Requiem

Chapter Three:

Chapter Three: 

A low guttural snarl bounces off the trees behind us and our bodies tremble. Completely frozen in fear, I barely manage to crane my head back and look towards the sound’s origin. 

The creature is nasty; skin a dark grayish black and teeth completely brown. Tattered strands of flakey flesh cling to different areas around its mouth and hands and its surprisingly normal black button down shirt and khaki slacks are ripped and encrusted with dirt. 

“What is it?” Monique’s voice is a low, coarse whisper.  

I can’t tear my eyes away from it. Horror washes through my body, rooting my feet to the ground. My hands quiver at my sides, one arm half raised and my fingers itch to curl around my sword. But I’m not quite sure what I would do with it yet. If we run, it would only be a burden. 

And do I really have the strength to hack the creature into tiny bits? 

“Holy mother…” Sebastian lets out a low whistle and a curse. “It’s a zombie.”

Its head snaps around, empty eye sockets glued to my face. The zombie lets out a loud, antagonized moan. It bends forward into a crouch. 

“It’s going to lunge!” I hear a strange cry ring through the air and, with a jolt, realize it is my own. 

Fingers curling around the hilt, I heave the sword up out of the holster and hear the click of a gun. Movement stirs around me but I barely catch on to what is happening. All I can see is that disgusting creature heading my way. 

An arrow slices through the air, but the sharp tip scarcely scrapes against the side of the zombie’s head. It pierces through its skin, ripping through it like a rock spearing through still water, but other than being knocked back a few feet, the zombie is completely unfazed. 

It simply lets out another angry roar and charges forward again. 

“We’ve got to work on your aim, Mo.” Sebastian grunts.

A gunshot blasts. I watch, still nailed to my spot on the ground, as the bullet pierces through the zombie’s jugular. 

Millions of small, milky gray beads stream out and splatter everywhere, seeping into the earth below. The zombie falls to its knees and then doubles forward -head ricocheting off the ground and bouncing like a bouncy ball. 

My lips curl back in disgust and a slow smirk twitches across Sebastian’s face, his fingers toying with the scary looking weapon at his waist. My eyes are glued to the remains and I can taste bile at the back of my throat. 

“Oh gosh,” I wheeze and Sebastian manages to turn me away from the zombie. 

“If you’re going to be sick,” He scolds lightly, stopping me in front of a bush and easing me down, “Be sick over here.” 

I swat him away and stubbornly swallow everything. My eyes flutter shut, tongue curling against the horrible taste in my mouth, and I turn back to the others. Jasper slides a sleek gray colored gun back into a holster that hangs from his hip, hidden beneath the folds of the unbuttoned shirt. His eyes don’t meet the mangled mess of zombie, but instead, are focused on my face. 

“Are you okay?” Monique lightly touches his shoulder. 

I study her. 

Her coffee-colored skin is flawless, features proportioned perfectly, and I don’t understand how her hair isn’t frizzy. My stiff waves could generate enough static electricity to power all of Crescent City. She wears a black pleated skirt, which is short enough to show off the lean muscles in her legs, and a matching black tank-top. 

Her dark eyes lazily shift away from Jasper’s face, following his gaze towards me. I roll my eyes when she scowls darkly like a jealous child. My gaze shifts back to Sebastian, who now stands in front of the zombie’s remains. His usually emotionless face is twisted into something remotely concerned. 

Taken aback, I approach him, being careful to keep my chin up and the zombie out of my sight. “What’s with the face?”

“There has to be more out there.” His dark eyes stay glued to the gnarled mess. “We’re going to have to be more careful while we’re out here.”   

I nod, agreeing completely. Until we figure everything out, we should also work on practicing with our weapons. I’ve never used a sword before and, as I glance back to Monique, I think back to her measly shot. She definitely needs practice. Said girl fiddles with a bow, trying to knock another arrow. 

My gaze shifts around her. Immediately, my heart rate spikes and the hairs on the back of my neck stand stiff. “Where’s Jasper?” 

Monique blinks and Jasper pokes his head out of the underbrush growing several feet away, smiling slyly. “You bellowed?”

“No,” My cheeks burn, “You were just hearing things.” I hastily turn back around to Sebastian.

There is more shuffling of the bushes and I stifle the nervousness that swells up inside me like a hot air balloon. We shouldn’t wander too far -who knows where other zombies might lurk. 

“Do you guys know anything about zombies?” I frown, folding my arms across my stomach. 

Blinking, Sebastian glances over, “They’re created using nanobots.” 

Air hitches inside my throat. 

Did he say Nanobots? 

Hesitantly, my fingers brush against the inside of my left wrist. The soft pad of my thumb rubs over the small, rough feeling scar there. 

Sebastian shoots me an amused look. 

Nanobots are basically the medical solution for everything -designed to rewire anything broken or damaged within your body, ranging from mental to physical injuries, and to self replicate like a virus. 

“After the host is dead, the nanobots continue living and grow. They’re able to rewire the nerves that connect your brain to the rest of your body and take control. They spread and regenerate by biting into a new host, creating a hole for the nanobots to stream in and set up camp.” He explains, amusement amplifying at my apparent uneasiness. “That’s why you are supposed to aim for the throat -the center of the nanobots’ control is the spinal cord.”

I stare at my wrist openly now, eyes wide with fear. 

I got the scar when I was eight; I made a mistake while climbing over a chain linked fence to help a small kitten caught in a trap. The metal was slick with rain and I slipped, the barbed top tearing through my skin easily –at least, that’s what I told my father. Really, the kitten didn’t want to be helped and decided to take a chunk out of my wrist in gratitude. 

My dad took me to the hospital, naturally, and I was infused with nanobots. My wrist healed in less than an hour. 

All I have left of the grim memory is the scar.