"Look…No matter what happens, I'll still protect you…"

" Really? You mean that?…"

" Of course I do…I mean every bit of it. I'll always be there…Just call my name."

That was the promise Liv Tremmain made to his newly wedded wife upon their special day in front of their friends and precious family as they took their first dance. Now, he regretted that promise more than any mistake he ever made in his life. Tears swelled the moment he saw the lifeless corpse's finger twitch. It was inevitable…Everyone succumbed to the "Cannibal Disease" in one way or another. Through a single scratch…A bite…And it showed no mercy when it took over a healthy human being. Liv tried his best to drown out the horrid moans, the gurgling groans, and the dead weight that was constantly thrown against the sturdy basement door that kept him safe from the flesh-eating undead who wouldn't rest until they tasted his flesh.

Safe?...Safe?

Liv scoffed at that word. " Safe…" he spat and chuckled while chocolate eyes watched as the slumped corpse across from him lurch forward. He hated that word so much…More than all of his pet peeves piled together. He was far from that word in which he tabooed. Eyes had to wander away from the corpse in front of him just to survey the area…A.K.A., his soon to be grave. To die and not have enough time to forgive the hated or say your prayers…That was something he didn't want to think about at the moment. For now, he contemplated on how much time it'd take for the basement door to win second best in a contest between it and the zombies. Yup…he'd only be a midnight snack for the undead gang unless…

His "company" got first dibs.

Eyes quickly went back to the corpse who crackled and popped its joints while it was quickly adjusting to movement that was once restricted by Rigor Mortis. The creature gurgled and gagged upon thick blood bubbles that burst as the thick crimson liquid dribbled down its half-eaten chin. Yellowed, chipped fingernails scratched against the unforgiving, cold cement floor when the "fresh" zombie began to drag itself closer to the fallen cop that was only a mere three to four feet away slumped against an old refrigerator. "Love…is a burning thing…and it makes…a fiery ring…" the cop murmured while never taking his gaze off of the undead being. He opened his mouth to sing the rest of the song but his voice cracked the moment retched, bony fingers clasped tightly onto his denim-clad ankle.

-What're you gonna do now, Liv? There's that water pipe right next to you…C'mon.-

- I can't…-

-Why not?…One crack to the skull…and it'll be over for that 'thing'…and then the others can get you.-

"SHUT UP!" Liv screamed at the tiny little voice in the back of his mind that stabbed away at his brain with a mere pin-point needle. Great, now he was going "batty" as the guys back at the station called it. He even began to find the "Cannibal Disease" fascinating, but terrifying at the same time. It always amazed Liv as to how quickly the disease could re-animate a cadaver and kill off a living being just as fast. It could be that the cadaver could be missing legs and it'd still be revived. Being scratched? It only took a few hours or even minutes to eventually take over a single, healthy human being and turn them into yet another shambling corpse.

His grip upon the SIG P229 handgun tightened, but he didn't take aim yet. Tear stained cheeks were wiped quickly as if he had to hide his "soft side" from this retched corpse. He wanted to kill this thing…put it out of its misery…Possibly beat it's cranium in with the water pipe and watch it convulse in its own pool of blood. Either that, or squeeze off a round to go right through the eye and watch the milk white contents mix in with the blood. For some reason, that made him think of a nice strawberry shortcake.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, the officer took aim for the being who began to crawl up his legs, using his denim jeans as a means of pulling it closer. His finger would squeeze the trigger. God, he was so close in killing this thing…But once again, that tiny little gremlin-like voice in the back of his head made his aim waiver.

-No Liv…You deserve every bit of this…You deserve to suffer this way. Besides, your gun is empty you fucking moron.-

"NO. It's not fucking empty!" The trigger was pulled and the slide suddenly snap back, locking into place for the young officer to stare down stupidly at the empty chamber. Empty. The gremlin was right. That empty slide could tell any other dumb shit the gun was dry of bullets. His jaw suddenly clenched and the gun was thrown against the nearest wall, having it chip away brick before clattering loudly against the cold cement. Damnit! He couldn't even kill himself even If he wanted to!

Having that privilege being taken away from him had the officer tremble as the gurgling creature grabbed onto his R.P.D issued vest and dragged itself closer towards his face. Why the fuck didn't it bite him yet? Either way, he couldn't stand the stink of death…nor how the way flaps of pale skin began to rot off the thing's face. Eyes locked onto the bloodshot pair as it soon came face to face. Amazingly, this thing still had pearly-white teeth…and it's jaw opened wide to have a taste of the red-head cop.

"...I'm so sorry…"