Eight
“‘Eastport University Rams,’” I repeated, deadpan, as I disembarked the postal truck. “What the hell is a college football team doing in a graveyard, especially now?”
Parked with one wheel up on the curb and the front end slammed into the metal fence that ringed the graveyard’s perimeter was a college school bus that had been spray-painted mostly black aside from the symbols for the University, the football team, and a collection of greek lettering I presumed was code for whatever the local fraternity called themselves. Oh, and the bus also had rams horns painted on the front half.
“Normally, I’d say they were doing some sick initiation ritual,” Selene replied. “A lot of the players on this team are also members of the EU’s fraternity. They haze all the new players regardless of whether or not they actually join the fraternity. It’s common knowledge amongst the police department. Every year some kid gets hurt. But as for what they’re doing here now?” She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t imagine it’s anything great.”
“Oh joy. Frat bros.” Shaking my head, I silently signaled the Hunters to fan out and stay alert while I moved up towards the bus and raised my right arm up. Taking aim carefully, I fired off a little tracking dart that stuck to one of the bus’s large wheels.
Alright, Io. Tell me what my eye in the sky has for me today.
Tracking dart online. Not sure it will be necessary though. There’s a large gathering of college students all cloistered around a particular grave. Some of them are wearing football pads, others are carrying baseball bats, and a few of them are wearing red robes. More than a few are armed with firearms. And uh… they’re digging. I don’t know what’s going on here, Ryan, but I don’t like it at all.
Digging? Oh what the fuck. Keep the flock circling and keep me posted on any changes. We’re going in.
I started marching through the low forest of headstones, flanked by Selene on my left and Blitz on my right. The squad of Hunters splayed out past them. Six past Selene, six past Blitz, all staggered so half of them were ahead of us and half trailed behind. Their heads and rifles were on a swivel constantly looking for threats to appear. I took a few extra-long strides to ensure that I stayed in the lead of the group.
Overhead, Io’s trio of drones had taken on the appearance of crows as they circled around overhead, occasionally perching in a tree or telephone wire and surveilling the entire site and everything around. In a corner of my HUD I could see a tactical map growing more and more detailed by the second as they scanned everything. Aside from the mass of college kids there were also a few packs of zombies lingering around the exterior of the graveyard, which Io highlighted as potential problems if we started making too much noise.
We kept walking until we caught sight of the large group.
“Are they chanting?” Blitz asked, incredulous.
“Sure sounds like it,” I agreed. “This look like some sick initiation, officer Selene?”
Selene grimaced. “Yes, actually. They’ve never gone grave-robbing before, but it’s certainly within the realm of possibilities with these idiots. Last year three guys broke into the downtown zoo and tried to kidnap a tiger. Miraculously none of them got mauled, but it was a very near thing. There was alcohol involved.”
Blitz groaned audibly. “So expect drunk linebackers, is what you’re saying?”
“I don’t really know what to expect right now. These guys are crazy but I never would’ve expected them to be standing at the epicenter of a zombie apocalypse digging up a body. That’s…a whole other level.”
“Welcome to my world,” I said with a light chuckle.
Practically the second the words left my mouth, we all passed through some sort of invisible barrier. The world suddenly lost all saturation. Sounds became muted. The only color anywhere in Eastport came from the twilight sky overhead. Everything else was shades of gray, trending towards the dark.
But that was not the most startling shift. Where before we had been walking through an empty graveyard towards the cluster of young, dumb, and numb college kids all chanting and digging up a grave, we now stood in a very crowded graveyard. An army of well-dressed translucent figures roamed the site. Contrary to what I was expecting, these ghosts did not seem hostile or even interested in us. They mostly just seemed sad, and spoke amongst themselves in confused voices. Like they were all tourists asking for directions from people who did not speak their language.
Far from being frightened, all I felt was pity and melancholy.
Selene suddenly shivered. Her body language once again shifting into a more confident stance and her grip on her assault rifle seeming more certain than before.
“Ryan,” Hannah said with a curt nod. “What are we doing here?”
