Wyatt Zombies Novels & Stories

"Zaddy," That wasn't the name. Where that one had come from, he had no idea. But it was like she just emptied a tank of gasoline on his fire, and he wanted to explode. He abruptly shot up, lifting her with him in the process, like she was a feather. He plunged her back into the soft leather seat converted to bed, panting hot breaths on her face, piercing into her soul, "What did you just call me?" Taking aback, Shola clasped her palm over her mouth. Zaddy was a term she'd always used to refer to a Zayn Malik looking kind of sugar daddy; her kind of man. A man like Solano Vicenze.

--- Colt sighed tiredly as the gates of the holding facility came into view. The trek from the blue mountain pack back to base had been made excruciatingly long by the dissent by the men in the back of the lorry ever since they had left. Neither he nor the other agents riding with him had paid them much attention. It wasn’t the first time they had endured the kind of crap prisoners tried on to either make life difficult or to try and cause trouble. Then there was the fact Colt nearly thought they weren’t going to make it out of Wyoming. The truck had struggled to gather any speed initially and it had felt like someone, or something, had been holding the truck back.

"I'd never abandon you, silly! It broke my heart to see you so sad. Let's never be separated again, okay?" Everyone was floored by their sickly-sweet display. None of us had ever seen anything so absurd. "Skyla, you shouldn't have let them on the helicopter," the deputy leader muttered, his face twisted in disgust as he looked at the couple. "Those two have caused us enough trouble. Wouldn't it be better to just let the zombies have them? Besides… Has Noah ever once cared about how you felt?" I merely let out a cold chuckle. Truth be told, I had intended to make the two of them turn on each other and become zombie fodder. But now… I realized my work wasn't done.

The door didn’t have a lock so he used a chair to hold it so that no one would be able to come in. After the door had been locked, he gave a signal to Hillary who then reached into her pocket and brought out a bottle of sleeping gas they had bought earlier. She unclogged it and threw it on the floor. The gas then began to seep out very quickly and within a matter of seconds the whole room was filled with fog and all the human gangsters lay on the floor, unconscious. The vampires, who remained standing, were unaffected by the sleeping gas. “Let’s start before anyone comes here. We don’t want to have to erase the memory of the whole village,” Dana said as she picked up one of the men.

I lit a cigarette and leaned out the window, shouting down to the street, "How does it feel, Uncle Garrett? It's more exciting than the foot massage parlor in Brimstone, isn't it?" "Exciting my ass! Flint Wayne, you shameless little bast—ahhh!" Even now, Garrett's mouth was hopelessly filthy. I immediately jammed the descend button again and dropped the terrified Garrett back down like a human yo-yo, bouncing just above the heads of the zombie horde.

In an instant, the anger transformed Wyatt into his formidable wolf form. "Dimitry," Wyatt muttered, his eyes glowering down at the lifeless body. Zain contemplated slithering away, but Wyatt's swift movement caught him, his grip tight and unyielding. The air crackled with tension as Wyatt unleashed a series of punches on Zain. Each blow echoed with the anger Wyatt felt, a manifestation of the loss he had just suffered. Amid the physical barrage, Wyatt's thoughts oscillated between grief for Dimitry and a burning desire to uncover Hazel's whereabouts.

he asked stepping forward. "I've never been better. Would you like buffalo for breakfast?" I brought the animal from behind me to show to him and smiled. "Zara, what's wrong with you?" he asked looking .... concerned? Meh, I don't care for his concern. Wyatt's POV I looked into the eyes of my mate and they didn't look hers. It was like she was not Zara. I looked at the buffalo that she killed. It looked dreadfully dead. "Well, no shit Sherlock," August, my wolf glared.

"Why is it so loud this early..." His voice was cut off. On the screen back in the bunker, Julian's pupils widened. He froze as if someone had cast a curse on him. The once-bustling downtown streets had become a hellscape. Burning vehicle wrecks were everywhere. Torn flesh and innards littered the ground, and hundreds, maybe thousands, of bloodstained zombies staggered through the streets. One zombie lay sprawled on the hood of a sedan, greedily gnawing on a human leg.

“The scary people who ate that guy’s face last night… They’re the ones spreading this disease. Somehow it got into the water, or something, but they’re also wandering the town, biting people, and people who get bit, turn into them… Zombies, Rhett is calling them. Do not leave the house or let anyone in unless you’re sure they’re… Well, just be really careful, please. But don’t hurt them… they’re victims too. Long story.” “Zombies,” Lauren’s face was pale. “Jessica…” “She should be safe from them,” Aislen told her hastily. “Because she’s werewolf. Apparently supernaturals taste bad. I’m not sure about witches, though, as you’re a bit closer to human.” “That’s a matter of perspective,” Anne co

Screams tore through the B2 level. Martha and I bolted for the stairs. Marcus stumbled behind. The smell of blood hit us like a wall. In the makeshift chapel, Sister Catherine was on her knees before the cross. A bloody hole gaped in her neck. A zombie was hunched over her, greedily tearing at her flesh. It had crawled in through an air vent. “Oh God…” Marcus retched. I grabbed a nearby iron chalice and slammed it into the zombie’s head.