Darlings of Decay

by Chrissy Peebles

  The Z infection, however, has mutated, affecting younger persons like her, or those treated early enough, differently. Now she must cope with weird physical changes and habits no girl wants to be noticed for. Then she meets Gabe, a good-looking part-Z like her, and fears falling for him. After all, how can he, who shows hardly any Z symptoms, be interested in someone like her?

  But time is running out... Becca needs his help as she and her cousin Carm search for their missing mothers and fight off hungry Zs.

  Most of all, she needs to find something, anything, to stop this deadly transformation before it is forever too late...

  Prologue

  A virus. A freaking virus.

  I'd been sick before, you know, measles, mumps, kid stuff … but not really sick.

  Never like this.

  This ... this couldn't be happening.

  I tuned back in to the doctor's explanation…new diet, pills, blah-blah-blah…and let his words fade again into the background.

  Gone was the golden tan I'd nurtured over the summer with tanning cream and hours sunbathing by the pool with one of my cousins. My skin had a weird grayish tone, like I'd rubbed myself with fireplace ash.

  I gazed at my legs, now mottled with strange gray blotches, and my pretty pink toenails peeking out from beneath the sheet.

  The machine next to me made a frantic beep-beep.

  I turned and caught my reflection in the metal canister sitting on the table next to the bed. Whimpering, I rubbed a hand over my cheek, wondering at the scaly texture, while at other times I felt almost nothing.

  Large, deep brown eyes under ebony bangs stared back. I saw a decent nose.

  Spots.

  I took in the pinkish patches and my uneven skin tone, which reminded me of those old battleships on the PBS show I'd watched with my aunt.

  For the first time in my sixteen-year-old life I was ... ugly.

  I struck the bed frame over and over, the pain barely registering. The machine's whir-click-whir turned into a wail almost louder than mine—beep-beep-beeeeeeep.

  A nurse in blue scrubs rushed in and tried to reassure me, even as she attempted to keep me immobile on this slab they called a bed.

  "Relax, it'll be fine," she said.

  "No, it won't," I yelled, "it won't!"

  How could looking like freaking King Tut without his wrappings ever be fine?

  ***

  Bio: C.A. (Christine) Verstraete is a big Halloween fan who enjoys a good scare or two. Her short fiction has appeared online and in anthologies including Timeshares and Steampunk'd from DAW Books. Her YA book, GIRL Z: My Life as a Teenage Zombie, releases August 1. Stop by her website at http://cverstraete.com or visit her blogs, http://girlzombieauthors.blogspot.com and http://candidcanine.blogspot.com.

  A.R. Von

  (0.5 DreamZ)

  Prequel

  By

  A.R. Von

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright© 2013 Dream Z Dragon Publishing

  Story By

  A.R. Von

  Edited

  By

  Bonnie (Leanore) Elliott

  Cover Art

  By

  Wicked Muse Covers

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of excerpts or quotations embodied for reviews.

  ~Wunder~

  Why? Why the torture? Each and every single night since I became a woman I awaken sweating, panting, hot and bothered from the pure sexual torture. Many times with my hand rubbing my most intimate place. A dream, so many dreams. Each one is different, but all contain the same faceless dark haired stranger.

  “UGH!”

  The only things I know for sure is he is tall, has raven black hair, the same color as mine, but much shorter. He has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Glowing eyes that seem to be able to see into my soul. My heart’s deepest desires and he always grants them to me without pause. It was strange at first, seeing him and yet not. Not being able to make out his facial features, except for his eyes. I got used to it throughout the years, I guess. One thing I DO know, is the way he makes me feel, always!

  So much passion, heat and desire. He makes me feel beautiful, irreplaceable and wanted in a way, I imagine, every woman wants to feel.

  Frustration at its finest. This latest dream seemed more realistic than all of the others. I still feel the ripples on my skin from his touch; the most intimate touch I’ve ever experienced, the only touch from a male I’ve had in such a manner. The goose bumps are just starting to go away. His caress is always so sensual and arousing. My mouth is still dry from all of the panting I’ve done, my panties are drenched and my heart is still pounding.

  No words could ever describe my desire to meet this man of my dreams. That is—if he truly does exist. I’m going to be 25 years old and have zero sexual experience. I’d give anything to feel even a portion of what I’ve felt during these amazingly satisfying yet torturous dreams. Anything!

  When I finally do get out of bed and stroll towards the bathroom, the floors feel extra cold on my overheated feet. “Definitely starting off with a cold shower.” I turn on the water full blast cold, toss my sleep shirt and panties in the hamper and brace for the shock of cold water against my flesh. “ACK!” Holy crap does it sting. But hey, it works. My body no longer feels the intense heat of arousal, just the residual tingles left after the orgasm, still lingering along my body. I fully submerge after adding some hot water to the mix, when I hear banging on the bathroom door. I jump slightly and slip a bit, almost landing flat on my ass. Luckily, I have fast reflexes and right myself quickly.

  “Wunder? WUNDER?? Are you all right in there?” My dad is a real worry-wart when it comes to me. The best dad ever!

