It had been two days since the zombie bit her. In that time, she had begun to develop a fever. The bite wound had at first glazed over itself in a thick clear mucus, throbbing with an insatiable pain. After about a half a day, the pain began to increase and the thick clear membrane began to emit a foul and putrid smell.

In order to hide her ordeal from her tribe of wandering misfits, she had doused her arm in bleach, peroxide, followed by a very liberal application of perfume. No one had really noticed that anything was extremely wrong until she began to develop a slowly rising fever.

Members of her group; Dave, Alison, James, and Terry, had discussed amongst themselves if Anna had been bitten or if she had just been the latest victim of food poisioning. They had settled on food poisioning because it was extremely common and the group had made a pact to immediately tell the group if they had become a casualty.

It was after about a day and a half that Anna’s face begun to drain of all its color and her temperature eased up the scale slowly, until it got to its current place, 103.2. She was scared, and while she attempted to hide her true problem she knew that there was no hope that she would be spared. As they sat around the campfire that night, in the large field in the middle of the country, she began to feel uncontrollably attracted to eating flesh. She felt a hunger within her that began to grow exponentially.

She was still fighting the need for flesh and eating when; she sat up and said to her traveling companions. “I’ve been bit.”

Without a hesitation, Dave, her best and longest friend pulled out his shotgun and with his hand shaking fired a shot right at the middle of her head.


Posted by in Fiction, Short Stories, Writing, Zombies