Land of the Undead (part 1)

 I awoke with a jolt, my body jerking upright. Confusion set in, then panic as my body still sat calmly. The last time I tested the hibernation pod, my lungs couldn't wait to evacuate the hibernation slime. Perhaps something went wrong this time? Perhaps I was actually suffocating? Immediately I stuck a finger down my throat. Like clockwork, my body reacted and I began coughing up the neon green slime that made the hibernation pod possible. My hands kept a tight grip on the interior handholds to prevent the natural urge to roll out of the pod and crack my skull on the ground. Slowly I began testing my movements while still lying on my back. The hibernation pod and the chemicals in the slime prevented as much muscle atrophy as possible but it was always best to test the results, especially after sleeping for a thousand years. 

Satisfied, I climbed cautiously out of the pod. Around me, similar coughs and groans echoed the room as my roommates for the passed millennium also awoke from hibernation. Seven others climbed out of their pods, stretching and waking themselves to the tasks we prepared to undertake. The next forty-eight hours would be crucial for us. The pods sustained us while we slept, but now that we were awake we would need to locate shelter and supplies.

"What about them?" asked Denise, motioning to the other five pods, still closed and their inhabitants still inside.

I inspected the five still-sealed pods as well as the electronic pads connected to each of them. Though Dr. Soares made the read-outs easy enough that an idiot like me could understand, I still preferred to put some faith in looking at the bodies inside the pods too. Especially since all five read-outs said their inhabitants were dead. Two were definitely deceased, decomposition slowed over a thousand years by the internal climate-control devices within each pod. The other three, well they could simply be asleep. "We'll have to leave them," I said making my way to the exit. "The computers say they're gone. Even if we forced open the pods, if they don't wake up then we'll be carrying a couple lifeless bodies through the unknown. Best to leave them here for now. Maybe the pod will awaken them as it's supposed to later, or maybe we can find someone in the new world that can do it." As I passed my pod, I picked up a steel spear, made from the same newly forged metal that the pods were built from, one of the few things guaranteed to survive a thousand years into the future. A couple of the others also had bows and arrows made of the same material.

I paused at the shelter door, two feet of steel separating us from the rest of the world for a thousand years. Before we went into hibernation, the world was descending into chaos as the government was on the verge of collapse and society was giving way to anarchy. The zombies, I thought and my body gave an involuntary shudder. The virus had spread worldwide and there didn't appear to be any hope for a cure soon. It was a losing war and so our small group, and probably dozens of other groups throughout the globe, took the only ride out of the madness. We planned for several different scenarios to emerge once we awoke. Would a utopia emerge after humanity eradicated the zombie threat? If the government decided on using nuclear weapons, would we be stepping into a nuclear wasteland? What if the zombies somehow survived after all this time despite the weather and the rate of decay of a human corpse?

"Are you sure it's safe to go out there?" Raymond asked, turning back to look at the pods.

I shrugged my shoulders and placed a hand on the door. "I have no idea. But we can't go back into hibernation, if that's what you're thinking. We're all out of the drugs they used to put us to sleep. Also, the only guy who could operate the machines died a thousand years ago. No, there's no going back." I gave the lock a twist, and pushed the door open.

I stood frozen in the sunlight as I took the time for my eyes to adjust. A humid breeze gusted passed, the smells of nature overwhelming after a thousand years in sterile isolation: a recent rainfall, decaying undergrowth, animal droppings. A howl from something that once might've been a dog. Trees stood taller than any house in the cul-de-sac had ever been, reclaiming the land as their own. And, standing just outside the door were two figures cloaked in some sort of rough fiber or hide, one of them a couple inches taller than me, and the other several inches shorter.

Immediately, my hand gripped my spear tighter. It took me a moment to realize why. Though they appeared as simply two people cloaked from head to toe against the wind, it was the smell of decay that gave them away. Zombies. The thought crossed my mind as a spear lunged forward and hit the taller figure in the chest. Anna always was faster than me.

"Please stop that," said the smaller figure as it pulled back the hood to reveal a clearly deceased man, blackened veins streaking his corpse-pale skin. In his other hand, he cradled a thick, leather-bound book. There wasn't a title, but instead the cover depicted an angry, bestial face that looked almost alive.

The taller figure simply grunted and yanked the spear out of its body, it's chest covered in tattered clothing beneath the cloak. Anna stepped back and I raised my own spear. I heard a couple arrows notched and strings being drawn back. "Sharp but too light," it said as it buried the spear tip in the dirt.

"Wait, the zombies can talk now? What kind of future did we just wake up into?" I heard Raymond ask from behind me as his spear lowered just over my shoulder.

The two figures exchanged a look and the smaller one smirked. "No, not zombies. At least not like the ones brought back from death by the virus. We're ghouls. Undead resurrected by magic to serve a master."

"So there weren't any zombies when we went into hibernation?" said Raymond.

The smaller ghoul shook his head. "Sorry, I think you misunderstand. There were zombies. There are zombies. What I meant is simply we are not zombies."

I knocked Raymond's spear away from my face. "And this master you serve, did he or she send you to get us?" I asked as I planned my next action.

Again the smaller ghoul shook his head. "No, The Master is long dead. Not many things can survive for more than a few centuries, even with magic." The ghoul held out the giant tome to me. "Unfortunately, we still aren't free to die, and in the state we are in, we can't decipher his texts to free us. Hopefully your group may assist us, freeing our souls from these bodies and moving on."

I stood motionless, trying to process everything I just learned. A primal roar erupting from the trees brought me back to the present. "A hunter. Could it be Meyers?" asked the taller ghoul, its hand reaching above it's head to something strapped to its back.

The smaller ghoul just shook his head. "No, Meyers would have kept his hunters quiet until the moment they struck. Probably just a small horde of zombies. They should pass us by."

