Excerpt from Timothy: Sliced, Diced, and Cubed by Mark Tufo.
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I was a zombie for … what, a week, ten days maybe? I was at a little brat’s party doing my double shift as Spangles the clown when one of the filthy little animals bit me. Well, I showed him, put an imprint of his fucking body in the drywall on the other side of the room. If I’d known the little puke was a zombie, I would have caved his skull in, although it was already too late for me; he’d broken skin on my calf. I went home to where my one-night stand, Gina, was trying to get into my apartment to get her purse. I had such a splitting headache I wanted to crush her head in as well every time she opened her suck hole. Ended up fucking her so she’d shut up. Then, in the midst of the dirty deed, I just decided that eating her would heighten the experience. Who would have thought combining two of my favorite things would lead to such bliss.
I finished getting off and finished her off before passing out. When I awoke, it was to discover that I was no longer the master of my own destiny. I could not so much as blink an eye. More trapped than some of my dates in my apartment when they realized I wasn’t letting them leave until they took care of my needs. When my dad came into the apartment, the zombie portion of me did what zombie portions do. He ate him. My only regret up to this point was that I was not the one able to do it. Hugh (I named the zombie invader) had done it because that’s what he does. I would have done it because I would have relished it. My dad was a Grade A asshole. He may have been my favorite meal, reminded me of my youth. Then I did what any good zombie would. I terrorized, ate, and pillaged some more. I probably would have raped as well, but somewhere along the way, I’d got shot in my junk and it had blackened and fallen off. The human male part of me should have been more distraught about that, but the zombie half didn’t give a shit—I mean, as long as I got to eat, that was all that ever mattered. I went to war with Hugh. I sort of won; he’d probably call it a stalemate if he knew what that meant. Besides, all he was good for was eating and getting us shot.
A zombie was inside of me and at the controls. I wrested the helm away but I was no longer running a human; I was the zombie Hugh had turned me into. I could have felt sorry for myself, but that’s not my style. I like to make all the pukes around me feel sorry for ever having to know me. At 6’5”, 280 pounds, I was used to imposing my will upon others, or at the very least, intimidating them until they were ready to piss themselves. Especially when some little twat-man was on a date with his woman. I loved emasculating them to the point where they wouldn’t be able to get a hard-on for a week. Oh, they’d play hard ball for a few seconds, but that would change when I came up on them, chest to chin so to speak. Ah good times, good times. Sorry, digressing; a lot of shit has happened to me in a short amount of time, and sometimes it’s difficult to sort through it all. I’d never been much of a thinker, more of a doer, and even then I would only do the bare minimum to get by.
I ran around those first few days just getting to know what my better-than-human body could do. Hugh could fix just about anything, except our—I mean my—dick. He thought it an extraneous piece of machinery and would not divert any resources to its repair. Thinking back, maybe I should have lobbied more for that, but what did I give a shit? Eating people was my new orgasmic experience. I didn’t think anything could beat the feeling of tearing into warm, still-moving meat. Nothing could have been any more fulfilling. Funny how much of my time, money, and resources had been devoted to screwing women, never once with the thought that eating them would be better than eating with them. Live and learn, I suppose.
Life or, I guess, undead existence had been great; that was right up until some bitch shot me, and for no good goddamn reason. Who the fuck just shoots a man in cold blood? I’ll find her someday, of that I’m sure, and when I do … oh boy, I’m going to take my time with that one. Maybe ripping a few bites from her each day then patching her up so we can do it again and again. Yeah, that’s one bitch that is going to regret the day she was ever born.
Jay Wilburn lives with his wife and two sons in Conway, South Carolina near the Atlantic coast of the southern United States. He has a Masters Degree in education and he taught public school for sixteen years before becoming a full time writer. He is the author of many short stories including work in Best Horror of the Year volume 5, Zombies More Recent Dead, Shadows Over Mainstreet, and Truth or Dare. He is the author of the Dead Song Legend Dodecology and the music of the five song soundtrack recorded as if by the characters within the world of the novel The Sound May Suffer. He also wrote the novels Loose Ends and Time Eaters. He is one of the four authors behind the Hellmouth trilogy. He cowrote The Enemy Held Near with Armand Rosamilia. Jay Wilburn is a regular columnist with Dark Moon Digest. Follow his many dark thoughts on Twitter, Instagram, and Periscope as @AmongTheZombies, his Facebook author page, and at JayWilburn.com