  “Yea dad. Water was cold. That’s it. I’m fine.”

  “Alright hun. I’m making coffee now”

  “Ok, dad. I’ll be out in a few,” I answer him with now chattering teeth. I’ve only added a touch of hot water and need to add more, so I can get washed up and get out. It’s just that my body is super sensitive after these dreams.

  EVERYTHING feels more intense. But the shock of cold water is the only thing which seems to help tone down my racing hormones and heated flesh to at least some semblance of order, so I can function properly and keep my next pair of panties dry, for now.

  Raising the temperature a lot more, I get all washed up. Making sure not to stimulate any of my sensitive parts by lingering any longer than necessary. I try to push the haunting dreams to the back of my mind, instead of having them hovering in the forefront, teasing me as you would a dog with a juicy steak. After drying off, I jump into my daily uniform consisting of all black. Black cargo pants, T-shirt, my steel-toe combat boots and I head to the kitchen.

  I know my dad is going to want to have the traditional ‘morning chat’ with me. It’s a ritual with him and I honestly don’t mind it. As long as it puts his mind at ease, I’m good. “Morning dad” I grab a mug off the counter and peck him on the cheek at the same time.

  He has a slight smirk on his face. “Morning, Wunder. How was your sleep?”

  I can tell he’s trying really hard to suppress his knowing smile. “It was fine. I slept…Nothing special. Same as usual” I say with a grin while adding sugar and powdered milk to my coffee. I miss flavored creamers. They’re very hard to come by these days. There aren’t many factories left in the world for the distribution, though I’ve heard there once was. The last time I had it was about 2 years ago now. “Dad, have any new shipments come in?”

  “No, not since last month. Why do you ask?”

  “I was just thinking of a nice creamy addition for my cof
fee. It’s been so long since I had any flavor to it. Besides sugar that is. It would be nice, you know?”

  “Yea, it would. Who knows when we’ll get more. I’ll ask around to see if anyone heard of any of the other areas getting their hands on some. I’m sure someone will make a nice trade. If they have any on hand. If not, I’ll put the word out and we’ll see what happens.” His smile brightens as if his mind has wandered off to a happy place.

  He never shares with me about what brings him these secret smiles…ever. I can tell when he’s there in his happy place, because his eyes glaze over and his smile is relaxed. No tenseness to it whatsoever. My dad is so handsome. I never understood why he hasn’t dated anyone since my mother—Yea, at a solid six feet tall, full head of dark brown hair, hazel eyes and a killer personality. I just can’t understand why no one has shown any interest in him.

  I’ve asked him about dating once and he looked seriously hurt by the question and said he’s just not interested. I left him alone after that. I know he misses my mother, but I would rather see him happy. Whatever his choices are with relationships, or anything else he has going on, his happiness is all that matters to me.

  I might have a normal life now—well as normal of a life a freak of nature that lives in a world filled with infected people can have. Normal…as in training daily to fight and kill to stay alive as well as keep others safe. But it was a bit difficult for me growing up. No mother, abnormal genes and being raised by a single parent, my father, Lance.

  Don’t get me wrong, he’s the best father a girl could ask for. I think he did an excellent job raising me. He taught me everything I know and then some. Well, with the exception of a few minor details that a father prefers not to discuss with his only daughter, you know, the ‘sex talk’.

  When I was checked over just recently, the doctors determined that I could have children, just like any other woman in the world. As a result, my dad actually had one of the local female physicians give me the talk. Oh yea, that was fun! I believe I had Doc Smith blushing when I blurted out everything I knew. Which I have mostly learned from the guys at the training center and my team mates. They always speak openly and boldly of their conquests and love lives.

  Then of course, there are my dreams. I’ve not told her about those though. She said I knew an awful lot for not having experience in that area. THAT made me blush and we ended that conversation right there.

  My dad couldn’t look me in the eye that evening when I got home. I was smiling the entire time, knowing how awkward he felt about having to send me to someone else for the talk. I didn’t tease him or anything though, despite my constant grin. Well, I did in my mind, but I knew he would be even more uncomfortable if I did. I couldn’t do that to him. He’s had enough to deal with, just having to hold on to the secret. The secret which lives within in me. He’s kept it for so long, on top of having to continue living with the loss of his one true love and soul mate, my mother Jasmine.

  There are some others beside my dad and myself, who know what I truly am, but not many. My dad had no other choice but to try and find out more about me and what to expect as I grew and developed. He wanted to be prepared in case of anything happening because of my DNA. There seems to be no other part zombies of any sort around. So, he went to a couple of his closest friends who worked in the medical field, and they ran a multitude of tests on me. Comparing me to other humans, other zombies, even a few animals (to date there’s never been an infected animal of any type).

  I don’t remember much about most of it. I was way too young to hold those memories. I do recall lights, very bright ones and some smells. I now know what one particular scent was. Zombies. Boy, do those suckers stink! I think it’s my heightened senses that make it so bad. I’d describe their scent as a combination of the stink in the air which comes into a car window when driving by an old sewage plant on a very hot day, combined with a rotted corpse. The smell of death reeks!

