Author M.M. Shelley

          Orlando had just been to an underground Zombie fight club. Not only had he just been to an underground Zombie fight club but he had been a participant. There had been three Zombies. Ruben and Orlando wasted no time destroying them. After it was finished Ruben took off.   He said he had to be somewhere but he didn’t say where.           Orlando drove home on his Sportster. He had not enjoyed the killing. He pulled up to the house; it was too early in the day for his parents to be home from work but his grandfather would be home. ‘What questions would his grandfather have for him?’ Orlando thought as he sat on the Sportster looking up at the house.           He heard the TV on as he entered the house; he found his grandfather watching TV. Upon hearing Orlando , his grandfather turned it off.        ...

           Ruben took Orlando into the city; the streets were crowded with cars and people. Orlando didn’t think that zombies would be hanging out in the open. But Ruben seemed to know what he was talking about. He told Orlando that he had been hunting zombies for a while. That he enjoyed it, he liked the rush that it gave him.           Orlando rode his Sportster, Ruben had his own ride his was a blue Kawasaki sport Z1000. Ruben expected Orlando to follow him but yet when he turned down streets he would turn at the last possible second. He thought maybe Ruben didn’t have any idea where they were going.           They drove by union station headed south towards North Broadway. Ruben pulled up stopping at a bakery. Orlando parked alongside him.           “Why are we stopping here? You hungry or some...

It was the oddest looking school he had seen. He knew L.A. was going to be a strange place. He just hadn’t figured it would be strange in so many ways. Orlando rode up on his Harley Davidson Sportster. It had only needed a few minor repairs. He added oil, replaced a few parts and managed to get it running. His school was divided into parts along a jagged hill. The parking lot was located at the bottom of the hill. The hike up wasn’t too bad. It gave him a chance to look things over. He kept getting peculiar looks as he made his way up the hill. He thought it might be the odd looking object he had wrapped in a black binding that was creating the interest. He had rigged his sword to his backpack. It was awkward but he didn’t feel good without it around. He figured that if anyone asked him about it, he would just say it was for his fencing lessons after school. He heard the other students comment about him as he made his way up the hill. None of them seemed to care if he heard them or n...

The next morning as Orlando opened his bedroom door to go downstairs, he found the sword that Maxwell had held the night before standing in place before him. The sword was unsheathed; the blade tip rested upon the wooden floor; it did not pierce the floorboards. Orlando closed his bedroom door, waited a moment, and opened it again. Yes, the sword was still there. He hadn’t imagined it. What it was doing there, he did not know. Reaching out for it, he took the green handle into his left hand, examining it closely.           What was he suppose to do with this? Hunt Zombies? Just how was he supposed to do that? Tossing the sword onto his bed, he headed downstairs for breakfast. His mother was downstairs and about to head out for work. “You start school tomorrow,” she reminded him.           “Yeah,” he said as he opened the fridge.           “I know you w...