Copyright © 2023 by Mick Collins

All rights reserved.

The characters and the actions in this book are completely fictional.
Names, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imag-
ination. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead or resem-
blance to any previous event is entirely coincidental. This book does
not reflect on the actions or opinions of the author.

godless.com
 I

A red haze permeated the dark night. Over the city, clouds hung low
like an old man’s testicles. The playlist for the night: screams and
shouts of alarms, punctuated by moans and grunts.
This night would forever be known as The Night of the Hungry
Dead. History would look back at how it wanted, but never under-
stand the genuine horror it entailed. The apocalypse that followed
would not go unjudged.
Ginny Elaine Wotherspoon watched it with an impassive stare.
Her dark green eyes taking it all in.
A small child skittered into view, his own eyes wide and fright-
ened. He watched for moving shadows and listened for the sounds
of the dead. Up ahead, a shape shuffled into view. The person, for-
mally alive, lumbered towards the child.
The living corpse was a slight and skinny man, flannel shirt in
tatters, manbun shamefully loose, and patchy beard spotted with bits
of other people. The child, a boy who should be too young to see
such horrors, froze.
As the gray-green zombie neared him, seeing only a next meal,
the child broke out of his stupor, pulled out a 9mm from his waist-
band and put a bullet in the rotten body. It dropped to the ground and
the young man admired his kill.
“Motherfucker,” he murmured. As he ran, Ginny continued
watching, still showing no emotion to the scene playing out before
her. The kid continued on, stumbling upon a teenage girl, her face
buried in the head of a boy the same age as him. The scuffle of the
boy’s feet alerted her and her pale eyes locked onto him. Fresh red
blood smeared over a patina of dried black blood from past meals.
Lumpy bits of brain jiggled at the corner of her mouth as she snarled
at him. Even her blond hair was stained by the blood and bile she…
it…has consumed since the horrible transformation. Judging by the
brown-black and earthy mud caked on her chin and neck, this one
was an ass-eater.
Few people realized during the Night of the Hungry Dead the
zombies had specific tastes. Millennial and Gen Z zombies seemed
to prefer a more rectal meal as opposed to older undead that….*
“Overdramatic piffle. Enough TV for now.” Ginny said with her
perky little smile as the television screen turned black. She placed
the remote down on the table in front of her, noting the robin’s egg
blue of her fingernails polish needed a fresh coat. She stood and
adjusted the pink cardigan she wore. It was almost lunchtime and
she had been lazy all morning. Fixing her hairband and bangs, she
stretched and headed toward the small kitchen of her small house.
She remembered The Night of the Hungry Dead well enough, as
well as the terrifying weeks that followed. Her little town of West
Thessalonia Township became hip-deep in dead folks. But as far as
apocolypses go, it was pretty weak. When the zombies rose from
their graves and slid off the mortuary tables, all hell broke loose.
People who never expected loved ones to have them for a midnight
snack were chomped left and right. In the first twenty-four hours,
the epidemic spread exponentially. By the end of the week, society
was trying its damnedest to collapse. Everybody who used the last
twenty years’ worth of zombie entertainment as a survival mastur-
bation fantasy did the most damage. Some of these groups, unhappy
with how quick progress was being made to restore order, would
‘volunteer’ members to get bit, so they had more zombies to refuel
the collapse.
The militias were the worst. They rolled in before the Army and
National Guard units could mobilize, their semi-automatics rigged
to fully automatic, and pants tented with rock-hard erections. They
mowed down the zombies, and slow moving pedestrians, and were
hailed as heroes for it. The praise lasted for about a day and a half
before getting into fire fights with the military. These fascist wan-
nabes with raging hero-complexes tried to assert control over every-
thing. Skirmishes with the Army caused most of the carnage. The
zombies just wanted to eat people; not loot, burn down buildings,
and subvert local paradigms.
As luck would have it, before the dead rose and the militias grew
bold, Ginny had moved back in with her parents due to a recent
loss of her job. She and her family fared well through the worst of
it. But as things wound down and people’s defenses weakened, an-
other surge came up. It was called The Mid-Afternoon of the Lazy
Suburbs. The undead now converged on the comfortable well to-do.
At her parent’s home, the same small darling little cottage she
now lived, they had just set down for a nice afternoon tea (Ginny in-
sisted on this tradition) when the door came crashing in. Mr. Tierney
and Mr. Ennenbach, the delightful couple from next door, stumbled
through the living room, the fresh gobs of the newly consumed Ms.
Meyerson dripping from their chins.
Mr. and Mrs. Wotherspoon didn’t last long. The parents became
future zombie shit in short order, with Mrs. Wotherspoon’s rectum
chewed through, and Mr. Wotherspoon’s head rolling across the car-
pet. Before the undead neighbors could advance on her, her savior
arrived.
Uncle Frank.
He swept in and made short work of the two. He jammed a fire-
place poker between Mr. Ennenbach’s eyes and Mr. Tierney took the
sugar cube tongs right through an eye socket into the brain.
Uncle Frank had always been her hero. In part because they
weren’t far apart in age. Barely ten years separated uncle and his fa-
vorite niece. Legend has it, Grandma got her medications mixed up
one day and went on a rager. She tied grandpa to the bed and force
fed him black-market Viagra until he was harder than a Victorian’s
melancholy. She rode him so long and so hard the cops came in
response to the screams. Nine months later, Uncle Frank was born
while grandpa was still in traction with a busted hip.
After Ginny was born, she and Uncle Frank became thick as
thieves. She even supported him when he came out as bisexual.
The rest of the family might have had misgivings, but she knew it
changed nothing about the uncle she loved.
Uncle Frank always had a pun or joke. He took life so unseri-
ously, it grated on her parents to no end. Her father, Frank’s older
brother, was humorless and no-nonsense. Frank was all nonsense.
One Easter, he filled all the plastic eggs with chocolate pentagrams
and candy Baphomets. During their summer picnics at the beach, he
would scatter plastic ants on the food to freak out her mom or wear
outrageous speedos to annoy her conservative father, who dressed in
full business suits on vacations.
Her favorite times were when they went for drives. Uncle Frank
always had some car on the verge of mechanical suicide, but they
would drive around town, or out in the rolling countryside, singing
to the radio and talking about any matter of things.
From the rear of the house, a shuffling noise broke her from her
ruminating. “Uncle Frank, relax, you big silly! I’m fixing lunch. Just
hold your little horses!” She called out in a joyful lilt as she opened
the door of a vintage sea-foam green refrigerator.
 II

