Sorcha's Secret World, Part one.

Chapter 2, New England.

The first thing I remember is the fog. It was cold and damp. That wasn't unusual for late October of course, but it was the coldest dampest fog I had ever experienced, it almost felt unnatural. It wasn't very thick, and I could see I was in a forested area with a road just ahead. The second thing I remember is the screams in the distance. And the third was the smell. The smell of beans.

Right between the welcoming glow of the Agartha portal behind me and the road in front of me was a red tent, and in front of it was a small fire with a pot above it. And near it, sat what looked like a cowboy, cowboy hat and all.

"Don't worry kid, you haven't gone back in time. My name is Boone. I'm a troubleshooter." he introduced himself with a gravelly voice. "All we know so far is that death and fog came from the sea, or someone brought it back with them. If I was a gambling man, I would put my money on that someone still being around."

According to Boone, there were still a few survivors holed up in Kingsmouth town. If I would just follow the road I would come to the sheriff's station. "Kid, find out what those people died for. And you bring a reckoning."

Sure, one reckoning, coming up! Hoping I looked braver than I felt, I walked towards the road.

Have you ever watched a zombie movie? Because I hadn't, I wasn't really good with blood and gore. I did know enough to realise that what I walked into, well, no movie or tv show could have prepared me for.

It was hell. There were crashed cars and dead bodies everywhere. Some had the decency to stay where they had fallen, but some were walking around. The bodies, not the cars. Some zombies were eating the corpses, some looked half-eaten themselves. They didn't just look disgusting, they sounded disgusting. They smelled disgusting. And, as I realised I was standing on the arm of a corpse, they felt disgusting too.

I did what every hero would do in my situation: I took my weapon in hand, took a deep breath, felt my stomach heave, and puked up my breakfast. And then threw up a second time, for good measure.

Feeling embarrassed I looked back at Boone, but he just waved me on.

With nothing left in my stomach, I proceeded toward the first group of zombies. I figured it wouldn't do to let them get too close to me, so I lifted my hands, my sad little USB effigy in hand, and let lightning surge through my fingers. A bolt zapped quickly from one zombie to another, and they fell down. They twitched for a bit and then stopped moving.

Sorcha 5: zombies 0

I may have done a little happy dance, but I will never admit to that.

I made my way down the road, zapping any zombie that dared to come near me. I was feeling pretty awesome!

And then I came to the sheriff's station, and it suddenly wasn't awesome anymore. A handful of ragged looking survivors had barricaded themselves in at the sheriff's station, looking so tired and hurt and scared. There were some people with rifles on the roof, shooting the zombies that were attacking them, but the zombies wouldn't stay down long, they'd just get back up again after a while. It was a small island, these people must all know each other, must have known each other. They were shooting at friends, at family. And they were losing.

My phone rang, it was Richard. I told him that it looked like I was going to be dealing with zombies. I hoped he'd send reinforcements, but he seemed convinced I could handle it by myself. He reminded me again that my first priority was not to help the survivors, but to find out who or what was behind the zombie invasion and to put a stop to it.

I walked into the sheriff's office.

"Hey hey!" the sheriff, a woman in her fifties, greeted me warmly as I walked in. Her name was Helen Bannerman, and the man bandaging up a patient on the table was her husband, Doctor Bannerman.