The grip on my spear tightened again yet my chest was filled with a strange sense of calm. "Sorry, did you say 'zombies'? And what's a 'hunter'? And who is Meyers?"

Both ghouls turned to face me and I saw a look of terror fill the smaller ghoul's face. "Oh no," he said, "the humans."

Another roar exploded from the trees, and from the gloom three shadowed shapes rushed toward us in a barreling charge. "Zombies?" I asked, amazed that the monsters we originally tried to escape from could evolve into such creatures.

"Hunters. A particular mutation of the virus-created zombies. When it consumes enough muscle they turn into those behemoths. We call them hunters. Normally they pass us by since we are dead too. They must sense your group here." The smaller ghoul, now clutching the book tighter to his chest, moved closer to the taller ghoul.

"Don't worry. Though we expected nature to take care of the zombies before we awoke, we did practice for hunting wild game in case civilization collapsed. Taking down a few zombies shouldn't be as hard." I motioned for my team to spread out. Three split off to my right, three others to my left, Anna staying with me and readying a bow.

"These are not like the zombies you encountered before your long sleep," said the taller ghoul as it guided the other to the bunker while it unslung a gnarled branch from its back. "Destroying the brain is still the best way to put them down though."

Books of 2021: Quarter 2

 

 

So, I wasn't going to keep up with doing the book reviews every month as I did for the first three months of the year. This list also includes the first books that I bought from a bookstore since COVID-19, as well as a few re-reads.

Red Sister by Mark Lawrence

"It is important, when killing a nun, to ensure that you bring an army of sufficient size. For Sister Thorn of the Sweet Mercy Convent Lano Tacsis brought two hundred men."

"She had vowed that she would never let a friend down, that she would do anything, anything at all, to protect them. A vow more sacred to her than the Ancestor, more holy than the church from tallest spire to lowest crypt."

On a world orbiting a dying sun, the ice slowly seeks to cover all of the planet. Life struggles to survive on a thin stretch of land encircling the globe only a couple miles wide. Nona Grey is saved from the hangman's noose and taken in by the Convent of Sweet Mercy to train to become a nun. It is here she'll be raised and trained in the ways of blade and poison and magic, for any Sister of Sweet Mercy is a force on her own. But Nona's enemies are powerful and patient, and will seek her out for revenge.

Grey Sister by Mark Lawrence

"There is a purity in rage. It will burn out sorrow. For a time. It will burn out fear. Even cruelty and hatred will seek shelter, rage wants none of them, only to destroy. Rage is the gift our nature gives to us, shaped by untold years. Why discard it?"

"At a separation of three yards and driven with the speed of a hunska full-blood Kettle's throwing stars allowed no opportunity for evasion. The left one would hit the closest woman somewhere in the neck; the right one would take the other woman in the right eye. Kettle was more accurate with her right arm."

Two years have passed since Nona Grey got her revenge on Raymel Tacsis, and the shipheart was stolen from the Convent of Sweet Mercy. Nona graduated from Red Class to Grey Class. Along with her previous studies, Nona will now learn new arts such as disguise, magical threadwork, and training with a sharpened blade to further hone herself into a weapon of the Church. The ice however continues to squeeze the world tighter and the country is being invaded from all sides. Also sitting outside the convent is the stolen shipheart and the murderer of Nona's friend. To get her revenge, retrieve what was stolen, and possibly save her country, Nona must leave the safety of the convent for the outside world.

Holy Sister by Mark Lawrence

"Perhaps no battle so ugly had ever played out across the Blade Hall sands before. But the simple fact was that Sister Iron, the presumptive Mistress Blade, retreated before the sword of Nona Grey, her own hair wet with sweat now. Sister Iron's own swordwork was now stretched to extravagant lengths, all within a packed handful of seconds that few possessed the vision to follow."

"Nona scanned the forces arrayed before her. She felt her devils moving beneath her habit, their voices crying out for blood, and she found herself in agreement. The Book of the Ancestor says that for everything there is a season. This was a time to reap. A time for death. A time to die."

The ice closes on The Corridor from the north and south, continuously forcing everyone closer together into the only land touched by the moon. Within the walls of the Convent of Sweet Mercy, Nona Grey completes her trainee period and must decide which habit to take up and how best to serve The Ancestor. Meanwhile, her enemies are both invading from outside the borders as well as scheming from within their walls. To bring peace, Nona and her friends need to uncover the mysteries and secrets of the moon high above Abeth, and the Ark hidden deep within the Emperor's Palace.

 
The last book of Mark Lawrence's "The Book of the Ancestor" trilogy. The book jumps between the present as Nona Grey completes her lessons in Holy class and takes her orders as a full nun of Sweet Mercy, and the escape from Sherzal's forces from three years prior that concluded "Grey Sister." A different set-up from the previous two books that mostly stayed in the present except for a couple excerpts chronicling the future (or present day from the perspective of "Holy Sister") attack on the convent. Like the conclusion to Lawrence's Broken Empire trilogy, the ending is such an epic culmination of all the prior events and the changes to the protagonist's character that the actions taken come as such a perfect surprise. The only downside to the story was my own impatience, not letting the story unfold word by word as it should. To explain, though I read this book after re-reading the first two, I originally read "Grey Sister" about two years ago. That's a long time to wait to see how one child can bring peace to a dying world. Because of this, I found my eyes constantly jumping from the page I was currently on to skim through words on the next page that popped out as something important, like looking for a constant teaser about what happens next. I guess it also doesn't help that this is the first book I bought since 2020, the first one of a batch I bought from Barnes and Nobles, and I guess I'm anxious to get to all the others as well.