“The thing wrong with this country is we let these fucking dead
people walk around.” Cody Watkins said, a green-lensed night vi-
sion monocular to his eye. “Weak kneed, woke-ass, thin-blooded
assholes just sat back and did nothing while the end of the world
happened around them. Wanted to give them handouts and elect
them president.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure nobody wanted the Zombie outbreak,”
Lawrence Childers said from the passenger’s seat. They both sat in
the dark cab of Cody’s new model Dodge truck. It was the biggest
he could buy without needing a CDL license. They watched from
the conspicuous metal beast, assuming they were inconspicuous for
no other reason than they wanted to be.
“If you remember, the President shot an undead staff member in
the head during a live conference on TV.” Lawrence continued, al-
ready knowing it would do no good. Cody was ‘in a mood.’ Then
again, when wasn’t he?
“A goddamn PR stunt! He knew if he didn’t pretend to take ac-
tion, everyone would see him for the limp noodle asshole he really
was. Did you hear he wants to put the dead fuckers on welfare now?
Just think, taxpayer dollars wasted on fuckers who need shot in the
head on sight. From what I saw on Fax News, they speculate that he
probably wants, based on a guess, that these moving corpses have
life in them or something. Even if they have a soul or some shit, I
say kill ‘em.” Cody swept the dark landscape with the monocular
again. Nighttime at Horace Mantooth Ruddybottom Memorial Park
had been a hot spot of late. More than a few dead sightings had been
called in.
“If they do have a soul, and we’re killing them, wouldn’t that log-
ic poke holes in our pro-life stance?” Lawrence asked.
“Shut up.”
Lawrence resumed scrolling on his phone, swiping right on an
endless loop of hunky men. He kept it pointed away from Cody
so his friend wouldn’t see. This was Lawrence’s secret thing. He
couldn’t let his friend know. It wouldn’t be very ‘upright and virtu-
ous American’ of him.
“Get off your phone and help me. We need to bag a goddamn body
tonight. The Docs are getting restless. Plus, if we plan on building
our business, we need to show results.” Lawrence stashed his phone.
He and Cody grew up together, and Lawrence always followed
Cody’s lead. As adults, they got involved with the Put Better Amer-
icans Before Lesser Americans Because of Our Divine Right Or
Some Such Thing Militia. (America’s Best Militia, for short) Things
were great in those days. It was all playing war games, attending
rallies, fantasizing about hastening the collapse of liberal structures
such as electrical grids, and self-service checkout kiosks. But after
the dearly departed rose, and the militias took on the military, most
of them scattered.
Cody came up with the idea of a ‘clean up business’ for two rea-
sons. One: he liked to shoot things, and Two: zombies were an easy
nuisance to dispose of. Especially after the two of them started free-
lancing for Dr. Malodor and Dr. Hardy. Lawrence followed along
with Cody’s ideas like he always did. As long as he never found
out Lawrence liked to cruise for hunky men online and sometimes
undress the other militia members in his imagination, Lawrence did
whatever his friend told him.
“With any luck we’ll nab the big guy: Hamfist.” Lawrence mused.
Hamfist had been on people’s radar for weeks. Six foot nine inches
of shuffling dead meat, Hamfist did a lot of damage in West Thes-
salonia Township. He ate his way through a late night Mass and
used his massive fists to break into a home on the south side, just
last week. An absolute menace, all the zombie hunters were eager to
mount his giant rotting fists as trophies on their wall.
 Still thinking about the images on his phone, Lawrence wasn’t
paying much attention to the darkened park landscape until move-
ment jerked him from his reverie. “Oh look. We got one.”
Cody swung his night scope at the movement. A shape stumbled
between two trees ahead of them. “Paydirt! I think it’s Hamfist. Hot
shit!” Cody said, grabbing a rifle off the rack in the back window.
With poor stealth, they clambered out of the truck and approached.
“Hey there zombiezombiezombie. C’mere big guy.” Lawrence
cooed.
“It ain’t a dog, dipshit.” Cody put the rifle up to his shoulder.
Neither of the men were small. Cody was tall and muscular, while
Lawrence was shorter and lean. But the figure shuffling into view
towered over them. The obvious after-death emaciation had sunk in
Hamfist’s skin but it didn’t diminish his size. Broad shoulders and
thick trunk almost gave him the illusion of life. The give-away was
the bits of grimy skull showing through holes in his face and the
blackened skin of his right forearm hugging nothing but bone.
As he neared, he appeared to be holding something big in his right
hand.
“Is he dragging a body?” Lawrence asked as he pulled a small
flashlight from his back pocket. The brute jerked at the sudden
light but it confirmed he was indeed dragging a body. It appeared
he punched the man’s head so hard, his fist was stuck in the man’s
cranium.
“Poor bastard,” Cody murmured, watching Hamfist gently try to
shake the man off his fist. Once he realized he had two new food
sources standing there, he gave his arm a final hard jerk. The dead
body came off his fist with a wet slorp and flopped to the sidewalk.
With a couple of meals waiting ahead of him, he strode in their di-
rection, exuding a confidence not often found in the deceased.
“Say g’night.” Cody took aim at the big bastard and pulled the
trigger. The shot echoed off of the trees and surrounding buildings
around the park. As the corpse fell backwards with a grunt, Cody
whooped. Nothing like killing someone who was already dead. All
the fun with none of the litigation.
Hamfist hit the grass, struggling to move. Below his throat, a
small black hole smoked. Over time, Cody figured out a bullet right
below the throat immobilized them momentarily. It gave the two just
enough time to truss them up. Lawrence jumped into action. Pulling
long white zip ties from his back pocket, he bound the thing’s hands
together. Hamfist struggled against his bonds, snapping his jaws at
him. Next, Lawrence produced a roll of gaffer’s tape and wrapped it
around the zip ties and halfway up the forearms.
Without missing a beat, he did the same around the thing’s ankles.
When he finished, all Hamfist could do was rock back and forth,
moaning angrily.
“Twenty seconds. You’re losing your touch.” Cody looked at his
watch.
“Hey, this is a big dude.” Lawrence whined. He was champion
calf-roper before joining the militia. Even after the Night of the
Hungry Dead, he could tie up a zombie in record time. He wished
some of the militia members would have let him practice on them
instead. He might have been a few seconds off because despite the
decay and battle scars, Hamfist wasn’t a bad looking guy. Strong
check bones, broad shoulders, thick neck, bulging--
“Whatever. Get the tarp.” Cody interrupted his mental inventory
of Hamfist’s better qualities.
Lawrence ran to the bed of the massive vehicle. It contained a
toolbox and a tall metal cage to transport their prizes. Lawrence
opened the toolbox and got out a large, blue tarp. It crinkled as he
ran it to his friend.
“Quiet. We don’t want to alert any others while we work,” Cody
admonished him, forgetting the loud crack of the 30-30 rifle woke
up everyone in a five block radius. Lawrence kept watch, turning in
circles, watching for any other visitors. It’s been months since any
sizable population of the ‘pulseless masses’ posed a threat. Despite
recent small resurgences, there were fewer and fewer sightings.
“What about this guy?” Lawrence nudged the body Hamfist car-
ried around the park. It appeared to be a jogger, given the track
pants, expensive running shoes, and bloodied t-shirt proclaiming
they’d rather be jogging.
“Leave him. We clean up bodies that are walking around, not ones
dumb enough to go jogging at night during a zombie epidemic.”
Cody said.
 A few minutes later, Lawrence checked the straps again, making
sure their prey was secured. Satisfied he wouldn’t wiggle his way
out, he opened the tool box again and pulled out a sheet of printed
paper and a staple gun. On a nearby pole, he stapled the paper to it.
The ca-chunk caught Cody’s interest.
“What the hell are you doing?” He peered at the 8x11 sign.
“Well, I figured since we’re trying to build a business, we might
as well advertise, too. I made up some of these to post when we bag
a body.” Lawrence stated, both proud and apprehensive of what his
friend might say.
“’America’s Best Clean Up.’” He read aloud. “’Zombie hunting
and disposal. If you’re seeing this, then we snagged a zombie on this
very spot. You’re welcome.’”
Lawrence waited for the rebuke.
“Hell, that’s a great idea. Good job, buddy. I might put you in
charge of branding.” Cody slapped his friend on the back with
enough force to send him sprawling forward. “C’mon. Let’s drop
this thing off with the Docs.”
 III

