by Al K. Line
Thirst overcame his qualms.
As he bent over stiffly his foot tapped a small pocket sized thing, he realized it was some form of tablet. One of those cheap iPad rip-offs everyone seemed to 'need' nowadays. As he kicked it out of his way to get to the flask it sprung to life, screen flickering into action, the last few minutes of battery life being consumed as it played some kind of pornographic movie where people seemed to be doing it on a retro bus — weird. His eyes were drawn to the screen like flies to open wounds. A pop-up box appeared as he slid the tablet away with his foot, and he couldn't help but carry on watching.
Faster than his conscious mind could comprehend a series of sick and very twisted images bombarded his brain and Kevin was no longer Kevin. Wave after sickening wave of depraved acts and brutalities overloaded his senses. Scenes of children in military garb hacking the limbs off babies in a small African village. Men in shirts and ties laughing as they kicked the roughly severed head of a woman around in their back garden. Teenagers beating a gay man to death in the middle of a busy shopping street. Mass graves, flesh melting off victims tortured just for kicks, faces melting from acid, toes sliced off, nipples burned with lighters, people ripping out the insides of innocents still alive. Killing then raping children, laughing over their mutilated bodies.
On it went, the worst depravities the human race committed, condensed down to milliseconds. Flashes too fast to register consciously, but all lined up in a very specific sequence to have a profound effect on the brain and the body.
Atrocity after atrocity, that should never be imagined, let alone carried out. Scenes too sick to even write about, but all performed by man. By people who were well aware of what they were doing, reveling in the physical harm and psychological damage they inflicted. Other images were more akin to fractal pulses of light, multiplying in the cornea as the signals sent were turned the right way up by the brain.
Bulging pulses that ballooned out of the back of the eye, growing, multiplying, fractal shards penetrating deep into the very heart of emotion and logical thought. Systematically ripping it all to shreds and swelling inside, no room left for emotion or conscious thought, only room for animation and the hunt for food.
As the images pulsed the brain reacted, burgeoning desires overwhelming before a quick death, the result of anaphylaxis, then re-animation. Echoes of images playing out in nightmarish dreams, as what was once Kevin faded away with madness until a last glimmer of gratitude flew into the ether, joyous that he no longer had to face the foul thing he had become.
The infected body came back to a new form of life, no longer aware that it used to be a human being named Kevin. Primitive impulses slammed into it.
Food.
Where was the food?
Brains and still warm flesh of people.
The newly re-animated body stumbled away from the rotting corpse, it needed something fresh and full of life-force to satisfy its needs. It ran fast, away from the long dead, away from the factory and out into the road, heat shimmering up off the black surface. Distortion made it lose its footing and it crashed into the tarmac, grit sliding under the skin of its face. As the un-Kevin began to right itself, to continue its hunt, a noise rumbled ever closer. He never even made it past those first few primal urges before a 1950's bus named Basil rode over him and killed him for the second time in under two minutes.
It was a real bummer of a day by anyone's standards.
###
"You bloody cheat," pouted Ven as a card fell out of Al's sleeve. She knew it, no way Al could have been such a good player over so many damn games.
"How is that card getting to be there, I am wondering," shouted Al, wide-eyed. Trying his best to not look like a big cheat. He used his best face of innocence that he had been practicing so he would not be being found out and called the names, but he wasn't so sure he was being too convincing now the card had not stayed where it should very much have been staying.
Ven covered her ears, trying to tone down Al's booming voice. "Too late Al, you don't fool me with your 'oh so innocent' wide eyes. You have been cheating all along. And stop bloody shouting, jeez."
Ven brushed crumbs off the table, trying to block out the sight of chocolate bar wrappers, the half drunk soft drink cans, and the circular stains all over the table. She shuddered inwardly, still unable to understand how people could find it acceptable, doing her best to not jump up and whip out the Pledge polish and give it a good once over.
Lost in thought about the dirty habits of men, and the fact Al had been cheating at cards all this time, she was suddenly shaken abruptly out of her reverie.
Bump...
Bump, bump, bump.
"What the hell was that?" asked Ven.
"Well," said Kyle from the driver's seat. "It was hungry, angry, and now altogether squishy. What do you bloody think it was?"
"I am knowing this game," shouted Al, pleased to have a distraction from his cheating. "We have been playing this game before and I am thinking I am very good at it."
Ven just rolled her eyes.
Here we go again. Don't these two ever get bored of saying the same stupid thing over and over.
Bos Bos chased zombies in his sleep, twitching and growling quietly at those that came between him and a good cheese sandwich.
Tomas gurgled happily, full-bellied and letting out the occasional contented burp. All while the world continued to disintegrate into a state of uncontrolled madness that the infected reveled in. While most of the few remaining sane humans cowered in corners or fought for their lives.
Apart from those on Basil bus.
The adults talked and bickered amongst themselves as they trundled over the crazed hunters — ruled by the zombie botnet. Occasionally the bus swerved to avoid half consumed rotting corpses, the abandoned victims of the infected. But more often than not they were driven straight over.
While they played I Spy and card games, and tried not to get annoyed with each other about who ate the last of the snacks.
It was Al.
The End.
Ready for more? Then why not buy book 4 in the series? Click here to buy Zombie Slaver now.
Author's Note
Thanks ever so much for reading. I hope that you have enjoyed this collection of the first 3 books and are looking forward to reading book 4 in the Zombie Botnet series.
If you want to get in touch then email me: [email protected]
I would be very grateful if you could leave a review for any of the books you have read so far, or for this collection. Reviews can make a real difference in terms of sales and spreading the word, so please just leave a line or two if you possibly can.
You can find a list of all available books on my author page on Amazon: Al K. Line on Amazon.
Thanks again, I appreciate it. And remember — only click a link you are sure you can trust, we know what happens otherwise, right?
Don't forget to visit www.zombiebotnet.com to claim your free copy of the lost story: Al vs Zombies
Happy surfing.
Al
