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Birth of a Lich

For Daniel Bryant and Arthur Hanson, being bitten by a zombie isn't the end. It's only the beginning. Warning: BL Notice: This story is considered complete and will not be expanded once the last chapter uploads. This is one of the many stories I've written in the last ten years and never released. I'm releasing it now as something of an apology for readers of *Mage Me Tidy* and *Deep Sea Party* who haven't seen any updates during the last month due to me being distracted with moving and various other personal issues. Please enjoy. Authors are welcome to use what's here as the foundation for the creation of other ZED Units.

Ashpence · Krieg
Zu wenig Bewertungen
34 Chs

Chapter Five

I glanced down at my own torso and winced at the wide swathe of livid bruises and welts running down one side. There was no question of where they'd come from. It was the side of my body I'd been laying on. At some point while I'd been unconscious, my blood had actually pooled inside me.

"Does it hurt?" he asked in concern. I shrugged. Everything hurt, but I'd already gone over that.

"Can you get my boots? I'm not sure I can bend over that far yet. The warm water is helping and I don't feel as stiff, but—" I paused as I realized what I'd just said and Hanson froze at the verbal reminder I'd died or, at the very least, came close enough for rigor to set in.

"Too soon?" I asked, doing my best to appear innocent. Hanson managed to laugh and I laughed with him. It was gallows humor and not funny at all, but it successfully distracted us long enough for me to be fully stripped.

"I look like a beaten whore," I said, attempting to keep up the levity when we saw the welts extended down my legs. "I guess I'll have to offer discounts for a while."

Hanson wasn't as easily distracted this time. He ran his hand down my leg, searching my face for signs of pain as he probed the flesh. "It doesn't hurt when I touch it?"

"We've been over this. Everything hurts." I considered it as his hands started rubbing and palpating my hairy flesh. Where his hands went, the ache actually subsided. "Keep doing whatever the hell you're doing. I think you're actually making it feel better."

"I thought so," he said with a satisfied sigh. "I think it's your slow heartbeat. You're not circulating blood as much as your body needs. Massage sometimes helped my Aunt with her circulation issues, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to see if the same thing worked for you. She said magnetic bracelets worked wonders. We should try to get you some."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you know anyone who might deliver jewelry to zombie central?"

"Smartass," he grumbled. "I just meant—"

"I know what you meant. We can look for some when we leave. We can't stay here. Other groups of survivors might come through and there's no promises they'll be understanding of my situation. You could probably convince them you're harmless, as long as you avoid letting them see how zombies ignore you. Me, however—I don't need to look in the mirror to know there's something fucked about me."

Hanson immediately tried to protest, "I haven't—"

"You haven't reacted by flinching away, but I'm not stupid. There's no way I survived being zombified without some kind of visible changes, and the bruises on my body aren't what I'm talking about. Are you going to tell me what it is or do I need to find a mirror?"

He clenched his teeth together and grimaced as he continued massaging my calves. When he said nothing, I prodded, "What's with my eyes? I can see everything clearly—too clearly. Do they look different?"

"Your pupils are big," he answered quietly. "And the color is gone, like you're blind."

"So I look like a dead fish?"

"No! That's the weird part, I guess. They're not glazed over or anything. They're kind of silvery and shiny. It'd be cool, but... uh... your eyes are bloodshot. I mean, really, really bloodshot."

"Okay. I can live with that and we might be able clear up the bloodshot part with eyedrops. Anything else?"

"You have veins."

"What?"

"Veins. Dark blue ones on the side of your face where your ear was bit. They're not bulging or anything, but they're hard to miss."

I had to think about that for a second. "I'm pretty sure blue is good. The veins in my wrists are blue. That's normal."

"Having veins visible on your face isn't normal," he gently argued. He hesitated, then amended, "Actually, I think my cousin had facial veins. She mentioned them once when I asked why she was allowed to wear makeup at thirteen."

"Great!" I exclaimed sarcastically. "All I need is some eyedrops, magnetic jewelry, and makeup. I'll be looking normal again in no time."

