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Word count: 33,923

Went back to pad out the first emergence of Zach from his apartment. Realized that I couldn’t exactly have him go back later to take out Tim Stimph (something I was committed to, certainly, not only because Zach wrote earlier that he did it, and also because of my strong desire to write a Tim Stimph death scene) so between coming to as a zombie and taking the walk up north to meet the Zombie Hunter, Tim Stimph Must Die.

“Brains.” Indeed. Now, should we go find someone to eat?

An idea formed in my head. I was like Dexter. I could go around eating the brains of every asshole that ever did me wrong. No, that’s no good. That’s just a mad dash for revenge. I could go around eating the brains of every asshole that ever did the world wrong. I could be a force of justice. I could be the flaming sword of God’s archangel Gabriel. Right? He was the one that dished out vengeance? I had no idea. It didn’t matter. I had purpose and focus, for the first time in my life. Turning into a Z might have been the best damn thing to ever happen to me.

“Brains.” I’ve been trying to tell you that. Now, who’s first?

I hadn’t a clue where to start. “I bet all the bad guys are already dead or zombified anyway, huh? Probably not a whole lot of serial killers left in the world.”

“Brains.” Just pretend the next living person you see is a serial killer.

“Hah, Westy, it doesn’t work like that. But, you’re my dark passenger. It’s your job to make me kill and my job to focus that into something productive. So, ok. How do we find someone who deserves to die?”

“Brains.” Next person you see. Doesn’t matter if they ‘deserve’ to die or not. Everyone deserves to die. And you deserve to eat.

Westy was good at his job. It was going to be tough to resist that urge to feed. It was pressing in my mind, harder and harder the longer I went without eating. Had to be like Dexter. Find a deserving victim. Find someone who didn’t care about human life, didn’t care about who he hurt, didn’t care about…. I had it.

“Who’s the one person we know of that obviously just doesn’t give a shit about how he affects the rest of the world? Doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions? Goes around just sneezing on people without even apologizing?” I cried out. It was like the Shaft theme song, but far less funky and not about the coolest guy to ever grace the silver screen. Who was it about? It was about “Motherfucking Tim Stimph! That’s who!”

“Brains?” Who?

“Oh you’ll just love this, Westy,” I said with a grin. “He’s the guy who brought you into my life!”

What better way to start my rampage of justice, my righteous murder spree, my saccage tuent-fou as the French say than by taking out the bastard who turned me into this monster in the first place?

“Brains.” It’s been three years. A lot has happened. You won’t find him. Let’s just go get the next person we see. Enough of this nonsense.

“I know you’re just doing your job. I respect the division of labor here, I really do. You’re trying to get me going. And I don’t know why I’m resisting. From what I can tell, I should be just another mindless, killing, eating machine. Hell, that’s pretty much what I was before Stimph sneezed on me. Minus the killing part. I think.”

“Brains.” You’re making things too complicated. Why not just let go? Relax? Everything can be so easy if you just stop struggling.

“Yeah, that’s what they always say about everything. Resisting just makes it worse. Just go towards the light. Everything will be fine. You know what? I’m done with that. I’ve been doing that my whole life, and now that I’m technically dead, it’s time I took a stand. It’s time I made things right. It’s time I killed the prick that made me turn into a zombie!”

“Brains.” Whatever. As long as there’s some killing involved.