Another of Lawrence's post-apocalyptic-style stories, the setting is a character itself. Lawrence imagines a world orbiting a dying sun and what that means for life on that planet. Most post-apocalyptic settings use desert wastelands filled with sand dunes and wrecked structures. Starting from  "Red Sister" life only survives with the help of an orbiting giant mirror magnifying the sun's heat and driving back the ice. Everything in the band thrives as it should, but outside it the ice has covered the ground miles deep. It is this world that four original races arrived from the skies and settled on this world. Each race had their own unique physical or magical trait, and blending them allowed all four to survive on this harsh world. The history itself that Lawrence creates is fascinating to read and learn.

From his other two trilogies, I know that Lawrence has a way with writing fight scenes, but I only remembered why (again) when re-reading these books. It's not necessarily the fight itself, which can be extremely hard and, honestly, boring if you're just describing the characters' movements and strikes. No, it's the words inbetween, the ones that add meaning and suspense and thrill to the fight that make them so good.

Gone Tomorrow by Lee Child

 

 

"Suicide bombers are easy to spot. They give out all kinds of telltale signs. Mostly because they're nervous. By definition they're all first-timers."

"'It will help me if your guys grab them up, I don't want to have to shoot them all.'
     'Got a conscience?'
     'No, I've got thirty rounds of ammunition. Which isn't really enough. I need to parcel it out.'"

Riding the New York City subway at 2am, Jack Reacher finds himself on a train with five strangers, one of them matching the profile for a suicide bomber: all 11 points of a checklist distributed throughout the military and law enforcement. Of course Reacher attempts to diffuse the situation except he finds his assessment wrong. His actions though drag him into a far reaching conspiracy, stretching not just between eyes from Washington D.C. to Afghanistan, but actions that happened 30 years ago that could easily reshape the present day. Everyone thinks that Reacher has something and they're all stepping out of the shadows to come after him.

Finally, another Jack Reacher novel! After spending all of 2020 re-reading old books without a Jack Reacher book, I finally made it outside to a bookstore for the next book in the series. As always, the books are entertaining with the same type of vigilante justice, violence, and tactical knowledge I've come to expect from the "Jack Reacher" movie but also like "John Wick" and "The Equalizer." Lee Child does a great job putting action on the page, balancing movements with a brief explanation on their necessity that keeps the story moving without bogging it down. That said, the other half of a great mystery novel is trying to solve the case with the clues as they're presented, hopefully solving the mystery before the protagonist (which, once again, I failed to do). From the very start, the clues are dispersed and I once again learned it'll take a better eye than mine to solve it. Suspicions, of course, can only get you so far to finding the truth.

Peace Talks by Jim Butcher

"Wizards live a long time, and they don't do it by taking unnecessary risks. If you look up unnecessary risk in the White Council's dictionary, my picture is there. And my address. And all my personal contact information. And my permanent record from middle school."

"The old man glowered at me and thrust out his jaw. 'Boy, tell me you ain't dumb enough to try this.'
     The Winter mangle immediately bayed for blood, for defiance, for violence.
     I started drawing for power.
     'Oh, I'm more than dumb enough,' I said through clenched teeth."

A negotiation has finally been announced between the Fomor and the rest of the supernatural community, and it's just Harry Dresden's luck that the talks are being held in his town, Chicago. As a representative of both The White Council of Wizards and of Mab and the Winter fae, Dresden's job is to keep the peace and make sure everything goes smoothly. Of course, nothing is ever easy for Dresden and a new mystery presents itself at the same time, a mystery Dresden must solve or risk losing his brother. 

The sort-of newest Dresden Files book in the series ("Battlegrounds" in hardcover came out sometime last year too but I'm still waiting on the paperback). It's the newest one I've got and why I spent the first six months of last year re-reading ALL 15 of the previous novels in the series. I also went out to Barnes and Nobles the week it was released in paperback to pick it up, and spent a good 10 minutes trying to figure out the new shelving system just to find it. After the heist-style story of the previous novel, "Peace Talks" puts the storyline back in the battle against the returned Fomor, a supernatural group that had retreated into the depths of the ocean when humanity began gaining their hold on the world. Though the Dresden Files has been running for 16 books, this is the first one that really feels like it ends on a cliffhanger. Having listened to several interviews with Jim Butcher, it does make sense as the storyline should be approaching a sort-of climax based on the plans he's revealed for the future of the series.

Maybe it was just because I waited so long for the next book, or maybe I'm just nostalgic for how the series used to be (Dresden taking on a monster of the week while solving a mystery) but this wasn't one of my favorites. I understand that the previous formula of Dresden being assigned a supernatural case that leads him to a greater understanding of the magical world is gone, replaced by things much bigger and more dire, but I still miss those stories. In regards specifically to this story, there was a good chunk in the beginning I felt was unnecessarily long though I understand its importance to the rest of the story. I probably would've tried to shorten the section, or cut it out somehow while still keeping the information the reader gathers from that part of the story (though I've never finished a story so of course, don't listen to me).

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

 

"God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players, to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time."

"There were five billion people down there. What was going to happen soon would make barbarianism look like a picnic - hot, nasty, and eventually given over to the ants."

The end of the world is upon us, as accurately predicted by a 16th century witch. The Antichrist has arrived on Earth ushering in the end times. A Hellhound is set out to great its master. After bidding their time doing what they do best, the Four Horsemen are also setting out to start humanity's end. Heaven and Hell are preparing for the last great battle. An angel and a demon though, having lived on Earth since The Beginning and having grown quite fond of their time here, set out to ensure that the apocalypse doesn't happen. Except one thing is derailing their plans: it seems that no one knows where the Antichrist really is.

