They call me Grim (COMPLETED)

Chapter 18: Let's throw some zombies into the mix!

Grim watched the sun rising, her scythe lying next to her on the rooftop, the blade glinting in the morning orange glint.

Grim sighed and pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes, trying to deal with what she had just found out.

Jessica was alive.

Another one of the Hellish Six she had to deal with again, at least she wasn't Mary. But still, Grim couldn't believe her luck. Out of all the millions of people who died in car accidents, the one that died and was brought back had to been one of her tormentors. Sure, she was one of the nicer ones, but still.

She wanted Blake at that moment. He would have known how to deal with this, what to do. He knew Jessica died, and he would have told her everything about why she had been the one the necromancer brought back. Grim sighed.

She had to find this necromancer but she didn't know how. Oh and then there was the added bonus of a crazed demon reaper who was wandering around with exceptional power at his disposal. Grim glared at her scythe.

"You wouldn't happen to have laser mode?" she asked it. Strangely, the inanimate object did not respond.

What could she do? Nothing. That was the answer, she had no idea where the necromancer was, what they looked like or really anything. Maybe she should just go running up to all the young girls in the town and threaten them with her scythe. That would go down well.

Grim sighed.

That's when she heard the screaming.

She sat up and peered out over the roof. Then she heard it again, shrill screams of terror that broke the silence of the morning air. They began to echo around, the town coming alive much too early. Something was wrong.

Grim appeared on the street in time to see a mother with a toddler cradled in her arms run past her. Grim watched her pass, speechless and confused. She turned and saw more people running, most still wearing pyjamas or half-dressed for work.

Grim grabbed a teenage boy running past her. "What's going on?" She asked him. She dimly recognised that he was a werewolf and that alarmed her even more. What could make a werewolf run for their lives?

"The dead,' he gasped, "They're everywhere!"

Then he was gone, streaking down the path with more people. The screaming appeared to have awoken everyone in town and they all had one reaction, run.

Grim did the opposite, she walked in the direction. She gripped her scythe tightly in her hands as she walked. Her cloak felt heavy and stiff on her shoulders. Grim thought about sending it away, especially if she was going to have to fight, but couldn't bear to part with the security and familiarity of it.

She walked slowly and with her eyes peeled. Again she missed her werewolf hearing and eyes and even smell. A few more people ran past her, but whenever she tried to grab one of them they struggled and hit. People were desperate and panicked, and all running in one direction.

One man ran past her with two pre-teens, he was yelling at them, "It's the zombie apocalypse! We've got to move!"

For god's sake, zombies, really? Like she didn't have enough problems to deal with.

The first body she saw was an embalmed corpse, an old woman holding a crowbar. She wasn't a zombie. She wasn't hungering for braaaaains; instead she was marching with her weapons in hand and slashing at any one near her. She wasn't chasing anyone, she had a purpose and her purpose was . . . herding.

Grim frowned and looked around. There were dozens more corpses, ranging from fresh to mere skeletons. They all walked robotically, staggering and they all head makeshift weapons. Now of them were hurting anybody, instead they pushing and shoving and swinging. They were driving everyone into one direction. Grim turned and watched the stragglers sprint away, what direction were they heading to?