Humanity's Death: A Zombie Epic by D.S. Black

Author:D.S. Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ghosts, zombies, zombie action, apocacylptic, paranoarmal, undead adventure, absurd fiction, apocacylptic post apocacylptic, undead action adventure books

2

“You OK?” Mary Jane was staring at Duras as he came back to the world around him. He still sat with her on the blazing roof. A few moments had past, may be a few minutes, may be over an hour, he didn't know.

Had it not been for her... for Mary Jane...surely he would have lost what was left of his mind. The guilt over loving someone other than his dead wife caused him great pain. Just lust, that's all. I could never really love another woman, especially not in this hell.

But he could and he did. He remembered the first night he realized how much he did love her and couldn’t live without her. They'd taken a mattress and sheets out to the burning pits to watch the dead burn in the night.

“I always hated religious scum. But, when the shit flies, Christianity is an excellent tool. Control and power, that's the ticket.”

“I know babe. You've told me a million zillion times.”

“Never gets old.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Her hand had slipped under the sheets and gave a solid squeeze. She unzipped him. “Does Tommy need a blow job?”

“I'm the leader of the empire, of course I do. Life is stress.”

She unbuckled his pants and brought him out into the hot night air. Death blurred in his eyes as the fires burnt the night. The ashy ruin of the Old World. The Before World. But in that moment, he felt alive and powerful. He felt he understood his destiny, as though somehow all this made sense. The rising cloud of smoke rose as Mary Jane felt the gush of joy running down her throat.

As Duras came he watched the bodies burn, not moaning, forcing the pleasure to stay inside him, sending his eyes to the back of his head. Dear Jesus, thank you for the world. The world where I reign supreme. I am the giver of dreams, the maker of death. Me and my band of anti heroes. Together, we...that is to say I, Control and Own this rabble of survivors.

He fell over with relief and Mary Jane had laid her head on his broad chest. She listened to his heart beat. She felt the warm breeze coming from the pile of burning bodies and smelled death's sweetness, burning hot in her lungs and filling her soul with power to march on. She could remember the days before, but made a special effort to ignore them. Recalling her dead husband and son always made for a bad day. The memory of her sweet blue eyed boy. That was always the worst. His birthday. His smiling teeth. A little boy's dream.

A tear had ran down her face.

“I hear a tear fall.” Duras had said. “Tell me what's on your mind.”

“My son. I'm alright. I'm just remembering a time. Me and my husband took him to Charleston for the weekend. He loves Folly Beach.”

“Loved.”

“Yes, loved.

Duras and Mary Jane loved each other. A love forged in a apocalyptic furnace. A love that would soon be tested by the Militia; a group Duras had no idea even existed.

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