Flesh of My Flesh: Part One

Alan Nesmith is hungry. In fact, he is STARVING. So are his sons and
daughters. They are starving for food, starving for heat, starving for
medical aid and starving for hope. The past eighteen months have been
nothing but pure hell on Earth for the Nesmith family and literally
every other family out there. The legions of the dead have decimated all
four corners of the globe. Their numbers run close to a billion, while
the human race has dwindled down to a couple of million.

The latest addition to the tragically long list of permanently deceased is
Alan's wife Nancy. Alan and Nancy were high school sweethearts, married
nearly thirty-two years and were the proud parents of seven children.
The Nesmiths lives were sweeter than sweet. They struggled quite a lot
financially but they were wealthy in a different way.  They were
incredibly flushed with love and had the good fortunate to be blessed
with an amazing abundance of wonderful moments together. The Nesmiths
might have been the happiest family on God's Earth.

Now the Nesmith's might be the most heart broken family ever. The youngest(19)
and eldest (33)Nesmith children were devoured by the living dead in a
catastrophic massacre. The middle child, an aspiring grade school
teacher was the first child to die but unlike her siblings her demise
was only momentary. She became a blood-crazed zombie with a body count
numbering in the hundreds and counting. Four of the seven children still
live. The surviving members of the Nesmith clan are holed up in a
fortified bomb shelter. Alan built the subterranean refuge for
protection against nuclear fallout. He never thought in his most
terrible nightmares it would used as sanctuary from armies of flesh
craving corpses.

Most of the resources for survival are near depletion and all the food is gone. It's been gone for nearly five days.
The family's only source of sustenance is water and even that is almost
done. All the remaining family members are in various states of
malnutrition.

The Nesmith's already very bleak situation has gotten even worse.   Beloved wife and mother, Nancy, died just a three
hours earlier of walking pneumonia. Nancy's demise has further
devastated the already ruined family.

Nancy's lifeless body lies in front of Alan on a chilled cot. There are fresh tears rolling down
Alan's hallowed cheeks and a fresh gunshot wound post-death marked in
the middle of Nancy's forehead. The bullet was a loving gift of mercy
given by her husband whose soul is blacker then the waters of Hades.
He's painfully aware that his profound loss will not be the worst of it.
More debilitating despair is coming to him and his falling loved ones.

Alan's utmost concern at the moment is the fate of his wife's body. The
question of what to do is ravaging him inside. He desperately wishes to
give her a proper burial. It is a wish that won't come true. The grounds
outside his home are teeming with the dead. Stepping out means certain
death which is something Alan would now welcome with open arms. The
allure of suicide has amplified several fold since Nancy's death. Alan
is just one fucked up moment away from self obliteration and that moment
might arrive shortly. There is another reason why Alan is unable to
bury Nancy - it was her wish not be buried, cremated or laid to rest in
other traditional manner. Alan had always readily did whatever his wife
asked of him.  But he feels this last time, will be the first time he
fails her.

During the final minutes of Nancy's life, she proposed to Alan a solution which would temporary relieve the family of their
hunger ills. What Nancy told Alan made his blood go cold. Alan couldn't
believe what heard. "She must've been delusional." Alan he thought.
"There's no way she would want me to do this! No way she would want me
and our children to eat her dead body!"   Alan ponders the life and
death severity of the lack of food in the shelter. Maybe Nancy was
thinking straight after all. What's a father to do?