Joan’s body shivered violently with terror, her hands helplessly gripping the fingers that pinned her neck to the ground and threatened to cut off her airway. The blood-soaked figure sitting curiously on top of the immobilized hunter studied the front half of her helmet, which he had ripped off mere moments ago–seemingly oblivious to his struggling prey.
This distraction, however, was fleeting. After nearly a minute, the strange man tossed the mask as well as his apparent curiosity aside in favor of his prey, who could now only manage to stare back up with fully dilated blue eyes and a clenched jaw.
The stranger ignored Joan’s dumbstruck expression at first, silently studying her with two neutral gray eyes until some detail piqued his interest. His face steadily moved closer to hers as their eyes locked, gradually lowering as if expecting to uncover some concealed mystery. The terrified young hunter’s muscles tensed, but were unable to pull her eyes away from his rapidly approaching face–which soon engulfed her vision entirely.
As his breath brushed against Joan’s nose and cheeks, her mind was overwhelmed with terrifying thoughts and images of the fate that the next few seconds might bring. Images of blood spurting from arteries exposed in open wounds as his teeth tore through her flesh like a weirdly aggressive kid would through barbeque chicken or a plate of ribs. Of the neutral gray eyes that will undoubtedly be the last thing she sees before the all-consuming darkness swallows her consciousness.
With a burst of rage, terror and a pitiful squeak, Joan managed to summon enough control to press her eyelids shut in anticipation.
Something warm and soft pressed gently against her lips.
She froze, still anticipating pain, but seconds passed and still nothing changed. The young woman’s mind began to doubt the assumptions that seemed like guaranteed predictions mere moments ago and began to work out what was going on… and as soon as she started, there was only one obvious answer. Her eyes flicked open to once again lock with the stranger’s, confirming her suspicions.
She was being kissed by a zombie. More specifically, she was being kissed by a zombie that easily murdered three experienced hunters not five minutes ago. The action, in context, seemed more like the start of a poorly designed supernatural romance novel than something that could really happen, and yet it was.
While this creature was certainly terrifying, Joan couldn’t help but feel herself relax. In fact, exhaustion from the intense anxiety seemed to rapidly sweep over her entire body, flooding her senses with warm, comfortable feelings. This lasted only a moment before the nausea began to pull at her stomach and distort her thoughts as her vision faded. She attempted to resist, but ultimately lost consciousness.
***
[Static]
…the end of an era. This is a new world, which we are now free to build without annoying rules and regulations hell-bent on destroying the great monopolies that allow our country to thrive. With “big government” officially transitioning away from its marxist philosophies to those more befitting of God’s natural economic design, we will see innovations like never before! Without oppressive programs like social security, minimum wage and unions, Americans are told to expect a secure retirement, better wages as well as an ethical, safe work environment.
This message is brought to you by Capital Class: Education With a Purpose.
Joan awoke in a dark room, illuminated only by the jarring light of an old television program that was likely from the 2090s. The familiar reporting style of the talking heads displayed on the screen had become somewhat of a joke in her community, though she has heard of others who viewed these recordings as unbiased historical documentation and sought to restore the ideals of the Old World. They were generally seen as an extremist minority group, though, so their campaign hasn’t been very effective.
The hunter looked around, suddenly aware that she had no idea where the hell she was or if her now returning memories actually happened. It didn’t take long to confirm that she had never seen this place before, despite the generic room’s design. As expected, there was a couch (which Joan was currently laid on) facing the television that was backed against a wall, but apart from that, all the items in the house seemed to have been sorted into piles.
Tables and desks were pushed off to her left, but pretty efficiently organized… in a chaotic sort of way. Silverware, a toaster and other metallic objects sat next to them, and behind the couch was a small mountain of garbage–namely wrapping from many different packaged foods. Beyond that assorted pile of garbage was a thoroughly ransacked kitchen, with all cabinet doors ripped off their hinges and drawers pulled out and stacked. The cabinets themselves, however, were overflowing with unopened food that appeared to be somewhat organized. On the ground, next to the stack of drawers, was yet another pile of unsorted, unopened food.
…up next: eight ways to effectively silence your liberal neighbors without being caught…
The television continued in the background, adding to the overall unsettling mood of the room… but was nothing compared to the gentle thud of footsteps that came from behind a concealing just to the left of the kitchen. Before Joan had time to register the sound as a potential threat, the stranger from earlier swiftly entered the room carrying a microwave oven and wearing nothing but a frustrated expression.
Joan’s heart stopped for a moment as her fears were confirmed–her companions were, in fact, dead and the extremely dangerous creature who killed them now stood almost an arm’s reach away. A quick glance around confirmed that her weapon wasn’t nearby and might even be outside–but it really didn’t matter. Whether she was armed or not, there was no way someone on her level would be able to get the jump on this creature, much less confront it and survive.
