Erik, the Zombie Prince

Chapter Two: Charon

                For a long time, I stared into the creature reflected back at me in the water. A slow acceptance crept up and enveloped me, and I succumbed to my new identity. If I am to live as a monster, then so be it. I am Erik Dresden, a Zombie, and although an eternity stretches out before me, I feel each grain of time slipping by. Time cannot be wasted lamenting the past, or the transgressions set against me by the Powers That Be. I was angry- furious, even; at what, I did not know. It was if I was facing a faceless enemy that beset me with this cursed visage, and somehow, in some way, I felt a great wrath within me, boiling and surging as if it were an endless lake of lava.

My convictions were set. My life was once at the summit of the mountains, and now I laid at the bottom- a barren, broken man whose life was robbed of him. If there was any hope of regaining my station in my previous life, then it would have to be by my own sweat, blood, and tears (though Zombies have none of those in great volume). I would rule again, shape my life, and the lives of many, into exquisite forms. If I wanted to unravel the mysteries of Life, Death, and Unlife, then I would have to strive for the summit, and derive knowledge from that vantage point. I would conquer the Zombies, and in turn, conquer myself.

I stood up from the stream.

Somehow in the midst of my thoughts, night had crept up and fallen about me, and the crickets chirped merrily in all directions. Frogs croaked, and flies landed on me, resting, or perhaps trying to feed from parts of my rotting form. Like them, I had the desire to feed, although to what ends, I hadn't the slightest idea. I could only feel the desire, gnawing at me as it were, and I moved my body to this purpose. It was a hunt.

It wasn't long before I found her- a homeless woman, shaking in the dead night air with rags much like my own. She was entering the elderly stages of life, with brown hair and stray strands of grey, and the occasional fine line on her face. Wrinkles of wisdom around her eyes grew taught, and she had shut them tightly. It seemed her futile attempt at sleep would bear no fruit, yet she was dead set on trying.

No one would be around to hear her scream, however I swiftly covered her mouth with my hand and tore at the soft flesh of her neck. The shock seemed to ripple through her body as she struggled, but my jaws kept working, ripping the very life from her clutches in mere moments. Warm skin, blood, and tissue entered my mouth. I kept tearing at her throat with the viciousness of a rabid canine. Finally, after a few long moments, did she stop struggling and was still.

As soon as I swallowed the first bits of flesh, there was ecstasy. I devoured her brain, and my scalp became numb with pleasure. I could see her life flash before my eyes in a matter of seconds. She hadn't always been a vagabond. Her name was Caroline, and she grew up on the countryside of Northern Italy; she had been married to a travelling merchant as a teenager, and they made their home in the holy city of Rome. It was only years later did bandits raid her husband's wagon, murdering him in the process. They had a daughter, but she was lost to her now.

Eleanora...

That was her name, whispered in the memory of the woman I was devouring. Precious Eleanora and her flowing, brown hair and hazel eyes, frolicking in the streets and alleys of Rome as a child, innocent to the world, and fearful of God. It was a beautiful memory, filled with the light of joy, and the easy contentment of happiness. This woman had spent the remainder of her life searching for her, and the elements of Nature had eroded her sanity in the process. It was a pity that her life would end in such a violent way, never to be re-united with her beloved daughter. Regrettable, surely, but I could not undo the killing.

I stood from my prey- my mess of a meal, this corpse at my feet. I felt new life coursing through my veins, and the moonlight was more luminous than I had remembered, reflecting off each leaf, rock, and speck of dust so marvellously. My hearing felt sharper. I sensed the flitting, buzzing wings of a mosquito hundreds of metres away, the rustling of the wind, and the howls of wild wolves on the prowl even farther out. A sense of pleasure was rolling down my spine, and I was more than satiated. I may have sired a few bastard children in the escapades of my previous life, however this was beyond any carnal pleasure I had known before.

Was this the reward, then, for fulfilling my purpose as a Zombie? Bliss in the sole act of feeding? Not on mere wildlife like the previous deer, but on humans. If that were so, then the sole purpose of any Zombie, objectively, was the complete and utter destruction of the human species. It suddenly dawned upon me that Zombies are the complete antithesis to the human existence. Somehow, I could not fathom how I had become an agent of Death himself.

I sat on a boulder next to the corpse, wrestling with the idea of my own existence. As time passed, I could feel my bones strengthening, and my leg, which previously had a limp, was no longer lame. It seemed that with the digestion of human tissue, I had a renewed strength. The rate in which it was metabolised was almost alarming.

The corpse below me rustled, snapping me from my thoughts. Then a low moan was uttered from its throat. My eyes darted down, only to see that the death I had wrought not an hour ago was now undone. Somewhere along the way I had forgotten that, in the act of feeding, I would give birth to another of my kind. It was an exquisite revelation—for a Zombie, feeding and reproduction were one in the same. The pinnacle of our very existence must be exceptionally boring to any outsider who chooses to study us, yet one could argue that all human existence boiled down to much the same: eating, and reproduction. A scientist might say the only purpose in life is to propagate it.

The woman rose up from the dead, as it were, and quite noisily, too. Rather than pride in my own creation, I felt a distinct disgust at the sight. I did not wish this to happen. In my hunger, I had not thought it through- that my actions would give rise to another in likeness to my image. Her eyes turned up at me, and though I had the vague hope of finding a soul within them, there was nothing but a vacant window, and it stretched on as if I stared into an abyss.

I felt myself shudder. The woman was merely a shadow of life, a dark copy, and imitator. Somehow, I felt it defiled the precious life I had witnessed when I was scooping her brains into my maw. I felt a great anger well up inside me, and it churned itself into a quiet rage. I could not allow such a thing to exist, and moreover, feed upon others as I had undoubtedly done in the past. For the sake of whatever humanity that remained within me, I knew I had to end her.

Forgive me, Caroline...

With both hands, I raised up a stone about the size of my head. I smashed her feet first, then her knees, stomach, and hands. Her hands had been beautiful, once. Even if she was raised in the country, her life hadn't been a rough one. Now the bones were crushed under my instrument of death. I worked myself in a fury, severing her arms from her torso, and her head from her body. I stopped to look at her, what remained. It was a bloody mess of things- fingers and bones scattered about, and her mouth was gaping, opening and closing still and producing guttural moans. Apparently, disposing of my own kind was more difficult than I initially imagined. It would be her head that held the key to her undoing, then.

I raised the stone above my head again, and flung it down a path that would leave her skull in countless pieces. Just before it connected, I saw it—a flash of light kindled in her eyes, and they met mine. It was recognition- fear, doubt, and apology. For an instant, they pleaded to me that I would have mercy, to spare her despite the abhorrence she had become. There was a sickening feeling in my stomach.

Yet it was too late. Even if I had wished it, with every cell in my body, I could not stop the blow. The stone connected an instant later, and her skull was shattered beneath the force of my deadly conviction. Bits of brain matter, flesh, bone, and teeth had been crushed upon impact. It was a gruesome sight, and even in my Undead being did I feel a deep sadness. This was it.

Caroline was dead.