If you're going to call me anything, call me Rogers, else I'll hit you with my shovel.
Some people think I had a troubled childhood. Some people are dead.
Don't get me wrong though, I never killed anybody. That's not to say I didn't get my revenge on the people who thought they could get away with insulting my integrity. Once the nuclear winds started infecting people, their deaths marked my chance. And what did I do?
I defiled their graves.
You're thinking 'gross!' already, aren't you? Well screw you. Screw you like all those pretty corpses.
That's right. I dig them up. I pull them out of their coffins, and I do whatever I please to them. They're dead, what do they care?
You're probably curious about the nuclear winds and the infection that killed them all now. Well I'll tell you. And this is gonna be from a layman's point of view.
A couple scientists were messing with a dangerous chemical released by a dangerous plant, and it got into the wrong hands. It turns out the spores released by the plant cause almost immediate death. Whether it was inhaled, touched, or ingested, the guys who were exposed to it all died, when they started dropping chemical bombs all over the country.
Oh but that isn't the end of it, some people were immune to the spores, like me, but a lot of others weren't so lucky. Their bodies were taken hostage by the spores, which consumed their tissues as it took over their motor functions. They were literally walking corpses. They have giant radioactive mushrooms growing out of their orifices, releasing more spores, as the species tries to conquer us.
And you know whose corrupt hands started it? Our president.
There are lots of graves around, as you can guess. Lots of recently dead girls to admire. I would be waist-deep in a Rin Ramirez's grave right now if I hadn't stumbled across a rare live one yesterday.
Her grave was beside Rin's, and it was shallow, as if she had been hastily buried, or that the congregation was scared off by zombies before they could finish the job.
'Scared the life out of me when I unearthed her and she inhaled like she'd never breathed before.
I hadn't been spoken directly to in months before she asked me who I was and how she got to the cemetery. It kind of sucked that she was breathing, but I got over it fast. She had a nice voice, and perhaps I needed some company after several months of being alone.
She told me her name was June. She was my age, previously married, now a widow. Rin was her wife. She was still upset about it, and piecing things together. I don't blame her. If I had lost my spouse suddenly, then was dug up by a necrophiliac, I'd be broken too.
She should be grateful though. If I had left her there, suffocation would have gotten her. Then the worms. Then I definitely wouldn't have dug her up.
I like them to be somewhat fresh.
I suppose I could get used to this freshness: the freshness of a newly alive girl.
I've lived here all my life.
Recently I found refuge in a hearse, which of course I stole. Most funeral homes have been abandoned and all their stuff is up for grabs anyway.
Before now, I was living in an old beat up truck, which I also stole.
I live in the great state of Georgia, where you can be soapbox preached at around every corner. We're so southern-fried, our county is called Chicken Wing. I live in Specter, smack dab in the middle of the state. I am one of the only white people here. The black and Latin people outnumber us greatly. In fact, before he was killed 'mysteriously', our governor was a black war hero.
His name was Dean Kennedy, no relation to the former president. Governor Kennedy was the major rival of our current president, the supposedly corrupt Bobby P "Picketfence" Johnson. Apparently it was Picket's idea to actually murder all the competition, and when he got the plant, that's what he did. Either the competitors mysteriously died or dropped out of the race. The other runners close enough in views with Picket joined him.
Picket currently resides in North Dakota where he's hiding in a supposed armored house. I've heard Kennedy's daughter is starting a rebellion. I've thought of joining, but I probably won't 'til I can get rid of June, or 'til I can get a nice amount of notches in my bedpost if you know what I mean.
Perhaps while I'm busy with the living, I can crash at her house.
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