The Supreme Race excerpt

Their quest against the enemy and his kind is not a nebulous disdain; their hatred is not a general attitude. Sides have been drawn and are known. Labal’s side knows only destruction and decay. Life no longer has any meaning for Labal, although he recognizes that it did once upon a time. Desire, discovery, love—he considers these things mythological and they no longer propel him. Only destruction and decay.
There was no known antidote for the potent neurotoxin, tetrodotoxin—essentially a nerve blocker, which puts their kind in what appears to be a coma-like state. Until last night, when the enemy discovered the antidote. One half milligram; one sip, one injection, one pill will “cure”.
Tetrodotoxin is part of their DNA. It is what makes them who they are. Scientists refer to them as catatonic schizophrenics. Most humans call them zombies. Zombies call themselves the supreme race and they do not want to be “cured”.
Death is what they do. Some would say that death—the walking dead—is what they create. It only takes one bite to infect a human with their toxin. Any defense is futile. The power behind the fist is not important. A sharp blade will fold like foil. Guns are useless, even if the shot is accurate. It doesn’t matter how fast you can run. They will get you. One bite propagates their species.