Imagine a world where the undead exist and you hope one side or the other will pick you to join them. What if the wrong side picked you?
Barb lay faced down on the pavement. Her warm blood flowing away from her like a river, carrying with it her life. She was helpless to do anything but watch. With a last shuttering gasp, blackness enveloped her.
…
“Hey lady, you okay?”
The smell of vomit and cheap liquor stung her nose. She gagged. Perhaps Barb had cheated death after all. She pulled herself up. The ugly gaping wound was still there. She could clearly see intestines, but there was no blood. Not a drop.
Her heart wasn’t beating. She wasn’t breathing.
“Oh geeze, not undead. Anything but zombie. This is certainly going to put a damper on my sex life. And the whole flesh eating things. I’m a vegetarian for gosh sakes. This isn’t going to work for me,” she yelled at no one in particular.
