope!, you might be able to sustain yourself on uncooked meat though. You aren't fully a zombie would be my guess, otherwise RotBaby wouldn't have wanted to feast on your landlord. Zombies don't eat each other in movies I've ever seen, maybe whatever dad did to you has fucked all that up.

Thinking about these revelations, Carl really hadn't tasted all that bad!... nope there was still more as that thought hit him, the puke began flowing once more hitting his shoes. One Zombie apocalypse and two pairs of trainers ruined by vomit. His unlife was already starting to go downhill.

He felt vibrating in his pocket, breaking his attention away from the puke-covered floor and the realization his normal everyday bad diet was screwed!

Reaching for his pocket DeadHead was shocked to see his phone was still working!

How it had survived his ordeal surprised him, he quickly scrambled to unlock the screen to see who would be messaging him.

Shock and confusion turned to contempt fast once he realized it wasn't actually person at all but instead a notification about a new software update.

How was this a concern for phone companies now in the current situation, hadn't the developers left their coding caves and seen the things happening? Sighing at his dashed hopes he tapped the remind me later button and...

The screen just refreshed giving him the same option again! Tapping the screen with more force this time he got the same result. After five more attempts with increasing frustration, he tapped the description box. This was pointless he quickly realized as it was full of weird letters and numbers like some type of matrix impersonation but nothing of what it actually did or improved.

Even the name seemed fishy "Android 6.66: phylactery edition!".

He had heard the word "Phylactery" before but he couldn't recall where or what it meant? Resigning himself, he clicked the accept button.

The screen started flashing black and red with a white status bar slowly filling. After ten minutes of waiting with little progress on the bar, he realized this would probably take a while. Leaving the phone on the counter he went back to searching the kitchen while bitching to Clive about never being able to eat things wotsits or drink chocolate milkshake anymore...