Cruenta Ultionem is your typical 16 year old girl. Scratch that, she's your typical traveling zombie slayer.

In an apocalyptic world, Cruenta, her brother, and her father, are traveling, looking for a safe haven from the dead that walk the Earth. Zombies are almost everywhere, but that's not the only problem for Cruenta, animals can be infected too and most of them are attracted to the smell her blood more than any other’s. Cruenta also has 3 more brothers and a sister out there and she is determined to find them. Will she survive the zombie apocalypse?


3. Somniphobia

My father’s black, four wheel drive, crew cab truck pulled into the driveway of a seemingly abandoned house. We had been traveling for days and were looking for supplies and a safe place to sleep for a while. Zach and I slipped into the garage as my dad went to search the house. The first thing we saw was a zombie, lying bent over backwards, on the seat of a riding mower. We pulled our paintball guns out of our bags of tricks and spread out, ready to defend against the zombie... Or so we thought. It sat up when the back of my foot shoved a hammer that had been lying on the ground, but the creature was abnormally fast.

The next thought that came into my mind after that was to get out, this zombie wasn’t normal. It practically shot off the mower and towards Zach, the one who was closest to it. I moved in time to see the zombie knock Zach out. The zombie had then gone straight for my neck, leaving me no choice, but to put my arms up in defense. I was glad I had forearm guards under my sleeves. They were hockey forearm guard’s, from a sporting goods store we had gone through a while back and they kept the zombie teeth from tearing into my flesh and infecting me with the zombie virus. I pulled my other arm back, reeling in for a punch to the face. The zombie sailed away from me and I hurriedly jumped up and grabbed my Tippmann paintball gun, aiming towards the zombie. I stood in front on Zach’s unconscious form and shot.

What should have happened was the paintball hitting the zombie straight between the eyes and brain matter, congealed blood, and blue paint splattering the walls behind the monster before me. It only covered its face with paint. Ice cold fear shot through my veins at the sight. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be, I’d done this before and it had died with that single shot. I fired again. And again. I kept shooting, but nothing was killing the creature ambling towards us once again. It attacked me fiercely, leaving no room to defend my self. It tore flesh from my throat and a garbled scream left my lips. It then went for Zach.

Pain streaked through my neck, back, and arms. Wait, my back and arms? The only injuries I had were on my neck. Zach’s mangled screams reached my ears as the zombie started in on him.

I sat bolt upright in the medical gurney that I had woken in, my hand going to my throat. A scream of fear and shock ripped itself from my lungs, soon followed by a shriek of agony as I felt stitches tearing themselves free from my skin. The sound of feet pounding the floor neared as I fell back onto the bed I was lying in, my arm becoming limp by my side. Unable to move and quivering in pain, I was silent, no longer able to make a sound past the pain in my body, staring at the pure white ceiling.

Three boys rushed into the room, two of them had rifles at the ready. The other boy held a shotgun, aimed towards me. They lowered the barrels of their weapons when they saw no immediate threat in the room. The shotgun wielding one moved forward, setting the gun on a table nearby. He settled himself on the bed next to me and reached for my shoulder, pain burning through my ripped wounds as he turned me over to inspect the stitches.

Through sound of my own panting, I heard the boy, while pulling bandages away, speaking to the other two. Like cotton was in my ears, his voice was muffled and quiet.

“I need you to bring me some more bandages, antiseptic, a sedative, possibly some morphine and a suture kit, to redo the stitches in her back...” The sound of his voice was drowned out by footsteps and white noise as I drifted into the sea of unconsciousness once again.


☣  ☣  ☣  ☣  ☣


A white ceiling greeted my blurry eyes as I woke for a second time in the cold room of what seemed to be a medical wing. I sat up slowly, remembering what had happened after the nightmare. I caught flashes of black around the blank room as my eyes struggled to focus through the last traces of morphine in my system. Clear images finally seeped into my brain and I stood, the blanket falling from my body to reveal naked skin that was almost as pale white as the bandages tightly wound over my limbs and torso.

A note sat quietly on a stack of black cloth. My fingers numbly pulled it towards my face to read the fine print words.


Your clothes were torn to shreds. One of our own was kind enough to lend you some of hers. Luckily, she’s the same size. There’s also a trench coat on the door if you need it. Your boots are next to it. Come to room 463, there’s a map next to the door.   Also, you have some damn explaining to do.


I looked around the room once more, taking everything in before I started to go through the clothes on the side table next to the bed. I found everything I needed; a dark t-shirt, the sleeves of which reached my elbows, blue jeans that fit well, black socks, and functional underthings. I moved towards the door quietly, not trusting anything in this place, even though I had gone to school in this building. I pulled my knee-high boots into place and strapped it on. I reached for the ankle-length coat that would chase the goosebumps currently covering my pale skin away.

The trench coat was a very dark red, blood red, it seemed. It smelled of leather and expensive cologne. I  laughed a bit when I recognized the scent, my older brothers used to wear this all the time. The weight of leather and cloth on my shoulders was comforting.

I turned back to search the room before I left. within seconds I saw my bag and rushed across the room to retrieve it. I yanked the zipper open, relief flooding my veins as I saw that it hadn’t been searched. Ha, frickin’ idiots didn’t look through it. My busy hands eventually found everything in place. I had put on my waist holster for the air-soft, sliding it into place at my hip. Also, a dagger now waited patiently, tucked into my right boot, a sheath strapped to my leg kept it in place. Several other weapons were strapped and hidden on my person before I slung the bag of tricks to my shoulder and turned back to the only exit from the room.

A sigh escaped me as I opened the door and headed for room 463, it had been my French class freshman year.  My ears listening intently for another being, finding none. As I knew exactly where it was, I continued my path, but you’ll never guess who I bumped into in the hall.

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