Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Part II

Orlando stood gazing down at his feet. The officer cleared his throat, bringing Orlando’s attention back to him.
          “Look kid, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but do not waste the time and expense of our department with false reports.”
          Orlando didn’t know how to respond. He saw a guy shoot another guy right here in this spot. He didn’t make it up. As luck would have it, at that moment his grandfather arrived from the hardware store, as did the movers. The officer wasted no time telling his grandfather the reason for his visit.
          Orlando didn’t want to hear it. He went back inside and up the stairs to his room. Upon slamming his door, he shot his radio with one look; it immediately turned on with the volume up high. Falling backwards on his bed, he waited for his grandfather to bang on his door to find out what all that was about. His grandfather didn’t do that. He didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until his parents came home from work that night that he heard his grandfather’s voice. His mother didn’t waste any time ripping into Orlando.
          “Is this because you’re not happy about the move? You make things up to try to force us to leave? I got news for you; that’s not going to happen! So deal with it!” His mother continued ranting at him for some time.
          His mother had never been this angry with him before. He didn’t say anything. He just lay on his bed staring at the wall. His lack of response only infuriated his mother more. Apparently tired of yelling over his radio, she tried turning it off with a glare but it didn’t work. Frustrated, she left him alone in his bedroom. Orlando heard her storm down the steps.
          Later that night Orlando woke from a deep sleep to the sounds of his grandfather’s TV. He waited one of his parents to go downstairs and tell him to turn it down, but he didn’t hear them. Tired, Orlando got up to do it himself. Standing at the top of the stairs, he noticed that the lights were off. It was dark. With one look of his eyes, the light switch turned on.
          “Grandpa?” he said as he hurried down the stairs. Approaching the closed door he called again, a little louder, “Grandpa!”
          It was then that he heard the voices on the other side of the door. He thought nothing of it. Believing it was just the sounds from the TV, Orlando pushed the door open. His grandfather was not alone. The TV was on; it was intended to drown out their voices. Sitting across from his grandfather was an old looking man whose gaze landed on Orlando.
          “Did we wake you?” The old man asked.
          “What do you think? Orlando asked annoyed.
          “This is my grandson,” his grandfather said to the old man.
          “I see.”
          “Grandpa what’s with the TV? It woke me up.” Irritated Orlando shut the TV off with one harsh look.
          The old man sat up in amazement, “Can he do this all the time, at will?” he asked Orlando’s grandfather.
          “No,” he replied. Giving it some thought he said, “Only when he’s in a foul mood or has low blood sugar. Which is all the time these days.”
          Looking back at Orlando the old man said, “You got a temper.”
          “No, I don’t.” Orlando wasn’t going to stay for this. He was going to go back upstairs and try to get some sleep.
          The old man kept him from leaving by saying, “I know about what happened out there in front of your house; what you saw.”
          Orlando halted by the door, without turning back he asked,” You do?”
          “Yes, your grandfather told me. Which is why I’m here.”
          “Are you a cop?” he asked as he turned back expectantly.
          “Not the kind with a badge.”
          “Then what kind are you?”
Orlando had not noticed before but leaning next to the chair was a wicked looking sword with a green handle and silver blade.
          “Is this some kind of joke?”  Orlando asked not at all amused.
          “This is no joke. This is a serious weapon.” The old man took up his sword.
          Orlando’s grandfather stepped in by adding, “This here is my friend, Maxwell. We used to hunt Zombies together.”
          “What? Zombies! Have you been smoking grandpa?” Orlando didn’t smell smoke but maybe the old man had started getting those magick fixes he had heard about.
          “We thought we had seen the last of them but something’s happened. They are here again.” His grandfather replied.
          Maxwell placed his sword back down, “The zombies are rising. I am going to have to train you in what you need to know.”
          Orlando didn’t know what they were talking about, “I’m going back to bed. See you in the morning, grandpa.”
          Orlando, wait.” He did. “It’s your turn now. No one else can do this but you.”
          “Do what? What do you want me to do?” asked Orlando sounding like he was becoming irritated.
          His grandfather stood, stretching himself to his full height, “You must become the next zombie hunter.”
          “And,” Maxwell added, “You must begin your training before their numbers begin to rise.”
          Orlando stood there looking at them as if they lost their minds, “A zombie hunter?”


Tuesday, September 21, 2010

The Zombie Story Part I

Orlando had no desire to relocate with his family to of all places, Los Angeles, CA. Everything he had heard about the city was that it was filled with crazies. He had heard through reliable sources that in L.A. everyone wanted what was called a ‘magick fix’. You could get it anywhere on the streets of L.A. It was cheap and the high it gave lasted for days. He had heard all of this from his best friend Jeff and Jeff’s brother Carl.
         
“That town is gonna break you,” Jeff said. The look in his eyes showed Orlando all the sympathy in the world.

Everyone in the world had magick in one form or another. The ones who had the smallest amounts were known as Novices; the ones at the next level up were known as Mercurial’s. They were given the name mercurial because their magick was never reliable and always unstable. The ones who were at the top of the chain were called Wizards. They had learned to control their power. There were not many people who reached this level. It was very rare. 

