Year 10 A.P. – Spring

The birds were chirping.

The flowers were blooming.

The animals were all happy and trotting together in the now very large free of zombies area in the very middle of the city that I created.

And yet here I lay for the past two weeks, in my bed, in the dark, looking up at the never changing ceiling. My lack of mood only got worse when I stopped moving at all; I didn’t need food, didn’t need to go to the bathroom, hell, I didn’t even need to breathe, the perfect setting to lay down and not stand up for nothing at all, resembling the dead body I was more than ever.

It was pointless after all.

The world wouldn’t miss me if I was gone, right here right now, a simple dust been brush away, meaningless.

Ten years, ten fucking years in this place, alone, always trying new things to get going so I wouldn’t stop, to chase away the boredom, and yet here I am looking at the ceiling and pretending to be a corpse, not even putting effort into blinking, just staring at the empty space, as if simply waiting would change anything at all.

Not that standing up would.

Everything that came to mind I did, all those years, and now, with lack of ideas I simply… stopped.

In this dead world, one would think to be fitting that an undead like me still roomed around, but as far as the rest of my body was dead my brain still worked, my soul even; if one believe that vampires still have those; still hold onto a spark of life, a wish to exist, and yet to live this… this empty life, what was the point?

After all, what if I the last humanoid with a functioning brain around?

Surely not…

Yet ten years… They would have noticed the walls around the city by now would they not? Or they wouldn’t even try to come to the big city because of the number of zombies?

Don’t get me wrong, however. I don’t want or need their presence…

But it was pointless to laugh at a funny movie if you could not share the experience, it was pointless to find the perfect recipe for a beverage if only you would drink.

God, I need a dog. Or a bunch of cats.

Wait, there are still those around?

Now that was a depressing thought.

Maybe a wolf would do, I could tame him, if not I could try to remake dogs with the next generations, that would be a fun experience.

The exact moment I have those thoughts I hear a whimpering, a crack, then paws running and scattering around.

Those.

Shitty-ass.

Hunters.

My eyes suddenly turn totally bloody-red, my muscles tense and my nails grow into longs black claws.

I had enough of them, hunting in my territory, hunting MY animals! I grab my sword, moving as fast as to not even leave an afterimage, so much anger boiling inside my veins that I felt I could smash buildings with my bare fists.

Maybe I could.

I hiss as the smell of wolf blood reaches my nostrils, showing off my pair of long incisors. As a blur I pass through the very well-known place, dodging trees without even looking at them, watching far in search of those Hunters.

Once I reach them I do not use my sword, no, they didn’t deserve a clean cut, I wanted blood to be spilled, I wanted to shred them to pieces, so that’s what I did; they didn’t even have time to carry the wolf’s body with them as I appear behind the biggest one and, with a firm grip of his head and body, separate him into two big lumps of meat, letting the pieces fall and wobble on the floor until I smash his head with my foot.

The others only have time to glance at me briefly as I blur behind them and crack their necks or squash their heads until their brains spilled out.

But that was hardly enough, no, not this time, their disrespect built up my anger for many years and now I was livid! I let one get away so I could follow him into their nest, hissing at him so he would move faster.

The Hunters were far stronger and troublesome than the rest; they did not rot and fall apart, they hunted in packs and walked in all four with their back legs bend outwards as well as all canine teeth in their mouth.

I follow him into the night, jumping up roofs and walls to avoid all that trouble, my vision as clear as a human would never have, seeing all the sluggish movement bellow as if the floor was filled with ants moving about.

With my upper lip raised and my eyes shining red in the complete black night, my figure looked like a reaper coming down to give its punishment.

He slowed down not too far from my base, looking behind him and escalating a brick wall, only to enter inside a tall building by a broken window. I felt my gums throbbing, especially close to my two incisors, eager for the fight, for the mere annihilation of those filthy creatures who bothered me for far too long.

I enter with fluid movements and cat steps, straightening my posture and walking as if I owned the place. I pass my tongue on my dry lips, my jaws rasping and my eyes glowing.

It wasn’t difficult to find the rest of the creatures. There were all inside one big room, nestling close to each other like puppies, except for three on the back, their eyes already locked on me.

Seems I’ll have some fun after all.

I don’t know what’s the difference; really, as far as I know there could be many more different types of zombies, but I knew that there were always those kinds that looked like evolved versions of one of the type, and this three were definitively in that category.

They had like orcish yellow tusks coming out of their lower lips and were all bulky and tall, their veins underneath the pale skin filled with a green color. Their yellow broken nails were long and sharp, all in all a mixture of a big man with a boar.

I take my sword off this time all well as my big chain with a ball full of spikes at the end and start spinning it in the air.

All of that in the blink of an eye.

I throw the heavy ball on top of the laying ones, squashing half of the room habitants in one movement, but didn’t waste time as I pulled it back to my hand and send to the other part of the room.

Some were on the roof and tried to land on me, but were quickly dealt with with a boring single slice, head rolling down like rotten apples from a dead tree.

Left the best for last.

I sheath my sword, and with deliberate slow steps I curve the chain in my hands until is back to its O shape and safely pocket it.

Time to get dirty.

I hiss at them, my eyes red shining in the dark void, and open my mouth humanly impossible and extended my incisors fully out.

It still amuses me how undead corpses like those zombies could still feel and understand fear. Gladly though, as a simple dead body was no fun to hunt down.

One of them tries to jump at me with his bear size, but I stop his motion midair by grabbing his head and squishing his temples until his big face was the size of a pin, his eyes bugging out and his mouth opening even more in a strange exchange of masses.

I throw him out of the way, going for the next and ripping his hearth off, taking it off like a scalpel, and discarding like a piece of garbage. The last one tried to run, scattering in all four like a scared dog, but I step on the back of his knew, crushing the bone.

Not a fair fight between undead gentleman now isn’t it?

Like- stomp- I would – stomp –care- stomp- about –stomp- fairness!

Once I’m done all the bone from his leg are smashed into pieces, yet still he tries to drag the rest of his body away.

Now annoyed I simply crush his head underneath my social leather shoes, and scoop my hair back and clean the dust from my shoulders.

Yeah, that was a little fun, should have more furious fits of anger from now on.

That’s when I hear it, a shot from a gun cutting in the silent night followed by a mass of growls from the zombies out on the street.

At that a genuine smile curved up my lips.

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