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Zombie Powers? Part 1

The beginning of the End?

Time has paused as a new species has begun to emerge from the depths of the underworld. It rises. It claws it up from the dirt and debris of the gravel poured on top of its lonesome grave. The being emerges after hours of digging, clawing its way to the surface. This new being, what could it want? Who was it? What is it?

Here we find the thing standing, barely, wobbling on legs that have no feeling, no sense of balance, so it wobbles side to side to keep focus on staying still. It swings its arms side to side as it sways. As if without knowing, the being steps forward and stands in front of its grave. An onlooker tells the tale to others from what this onlooker saw, as it seen in disbelief.

Without a word spoken a sun lit day turned to night, no moon, no clouds, but still perfectly bright. Sight was clear, refined as a well-oiled machine, the onlooker gazed in disbelief as the thing moved with no sound, no moan, no crack. The yard was still, no breeze, not a soul around made a noise as to not distract or draw attention to themselves. The onlooker gazed in horror as a moment later it arose another.

But how? What did IT do to make another rise from the grave where time itself ceased its beating heart and stillness covered the land? Was it here, just in the yard where these beings grew legs and rose from a long dead past or everywhere all at once? Was there a way to stop it from happening or were all of humanity on the verge of extinction?


Terror

Here the onlooker watched closely as a third one was about to appear before them. The onlooker watched as movement was speeding up on the first undead as it moved to the grave next to the second. The onlooker noted to itself how the next marker was marked. With arms stretched out before it, the undead making no sound, pointed downward as it had done with the second, then again as before, the undead thing took its time as the outstretched hands to it fingers it then folded leaving the index finger on either hand open or pointing. Then just as slow the fingers at the elbow bent inward and aimed to the sides of the things head. A simple touch on the skull and the thing seemed to think as if it were in a serious conversation, it pointed, touching its skull as then the outstretched fingers then once more pointing toward the grave in front of it and then backed away stand at the end in the aisle where none known buried.

Out from the cold damp ground there were sounds in the silence where wood broke, and steel popped. The fathoms below were once more quaking as the sudden movement from below allowed once more a third rise and stand before the two prior risen dead. Their look, terrifying to the onlooker who though curious and as if in trance, the onlooker unable to look away as if it were a Christian at a suicide, it, the undead called out in a more fearsome guttural sound, invoking the one to its right to leave the party which the first formed and find something that, as the onlooker believed, could use, or eat.

The darkness grew bolder as day became night completely. No sound or sight available to the onlooker who then pulled out their cell phone from their purse and luminated the ground nearby with the tiny light that the cellular device granted. The boldness of the dark blinded the distance around the onlooker who was in a deeper state of denial as this poor onlooker looked around and saw no living soul, no streetlights, stop lights, building lights. Here now the onlooker had a true sense that the terror before was nothing as to what it is now. This onlooker could not find any trace of electric light.

Ashes to Ashes

But then from the ashes of what seemed like humanities decisive moments, a flash of light from the sky, blue, white, red, yellow. All pure of color and fashionably late as if the sky were awakening once more. The light struck and thunder shortly followed. The short burst of light penetrated the sight of the onlooker until it vanished once more leaving an invisible line of sight on the grave marker next to the third. The onlooker knew it was an empty lot, knew the empty lot there were void of human remains because this onlooker’s father had not yet died.

A crunch of a small stack of leaves made the onlooker jump and this onlooker desired to craw away from its skin and curl up in their father’s grave and wait for him. Still the onlooker’s heartbeat beats, pulses. Their blood circulates allowing the fear of the unheard-of night to shift once more magically into the real dead of night as a church bell in the distance was heard echoing across the land. The chiming of the bell counted eleven. The onlooker glanced upward and to their surprise there, in the middle of a starless sky, the moon, Luna, sat gorgeously as if she were awaiting orders from the ones who had risen.

The first one looked to the last of the three as the onlooker took note, then in one swift motion, the three inched toward the onlooker. A grave away but miles from finding this onlooker, their quick thinking hosed their fire ridden center as their worries certainly faded away as this onlooker hid behind a large tombstone. This onlooker knew the row that they stood upon wholly and heartedly, they knew that if they, those walking closer by the second, those that risen from the grave before, this onlooker knew that the closer they got, the more the ability to fight and flee.

Again, the onlooker looked on as the ones who rose crept in, in, closing in, they split up and the onlooker lost sight of them. Glancing as far as their eyes could in the pitch black of the night sky their sight losing track of all three of those who had risen. Here this onlooker sits and waits as their mind produces numerous ways to run away and hide, scream at the top of their lungs letting everyone nearby what was occurring and rescue them from the inevitable.

© 2022 William L Truax III

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