Life and Love in the Time of the Zombie Apocalypse
Copyright (c) 2020 James Miehoff, All Rights Reserved.
This work may not be published whether for fee or free without this copyright.
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The following is a work of fiction and as such all characters mentioned herein are fictional and any resemblance to any persons living, dead or fictional is coincidental. All characters mentioned herein that participate in sexual activities are adults (18 years of age or older).
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The Zombie Apocalypse was a joke. I know you've all seen the stereotypical graveyard scene. You know the one, zombies sprouting out of the ground like flowers, shambling about screaming, "Brains".
Well that didn't happen. There is no magic involved, just physics and biology.
First off, most modern coffins are hermetically sealed. That would keep the stiff in. Next, they are typically buried in a ceramic or concrete vault with a one ton lid that is buried six feet deep. No undead corpses breaking through that lid. No digging through a couple tons of packed earth. And finally, most corpses are autopsied and embalmed. Having your insides pulled out generally puts a stop to reanimation. Plus formaldehyde will generally kill the virus cold in its tracks. So biology and physics ensures no hordes of the walking undead roaming the earth.
According to what I understand, the z-virus probably came from that comet tail the Earth went through in the early 1990's. It became pretty much ubiquitous and everybody got it like chicken pox or the flu and it was no big deal. It was mostly harmless by itself. Fast forward to the pandemic of 2020. The coronavirus that swept the globe three times was the trigger. Covid-19c, the third major mutation, is the culprit. The z-virus apparently interacts with the Covid-19c antibodies at the time of your death. They can repair some trauma and then reanimate the tissue. Poof! A zombie is born.
If the damage is too severe, like a broken neck or decapitation, the body will flop for a while and then it finally runs out of energy and dies. If the damage can be repaired, it will lay there for a while and then suddenly get up and shamble around trying to kill people.
Contrary to Hollyweird, they don't eat brains. Nor do they eat the ones they kill. They can't eat anything. They are just trying to make more before they run out of whatever stored energy the body had at the time it died.
My first encounter with zombies was the summer I turned 19. My girlfriend, Sandy and I packed a picnic lunch and some fishing gear and headed out to our favorite make out spot down by the river.
I parked in the shade of a huge old oak and we crawled into the back seat of my pickup truck. I slipped her shirt up and sucked on her nipples until she pulled my head up and said, "Eat me."
"Yes ma'am!" I replied and helped her pull her shorts off.
After her second huge orgasm, Sandy pulled my head up, looked me in the eyes and asked, "Do you have any condoms? I don't think I want to be a virgin anymore. "
"Uh-huh," was all I could think of to say. I didn't want to be a virgin anymore either.
Reaching into the pocket on the back of the driver's seat, I pulled out the box of Goobers and pulled out a condom.
Don't laugh, that's a great place to stash things. Nobody eats Goobers willingly.
As I tore the packet open with my teeth, I ogled Sandy. She was 5 foot 4 inches of goddamn sexy. She was the epitome of the Midwestern high school cheerleader. Blonde, big tits, tiny waist and curvy hips, I damn near came in my hand while rolling the condom on.
They say timing is everything. So of course that is when the first zombie slapped the side of the truck. Looking up, I nearly shit myself as this bloated pasty white face slapped itself against the window.
The second thud came from right behind me. By now my hardon was as gone as fast as it was when I went to Chicago and did the Polar Plunge with some football buddies.
The third zombie announced his presence by banging on the hood of the truck.
"Get dressed," I yelled at Sandy as I pulled up my pants. She stopped screaming and nodded.
I pulled my cell phone out and dialed 911. After screaming at the dispatcher, I got the message across and was told to hold on as the Zombie Response Team was on its way.
After a couple of minutes it was apparent that they weren't going to be able to break in and I put my shorts and boxers back on. Just in time.
The big black Zombie Response Team jeep pulled up and Sheriff Ben jumped out with a capture pole and a big grin. He wrangled the first zombie down and hogtied it before the other two noticed. As the other two came around the pickup truck, his deputy parked the jeep and used a net on the second zombie while Ben used a baton to knock the feet out from under the third and in a few seconds the men had the third one strung up like a calf roped at the rodeo.
After doing a quick scout around, the deputy declared, "All clear."
Sheriff Ben had dragged the three zombies over by the jeep. He motioned for us to get out of the truck.
"So what were you two doing the hell down by the river?" Sheriff Ben began. "As if I didn't have a pretty good idea already."
I stammered out the prepared excuse about a picnic and fishing and pointed to the cooler and the fishing gear in the bed of the truck.
"I'd be a lot more inclined to believe you," he said with a chuckle, "Except for the condom wrapper and condom on the floor of your backseat." He paused for a second, and then continued with a big grin, "Not to mention that your girl has her shorts on backwards."