…number three: gather as much information as possible and upload it to a forum where other patriots can keep an eye on them before informing your neighbor that you’ve done this…
The personality on the television decided to speak this particular suggestion with a bit extra volume, catching the attention of the stranger and pulling his eyes over to once again lock with Joan’s. He paused for a second, then turned and walked over to the pile of silver objects. Once there, he carefully bent over and placed the microwave on the floor, neatly sliding it up against the toaster.
He took his time making adjustments in an attempt to keep everything organized, then returned his attention to Joan. The young woman stared back with a mixture of intrigue and terror, now rational enough to notice the general lack of hostility he displayed but still very uncertain as to what might happen next.
The stranger approached, closing the distance between them in three quick steps, before grabbing both of Joan’s arms and leaning in for another kiss.
…and five is basically the same general idea as four, but using a lawnmower instead of your car…
In response to this advance, the intrigue was quickly overwhelmed with dysphoria and discomfort, leading the young hunter to retract and shake her head instinctively. However, the stranger’s ridiculous inhuman strength made any attempts to escape entirely pointless, so all she could do was whisper “Please… don’t.” and wait.
The zombie-man paused, lips still pursed in preparation for a smooch, and stared curiously. Joan’s expression reflected that curiosity as the repulsion faded, subconsciously stating the only thing her mind could focus on in that moment, “Why?”
…and finally, number eight. This is probably the simplest one, since all you have to do is move to a state with like-minded, patriotic leaders who might turn a blind eye to vigilante justice. Be armed, be dangerous and be moral. Remember that they deserve it, so don’t hold back.
The stranger un-puckered his lips and released her arms, causing her to fall slightly and lean against the back of the couch. Stunned by the sudden change in activity and setting, Joan found herself watching intently as he fumbled through stacks of CDs (which were popularized again in the 2050s after theft of movies and television shows on the internet became untenable. The technological regression shocked the entire world, especially since NFTs technology was readily available as a more efficient and effective means of solving their problems) until he settled on one in particular.
Joan caught just a glimpse of the disk’s case, so she wasn’t able to discern much from it, but as soon as the mechanical platform pulled the disk in, it became very obvious what kind of movie this was.
Ugh… my romantic life is, like, totally bonkers.
[camera pans across very pink, very fuzzy, very messy bedroom to girl sitting in front of a mirror putting on makeup]
And, like, this is the story of my thirteenth, and hopefully last, boyfriend.
[background music pauses for effect]
He’s, like, the devil or something.
After watching the introduction, the stranger stood, walked over to the couch and plopped down next to Joan. Then, with a completely serious expression, leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands, which were propped up on his legs and watched the movie in silent anticipation.
Joan watched, confused, as an awkward, nonsensical plot unfolded on the television next to a completely focused zombie.
An hour passed, and the movie was nearing its anticlimactic peak when the Devil (who has a deep french accent for no reason) turned to the main heroine, grabbing her arms as he did. With a quick jerk, he pulled her up against his chest and stared down lovingly. It was at this moment the zombie sitting next to Joan perked up, tapped her shoulder excitedly and pointed to the television.
Your eyes… such big, beautiful blue eyes–it is almost as if they are begging me to kiss you. (Devil)
Woah, dude, that’s like… really beautiful. (Heroine)
Yet it contains no more than half of the beauty my eyes see when your beautiful light reflects your beauty in your beautiful blue eyes. (Devil)
Huh? (Heroine)
…and then the devil presses his lips into her befuddled gaping maw, prompting a lengthy, mouthy kissing scene that would’ve realistically had a lot more drool.
“Th-this is why you… because I have blue eyes?” Joan aimlessly inquired, which was met with an enthusiastic nod from the stranger, who seemed to be excited that his point was successfully communicated. The hunter, however, fell even further into shock, “Y-y-you can understand me!?”’
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Once again, he nodded.
“How!?” came the next in her series of questions, but this one made him pause for a moment to consider his answer. A couple seconds passed before he stood and walked over to the stack of CDs and attempted to pick up about fifty at once. Unfortunately, it collapsed, but he was able to hang on to about ten of them, which he extended towards Joan as an answer to her question.
“You learned English from watching these?” she asked, accepting and flipping through the collection of raunchy movies that the strangely intelligent zombie man was holding. He confirmed her interpretation with a satisfied nod and once again sat down on the couch, clearly very proud of himself.