Avery (they/them) parked in front of the quaint little white house,

decorated in mid-fifties fairy and accented with pastel pinks and
green trim. A perfect little picket fence bordered a small immaculate
yard. Along the fence, fragrant peonies and foxgloves stood tall in
the warm sun. Fat bumblebees and colorful hummingbirds buzzed
along the flora. Only Ginny would put this much effort into all this
kitsch, Avery mused.
As was habit, they looked up and down the street, checking for
dead pedestrians. With nobody in sight, Avery exited the beat-up
hatchback and scampered to the front door. Ginny swung the door
open before Avery even reached the front step.
“Bestie!” Ginny wrapped her arms around them and squeezed.
In some ways, Avery stood in contrast with their best friend. While
Ginny wore nothing but pastels, cardigans, cigarette pants, and
bangs; Avery made sure to never wear the same gendered clothing
in a single outfit. Non-binary and androgynous, they loved that Gin-
ny fully embraced the entire Good Housekeeping back catalog as a
personality type, but thought it might be to cover for some mysteri-
ous backstory. Avery hoped to be there when Ginny finally snapped,
preferably with popcorn.
“I’ll whip up a late lunch. I like the blue, by the way.” Gin-
ny beamed as she disappeared into the kitchen. Avery ran a hand
through their blue mullet and thanked her. Once Ginny was out of
sight, Avery peered down the hallway leading to the two bedrooms
and bathroom. Behind one of those doors something stirred, evi-
denced by the sound of muffled scuffling. At the end of the hall, an-
other door, lined with a complicated series of locks, remained closed
off. Avery swore to uncover its secrets.
“Why is it Uncle Frank’s bedroom only as the one deadbolt, and
your room is set up like a bank vault?” Avery asked for the hun-
dredth time.
“Protection, of course. Like I always tell you.” Ginny’s perky
voice came from the kitchen.
“Whose protection? Yours or the rest of us?” Avery asked, but
received no answer besides one of Ginny’s trademark giggles. She
might be eccentric, but you couldn’t help but love Ginny’s constant
sunshine.
“Here, go give this to Uncle Frank. He’s been especially restless
today.” Ginny handed a large Tupperware bowl to her friend. From
her pocket, Ginny fished out a key on a piece of red yarn. Avery took
both as if they might reach out and bite.
“Okay.” Avery said, unsure. Since meeting Ginny in Sophomore
English years ago, and thus also meeting Uncle Frank, he was al-
ways a cool guy. Now he gave Avery the willies. With trepidation,
they walked down the hall and stood in front of the door. The sounds
behind it stopped. With a trembling hand, Avery pushed the key into
the deadbolt and turned it. The clack of the bolt caused another bout
of sounds. Once the scraping and movement stopped, Avery opened
the door.
The bouquet of bleach, baby powder, and carnal house wafted
from the room. It contained a bed, dresser, television, and a tall un-
alive man. Uncle Frank sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. As far
as zombies go, he remained well preserved. His gray-green skin
drooped and splotched here and there, and he had the usual slouched
zombie posture. Despite the decomposition, he continued to cut a
handsome figure with his dark hair and good cheek bones.
The pale lifeless eyes watched everything, almost giving him an
air of intelligence. Avery wasn’t fooled though, Uncle Frank, de-
spite weathering afterlife better than most, was nothing more than
an animated corpse. An animated corpse with a particular appetite.
Today, Ginny dressed him in a blue button up, dad sweater, and
jeans. He even wore a pair of slippers. All he needed was a pipe to
complete the ensemble. Avery smirked at the image, straight off the
cover of ‘Better Homes and Carcasses’.
“Here you go buddy. Lunch time.” Warily, Avery sat the Tupper-
ware on the bed next to him and started to take the lid off.
“No, let him. He likes to do it himself.” Ginny said from the door-
way. Avery jumped at the sound of her voice. Ginny had a penchant
for ninja-like silence and then scaring the crap out of people. Avery
backed away as the gnarled hands grasped the bright plastic contain-
er and wrestled with the lid.
“Um, that’s new. Normally he’d just gnaw his way into it.” Avery
said, retreating into the hallway. After a minute of struggle, Uncle
Frank pried the lid off and let it fall from his hands. He plunged it
into the bowl and pulled out the mixture of cow brains and tripe. Av-
ery turned away, disgusted by the sight and the wet slurping sounds.
Frank attacked it with all the gusto of a toddler handed a birthday
cake.
They were in the kitchen sipping Orange Zinger, Ginny’s favorite
herbal tea, when Avery had to ask, “Doesn’t it seem strange Uncle
Frank isn’t decaying anymore? I mean, the guy has been dead for
months. Given the normal rate of rot for these guys means he’d be
putrid and immobile by now. Plus, the trick with the bowl? Is he
getting smarter? Do we want smart zombies?”
“Oh you.” Ginny smiled and shook her head. “You’ve had a
crush on Uncle Frank since college.” And she left it at that, as if it
explained everything. Another reason why Avery speculated their
friend was secretly unhinged.
Avery couldn’t argue with the crush part. As they sipped their
tea from painted teacups in the shape of a pink zinnias, they re-
membered all the times sneaking glances at the handsome man. And
maybe one or two fantasies used as masturbation fuel.
“I used to, but not since the decomp kicked in.” Avery quipped,
careful not to mention the most recent disturbing dream where Un-
cle Frank bent them over and used his rigor mortis zombie cock to
pound the hell out of them. It begged the question if zombies could
even get erections and led to a drunken late night internet search
that left Avery wishing they had left well enough alone. The worst
part was finding the weird zombie porn. Some people would fuck
anything.
 With the line of thought now are the forefront of their brain, Av-
ery teased, “Since Frank is in such good shape, you could make
some money off of him.”
“He’s family, not a sideshow.” Ginny frowned. “I’m taking care
of him. Especially after everything he has done for me.”
“All I’m saying is there are some sick freaks out there and he’s
still a handsome corpse. Could make some money if you got him a
willing participant. You know, for ‘compromising positions’.”
“You mean…Avery…you mean dirty movies?” Ginny would
have clutched pearls if she chose to wear them today. Avery started
giggling. She loved winding Ginny up. It was their goal to make her
swear. Even a ‘damn’ or ‘shit’ would be a win.
“Yep, zombie porn is all the rage right now. Desperate perverts
taking zombie dick. Hell, if you found someone daring enough, they
might let ol’ Frank go down on ‘em. You know, really eating that
pussy. Gobbling the cock.” Avery nudged her.
“Listen, I know Uncle Frank was quite popular when he was
alive. He had a number of boyfriends and girlfriends. But I’ll not
exploit him for money. Especially not for internet intercourse.” Gin-
ny shook her head at her friend. But even hidden behind her teacup,
the small grin peeked through.
“Maybe zombies like to fuck?” Avery shrugged, egging her on.
“I’m sure they don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t like to ffuucckk?” Avery dragged the word
out.
“Yes. They are not interested in fornicating.” Ginny sat back.
“You mean fuck? Say it. Say it!”
“Nice try.” Ginny raised an eyebrow at her friend. They both
started laughing, though Avery was even more determined to make
her swear.
The friends talked through the afternoon, and as the sky trans-
formed from blue to bruised purple, Ginny excused herself to her
bedroom. Avery craned to see how she made her way through the
complication of locks, but couldn’t follow the sequence.
A minute later Ginny emerged with a leather torso harness and
studded leash.
“Wow! What a setup. I didn’t realize you had gotten into BDSM.
I’m happy for you.” Avery said, shocked. “It’s kinda hot, actually.”
“Oh, you silly goose. This is for Uncle Frank. I’ve taken to giving
him walks at night. It helps with the restlessness. This way I can
keep a better hold of him, just in case.” Ginny admired the leather
straps and buckles. “You have to hand it to the slap and tickle crowd;
they make sure you don’t move unless they want you too.”
 IV

“I don’t see why you need to ‘supervise’, Doc. We have this down
pretty well. Lawrence and I work best as a duo.” Cody said as po-
litely as he could muster. Lawrence said nothing. The three men
crammed into the cab of the Cody’s truck. Lawrence attempted to
ignore the touch of the man beside him. Not that he found the guy
attractive. It’s been a while since he’d touched anyone. They were
back in Ruddybottom Park, on the opposite side of where they cap-
tured Hamfist.
“I’d like to say it’s nice to be out in the field more and gain an un-
derstanding of how you capture our specimens.” Dr. Remus Hardy
said, twitchy and uncomfortable.
“You’d like to say but…” Cody said, not giving the scientist a
break. He didn’t trust these science dorks. None of them. They all
just wanted to, well, he wasn’t sure what they wanted to do, but it
probably wasn’t good.
“Dr. Malodor kicked me out of the lab. She said I was ‘under-
foot’.” Dr. Hardy sighed. Cody grunted in amusement. Dr. Hardy,
sweating in his white lab coat, stared out into the night. He hated
being out here where there might be the undead. Or the living. He
felt uncomfortable with people, even more so since working with
Dr. Malodor, who he suspected didn’t care much for him. He also
suspected he had a slight crush on her, which terrified him.
Being sandwiched between the two men made it worse. Cody was
a big, barrel chested guy who looked down on him. His sidekick
seemed nice enough, though quiet and twitchy. Dr. Hardy convinced
himself it was an excuse to get some fresh air, but so far, all he
smelled was the inside of the truck: gunpowder and fast food farts.
“So, what are you doing with the dead folks this time?” Lawrence
asked.
“Oh, the same as last time; testing a difference in the formula.
We’ll get it right eventually.” Hardy said with an optimistic flair.
“And what were you hoping for last time? You’ve never explained
fully what you do.” Cody asked.
“They got a bit unruly this last time, but these zombies are just the
best test subjects for any manner of things. Dr. Malodor and I have
an entire list of experiments we’re running.” Hardy said, still not
answering the question. He used the same tactic to deflect questions
and pick up women in coffee shops. It never worked. When Hardy
didn’t offer any further information, the three chose silence.
“How much longer?” Hardy asked after the silence unnerved him
too much.
“As long as it takes.” Cody grumbled. The only reason he and
Lawrence hunted at night was because the scientists insisted the
men use discretion. “Someone will come along. They always do.”
 V

