"Cunning Plan" by Anon [2015]

A Cunning Plan

A pale, petite and naked young woman stood by a blinded window, tensed like a coil. This would normally be unusually behaviour for the woman, who was called Brie. But normalacy had been abandoned long ago, and it all came down to one simple reason.

Zombies.

It all kept coming back to that word. Brie was in danger because of zombies. She couldn’t get out of her apartment because of zombies. No one was coming to rescue her because of all the zombies. The power was out because of zombies. The water for her shower was out, meaning that Brie stank of sweat, Ganga and her own musk because of zombies, and certainly not because the only thing taking the sting out of the situation was a healthy supply of weed and near-constant masturbation. It was zombies all the way down for Brie, and that word wasn’t going away anytime soon. Even her “stress relief” fantasies were starting to include the fuckers; there was just no escaping them. Zombies.
Literal, actual zombies, straight out of the movies.

Her life's zombie surplus had went from “practically non-existent” to “more than needed” overnight. Her roomies-the wacky and out there Becky, the brainy medical student Michelle-were in all likelihood dead, or worse. Her family were back in the Midwest, but god knows how they were doing. Brie had manage to remain undetected in her small apartment for almost a whole week (it was hard to tell), but the number of undead outside seemed to be growing larger; surely they would find her soon. The time to act was fast approaching.

Brie risked a quick glance through the blinds of her window. Down below, hordes of zombies shambled aimlessly through the streets, seemingly oblivious to the state of their own bodies. A zombie with no arms butted its head against a door across the street, leaving a smear of blood. Horrified and yet strangely curious, Brie’s eyes were drawn to the more urgent limping of a formerly alive woman wearing a jogging top and nothing else making her way down towards a bakers. Her progress was delayed as she tripped over her own intestines. The ghoulish thing started to drag herself (“itself”, Brie corrected herself) along the ground, with a look that seemed to Brie to suggest boredom rather than anything else. In front of her, a bearded man horrible claw scratches all over his torso looked around wildly-
Brie shot back from the blinds, breathing hard. If she was discovered, the horde would make short work of her. “Please oh please oh please, tell me he didn’t just see me” she prayed silently. She had to know. Slowly, Brie opened the blind again.
The bearded man stood still, staring vacantly up at the clear November sky. He slowly, ever so slowly began to rotate…away from the apartment. Brie breathed again, and shut the blind. Her hand automatically went to her bare snatch, a finger circling her clit. Despite herself, she once again could only think of dismembered, dismantled bodies. Brie didn’t care anymore about being weirded out by her own thoughts-if anything, turning horror into fantasy was a coping mechanism. If her pussy was wet after thinking of the hot blonde next door getting her entrails torn out, then so be it; she just needed to cum, and forget the horrible tension. Her orgasm was like the countless others she had
had since the outbreak-quiet, yet intense.

Nevertheless, her day and a half spent peaking out the window had gotten to her. She would surely go crazy if she remained cooped up waiting to die, among other concerns. Not having anticipated a zombie apocalypse, the modest supply of food in the apartment was all but gone. Same with the weed, which was just as bad. But how could she possibly escape?

She began to think of what she knew of her antagonists. She knew that they were slow, but with so many out there she could hardly just make a run for it. Their senses seemed poor contrary to the razor sharp zombies in some video games she had played. Their sense of smell didn’t seem as hot as it could be if they hadn’t smelled her yet. Nor was their hearing particularly sharp, and Brie was willing to bet that zombie eyesight was not a strength.

Brie also knew that while they were extremely hostile towards anything that looked alive, they weren’t the usual brain-eaters she had come to know so well from popular culture. Once a living thing had died, or become infected, they seemed to lose interest. Brie remembered seeing an unfortunate woman having the brain ripped right out her head, but rather than feast upon it and the newly made corpse, the zombies went right on with their pressing business of shambling and moaning. And that was the other thing Brie knew: Whenever they weren’t tearing apart the living, they were really quite passive, content to stay in the streets and wail to each other rather than try anything adventurous. It was probably why she had survived so long. So far, anyway.