For a book written by two people, the writing blended really well in that I couldn't tell it was written by two authors. Having read a bunch of books by Gaiman, I could pick up some of the elements of his writing, for example, transforming already established ideas and concepts in a way I've never thought of before. Having never read any Terry Pratchett but having watched the first season of "The Watch" by BBS, I could definitely pick out the side humor put in by Pratchett, like the author is making fun of his or her own characters in such a way that none of the story characters are even aware. The story blended their writing styles very well to create something so good and wouldn't be possible without the two of them working together. 

Originally I'd meant to re-read this book BEFORE watching "Good Omens" the show on Amazon Prime but I was still in the middle of reading another book and besides, this book was too far under my bed to conveniently retrieve. The show and the book are basically the same in terms of story and theme. I think the book though has more jokes that the show didn't have, either because of time constraints, they just couldn't be fit in, or just wouldn't be funny to today's audience (the book was published in 1990). I think the main thing I'm sad that got cut from the show was the side remarks (because even in the book we never meet him) about Greasy Johnson - the third boy at the hospital during the baby swap scene.

Also, when I mentioned earlier that it was in an inconvenient place, I meant that it hidden in a box with other books I haven't read for a long time under my bed blocked off by a bunch of other crap next to it. And by a long time, I mean that I've had this book for over ten years now, as you can see from the yellow coloring on the pages and how every page turn felt like it might tear. Still a great book to read though.

Zombie Bite (part 2)

Finally I spoke. "I can't stay here," I begged, surprising the other man. "The horde is close. I can hear it. Take me with you."

The man stared at me in shock before shaking his head. "No, I can't. There will be too many questions and I don't have all the answers. I need you to stay. Don't worry, you're safe here," was all he said before once again grabbing his things and leaving me behind, alone in the room.

But I knew I wasn't safe here. I wouldn't be safe anywhere it seemed. No longer a part of the horde, I would simply be prey to them. Other humans wouldn't understand what I was, and fear and ignorance wasn't a good way to approach them.

Alone and unchained, but unsure where to I could escape, I stared out the window. Outside fires burned where I assumed the other human encampments might be. Zombies roamed the streets, their teeth chattering and ever alert to sounds of their prey. Perhaps they could forgive and welcome me back if I just showed I was one of them, that I never meant to leave the horde, that I was taken from them. Yes, as the horde we were strong, invincible, unafraid. The horde feared nothing and no one, and never had anyone been turned aside from their ranks. Yes, the horde was where I belonged and surely would welcome me back into them.

The man again returned the next day with supplies. Before he could speak, I asked, "Have you tried biting another zombie yet? Did they revert to their human selves as well?"

The man closed his eyes, a shiver climbing up his spine as he took a breath. "Just one other right after I bit you. It was older, I guess, and was already injured. He changed back but succumbed to the bullet holes puncturing his chest. He bled out in front of me and there was nothing I could do." The man's eyes met mine and I could see that there was something worse coming. "Before he died, he told me, begged me to let him die. Said he remembered it all, being a zombie. The screams of his children as he set into them, the taste of their flesh. 'The Hunger' he repeated as he struggled to stop me from applying pressure to his wounds. He was terrified. I don't think I can do that to anyone else."

His body convulsed in horror and he doubled-over, vomiting on the hardwood. I moved in closer to see tears and puke splatter on the floor. I waited. There was still one more question I needed answered. After a while, he straightened, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket. His eyes widened and his body recoiled in shock when he realized how close I'd gotten. "Do you remember being a zombie as well? Everything you did? I'm so sorry bringing you back to relive it all."

I ignored his questions and his sympathy. "Have you told anyone else about what you could do? About what they might be able to do?" I asked, my hands reaching out to him desperately.

The man reeled back, slapping my questing hands away. "Do you remember being a zombie?" He asked again, though with not the same amount of conviction he possessed the last time.

"Did you tell anyone?" I asked, louder this time as my hands sought again to grab him.

His eyes widened and I could see an understanding come across his face. "You remember," he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Did you tell anyone?" My voice filling the room as my hands finally latched onto his shirt.

"No, I couldn't. I wouldn't let anyone do what I did to another person. I'm so sorry."

My hands shook him hard, then slammed him against a wall. "Sorry for taking me from the safety of the horde, kidnapping me into this terrifying world where I'm just meat?"

Confused, he said, "No, for bringing you back along with all the the things you've done." Another moment of clarity washed over his face as I bore down upon him, my body pinning his to the ground. My teeth parted flesh as I bit into his throat. I tasted metal as blood filled my mouth. Though The Hunger no longer drove my actions, I still attacked with the same ferocity I once possessed. I tore away, ripping apart a piece of the man in the process. My hands held him as my teeth ground his body down, and I let it slide down my throat. For his part, the other man struggled, he pleaded, just as prey should. He tried to escape but I was determined and he was losing blood.

I leaned back against the wall and watched and waited, eyes focused intensely on the body before me. If a bite from a human could take me from the horde, could my bite still bring someone into the horde? The light made its way across the room until darkness once again filled the room. The corpse continued to simply lie still, inert. I felt something inside me break and I bolted upright. My fists pounded themselves into the walls and countertops. I took objects into my hands only to smash them on the ground. Taken from the horde, I could no longer bring anyone into its glory.

Then I heard it. The familiar chattering of teeth and shuffling of unsteady feet. My brethren. Down several flights of stairs I flew until I emerged back on the street. Before me stood a small group of zombies, members of the horde eternal. I let out a shout, clapped my hands, stomped my feet, offering myself to their Hunger. Though I could no longer feel it, I knew The Hunger had taken notice, the zombies shuffling to me. I felt their hands take hold. Then came the teeth, eruptions of pain where they tore into me. Something inside me screamed to run, flee from the pain but I dismissed it. This was the initiation into the horde, the same as I'd endured before to join their safety, and I'd suffer it again and again. My legs went weak and I collapsed on to the pavement, bodies piling on top of me. But soon I'd rise strong once more. My vision darkened and soon I'd awaken to pain being nothing more than a memory. We were the horde, and we were invincible.

