“Merlin, you probably want to lose that tie. I don’t think the zombies care if you dress down.”

Merlin coughed as he pulled the tie off, his pale face flushed and smirky attitude finally in check. He dropped the ax at his feet and stripped off his jacket and oxford shirt, settling them in the bushes so they wouldn’t fall off in a strong breeze. He was down to nothing but a thin T-shirt over a light rippling of abs and his pinstriped pants. He fixed his hair back with a band.

Justice couldn’t think of the last time he’d seen someone so dressed up, certainly not for this kind of work. It was peculiar. Merlin was peculiar.

He didn’t have much time to contemplate that, though, for a horde of zombies started pouring out the front door.

Merlin spun from his place, swinging the axe with him, taking out a line of two heads before his momentum stopped and he swung his leg around to kick back another challenger. Biceps flexing, he swung the ax again, striking the neck of a gray, decayed zombie who was little more than dust, but then hit pay dirt with a fresher body that spurted blood over his face.

The blond looked like a Viking in nice pants. The thought made Justice smile, and he raised the shotgun, ready to shoot. Everywhere he took aim, Merlin was already there, cutting off heads, kicking zombies back, making short work of the undead and forcing his way in.

Justice trailed a few paces behind, but there wasn’t much left for him to do, at least not yet. Surely Merlin couldn’t keep up this pace. But then, Justice wasn’t sure how many employees there were in a dildo factory. He’d never thought about where anal plugs came from. They were just always in stores in tidy little wrappers with people trying to look alluring and like you weren’t some pervert because even hot people wanted sex toys.

Not that anyone had accused Justice of being unattractive. He was, in his own way, handsome, he supposed. The lusty looks Merlin sneaked at him weren’t uncommon. Justice was tall and broad in the right ways because he worked out, but he wasn’t overlarge since he didn’t take medications to make him so. Maybe he wasn’t as fashion-model looking as Merlin, but he never had trouble attracting people. Nor getting sex when he wanted it. 

It was just getting the right kind of sex that he wanted, even with Lewis, which was why he sometimes had to employ a dildo. Not that he should think about that now. In his reverie and self-affirmation that he was not a complete slopabottomus, Justice lost sight of Merlin. 

The only place he could’ve gone that quickly was inside. The meat-packing sounds of hits and the sickening basketball thuds told him Merlin was handling himself just fine inside. A surprising relief.

After one last look at the bright outdoors, not hearing any telltale rustle of twigs and bushes, Justice decided all the action truly was inside, and so he ducked in.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Though zombies would never be accused of particular intelligence, they somehow always managed to turn the power off when they attacked. This time, it worked to their advantage since there wasn’t creaking and movement of the factory to deal with.

As Justice’s vision adjusted, he could see the flat rows of twelve-inch, blue jelly dongs on a conveyor belt, making the rounds to various stations that were equipped with paint to add detail before being sealed in. He wondered, vaguely, what details would need to be present on a blue dong, thought unpleasantly of James Cameron movies, then slightly more favorably of Dr. Manhattan.

But again, there wasn’t time for his fantasies. Where he’d come in was a short walkway with a guardrail that ended at half a flight of stairs that would take him to the main production floor. Above were catwalks and presumably offices and supply storage. Each of the office windows was smeared with blood, meaning that each occupied office had been infiltrated. The likelihood of survivors was slim, but he and Merlin would check them out before they left.

The manufacturing floor was where all the action was. And that was divided into the production with aforementioned conveyor belts and molding stations where the cocks, plugs, or whatever was being produced that day were actually formed. There was a blood-spattered chart on the wall. Wednesday was the first day. Interesting.

The other half of the floor was dedicated to loading and shipping. The cocks were boxed up, put in cases, and there were huge garage doors to form the bays through which trucks came in to be loaded with pleasure toys that could be shipped around the world.

While Justice could appreciate the solace that only a good dildo could provide, he wasn’t sure this factory was key to survival. In fact, he could see why the zombies might’ve revolted. How insulting would it be for the male zombies to have to mass-produce something that had fallen off a week ago? Maybe creating body parts they couldn’t use themselves angered them. But then, they were dead, and Justice was fuzzy on what they could think and feel.

There was a loud clatter of metal hitting concrete. Merlin cried out. “Shit!”

“Shit!” Justice repeated, panicking because he hadn’t yet located Merlin in the fray. The direction of the sound gave him a clue that he’d made his way toward where the merchandise was being shipped, but he couldn’t see past the big stacks. Did Merlin also credit the zombies with more intelligence than everyone else? Why else would he move toward shipping containers other than a fear that maybe the angry zombies would mobilize?

