Vampires, Muslims And Zombies

With a swift swing of my bayonet, I cut the head off a large zombie. In mortal life, the creature had been a tall and chubby, forty-something white male, and it was still wearing the faded blue mechanic's overalls it had on when it died and reanimated after been bitten. The severed head fell on the ground, and I tossed it aside after bisecting the brain. Now it's dead for good.

Walking among the ruins of Saint Paul, Minnesota, eking out a living in a world gone mad, I can't help but wish for simpler days. Days when I could face the sun without turning into a crispy critter. Before the fucking zombies turned the whole world into hell. It's been six agonizing days since I fed.

After searching for ages, I found an old woman hiding inside what once was a neighborhood grocery store. She barricaded herself, with weapons and supplies, like they all do. I guess she was expecting zombies, but was found by something far worse. The other kind of undead. Me.

"Please let me in ma'am I'm not one of them," I said to her, pleading in my best scared voice. I could feel her eyes on me. Anyone looking at me would see a six-foot-tall, lean and dark-skinned guy in his mid twenties. I held my hands up and turned around to show her that I was unarmed. After a long pause, the old lady, whose name was Doris Winston, let me in.

"Thank you kindly ma'am," I said, and did a grand show of hugging her fiercely once she let me in. Doris was cautious, but I could see the hope in her eyes. The old lady hadn't seen a single human soul in months. Loneliness isn't something that most human beings agree with. For a vampire, solitude is something we're used to. We're not exactly the sort to seek out others of our kind for social calls. We're predators, first and foremost.

"I lost my family when the zombies broke through the warehouse where we were hiding," I said, sipping warm coffee prepared for me by Doris, and the kindly old lady listened attentively as I shared my tale of woe. To tell you the truth, I wasn't lying. My family did get mauled by the zombies, but only after they turned down my offer of immortality and eternal togetherness. I've never been the sort to take rejection well. When night fell, Doris and I went to sleep, and I did the deed. Her blood tasted sweet.

My name is Omar Suleiman, and I'm a guy with a story to share with you. The story of a vampire stuck in a world full of zombies and paranoid, paramilitary humans. I was born in the City of Saint Paul, Minnesota, in 1984, the only son of Somali immigrants Kader and Aisha Suleiman. I dropped out of the University of Minnesota in 2004, after three semesters, and spent the bulk of the next decade bouncing around.

In 2009, I met this dude named Hussein Khan, and he turned me into a vampire. Against my will. We met at a gay bar in Minneapolis and I thought this cute Arab dude was going to take me home and give me the D but he instead cursed me by transforming me into the Undead. I've been one ever since. No cure for that. Believe me, I've looked.

In the early years, back when I believed I could actually go back to being mortal, I actually looked for a cure. That's how I nearly lost my head to the lovely but maniacal Dr. Wilma Hernandez, a gorgeous Latin American lady who was doing cutting-edge work in biomedicine at the University of Minnesota in Saint Paul. Back when I was mortal, we briefly dated. For some reason, I thought Miss Smarty Pants might be able to help me. Big ass mistake, man.

"I think I can find a way to help you control your vampire urges," Dr. Wilma told me after I came to her one night, disgusted with myself for feeding off a homeless man, and sought her help. At first, the good doctor didn't believe me so I had to show her who and what I am. The doc was a bit of a Twilight fan, so I had to show her that being a vampire was nothing like what you see on TV.

First things first? I absolutely do NOT sparkle. The day I became a vampire, I was a young black guy, and I'm still black. No green translucent skin thing going on. Second of all, I don't dress like a metrosexual. I do drink blood, and I can't stand the light of the sun. The sun's rays are lethal to me. I haven't aged a day since I became a vampire, and I never will. I am a bit stronger and faster than the average man, but not by much. Oh, and I can't read minds, hypnotize people or turn into a motherfucking bat.

"You're so beautiful," Dr. Wilma said to me as we sat in her lab, while I regaled her with tales of my vampire existence. It's not as glamorous as it sounds. I sleep in attics and basements when I can, and sewers when I can't. sipping on a pack of Plasma provided by the good doctor, I felt mighty comfortable in this high-tech lab of hers.