 

From a Reddit Writing Prompt about being chased by a zombie and, in a last-ditch effort, decide to bite the zombie first. This is actually a prompt that comes up what seems like once a month, and I actually started it a couple months ago when I saw roughly the same prompt pop-up. The original version though was from the POV of the guy who bites the zombie. It was going well and I was almost done but when I got to the end I couldn't figure out how to show increasing paranoia from the outside. I decided it would look better from the POV of the zombie turned human so I decided not to finish the story and would do a re-write. Then I did nothing with it because well other things. Then the prompt appeared again so I decided that was a good excuse to go back and finish the re-write. Of course without a background in psychology and my general obliviousness to my surroundings and others, I'm really not sure if I captured the main character's fear and growing paranoia properly, but that's going to require either going back to school or actually paying attention to people and I'm not interested in either at the moment. I'm also told that you can't observe your own paranoia since crazy people don't think they're crazy so I guess that method of research isn't going to work too well. Also if you're curious, yeah, I'm impressed I went three weeks in a row with a post. Sure last week's had been written for  weeks prior and I had the bare bones of this story sitting around for months but still I'm on my way to making this a weekly thing (just another thing for you to scroll past) as I always intend to do. And then once I talk about it I'll always find an excuse to break my writing habit. I can already feel a cold coming on. Luckily next week's is almost done as well so that should cover that. Also, if you're thinking that means I'm going to put more effort into the following post with all the extra time, you really should be reading something else.

Zombie Bite (part 1)

Our horde spilled into the city like a flood. Our prey ran with heavy steps and panting breaths. These were the sounds of food, the trails they left for us to follow. Here and there, small packs broke from the horde to give chase down alleys and into buildings, like blind fingers hunting for the very last cookie in a jar. We were one being, and though one or two or twenty might be brought down, they are soon replaced. We are strong, we feel no pain, we are invincible.

We chased the fleeing sounds down an alleyway. A deafening boom and one of our numbers is slowed but not stopped for pain is no longer a deterrent. Another boom and one of ours drops from the horde. No loss for we are many. We continue forward to our prey now scurrying out of the sunlight. More noises, more of us disappear. We pay no heed for The Hunger drives us all. It is that which gives the horde meaning, purpose. Finally hands are placed upon the prey but our teeth cannot find flesh. It struggles, holding us back and denying us our prize. It matters not as its strength will inevitably wane and soon we shall satisfy The Hunger.

We feel a pressure clenching at my arm. I look down to find a sensation like I haven't felt in a lifetime. A shockwave of agony radiates throughout my body, forcing me away from our prey and onto the wooden floorboards.

Suddenly, I'm awake again, my heart pounding in my chest. I gasp as air stings through pathways left too long unused. My eyes blink, bringing the world into focus. A man stands above me, his hands moving, connecting two items together. It takes another moment for my brain to work out the puzzle before me. I raise my arms as the other man points the reloaded gun at my face. I shut my eyes and try to tell him to stop but the only noise I can make is a wheezing sound.

The bullet doesn't come. Instead, something wet splashes on my face. A small drop of blood. A deep bite mark cut into my skin. A piece of dead flesh hanging from the lip of the other man.

"What's going on, zombie? Are you human again?" the man with the gun says wiping away the dead skin with one hand while his other keeps the gun trained on me as if expecting us, no, me, me to lunge hungrily at him.

I stare back, no longer connected to the horde, no longer driven by The Hunger. My throat and mouth still not used to forming words, I just nod. The gun still trained on me, I'm terrified. Depending on the bullet's trajectory, much more than simply death awaits me. He grabs an arm and pulls me to a pipe running vertically through the wall of the room. A cuff goes around my wrist, and another anchors me to the pipe. The man stares at the bite mark on my arm, then touches his mouth. "I'm not sure what is going on, but I need you to stay here until I can sort this out."

Alone in the apartment, the night settles across the city. Silence dominates the room but outside it was punctuated by unsettling sounds. The howls and screams of stray cats and dogs roaming the streets. Crashes and bangs the sounds of humans doing their best to survive the apocalypse around them. Worst of all, the shuffling footstep, origins unknowable from my spot in the room. Whether they belonged to other zombies or other humans, either presented a threat to me. No longer part of the horde, The Hunger would set my former kin against me. Other humans, already untrustworthy in my life before joining the horde, should be treated with more suspicion in this new world.

I sat tense, waiting in the darkness, unable to find either peace or sleep. Images of my previous life floated through my mind: shambling after other humans, my hands tightening, my mouth filled with their meat, screams unheeded now piercing my ears. Through it all though, was the feeling of safety. There were no secrets, no deceptions, no betrayals within the horde, all of us driven similarly by The Hunger. We were one.

The morning light made it halfway across the room before the man returned. As the door creaked open, my body jumped and was immediately yanked back down my the anchoring pipe. "Looks like you're still human." The man tossed me a bottle of water which I guzzled down greedily. Though a human's needs weren't as strong or driving as The Hunger, I still found them formidable, devouring the canned meat thrown to me next. "I haven't had any luck cornering another zombie to see if biting it might turn it human too. And I haven't told anyone about you yet. If they think that just biting all the zombies will turn everyone back, it'll cause a riot. I just need more answers first."

I nodded along in agreement, too scared still to leave the room much less meet with other humans. Who knows what they'll think of a zombie turned human. Maybe they'd rather have revenge for those we'd, I'd probably eaten rather then answers. No, isolation was the safe play.

