this is the first in a new series of stickers by skizo fa2hq called zombie nation. this is the first character of many, there are 3 others drawn up in pencil and will be inked soon. there will be more work on each one to come.
3.19 for that please.
The stringy haired youth looks down at the counter and rummages his dirty paint covered hands deep in his threadbare pocket avoiding the bottle cap, hair ties and other object of no monetary worth. Emerging from the dirtied textile is the sounds of crumpled bills and a cascading handful of coin. Sounds of change sliding across the counter to ascertain the total so he can have some liquid fallback under the bridge, the pile become smaller on one side as the growing pile falls short of the desired 3.19. His hands fall to the counter palm down; he pauses then plunges his hands back into his pockets pulling the worthless garbage his has latched onto, looking for any remaining coin. His eyes dart to the penny tray, its naked bottom starring back with no offerings, he curses under his breath and the clerk stands there waiting for the end dues.
You got the rest of it buddy?
He doesn’t even look up, he feels a sweat strike his brow and his hands tense up as the decision plays back and forth in his mind, and as his poor choice is drawn he grabs hold of the beer and runs for the door leaving the short bill on the counter. His legs pump furiously as he bounds out the door hearing the cries from the old man fade. Half a block down his foot plants awkwardly in a pot hold and he looses his footing but not his momentum and he falls to the ground dropping the beer and abruptly looses skin meeting the friction of the asphalt and rolling into the broken glass. He pauses riddled with pain but is brought back quickly by echoing laughter. He turns back and sees the old man shaking a broom at him from the door and laughing at his fall.
The youth stands up and raises a middle finger to the air, slightly illuminated by the street light half a block down. The old man continues to laugh and shake the broom at the injured boy as a figure comes from around the corner, head down and hood up concealing their identity. His pace picks up and bolts right into the old man in the door way taking him to the ground and sliding right out of view. The store keepers legs still in the doorway but the assailants back is all the rest he can see. His hand still up in the air as the event was so quick and shocking he forgot he hand his bird still flying.
Holy crap… what the, hell?
Another figure walks out of the dark from the same direction and looks down the street where the boy stands frozen by what he witnessed, the other dark figure pauses, crouches down a little, and hisses in his direction then quickly turns and dives to the ground grabbing the exposed leg of the shop keeper and plunges his teeth deep into the meat of his lower leg. The boy quickly takes a step back and becomes even more confused not even aware of the glass shards imbedded into his forearm and palms from the fall any more. The blood starts a steady flow dripping to the ground from his wounds. Suddenly he snaps to attention and realizes his injuries as they begin to draw attention to the assailant closest to the door like blood in the water, the hideous man raises his head from the victims leg, blood smeared across his grey pitted cheek, white glistening teeth set apart as he breaths in the air like a wolf and suddenly looks more intently at the boy who has still not recovered from the shock and is still standing in an illuminated spot, visible to this monstrous cannibal.
The thing, or man, which is not acting at all human barks and runs on it hands and feet in his direction as long streams of blood and flesh fall from his mouth and swing in the turbulence of his sprint. The boy now broken from his trance by waves of fear tries to run from this breathing nightmare. Still looking at the beastly man that is gaining ground on him he turns to see where he is running, and sees two individuals step from the shadows into his path; close they reach out as he can’t slow his momentum. Like tree branches their arms stiff and strong bring him off his feet and to the ground, where he fights against the burn of his lungs and the disorientation from the impact of the two figures closing in on him, he kicks his legs pushing himself on his back away from the two dark figures now advancing on him. He pushes himself under some brush trying to find any shelter from this terror suddenly upon him. The brush scrapes and rips at his face and exposed flesh as it hides him from the two that took him off his feet, he pushes deeper into the thick of the brush and stops, his breathing slows but the pant is still loud and pounding in his ears. There is a pause, he looks around, dim lit surfaces give an outline of his surroundings, he scans and comes to figure, small but familiar. It lunges down and buries its teeth deep into his face and throat. He drowns in his blood as the child ravages him like a rabid rat and then runs off into the dark. The pain sears his nerves and he soon falls to the weight of the black that over takes him seeping the infection deep into his tissues. But his eyes open again soon, curious and confused and angry because of this abomination he has become, but he finds a way through the searing pain to appease his new hunger.
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