zombie

Did you ever think it won__ be the undead who kill us, but ordinary people?

We are born. We die. Somewhere in between we live. And how we live is up to us. That__ it.

There__ no better way for a woman to punish a man than to make him sleep away from her.

She smiled at him like a freshman invited to the senior prom. It made my blood boil.

But I was still determined to protect her. It might be the one good thing I would ever do in my life. I wondered if God would even notice.

There__ nothing worse than delivering bad news to women. I hoped I wouldn__ get good at it.

I heard them tearing at it. It was the sound of mortality.

I don__ know how these things died without benefit of a bullet to the brain pan. They seemed to exist in an eternal twilight of longing.

Black vomit came gushing out Samantha__ mouth, adding to the puddle already on the floor. Samantha was covered in a sheen of sweat, crouched on all fours on the wooden hallway floor, like an animal. Her thick yellow fingernails made deep scratches in the wood as her body convulsed with each new expulsion of the black vomit. Her hair was long and thick and full; thicker and fuller than he had ever seen it. It reminded him of a lion__ mane. Her skin was a sickly pale grey with disturbing red boils the size of grapefruit and weeping puss-filled black blotches where others had burst. Spider webs of blue veins were visible under the skin all over her body.

He first noticed it on the plane ride. There was an odor about her and it was becoming more pronounced with each passing hour. It was like the smell of rotting meat.

The rumor claims that the shambler virus is now airborne. It can be contracted without getting bitten now._ _ character quote

Lionel was filled with awful remorse. He asked where had Thomas been last seen, and the boy told him he was headed for the church. Lionel nodded and went home to fetch his shotgun. Throughout the crisis he had done no violence, preferring to preach the sanity of pacifism to the flock. This was different. This was a requirement of the father to the son. He prayed over the shotgun while Darla wailed with the children in the living room. He got in his truck and drove to the church. -- From "The South Fork Penance

A grey-suited figure with badly-scuffed shoes was squatted over a woman__ body, obscuring her face and upper torso. A loose, white dress; torn, now mostly red. A pattern of rose petals, drenched in blood. One of her sandals was missing, scarlet streaks and spatters on her jade-green polished toenails and pale, slender ankles. Another step took him around the hunched and twitching figure. It ignored him, intent on its work. Then its victim came fully into view _ and he saw her ruined face.