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Submitted on
February 10, 2013
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213 (1 today)
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daydream by undead-medic daydream by undead-medic
(writing by ~Snapcat456)

“How are you feeling today, hun?” Henry asked, holding the dead rabbit out in one gloved hand.
He had cleared an area in his attic for the love of his life. Xavier Friedrichs had always liked sitting up here so this is where he thought he would put him. With the apocalypse happening and all, and the dead coming back to life, it was probably the safest place in the house. The sound of chains scraping together clanked through the area.
“Don’t hurt yourself, Xavier.”
A Traber, collar locked around its rotting neck and whole body struggling against the chain that bound it to the wall like a dog, stood with its arms outstretched. It strained with all his gurgling might to try to take hold of the rabbit that Henry held in his hand, and beyond that Henry himself. Its stiffened fingers grabbed listlessly at the air as a slew of growling noises came from its decaying throat. At one point, the little Traber, just a little over five and a half feet, in front of Henry was a boy of barely 22 who liked to fix things with him and slept on Buck Rogers sheets.
Now the eyes had glazed over, patches of his skin had fallen away across his face. The lips curled back against yellowed and missing teeth like that of an Andean mummy. The grunts and groans that came from it were like an animal’s.
“I brought you dinner, you think you could eat?” Henry asked with adoration, “I know you like rabbit, hun.” Without so much as a bat of his eye, Henry stepped forward and offered the hare carcass to the Traber.
With the vigor of a ravenous wolf, the undead boy fell upon it with starving fervor. There was suddenly blood blossoming across the Traber’s chin as it shredded the rabbit limb from limb so it could eat.
“You don’t look well at all again, Xavier,” Henry stood there with his hands on his hips, one foot tapping as his mouth pulled to the side in concern. “You’re all stressed out lately. You think you need another day off?”
The feasting zombie paid the man talking to him no heed; low grunting noises echoed from Friedrichs as if in sheer joy pulled loose the chunks of meat.
Henry frowned even more, “You sure?”
Still nothing from the half rotted, little man hunched over in front of him.
The older man sighed and gently reached to run his hand through the brittle strands of Friedrichs’ hair. “You keep eating, hun, I’ll go call in to work for you.” With that he turned and left the room, pad-locking the door behind him.

* * * *
The smell of decaying flesh never really left the living room, but as one grows accustomed to seeing a dead body propped up in one of their high back chairs, such does one grow used to the smell. The poor body had never been put in the ground after a bullet had been put through his head, the black, dried out old blood left long marks down its face and onto its shirt just like the day they had died. The red splattered against the front of his opened shirt onto his wife beater underneath it. The legs were propped limply up in some semblance of sitting. Nothing could be done about the head; it flopped listlessly to the side, the holes where the eyes had fallen back into his head were a new addition.
Henry bounded down the stairs two at a time, leaping over a sleeping cat on one of them with a thud. He quickly threw off his gloves onto the second chair in the room with the sound like a wet fish hitting concrete.
“Don’t move Hector.” He called out, “I’m just calling in for Xavier, he’s under the weather again, Coffee’ll be coming right up.”
The tattooed man bounded into the kitchen with heavy footfalls going for the phone. It was a red phone with stains of grease on it from years upon years of him working on car parts and getting calls from work mid-project. He hung half way through the kitchen door, leaning lazily on the frame as he wrapped the cord around him like he always did. Henry put the receiver to his ear.
There wasn’t a ring tone; it’d be months since he had heard the familiar robotic hum.
“Hello!” Henry chortled after a few minutes of silence, “Oh Yes, Its Henry St. James. Mmhm. Yep. I’m just calling about Xavier Friedrichs.” He tapped the toe of his shoe against the door frame, he twirled the cord around his fingers. “He’s not feeling too hot again. Yep. Yes, ma’am. No, I think it’d be best for him to just take a sick leave until he gets better. Oh really? That’s fantastic. And you’ll send the paper work right over? That’s great. Yep, thank you. Yep, thank you again, ma’am.”
With that Henry hung up. The clang of the phone on the receiver reverberated around the empty room.
“Hector?” Henry called, peeking around toward the chair with the dead body, “Coffee’s coming right up. You think Xavier’s well enough to come down and join us?”
“You’re wrong, old man! He is very well behaved. I bet you ten bucks that when he comes down here he’ll be as god as gold.” Henry stormed up to his chair defiantly, glaring at the corpse in the other seat and hurriedly put his gloves back on. “You’ll see, ten bucks.”


So yeah. After his best friend Hector was bitten and turned, Henry was forced to put him down. But when the same thing happened to his partner Xavier, he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. And... well, Henry being Henry (and having done plenty of experimentation with psychotropic drugs in the past), in his mind the whole situation became twisted into a delusion of everything being normal and alright. What he sees is much, much different from what's really there.

From a RP with ~Snapcat456 in which the zombie apocalypse takes place in the 1960's and the zombies (aka Trabers, after the scientist who discovered the zombie virus before accidentally unleashing it), have higher cognitive abilities and adapt to survive, learning how to hunt methodically and making them much more dangerous than just shuffling lamebrains.

Photoshop 7
Wacom Intuos 3 tablet

Xavier Friedrichs (c) ~Snapcat456
Henry St. James and Hector Ericsson (c) ~deathtoll1912
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wingstopboy Feb 11, 2013  Student General Artist
I really like the atmosphere of the piece but given the title I can't get the Monkees out of my head :XD:
undead-medic Feb 11, 2013   General Artist
kekeke ;D!
Geistlicher Feb 11, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Now that I'm more coherant and awake I can thank you properly with a KSDHGLKSUHGLK LKSDJHGLKJSHGLKJSHG

This is beautiful, oh my god! This is also seriously the saddest just cause he doesnt want to accept it and OUCH my feels this early in the morning ;n;!

(now go to sleep, I see your time stamps on your uploads XP)
undead-medic Feb 11, 2013   General Artist
I'M GLAD YOU LIKE 8UUUUU and yes omg my feels were dying the whole time especially since I was working on it during TWD last night XD
Geistlicher Feb 11, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
It hurts lots fff
Hahaha awesome. Just finished liking/favoriting/equivalent this on Tumblr. Kinda reminds me of the last stage in Dishonored. Minus them coming back as zombies, though. hehe

I like the more sepia-toned, old-timey stuff you've been doing like this. Keep it up! I loves it :3
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