“How often do you take your zombie uncle for walks?” Avery asked
as the three of them walked down the dark park path.
“I started a couple of weeks ago. Uncle Frank likes the fresh air. I
mean, he can’t just sit indoors and watch reruns all day.” Ginny said,
Uncle Frank’s leash in hand. Leading the way, in his slow scraping
gait, he seemed to enjoy it, Avery supposed. He stayed on the path
and trudged forward with purpose.
“Of course, we must be careful. People with guns and no patience
might see him and get in a tizzy. You know, shoot first and all that.
Hence the reason we always go at night and always stay on the dark
side of the park.” Ginny explained. Avery said nothing. Weird as it
was walking a human as you would a pet, the nighttime stroll felt
nice. Almost normal.
Up ahead, Avery spotted a sign tacked to a post. “Uh, Ginny. You
might want to see this.” Avery tore it down and handed it to her.
Ginny’s lips moved slightly as she read it.
“’We bagged a zombie on this very spot. You’re welcome.’” Gin-
ny handed it back to her friend. “Well, fiddlesticks. I guess we better
run Frank home. Its good someone is out here getting the dangerous
dead off the streets, but I can’t risk them seeing Uncle Frank.”
Uncle Frank could not care less. He stood there, still in his car-
digan, trussed up like a dirty dad who needs to be spanked. Uncon-
cerned with his bondage, Ginny’s sudden nervousness, or the faint
aroma of rotten pork he exuded, he was living his best life. But then
again, Uncle Frank, while alive, seemed pleased with simple things.
Very laid back, he was quick with a joke or to remind people it’s
only life and one shouldn’t waste it by being upset. Either alive or a
zombie, he was quite Zen.
“What’s that?” Avery said, peering up the dark path. Even Uncle
Frank turned towards the approaching scrape-step-scrape-scrape-
step sound.
Ginny pulled on her uncle’s leash, but it was too late. A wom-
an came into view. A dead woman. Her long scraggly hair hung
in clumps and right foot turned around in the worst sprained ankle
imaginable. The ancient remains of her last application of make-
up smudged on her sunken face. The blouse hanging off her frame
showed scratched cleavage and a scarred stomach. Her Capri pants
were in a surprisingly clean condition.
Avery watched as Uncle Frank took a keen interest in her. He
ignored all of Ginny’s pulling and tugging. Instead, he watched the
woman’s jerky movements as she trudged ahead. She paid him no
attention. Zombies had little regard for each other without even a
polite grunt or obligatory head nod, but Frank seemed to have plenty
of regard for this one. Avery noticed the interest and again wondered
if Uncle Frank might be different.
“Uncle Frank, we need to go.” Ginny coaxed in soft tones edged
with fear. The dead woman, hearing her, lurched. As she did, Uncle
Frank staggered forward, pulling his niece onto the sidewalk. With
surprising speed, he reached the woman. His hand brushed the open
blouse, uncovering a breast.
“Holy shit, does he have an erection?” Avery gawked. The front
of Frank’s pants were indeed tented. As fast as the memory of her
disturbing dream appeared, she pushed it away. They’d deal with it
later.
“Uncle Frank! That is very unbecoming!” Ginny scolded as she
scrambled to her feet, only to drop again as the crack of two shots
echoed through the park.
The woman, and Uncle Frank, collapsed to the ground. Avery
crouched while Ginny tried to determine where the shots came from.
“Two for one, boys! This is a good night.” A voice hollered in the
distance. Sudden lights blinded Ginny and Avery as three figures
approached.
 “What did you do to Uncle Frank?” Ginny jumped to her feet and
ran to his prone body. A small black hole smoked in his neck. He lay
there, making slight moments, still showing signs of unlife.
“Careful, he’s temporarily immobilized, but it won’t last long,”
another voice explained.
“He wasn’t doing anything. We were only going for a walk.” Gin-
ny reached down to help Frank up, but an iron grip pulled her away.
“Let her go!” Avery yelled as they jumped to help her friend.
“It’s for her own safety.” Lawrence said, getting between Avery
and Ginny. Cody held Ginny in a tight grip with one hand and his
rifle in the other. Dr. Hardy skirted around all of them to scrutinize
his prizes. He mustered all his effort not to stare at the female zom-
bie’s breasts. He failed the resistance check and ogled them with all
his might.
“Isn’t she the chick Dave the Cook used to date?” Lawrence asked
as he leaned in for a better look at their kills. Dave the Cook was an
old school Aryan Nations member and official American’s Best Mi-
litia cook who only made white and beige food, less he be accused
of showing sympathy to the wrong side.
“Naw, Dave ate her after he got turned.” Cody said after giving
her a better look. “Though she is a cutie. If I was a corpsefucker I’d
take a turn with her.” Cody laughed. “I ain’t a sicko.” He said re-
membering his audience. Lawrence shuddered at the thought corpse
fucking. Not that he hadn’t watched more than a few videos online.
“Now, little ladies,” Cody turned the Ginny and Avery.
“I’m not a lady,” Avery corrected. “My pronouns are they/them.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your pronouns.” He pointed the muzzle
of his rifle towards the sky and rested it on his shoulder, in a proper
tough guy sort of way.
“No need to be rude.” Ginny shot back, shaking Cody’s grip off
and taking a few steps back.
“Whatever you say ‘Donna Reed’. What I’d like to know is why
this thing is strapped down like a one man freak parade and you’re
out walking him like a dog?”
Waves of red hot anger radiated off Ginny as she turned from
Cody to Dr. Hardy, who was engrossed with the spectacle of Law-
rence tying up the victim.
 “It is none of your goshdarned business. Why are you hanging out
with a former NECRO scientist?”
Dr. Hardy turned toward Ginny. “Do I know you?”
“No,” Ginny said with all the smoldering violence and menace of
a car fire, “but I know you.”
“Well, not sure what we’re going to do with you now.” Cody
drawled as he ignored the tense tete de tete between the 50s sitcom
refuge and the egghead. The blue-haired snowflake he’d already
marked as a potential threat. People going around looking like guys
who look like girls who want to look like guys who look like girls
were obviously unhinged and capable of anything.
“You’re going to let us go, and return our zombie,” Avery said.
“Or I will cut you.”
“Sure you will.” His chuckle could not have been more conde-
scending.
Lawrence already had the female brain muncher in the truck and
was working on Uncle Frank when Ginny ran up on him.
“Leave him alone. Where are you taking him?” Lawrence brushed
her off before she got a firm grip. Her flush face and damp eyes
might have played on his sympathy if he made eye contact. But
Cody’s scowl held more sway.
“Okay, I guess we’re doing this,” Avery said, pulling a black han-
dle from inside their jean jacket. With the press of a button, a long
blade appeared. “I fuckin’ warned you.”
Lawrence stopped pushing Ginny away from her uncle. Dr. Har-
dy froze in mid step. Cody lowered his rifle at Avery taking point
blank aim.
“What you gonna do?”
Without missing a beat Avery replied, “I’ll cut your dick off and
throat fuck you with it.”
“And if I shoot you first?” Cody asked, confident enough to be
amused because he had the gun. Also because they were women.
Well, the cute one was female. Whatever gender her friend was
didn’t matter because he still had a gun.
“Go for it. It’ll just piss me off.” Avery’s eyebrows knit together,
their eyes full of rage and daring him to pull the trigger.
“Avery no.” Ginny placed a gentle hand on Avery’s shoulder. “I
don’t want you hurt. Please.” With her other hand, she took the knife.
In a flash, Dr. Hardy wrenched the knife from Ginny. “Dumb
bitch,” he giggled. He felt brave enough to act since Cody had Av-
ery in his sights. Ginny lunged at him, but Cody caught her attention
and she stopped. This time he pointed the rifle at her.
By the time Lawrence had Uncle Frank in the truck, Cody had
corralled Avery to the stand against the cab with Dr. Hardy. The
scientist held the knife in what he thought was a threatening gesture.
Avery could have taken it from him with ease but didn’t want to
get shot. Mainly because Ginny’s said so. And the last thing Avery
wanted to do was piss off Ginny.
“We bagged you a pair tonight Doc,” Lawrence said, proud of
their accomplishments. “Anything else we can do for you?” He
hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and stuck out his chest.
“Yeah, let’s bring this one too. We need a control group.” Hardy
jerked his thumb at Avery who chomped at it, but he moved just in
time. “I’d say bring the cute one there, but we’re you’re out of room.
Unless you’d rather to mount her to the hood.”
“Naw, we’ll leave her here. Once we drop of this load, we can
come back, if you still want her.” Cody said, already pulling keys
out of his pocket. “Truss her up.”
Lawrence approached her, zip ties already in hand. As soon as he
got close enough, her foot flew up and connected with his testicles.
He collapsed to his knees. Cody swore and nodded to Dr. Hardy to
put the knife up to Avery’s neck as a threat to Ginny. Avery gulped
hard knowing there was little they could do.
“Don’t hurt them, please.” Ginny pleaded.
“It’s a hard world out here,” Cody said with a shrug.
“You are a horrible example of humanity.” The look Ginny lev-
eled at Cody would have vaporized him on the spot.
“I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘You are a cankerous
asshole’.” Avery offered. Cody shoved them forward.
A few minutes later, the truck pulled away. Ginny hugged a flick-
ering light pole, her hands zip tied so she couldn’t move. Above her,
a sign declaring the area Zombie free fluttered in the breeze. She
watched until the red taillights disappeared from view then strug-
gled to reach something in her sweater pocket. Wincing in pain as
her shoulder strained from the extended reach, she found what she
wanted. Between her fingertips she held a sharp razor blade.
“A woman has to be careful when out at night,” she said while
cutting the hard plastic. “You never know when a gentleman needs
his doo-hickey cut off because he tries to violate your virtue.”
 VI

