I somewhat pride myself on my stories having no fat, or at least trying not to.

"It's like drinking water contaminated by dead bodies," the man said. "Exactly as disgusting and *ow* unusable as you'd expect *ah* blast it all!" he hissed in pain as I put another stitch into his arm. The bite was rather nasty and his pained grins exposed the sharp fangs in his mouth; a somewhat uncomfortable reminder of his nature.

"And you're sure you can't be infected?" I asked.

Without a word he lifted his shirt and revealed a large bite mark on his stomach, a clear imprint of human teeth that had long healed. Infection normally takes only some 12-odd hours, so... good enough for me.

"Done," I said and put down the needle and thread. I pulled away from him on my stool as he lowered his sleeve and moved his shoulder around, stretching it.

"How long will it take to heal?" I wondered.

"About a day."

"Impressive."

"Had worse. Javelin through the heart once," he stated nonchalantly

"So... stakes through the heart won't kill you?" I asked. He gave me a somewhat suspicious look but shrugged.

"No. Neither will the Sun, garlic, bullets, or, well..." he said and pointed towards the fence where the zombies still shuffled aimlessly. "But hunger will," he added grimly and looked back at me.

"Right," I said. "So..." I trailed off.

"Look, you're not exactly wild about the idea. I get it, really. I may not be exactly human, but I'm not a monster either. This is a simple matter of survival for both of us. How many people have you lost to them so far? I can protect you!" he pleaded.

"In exchange for our blood," I said. He nodded. "I'm not sure we can properly... provide for you. We have, let's see... 8 men but 2 are sick; drinking their blood would kill them. 4 women, 3 children-"

"No children," he interrupted sternly.

"What?"

"No. Children," he repeated. His face was suddenly dark and brooding. "I'd rather let them tear me apart," he growled. I looked at him; his resolution seemed genuine and absolute. Admirable, I thought.

"It is enough, luckily," he continued. "I don't need as much as you'd think."

I took a deep breath and considered the situation. He was right. That was the worst part. The last time a horde passed through, we lost 3 people just trying to defend the compound. He just fought his way in through about four dozen of them with only a scratch.

I looked him in the eye. Despite it all, hell, despite the fact that his eyes were blood-red, he looked... honest. I extended my hand.

"I'm Abidugun," I said.

"One born before the war," he smiled. "Fitting." Him knowing the meaning of my name put me at ease, somehow. He extended his own hand and shook it.

"Viktor," he smiled, the moon reflecting off of his fangs. "A vampire teaming up with humans against zombies," he chuckled. "Hollywood, here we come."

And, for the first time in what seemed like forever... I laughed.

Dang. That got real. Nicely written'

In the middle of a large, empty field stands a phone booth with no wires leading to it. The phone rings; you answer.

Death to the Corpse Emperor, Papa Nurgle loves me more.

The Flesh Moon arrived with no announcement, no warning. One moment the sky was clear; seconds later, it was there. A writhing mass of flesh, tentacles and sinew the size of the old Moon staring down at us. And its gaze led to change.

Our bodies would twist and contort in manners we'd describe as grotesque; flesh melted into flesh, bones shattered and formed patterns hitherto unheard of. The changes were not uniform, but not entirely random either; most found their newfound bodies to reflect their needs. Soldiers gained a carapace akin to kevlar and muscle mass beyond our previous limits. Surgeons grew extra limbs, runners extra legs and thigh muscle. One thing was consistent, though.

We were all better.

Once, my back would scream in pain the moment I turned too quickly. My eyes would fail me when trying to read anything more than half a meter away. Most importantly... I stood up, leaving that blasted wheelchair behind.

The Moon came suddenly. Yes, we screamed and lamented as we saw our bodies morph, but we now understand the blessing this was. You may call our new forms Chaotic; we'd call them beautiful.

The Imperium doesn't understand. Calls us tainted, heretical, corrupted by Chaos. Nurgle, Tzeentch, Slaanesh - they blame them all. Shortsighted fools, all of them. They'll come to try and destroy our beauty. We won't let them. Even if we are to be named Chaos, we are all together, like family.

We are Chaos Undivided.