Overwhelmed by all this new discovery could imply as well as the adorable level of sincerity this zombie exudes, Joan found it difficult to continue fearing for her life… until she came across one movie displaying a scantily clad actress who greatly resembles Ms. Hail. She placed the stack of CDs neatly on the couch, then slid further away from the stranger.
Mental images of Clyde’s head exploding and the life draining from Whitman’s eyes reopened and burned through Joan’s optimism. The zombie gingerly collected the stack she had left and carried it back over to the larger pile, oblivious to the burning rage that melted away all remaining traces of the hunter’s fear.
“If you’re intelligent, why did you kill my friends?” Joan’s pointed question, laced with hatred, was unfortunately lost on the zombie, who pondered it just like he would any other. The young hunter glared at him with steeled resolve, even as he approached and gently (but firmly) grabbed her forearm and pulled her clenched fist up to his face. With it, he imitated a punch, then raised his free hand and pretended to punch her face in return.
“You… killed them because they attacked you first?” Joan inquired, slightly conflicted but still maintaining her previous frustration. The zombie nodded.
“You can’t just do that!” she snapped, her trauma and vexation overwhelming her sense of caution, “Th-they were just protecting me and you killed them! You could’ve just walked away, but you didn’t and now they’re all dead!”
Joan curled into the fetal position and buried her head between her legs, “It should’ve been me… they would all be okay if I’d have just… just done what I was supposed to and attacked you!”
The zombie hesitated, uncertain of what exactly was going on, then slowly reached out and experimentally poked the side of Joan’s knee with his index finger. The hunter pulled away, raising her twisted, tear-stained face from its resting position and directing her hatred, fear and guilt at him, “They were all I have left in the world and you took them from me!”
He paused, then cocked his head to the side and stared expectantly. His demeanor and expression revealed no traces of sympathy or regret, only intrigue–which only fueled Joan’s anger and increased her volume.
“Do you even understand what I’m saying!?” she inquired, to which the zombie began with an initial nod, which slowed and gradually transformed into a denying shake.
Now trembling, drained from the intense emotional outburst and feeling trapped in a thoroughly helpless situation, Joan had an idea. A terrible, awful idea, and one that would likely get her killed. That said, even if she somehow managed to escape, how would she get home? Living out in the ruins of a dead world alone–even fully supplied–would essentially be a death sentence to anyone other than the most elite hunters.
With nowhere to go and nothing but her life left to lose, Joan…still couldn’t dismiss the mortal terror of living at the whim of the powerful and unpredictable creature sitting on the couch across from her. Fortunately, anger is a potent drug, which allowed the young hunter to push through her fear and slam her feet to the ground (which was fairly sturdy, so it emitted little more than an unimpressive “thump”).
Standing, then walking over to the pile of meticulously stacked disks next to the television, Joan bent over to pick one up. Noticing the action-themed cover and familiar title, this movie in particular would be instantly recognized by anyone familiar with late 1900s/early 2000s corny action films. This is perfect.
She turned and held up the encased disk, “Do you want to?” she asked, the question itself carrying a significant amount of weight despite her unsteady voice and slumped posture. The zombie nodded, then waited expectantly as Joan pulled the case apart, removed the disk, placed its casing on the floor next to it, gripped the disk in both hands and–
[pop]
Broke the disk in half.
The zombie’s eyes grew wide, expressing some emotion other than curiosity for the first time since Joan’s arrival, and moving forward to catch the falling pieces of his beloved CDs.
“NO!” Joan shouted, drawing from even deeper reserves of energy thanks to the reintroduction of fear into her mind. The stranger froze and looked up in response, displaying a mix of confusion and anger towards the individual who vandalized one of his most precious possessions.
“You said you wanted to know…” Joan explained in a (once again) unsteady voice, “...so I’m going to show you.”
The hunter felt immense relief when the intensity of the stranger’s eyes faded, and he slowly returned to his previous seat. It took nearly all the young woman had to simply remain standing, but it’s not like stopping at this point was an option. She bent down and picked up the next disk case, this time discovering a small latch on the side that easily allowed it to open. With an audible click, the second disk was exposed–the romance played by the zombie not long ago to explain his behavior.
Joan held it up, showing the zombie which disk it was, then broke it in half and dropped it on the ground before repeating this cycle yet again.
[click]
[pop]
[click]
[pop]
[click]
[pop]
***
Nearly halfway through, and the loss was clearly taking its toll. The stranger silently, patiently mourned the growing pile of mutilated polycarbonate and acryllic plastics, frozen in his grief. For a moment, Joan pitied him and hesitated, causing him to shift his gaze towards her, his eyes filling with hope. Then, once again, she recalled the massacre he committed and hardened her heart.
[click]
[pop]
All hope disappeared, and his mourning resumed.
***
Joan was nearly at the end, each fluid movement and resounding [pop] blending into a predictable rhythm–almost as if becoming an unofficial countdown.
The stranger sat on the couch, his arms wrapped tight around his waist as he leaned forward. Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled across a face that had been warped with intense feelings of loss and frustration–feelings that were clearly alien to its owner.
[click]
[pop]
Two dilated, glassy eyes followed the two halves of the newly ruined disk to the floor where it clattered against the others, further deepening the tragedy of the scene.
[click]
[pop]
Finally down to the last one.
[click]
[pop]
Joan didn’t slow or draw out this final event, as she feared pushing the strange man any further might cause him to snap and kick her through the wall. However, despite being clearly affected by this, all he did was sit and stare in absolute silence at the graveyard surrounding her feet. His fingers appeared to be digging into his skin, going so far as to draw blood… though the injury healed almost instantly.
“Now…” Joan said, swaying slightly as she struggled to remain on her feet, “Now that I have your attention… I’m going to tell you again.”
The stranger locked eyes with the hunter, unreservedly displaying his pitiful expression as she placed one hand on a wall to stabilize herself, “You took everything I had left.” she continued, “The only people in the world who cared if I live or die and my chance at getting home. All of this is now gone becuase you didn’t just walk away; because you came back and took it from me while I was forced to watch helplessly.”
The stranger took a moment to process Joan’s words, his eyes moving between her visibly exhausted, but clearly determined, face and the pile at her feet. He blinked, then looked down at his own body, still completely exposed save for the traces of blood that covered various patches of skin-suddenly becoming disgusted at the sight of it.
Joan silently watched him scrape off the remaining blood and let it fall to the floor just in front of the couch.
“No… it’s not the same…” she muttered to herself, attracting the attention of the zombie, “it’s just different when you lose people. You can’t understand until you’ve actually found someone who gives two shits about you, then lose them over some pointless, stupid...”
Joan stumbled over to the couch and collapsed, breathing heavily as her mucles finally began to relax. “Just… don’t be the bad guy.” she said quietly, looking over at the half-distracted stranger gathering scabs of blood from the floor (hopefully for disposal), “Make things… better.” Her words became a bit slurred as she gradually sank into a mild delerium, clearly exhausting what little energy reserves she had.
While drifting along the edge of consciousness, with eyes already closed and mind fully embracing the much-needed rest, Joan turned slightly to face the stranger.
“Thank you, though.” she smiled weakly, “For trying, I mean.”
***
Somewhere else…
[Hey… guys, let me in.]
The distant audio buzzed through the low-quality camera microphones, catching the attention of an overweight security guard that had been largely ignoring said cameras in favor of his laptop. The guard wheeled his chair across the room to get a closer look at the individual, but had built a little too much momentum, which carried him into the table with enough force to knock the monitor onto its face. Brushing off the crumbs and glancing around to make sure nobody else saw this, he then lifted up the monitor and froze.
[I need… I need help.]
A familiar face attached to a mangled body had drug itself to the front entrance, and now begged for help through what sounded like a damaged larynx.
[I left my arm a few miles back, and a few other things I didn’t recognize…]
The petrification was only momentary, so the guard did eventually come to grips with the situation and scramble over to slam a grubby palm on the big red button displaying the words “Close the Gate”. After a few hushed curses, the grubby palm slid over to a similar button just left of the one he pressed displaying “Open the Gate”.
[Thank you. Just popping in for some spare parts.]
Ignoring the drowsy wit of the injured woman, the obese guard then rolled over to the phone resting on a nearby table. After a few quick taps and a couple seconds of anxious waiting as it connected, the guard shouted “Get a medical team to the front entrance! A hunter returned and is critically injured!”
[Jesus, Terry, every fucking time.]
The annoyed response came from the phone, clearly familiar with the guard.
[This stuff happens, and you can’t keep getting so worked up when it does.]
“Just get to her quickly!”
[Dude… stop yelling, I’ve had a killer headache all morning… Do you know who it is, at least?]
“E-Elizabeth! It’s Elizabeth!” Terry (the guard) shouted between panicked breaths.
[Yeah… gonna need a little more than just her first name, man. There’s, like, forty-eight Elizabeths in the database. Wait… no, nevermind, one just kicked it over in the village area. There’s forty-seven.]
“I-I-I don’t know her last name! Division 14–uh… the one with the–um… with all the harrassment complaints!”
[Oh… yeah… right right. Just a sec.]
…
[Okay, yeah, Elizabeth Hail; tall, red hair, pink eyes, nice ass according to her doctor’s medical files… yeah… that old guy must’ve been the one to do her physical because most of this information is kinda useless from a medical standpoint. We should really have a talk with him…]