They left him for undead. But he didn’t die.
He hacked his way through the shambling hoards, and with each swing of the machete he chanted one word:
Revenge on the woman who had been unfaithful. Revenge on the friend who had betrayed his trust.
He finally found them lying in each other’s arms. Dead. Their skin rotted into ribbons.
And though he hacked and chopped at their bones with the machete, their corpses did not cry for mercy or beg his forgiveness.
Until at last he sat and wept. Alone with his hatred.
The last man on earth.
[A story for Chuck Wendig’s latest flash fiction challenge, this one requiring a mere 100 words on the subject of RACHE.]