A collection of zombie-inspired works, told through over-lapping story arcs, penned by new and seasoned WP writers!
#TeamClassic
#TeamFantasy
#TeamVoodoo
#TeamEcrivain
#TeamInsidesAndEntrails
Major...major cougar, major pain, major WTF, and major hunk. Lennox leaned against his VW camper and looked from Rosario, to Suzie, to Dorian, to Jeff. His new companions were sitting under a tree, frying fish and talking about those dirty zombies that were trying to kill them all. Everyone now lived in a world infested with the walking dead, the Zs, the animated corpses with drooling jowls and ribbons of skin hanging from between their teeth. The scent of blood still lingered in Lennox's nostrils. In his mind the vision of grass and flowers dotted crimson remained. It was barely two days ago when a pack of zombies tried to attack the little group. The walking horrors were clever enough to hunt in small groups, like wolves, surrounding Lennox and his companions, trying to get to the small child with them first. Lennox had lunged for one of the Zs, his butterfly knife made a squelching noise as it dug into the beast's temple and pierced its brain. Both Rosario and Jeff shot at the zombies while Dorian tried to pull little Zoe away, for the child had decided she was not going to let those Muthafuggers get away with trying to eat her brain.
Major trouble and hella strange, Lennox thought as he tried to open a can of peaches with his now zombie-brain-free butterfly knife. And what does that make you Benjamin? "I'm Lennox, not Benjamin, not anymore," he scowled under his breath as the knife slipped under the metallic lid and a gush of peach juice squirted him in the face. "Motherfu-" He stopped mid-swear to see Dorian's ward, Zoe, standing across from him.
"Do you float, kiddo?" Lennox wiped the juice off his face with the back of his hand, doing little but smearing it across his skin.
"Huh?"
"You make no sound when you walk. Maybe it's 'cuz you're about the size of a flea." Lennox smiled at Zoe; she was probably the only person without a Major nickname from him. Though she was a storm in a thimble, she was a sweet kid.
Lennox's heart went out to Zoe; she was too little to have to live through this whole zombie thing that plagued the world. Then again, didn't he have to live through hell in his childhood? Sure, there were no zombies when he was a kid, but there was society that thought if you stepped out of line and weren't normal like everyone else, then you should be put away. Then there were parents who agreed with said society and were the ones to drag you off to the place with the padded cells. Born barely two minutes apart from his brother, Lennox and his twin were like two peas in a pod. Then the boys broke and all the king's horses and all the king's men could not put the twins back together again. In the asylum your boudoir is filled with nothing but straight-jackets and tiny pills than make you see flavours and taste colours.
"Why are you knitting your brows like that?" Zoe shifted her weight from one foot to the other, pointing at Len's forehead.
Lennox hadn't realized he was scrunching up his face. There was still too much past left over in his brain for him to be content in his oh-so-charming-zombie-filled-stinkin' future, for it was a past that changed everything for him. "I'm trying to get them to meet," Lennox lied and handed Zoe the peaches, not in the mood to eat anymore. "Knock yourself out, kiddo."
