It all started with a jolt. My eyes shot open and panic set in. I didn't know where I was, the only thing I knew was an urge to climb. It wasn't easy, I had to scrape at the very dirt itself with my bare hands. Scratching, scratching, scratching. I didn't know what way was up and which was down, I just hoped that my instincts were right.

It must have taken a good few hours before I scraped away to the first few streams of sunlight. Still just reacting and not thinking, I sped up and at the first opportunity I shoved my arm out into open air. I stayed like that for a few moments before I began clawing at the opening with a strange new desperation. I eventually made a large enough opening to fit through and I pulled my way up into open air. I lay there on the ground for several minutes, retching up dirt, gravel and worms as my brain slowly started working again.

Finally my first thought since awaking entered my head. I should be dead. I sat up and looked down at my hands. My skin was a deathly grey colour and bits of flesh were missing, including a gash across my right wrist. If I hadn't already vomited up everything inside me then I would have then. This...this couldn't be right! I...There had to be an explanation! I...I need to see my face!

I crawled my way over to a nearby river and, dread following me and every step, looked into the water. I saw my reflection and...I was wrong. It wasn't I should be dead. I was dead, my skin was dead, I had a chunk of flesh missing from my neck, my eyes had gone from deep blue to an icy blue with blood in them. I glared into the water. "All because of that bitch." I snarled, my voice a little raspy. I slowly stood and looked around. I tried to walk, but immediately I almost fell. Great, couldn't even fucking walk now! I staggered to my feet again and tried to move again, the most I could manage was a slow stagger. Well, I've been dead for who knows how long, muscles must have to get working again.

I staggered back to the hole I crawled my way out of and saw a tombstone. 'Our Saviour, whom without Ponyville would not be standing today.' I shook my head, Ponyville? That was called...? I looked into the hole and saw a coffin, yet I never felt any wood, nor had I splinters in my hands. Was it left open after I died? It was then I spotted my gun, I hopped down into the grave again to collect my weapon before climbing back out. If I remembered right I had about ten bullets left. They might come in handy.

As I looked up from my gun I came face to face with a zombie. I flailed around and fell back into my grave. Fuck that! I'm not dying a...oh. I stood up. It was one of those horse things. And a zombie, rotten flesh, clouded over eyes, the whole zombie shebang. Shezombang.

"Uh...hi." I said. I wonder if it had intelligence like me?

It's mouth opened and it let out a low groan before turning and wandering through the forest. Guess that's a no. It was then I noticed the other zombies wandering around, all heading in the same direction. I...guess I should follow them? I mean, I feel like I have to.

As I shambled along with them I realised that I could...sort of feel their presence. Somehow! It didn't make sense! I was just a normal guy, now I can shoot like I've been doing it for years, kill without flinching when before I couldn't dissect a pig's heart without throwing up, and now I can feel the presence of zombies?! What the hell is going on?!

I sighed, wishing I could get a better look at one of the undead. I looked over to a nearby zombie and just wished that it's path was just a little more diagonal so it would be closer to me. To my shock that's exactly what happened. I...Did I do that? I felt out for it and...mentally gave it a push back to a straight line, and moments later it did so. So I can control the things now?! The fuck?! I shook my head, making me realise the bearskin was still on my head. Right, at the convention I couldn't keep the thing on straight for more that a few seconds, but here it's like its superglued to my head? The fuck?!

I shook my head, I was going off on a tangent. Right. I focused on the same zombie again and tried to get it to stop walking. Nothing. Was it just a fluke? I tired to point it in a different direction and it responded. Right, I can't control them but I could...point them? This made no fucking sense whatsoever.

We eventually arrived at a town. At the town, the place I...I was murdered! It had grown a lot, but it was still clearly the same place. How long ago had I died? As we stumbled into town I saw a bunch of horse things grouped together at the centre of town. Huh, not a bad idea, got all your sides covered, but what are you going to do turn nightfall? As we approached we stepped onto and over the last zombies to try. I shook my head, what the hell was I doing?! Was I just about to attack these people because I was a zombie?! The hell's wrong with me?!

Before I could make my getaway the zombie next to me was blasted by...by some beam shot from a unicorn's horn! The fuck?! Right...chalk it up to magic until I get an explanation. I saw the same unicorn fire again and just about managed to twist to the side in time to avoid getting killed again. How fucking dare he!

Without thinking I raised my gun and fired a round into his skull. Everything went quiet as everything went to stare at me, even the zombies. I simply fired another shot into the crowd. As the second body dropped everything started up again and a multitude of beams and blasts came my way followed by a spear.

I fucking hate spears.

It was no longer a matter of killing them because I, for some reason, felt like it was the right thing to do, it was a matter of survival. They wanted to kill me. I couldn't let that happen. I fired again and again until I was out of bullets at which point I ejected the spent magazine and inserted the fresh magazine I had in my other hand. Wait...where the fuck did that come from? No, questions later, survival now.

I fired and fired, reloaded, dodged attacks and fired. It was...right? No, it wasn't. But for some reason it felt right and good. What was wrong with me?

I saw the horses start to run, away from the hoard and out of the town. The last few that stayed did so to 'buy the others time'. Honestly, I humoured them and in the end, their spears vs my bayonet. My bayonet won. The one who survived from the attack spat at me. So, logically I spat back into his face. He screamed as the black thing that came from my mouth hit him. He began scraping where it hit him as black veins began spreading through his body, before finally he dropped to the ground. A few seconds later he slowly stood and let loose a low groan.

Huh. So my spit carries the infection. Cool.

I looked around. The living were gone, all that remained were the dead. I let out a chuckle, "Welcome to Zombieville, population: Us."

Author's Note

Wow, two chapters in two days. You guys are welcome!