The sign above the two dead walkers still attached to the end of a hangman’s rope read “Welcome to the Hen House. I rang the bell above the rusted reinforced iron gate and kept a hand close to the gun hidden under my coat. The sound of metal grinding rang through the air as the gate sprung open. An old man with a mouthful of rotten teeth stood before me with one hand down his dirty slacks and the other holding a shotgun. “What do you want,” said the old man.

“I’m here to fuck,” I said defiantly. The old man suddenly shoots me a crooked smile and lowers his gun. “Well, you came to the right place. We got the sweetest chicken pussy in all the valley.” The degenerate old bastard smelt like rotten fish. I felt the sickly burning of acid in my throat as I tried to hold it together. “I ain’t here to fuck chickens.” The old man nods his head. “You’re in luck. We got a fine new mare out in the field. Broke her in, myself,” laughed the old man.

“I’m not here to fuck animals, you rotten bastard. I’m looking for something different.” The old man spat a glob of phlegm that he sucked violently from his nasal cavity onto the ground in front of me. “What the fuck do you want then.”

I tighten my grip around the handle of my gun. “I’m looking for dead flesh. Young dead flesh.” The old man smiles.

“You’re a real freak, aren’t you?. You like that cold pussy,” said the old man as he draped his filthy arm around my back. “That ain’t going to be cheap,” said the old man as he looked me up and down with a lustful glint in his eyes. “Money won’t be a problem, trust me.”

The old man brought me to a shed hidden behind bushes. “We got her last week. She’s young and only been a dead few weeks,” he said as he opened the door to the shed. Inside the dark and dingy shack lay a dead walker strapped to the bed with its mouth gagged. I stood and watched as some piece of shit was on top of her, grunting like an animal. “We have a client warming her up for you,” said the old man with a sly smile.

As the old man turned his back, I pulled out my Smith & Wesson and blasted a hole in his head. The filthy pervert that was on top of the dead walker coward in the corner. I pumped two bullets into his warped brain as he pleaded for his life.

I took the gag from my daughter’s mouth. She had just turned 13 when the dead walkers swarmed our camp. I kissed her on the forehead. “Sorry I wasn’t there for you sooner. No one will ever hurt you again,” I said before plunging my knife into her temple, finally putting her to rest.