I named King Splutch. I Zombie King.
Once I like to write. Once I like soccer mom and have furry pet. Once I wear underwear and do fun dance with pretend karate moves. Once I ate cheeto and dorito.
Now I eat brain.
Zombie plague start with Grammar Nazi. He bite me in wiener (always knew wiener was too big for hand to hand combat; it always poke out from Splutch’s shorts). Normal human take three hours to turn when they is bit by Zombie. With King Splutch, infection take six months to crawl up pee-pee and make me Zombie.
Because I have big wiener.
King Splutch did not enjoy. King Splutch would prefer mounting healthy wiener onto pole and wave around to cheer up sad people, like cool banner guy in Braveheart army. But after bite on foreskin, Splutch’s wiener turn gross and moldy. During six months of wiener-rot, no woman touch Splutch’s wiener, even though it is very handsome.
Make Splutch very sad.
Once I become Zombie, I have many Zombie girlfriends. But they is not same. They smell weird, and they is always too skinny. All ribs and no boo-tay. You know what Splutch is saying? Boo-tay very important.
Zombie high five.
Every day, my Zombie followers bring me brains and eyeballs. I grow fat and bald, and even though I know is evil, I in love with grammar. Brains and eyes is nommy, but still: Splutch know in his heart that grammar is not good for soul. Loving grammar is no good for best stories, is no good for what is left of Splutch’s withered heart. Splutch used to be more. Splutch used to be…Man? Something? Author? Whore? Splutch no more remember.
Splutch feel tears trickle down cheeks.
Splutch wipes tears with crumbly hand and looks around throne room. It old and filled with cobweb. Many stacks of accounting and grammar books. Zombies love accounting and grammar. Zombies love anything gross and old and perpetuating.
Suddenly, Splutch see little black mammal scurry across floor. Fresh meaties! Splutch will summon Zombie guard immediately!
Splutch say, “RRRRR!!!!” (Guards!)
Splutch point at scurrying mammal. “RRAAAAHHHHH!!!” (Get him!)
Four Zombie guards shamble after mammal. Mammal dart around with electric tablet in mouth. It run toward Splutch and stop by Splutch’s feet.
Splutch go “Rrrraaawrrr,” and swipe at mammal, but no connect; Splutch’s body old and rotted, and no move fast anymore. Mammal opens tablet and Splutch see title of book called ECHO.
Blazing arcs of lightning surge through my body, transforming desiccated tissue back into healthy muscle and dancing bundles of neurons. My gut shrinks back into rippling washboard abs. New hair springs from my scalp, covering my head less than a second. Fresh, healthy skin materializes over my body in undulating waves; wherever it appears, King Splutch’s scabrous tissue falls away in disgusting, hand-sized flakes.
And last but not least, my trademark uniform appears on my body: Booty shorts and bow tie. Your favorite author (and perennial Man Child) Kent Wayne is back, bitches! Kent Wayne’s back—all right!
(have to resist breaking into a little Back Street Boys dance right here)
Bitefighter, my loyal buddy and 10 lb. Terrier Extraordinaire, drops the eReader and jumps into my arms. He gives me a bunch of kisses and I can’t help but laugh and ruffle his little head.
“Thanks little buddy! Now let’s get the Dark Knight out of here!”
I set him down and we rush past the quartet of zombie Grammar Nazis. They swipe awkwardly at us, but it’s been years since the zombie plague overtook the earth, so the remaining ones haven’t had anything to eat for quite some time. Subsequently, they’re REALLY slow.
I run past a suit of knight’s armor. and dart my hand out to the haft of its longsword, yanking it out of the sheath without breaking stride. I kick open the door to a hall and start running past near-petrified zombies, swiping off heads as I pirouette and twist, my dusty longsword circling and whirling. In a matter of seconds, Bitefighter and I have escaped from the zombie fortress and are running across the sun-kissed length of an open field. And then we spot it.
In the middle of the field is an abandoned zombie defense vehicle.
I recognize these from before I turned; there are a lot of variants—school buses, bulldozers, hummers—but this one is the freakin’ best:
A soccer mom volvo SUV.
Soccer moms banded together after the Turning, and their SUVs quickly became known as the most secure, most lethal zombie defense vehicles ever created. Why wouldn’t they be? The ability to organize handfuls of screaming kids AND running a successful corporation AND competing in grueling Crossfit matches…of COURSE soccer moms would make the best zombie defense vehicles! Their minds are like Batman’s, only honed on the merciless, soul-wearying fields of suburbia.
I jump in, and Bitefighter hops onto my lap. The key is still in the ignition and it’s got a full tank of gas, but I see that whichever mom built this thing also equipped it with solar power, a hybrid battery, and the rudimentary beginnings of a zero-point siphon.
I can’t help but grin. God bless soccer moms. Each and every one.
The engine roars to life, and what do you know? My favorite song by Taylor Swift starts pouring from the speakers. I start singing along, and Bitefighter howls along with me:
“And when we go crash, ing, down, we come back every tiiiiime, ‘cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style…” We continue belting out Taylor Swift classics as we ride off into the sunset.
The adventures of Kent Wayne and Bitefighter continue!
(Zombie Apocalypse edition)
Have you fought the good fight against zombie hordes, only to slip and let one of em bite you on the unmentionables? Lost all hope that you’ll ever enjoy being a healthy-skinned human again? Never fear! Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here: Vol. 1 on Kindle. Vol. 2 on Kindle here: Vol.2 on Kindle Vol. 3 on Kindle here: Vol. 3 on Kindle #kindle #kindleunlimited #sciencefiction #scifi #books #novel #book