She found him cowering in the corner of thier bedroom, he hestitated too long staring at what until recently was his beloved blonde haired housewife. In his hand he held a fireplace poker. He never had a chance to poke her. Although she was a slow moving zombie she was on him like flies on dog crap, before he had a chance to defend himself.

Ironic really, considering all the times over the years he slapped her around when he was drunk. Which was all the time. Mildred had been a timid mousey stay at home mom, rarely leaving the house even before the virus’s existence. The attack, long overdo, upon her husband was mercifully quick, she devoured him like wolverines at an all you can eat buffet. She was a widow now, bouncing around the still quiet room, an odd look of peace and serenity on her once beautiful face.