The New England Care and Reestablishment Organization, or

NECRO for short, was a state-of-the-art facility to research new-
er and gentler ways to rehabilitate people in mind, body, and soul.
NECRO’S mission statement described their intention to engender
positive goals of physical and mental growth. Or at least the signs in
all the foyers of the many facilities said so.
It didn’t explain the sprawling complexes that were nothing but
top secret laboratories and executive boardrooms. Usually located
near industrial sized crematoriums. On the NASDAQ their stocks
saw only growth, while the portfolios explained in the vaguest terms
what people were buying stocks in.
NECRO scientists were on the front line of something, everyone
agreed. No one bothered to ask what they were on the frontline of.
The few who asked, soon stopped asking questions on account of a
sudden case of death.
Helmed by the shadowy and mysterious CEO, Mr. Hatchett, the
company was paving the way in something great. At least that’s what
Mr. Hatchett assured all the shareholders up until NECRO was shut
down during the Night of the Hungry Dead. Nobody could prove
they were responsible for the dead rising from the grave, nor was
there any evidence to indicate as such. Folks were tired of the all the
clandestine shit and decided better safe than sorry. The mysterious
Mr. Hatchett disappeared as did a lot of NECRO’s research.
Dr. Hardy, and his immediate supervisor Dr. Fanny Malodor,
were the lead scientists at the NECRO New Thessalonia Township
facility. Just outside of town, both militia and military went out of
their way to do as much damage to the series of large gray concrete
buildings during the worst of the fighting. The two doctors, dedicat-
ed to their work, continued on. ‘For the betterment of mankind,’ Dr.
Malodor would say in acidic sarcasm.
Deep inside the now abandoned NECRO facility, Dr. Fanny Mal-
odor adjusted the thick black-framed glasses perched in front of cru-
el dark eyes. She watched the group of five undead bodies. Wrist
manacles secured each of them to the walls. From behind a one-way
mirror, she studied their movements, or in some cases lack thereof.
From the observation room with only the best NECRO supplies and
tech, the scientists could run their tests unhindered by random inter-
ruptions or pesky things such as ethics or morals.
The clinically spotless testing room contained only the five test
subjects and an L-shaped table under the observation window. Of
the zombies, all but one stood there vacant and unmoving. With
no immediate food sources, they stopped fighting against their re-
straints almost immediately.
Dr. Malodor took particular interest in one tall male subject,
straining against his metal bindings with all the weak strength his
decaying body mustered. Why he wore a complicated leather har-
ness and a green cardigan sweater remained a mystery. His eyes,
milky and unfocused, searched for escape.
“I’ll finish the preparations.” Dr. Hardy said from behind a clip-
board. Dr. Malodor turned away from the curious creature.
“What is all this? I thought they shut NECRO down.” Avery said
from the corner of the room. When Cody and Lawrence pulled up to
the abandoned NECRO facility, Avery expected any manner of de-
generate games. From being locked in a room with these animated
carcasses, to a kill or be killed death match, or even garden variety
rape.
When Dr. Hardy led them deep into the dark, decimated building
Avery expected the worst. Walking into a well-lit, fully operational
observation room came as a shock. Stacks of papers leaned in the
corners underneath diagrams of chemical compounds taped to the
walls. A large window dominated the space. A control panel full of
buttons and dials sat underneath it.
 While Dr. Hardy hastened Uncle Frank, and his new friends, into
the other room, Cody ordered Avery to sit and keep their mouth shut.
For once Avery did what they were told, but only because they need-
ed to figure out what was going on and how to stop it.
Dr. Malodor glanced at Avery, her mouth turned up with a sinister
grin. Avery sensed the maliciousness in the woman, and decided that
she’d need taken out first.. When Dr. Hardy returned, he tossed a
shoe box onto a nearby table and switched his now stained and torn
lab coat for a clean one.
“What did you do to Uncle Frank?” Avery asked through gritted
teeth.
“You’ll find out.” Dr. Malodor said, her back to everyone and
pushed a button allowing everyone to see the collection they ac-
quired for the evening’s experiments. “Remus, have you given des-
ignations the subjects?”
“Yes. We have Uncle Frank, apparently. Next to him in the torn
shirt is Betty, the woman with half a face is Veronica. The other man
is Archie.” Hardy said, proud of his naming scheme. He snuck an-
other glance at Betty’s cleavage.
Malodor sighed, “And the large subject?”
“Hamfist.” Lawrence offered. “Everyone knows Hamfist.”
“Are you sure you made the necessary adjustments to the for-
mula?” Dr. Malodor turned to Dr. Hardy as he fumbled through his
notes. In doing so, he almost dropped the clipboard they were se-
cured to.
“Yes, yes. I isolated the problem and made the changes.” Hardy
whined.
“Hey Doc, you mind if we hang around this time. I’ve been curi-
ous what you get up too out here.” Cody drawled. He leaned against
the wall in the most arrogant way possible.
Lawrence sat in a squeaky office chair. He wanted to continue
swiping some more hunks on his phone.
“Stay if you want.” Malodor said over her shoulder, her little
smirk returning.
“What are you going to do to them?” Avery asked. Inside the
room, the five zombies, continued to accept their predicament. They
were a motley assortment. ‘Archie’ had no ears or nose and because
of his bald pate, he resembled a dildo with eyes. Next, ‘Betty’ with
the torn blouse stood next to ‘Veronica’ a woman with half a face. At
some point in her animated afterlife the right side took an incredible
amount of damage. The visible skull had deeps cracks from an im-
pact, the pieces held together by connective tissue. Hamfist towered
over everyone, menacing them with sour looks. Uncle Frank, still
in his harness and leash, tested his bonds with weakening resolve.
“You’ll find out soon enough what we have planned.” Dr. Mal-
odor replied in a cryptic tone.
“Oh, we’re trying new compounds on them. We’ve been using
these walking corpses as test subjects almost from the beginning.
We have a battery of upcoming trials we plan on running, but first
and foremost we’re trying out a- “Dr. Malodor hit Dr. Hardy in the
face with a nearby clipboard.
“Shut up, idiot.” She snapped at him. As her colleague rubbed
his aching face, she addressed Avery. “We have an opportunity to
perform exclusive experiments given the current situation. Call it a
convenient opportunity.”
“The dead rising is convenient?” Lawrence asked.
“Well, it’s convenient because of butterfingers over here.” She
jerked a thumb at Dr. Hardy.
“How did I know dropping that vial would start this catastrophe?
I thought you said you wouldn’t bring it up anymore,” he whined
some more. Cody, Lawrence, and Avery all shared a look.
“Never mind. Let’s start. Introduce the control group and admin-
ister the compound.” Malodor faced the glass, clipboard and pen at
the ready. Dr. Hardy glanced at Cody and jerked his head towards
Avery. Cody glanced at Lawrence and jerked his head towards Av-
ery. Lawrence sighed and stood.
“Sorry about this,” he said as he beckoned her to stand. Avery
protested by slapping away his hands as he tried grabbing for an
arm. Finally gaining a hold he yanked them out of the chair but Av-
ery already had a leg up trying to punt his crotch. As they tussled,
the click of a gun echoed in the room. Avery ignored it, better to be
shot than become a zombie buffet.
“C’mon Lawrence, grab a hold of this chick and let’s go.” Cody
teased.
 “I’m not a chick,” Avery corrected, swinging at Lawrence’s beet-
red face.
“Sorry. Let me correct myself. C’mon Lawrence, take this ‘IT’
and let’s go.” Cody’s sarcasm enraged Avery even more. Avery
launched themselves at the armed man. Lawrence stepped in their
way. Avery dodged and lurched for Dr. Hardy instead. He let out a
shrill yelp and held up his clipboard in defence.
“Either get in the room or I shoot your friend,” Cody commanded,
aiming towards the doorway leading out to the empty facility. They
