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Many years after the OUTBREAK, someone finally found the last zombie. He was just milling about somewhere in upstate New York. Said they found him circling some old camp site. Campers were long gone. How? Well, that was something the news had left out.

They decided they were going to show off the last zombie. A parade, perhaps. Or maybe a sort of tour all across America. Come to a city near you to see the last zombie ever before… well, you just can’t anymore.

They locked him up in a cage and put it up on the back of a trailer. All day and all night, the last zombie traveled through a country he never knew.

He spent one morning watching the sun rise over the Atlantic ocean. Before breakfast, you could smell fried pork while passing Cincinnati. Enjoy a chilly lunch in the beautiful mountains of the Colorado Rockies. And the dry desert heat of a Nevada dusk. Then, in the dead of night, the moon fell over a sandy beach in San Francisco.

Along the way, they’d feed him rats, rabbits, and robins. Live ones, from one cage to another. The last zombie took no time in devouring his meals. And then he’d stare, dead eyed, slack jawed at everything and nothing all at once.

Often, people would crowd around his cage. They’d throw tomatoes at him, apples, even curse his name.

Dave.

His name was Dave.

They cursed Dave.

It took no time at all for the world to find who the last zombie was before taking such a notable role. Dave Wilson, as boring as it sounds, was a 32-year-old manager at a small grocery store just outside of Syracuse. He had gone on a hiking trip alone, as it’s reported, “to find myself.” It’s believed that soon after, he was bitten and stranded in the woods alone ever since.

On the night before he met his end, a small boy greeted the last zombie, Dave. He had snuck into the compound under the cloak of darkness and waited until the guards turned their backs. He crept up to the cage and found Dave’s gaze.

“I’m going to save you,” he said. His voice was just over a hush. “I’m going to save you and let you live out your days free. Like every other living creature.” The boy’s smile was enough for Dave to flex his weak muscles and mimicked as best as he could. That must have been all the little boy needed because he took off after that. The boy darted between the makeshift cabins and dirty tents before disappearing into the night. Dave was alone then.

Morning comes and Dave is in the middle of something important that is happening. They moved his cage. There was an interesting smell wafting through the air.

There were a handful of half eaten rats and birds littered around Dave’s feet. The music began to swell from beyond the crowd that was now forming. He looked down at the half eaten bodies again. How gray and old they looked. A rumble shook his cage, rippling from his chest out to his feet. The heat of hunger swept over him.

A small voice cut through the bustle of the crowd. Dave fell towards the bars of his cage. His knees knocked hard, almost dropping him to the floor. The small voice grew louder.

“He knows not what he does!” the voice shouted, amplified by a handheld speaker. “He knows not what he does!” he said again. The crowd murmur fell to a hush. The small boy continued. “He’s like a baby. He doesn’t understand that his actions have consequences. He didn’t ask to be a zombie anymore then he asked to be here. And we’ve put him on display like an animal at the zoo! How would you feel if they put you in a cage and paraded you  around?”

This last line really hits hard on the crowd. Many of them exchanged tear filled eyes, hoping for recognition that they did the right thing. They did everything they could to make it right, didn’t they?

Some hold hands. Others prayed. The boy turned and stepped toward the last zombie. Dave shuttered to stand. The boy looked back at the crowd.

“You have something you want to say, Dave?” he asked. Something stirred inside Dave at the sound of his name. His name. What was his name? All I can think of is…

The boy took another step forward. Dave’s legs buckled into the cage again, his head hits the bars hard. The smash echoed out into the open air. The boy moved the microphone closer to his mouth.

“Go ahead,” the boy whispered. “Tell us your truth.”

Dave’s stomach twisted, and his blank stare flashed with a violent rage. He squeezed his head as far as he could through the bars, and his arms desperately swung at anything below him. His fingers caught the small boy’s hand, and he pulled it towards him. There’s a high-pitched squeal from the speaker.

With both hands gripped tight, Dave pulled as hard as he could, slamming the small boy into the bars of the cage. The sound of his head cracking on the metal is deafening. The audience’s prayer falls into a quiet shock. Dave pulled the boy’s head into the bars again only this time, he was successful and dragged the small boy between the bars just enough for Dave to taste his reward.

Dave pressed his dried lips to the warm metal and the screaming slowly echoed off his ears. He took a bite. His teeth found flesh, blood, then bone. Something deep inside him encouraged him to continue. He took another bite. This time, he felt a rush of liquid burst into his mouth and down his throat. He bit again and an earthquake washes over his body. Every joint and nerve screamed out, and Dave took another bite.

It was then that the last zombie would live up to its name. The scream of the crowd wasn’t enough to dampen another shotgun blast. Dave fell to the cage floor.

He was the last zombie no more.