Or maybe that was where they were leading him. Or maybe Justice was growing paranoid. He took slow steps down to the floor. No zombies were in sight. He could still hear hitting, which told him that Merlin was still alive, but it wasn’t as if he could cut heads off with his bare hands.

At least, he didn’t think so.

Keeping the shotgun at eye level, Justice continued to follow the sound of the beating and the occasional crash of someone or something being knocked over. He passed the conveyor belts, shadows dancing from the light streaming in from the windows on the second floor. Justice took a deep, steadying breath. He wasn’t new to this. He just needed to concentrate.

Finally he made it to the tall stack of plastic-wrapped boxes of fisting dongs that stretched out double his height. Biting his bottom lip, he inched along it with his back to the dongs, trying not to think about that time he and his boyfriend had experimented with these toys… He was sore for days. Sadly, Lewis refused to repeat the performance, claiming it was boring for him.

At the corner, Justice listened. When that wasn’t enough to understand what was going on, he quickly peeked around the edge to get the measure of what he was walking into.

One look wasn’t enough to truly understand what he’d just seen, so he darted his head around for a second time. If he understood what he saw, Merlin stood at the center of a circle of zombies. In each hand, he held one of the fifteen-inch black rubber-fist dildos. It gave him incredible reach, keeping biting teeth far from his body.

Since it appeared that Justice wasn’t in any imminent danger up close, he stepped around the corner to fully take in the scene. Merlin held each dong arm by the end, and he windmilled, smacking each black fist at the side of the head of an advancing zombie. The zombies crashed into each other, growled, attacked one another, then realized they weren’t really angry with each other and advanced again.

While the zombies sorted out their priorities, Merlin kept his fake rubber fists up like extended arms as he panted. His hair had come free from his band; his face was streaked with blood and gore. His once-pristine white shirt clung to him through sweat and flayed skin.

Justice approached slowly, trying to make enough noise that he would sound like a sentient being approaching, but not so much that Merlin would get spooked.

Merlin turned at the noise, face pinched and determined, fake arm out and ready to strike. He scanned Justice, then seemed to realize help had arrived; he dropped the arm and bent at the waist to catch his breath. “Can’t find my…ax…finish them.”

Interesting. So the rubber arms weren’t Merlin’s brilliant plan. There was a chink in the armor. There wasn’t time to savor Merlin’s misstep, however. Justice needed to finish these zombies before they attacked again.

He took aim at the zombie version of the Three Stooges all fighting each other over punches that had been delivered by Merlin. Justice only needed one shot with decent spray to disintegrate all three heads into nothing but shrapnel and blood clots.

Taking a deep breath, Justice stilled, and time seemed to expand while he waited for the zombies to line up just so. Merlin remained crouched, staying well out of the path of the bullets. Justice pulled the trigger. Decayed brains sprayed over the dingy gray wall.

“About time…you got here,” Merlin panted and brought his shirt up to his face, presumably to dab the sweat away. He didn’t quite get it to his face before he realized what was on it. “Ew.”

“Didn’t think you needed me. You didn’t wait for me to clear the area, as procedure dictates. Those are rules for a reason.” Justice set the barrel of his gun to the ground; the muzzle was still hot from the gunfire, so he leaned on the handle. “You could’ve been killed. Or worse, you could’ve put me in danger.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Merlin waved his hand in front of his face as if he could clear away all of what he said. The lack of a witty retort was Justice’s first inclination that maybe Merlin realized his error.

“Look, I know we got off to a rocky start, and maybe I should’ve been less of a jerk about being assigned a partner. You did do some amazing work in here.” Justice bent down when he spied the handle of Merlin’s ax peeking out from under one of the shelving units and slid it to him. “You know, before you lost your weapon.”

“I have my own weapons, things I prefer to use. I didn’t think I’d be sent out today. I thought they’d want to orient me or something. I thought…” Merlin picked up his axe and held it over his shoulder. Now he looked like a Viking axe murderer. That was very hot.

As if Merlin could hear his thoughts, the man lifted his chin and gave a saucy smirk. Was he flirting?

“You thought it would be a buddy-cop movie, and we’d bond and buy each other lunch?” Justice smiled and brushed the gunshot residue from his hands. “Our days aren’t like that. Not anymore. Maybe we should start our partnership over, okay? Hello, my name is Justice Kinkead, I’m your partner.”

As soon as Justice held out his hand, there was a loud clang and the roar of what sounded like a hundred angry zombies. Merlin’s silvery gaze went wide when he looked over his shoulder. “They were trying to make a break for it. They were all in the back of a truck. I knew it. Shit. Run!”

~~This series will continue in daily increments through the end of March 2026. After that, it will be once a week on Tuesdays~~