I was going to start the serial story here, but the weekend got away from me so I wrote this instead. This grew out of a discussion Rebecca and I had in one of the Comments sections. Sometimes the mind goes to weird places when the blood sugar runs low. The serial story will begin on Thursday, after I go back to eating properly.
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A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away …
Princess Leia crouched in the ruins of the jungle hut, her blaster clutched in her hands. Its charge was almost exhausted. If they caught her now, she was dead. Or worse.
Han had been right. She should have brought a squadron. But who would have guessed the virus would spread so fast?
She could hear them lurching through the jungle. Every couple of minutes there was a wet, meaty thunk and a confused, ragged grunt when one stumbled into a tree. She risked a peek through a hole in the hut’s shattered wall.
There were six in this group. More like five and a half: one was missing an arm, part of his torso and a chunk out of his thigh. The others were in relatively better shape, with only bits of body parts blasted or fallen away. Their fur, where they still had it, was brittle and dry. Leia tried not to look at their faces. The sight of missing teeth, the sunken or missing eyes, the unhinged, gaping jaws all tore at her heart.
The zombie virus had hit the Wookiees’ world with no warning, and the population had had no defense. The infection swept over their planet like a tornado.
The lead Wookiee garbled a howl, most of it lost as a wheeze through the hole in his throat. They shambled down the slope, toward the city. Leia held her breath until they were gone.
“Dear gods,” she whispered. “It’s the Wooking Dead … ”
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