The Zombie Zoo – Zombie Hunters

ME1

Just the other day I found myself in a situation that could have gone south in a bad way had I not kept my wits about me, and like most stories that involve some kind of awfulness, it began at Walmart, home of low, low prices and soul crushing despair. I had stopped in there for the same reason I normally stop into Walmart, to scrounge the five dollar movie bin for movies I barely want but can’t pass up at five bucks a pop. It’s the only reason I have all the Fast and the Furious movies. There I was spelunking though the bin like a West Virginia coal miner, making myself a perilous mountain of DVDs that was ready to topple over and cause a small plastic avalanche at any moment, when I felt a strange tingle at the back of my neck, letting me know something was wrong. It’s not like Spider Sense or anything, just that little nudge that comes from the part of your brain that still remembers having to deal with saber tooth tigers telling you to watch out for danger. I turn around and there, walking down the aisle right towards me, are three rather scary looking individuals with “zombie hunter” written on their faces, figuratively of course because it would be kind of silly if they actually had it written on their faces, though it would definitely make it a lot easier for us. Anyways, when I see them coming I immediately know there’s going to be trouble. Sure, I’ve got my zombie coverall on so I look relatively normal and enough deodorant to make sure I smell relatively normal, but those assholes can spot us a mile away. Luckily they hadn’t noticed me yet, them being too busy patting themselves on the back to notice little old me, so I do the only thing I could think to do, I hopped into the large cavern I’d dug into the DVD bin, covering myself in mostly forgettable movies, hoping they still haven’t noticed me. Sure enough, they walk right on by, and I get to live another day, well, not so much live, but you know what I mean.

Yes, it’s your favorite member of the walking dead, and as you can tell from the above story this week’s topic is all about a zombie’s worst nightmare, zombie hunters. A few weeks back I mentioned zombie hunters when discussing the massacre they set up for Memorial Day many years ago, so I figured it was time I elaborate on zombiekind’s worst enemy and why the undead both fear and despise the bastards. You might think it cowardly to try and hide from them the way I did, but trust me, if you’re among the undead you do not want to tangle with those guys unless you absolutely have to. They are a vicious lot who enjoy hunting down zombies a bit too much, doing it not to help mankind but because they think it’s fun. Most unnatural creatures have a specialized hunter. Vampire hunters hunt vampires, werewolf hunters hunt werewolves, ghost hunters get awful television shows, leprechaun hunters hunt sea monsters, not sure how that mix up happened, and zombie hunters hunt zombies. Most of the above mentioned different types of hunters are good people, I may not agree with what they do, some of my friends are vampires and werewolves, but at least the people hunting them down do it because they want to help save as many humans as they can, and killing the creatures that prey on humans helps keep humans alive. I might not have as much of a problem with zombie hunters if they were hunting us for the same reasons. After all we do hunt the living, devouring them whole or turning them into fellow zombies, so it makes sense that a group of humans might want to take up arms to stop us, but that’s not why zombie hunters do it. They do it because they find it an enjoyable pastime that gives them an excuse to kill people that aren’t still legally considered people. They could go after vampires or werewolves instead, but most zombie hunters are cowards when it comes right down to it. Vampires and werewolves are difficult creatures to kill, vampires being extremely fast and werewolves being extremely strong, while we’re pretty easy to kill. We can’t move fast, we’re no stronger than a regular human, and all it takes is one blunt object to the head and we’re done, so they hunt us instead of the more formidable creatures of the night.

They don’t even bother to hide how much they enjoy it either, which makes it kind of sickening if you ask me. As I said, I get why humanity would want to take us out, and I don’t blame them, not when entire hordes of rampaging zombies are out there looking for a tasty, two legged snack, but at least give us our dignity for god’s sake. There’s no reason for such complete disrespect toward my kind. If they’re going to kill us, just kill us and get it over with, but that’s not what these assholes do. No, they taunt us first if they get the opportunity, which they most often do. A few of them will nab two or three zombies at a time to torment, mocking them as they hack off bits and watch the poor, undead souls squirm. Larger groups will take down dozens at a time, capturing a few for the sick amusement at after parties where they get drunk and proceed to torture those they’ve brought back. It’s a horrible fate that no creature deserves. It’s beyond disturbing to watch too, if you haven’t seen it in person, and if you haven’t you should consider yourself lucky for this, fan of the undead or not, watching these hunting packs is a disgusting thing to witness, you’ve seen it on film, most notably in Night of the Living Dead. You know that scene towards the end where all the rednecks are roaming the countryside hunting down zombies and drinking beer, hooting and hollering like it’s just the greatest thing ever? Yeah, that’s pretty much what it’s like. You have to see the remake of Night of the Living Dead and that version of it to truly understand what it’s like for us because that’s the one that shows the true brutality of it. They hang us in trees by our necks to take pot shots at us, throw us in cages and try to turn us against each other, and even set us on fire while we’re still moving. It’s a horrid thing to watch, and I’m pretty sure they just filmed an actual hunting party and put it in the movie. I could be wrong of course, but that’s my guess.

We’re not entirely defenseless mind you. One on one we’re usually more than capable of handling them since they’re almost always too full of themselves to play carefully. All it takes is one bite and they’re as good as dead. It’s when they come at us in groups that we have so much trouble dealing with them, individually they aren’t much of a problem at all. I’m proud to say I’ve taken out a few hunters myself during my unlife. Though I tend to be a vindictive bastard, I don’t consume them, I just turn them, makes the hunter feel a healthy dose of shame once that happens. It works out great for us too considering some of the best defensive strategies we’ve been able to come up with have come from zombie hunters we turned. The guilt once they’ve been zombified works as a great motivator in getting them to turn against their former friends. We also have the option of making the trek to the nearest union hall, those places being fortified against hunter attacks. You guys think you fortify your places against us, you haven’t seen fortification till you’ve seen how decked out the union halls are. I’d go into further detail but I’m not about to give away secrets to any hunter that might be reading this.

Look, I know humanity has its reason to dislike and want us gone, but zombie hunters just take things too far. If you’re determined to be a hunter, go for vampire or werewolf hunter, hell, go for ghost hunter, but whatever you do stay away from the sick fucks who enjoy hunting the undead. There are worse things you can be than a zombie, and the zombie hunters prove that.

Until next time this is your unfriendly neighborhood zombie signing out.

About The Undead Review

When I was alive I was an asshole and after I died remained pretty much the same, if not a little worse. You’d think becoming a member of the walking dead would mellow a person out, no more worrying about awkward small talk with people, no more having to be politically correct, and the entire world is your upright, bipedal buffet. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun as hell to be a zombie, just somewhat irritating at times, especially those times you have to watch a lame movie or read a lame book. Thankfully, when I am forced to watch these films or read those books, I’ve got places like The Undead Review to bitch and moan to my heart’s content. {When he’s not devouring the living or sinking his teeth into a good film The Undead Review (Andy Taylor) spends his time writing his own stories or hunting down the paranormal. Oh, and did we mention his blind dog once saved the world?)
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