all turned to see Ginny, half in the door, bent down and tip-toeing in
like a cartoon character. She stopped in mid tip.
“You found us! How?” Avery exclaimed in joy, then decked Dr.
Hardy with a haymaker. They all watched him spin around and
bounce off the control panel on the way down. Lawrence grabbed
Avery and hauled them into the testing room.
“Where else would you be?” Ginny said, standing up straight and
walking in with a normal stride.
“Her too?” Cody asked, jerking his gun at Ginny.
“No.” Dr. Malodor said in a quiet sinister voice. “No, she gets
to watch.” Ginny said nothing, but the two women glared at each
other as Ginny sat in the chair Avery recently vacated. Malodor re-
turned to the console and pressed a button, but nothing happened.
She pressed it again.
“The restraints are stuck. They are supposed to unlock all at once
but the switch isn’t working. Someone needs to go in and pry open
one, then the rest will release.” Dr. Malodor said, jamming a finger
at the button some more.
“It needs to be someone strong, those manacles are tight,” Dr.
Hardy said as he pulled himself up off the floor.
Cody looked from Ginny, to Hardy, then Lawrence who was still
wrestling with Avery in the testing room. Sensing a nearby meal, the
zombies were getting restless again and pressing against the shack-
les.
“Fucking pantywaists,” Cody grumbled and walked into the test-
ing room. Hamfist snapped his jaws, Betty was jerking her body
side to side while the other two weakly moved their arms. Uncle
Frank appeared just as agitated but instead of his focus being on the
humans in the room with him, he looked straight at Dr. Malodor. His
normally slack, ambivalent expression now a slack unambivalent
one.
“Interesting.” Dr. Malodor made a note. She turned to Hardy. “Let
me see your notes.” She pulled the clipboard from his hands and
flipped through the pages.
“I made the adjustments, trust me.” Hardy huffed, nursing his
sore face.
“You did make adjustments, that is true You tripled the compound
that was the problem in the first place. Now they will be twice as
agitated as before. Exact opposite of what we want. Idiot!” She ad-
monished him.
“Wait! Agitated!” Ginny exclaimed.
“Well, by agitated, we mean amorous.” Dr. Hardy explained.
“They got kinda touchy feely.”
“And with this screw up they’ll be fucking horny.” Malodor
sighed. “This will be worse than the previous test.”
“Not exactly,” Dr. Hardy said, grabbing the shoe box he brought
in earlier. “As a safeguard, I made sure if they got all horned up
again, they couldn’t do anything about it.” With pride he opened up
the box to reveal three severed grey penises. Ginny put a hand to her
mouth and gasped.
Dr. Malodor sighed. “I feel sorry for anyone you try to take to
bed.”
The three of them turned their attention to Cody as he struggled
to open a manacle of the half-faced female. She craned her head as
far as she could to bite him. Hamfist redoubled his efforts. His right
arm, nothing but taut skin over bone cracked and snapped. His hand
and wrist fell to the floor as his sharpened ulna raised into the air.
Everyone stopped and looked at him except for Uncle Frank. He
continued to stare at Malodor.
“Fuck it,” Dr. Malodor mumbled, pushing on the open door of
the testing room. It swung closed with a click. With her left she
pressed a different button and a loud hiss grew from above them.
Cody stopped struggling with the manacles and tried to open the
door. It refused to budge. Lawrence and Avery stopped fighting long
enough to help him.
 Soon a fine mist sprayed from small jets in the ceiling. It coat-
ed everything in a glistening sheen. The humans were yelling and
pounding on the door, but the shackled corpses grew quiet, even
Uncle Frank lowered his gaze.
“What is that? What are you spraying them with?” Ginny asked.
“It won’t affect Avery, will it?” Her questions were unheard over the
yelling of the prisoners inside. Ginny was about to repeat the que-
ries, this time louder when she noticed Uncle Frank’s hips moving.
All the zombies hips were moving, some bouncing up and down,
others gyrating. Hamfist was using his bone stump to rub his chest.
Avery, Cody, and Lawrence stopped their din to look back at the
creatures. They watched the grinding and gyrating for a moment.
Hamfist looked right at Lawrence and pushed his torn shirt aside to
reveal pale nipples. He rubbed them with the ragged bone. The con-
trol group all turned, redoubling their effort on the door to escape.
“Don’t do it, Malodor.” Ginny’s fists clenched at her side and her
face scrunched in rage. She approached the scientists.
“Oh ‘Gidget’ sit down and watch the show.” Dr. Hardy sneered
at her.
“Oh, here’s the button I was looking for a minute ago,” Malodor
sing-songed as she jabbed at a blinking red button. The hissing
stopped and a loud *clack* followed the silence. Each of the mana-
cles sprang open, freeing their prisoners.
“Oh fudge.” Ginny whispered.
 VII
“Get me out of here!” Cody bellowed as he pounded on the glass.
Upon their release, the zombies all lurched in different directions.
Hamfist reached for Lawrence, Betty lumbered towards Archie. Un-
cle Frank tracked Avery, while Veronica went for Uncle Frank.
While the scientists stood at the window watching the frantic ac-
tivity, Ginny approached, her trusty razor nestled between her fin-
gers. If she had to, she would cut a bad person in the jugular vein.
And if that bad person still didn’t so what she asked, she’d make
sure they died slow.
“Let them out.” Ginny demanded once she was within reach of
the female scientist.
“I think that would be a very bad idea.” Malodor said, observing
the chaos. “It seems your uncle is interested in your little friend
there. Maybe he recognizes her?” She scribbled a note as Ginny
watched Uncle Frank shuffle towards her best friend.
“Uncle Frank. Be nice!” Ginny scolded him through the glass. If
he heard, he didn’t acknowledge it.
Inside the testing room, the panic increased. Avery backed into
the corner, bumping into the L-shaped table. Lawrence was backing
towards Cody who continued to pound on the window and scream.
Hamfist approached the men.
“Uh, Cody. A little help here.” Lawrence squeaked. Cody spun
around. Hamfist towered over him, his hips continuing to buck.
Cody, terrified by the slab of animated meat in front of him, on top
of the necrophilial sexual tension permeating the air, almost forgot
he was packing heat. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t the type of
heat Hamfist wanted. The moment Cody reached for his gun, Ham-
fist’s giant meat hook came up and punched him right in the face
with such force his fist punctured through the former militia mem-
ber’s skull.
Lawrence screamed. Hamfist’s fist pressed against the now
bloody and brain covered mirror. He pulled his hand out with a loud
squelch and the body fell to its knees, gaping head resting on Ham-
fist’s crotch. The giant zombie grabbed it and started humping it.
After a moment he started fumbling with his decrepit pants. Unable
to manipulate the button he tore at them until they fell to his feet.
“UrrRggg.” He moaned in horny frustration, remembering Hardy
had cut off his penis. At the time he didn’t care, but now he wanted
to use it. He looked around. Spotting Lawrence cowering near Av-
ery’s feet, he shuffled over, pants at his ankles.
Uncle Frank neared his niece’s best friend. While they leaned
against the table, Veronica passed him. Her milky eyes locked on the
same target. Uncle Frank grabbed her limp arm and pulled her away.
She stumbled into him, resting against his chest. The non-damaged
side of her face looked up at him. With lazy half-circles they ground
against each other.
“Now that’s a dry hump.” Avery said to Lawrence. He was grate-
ful the couple found interest in themselves instead of him. It made it
easier to concentrate on not losing control of his bladder.
Veronica brushed her hand against Uncle Frank’s crotch. He
pushed his pants down. “UrrRgg.” He also moaned in horny frus-
tration, seeing his penis was purloined. Its absence didn’t deter their
grinding hips any.
On the other side, Betty and the earless man, Archie, were on the
ground. He lay on top of her, a decaying plank of dead meat, thrust-
ing against her, too far gone to care if he had nothing to put inside
her. She didn’t seem to mind as she met his lackluster thrusts with
her own.

