Red Markets---Aberrants---Ever-Vec

Upon contracting the Blight, the infected become classified as Vectors die within a few days. They develop into sacks of dead flesh animated by the sinews of Blight that have burrowed throughout their corpses. But on rare occasion a Vector never dies. They never bleed out. They retain the ability to climb, turn door handles and wield simple weapons. In fact, an Ever-Vecs body seems to replace torn muscle with more muscle, making them stronger and faster the longer they are mobile. There are multiple reports of the same Ever-Vec, a huge, mutated mass of Blighted muscle, swinging a parking meter like a club, murdering the inhabitants of the Cursed Settlement in several of its incarnations. 

Red Markets---Aberrants---Empty

Empties are also called blanks, dreamers, pacifists, and downers. They are an unfortunately common sight. 

The same mental remnants that cause casualties to gather in locations that they frequently in life goes haywire in an Empty. They do not bite, hunt or attack. They simply repeat an action over and over, stuck in an endless loop, mirroring an action they performed in life. Sitting in a living room, watching a blank television screen, scrolling on a long dead phone, with baseball glove in hand, waiting for a pitch that will never come. Somehow, these casualties are more haunting than the ones ripping your teammates apart. They are a reminder of the humanity lost and how the creatures you are gunning down may have been your neighbor or family days before.

Red Markets---Aberrants---Scarecrow

Another of the zombie classes that I illustrated for the Red Markets RPG, the Scarecrow. Part of the blight, the zombie virus, creates sinews of necrotic diseased flesh as it courses through the victims system. Sometimes however, the sinews tear through the flesh of their host. In the rare case a casualties sinew roots it to the ground, crucifying it upon its own Blight. The root like growths can radiate out, turning the area around it into a minefield of thorny black vines, ready to burst forth, ensnare and drain any creature with the misfortune of passing near. Entire enclaves have had to be evacuated as the roots of a scarecrow have dug under their crops and fortifications. 

For this one I went for some Struzan inspired, designerly clouds that in the end, Im not entirely sure they worked. I also set the Scarecrow in a patch of earth I spent far to much time rooted to. It seemed far creepier to be set within a heavily developed area instead of a remote rural spot.

Red Markets---Aberrants---Aerosol

The next Aberrant that I painted in Red Markets is the Aerosol.

 In the case of this Aberrant, its a casualty, desiccated and long gone. It barely registers as a threat. Then one of your crew sneezes. Then they all begin to cough. Choke. Blood from the eyes and ears. All begin to turn without having come into physical contact with the infected. For some reason, the rare casualty turns the Blight airborne, infecting all who come close.

I spent the majority of this illustration looking up decent mechanic shop/garage reference photos to make sure that the environment looked accurate without drawing too much attention away from the barely put together zombie. With each scene that I created, if there were just a few or single zombie in focus, I put together a backstory in my mind to make sure their injuries and clothing in the situation made sense.

If you are interested in purchasing Red Markets, you can do so here.

Red Markets---Aberrants---Converts

The convert was my first illustration for the Red Markets RPG. The convert is a zombie (or casualty in the parlance of the game) who keeps its consciousness, but gives itself entirely over to the hunger. It can also control huge armies of other casualties and, no one knows why, is always a child.

From the book:

I watched in shock as the enclave fell. I listened to their screams echo thoughout the valley. Near the end, the horde seemed to lose its focus....

Just as night fell, I watched one wander away. It was a little boy, in pajamas soaked with fresh blood, walking in a straight line though it pursued no prey.. On its head rested a SWAT helmet, dented with bullet impacts. Eventually, it turned. It looked at me. It saw me. The rolling cataracts of its eyes locked on mine. I was recognized, found unworthy, and abandoned as it moved on.....