The way Dr. Wilma was looking at me should have tipped me off, but I've always been the type of dude to do the thinking with my little head, if you catch my drift. I like sex, and I don't care if I get it from a female or a dude. I guess you can call me bisexual. I hadn't gotten laid in a while and Dr. Wilma had Nerdy Hotness written all over her. Standing five-foot-nine, curvy and lovely, with black hair, bronze skin and light brown eyes, Dr. Wilma Hernandez looked good enough to eat.

"Come to me Omar," Dr. Wilma said, gesturing with her little finger, and when I did, the pretty lady hugged me tight and kissed me full and deep. I ran my hands all over the doc's sexy, curvy body and pressed on her big, round ass. Hot damn. This Latin mama's got a booty on her! I'm a sucker for a nice ass and I don't care if it's attached to a woman or a dude. Just let me hit it!

Soon Dr. Wilma and I started doing the nasty. The sight of this sexy chick in a lab coat on her knees, sucking my long and thick dick with gusto turned on like you would not believe. "Go slow," I whispered while raking my fingers through the doc's lustrous black hair. Her pretty little head bobbed up and down as she sucked me off. Wasn't long before I came.

Next, I propped Wilma on a nearby table, yanked down her skirt, and gave her sweet-tasting yet hairy pussy a good licking. I love eating pussy, man. "That's it lick my cunt," the good doctor hissed, cussing like a common slut as I went down on her. I was most happy to oblige, for Wilma's pussy tasted real good on my tongue.

Afterwards, I bent Wilma over that same table and stuffed my dick up her pussy, loving the way her plump ass bounced as I thrust into her. Dr. Wilma was a real screamer, and I really like that in a woman. "Fuck me Papi," she squealed, and I smacked her big butt and pulled her hair while slamming into her. It was a grand old time, I swear.

Things got dicey over the next few days, for I realized that by running away from Hussein Khan, the vampire who made me, instead of seeking answers from him, there's a lot I didn't know about the vampire state. If you exchange blood with a vampire, you become one. It's not just neck bites. Dr. Wilma Hernandez and I fucked without a condom, and swapped bodily fluids, so, um, she became one of the undead. All because of me.

"I swear I'll kill you," a very angry Wilma Hernandez screamed at me. It would appear that the good doctor has been driven to madness by her transformation into one of the Undead. Grasping a scalpel, Wilma came at me and nearly decapitated me, but I managed to get away. I fled, and got the heck out of town. A few days later, the first "zombie" stories started coming out of Minnesota.

You see, Dr. Wilma Hernandez and her pals at the University of Minnesota were working on viruses, and after her debacle with me, one of those viruses got loose. The end result? People started rising from the grave, mindless drones that craved the flesh of the living. Zombies. Like me, they're undead. Unlike me, they're utterly mindless. They'll eat anything, including yours truly if I'm ever that unlucky.

A lot of people ask themselves what they were doing when they found out about the global zombie outbreak. The one that began in Minnesota, and a month later consumed all of North America, and a year later, the world itself. Me? I was in a motel, having disposed of the corpse of a middle-aged gay gentleman I picked up for sex ( and consequently relieved of his blood and money ). With warm blood in my belly, and four hundred dollars in my wallet, I felt like a king. And then the whole world went to hell.

I honestly miss the old days, when humans were everywhere and all I needed to do was lure an unsuspecting soul into a private spot for a few minutes and then I'd drain him or her of their precious blood. Those days are gone, man. The cities of North America are crawling with zombies, and humans are scarce. I cannot survive on animal blood. It doesn't nourish me. Only human blood will properly sustain me. What will I do when all the humans are gone? I honestly don't know.

In the meantime, I've got to watch out. There are other vampires out there, I can sense them. The reason why there aren't many of us bloodsuckers in the post-apocalyptic age? We're competing with zombies and with other vampires for the only viable food source left, the few humans who are still uninfected. Vampire killing vampire, vampire killing zombie, and zombie killing vampire. It's a fucked up world we live in. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if my parents had let me turn them, or if Wilma hadn't gone mad. I'm STILL in no hurry to see either of them anytime soon, though.