“Is Uncle Frank fingering her?” Hardy asked squinting through

the one-way glass. They all turned their attention to the couple.
There was no mistake, Uncle Frank was two digits in.
“Your pet seems to have a higher cognition level than most. Why
is that I wonder?” Dr. Malodor asked while furiously scribbling
notes.
“Uncle Frank has always been special.” Ginny said in her ear. As
she did, her hand, razor blade between two fingers, wrapped around
the thin neck of the woman. In her usual chipper tone, she added.
“Let them go or I’ll have to do a little cut-cut on your neck. Blood
is so hard to wash out.”
“I can see how special he is.” Malodor ignored the death threat
and pointed her pen at Uncle Frank.
Hamfist continued to shuffle in Lawrence’s direction until Un-
cle Frank caught Hamfist with this free hand. Still with two fin-
gers in Veronica, he pulled Hamfist close. The brute resisted at first,
then leaned against the pair, rubbing his bone stump against Uncle
Frank’s chest. Sharp parts of the bone popped the buttons of Un-
cle Frank’s cardigan, as the three writhed against each other in lazy
pleasure.
A rip of mid-80’s guitar riff erupted around them. It throttled back
to let the breathy warbling of a yacht rock veteran sing the beginning
refrains to the 1986 hit Danger Zone. The zombie’s paid little atten-
tion to it, but Avery looked up to the small speakers in the ceiling.
“Is this Kenny Loggins? What the fuck is wrong with you peo-
ple?” Avery yelled.
“Yes, Remus. What the hell is wrong with you?” Malodor asked
her colleague, careful not to turn her head as Ginny held the razor
against her neck.
“Well, I figured if they want to get it on, might as well throw on
some sexy music. Ladies get all wet to this. The Top Gun Soundtrack
has a one hundred percent success rate.” Hardy defended his musi-
cal choice as the chorus blared in their ears.
“Oh honey, have you not been with a woman before?” The con-
cern in Ginny’s voice might have been touching if it didn’t make
such an excellent distraction. Malodor pulled a slender black rect-
angle from her lab coat and jammed it against Ginny. Surprised,
she let go of Malodor’s neck. Malodor pressed a button causing the
box to emit an electric crackle. Ginny’s body went rigid then fell
backwards.
“I work with zombies and this twerp. You think I’m not going to
be armed?” Malodor said, returning to the show.
“I’ve been with women before,” Hardy whimpered.
“Who cares?” She said, going back to scribbling notes. “Pay at-
tention, you might learn something here. Seems Uncle Frank knows
his stuff and he doesn’t care who with.”
“Uncle Frank is bisexual and I’m very proud of him.” Ginny
croaked from the floor, twitching.
“That much is evident.” Malodor said with increasing interest.
Hardy watched with increasing disgust.
As Kenny Loggins continued to pound out the speakers. Betty
and Archie were still pounding hips against each other, ignoring the
others. Things had progressed with the cozy threesome. Hamfist
seeing the action Veronica was getting, wanted some of that and
nudged Frank’s hand down and around his buttocks. Frank insert-
ed three fingers inside the rotted rectum. Hamfist’s hips encouraged
Frank to go deep and hard.
To much to take, Lawrence’s panic crested and he broke for the
door. As he passed behind Hamfist, the giant turned and grabbed his
neck in an iron grip. The direction of Hamfist’s motion caused Uncle
Frank’s hand to complete insert inside the cold sphincter.
“Let me go!” Lawrence screamed. Hamfist stood there, hips rear-
ing back against the fist now lodged in his ass. Uncle Frank began
fucking him with equally unenergetic thrusts.
Hamfist pulled Lawrence close. The alive man became a pillar of
fear and shock as Hamfist hugged him close. Lawrence closed his
eyes, ignoring the putrid smell, and waiting for the first bite into his
cranium. Instead he felt something at the front of his pants. As soon
as his Levi’s hit the ground, Lawrence’s stubby, thick penis stood at
attention harder than it ever had before.
“No! This isn’t the time!” He screamed at his own cock. Hamfist
turned him around and bent him over the nearby table. Lawrence’s
face smashed against the glass so everyone could see his multitude
of expressions as a giant fist entered his tight asshole.
Hamfist stepped closer to the shining white ass. This unsteadied
Uncle Frank, who was still wrist deep in the horny zombie. The mo-
tion caused Veronica to lose balance and fall back. She landed on the
table near Lawrence, in much the same position.
 “Oh shit,” Avery exclaimed as the dead woman looked over at
them. The undead orgy served as a dangerous momentary distrac-
tion from Avery’s mission to sneak over to the only corpse not trying
to cornhole someone, and grab his gun. The woman reached out to
Avery. Searching for any sort of closer weapon, Avery spied Ham-
fist’s detached fist on the floor. In a flash, Avery had it in their hand,
brandishing the pointed bone like a dagger.
Uncle Frank, seeing Veronica reaching for Avery, grabbed her
arm. He continued to thrust his arm as Hamfist did the same to Law-
rence. Lawrence’s screams began to sound suspiciously like moans.
Uncle Frank looked down at Veronica bent over the table, her
bare ass exposed. He looked over to Avery and the large disembod-
ied fist. He nodded at it. Avery didn’t understand at first. He nodded
at it again, then glanced at his cock-less crotch. He did it once more
before Avery got the hint.
“Are you fucking kidding me Uncle Frank?” Avery exclaimed.
He grunted at her and nodded at his crotch again. “Sweet, Beard-
ed Baby Jesus,” they mumbled to the sky. Avery stepped up to the
humping trio. With the pointed end of the bone against the hole that
used to be Frank’s swinging disco stick, Avery hesitated. “Are you
sure about this?”
Uncle Frank grunted at her, as did Veronica who seemed to un-
derstand what he was up to. “You owe me.” Avery said and pushed
the sharp bone into the hole. The squishing and resistance of tis-
sues caused Avery to gag. Once it hit bone, they gave it a twist and
a last hard shove. “It’ll stay as long as her Kegels aren’t working
anymore.” Avery gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder and
backed away again.
He pressed his hips forward and entered Veronica’s vagina. Ve-
ronica reached up and grabbed the leash connected to Frank’s har-
ness. He fucked her from behind with his fist-cock while still going
to town on Hamfist’s ass with all the gusto a zombie can give. Which
is to say, not much. It resembled a sad porno at half-speed and ev-
eryone doped up on Thorazine.
Dr. Malodor said as much from behind the glass. Her pen was a
blur of note taking. Dr. Hardy, was doing his best to adjust his lab
coat to hide his erection. Ginny was shaking off the effects of the
taser.
“The couple in the back are taking notes,” Hardy pointed out.
Indeed, Betty spread her legs as Archie made a sluggish fist and
pushed it inside of her. He got halfway up to his decayed forearm
before pulling it out again. As he did, her vagina came off with it.
He wore it like a candy bracelet, bringing it up to his face and taking
a bite of her labia. She took exception to it and tore his throat out
with a swipe of her hand. He looked at her, acknowledging only the
motion, but not the action. She slammed his head against the nearby
wall. His already mushy head splattered into a stain of brain and
bone. Betty crawled on hands and knees to join the orgy.
 VIII