It was not a lot, but that was all she had to think on. Thinking hard, Brie sunk to the floor and absent-mindedly licked the cum off her fingers. She couldn’t outrun them. She couldn’t outfight them. She couldn’t count on rescue. She couldn’t stay here. Could she hide? Surely not; Brie was no Solid Snake, and that many eyes, no matter how dull, would surely spot her eventually…

A memory suddenly shot into her head: Shaun of the Dead. A group of survivors in a zombie-ravaged city, evading detection by dirtying themselves up, practicing their moaning and shuffling in a back alley, and then in a stroke of genius, pretending to be undead. It was played for laughs sure, but…would that actually work? Brie couldn’t help but smile at the memory, but she also started to seriously consider the plan. She had nothing else to try other than “sitting in the dark eating peanuts”, as one of the characters from the film put it. If it worked, she could potentially slip out of town, or even find a better place to hole up. If it didn’t…
It was going to have to be a fool proof disguise. Or zombie proof, rather. The survivors in the movie managed to get away with it just by ripping some clothes and moaning, but if this was going to work, Brie was going to have to look absolutely, 100% dead. Anything less would run the risk of discovery. Rising to her feet, Brie ambled over to her own room, which had a full sized mirror on the opposite wall. She studied herself. Short brown hair that had seen better days. Pale, dirty skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Tired brown eyes. Medium breasts, perky nips. She looked like a person who had not had a lot of sleep, which was broadly true. Still, the fact was that Brie didn’t look very dead. Her complexion, which she liked to consider “naturally fair” rather than being the result of staying indoors to long, could count in her favour. Staying naked would also probably help out-most of the zombies outside were in various stages of undress, for whatever reason. Maybe the outbreak happened before anyone got a change to get their clothes on before work. It’s not like there would be anyone alive to see her.

Brie considered how to look more dead. There was probably ketchup or something she could smear on her, but would that really cut it? She didn’t want to take the chance of a poorly-made disguise. She would just die of embarrassment if the hordes outside made a fool out of her. No, it had to be more convincing: the real deal. Brie retrieved a large knife from the kitchen. As she made her way back to the mirror, shaking slightly, she passed Michelle’s room. She knew that the seemingly straight-laced student had managed to stow away various drugs, but had never really bothered her about them-what she did in her own room was her own business, and Brie was fine with Becky’s weed. But now she was curious.

Stealing into the bedroom, which was still surprisingly neat all things considered, Brie conducted a quick search. It was not long before she found a tub underneath the bed. Inside lay a goldmine of pilfered medical materials-bandages, drugs, syringes and such. Among the drugs were…yes, this would do. Painkillers, strong ones. Becky took two and promptly swallowed them dry. Just before she put the tub away, Brie spotted an antihemorrhagic tucked into the corner. While she did want to show a little blood, Brie had a feeling that she was about to perform some home-surgery, and would rather not bleed out before she even left her apartment. She took it as well. Before beginning, she waited about 20 minutes for the drugs to take full effect. In the meantime she spied once more on the zombies outside. There seemed to be even more of them now. Perhaps they sensed a live human-a part of her wished she knew the “rules” to these zombies, who seemed so similar and yet slightly different from the classic sort.

Once she began to feel numb, Brie walked back to her room with a certain calm. The plan was not just a fantasy she was entertaining anymore. This was really happening. She was getting out of this hellhole, or she would die trying. If it meant slicing up her body a little bit then so be it. Brie stood before the mirror, and held the knife against her left arm. Hesitating for only a second, she quickly cut herself across the forearm. Surprisingly she barely felt it-were the drugs really that strong? Disappointingly though, there was only a small trickle of blood. It seems the antihemorrhagic, too, was some serious stuff. She made another, larger cut higher up on her biceps, with a similar result. She repeated the process for her other four limbs, being careful not to accidently sever any major arteries. Examining herself again, she certainly looked messed up, but more in a “fight with an angry cat” way, rather than the “undead monstrosity” look she was hoping for. More extreme measures were needed.

Fishing out the toolbox that was kept in the cupboard for emergencies just like these, Brie returned to the mirror wielding a hammer. It wasn’t pleasant business, but as she had decided before, this disguise had to be as close to the real thing as possible. Sure, she could fake a shuffle, but how about actually having a limp? Sitting down, she rested her left foot on her lap, and started to feel around the bones in her lower leg, settling on the joint between her angle and her femur. Taking a deep breath, Brie brought the hammer all the way back over her head before bringing it down with all of her might. Then she done it again, and then a third time. A few sickening crunches later, and her foot was facing a very unnatural position, practically dangling on. It stung quite a bit, but all things considered it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. Huh. Must be the drugs. Shrugging, she got to her knees, clinging onto her bed to help her to her feet, or rather her foot, and tried a few experimental shambles around the room. Her foot was more numb than anything else, and whilst she wasn’t able to support any real weight on it, she did move much more like a zombie now.

