The undead nightmare zombie felt the chill air on his scorched, desiccated skin.
Daytime was getting colder. Nighttime was always cold but he didn’t care. Cold no longer mattered. The Hunger is all that mattered now. The taste. The flesh. The undead nightmare zombie existed only to fill the drive to consume living flesh. The Hunger drove him insane, long ago.
How long ago did The Hunger become his master? He didn’t know, each day was the same as the next. He wandered in search of that scent. The smell of the crimson blood that pumped through the veins of the prey that he fed upon. Humans.
He was a human before The Hunger came. The undead nightmare zombie had brief glimpses of his old life. He recalled the sun. Standing in the warmth of the sun and being happy. He remembered a small child with golden hair and fair skin. He could not see color anymore, except red. The red of the lifeblood inside his human victims. What happened to his son? It didn’t matter. The Hunger drove him.
He could see movement at the end of the street. He was standing in the middle of the block near a tall building that had glass windows on one entire side. The undead nightmare zombie looked up and into one of the windows. He was looking at his own reflection. Hideous. Half clothed. No shoes. One side of his neck was torn away. One arm was missing from the shoulder below.
His chest had a gaping wound. A human had shot him with a shotgun. Right in the chest. He remembered. He was chasing the man, he could hear the man’s heart pounding, and smell the blood coursing through him.
The Hunger drove him mad and he jumped on the man. The man’s shotgun fired but didn’t stop the rage and ravenous desire he had.
The undead nightmare zombie had brought the man down and bit into the flesh on his neck.
The blood was hot and sprayed on his face. He didn’t do such things when he was human. Why not?
Where did The Hunger come from? His son. His son came home from school one day with a bite wound on his arm. That night, the boy went feral and attacked him. He looked down. His left arm was gone. In his rage, his son had torn it off with his teeth. The Hunger had his son too.
The undead nightmare zombie had killed his own son afterward. He had no choice. The Hunger doesn’t stop. He had to kill his own son and it drove him insane.
It didn’t matter. The Hunger had him now.
Movement. Down at the end of the street. A woman. He began running toward her.
She heard him, screamed, and started running. She was too slow and he caught her by the leg. She screamed again as he bit into her thigh. He had to feed The Hunger!
Just then, a man stepped out onto the street. The man had heard the cries of the fleeing woman. He blasted the zombie’s head off and quickly started reloading his gun.
The woman had stopped screaming. Actually, she wasn’t even crying. He looked up just as she landed on him, knocking him over and he dropped his gun.
She could see the red in his flesh and bit into his neck. The man screamed.