A small group of fat, sweaty, wealthy folks sat sunning under the tropical sky, assembled around the resort pool. The affluent sat sipping drinks being served by poolside zombies. Other undead concierges stood by, perfectly still, waiting to offer the towel draped over their arm. Through an open wrought iron fence and row of decorative topiary shrubs, several zombies without control collars (former mango harvesters) shambled forth, unnoticed by the poolside guests.
An un-collared zombie crept up behind a collared one that stood poolside, ready with a towel. The liberated zombie gripped the shoulder of his enslaved brethren, garnering the latter’s attention. The two undead walking corpses held eye contact for a moment.
The towel rack zombie jerked forward, a look of surprise on his face as his uncontrolled kinsman shoved him from behind.
The zombie’s arms flailed as he fell into the perfectly chlorinated and temperature-regulated water with a sploosh. The action roused the attention and curiosity of the poolside guests; a few bathers inched away in revulsion. It was fine to accept a towel from a zombie, but not share a swimming pool. The water fell still and silent.
A few moments later, the towel rack zombie’s head slowly emerged from the shallow end of the pool, looking angry, his control collar fizzling and shooting sparks.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish