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He comes from the grave,his body a home of worms and filth.No life in his eyes,no warmth of his skin,no beating of his breast.His soul,as enpty and dark as the night sky.He laughs at the blade,spits at the arrow, for they do not harm his flesh.For eternity,he will walk the earth,smelling the sweet blood of the living,feasting upon the bones of the damned,Beware,for he is the living dead.




At least fifteen or twenty of them:men,women,children.We opened at seventy,maybe eighty meters.I could see chunks of flesh blasting off thier bodies.Our rounds were hiting thier mark! They kept coming,they just kept coming! I sighted one and let go a full burst from my BXP.I know I snapped his spine,because the man dropped like a leaf.Legs still twiching,he kept crawling after me!At twenty meters,we opened up there backs.I watched limbs literally sawed off at his joints.The SS77 is the best MG ever made,800 rounds per minute, and it wasn't doing a godddamn thing! What grenades we had only downed one of them.One!His mangled body lay motionless with a still-snapping head!(Name Withheld) let go with his RPG.The dann rocket went right right through its soft target and took out a rock behind it!Finally,at five meters,we used the last bit of fuel in the flamethrower!The sons of bitches lit up like tourches but wouldn't stop!One of them grabbed (Name Withheld),setting him on fire as it bit through his neck.I saw the rest of those things surround him as we took off for the jungle,a mob of burning bodies squatting down to tear another screaming human torch apart.Goddamn the devil's mother,what the hell were we supposed to do!?! -Serbian Mercenary during the Zairian Cival War,1994

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