Danielle, 30

This. Plan. Was. Perfect.
As soon as the first signs started, I knew exactly what was going on (thank you Philip and Paul, wherever you are right now) and I sent out feelers, risked my job and actually got a response. Skeptical at first, but, for whatever reason, not as skeptical as one would have thought.
*sigh*
Shame on me for not thinking that he was so accepting because he was out of his fucking mind. I mean, I knew he was out of his fucking mind, but not this far out. This asshole hasn't had contact with his mind since...shit, looking over recent events, ever! I have no idea. I really wish I had realized this sooner, but, I'll admit, I was star struck xmax. Ted Nugent! Come on, it was awesome!
That first meeting in the city before they shut everything down was amazing. A little weird, but in the way meeting any rock legend who isn't really...normal...would be weird. I was still kind of vacillating on the whole plan, wondering if the military would actually be able to handle this and just toughing it out with Phil and Paul in LIC since they were the most zombie savvy people I knew, but then two things happened: first, I envisioned Phil and Paul dead by my hand from over quoting Prince lyrics or personal jokes from eighth grade or something and, second, Ted gave me five pounds of venison...that he had killed himself...with his bare hands. That sealed the deal. I mean, what are the living dead to a guy who can track and kill animals with his bare hands?
So I told Phil and Paul I was flattered by that I was going to go up north with Ted Nugent. Obviously they didn't believe me but then I reminded them that the goddamn Zombie Apocalypse was about to begin. I could hear the simultaneous shrug as they agreed and said that stranger things have indeed happened and wished me luck. No, actually, they said "it was a pleasure working with you Dr. Venkman...see you on the other side". Yeah, I would have torn their fucking throats out with my teeth. A yot.
Anyway, right before the city was locked down, Ted picked me up in a helicopter and after a few hours flying north, he landed us in a field somewhere in the woods. He told me that from here we would have to drive and then showed me his modified Hummer. God damn but that man can modify a Hummer. I can't be sure, but at one point, I think we were actually just driving over rocks and the inside of the truck didn't even vibrate. He said the cabin was stocked with enough supplies to last two people twenty years and that it was my home as well but that his studio was off limits. He said "no one but Ted was allowed in the Magic Room". I completely understood and told him so. He said he didn't think I really understood, but he appreciated the gesture. Warning lights: zero. Idiot...
About forty minutes later we reached a high, sturdy gate that he said surrounded the whole estate and then I got to see just what a true survivalist with money can accomplish. His "cabin" made all the other cabins I'd ever seen look like a Downs Syndrome patient's refrigerator box fort by comparison. It was one of the nicest domiciles I'd ever seen, let alone been inside in my life. Not too shabby. At first, everything was just as excellent as I had thought it would be; he had a massive DVD collection, a private screening room, an extensive library, not to mention an incredible sound system. More food than I could ever eat, a generator, a back up generator, about eight bedrooms, six bathrooms, steam room, sauna, workout room, three water heaters and, most pertinent in our current situation, an arsenal. If he ever got tired of killing zombies with his bare hands, we'd still have enough ammo and guns to last a long time. On top of all this, he had some special satellite television that got thousands of channels (he said that when he would "go hermit" for months at a time, he still liked the option to stay up on current world events) so we were able to track the progression of this...horror for as long as there were people with cameras tracking it.
As the days went on, Ted taught me how to use the guns so that if I were ever attacked without him there I wouldn't be a victim. Pretty soon I was as deadly as a rabid elephant but as economical with my movements as a ninja. Ted Nugent had turned me into a rabid elephant ninja...and it was awesome. Not that that seemed to be a problem. After about three months, we had yet to have one breach. Occasionally we'd do perimeter sweeps, but, for whatever reason, the zombies never came up this far.
Like I said, things were going great...then...well...things got a bit odd and everything went down hill from there. One night at dinner, Ted surprised me by kissing my hand. First off, Ted Nugent is NOT the kind of man to kiss a woman's hand. He would offer up hugs that went on just a bit too long and sometimes, I'd catch him staring at me, just smiling. In a way, it was sweet and kind of flattering. But I had no interest in him, at all. I was thoroughly convinced that this wasn't forever, that there would be an end to it and everything would return to some state of normality. He didn't seem to agree. Things sort of came to a head one night at dinner when, out of nowhere, he said that he and I might be the last people on Earth, that we might be responsible for repopulating the planet like Adam and Eve. Before really thinking about the consequences I said that I doubted things would come to that and that the military were most likely working on a contingency and so on and so forth. I think he had stopped listening at "things would come to that". I may have put a bit too much of an edge on "that" and he was suddenly sullen. After the quiet dinner had ended, he told me he wanted to play me a song. We had occasionally listened to music on the huge system and it wasn't totally out of the ordinary for one of us to bring something to the other, but there was this strange gravity...I found out why in a moment. I'll cut to the chase: it was a power ballad in which Ted listed my attributes and then proposed marriage. I will never forget the line: "and in this corpse littered wasteland, we'll see the union of a woman and man". Shudder. Normally, I'd do this over Gchat or, even better, e-mail, but neither of us were online, so I had to tell Ted Nugent that I didn't see him this way, that I was very grateful for everything he'd done but that I just wasn't interested in him.
