Wunder may have a normal life now…well, as normal as a freak of nature could have. Half zombie while her job is to hunt bloodthirsty creatures to protect the innocent. It’s the dreams that haunt her and they aren’t nightmares. Wunder dreams of a man, a man made just for her. Is he real, can he be the one she‘s yearned for?
Pete’s world is a lonely one as he wrestles with the reality of being part zombie. His hatred for the creatures that killed his parents drives him to patrol the streets and wipe them all out. His life would be stark, but for the dreams he’s been having; of a woman, so sensuous, so sexy. These alluring visions have become erotic and consuming. He feels as if he made her up to keep from going crazy. Is this life of hunting the walking dead, all there is? Or is she out there, waiting…just for him?
I might have a normal life now—well as normal of a life a freak of nature that lives in a world filled with infected people can have. Normal…as in training daily to fight and kill to stay alive as well as keep others safe. But it was a bit difficult for me growing up. No mother, abnormal genes and being raised by a single parent, my father, Lance.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s the best father a girl could ask for. I think he did an excellent job raising me. He taught me everything I know and then some. Well, with the exception of a few minor details that a father prefers not to discuss with his only daughter, you know, the ‘sex talk’.
When I was checked over just recently, the doctors determined that I could have children, just like any other woman in the world. As a result, my dad actually had one of the local female physicians give me the talk. Oh yea, that was fun! I believe I had Doc Smith blushing when I blurted out everything I knew. Which I have mostly learned from the guys at the training center and my team mates. They always speak openly and boldly of their conquests and love lives.
Then of course, there are my dreams. I’ve not told her about those though. She said I knew an awful lot for not having experience in that area. THAT made me blush and we ended that conversation right there.
My dad couldn’t look me in the eye that evening when I got home. I was smiling the entire time, knowing how awkward he felt about having to send me to someone else for the talk. I didn’t tease him or anything though, despite my constant grin. Well, I did in my mind, but I knew he would be even more uncomfortable if I did. I couldn’t do that to him. He’s had enough to deal with, just having to hold on to the secret. The secret which lives within in me. He’s kept it for so long, on top of having to continue living with the loss of his one true love and soul mate, my mother Jasmine.
There are some others beside my dad and myself, who know what I truly am, but not many. My dad had no other choice but to try and find out more about me and what to expect as I grew and developed. He wanted to be prepared in case of anything happening because of my DNA. There seems to be no other part zombies of any sort around. So, he went to a couple of his closest friends who worked in the medical field, and they ran a multitude of tests on me. Comparing me to other humans, other zombies, even a few animals (to date there’s never been an infected animal of any type).
I don’t remember much about most of it. I was way too young to hold those memories. I do recall lights, very bright ones and some smells. I now know what one particular scent was. Zombies. Boy, do those suckers stink! I think it’s my heightened senses that make it so bad. I’d describe their scent as a combination of the stink in the air which comes into a car window when driving by an old sewage plant on a very hot day, combined with a rotted corpse. The smell of death reeks!
My dad always tells me he doesn’t smell them the way I do. Not even close. He can only smell them when he’s up close and getting personal with handing them their death. One of those ‘up close and personal meet the end of my machete’ types of meetings. He’s been by my side for all of it. He still is to this day. Even every month, when I have to go renew my proof of living, he’s right there by my side.
He insists on being there in case any changes occur within me. So, I won’t have to feel alone or frightened.
All they do to process anyone for their proof of living (which everyone has to go through no less than once a month) is prick your finger to draw a bit of blood. I guess you could say it’s somewhat similar to what a diabetic would do to test their blood sugar. Except in this case, they’re checking for a different sort of abnormality within. You know, the fucked up infected kind.
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A.R. is a mother of two entertaining teen boys (as well as a lovely fawn Chihuahua, whom she considers her furry daughter.) She’s also a wife to a delightfully handsome and amazingly funny man-beast. She’s an avid reader of many genres which include (but are not limited to) erotica, paranormal, ménage, thriller, fantasy, YA, western (have to love a hot cowboy or two here and there) and some historical. She also loves to exercise, listen to music, hike, cook, dance and write.
She writes to free her mind of its constant wondering and loves the fact she can share it with readers that have the same passion for a great story.
She also loves to hear from her reader’s and chat away, so feel free to reach out to her any time.
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