Highschool Of The Dead: Dead Man’s Tale.

Kazuo Tanaka was barreling down the winding forest road, the dim headlights of his truck barely illuminating the dense thickets that bordered the asphalt. Inside the cab, the air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and cigarette smoke, remnants of the long hours he’d spent behind the wheel. The dashboard was cluttered with fast food wrappers and faded photographs of his children, taped up as reminders of what he was working for. Music blasted from the truck’s worn-out speakers, a classic rock tune struggling against the noise of the engine and the whistling wind.

With a frustrated grunt, Kazuo slammed his phone down onto the passenger seat. He had just ended another heated call with his ex-wife, each word exchanged sharper than the last. 

“This world is UNFAIR,” Kazuo exclaimed, his voice echoing through the empty cabin, “I work my BUTT OFF trying to put food on the table, yet I am the incompetent one? I am the one who needs to do better just to see my KIDS—“

As he drove, his thoughts spiraled into dark corners. The endless hours on the road, the backbreaking work, and the fights over custody—it all seemed like a relentless uphill battle. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening as he replayed the conversation in his mind.

Suddenly, a blur of movement caught his peripheral vision. 

Before he could process what it was, leapt into the road. 

Kazuo’s reflexes kicked in; he slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The truck collided with the deer with a horrific thud, the impact sending a jolt through the vehicle. The front grille crumpled on impact as the things body twisted in the air before landing in a heap beside the road.

The truck skidded, tires screeching against the road in a desperate attempt to regain control. Kazuo fought the wheel, his heart hammering in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The truck finally came to a shuddering halt, steam hissing from the battered engine.

For a moment, Kazuo sat in stunned silence, the aftermath of the collision echoing in his ears. His breathing was heavy, his mind reeling from the sudden crisis. The music had been cut off by the impact, leaving only the sound of his own ragged breaths and the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees.

Slowly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air. 

As Kazuo Tanaka stepped out of his truck, a chill swept through him, draining the color from his face as he dreaded the sight that awaited him. He walked around to the front, his steps hesitant, his stomach tight with anxiety. The dim light from the remaining headlight cast eerie shadows across the ground, illuminating the damage in harsh, unforgiving strokes.

He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cool night air, as he took in the sight of the cracked windshield, streaked with dark, coagulated blood that smeared grotesquely across the glass. Despite the damage, he felt a wave of relief wash over him—it could have been worse, much worse.

Kazuo’s relief was short-lived, however, as he turned his attention to the ‘thing’ he had hit. The very thought that it could have been a person made his heart lurch in his chest. Cautiously, he approached the still form lying a few feet from the road, his flashlight trembling slightly in his hand.

The beam fell upon the creature, and Kazuo let out a sigh of relief—it was just a deer. But as the light lingered on the body, his relief turned to confusion and then to horror. The deer looked as though it had been dead for weeks, not merely seconds. Its body was partially decomposed, the fur matted and patches of skin bare where decay had set in. The sight was grotesquely out of place with the freshness of the impact.

Kazuo scanned the surrounding forest, his mind racing with possibilities. Could someone have thrown this rotting corpse into the road as some kind of macabre prank? He shone his flashlight into the trees and down the road, but there was no sign of anyone. The forest returned only silence and the occasional rustle of leaves.

Puzzled and increasingly unnerved, Kazuo pieced together a theory. The deer must have died here, in the middle of the road, which was strange given how busy this road was during the morning. Yet, he distinctly remembered something—a shadow, a form leaping into his path. The dissonance between what he had seen and the state of the deer’s body twisted his gut with a cold dread.

He shivered, not just from the night air but from the eeriness of the situation. His thoughts churned with unsettling questions. How could a decomposing deer suddenly find its way into the path of his truck? Was his mind playing tricks on him, stressed and strained from the argument with his ex-wife? Or was he just somewhat drunk?

Kazuo took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He decided to document the scene with his phone, just in case, his hands slightly shaky as he took pictures of the deer, the truck, and the surroundings. There was no rational explanation for what had happened, and part of him knew he might never find one.

“Stupid thing can’t learn to not run into the roads.” 

He reached down, his hands reluctantly gripping the coarse, matted fur of the deer’s hind legs. As he began to drag the body, the immediate sensation was unsettling—the legs were unnaturally stiff, rigor mortis making them feel like rough, bark-covered branches rather than once supple limbs.

The smell hit him next, a foul stench of decay that invaded his nostrils, thick and pungent enough to taste. It was an odor that spoke of death long settled. The body was surprisingly lighter than most of the dead deer he had encountered before, it’s weight grounding against the gravel with a ghastly, scraping sound that made every pull a strenuous effort. The texture against his palms was grotesque—patches of fur slid off with sickening ease, leaving slick, moist skin beneath that chilled him to the bone.

Focused intently on moving the deer off the road, Kazuo tried to shut out the repulsive sensations and the growing unease. He grunted with the effort, his muscles straining. Just as he managed to drag it to the side of the road, a disturbing sound broke through his concentration—the unmistakable crackling of joints. It was as if the deer’s body was resettling after being moved.

What was that? Kazuo thought, his heart pounding with a sudden surge of fear. He hesitated, then took a cautious step back, but before he could retreat further, a chilling sensation gripped his leg. It felt as though something had clamped down on his ankle. In a reflexive panic, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest as he jumped back, but the weight holding him down was unyielding, and he slammed onto the road hard.

Gasping, Kazuo twisted around to see what had caught him—it was the deer. Inexplicably, its leg was wrapped around his ankle like a vice. His mind struggled to make sense of the impossible as fear paralysed him. 

As he lay there, pinned and helpless, a voice echoed in his head, not through his ears but inside his mind, chillingly clear and terrifyingly close. 

Let those desires out, it whispered, a sinister murmur that felt like the caress of cold fingers down his spine.

The next sensation was sharp and excruciating—an intense pain at his neck as if something were biting into his flesh. Kazuo’s eyes widened in terror, his body frozen not just by the cold or fear, but by the realization of what was happening. The deer, its eyes hollow yet somehow gleaming with a malevolent light, was no longer just a carcass. It was something else, something far more horrifying.

As the darkness began to cloud his vision, the edges of his sight dimming and the sounds of the forest fading, Kazuo’s last conscious thought was.

I hate my life.

Author Note: More chapters on [email protected]/LordCampione.