Dreading a repeat of the same argument I’d had with Selene, I answered her anyway, “This is the epicenter of the zombie outbreak. We rolled up and found a college bus parked, well, crashed out front and there’s all these kids gathered around a grave, digging and chanting.”
Hannah warped Selene’s face into a wince. “Ah. That explains the necrotic energy filling the air. I think they’re trying for a resurrection. Don’t think it’s working. But, Ryan, I asked Selene to get you to join me in the old forest. What are you doing here?”
I frowned. “Hannah, there’s zombies filling the streets. This takes precedence.”
Hannah blinked. “Oh, she didn’t tell you. Alright. It’s whatever. We need to talk when we’re done with this mission. I don’t blame you for making the decision you did, but there’s some more information you need here.”
“Hold up guys, we’ve been spotted,” Blitz interrupted.
Hannah and I turned away from one another to observe the college group.
A lot of heads were turning our way. Nobody looked particularly pleased to see us intruding on their secret little ritual. I couldn’t blame them, I wasn’t particularly pleased to see them here either.
There was a shift in the crowd as the gathered students suddenly parted. Cheerleaders in skimpy outfits, frat bros in polos, footballers in full gear, and a small number of people wearing red robes that made it hard to tell who was underneath, all moved aside to allow one guy in particular to step through the crowd.
This blond guy was wearing a letter jacket and carrying some sort of scepter in his hands. He waved to us and started threading his way through the graves to meet us. A small number of his followers, for they were unmistakably following his lead, started to trail behind him. He turned around and snapped his fingers, pointing back the way he’d come. With dipped heads, his followers moved back into formation and kept chanting.
Hannah and I met eyes suspiciously, unsure what we were witnessing.
The guy just kept walking our way.
“Alright guys, hold position and wait for my signal,” I said as I moved to intercept him.
“Wait, Ryan, we should go together,” Hannah protested.
“No. You stay here, safe. I’ll handle this,” I ordered over my shoulder. Without waiting for a reply I kept walking towards the blond dude until we were within earshot of one another. His eyes seemed to dart over my uniform with a strange mix of confusion and envy. In my tactical jumpsuit covered in guns and armor, I probably looked more than slightly intimidating, especially since I was over six-foot-five nowadays and easily over 250 pounds of lean mean monster-killing machine)
He was no pushover himself, being just a little shorter than me and pretty comparable in weight class. Something about him was hauntingly familiar, but I couldn’t place it so I kept analyzing him. Between the muscles bulging out of his jacket and the confidence with which he carried himself, not to mention the collection of people he had at his beck and call, I made some educated guesses about him.
“Let me guess. College quarterback, rich parents, member of the fraternity. You found some magical artifact that can raise the dead and decided to use it on someone close to you. Maybe your mother? I sense mommy issues. Anyway, the magic got away from you and you accidentally kick started a zombie apocalypse. How close am I getting?”
The guy scoffed, his lips peeling back in a grin that showed off perfectly shaped white teeth to go along with his quaffed blond hair. “Pretty close, actually. Missing a few steps though. For one, the zombies weren’t an accident. All part of the plan. And two, it’s not my mother I’m trying to resurrect, douchebag. She’s a fucking bitch and can rot in hell for all I care,” he said with a snarl and spat on the ground before continuing. “It’s my girlfriend. She died in a car accident out past Hilltop. We were on our way back from a wild party, we were both drinking, and… anyway. I’m going to bring her back.”
My whole world shrunk down to a pinprick. Those details sounded exactly like what happened to Hannah and me, only in reverse. We were headed up when we got hit, and neither of us had been drinking.
“When was this accident?”
“I don’t know man. Like, two years ago, I think.”
“Was there anyone else on the road? I mean. Did you hit anyone else?”
He blinked. “Uh, yeah. We hit this other couple on their way up to Camp-”
I don’t remember drawing my pistol, but the gun was in my left hand and raised at the dude’s head before I could think.
“You absolute motherfucker. You killed my girlfriend!”