This was a throw-away idea I had back in November but it’s stuck with me. A story told from the point of view of a zombie assassin.
Here’s how it might begin. What do you think?
On The Job
I probably wouldn’t have gotten far in the Army, even if I’d tried it before I died. At this point, I’d be lucky if they even let me enlist. They let all sorts of colors and religions and gender orientations in these days, but Cold Pride and the Gray Coalition still haven’t made the sort of progress you’d expect.
It’s silly, of course. I mean, yes, I might feel the urge to kill someone in my barracks and eat their organs, but it’s not like I’d do it. No more than any other soldier, at least. And the brain thing is ridiculous. Hasn’t everyone seen that debunking show on The Discovery Channel where they proved that we don’t need to eat brains to survive? It got great ratings. They repeat it all the time!
Just like it would drive a living person insane to eat brain material, it would make me go crazy, too. Obviously, that’s where the mythology came from. That doesn’t mean I’m already crazy enough to try it! No, thank you. A little alcoholic’s liver or cancer-ridden lung and I won’t feel peckish again for days.
It’s like Larry always says, “It’s not like we’ve got metabolism and aging to fuel!”
Oh, Larry’s my agent. He’s not like a Hollywood guy who gets parts for actors. He’s a retired Bureau suit who gets me jobs on occasion.
I’m sorry. I’m being rude. My name’s Frank. I’ve been dead for about three years now, but don’t feel bad for me. Dying opened up this great opportunity for me. Now, I kill people for money.
It’s a living. Kind of.