And yet she still didn’t look quite dead enough yet. Not wanting to prolong this self-mutilation Brie decided to escalate the situation. It was time to lop off some body parts. Acting fast so she didn’t have to think about it, Brie grabbed hold of an ear and sliced it off. Then she lost her ring and pinkie finger on her left hand. Blood was still coming at a fairly slow rate, much less than she would have though, as she looked around for other parts to amputate. Getting into it now, she started to chop away at her right breast, and after a few seconds butchering it had dropped to the floor, revealing a part of her own ribcage. She rubbed it hazily, feeling only a faint sting where her tit once was, and kept just enough wits to keep the other one intact-this was still a science in a way, and one tit gone was enough of a sacrifice on that front. Now she was looking “better”, at least in terms of what she was aiming for. But there was still nothing obviously fatal-looking in her condition. Fuelled by a heady mixture of various drugs, adrenaline and a week’s worth of sanity slippage, Brie decided to take things even further.

With as much precision as she could muster given the circumstances, Brie drew the blade across her midsection in a small, yet deep horizontal cut, cutting through the layer of muscle. Then she slipped her free hand inside. For the first time she felt something approaching pain, but not enough to stop her from feeling around, brushing against what must have been her kidneys, her hot stomach, her bumpy spine, even her own womb, to which she gave a brief, experimental squeeze, before pulling a loop of her own intestines outside of her body, letting it dangle down toward her navel. It was a bit shocking, seeing herself become less and less normal and more and more disfigured and horrifying, but Brie was now so caught up in the moment, so absolutely committed, that her only real thought was one of pride in her work. Now she was looking like a proper zombie…at least from the front. She still hadn’t mutilated herself from behind yet. What if they saw her from the back and mistook her for a still living human? That just wouldn’t do.
It was easier said than done to carve her own back up. Outside of some cuts, there wasn’t much she could do given her lack of reach in that area. So instead, she moved onto an easier target-her ass. Brie began slicing off a reasonable sized chunk of it. She never had much in the ass department to begin with; it wouldn’t be a big loss. As she bent over, supporting herself with her free hand to compensate for her destroyed foot, a little bit more intestine fell out. Brie made a mental note to try to stay upright during her shambling, lest too much of her organs fell out. Once done with one cheek, she repeated this with the other side, dumping the meat on the floor beside her discarded breast meat.

Looking over at herself once more, she began to think that this was probably enough. But still Brie hesitated slightly-it was good, but was it perfect? It still felt like she could do more. Most zombies had some sort of grievous looking head wound, and the only think out of place on her head was a missing ear, easily covered up by her hair. She supposed that she could lose an eye, but of all hers senses, her vision was the one she was most reluctant to lose. Her sense of smell, however, would be a welcome loss when she was knee deep in the dead. Soon, her nose had joined her ears and her fingers on the bed, leaving a dark hole in the middle of her face. It felt strange to breathe now, but if anything it gave It a raspy quality that aided her undead illusion. Still, more was required.

Brie considered slicing her tongue out, but again it needed to be more obviously visible. She almost began to remove her lower jaw, thinking it would look great without killing her, but then she considered the possibility of meeting another survivor. She did want to let people know that, despite her new look, she was still very much alive, if not entirely well. It would be rotten luck to escape the zombies only to be shot by a human. Scalping herself would also look pretty gross-perhaps she could skin her entire head, leaving just a skull atop the body of a partially disembowelled woman. It would work, she was sure…but there was something even more fool proof than that, even more daring, that would leave any curious zombie in doubt that Brie Weir was a bona fide zombie: exposing her own brain.
Brie wasn’t sure if her trust kitchen knife would be able to slice through her skull. Theoretically she could use the hammer to smash the hard bone to pieces, but that was a gamble-ideally this would be a clean operation. Remembering something, Brie went back to the toolbox in the cupboard, a little slower this time, trying to keep her hand away from her exposed entrails-zombies do not concern themselves with such matters after all. Inside the box there were screwdrivers, nails…and a small hacksaw. Perfect. Before heading back, Brie ventured into Michelle’s room for perhaps the last time, and took some Prozac from the magic tub, as well as a few extra painkillers and anti-bleeding medicine for future use. Making her way back to the room, she debated how to do this. She could try to take off just a small portion, but she wasn’t sure if she had the dexterity needed to make precise cuts around her brain. And the point of this was to look as zombielike as possible-the bigger the better. In for a penny, in for a pound, as her granddad might have said had he ever had to dismember himself to escape from the undead.

