It’s not just because I’m a vampire and hate everything that’s different from me (I do) but it’s because those selfish, inconsiderate cretins have no concern for anybody else when it comes to the matters of fine dining.
I don’t know how the outbreak started, just a few hundred years ago those brain dead skullmunchers were nothing! Barely a couple hundred of them on the whole planet but now? Now there’s 300 million of them in America alone and almost certainly more on the way. I can’t open my curtains at night without seeing those cretins lurking around in the street outside, their jaws gaping dumbly as they look at me. The same thing always happens, they see that I have no nutritious value and stalk off in search of more nourishing prey.
It goes the same way, I’ve tasted zombie blood before, and it is disgusting. It’s been centuries since I last felt the desire for human food but if I had to compare it to something the blood of one of those cretins would taste like a sheep’s tongue mixed with liquid feces.
That’s why I’m lucky. Well. Was lucky. Most of the other vampires I know have starved to death, no tears shed there though since they were all right bastards. I had a marvellous idea a few decades ago to work the night shift in one of those Blood Banks, they care greatly for their blood these humans and I don’t blame them! It was quite difficult at first. They kept a close eye on their stock before all those bloodbags died so I had to get used to taking less blood than I needed, just sipping teensy bits from the various vials they keep refrigerated.
Cold blood is wonderfully refreshing, even more so than blood from a beating heart but warm blood that’s been shed is foul. If I had to pick a favourite flavour, I’d pick AB Negative, just a pity that it’s so rare. Tastes like a fine wine and I’m slobbering just thinking about it.
So, when the apocalypse happened, I was fine. I suppose it had to be zombies really. Werewolves aren’t organized enough to pull it off, mummies are overrated and if we vampires conquered the world it’d be like shooting ourselves in the foot really, which I suppose is exactly what the zombie population did.
Sometimes when I’ve nothing better to do I go to the roof of the Blood Bank and laugh at them while drinking. Not sure if you’re aware but scientists have theorized that zombies moan as a form of communication with one another, that’s a load of bollocks. The reason why zombies moan (I learned this from a friend) is because they’re hungry, trust humans to overthink every bloody thing.
So, a few months have passed now since humanity fell. I was loving life, sleeping in as late as I want and all that. I moved my coffin to the Blood Bank’s basement as soon as things kicked off, it seemed the thing to do. It wasn’t until the other day that a problem occurred that I had not foreseen.
All the blood had gone off.
I suppose those inconsiderate humans that run the government decided to cut the city’s power in an attempt to save energy! Pathetic fools, they’ll all be dead within a year mark my words. If those idiots can’t even handle a zombie apocalypse it’s a good thing that none of the more capable creatures roaming the night decided to give the old apocalypse show a go.
So, then I was stuck. Sure, the blood was still drinkable but it’s warm! I can’t go back to the filthy sludge of warm blood after spending decades drinking in cold blood paradise!
But it seems lady luck was on my side.
I was on the roof just a few hours before dawn, glass of disgustingly warm blood in hand and a sad expression on my face. The moans of those brainless cretins was flowing up from the streets below but I’ve grown so used to it that I’m able to ignore it.
Only something caught my attention.
The zombies’ moaning had stopped, replaced instead by the quiet fury that fills those beasts once they catch the scent of food.
I stared at them in amazement and watched those fools shamble almost excitedly down the street. I sniffed the air and a flicker of excitement passed over me.
The scent of fresh blood filled my nostrils.
A most devilish smile crossed my face and for the first time in awhile I sprouted my fangs. There’s a bit of confusion amongst the meatbags about whether we vampires need our fangs to actually drink blood, we don’t. We only use our fangs if we’re biting a victim, makes it easy to drink while the blood is still fresh.
Even though I hadn’t used my powers properly since I joined the Blood Bank the use of them never faded from my mind. I stepped towards the edge of the roof and immediately felt the different parts of my body, shift and form into a flock of fluttering bats. The bats aren’t actually real, just an illusion conjured up to make my movement all the easier. It’s wonderfully convenient for getting to places quickly in the dead of night.
Following the horde and the scent of blood I saw them. A cluster of survivors situated in an alleyway. The poor things seemed utterly pathetic, surrounded from all sides and standing atop a dumpster.
What delicious prey they would be.
Transforming back into my material form I descended towards the horde below, not content with sharing my meal with the carnivorous cretins that have unintentionally made my life a living hell recently.
I was never one for physical combat, but when fighting zombies one doesn’t have to be. I dropped down into the middle of the horde; all of the cretins ignored me due to my own membership as one of the undead. The scent of those lovely human survivors filled my nose and in that moment gave me fury.
My fists flew as quick as lightning, the heads of my victims flew with them. It was effortless, easy and in a matter of minutes the last remnants of this vast horde were nothing more than black splatters against my fist.
A wonderful scent caught my attention, the tantalizing smile of AB negative blood.
‘You… you saved us!’ One of the survivors exclaimed, shock on his face. A smile crossed mine.