Jeremy, Schmidt and Romero approached the front door of Hugo’s house cautiously. The heavy front door was slightly ajar and the three men stood at the door, drowning in silent apprehension. Schmidt used the tip of his weaponized shovel to slowly push the door open the rest of the way. The men squinted and peered into the shadowy, messy home. They gingerly tiptoed inside, minds on high alert.
“Hugo?” The young man’s father asked aloud, hopefully.
The three slowly entered the house, cautiously stepping through all the garbage on the floor. Jeremy held the flare gun with both hands lowered in front of him and ready. Schmidt limply hung onto his shovel, dragging it. Romero cautiously searched a hallway closet, locating a baseball bat and hefting it over his shoulder.
Hugo stood at the end of the hallway that led to the bedroom. He was wearing pants over his full body latex suit, the hood pulled back, exposing his face. His eyes were darkened and discoloured, his cheeks had a strange, green pallor, as if starting to decay. Despite the obvious fact that Hugo was turning into one of the undead that the men were desperately trying to avoid, Dr. Schmidt stood upright and confident, reaching out toward his son, wanting to step forward and take hold of him in fatherly protection. At Hugo’s feet were the three zombie sex slaves that he’d been keeping secret in his room. Each undead concubine had their control collar replaced with a neck shackle attached to a chain, the other end of which was held firmly in Hugo’s hand. The shackled zombie lovers crouched and glared at the live humans that dared to enter their dank abode like ravenous wild animals.
“Dad. Meet the girls,” a raspy, distant voice emitted from Hugo.
Reality began to sink in. Dr. Schmidt quickly became horrified.
“My-my God Hugo, what have you done?” Schmidt stammered.
Hugo’s slowly zombifying face sank. He looked dejected, defeated and depressed.
“Heh…thought you would have been proud of me. We would have made a ton of money,” Hugo opined in that distant, quickly changing voice.
Hugo looked up and glared with his fucked up eyes and green face.
“...if the suit hadn’t had a leak,” his vocal cords scratched out.
Schmidt’s body shook, overcome with revulsion and terror.
“Money? I don’t need money! This is an abomination!” Schmidt struggled through feelings of betrayal and tears.
“AWW! Don’t say that Dad! They’re nice girls! You just need to get to know them!” Hugo’s voice scraped and clawed through each syllable, beginning to sputter dark flecks of blood onto his lips.
Hugo’s discoloured face became a deep, distorted scowl of anger. His hand released its grip on the chains that held the hungry, enslaved women. The chains clattered to the floor.
The three zombie girls lunged onto Dr. Schmidt and began biting into him as he screamed in terror. His face became a twisted mask of fear and agony.
“AAHHHH!!!!” the doctor screamed.
“GAAHH!!” the redheaded undead concubine groaned before chomping into the screaming man on the floor.
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