Our arrangement continued like this a while: I stayed hidden and he'd continue to bring me supplies, sometimes daily or sometimes with enough food and water to last for days when he knew he wouldn't be able to sneak away. At night, the images of what I'd done would come back to me, and I'd sleep in the memories. Soon though the noises outside changed from merely ambling footsteps to the distinct and constant chattering of teeth. The horde roamed the city, no longer sweeping through en masse but spreading over it, through it like a puddle seeping wherever it could go, hunting for food.

Backpack Memorial

 

 

So, about two months ago (shut up, I had other things that I was failing to write, but mostly I dreaded going through those old pictures ... ugh just look at that guy), the zipper on my backpack broke. I was just pulling the zipper open, nothing that I hadn't done a million times, and it just came apart. If you've been on vacation with me, went to school with me, worked with me, or have just known me within the last 15 years, you know which backpack. Though one of the pockets now won't close all the way, it isn't completely unusable. I'm not sure if it's repairable, mostly because I'm stupid. Anyways, after surviving this long, I guess I should write some sort of eulogy/ relive some memories before it disappears either into my closet (if I can trick myself that it's still usable) or into the trash.

Yes, I know how weird this entire post is. I'm attempting to write a memorial for a backpack that doesn't give a shit what I say about it, or, more likely after having held my notebooks for over a decade, would rather me not say anything knowing how terrible at writing I am. It was weird going through so many old photos to see if anyone captured a picture of me with my back turned, or if I happened to put my bag down so it's still in the shot. It's also weird that for something I've had since highschool, I can't think of really stand-out significant stories that focus on my backpack. It's been with me through highschool, college, study abroad in Japan, Portland, Seattle, New York (sort-of, I think most days of that trip I carried a drawstring bag), Australia, Seattle again, Japan again, and Korea, and not to mention every single day at this job I've been at for almost 10 years now. I guess the best stories to tell are the times when it really came through for me, whatever that means exactly.

On just a day to day basis, my backpack was responsible for carrying so many things necessary to my daily survival. Items of note include my notebooks and spare pens for when inspiration or boredom strike, whatever book I happen to be reading so I can further avoid participating with society, my phone charger because PokemonGo drains my battery so fast these days, and my hoodie for those odd days when the office A/C is much colder than usual.

There was the time that all I had was my backpack and its contents when Terry and I took a week-long trip to Kyoto (it probably wasn't a week but I know if I start re-reading the journal I kept then I'm going to keep on reading and not finish this stupid post). Not needing an entire suitcase of stuff for just a week of adventure, I managed to stuff my backpack with a week's worth of supplies. Of course, most of it went into a locker at the hostel but the bag came with me as we traveled around Kyoto, Nara, Osaka ... other places (now I can't remember, fuck I'm getting old). Also, just to amend my earlier statement, looks like it was just three or four days at least based on the folders I sorted my pictures from the trip, but that's still a good-sized side quest, right?

Backpack and I also hiked Mt. Fuji with a group while studying abroad, originally starting by holding my hoodie, an extra t-shirt, some snacks and water bottles. That was also when I learned that the reason people hike Mt. Fuji during the summer is not because it's cooler to be on the mountain than in the hot and humid city, but because the weather will kill you at other times. That said, I packed light, leaving behind my actual heavy jacket because I thought I'd be sweating on the hike and I didn't want to carry so much stuff through Tokyo to the bus station. Upon arrival at the freezing mountain though, I immediately emptied by backpack of everything I could wear. The extra shirt and hoodie made the hike survivable but not at all comfortable. Actually, I take that back. The first thing I did after getting off the bus was ask some guy where I could smoke (poisoning my lungs before trekking up a mountain, stupidity really should've killed me off by now). We managed to beat the sunrise to the ... well not quite the top but as high up as we were going to get.

Still on the topic of hiking (which I guess is where backpack stories truly shine), a couple friends and I went exploring the summer palace years and years ago. As we wandered around (I'm not sure what exactly we were looking for) we got lost trying to find our way back to the highway. Then the rain came and drenched us. Lost in the woods and wet, I thought we were going to end up as another story of dumbass hikers needing to be rescued by helicopter. By pure luck (we had no idea where we were going) we managed to find our way out and back to our cars. And, through it all, my bag managed to protect my cigarettes from getting soaked, which I remember being extremely thankful for.

I guess now that we're talking about protecting my stuff from the elements, I'll just quickly mention some notable rain storms that my backpack saved my stuff: That one time I stupidly thought I could walk from Keio University back to the dorm which I think was 14 kilometers or something like that and the rain caught me a couple hours into the walk; My first night in Seattle (the second time) coming back from my friends' apartment and wandering the long way around instead of a straight line from the bus station back to the motel; That one day in my Korea trip that I refused to stay at the hostel all day and headed out into the rain to spend several hours in a library (the housekeeper later looked at me like I was an idiot for not taking any of the free umbrellas).

Finally (or maybe I should've put this in the beginning... oh well too late now), if you cared (and I guess to fill space), about those pictures (from top left clockwise): Feeding deer in Nara; Gundam exhibit at a Uniqlo; Me and the Coronal; waiting for the train from Portland to Seattle; Spark of writing inspiration in Korea; Group picture in Australia; Me and slinky in Enoshima; On the steps of the Sydney Opera House; Tour guide for visiting Japanese highschoolers; ... I'm not sure but I think it's Jiyugaoka; Crossing the street in Kamakura; after classes at UH. Background: Changdeokgung Palace.

