Zombie Apocalypse Outfit Female Novels & Stories

Feelings of dread came over her and she could feel her heart in her throat. Ally knew when she flipped the switch there would be another birthday surprise she wasn’t going to be able to handle. She flipped it anyways. Another great masterpiece painted by the late Leonardo da Vinci creeped into her mind, Last Supper, but the Rob Zombie edition. The birthday decorations where all still there. In fact, someone took great care to arrange all of the bodies in the chairs. Some were wearing party hats, other had noise makers in their mouths. Looking at the floor she saw Jeremy’s hair tousled and matted with blood. He was missing his arm, the one that sent her over the edge this morning. He wa

"That peach thing says, 'Hi, I'm sweet and romantic and would never stab you in your sleep.' The leather one says, 'I might choke you, but you'll like it.'" "It's a date, not a cage fight," Tasha replied, tugging her satin robe tighter. Debby flung her legs up dramatically and hurried toward the closet. She took out the outfit that she thought Tasha should wear. It could only be described as post-apocalyptic dominatrix couture. It was sleek black leather, had silver buckles, and sheer mesh in places Tasha didn't even know you could legally expose. "Imagine his face when you walk out dressed in this," Debby said, doing jazz hands.

I know I'm not the only one enthralled by him, the girls in the hallway giggle and murmur things as they look at him. She was wearing a loose black blouse with the logo of a rock band that I know, but I don't listen to, but it looks great on her. A pair of tight-fitting pants of the same color, only lighter with some rips at the knees, and to finish off some military boots. He looked super good. “Nice mask.” say; wanting to irritate him; passing by her. “Which mask?” He followed me with that contagious smile. “The zombie thing you looked like this morning.” I laughed because she stopped dead when I told her.

Jasper says apologetically rushing over with Marcus at his side. I glance at Marcus; momentarily distracted by his workout shorts and grey tank top, the kind that dip really low at the sides showing off every delicious muscle Goddess Morrtemis blessed him with. I fight the urge to gulp and mentally think over what I’m wearing. Got my hair in a ponytail, am wearing a black sports bra and blue, white, and black cheetah print leggings. Do I look okay? Wait, why should I care? “It’s not wrong to want to look good for our animai, Amelia. It’s only natural. Trust me you look great and I’m sure him seeing this much skin is going to make him suffer,” Zara sniggers. Her words give me some satisfactio

But as I hoped, the penny-ante grifter is propping up the bar, glass in hand, one arm operating like a pump as he knocks back cheap beer with a group of a dozen or so. The other arm is slung around the waist of a gruesome female, her eyes made up zombie-fashion. The remaining make-up job is way too pale for her face, except for the lipstick, which is black, matching the gelled spikes of hair radiating out from her head like some kind of poisoned halo. For some reason she thinks that elbow-length, black lace gloves make a good match with Doc Marten boots. And in a final salute to style, she chews gum, never actually closing her mouth to do so.

Olivia’s POV Zara grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief as I teased her about her heavy padded jacket. “What are you hiding under there?” I asked, folding my arms and raising an eyebrow. With a dramatic flourish, Zara unzipped the jacket and shrugged it off, revealing a stunning outfit that made me gasp. She wore a sleek black halter top that hugged her figure perfectly, paired with a high-waisted leather skirt that flared just enough to make her look effortlessly stylish. Her boots, knee-high and laced, added an edge to the ensemble. Zara twirled playfully, the fabric catching the light and shimmering slightly.

I remained silent at the front, with my gun raised and ready the whole time. The emergency lights in the research lab flickered on and off, and the air stank of blood and decay. Distant growls of the zombies rumbled through the halls. We were about to reach the exit when a familiar wail cut through the darkness. "Help… Please, help me!" I took a closer look and saw Esmeralda pinned against a wall by three zombies, their teeth sinking into her. Her right arm had been ripped off, blood gushing like a fountain.

Standing in front of the pile of newly unpacked down jackets, I snapped a photo of myself eating meat, with the stack of winter gear clearly visible behind me. A friend request from Delilah came through. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I accepted it. The video call came instantly. She was screaming the moment it connected. "Where the hell are you?! Where did you get all those clothes?! Get them to me right now! I’m ordering you, did you hear me?!" Her lips were purple from the cold, and her face pale. Wrapped in a thin blanket, she shivered violently inside the villa. Right in front of her, I picked up an expensive down jacket and calmly wiped the dust off my shoes with it, then

Munch… Crunch… Suddenly, a chewing sound came from around the corner. Julian was stunned and poked half his head out to look. By the elevator, a zombie in a torn Armani suit was crouched on the floor, gnawing on a corpse that had long since become unrecognizable. As if it had smelled fear coming off a living person, the suited zombie suddenly went still. It slowly turned its head. Its cloudy, pale eyes locked onto Julian. A long, dark red piece of intestine was still hanging from the corner of its torn mouth.

Once again, skip that bullshit. The humans I’m with have made camp near a lake. I’m grabbing my clothes to go bathe. I still have some of the clothes I originally left with, but definitely not as much. It’s going to be dark soon, and I don’t want to be caught alone in the dark. That never ends well. Heading to the lake, I start to strip. I’m completely naked, which doesn’t even phase me anymore. I used to be so shy about being naked out in the open, but who cares anymore about that? I sure don’t. I quickly wash the grim off as I trace the long white scar that goes from my elbow to my wrist. It’s the biggest scar I have. Most of them are small, but this fucker is not. A zombie was trying to t