Mercy Angel

Another flash fiction challenge from Chuck Wendig over at! The challenge this week was to write a horror story as spam mail. So I wrote a “419 scam” set during a zombie apocalypse. So in 500 words or less, I give you:

Mercy Angel

Subject: “PLEASE HELP”



To Anyone Still Alive,

Three days ago, I was attacked. It was dark; our power generator had ran out of gas and I was outside refilling it. I shouldn’t have left, at least not until daybreak when I could see them coming. But it’s been so damn cold and my little girl has been fighting the flu…

At least I managed to kill the horde before they destroyed the perimeter, but one of the bastards bit me. I was ready. I had the gun in my mouth and everything; but all that greeted me was an empty click.

I couldn’t make Alice do it. She hasn’t recovered from the last time she spilled family blood. Or Leon, even though I stopped thinking of him as my little boy the day he got his first headshot. So I ran away. I ran away without even telling them goodbye.

…Jesus Christ….

I know you don’t even know me. You probably got your own family to worry about. Hell, if I were you, I would ignore this letter. But I’m in a bad way. I’ve found a knife, but can barely type this message, let alone grip the hilt and push it through my skull. I need someone to be my goddamn mercy angel and you’re the only person left I know who can help.

I don’t have much. Until yesterday, I only had a AR-15 with no bullets and a backpack full of dented soup cans with no labels. But  now I have a bowie hunting knife (with no damn blood of my own) and a bag full of medical supplies – ibuprofen, antibiotics, bandages; good shit. God knows the corpse who had it isn’t going to need it anymore.

If you agree to meet me and do what needs to be done, it’s all yours.

I hope you read this far. If you did, I’ll be downtown in the Pachino’s restaurant locked in a supply closet.

Come quick. I can’t guarantee my goods if I become one of them.



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