When you're trying to give an exam but your students keep getting summoned as chosen ones to other realms (part two)

Instantly, wards and barriers of all shapes and sizes and colors sprung up into existence, shielding me from the magical blast. The temperature in the room rose several degrees as Keisha, Anna, and a couple of the other students began chanting and charging and weaving together their magical spells. Swords and knives hissed out of their scabbards as the students wielding them rose from their chairs. Plasma rifles and nano-machines were pulled from pocket dimensions as Jasmine used her cybernetic eye to direct those students around the classroom while maintaining lines of sight on their target.

"You walked into the wrong room, motherfucker!" shouted Xander, his boxed AI expanding around him into a fully mechanized battle-suit.

"Language, Xander. The next time it's detention," I said from behind the shields. My eyes glared at the gleaming metal armor until I saw its shoulders drop into Xander's typical slouch. I turned my attention back to the Demon King. "He's not wrong, though. This is not the classroom you want to be starting a fight. Every one of these kids are heroes in their own right." I saw a gleam in not a few of the students' eyes and let out a sigh. After all, it isn't often that they get to speak their names and titles in our world.

Blue runes glowed all over Anna's skin as raw magic wove into a spell between her fingers. "Anna the Wanderer, Healer of the Grorder Fields, Mother to the Silenced, Slayer of Filliux the Dragon."

"Battle Queen Keisha, Savior of Hessia, Holder of the Final Line, the Goddess's Hand, Blade in the night," said Keisha with a mystical arrow drawn in a bow also made of pure magic.

"Sir Kevin, spymaster of Sir Arthur, forgotten knight of the Round Table, and defender of Camelot," said Kevin, his sword raised.

The weapons on the battle suit lowered slightly. "Uh, I'm Xander. I just got this suit for helping some kid with his history report on the 20th century. Apparently every kid in the future has one just lying around."

The Demon King growled, a low rumble in the back of his throat before slowly raising his massive hands in surrender and returning into the abandoned chair. The rest of the class remained standing, ready for combat. I set my gaze upon each of them in turn. "Class, please return to your tests," I said before turning back to my desk at the front of the room. It took another minute or two but eventually the students stowed their respective weapons and returned to their exams.

Ten minutes passed in relative silence, quiet except for the sounds of pencil scratches and the occasional groan. "Why do you make them do this?" asked the Demon King, "If they are the heroes you claim, why not train them in combat?"

Several eyes peeked up at the Demon King's question, and I knew not a few of them wondered the same thing. "Simple. I'm a teacher. This is my job."

"Why not teach them then how to wield sword or bow? Or drill them upon military tactics and strikes?"

I shrugged. "That's not in the school's curriculum." I saw more eyes on me now than on their tests. "It isn't my place to teach those things. Wherever these children end up, it will be up to them to figure out how to handle the situation they are faced with. The best way to do that is by learning. I'm not just teaching them math and history and chemistry, but also simply how to learn."

At that moment, another brilliant flash filled the room, this one a blinding white. Again, I needed to blink away the glare, this time finding Maria looking exactly how she left now back at her desk and the Demon King gone. Before I could say anything, Maria was out of her seat and storming to the front of the class.

"You fucking idiot!" she shouted, slapping Billy across the face. A couple of the students gasped while the rest fell silent, letting the lone sound of Maria's heavy, angry breathing fill the room. A realization fell across her face and her features reverted back from pure, seething anger to the shy, quiet kid with which I was familiar.

"Detention, Mr. S. You heard her," said Xander, breaking the tension and causing a few stifled laughs amongst his classmates, including Maria.

"Shut it, Xander," I said with a smile myself before gesturing to Maria, permission to continue.

She took a breath and nodded, again finding her confidence within her justified outrage. "You led the legions through the Undercaves of Merg, murdering hordes upon hordes of orcs on your way to the Demon King's castle."

"So what," Billy said, rubbing his cheek. "Orcs make up the bulk of the Demon King's army."

"The orcs in his army are with the army, not the ones simply making their homes in the Undercaves. The legions killed so many it was practically a genocide. Do you even understand the role orcs play in the ecosystem of Abaloth?" Tears started to form in Maria's eyes but she held them from falling and continued on. "Orcs are strong, tough, eat almost anything, and breed quickly. You know what else does those things? Tetrok rock spiders, Grovi venomous slugs, Sterbenzia wolves, and a whole bunch of other creatures with no natural predators except for orcs. We had a hell of a time culling their numbers while the orc population recovered and rebounded. Luckily, I guess, you did at least manage to defeat the Demon King because he was no where to be found."

Anna let out a cough. "Umm, he was actually here with us. Switched places with you when you got summoned."

Maria glared at Billy, her eyes narrowing as rage again consumed her face. Finally, she just threw her hands in the air, let out a groan, and stomped back to her desk.

The class immediately broke apart: some crowded around Maria, excited to hear her tale about the adventure, others huddled together to talk strategy in case anything like the Demon King came to our world again. And before I could get the class settled once again so we could finish the exam, Billy again vanished into thin air. Exhausted, I just sank into my chair and stared at the ceiling. Maybe we'll finish the test tomorrow.

From the Reddit Writing Prompts, something about you giving an exam when suddenly one of your students vanishes only to return covered in blood (it was a really long prompt). For the most part, the story followed exactly where I had planned from the start when I first read the writing prompt: it was going to be about a teacher whose students were "chosen ones" that keep getting summoned to other realms. Originally I did hope to write it with a more comedic tone (the kids constantly skipping class when they're summoned away, using the time they're gone to cheat on homework or study for tests, etc) but comedy is hard (constantly overthinking if jokes are funny). Plus it was making the story even longer so I cut the stuff I wrote or just didn't write out certain things. Of course, the hardest (and funnest) part of writing this was just coming up with the names and titles for the kids to have. I always suck at coming up with names, but it was fun this time to come up with their titles, until, of course, I took it too far and started trying to come up with backstories for the kids on how they gained these titles, forgetting that this is just supposed to be a dumb practice story. It's not as if I haven't been writing, it's just that I'm too lazy to type after spending eight hours in front of a computer screen. Also, I had a few setbacks in other stories that I was working on that needed to be redone instead of finished (I'll get to them eventually).

