Epilogue

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It's been at least ten years since I last saw a zombie. Society hasn't exactly returned to normal, but it's making progress.
Old city halls and public libraries are being turned into makeshift hospitals with vegetable gardens and therapists for anyone who needs to get help for the horrors they've experienced.

Mass graves were dug for those who had died during the apocalypse or those who died as a result of it. Memorials were set up in the new town centres for the dead whose bodies were not found. I made sure to carve one for Craig and I visit it every day, leaving him a fresh bouquet of flowers I grow myself in a sunny spot next to an old cinema which is now my new home.

Cemeteries from before were dug up. Coffins were turned into scrap wood and used for construction. Bodies were either burned upon removal or put on the mass graves to be burned later on. There's no room for the insane amount of corpses anymore. It was a group decision to remove them all and we even had joint funerals before each burial to pay our respects.

The semetaries were then turned into schools for children born during the past fifteen years. I volunteer my time as a part time teacher, teaching children how to hunt, make weapons and, most importantly, support one another.
The children love having the freedom to express themselves both physically and creatively. the teenagers are covered in meaningful stick and poke tattoos and , the younger children have wonky self-done haircuts, and those in between have begun experimenting with designing their own clothes. The designing skill comes in handy when they're creating their own weapons, the children are so creative and are making things I'd never even think of.

A lot of children don't have parents, so they live in the random city buildings in groups with older survivors. Henrietta has a small goth army in a nearby repurposed mosque and she's teaching them all how to write dark poetry in the style of Poe.

Any zombies caught roaming around are killed on the spot by a specially chosen team called CUNT : Collective Unit of Notorious Terminators. They preserve bullets and avoid affecting anyone with ptsd by using handcrafted bows and arrows or, if they're feeling brave enough, go for a hands-on attack with knives or blunt objects like shovels or bats. The bodies are then burned in a location far away from the towns.

Plague zombies are dealt with differently. We aren't as affected by them anymore because of the Crystal White Vaccine but they're still a threat to anyone who isn't old enough to the vaccine. These fuckers are lead to the Crystal White laboratory, where they are handled by scientists in hazmat suits who are trained to pluck the red scabs from the bodies, collect the virus filled pus that is used to create the vaccine as it leaks from the wound and then take out the creature with a quick stab to the skull.

I haven't even seen a zombie in years. I wonder if there are any these days. The CUNTs still roam around sometimes to check for any threats or see how other developing cities are doing. South Park 2.0 is currently negotiating trading crops with Little ShiTiPaTown for their meat as a vegan diet is quite boring now. It's good for the environment but now that people have a way of getting meat without damaging the animal levels, there's no harm in having a little every now and then.

A pair of arms wrap around my shoulders and a kiss is planted on the back of my neck. As she giggles into my hair, I close my book and put the lid back on my pen.

"Morning, baby," Karen whispers, "what're you doing?"

"I'm working on my school project for the children." I explain, flipping over the note book to show her the cover.

"Interesting."

"I'm teaching the younger kids how to read whilst also teaching them about how we've come so far as a society after the apocalypse."

Karen unwraps herself from me and sits on my desk. She gently picks up my notebook and flicks through the pages.

"You made a spelling mistake." She points to the page, "it's cemetery with a c, not an s."

"Shit." I take the book from her hands and scratch the word out and replace it with the correct one, "thanks honey."

"No problem."

She plants a kiss on my cheek and jumps off the desk. Sleepily, she flops onto our bed and rolls around until she's completely cocooned in our blanket.

"Trish, come back to sleep. You've been writing all morning."

"I have an early class in the middle of town." I remind her.

"It's still dark outside." She pouts.

"I know, I just need to finish this essay."

"You've got your whole life ahead of you. Why do you write like you're running out of time?"

Sighing, I put the notebook down and crawl into bed next to her. Her face lights up and a small blush appears on her evenly freckled cheeks.
She shuffles closer to me and lifts her arm do some of the blanket falls on top of me.

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

"A lot better, thank you." She tiredly rubs her eyes, "the medicine you brought helped a lot."

"I was so scared. I really thought it was the en-"

Karen interrupts me by placing a finger on my lips. With a half smile, she leans in and kisses me softly, stopping me from protesting. I loosen up and wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer. One of her hands snakes into my pants whilst the other tangles its fingers into my short hair, and she smiles into our kiss.

Letting out a soft moan onto her lips, I hold her hips and roll over so she's on top of me, making our blanket look like a tent as it clings onto her back. Karen giggles as her hair falls over one shoulder, tickling my face.
I feel her knees shift to the sides and a second later, she's pushing my legs apart. A heavy breath slips out as she trails her fingers along my thigh, hardly touching but enough to send a delightful shiver down my spine.

"I love you." I whisper.

I reach up and unbutton Karen's shirt - well, it's one of my shirts but she stole it - and throw it off the bed. Running my hands down her body, feeling her scars, I try to keep my lips shut and as quiet as I can as she slides a finger inside and starts sucking gently at my neck.
I always thought I'd be a top, but Karen turns my heart to mush and my knees to jelly. There's no way I'd be able to top her. But, no matter what Henrietta thinks, I'm no pillow princess. I treat my girl right.

Right as she starts building up a delightful pace, there's a knock at the door.

"Shit!"

Karen falls off the bed, taking the blanket with her. She covers her chest with it and runs over to the door while I quickly pull my pants up.

Stood at the door is Tweek, holding his crutch in one hand and a barrel of carrots in the other.

"Hey guys." he grins, not noticing the suspicious blush on our faces, "I was just about to go and see craig. You wanna come?"

"We're good, thanks. Trish was just showing me her notebook." Karen says, trying to hide the smile that always pulls at her lips when she lies.

"Ah okay. I'll see you guys later then."

Once he's halfway down the hallway, Karen closes the door and the blanket drops. God she's gorgeous.

I've seen a lot of blood, death and shit a teenage girl should never see in her life but, despite all that, there's nowhere I'd rather be but here with Karen."

"Come here, you." I smile, patting the space on the bed next to me.

Love Bites ~ Craig of the Dead au ~ Tricia x Karen fan fiction [COMPLETE]Where stories live. Discover now