“How are you feeling…what’s their name?... Avery? Okay, Avery,

would you say your arousal has increased or is about the same as
before?” Dr. Hardy’s voice asked over the music.
“Are you kidding me?” Avery screamed at the mirror. “This is the
sickest shit ever. Get me the hell out of here.”
“Lawrence. Same question. Would you say your arousal has in-
creased or is about the same as before?” Lawrence still bent over the
table as Hamfist continued on his ass. His response was a moan as
his eyes rolled back in pleasure.
Uncle Frank seemed content as well, engrossed in reaming Ham-
fist while lazily pounded away at Veronica. Occasionally he’d look
at himself in the mirror.
Betty crawled over, ignoring Avery plastered against the wall.
She used the table to stand then lowered her crotch to Veronica’s
hand. Veronica reached up inside the vagina-less opening, trying to
emulate the action going on around her, and to her. Instead of rhyth-
mic in and out, Veronica grabbed a handful of guts and pulled them
out of the other woman. They slid to the floor in a plop and Veronica
continued to drag out foot after foot of intestine.
“To hell with this.” Avery exclaimed. They scooted around the
grotesque group of fist-fuckers. She reached Cody’s dead body. His
gun was still holstered to his waist. Before reaching for it, Avery
looked up at Lawrence. His face glowed crimson around a goofy
grimace.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked.
 “Don’t let him…Don’t let him…” Lawrence struggled to speak.
“Eat you?” Avery offered.
“…Don’t let him stop.” Lawrence sighed.
“I’m done.” Avery slipped the gun out of the holster and stood up.
“Ginny! Hit the deck!”
Inside the observation room, Ginny froze, a chair held in mid-air,
cocked and ready to swing at the back of Dr. Malodor’s head. She
tossed it aside and fell to the floor. Dr. Hardy squeaked and tripped
over his own feet attempting to exit. Dr. Malodor looked up into
the barrel of the automatic. The color drained from her already pale
face. Hardy’s fingers crunched as she stepped on them on her way
out the door.
Avery tried to pull the trigger, but nothing happened.
“Safety. Take off the safety.” Lawrence groaned, sounding close
to either death or orgasm.
After a couple seconds figuring out where it was, Avery clicked
off the safety, aimed, and fired. The mirror shattered and the thun-
derous report made Avery’s ear’s ring. Lawrence had enough pres-
ence of mind to cover his head. A large shard fell down across Ve-
ronica’s mouth, cutting a perfect line. The top half of her head rolled
off the table. Uncle Frank continued to hump away.
Ginny peered up over the console in time to see Avery take aim at
Betty. She still had Veronica’s arm inside of her despite the loss of
Veronicas head. Avery squeezed the trigger again and the right side
of Betty’s skull painted the nearby wall. She fell into the pile of her
own organs.
Next Avery rounded on Hamfist who only had eyes (and fist) for
Lawrence. Avery didn’t hesitate to put a bullet in the brute’s brain.
He fell backwards and his fist pulled out of Lawrence followed by
a loud fart.
“AaahhhHHHAAaaa!” Lawrence groaned then convulsed as
thick jets of white goo splattered on the floor between his feet.
Avery swung the automatic towards Uncle Frank. He stopped
humping and stared at his gore covered hand. When Hamfist fell, it
freed Frank from his ass, but the movement also dislodged the fist in
Frank’s crotch. The fist remained in Veronica, the bone poking out
like a handle. Or a popsicle stick.
 “Avery! Not Uncle Frank!” Ginny stood up screaming. “He’s
friendly, remember?”
“Are you sure?” Avery their eyes twitching from him to the other
bodies. Uncle Frank looked up at Avery, then down at his crotch.
With a low grunt, he shuffled forward. Avery stepped back but didn’t
lower the weapon. He shuffled past and stopped at Cody’s body. Un-
cle Frank reached down into the mash of brains and blood that used
to be a head, pulled out a handful and ate it.
Ginny rushed over and unlocked the door. Avery slid past Frank,
happy to be out of the horror show.
“Are you okay?” Ginny taking the gun from Avery. She popped
the clip and emptied the chamber, before setting it on the console.
Avery didn’t bother asking about her proficiency with firearms. At
this point nothing surprised them.
“No, I’m not okay, nor will I ever be. Are you good?” Avery gog-
gled at the scorch marks on Ginny’s cardigan.
“This is my favorite sweater, but I’ll live.” Ginny’s persistent and
infectious smile returned to her face. “Now, I think we should go
home. I’ll fix us all a little something to eat back at my house.”
“Nothing for me, thanks.” Lawrence gingerly stepped by them,
holding his pants up with one hand. “I think I need to lie down.”
“Are you sure you don’t need a hospital?” Avery asked. “He was
really rawdogging your O-ring. I mean, I don’t think your farts will
ever make a sound again.”
A forlorn look settled on Lawrence’s face as he watched the now
inanimate Hamfist. “No, I’m fine. I just won’t be able to sit for a
while.”
Munching on some brains, Uncle Frank entered the room. Ginny
grabbed his leash and led him towards the exit. Uncle Frank stopped
to stare at the open shoe box full of severed dicks. Ginny pulled on
his leash, but he refused to move. With a sigh and a gentle smile,
she grabbed the box. “Fine, I’ll sew it back on when we get home.”
Lawrence took a last meaningful look at Hamfist then followed
Ginny out, offering the use of Cody’s truck. Someone else had to
drive, though. He wouldn’t be able to sit for a couple days.
“Oh, I need to do one thing,” Ginny stopped, giving Avery Uncle
Frank’s leash. “I’ll be right out.” Avery didn’t bother asking, their
threshold for weirdness far beyond maxed out.
Avery, Frank, and Lawrence exited. Once they were gone, Ginny
opened a specific cabinet door underneath the console and pulled
out three syringes and a clear resealable bag. She entered the obser-
vation room and stuck Hamfist, Veronica, and Betty each in the butt
with the syringe. For all three she pulled up the plunger, filling it
with sickly green pus and putrid blood.
Once all three were full and secured in the bag, she put them in
her sweater pocket and gave them a happy little pat.
 IX

“You owe me an explanation.” Avery said over a cup of Earl Grey

tea with extra Bergamot. This time her teacup was a quaint daisy.
Ginny said nothing, only smiling serenely over a pink tulip cup of
Lemon Zinger. It wasn’t lost on Avery that Ginny seemed to know
more about the scientists than she let on.
“I can’t imagine what you mean.” Ginny deflected. “And besides,
all’s well that ends well. We got out alive, and Uncle Frank got out
undead. Though I am sad his friends needed shot in the head. I think
he would have liked to have others to hang out with.”
“I’m pretty sure they were all just fuck buddies. Those situations
always turn out awkward, in the end.” Avery tried not to think about
what happened at the NECRO facility, but it haunted their dreams.
Like the dream last night of Uncle Frank chasing them around with
the fist cock. What disturbed Avery more was when their dreamself
stopped running, bent down and grabbed their own ankles. Luckily,
Avery woke up before Uncle Frank caught up.
“You still owe me an explanation. The bitch in the lab coat acted
as if she knew you.” Avery pressed again.
“New Thessalonia isn’t a big town. Maybe we met at the grocery
store.” Ginny picked up a nearby plate. “Shortbread?”
“I will solve your riddle, some day.” Avery took a buttery cookie.
“I am only a simple woman who is happy everyone is safe now.
On the bright side, I’m glad Uncle Frank enjoyed himself. He
doesn’t go out to meet others like he used to.” Ginny said then bit
the corner of a shortbread.
Mick Collins was born at a very young age in the wilds of southern
Idaho. After a few decades, he finally got his fill of all the sage-
brush and rattlesnakes he could eat, so he struck out into the world.
After slinging some bass guitar, and general shenanigans in Austin,
Texas, he currently lives in Pennsylvania with his wife Mel. He is a
Bi author who has published four novels. His most recent novellas
are Verum Malum and Dick Wiggler and Other Useless Super-
powers as well as penning a few alibis. (Just in case)

He is one of the co-hosts of the Bi+ Podcast.

Find out more at http://michaelrcollins.wordpress.com

Find other titles on Godless: https://godless.com/products/mi-

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