I will take a post to describe one of my many zombies:

A low moaning would be audible, coming from the bar's ruins in a shadow. If anyone were to point at it with a flashlight, a man, barely recognizable as one, would be viewable. The creature would have a face, with parts of it's muscle visible, while it's skin had a shade of green and brown to it, as if it had been buried underground for a week or two. It was missing one hand, the skin where the missing had had been, was gone, revealing a crudely shaped spike, shaped as if it had bit it's own bone in to a spear of sorts. It's clothes had various holes, revealing missing skin and a chunk of missing flesh, a few inches in. It's legs were torn at, although no large pieces were missing. the worst part though, was the chunk of skin it had missing from it's cheek, causing the inside of it's mouth to be visible. the teeth seen through the hole were all sharp, although it wasn't from growing like that. It looked more like they had been clawed at and shaped in to points. {c}

Blood and saliva would slowly drip from the hole in the creatures mouth, it's blood red eyes searching the ruins of the bar for a target. It put it's single hand, to it's head, letting out a lower, inaudible moan of pain. It hurt, and what little it had left of a mind was telling it the only way to stop the pain would be to eat. Eat, kill, survive. The three commands running through it's mind. It knew, deep down, that it wouldn't be able to stop what it planned to do. It had lost it's free will, as soon as it had contracted the virus, becoming, in all effects, a Zombie.