Firstly, Brie cut a line all the way across the top of her head, about an inch or two above her eyebrow, so that she wouldn’t have to saw through skin and hair. This was the tricky part-one false move could give her permanent brain damage, and all this work would have been for naught. Despite the risk, Brie felt eerily calm. Her non-mutilated right hand was perfectly still as she held it out in front of her. She picked the handsaw up, placed it on the cut in her forehead, felt it against the bone, and began to saw, going slowly and with great care. She could feel the saw move slowly through her own skull, a little bit at a time. Careful…careful…then, the resistance stopped suddenly. Angling the saw slightly, she repeated this process inch by inch along the circumference of her head, making sure to pull away at just the right moment each time, and taking care to pull her hair above her hand and out of the way of the saw’s teeth. Halfway through the process, Brie smiled sadly as she thought of her medical student friend, and how impressed she might have been at the home-surgery on display. A career as a top-class surgeon was hers in another reality, she was sure.

When she was finished, Brie set the saw down by the bed, and faced herself in the mirror for this final touch. Placing both hands on her now shaky temple, he lifted the entire top half of her head off, revealing her pink brain. Brie set the top of her skull on the bed, and stared at it thoughtfully. Most of her hair was still on it, her chestnut fringe and bangs still intact. When she looked back at the mirror, she did not see Brie Weir staring back at her-that was surely a walking corpse in the mirror.

The hard part was done then. Examining herself from all angles, Brie was satisfied that she could do no more to look like a zombie. After a little practice, even the trademark zombie walk was easy to pull off. Just one more thing to do-some storage for her pills, which she would certainly need. Retrieving a plastic bag from the kitchen, Brie stored a healthy supply of drugs inside them. Clutching a bag seemed to human like, so in order to carry her goods, Brie shoved them deep into the cut in her stomach, smuggling them between some organs. As long as they didn’t fall out she should be fine. She didn’t need anything else. As she passed her bedroom one final time, she gazed sadly at her discarded body parts-her left breast, her ear and nose, some fingers, most of her butt, and of course the top of her skull. The horribly disfigured woman briefly considered taking them with her, but the odds on them being in a condition to get reattached were far too low for the extra hassle. Well, the fleshy parts anyway. What about her skull? Brie had seen zombies carrying what she presumed to be their own limbs around. It would certainly look ghoulish: the woman with the exposed brain still carrying around her detached scalp. She could at least use it as a helmet when zombies weren’t around: that’s what a skull basically was, after all. She picked it up by the hair, letting it hang loosely by her side. She hoped the skin would be strong enough to not detach from the bone.

There was a sudden thump on the door. Then another, accompanied by a loud moan. It was happening alright-the enemies were at the gates, and it was now or never for Brie. The amazing thing was that, after all this, she was in a state of almost zen-like calm. Maybe it was confidence in her plan, maybe it was the drugs, or maybe she had just gone completely insane the moment she first considered turning herself into a walking dead woman. But as she waited for the door to cave in (being able to open it herself might give her away), she was so wholly in character that she began thumping on the door in return, rasping and moaning like a true zombie. Eventually a pale, bloody hand crashed through the door. 5 minutes later, she was face to
face with a trio of undead.

They stared hard at her. She stared right back. Everything was still. The only sound Brie could hear out of her one ear was the heavy breathing of all four beings. The foremost zombie-a bald man with most of his face missing, including his jaw-nevertheless cast a beady blue eye across the naked woman. Then, he moaned softly, before advancing slowly towards her. Brie knew what to do: she calmly walked forwards, and allowed the man into her apartment. The other three followed behind, still moaning in something almost like conversation. Not stopping, Brie calmly moved towards the stairs, outwardly neutral, but soaring inside. It had worked! She was truly a genius.

Thankfully Brie lived on the 1st floor, so after an awkward but trouble-free period of hopping down the stairs, Brie was soon at the now busted open front door of her apartment. Brie felt fresh air on her skin for the first time in a week, felt the slight breeze sway her loose intestines slightly. Her remaining nipple stiffened in the cold, or perhaps simple due to the excitement of it all. Brie was dying to finger herself a little, but pleasure would have to wait for now. She could see the zombies milling around, and now they could see her-but they ignored her almost completely. Brie had escaped the apartment. Now she had to survive the night…