-Complete-
A zombie apocalypse with a twist of Native American Lore.
It all began from a sequence of events so absurd, complicated and uncommon as to be unbelievable but an ancient Hopi Pueblo Prophecy predicted a time when the dead would roam the...
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The Sign Of The Heron
Lensey Samuel Cloud-Song sat at the yawning mouth of the cave entrance cross legged.
Around him, seated in a half-moon crescent, sat the elders. Together they sat and smoked peyote from a long narrow fluted pipe. In the distance, wispy white clouds against a cobalt sky played tricks with his mind and changed shapes as they willed. The music of rain-sticks filled the air.
The dancing colors of burnished orange, red and brown siennas splashed painted ancient objects over the faces of oddly shaped limestone landscapes. Crudely drawn horses and antelope ran in silent herds. Fish swam along the shadowed cliff faces and the Great Blue Heron perched on long stick legs at the water's edge.
Sometimes, Lensey could hear the elders' whispered chanting, reminding him of the primitive stories of their people.
Other times they sat without making a sound. He opened the door to his subconscious and let his mind flow free with his visions.
Len Cloud knew that he was dreaming, but he didn't mind. Anytime he could sit with the elders was good for him. Often the elders told him of things to come. Things from the great beyond. A place you could only reach by spiritual means. He got up and stepped into the blinding light of his thoughts and went over to study the Heron.
As he marveled at its size and beauty it suddenly rose up and spread its great wings enveloping him in a vast darkness of pain and anguish, shrieking with rage and then it was gone. Len felt his soul sucked from his body like the powerful ebb of tidal jet at low tide. It spun him around and left him gasping for breath. When he opened his eyes, the elders stood silently before him. Their faces somber. Their expressions grave. The oldest elder stepped forth, his leathery face crinkled in time.
"The Great Heron has spoken to you, Cloud-Song. How will you answer?"
〰️
The incessant sound of a ringing phone pulled Len Cloud from deep with-in his dreamland fantasy to the here and now. His mind was groggy with sleep as he sat up. Dammit, he thought, annoyed with modern conveniences. His phone lit up again, piercing his thoughts like a battle horn. It rang three times before he picked it up.
"If that's you Nathan O'Connor," he muttered.
But it wasn't. It was Len's nieces' husband, Hollis. "Hey Hollis, is the diner on fire?" Len joked.
"Len, have you heard from Nate?" Hollis' gravelly voice pressed.
"No, I thought it might be him calling. He's usually the one interrupting my naps," Len retorted, staring at his dog who was now sitting before him staring back. Len rolled his eyes and the dog barked.
"Shush, Biggie, can't you see I'm talking here?"
Biggie wagged his tail.
"So, what does Nate want, Hollis?" Len got up and went to the door of the RV to let Biggie outside. The dog bolted over the three steps and off into the sweltering heat of the day.
Len followed him out and settled into a lawn chair but got right back up. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and a cold chill settled on his shoulders. Everything he had known and prepared for had suddenly come full circle as he listened to what Hollis was telling him. The question from the elder in his dream came back to reverberate in his mind like war drums and now as time stood still around him, Nate was no where to be found.
They had planned for this very day.
Painstakingly arranged well thought out actions. Assigned each person within their group a task of which Nate was the core. It couldn't be happening like this. Len fought back the urge to panic knowing he would have to be the one to step up and bring things together, but dammit, where the hell was Nate.
Len placed his pinkie fingers to his lips and whistled. Biggie appeared from the horizon running full blast until he reached his master and leapt up, placing his huge Anatolian Shepherd paws on Lens shoulders.
"Come on Biggie, we got work to do. Then we gotta find Nate. And your brother."
Biggie bounded to the RV with a buck and he and Len went inside. They had all planned to meet at the 191 Diner when things went south. Now Len wasn't sure what to do. The top of his list would be to find Nate, so he gathered his wits and he and Biggie loaded up in his old Chevy truck to make the drive down the mountain. Hollis and Verbena said they would wait for him to get there and then they would decide what to do. Along the way his phone rang, and he pulled off the highway hoping to hear Nates voice.
"Nate!" he nearly shouted.
"Len, its Donelle."
"Hey!" he croaked. "Say is Nate there with you?"
"No, he was supposed to have been here over an hour ago. He called and told me get packed and then he never showed up. I thought he might be with you. I'm worried Len."
"Oh my God. Alright Donie, I'm on my way in. I'll just swing by and get you," Len assured her.
He ended the call and put his truck in drive, then back in park. He made a quick call to Verbena to let her know. He put the truck back in drive but hesitated. In the distance he could hear the low blare of sirens. As the sound got closer a spine-tingling sight greeted him coming over the hill from the direction he was headed. Police units, ambulances and fire marshal emergency vehicles filled the highway and screamed past.
Biggie went on a barking rampage at the offending chaotic melee of noise. Len shoved the truck in drive and spun his tires getting out of there, praying all the while that Nate would surface, sooner rather than later.