The Last Letter - A zombie story by Django Bohren
A version of this was allegedly published in Zombies Quarterly, but I’ve never actually seen a copy of it. Contains adult language after the jump. Just like the real zombie apocalypse.
Hey Andy…
I hope you get this letter. I hope you survive. Those crazy bikers should be by in a few days to collect letters to bring to your camp.
I’ve been bitten. I figure I’ve got a couple of hours before this bullshit zombie fever takes over and I try to eat anyone nearby. Of course, since I’m the last one left in our bunker, it’s probably not much of a problem.
I figure I’ll be just as stupid as the rest of those flesh-eating, moaning, monster bastards outside.
I put the Quarantine tag on the door right after Morgan bit me (had to beat his zombie brains out with a lunch tray first), so as long as nobody’s stupid enough to open the door, I’ll starve to death before I can be a real danger to anyone.
Christ. I guess death or zombification shouldn’t be much of a surprise at this point. I mean who DIDN’T assume they’d be dead or a zombie within a few days of the first infection reports?
Remember how cool we thought we were, selling zombie merch? We were on the cutting edge of the fashion trend. Back before these things started showing up?
When we first started seeing that shit on TV I thought it was some sort of modern War of the Worlds prank. Or some awesome flash mob. I was even inspired to come up with a couple of new sticker slogans to cash in on.
Wouldn’t that be nice? If this was all a big joke put on by Orson Welles’ ghost?
Ha. Suddenly those lunch boxes and T-shirts with George Romero movies on ‘em weren’t nearly as funny and punk rawk. Sometimes I think, “What if we’d sold shirts with pictures of world peace on them?” Would the world be a better place right about now? Heh. I guess that’s pretty self-centered.
Ego-testicle like we used to say.
Shit, dude, this sucks. My back is all cold around where Morgan bit me. Funny how in all the Zombie movies, people hurt when they transformed. But we just get cold and tired and then wake up dead.
Did I ever tell you that I ate all those candy bars you were selling as a fundraiser back in Lincoln Elementary? You got in all kinds of trouble and Dan Benson got suspended for it. I’ve felt kind of bad about that for years. Heh. Sorry about that.
If this shit ever ends, can you bury me somewhere far away from town? If there’s any of me still around to bury, I mean. They’ll probably burn the bodies if there’s anyone left who can start a fire.
Shit. I’ve been sitting here, staring off into space for 20 minutes since I wrote that last bit. Just thinking about dying I guess.
My elbows and feet are cold now. I can’t see too well. Gotta stop now while I still have time to put this letter in the drop box for those bikers to pick up.
Watch your fucking back. It’s dangerous out there.
Django