When you're trying to give an exam but your students keep getting summoned as chosen ones to other realms (part one)

I paced between the desks from one side of the room to the other, watching every movement of my students' hands and heads. Once I completed the circuit, I walked back to the front of the classroom. "Thirty minutes left," I said as I tapped the chalkboard for emphasis. Pencils scratched faster and a grumbled murmur spread throughout the class. Then I noticed Billy. One moment he was struggling through an exam I knew he didn't study for. The next moment he was tossing his pencil, notebook, and exam into his backpack, tugged on his jacket, stood up, and just vanished.

I cocked my head quizzically at the situation. The other students that might've noticed put their heads back down and carried on with their exams. A moment later, Billy reappeared drenched in blood, some of it dripping onto the floor. Besides the blood, a few tears in his school uniform, and the patchy stubble growing on his face, he didn't appear much different than when he disappeared. He gave me a brief, sheepish grin, pulled the exam and a pencil from his bag, and started again on his test.

"Wait a moment," I said as I rapped my knuckles on the wooden desk, "You know the drill." An unintelligible grumble swept the class as well as a few sighs of relief. "Don't get too comfortable. You will complete your tests right after we finish." A large binder came out of the locked drawer at the bottom of my desk.

"Aww, come on Mr. S," Billy said with his pencil still in hand. "I really want to finish the test."

I nodded along, skeptical. "I'm sure you do," I said, making a mental note to check that no dwarves or elves helped him on his chemistry exam, "but you know we do this every time one of you is transported to a fantastical world."

"Any fantasy world," Anna said, glowing blue runes lining her face and arms.

"Or historical past," said Kevin, a long sword leaning against the side of his desk.

"Or a technological dystopia," said Jasmine, her cybernetic eye gazing back at me.

"Or the far future," Xander said as he attempted to again hide the boxed AI that he used to cheat on tests.

Billy just groaned and dropped his pencil on to his desk. "Fine, I was summoned by the Kingdom of Latmier to help them vanquish the Demon King."

At the word "Latmier" I pointed to Keisha on the other side of the classroom. "Latmier," she said, "is one of the kingdoms on the continent of Abaloth in the land of Cenkorham, bordering the Kingdom of Hessia."

"Got to visit Hessia for a minute before marching on the Demon King's army with the remainder of Latmier's famed heavy cavalry," said Billy with awe in his voice, "They've got a giant statue of you in the center of the kingdom. They say you held off a thousand goblins alone at that spot." Keisha turned away, blushing in embarrassment.

I let out a cough. "Okay, and how long since Keisha helped Hessia hold off The Scourge?" I asked, attempting to track Cenkorham's history in my binder.

Billy looked away, as if the answer might be written on the ceiling somewhere. Based on his last history exam though, I didn't have much hope he'd remember any dates, but surprisingly a minute later, he responded. "About 300 years or so, give or take a decade."

I jotted down his response, making note that even after 300 years it appeared that life in Cenkorham hadn't changed much. "Also, why are you still covered in blood? Did they send you back right after the battle?" I asked as I put the binder away.

"Ummm," Billy said, tugging at his blood-soaked collar, "I didn't actually stay until the very end of the war. After our assault, we were searching the castle. I found this portal-thing and just thought, you know, that since all of our forces were inside the castle that they didn't need me anymore. So I just left, stepped through the portal and ended up back here."

"You moron," said Xander as several other students snickered, "You can't just leave a quest. We're chosen ones. You gotta stay until the end."

"Xander," I said, glaring at the student until he slouched back into his seat, "Language." Then I stared at Billy for a moment. "I guess if you made it back safely then there shouldn't be any harm. As your classmate pointed out, it is unusual." Before I could instruct the class back to their exams, a red circle appeared on the floor beneath another student's feet. Maria looked at me and simply shrugged as a flash of red light blinded the room. "Oh, come on. Two students in one day. I had this exam planned out for weeks," I said pounding a fist on my desk in frustration.

Once my vision cleared I found myself staring at something that may have crawled out of a nightmare. It stood roughly seven feet tall in bulky black armor that contrasted with its ashen-pale skin. Red runes covered almost every inch of the man's exposed flesh while something dark and eel-like seemed to swim just below the surface. Red horns, each about six inches long, formed a crown around his head. He stared back at me with eyes that burned like lava pits. Around him, the air felt charged, like a brewing storm. "So, who are you? And will Maria be back in time to finish the exam?" I asked.

The creature replied in a monstrous voice, its breath stinking of rotted flesh and buzzing like a thousand flies even from the other side of the room. I am Melkinzor, the Demon King, Bringer of Ruin, Landwaster, Burner of the Tellsalla Forests, Collapser of the Bilkasian Caves, Pillager of the Grand Hall -"

A textbook slammed onto my desk with a Boom! that echoed in the classroom and silenced our unwanted guest. "Sorry, did you say 'Demon King'?" I asked, turning my glare to Billy, who shrunk back in his desk. "I've a pretty good guess about why you're here, but if you wouldn't mind returning Maria, we do have a chemistry exam to complete today. We can send Billy back to defeat you tomorrow."

"Foolish mortal. I care not for your wants or requests. Denied my prize of Abaloth, I shall conquer your world instead starting with you swine that insult me with your presence!" The Demon King made a gesture with his hands that hurt my eyes to watch, and spoke a string of words that felt like they would cause bleeding in my ears. The air in the classroom charged with electricity, cracks forming in anything made of glass, and a bolt of red lightning snaked a path toward me.