I’m outside, standing on top of something very high off the ground. The sun is shining brightly and there is a crisp chill to the air. I can feel the wind blowing across my face and ruffling my hair. The sun is warm, even in the cool autumn air. I can see for miles in every direction. The smell of fresh air is so clean I can almost taste it. I can see the hills and trees and lakes in the distance. There are thousands of people on all sides, they are close, but feel like they are a million miles away. They are all dead.
For miles I can see the dead, all moving in one direction. They are all moving towards me. Some are walking upright at a good pace, others are moving much slower. Many are limping, some are even crawling. All of them are coming. I realize that I cannot see the end of the mass of people. It is just an endless sea of dead. Moving as one, almost like they all have the same common goal or destination. That destination is where I am standing. The ones that have already made it here are still. They are just standing in silence, looking up at me. It is like they are waiting for some thing, some kind of direction.
It’s odd to think that each one was a person at one time. Each had a life, a family, a job, a home, and a purpose. Now they were just mindless corpses with nothing. Nothing, but a destination. A place to go, even if there is no reason. There is a reason though, they don’t know it, and I don’t think any one knows it yet. Not even me.
I notice that there is something cold and hard in my hand. I cannot see it, but I can tell it is smooth and sharp at the same time. I grip it tightly as I watch the millions of approaching dead. It is completely silent up here. Nothing, but the wind. Then the silence is broken. I hear footsteps. I look over at a door to my left. It is slightly ajar. A man comes through the door and quickly makes his way over to me. It is the balding man in a black suit again. He smiles as he approaches, but looks nervous. He sets his case on the floor and pulls out a small laptop computer. Then he got up and approached once more.
“They have the key. This is actually working.”
I responded, “Good, this is all going according to our plans. I didn’t expect them all to survive, but it’s just as well. Let’s see if they can get through the next part of our little game. Prepare yourself; this one will be much more difficult.”
He nodded and hurried back down the stairs. I looked back out to check on the dead, they were still coming. I walked over to the computer he left on the ground. I looked at the map that was pulled up on the screen. I saw millions of tiny green dots. They were thickest around the upper Midwest part of the country. They were slowly, but surely closing in.
As I shut the laptop, I heard another helicopter fly by. They were coming more often now, mostly heading south. I’m not sure what they are here for yet, but I can guess.
I gripped the cold steel in my hand and glanced down at my watch on the other. It was almost time. That was when I noticed the rotting flesh on my forearm and closed my eyes again.
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