  My dad always tells me he doesn’t smell them the way I do. Not even close. He can only smell them when he’s up close and getting personal with handing them their death. One of those ‘up close and personal meet the end of my machete’ types of meetings. He’s been by my side for all of it. He still is to this day. Even every month, when I have to go renew my proof of living, he’s right there by my side.

  He insists on being there in case any changes occur within me. So, I won’t have to feel alone or frightened.

  All they do to process anyone for their proof of living (which everyone has to go through no less than once a month) is prick your finger to draw a bit of blood. I guess you could say it’s somewhat similar to what a diabetic would do to test their blood sugar. Except in this case, they’re checking for a different sort of abnormality within. You know, the fucked up infected kind.

  It’s an instant result, which I learned took years to develop. A color coding or some crap like that. If you’re clear, you get a new proof of living card, updated with your finger print, photo, blood type, test date, bar code and an expiration date.

  If you fail?

  Well, that’s a whole other story that I’ve yet to have the horror of knowing. The procedures are very hush- hush. I think it’s kept this way, so people won’t have a fear of being tested. Best to keep them in the dark, so there’s no hesitation for monthly testing. There would most likely be a riot of sorts if the truth did come out. But what do I know?

  Gathering my thoughts to the present, I shake my head to clear my mind. “Sounds great dad…thanks! I appreciate you asking around.” I hurry now and finish up my last bit of coffee and toast.

  “I know how much you’d enjoy a special treat in your coffee too. I better split.” I quickly wash my cup and plate as I glance over at my dad. “I have training this morning and then a patrol with the team the rest of the day. I’m not sure how late I’ll be tonight. You know it’s never the same. Something extra always being tossed in or suddenly remembered.”

  “Yeah, I gotta go too. Check up on those supplies and look into our chance for a luxurious cup of coffee, then get to work myself. You be safe out there and don’t go soft on anyone during training today.”

  “What do you mean go soft?”

  At my reaction, my dad burst into laughter

  Ignoring his expression of amusement, I continue with my defense, “You know I can’t use all of my strength on anyone I train with. I’ll break a bone or something. You of all people know how that goes.”

  “I do know, Wunder. But when I heard that Tank pinned you yesterday I was a bit shocked. You’ve never gotten pinned before. It’s like you’re not paying attention or something lately. Just don’t let your guard down. Focus on the now and kick ass!” He says with laughter still lingering in his voice.

  “Tank tricked me. That’s the only reason he was able to pin me. He faked some serious injury. I bent over him to check and make sure he was all right. I thought I seriously hurt him. My guard was down because I was concerned for my team mate. I won’t fall for that crap again. I told him as much too. He’s the only one there who knows I can best him no matter what. He knows all about the real me. I didn’t think he’d pull a stunt like that. He’s such a pain in the ass!”

  With my frustrated description, my dad is shaking with laughter.

  I still feel the sting of embarrassment because I was taken down. The first pin in my training history by my team ‘equal’ Tank the Skank. I’ll get him back. Oh, you bet I will. Payback is a bitch and revenge is a mother fucker. The idea of sweet retribution brings a smile to my face. I’ll think of something to pay him back. “Bye dad. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Leaving the kitchen, I stop at a panel by the entryway and press on the four corners of the panel my dad installed years ago. It silently pops open, and reveals a small walk-in which is loaded floor to ceiling with weapons of all sorts. I grab my weapons belt with a high powered Taser attached. The belt is loaded, with different weapons like an expandable baton and some oth
er odd and ends I’ll need throughout the day. I change things over here and there. Depending on my mood and what’s planned for the day. I always have at least two guns on my person and a nice amount of sharps (aka knives, daggers, throwing stars and sword) in my duffle.

  Ready for war…another daily routine for me. I never leave the house without weapons. You never know what’s going to happen. What might lurk around a corner or even right in front of you. So, I prefer to play it safe, instead of being sorry.

  With my gear now packed, I make my way out the door being sure to lock it up tight. Wow! It’s such a gorgeous day out. So bright and a perfect temperature. I’d say it’s at least 70 degrees in the sun. I love this time of year when the weather is like this. It brings a smile to my face and an extra bounce to my step as I make my way to the training center.

  There are a few people milling about, moving on with their day. Not many paying much mind to me at the moment. A few smile and give me a quick wave which I reciprocate. Most are tending to this year’s harvest, so we all have enough produce to last throughout the year. Others are going to either a training center similar to the one I’m heading to, or some other daily activity.

  I love the rush of training. It’s one of the only things that allows me to vent and feel…really feel ordinary on a daily basis, even though I have to hold back my full potential. I know this is the one thing I can do really well and be able to feel normal the entire time. Today though is extra special. I’ve just thought of how to get Tank back without doing him any harm. Well, not much harm except maybe to his huge ego. I can’t help but to smile. He’s going to flip out, once he experiences a Wunderwedgie!

  ~~~~~~~~

  My favorite part of each day is patrolling. It’s the best when there’s some action. What I mean by action is when some of the zombie scum aimlessly wanders into our area and we get to give a no mercy beat-down.