Hanson shot a glare at me. "No need to get snarky. I'm only trying to help."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, knowing he didn't deserve my bad attitude. "Sorry," I said. "This is a lot to take in."

"That's fine. I know it's tough. A few days ago, the enemy was the zombie virus. Today, we might as well be zombies ourselves. All I ask is you try to remember I'm in the same boat. Maybe I'm not having to deal with the side effects, but that doesn't mean I'm not as fucked as you are. We're both carriers, which make us a threat to every uninfected human out there. I've had time to think about it and think about what our next move should be, but I know you need time. I can give you three days before we'll need to pick a direction—"

"Screw that," I replied. Leaning forward, I ignored the pain rippling through me as I shut off the shower. I ran my hands over my head, pushing the water out of my hair, then turned to stare at him with an expression I hoped communicated my determination. "We should leave today."

Once I was dressed in a fresh uniform, Hanson and I relaxed on the couch as we discussed our options over a a plate of sliced apples. I assumed they'd been left behind because they were perishable. I found out with my first bite my sense of taste had improved, because the damn thing was the tastiest piece of fruit I'd ever eaten—nectar of the fucking gods.

"The way I see it, we need three plans, not just one," Hanson said as he nursed his canteen of water. I now had my own canteen thanks to the pile of gear he'd scavenged, but I left it on the low coffee table since my hands were still shaking.

"Why three?" I asked as I tried to hide the nearly orgasmic experience I was having from the simple act of eating an apple.

"Long term, midterm, and short term. Max showed me where the cell phones were locked up before he left and I charged the all the extras the last time I ran the generator. The phone grid is mostly self-sustaining, so I was able to spend most of the night doing research on how to survive the zombie apocalypse. I know most of the guides were made before it actually happened, but they brought up some good things to think about. They all agree it would be a marathon.

Right now, we're in what most people would call phase one. This is when the infection initially spreads and the government falls in the resulting chaos. So far, the government and military is actually holding strong, so there's still hope and places survivors can go, but this phase is going to be the most dangerous because people are going to be desperate to reach safety. We have two options. We can hunker down somewhere or we can use our invisibility to zombies to help people. I'm going to say right now, I want to help people. Maybe it's stupid and it'll put us at risk, but we need to get word out that not everyone who gets bitten dies."

"That's going to bring a lot of attention our way," I replied. "People are going to want to find us and turn us into lab rats."

Hanson snorted. "Good luck finding two zombies in a country full of them. But, anyway, part of the short-term plan I was developing was to stay mobile. We help people evacuate, then we're free to scavenge what we need. After we're geared up, we move to a different town and start over."

I chewed on a bite of apple, then asked, "What happens if we come across people who don't want to leave? People who want to try to survive where they are?"

"We leave them. Unlike them, we can go somewhere else. We only help the ones who want our help. But, just like everyone else, we focus on surviving. That means food, water, shelter, and a way to keep informed. Being informed is important because, eventually, phase one will end and phase two will start. Phase two is the midterm. That's when the chaos calms and zombies start falling apart because of exposure to the elements. The research I did says this can take anywhere from a few days to a few months. It depends a lot on environmental conditions, but the most important thing we need to think about is the sicknesses you can get by being around corpses. That's one of the main reasons people can't stay in cities, even if they wanted. Once the zombies start decomposing, airborne plague will be a huge problem."

"Do we know if zombies actually decay?"

"We don't and I think it's safe to assume any zombies who've recently fed on a human will last longer than those who don't. That's the reason this is a marathon. We can't assume all the dead will be dust in, say, six months. Some might manage to hibernate and then, when survivors encounters them, they could get infected and we'll have whole new wave of zombies on our hands."

"And that will happen more often in the city were people and zombies both have places they can hide. Can we get sick?" I asked. Hanson seemed to expect the question, because he was shaking his head before I finished.

"I don't think so," he replied. "I'm not a doctor, but it makes sense the zombie virus is so powerful it'd eat any other viruses we come in contact with. I'm not saying we should take risks before we know for sure, but..."

"But we might not get a choice," I concluded. "Fuck. So what do we do?"