Zombies on the run

Army

General Smoker eyed his people with a frown from the window of his "office". Everyone was minding their own business, but there was something worrying him: several soldiers had left and were supposed to return at sunset the same day.

That had been two days before.

He was responsable for his people. He knew it. He had to bear the burden of leading his new "army": his soldiers and the few civilians they had somehow managed to rescue. He couldn't rely on civilians. Maybe there was one exception, however...

"Yo, old man, I toldja not to send'em." a feminine voice drawled.

He grunted and spun around, glaring at the woman who had her feet on his desk and her head tilted to the side, expression twisted in a somehow innocent 'I told you so.' She was a civilian, but he treated her like a soldier. His men had found her roughly a year after the zombies had appeared. She was slaying zombies left and right with a samurai sword. Nothing too unusual. What seemed to be unusual, however, was the fact that she seemed to enjoy killing. Rumours said that she had been in a mental hospital before the apocalypse. Her short hair seemed to support that theory. 'God knows where she got that sword from.'

She was a good fighter. In fact, she was brilliant. She was quick and agile, light on her feet and deadly. His men had what to learn from her.

The only problem was that... she was completely and undeniably crazy and sadistic and she would hurt her apprentices during training sessions. Nothing too bad, almost as if she knew she shouldn't. Almost as if, very deep inside, she had an awareness that she would be punished or a conscience. It sounded normal. All people had one. Her, however... she seemed to rather have an inner voice asking her to kill. She would laugh madly as she fought, not stopping until all zombies were gone and she was covered in blood.

"I think we should look for them." he said, trying not to let her intimidate him.

She reacted just as he'd expected her to. She laughed. She laughed so hard she fell out of her chair and didn't stop until several minutes had passed. Then she recomposed herself and gave him a grin.

"They're dead. They're dead and you know it." she said, then chuckled. "But I'll go find their zombie selves and bring them here. Sounds good?"

"You're not going alone."

"You're no fun..." she whined.

"That is of no consequence. A team will be dispatched. You are to obey the team leader." he ordered.

Her eyes narrowed. "Nobody orders me around." Smoker returned her glare. The earlier smile was gone from her face.

"I'm sorry, but living in a society implies that you obey a leader." he said sarcastically.

"Which is you."

"And whoever I tell you to obey."

Smoker raised a gun at the same time she lifted her sword. The woman clicked her tongue against her teeth in displeasure. "Tch." Even she wasn't fond of dying so soon, not from a bullet to the head anyway.

"Miranda, you will obey the team leader." His voice boomed with authority.

"Whatever. Can I ask you something, though?"

"What?"

She grinned madly. "Do you sleep well at night?"

"Get out!"

The woman calmly stood up, smile unwavering. Smoker glared at her until the door closed. That woman had issues. Mental issues. Unfortunately, though, he couldn't just get rid of her. She was too useful. And she knew it.