Friday, May 2, 2014

OPAL GETS BURIED and UBER ZOMBIE, UTHER aus ULM is there fir her RESURRECTION ... 5/2/14

Just over the concrete lip of the parking lot, away from the entrances on the road is the forest primeval. A dense patch of mixed-breed oaks, scrub pines, thick bushy ground cover and botanical species yet unnamed. Spiders dance on tightropes. Rodents dash about like pixies. Deer observe in the deepest shadows and fifty pound bobcats slaughter everything. Some claim grey wolves, or more likely wolf-coyote hybrids hunt there too. But canines never tell. Like ghosts they are. Even the real ghosts say so.

Ralphie and Ezekiel drag Opal along an ancient, narrow path made by deer, or perhaps they just commandeered it after the 'Indians' left?... A smooth, winding, beaten dirt path. Her head sticks out of the big, black, plastic 'lawn' bag, bouncing to and 'fro, as they pull from the scrunched up shoulders. Is she conscious? Just barely. They bit her up real good. She groans a bit. Ralphie whispers - Aw, no fuss. Come on. You're just getting a make-over.... Ezekiel never talks at times like this. He just does what he does and moves things along.

They grave's already been dug. Made a drifter do it a while back. Had a feeling somebody good would come along. At first they were gonna zombie-ize him. But Ezekiel didn't like his looks. Said he had the wrong aesthetic. Zombies, at least high caste, non-decomposing zombies often have a 'look,'... thin, austere and hungry. Some shave their heads. They like the feel of it. So much cleaner when they dig into a soon to be corpse and tear away. Bald like vultures. It just makes sense.

The drifter screamed when he learned what they were. Even the night birds jumped. He didn't believe it at first. Told them to go to hell. He knew he was a drunk. Hallucinations are hallucinations, right? And the woods beyond the mall parking lot were so dark and cool and quiet. So he dug. Maybe there was treasure down there? Maybe it was all a joke? Maybe they were from the TV? You know, they got little tiny cameras that can shoot in the dark, right? But on television some goof always jumps out at the last minute , says it's 'candid camera' and gives you like a gift card for Lowes, or a lifetime pass to Golden Corral. I think they let you eat somewhere else on holidays, though. Only make you eat there regular days.... 

Drifter said - What kind a crap is this? There ain't no treasure down here. Gimme your hand, you God damned weird bastid and pull me up..... But Ralphie hopped down instead, grinned at him (starlight gilds everything) and bit right through his dirty sweatshirt, excising his left pectoral muscle (such as it was) and a little bit of the gristle where it meets the breast bone. Suddenly treasure wasn't much of a priority. Rubbery, ripping sound wiped it right out a his head. Fell to his knees. Clutched his chest and rasped - Oh, Mommy. Oh, Mommy, Oh, Mommy..... Then Ezekiel jumped down too. Fifteen heartbeats later drifter guy was one stripped raw carcass. Drumsticks went first. Then the wings... the surviving breast... the tushie... the offal... No, wait. I forgot his wee-wee and his wee-wee's best friend and the part of him that had that tattoo...then the offal. Heart and lungs went last, after they denuded his skull...  Peeled it clean. Just like eating fruit wraps. What was left of him whimpered like a kitten. Didn't so much 'die,' as just drifted away. Furry, little woodland creatures made off with the bones. They were so happy.

Dropped Opal in the same pit. Tore the bag off first. Chomped off little gobbets of flesh to stimulate blood flow. Zombie making microbes need wounds in order to enter. The more the merrier. Plus they enable the victim to absorb oxygen while buried.

She barely knew what happened. Opal, I mean. One minute she's sucking in chill, night air. Next she's rocked in the bosom of Mother Earth, all cool and fresh and wormy. Then she feels the weight. Not all-over pressure like people feel when they're suddenly inundated by a tsunami. This is different. Just weight... a solid, pressing weight. That woke her up. Tried to scream. Couldn't scream. Couldn't even open her mouth. Sealed shut tight. Just like a piece of banana in a Jello mold. Tried to dig. Couldn't move her fingers. Rocked back and forth, incrementally enlarging the cavity occupied by her body. Then she could dig a little. Heart pounding. Dig some more.  No thought. No nothing. Just do it. Do it. Do it. Blood throbbed from her fingers til the sharp, little points of her bones poked through. And the abrasive action of wet, heavy, pebble-filled soil scrapped what little meat she had right off her rib cage. 

While up above, Ralphie and Ezekiel waited. They knew how to make a high caste zombie. Might not be pleasant, but it'd work. Done it before in other places, down in Zombieland, the Gulf Coast bayous of Cajun territory. That's where they first met Uther... Uther aus Ulm. Read what we posted last time, if you want to learn about him. Ought to be here soon. Can't trust no zombie, though. Most a them don't wear no watches. Not like they punch a clock, or nothing.

Lemme stop now. All this talk 'bout blood, meat and bones make me hungry. I gotta go in the kitchen...

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