Zombie Guys Novels & Stories

They both wave as they step back into their apartment. However, Azazel doesn’t leave. Instead, he approaches me and runs his gaze across my body assessingly. “How is it that you’re alive. Hunters died out centuries ago.” I shake my head. “That’s what we wanted the supernatural world to think.” His lip quirks with amusement. “You know, I love all of the Cross brothers, but all of my quids would have been on you if you had made the decision to kick their arses. Seeing you stand up to them was quite impressive, and I can respect that.”

She patted her face to make herself more conscious. It's impossible. The eyes of the zombies are blood red, and their skin will quickly become old, dry, or decayed. The blood vessels under the skin will also turn green - of course, the blood vessels of the fourth generation of mutated zombies that have appeared in recent years are black, but no matter what, zombies cannot mutate to be the same as living people!

A gust of wind sent chills through her body, and she turned to see Mason tackling Julian to the ground; both vampires had their fangs bared, just as planned. Zander staggered drunkenly until his vision cleared. He steadied himself and reached into his jacket for his gun; cocking and aiming it at the fighting vampires. His aim constantly shifted as Mason and Julian continued to gain the upper hand on one another; and with another gust of wind, Julian had vanished.

He had never heard his father talk about this story. Now that his father has passed away, who can he ask? His father's teammates have all passed away, and if anyone is still alive, they are just gray-headed old men who don't remember who they are. Men who join the ranks of national security protection often get married very late and their wives are not young girls. That's why he was only twenty-five years old but his parents had passed away due to old age and illness. Although he knew that groups of vampire hunters were still active somewhere in the world, he always believed that they deliberately created false rumors to prey on people's fears.

“So, who do you live with then? Your mum?” “No, my mum's dead too. I live with my older brother.” I added saving him the stress of having to ask. The truth seems to be working, I just have to edit the unnecessary parts, like the fact that my brother is a vampire that is about to be crowned king of the underworld.

A pause later, I said, "There wasn't supposed to be a seventh slot, but I called in a lot of favors with the top guys, and they reluctantly gave me one. Ah, that reminds me. One of you is not going to come with us, obviously." My teammates would've roared with laughter, but they stayed as composed as their bodies and minds allowed them to. Against fully armed soldiers, Yvonne would never try to start anything funny. Trembling, she looked at her precious childhood friend. "Yves, I—" Yves didn't even wait for her to finish. He was already approaching the soldier, his face filled with an unctuous smile. "Take me. I was a famous musician before the zombie apocalypse. I'm a lot more useful than t

Yet, he dropped into a swift side roll, grabbed a steel pipe, and smashed it hard. He might have been the team's weakest link, but he was still miles better than Esmeralda. I tuned him out and focused only on mowing down the horde of zombies that kept pouring in. Noah, however, looked like a different person. He weaved through the horde with quick, precise strikes. When the last zombie dropped dead, only our ragged breathing remained in the lab. Fortunately, we had stocked up on ammunition and weapons before setting out, and we were in better shape than before. That was the only reason we made it out unscathed.

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.

My weightless body was dragged across the ruined city and down into an underground fortress. The place was brightly lit and buzzing with life. A massive party was underway, thrown to celebrate Beckett's recovery. In an apocalypse ravaged by zombie attacks, they had somehow managed to find colorful ribbons, balloons, and a massive cake. Dad stood on a platform, beaming as he raised his glass to the crowd. "A toast to our hero and the future of humanity, Beckett! We have successfully extracted a perfect antibody from his blood." The crowd erupted into deafening cheers.

The next morning, the guards and chef were already awake before I was. I had barely finished washing up when I saw them standing in the main hall waiting for me. Judging from the looks on their faces, they had already seen what was happening outside. I turned toward the street beyond the one-way glass just in time to see a swarm of grotesque zombies roaming the roads. Some still vaguely resembled humans, but most were drenched in blood, their faces twisted into horrifying shapes. A few were so badly mutilated that their organs spilled out as they ran.