Bite Me, Caleb

Summary

Three years a zombie, and I still can’t bring myself to eat people.

Most days, I just blend in. I shuffle along with the horde, moaning and groaning for show, before slipping off into some abandoned supermarket to steal a pack of stale cupcakes.

That’s what I was doing today, crouched behind a collapsed aisle of canned goods, meticulously peeling the plastic off a Twinkie.

Suddenly, the cold, hard press of a gun barrel met the back of my head.

A low voice, laced with amusement, drifted over me. “Miss Zombie, I do believe you were about to take a bite out of my ass.”