That...was a huge mistake.
After that night, he would spend more and more time either locked in his studio or out of the house. I was never outright worried because he was absolutely capable and besides, there was the gate, but every time he came back in he'd just have this look in his eyes. Like he was studying me...cataloging me. It scared the shit out of me. The arsenal was left unlocked and several loaded guns were always kept in a specific place in case they needed to be accessed quickly and, one night, I snuck down and grabbed a Walther PPK, just to have. I was beginning to worry. This ominous energy started filling up the place like a fog. Something was about to happen. We would sometimes still see each other at dinner, but he would either be silently angry or tears would stream down his stone-like face...it was getting to me.
Then one morning, I woke to find him in my room, sitting in a cane chair by the door. My hand tightened on the gun under my pillow and I may have done something...irreversible if it hadn't have been for the look in his eyes and the shotgun on his lap. I didn't know if he was going to kill me or himself or both of us. I just stared, too frightened to say anything and, after what felt like hours, he stood up and left. I lay there, thinking that, if he did ever snap...I'd be dead. No contest. He was an honest to God survivalist when things were completely normal, the recent world events had...shit...enhanced the natural survivor in him...made him more feral, less human. I'd hurt him in some fundamental way without meaning to or trying to but he was...he wasn't dealing with it very well.
I didn't see him for the next three days and I was just beginning to wonder if maybe he hadn't just...gone native....just dropped all pretenses of humanity and become whatever it was that lived at the center of him when he was there, in the living room that night, listening to music on headphones. I thought it would be best if I just went up to my room and so I did. All my clothing had been dumped out of my drawers and scattered around the room. I was beside myself but, what could I do? At dinner, I meant to bring it up...but I just couldn't. His eyes...
I lay awake for hours, terrified of what might happen. At one point, I thought I heard noises coming from somewhere in the house...the fucked up thing is...here I am in the fucking Zombie Apocalypse and I'm more frightened of Ted Nugent than the walking dead. I'd never even seen one of the undead thanks to the remote location and the gate outside...
The days passed in the same fashion and...I began...I began considering...I began considering killing him. I was living in fear and unable to function, there was clearly something wrong with him and I wouldn't stand a chance if he went off the deep end.
I was lying in my bed, thinking about the implications and if I would ever be able to do something like this to another human being when Ted made the choice easy for me. There was a thump at my door, like a half knock...and then the groaning. Ted? I called. No answer. I pulled my Walther out from under my pillow and pulled back the hammer, ready for anything. In the end, it was much less dramatic than one would have expected. I crept to the door, turned the knob and jumped back, gun at the ready. Eventually, there was another thud and the door swung slowly open. It was Ted. He didn't look as horrifying as I thought he would. I knew from the news that he had just been turned. He was wearing a bathrobe and from the waist down, it was soaked with blood. I didn't think anything about it at the time, I just aimed for the head and squeezed the trigger, once, twice. Turns out I didn't need the second shot. The bullet went in and he hit the ground like a pile of rags. There was no explosive exit wound or anything like from the movies, just a pop and a thump. I stood there for a bit, cried a little, more in relief than anything else, I'll be honest, and then I covered him with a spare sheet from the linen closet down the hall. Now, this is a little weird...because of the way he fell, his robe had opened a bit and...okay, I saw his dick. I wasn't looking to sneak a peek at zombie Ted Nugent's junk, but when I leaned down to cover him, I just saw it. It was where all the blood was coming from. Most of it was bitten completely off. I was stunned. What the fuck was I looking at? He didn't have any other noticeable bites on his body, just his penis. But that would mean that a zombie...had bitten it. And he was wearing a robe, so he hadn't been outside, it was the middle of the winter. I looked down at the body again, and noticed the rawhide strip around his neck. I bent down and pulled it off of his neck.
The key to his studio.
So...here I am...key in hand...standing outside the door that he told me never to go into. I have a pretty bad feeling about what's in there, but I also have five shots left in the Walther and, whatever it is, it's got to be done.
If he was keeping a zombie in here and...fucking it...well, I have to get rid of it.
All right...let's do this...
Wha-?
AARGH!
Ah....fuck! You survivalist DICK! An axe? A fucking axe?! YOU BOOBY TRAPPED YOUR ZOMBIE SEX SLAVE?
Ah...shit this hurts...bleeding like a fucking-wait...what the fuck? It's...those are...it's wearing my underwear? And...a wig? My make up?! Oh Jesus Christ! You sick...! Fuck you, Ted Nugent! Fuck you, you degenerate hillbilly psycho! You scum sucking zombie fucker! Oh fuck...where's...the gun...fuck...she's...gunna eat...m-