Prompt from Writing Prompts That Don’t Suck.
Lunch With A Side Of Doom
There’s a guy to the right of me with half his head blown off. His left arm is twisted at an unusual angle beneath him and his legs are splayed out, jeans full of rips that look like teeth marks.
“This looks like a good spot.” Angela bends over with the blanket, and I can’t help but admire her perfect heart-shaped ass. Yoga pants were the best invention ever. Next to the C-Serum, of course.
“Really?” My voice is dubious as I kick aside a gnarled leg clad in tattered scraps of fishnet stockings.
“It’s a patch of clean grass, don’t be so picky.” She kneels on the blanket and sets the picnic basket in front of her, taking a peek inside. I flop down onto the blanket, and curl my arms behind my head.
“It’s paradise, baby.” I turn my head towards a grunting noise and notice two deaders playing tug of war with what looks like a squirrel. Enough of the human race must have gotten themselves the shot if the sick ones are going after animals now.
Angela pulls out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. My sweet little tart of a wife, with her strawberry pigtails. She adjusts the black rimmed glasses on her nose and pours us each a glass. It was nice to be able to spend so much time together. Before the apocalypse, she spent all her time at the University, working away with her egghead research colleagues, sometimes putting in twelve to fourteen hours a day. She’s never seemed so relaxed and happy as she is now, and I’m willing to bet it’s because she finally has some time off.
“So, my love, what shall we do today?” After handing me a glass, she produces a plastic container full of delectable looking meats and cheeses. Oh yeah, prosciutto, my favourite. I start mowing down.
“We could check out the community centre.” I suggest through a mouthful of cheese. “See if the hot tubs are clean and running.”
“Mmm, that’s a nice idea.” Angela leans on her hand, facing me, her perfect curves a silhouette in the morning sun. I hear new grunts and turn to see three more zombies staggering around a bike rack at the edge of the park. I wonder how long it takes for the things to die. Or if they actually die. They eat living flesh, but will they starve if they don’t? “Drink up, sweetie.” She clinks her glass against mine and I down it in one gulp to wash down the salty remnants of my snack.
More grunts. Jesus, did we pick dead guy park, or what? There are at least six or seven now, stumbling around the street and into the park. Tripping over bodies, slowly getting back up. Must be the squirrels.
I hear a buzz from the picnic basket. Must be Angela’s phone. “Wait a minute.” I say out loud, taken aback. “How is your phone working?” The phones haven’t been working for a week, since, you know, humanity as we knew it came to an end. She looks slightly guilty.
“Shit, sorry baby, I thought I had more time.” She stands up and brushes off that perfect ass before pulling a small black device from the basket. She glances at the screen with a wry smile. She reaches into the basket again, and before I can even react, she’s produced a syringe and slammed it into my thigh.
“Ow, what the fuck?!” I’m gawking at her dainty little hand in disbelief, even as I feel her lips on my forehead. She stands up and my legs won’t move. They’re like lead. Whatever she hit me with has completely immobilized my lower half. “What the hell is this?!”
“My ride is on it’s way, baby. The C-Serum was only for the best and brightest.” She’s stepping back as she talks, and the grunts are getting louder. “I volunteered you for testing it in our district to make sure it would work.”
“What are you saying?” My head swims with the information, and I’m afraid to turn my head.
“I’m saying my dumb jock bro of a husband isn’t allowed to come to Washington with the rest of us that actually have some use for the future.” Her shoulders are straight, her pouty lips curling, her eyes excited. This is why the bitch has been so happy. “The zombie virus was the quickest way to cleanse the planet of the laziest and dumbest of humanity. The rest of us get to rebuild a new world, baby. And you helped us pave the way. You should be proud of yourself. You did a great job.”
“Don’t leave me here.” I have the sinking feeling that the zombies have my scent. “What did you give me?”
“The paralytic is to keep you down. The cocktail in your champagne glass nullifies the effects of the C-Serum in your blood. You’ll be one of the last fresh meals these guys will ever get.” She gives me a sultry little wave before turning her back on me.
“You bitch!” I cry, and finally have the guts to turn my head to look behind me. There have to be at least fifty zombies, the closest about five feet away, closing in… “Fuck you!”
“In another life, dearest husband!” Angela calls back to me.
I hear the sound of a helicopter in the distance a split second before teeth sink into my ear and it’s torn from my head.