hope you’ve all been having a great pride month so far!! shoutout to…the gays ✨✨✨
i love liam and wallace so much bro i want to draw them more often aaaaaa, for those who are new or less acquainted liam is a genderbent version of my oc lianna winters! i’ve been shipping him with wallace since a little before the anime came out 🩵
so i binged the scott pilgrim anime yesterday…and i freakin loved it ALOT, it wasn’t perfect but MAN did i have a good time…uhhh anyway take some gays for now🤭💗💗
You know, you’d think that during a zombie infestation, the places you’d least want to be are the extreme climates. Sweating bullets while firing off rounds at decaying flesh or swinging a chainsaw in the bitter cold while feeling their deathly smell invade your nose- it sounds like Hell, doesn’t it? But when it actually happened, those places were paradise.
The extreme heat melted flesh off dead bones and you could smell them coming from miles away. The extreme cold slowed them down and it was easy to break them apart. One good swing with an axe and a pre-teen could chop off a zombie’s head in that cold. Same goes for size of city. You think the city is the area you want to stay in, with more shelter and more gas stations, whereas shit out of luck nowhere is the last town you want to be in. Another false fact you picked up from a movie, or a book, or some other media crap. You know what bigger cities mean? Bigger populations. You know what bigger populations means? Bigger infestations. That alone makes small towns better. Once you take into consideration the fact that most cities are a lot in a small area and are full of small streets and close quarters, you pretty much have a hellhole waiting to happen. You can’t fire because you could hit someone innocent and thus create another zombie, you can’t see around the many, many corners littering streets, and it’s easy to get trapped. Little towns not only means that it’s harder for the infestation to spread from big cities, but also means it’s easier to corral the infestees and lock them away. Most small towns are spread out, with big streets and few hiding places. Plus everyone knows each other, which generally means people will trust each other in a situation like…oh…certain death unless you work as a group. Small towns are cake-walks, trust me.
When the infestation hit, people were running north and south. Canada was getting more movers in a week then New York City sees in a year. Greenland was commissioning boats to take travelers from middle Europe and suddenly everyone wanted to live in Siberia. Arizona and Texas were the most populated states within months, Colombia was getting more than drug runners, and people were moving from Germany to Turkey instead of the other way around. Apparently one group of people moved to the Arctic. I heard reports of lots of small towns, even some big cities, that easily packed away their infested in one section of town and sealed it off. They spent the zombie infestation in a pleasant daze, living as they always had. Sure, every so often a teenager would take a wrong turn after a bad kegger and end up dead and then alive again but it was taken in stride. Sure, their families grieved but families always find something to grieve about. At least their grieving had some sort of real reason. I remember seeing a funeral being held outside one Nevada town’s infested section, the family members gazing woefully through the double gates at their beloved who was trying to paw at his sister’s flesh through his side of Gate One. “Jeremy!” his mother had snapped, apparently forgetting that her son’s brain had partially dissolved by this point, “Stop trying to eat your sister!” Jeremy had looked blankly at her and then groaned. Someone had tutted. It was a good day.
Now that I’ve said all that, I’m sure you can piece together the places you did not want to be, under any circumstances. Big cities with nice climates. The cities that everyone wanted to live in before they were filled with the rotting dead. Nothing like a flood of zombies to kill the reputation of a city. So, since most of you are probably a smart group of citizens, you can guess where we ended up. Unless you’re wondering who “we” are, in which case you need to pipe down and read because I’m getting there. No skipping ahead, either. This is important stuff I’m telling you.
Sorry, normal readers. Those curious people just had to ruin it for you, didn’t they? Anyway, we ended up living in San Diego. Big city, hailed as one of the most pleasant climates in the west. Rarely gets above 70 degrees, just as rarely goes below 50, on the coast of California- sounds great, huh? Most of our lives, my family resided in Vermont. Bennington, Vermont. Small town, huge packs of snow in the winter, rarely gets above 70 degrees in the summer and the average temp is 50 something. Perfect for a zombie infestation. The graveyard didn’t have a fence, which could have been a problem, but otherwise it would have been fine. But no, we moved to San Diego my senior year of high school. Thanks, Mom and Dad. I tip my hat to you. I know you’re reading this, don’t deny it. I mean, you don’t know it’s you yet because I haven’t introduced myself yet and I’m using a pen name (a female name, to be twice as confusing), but you’ll know soon. Right. Moving along.
So, my family lived in San Diego. I went back to Vermont, to Bennington College , then came back to San Diego to employ all my job skills. Got a job as an intern at the one of the Senators’ offices and never got sexually propositioned by anyone. I actually had it pretty good. By the time I was 25 I was working full time at the office and considering moving to DC to try to get a job at the UN. My baby brother was graduating that year from high school and had applied to a bundle of good schools. We all had faith he’d get into his top choice. Dad lost his job due to the bad economy but between Mom and I, the family was doing okay. I wasn’t living at home. Life was pretty great.
Then the government decided to fuck shit up. Cool, guys, real cool. I’m still really grateful for that. You know, because instead of living in San Diego with my happy family and my friends and a fantastic career, I’m now living in the middle of the woods with no friends and no contact with my family and pretty much nothing going for me at all. Props to the G-Men and Women for that one. Man, I sound angry. Sorry, innocent readers. Spending months and months killing zombies and pretty much losing everything you cared about does that to a guy.
At which point, you curious folk speak up again. “What guy, though?” you ask, “Who is we? Who are you, if not Samantha XXXXX?” I’ll indulge you, readers. My name is Liam Winters. Hey, Mom and Dad. Yeah, you guys know who you are now. Don’t worry, I’m not mad about the moving thing. You didn’t know the possible end of the world was coming. I have a lot of anger and I’m kind of misplacing it because I don’t have anyone around to get angry at. I’m okay. I’m living alone. I’m eating mostly well. It’s a long story which I guess you’re going to read. Sorry for swearing.
“We” was my brother and I. Garrett Winters, aged 17, and Liam Winters, aged 25. Zombie killers extraordinaire.