The reason why Orlando was relocating with his family was because both his parents had found jobs there. The economy crashed so they had to take what they could find. Orlando’s grandfather was also moving with them. His grandfather was a bit off his rocker. Whenever he started talking about any subject he would never stop to take a breather. At the old place, his grandfather had the room next to his and every other night he kept his TV blasting with sound. The walls would vibrate. Even if he told him to keep it down, his grandfather just ignored him. His grandfather didn’t care; he wasn’t the one who had to get up early to get to school on time.

That was another thing. It was his last year of high school. He was seventeen years old. He would now have to set himself up at a brand new school, learn the hierarchy and keep a low profile until he got himself situated.

Did his parents care about all this? Nope. Not only were they all relocating, but they were driving all the way from Oklahoma to L.A. and Orlando was stuck in the back seat with grandpa, who either wasn’t aware or didn’t care that he was kind of gassy. Orlando had to keep the window down to let air in.

The house they finally drove up to looked decent enough. It was a two story building. The upstairs window was cracked. There was no grass in the front yard and the driveway was busted up. Orlando had expected a lot worse.

Orlando was the first one in the house. His mom unlocked it with the key the realtor had sent them. He brushed by her. It didn’t take him long to pick out a bedroom. He liked the one at the end of the long hallway. The bedroom windows overlooked the front yard. The movers, who had all their stuff, were expected the next day, so the room stood empty. His window was the one that had the crack in it.
         
          The neighborhood was very quiet. No one was outside. No one, he guessed, cared who had moved into the empty house.
         
          Orlando’s mom Karen stood in the doorway of his new bedroom with his sleeping bag in her hands. “This isn’t so bad; we can fix that window up real easy.”
          “Yeah, I guess.” He said not to enthused. 
          “Do you want to sleep in here? I brought up your sleeping bag.”
          “Yeah, sure,” he was still mad at his parents for making him move out to Los Angeles. He didn’t want his mom to think that anything changed.

          The next morning Orlando was home alone. He didn’t start school for a few more days. His parents had left early to go to work. His grandfather was down the street buying a new window for Orlando’s bedroom.

          Orlando was out in the backyard. He was picking up junk that had been piled up. He had his headphones on and was listening to music. He was heading up to the front; he needed to get more trash bags from the garage. As he made his way down the side of the house, he saw two men out in the middle of the street. One had a gun; the other was on the ground. Orlando couldn’t hear what they were saying, so he removed his headphones.
          He could hear them arguing. The man with the gun held it pointed at the others chest.
          “Please! Don’t!” The man on the ground cried up to at the one with the gun. He was a bit scraggly looking and unkempt.
          Orlando scanned the block; there was no one else out watching what was going on. He crouched down against the house trying to keep out of sight.
         The man with the gun began laughing, before taking aim and firing the gun. He fired at the scraggly man twice. The gunshots echo throughout the quiet street.
          The blood oozing from the scraggly man nearly made Orlando vomit.
         
          Orlando hurriedly backed up from his hiding place tripping on his own feet. Fearing he made too much noise and that man with the gun must have heard him Orlando jumped to his feet. As he ran into the backyard he checked over his shoulder multiple times to see if the man was after him. Once inside the house he locked the sliding door behind him and called the police from his cell phone. He’s anxious as the operator came on the line, “What is the form of your emergency?”
          “A guy’s been shot!” Orlando hadn’t meant to shout. He dropped the phone disconnecting the call. He felt that at any moment the gunman would be firing at his door to get him. The gunman might even be climbing in through a window.
          Orlando had to find a place to hide until the police showed up. Every single place he thought of seemed too obvious. He hurried from room to room as he looked for a hiding place. The movers hadn’t arrived yet, Orlando didn’t have many options. 
          The sounds of the police sirens alerted Orlando that the big guns had arrived. It took Orlando a while to work up the nerve to answer his door at the constant banging. The policeman at the door was stocky, “We had a report of gunfire.” he said, very matter of fact.
          Orlando looked past the policeman’s shoulder. Didn’t they see the body out in the street? “Yeah, I called.  There was a shooting.”
          “Where?” the policeman asked.
          “He was out there.” Orlando said, as he wondered what was with all the questions.
          “Will you please step outside, sir?” The policeman looked irritated.
         
            Orlando did. As he cautiously followed the officer outside, he suddenly froze in utter disbelief. There was no body lying out in the street. There was no blood. There was absolutely nothing. Orlando walked past the policeman to the exact spot where the shooting happened. Standing in the middle of the street, he looked down at his feet asking himself, ‘What the hell just happened?’

Saturday, September 18, 2010

To Start...

Welcome to my blog! Let me tell you a story, for I think you will enjoy it. A bit presumptuous of me, maybe. But, hey after taking the trouble to click on my post you might as well read it and see for yourself what it is all about.

I have created a young adult tale, the title, 'The Zombie Story' each week I will add a little bit more of the story to my blog. The journey you are about to embark on with Orlando, who is our young hero, will further carry you away into a world of chaos.

Lets see what happens,

M.M. Shelley