The Village of Dead Souls: A Zombie Novel (2 page)

"A gift?"

"You will collect and process the
thread
of life inside your new body. When you have obtained the needed
amount,
your gift will be immunity to all forms of cancer."

"Pardon my ignorance of what you are telling
me,
but I do not understand what I am to do and what gift I will offer. You speak in
words that
I feel only the Behemoths would understand. As you have already
referenced,
I am only a
mortal,
but a mortal with many questions. These are questions any human man would ask when given this opportunity. How does Apollo pull the sun across the sky without burning up his chariot? If Atlas is holding the earth, what platform
do his feet
rest upon? Exactly where does Medusa live? I would not want to walk into her lair
accidentally
. There
have
been many
occasions, where
I have altered my
course,
due to an unknown cave in my path."

As the white void enveloped him,
Zeus smiled
, but
did not answer. Prometheus closed the distance between him and the god while he rubbed his eyes to gain better focus on Zeus. When he opened his eyes, he saw a world he could never
have
imagined. All around him, buildings as tall as mountains with mirrors for windows. Streets covered with a black as tar type of pavement. No carts or chariots
could
be seen anywhere.
Instead,
the roads filled with wagons made of bright painted metal and they moved along the black roads without the use of horses. They made a rumbling sound like distant thunder of an approaching storm. The wheels did not make much noise and were not made of wood. They appeared solid and
black,
just like the road.

Prometheus took a few steps toward an area with green grass and trees. With all the confusion in his mind, it looked to be the only familiar site. As he walked, he noticed his body did not move as easily as he remembered. Glancing at his hands, he did not recognize them or his arms, or his legs. His entire body appeared
different,
as did the strange clothes. He saw his reflection in a window of the building behind him. A person he had never seen stared back; a man with pale almost gray skin. It couldn't be him. He lifted his arms and moved his head as the reflection did the same. He touched his face with his fingertips of both hands. His skin did not feel right and
it
looked too pale. It felt cold and dry with little elasticity. The people around him walked passed with no concern to his situation. They wore similar bizarre
clothing made of
bright colors. Both men and women wore pants and shirts. Not a single person had a tunic or a toga. Only
a
few women wore dresses and even
then,
the fabric did little to cover their legs.

He turned to a young man, whose dark hair pointed up in a spiked kind of way, and asked, "Pardon
me,
good sir, could you tell me what city we are in? I feel my conversation with Zeus has left my mind bewildered."

The young man gave Prometheus an odd look as he walked past without saying a word. He tried to ask the next woman who walked by, but before he could finish his
question;
she picked up the pace of her
walk,
and gave him an angry stare while she sped past him. Fear built up inside the Greek man. He made a general announcement to all on the sidewalk with him. "I only ask a kind favor from you good people. I have somehow arrived in your city and do not know where I am. Could one of you please offer some simples
guidance,
so I
might
find my way home? I live in
Athens
.
Perhaps,
you are on your way to the market there and I can join you on your journey."

An older man placed his hand on Prometheus's shoulder and
spoke
to him in words which sounded like complete gibberish, moans and hissing. As Prometheus tried to respond, the expression of
concern
on the old man's face,
turned
to
fear,
as he retracted his hand and walked away. Paying closer attention to the conversations around him,
he realized that
they all spoke in this strange language. It did not sound like actual words
, but
more like grunts and groans.
Sure
ly
,
he would find someone who spoke his
tongue.
So
he decided to walk around the area and listen to the
conversations,
but all the people spoke
using
the same incomprehensible words.

On the other side of the grass and trees, he saw a large group of people marching in a kind of parade. They walked
slowly,
dragging their feet with stiff upper body movements. Their clothes looked torn and dirty and most were covered with blood. Prometheus concluded they must have returned from a battle. Most of they people in this
macabre
promenade appeared
happy,
and
they
carried vessels filled with
ale,
so they must have won the war.
Perhaps,
these victorious soldiers would help him get home.

His
strange body continued to feel stiff as he moved. He felt as if he walked the same as the people in the celebration. When he finally reached the crowd, he noticed their wounds and blood appeared to be nothing more than stage
makeup
. They wore costumes
making
them look as if they
were
the dead who have come back to life. He concluded it must be a celebration of a long ago victory over an enemy. Music radiated through the
area,
but he could not see the musicians anywhere. The vocals of the songs were the same type of strange language spoken by those around him. With his hand extended, he asked for help again. Even
though,
this group spoke in the same grunts and moans, they did not seem frightened of him as the people across the park. One person in the celebration placed a cup full of beer in his extended hand.

Confused, Prometheus sniffed the
drink,
which he recognized. He could not smell the aroma
that
he expected. In
fact,
he
realized,
he could not smell much of anything around him. The trees and flowers in full bloom offered no fragrance. Trapped in a strange
body,
where he did not know how to take control of the
senses,
only added to his
overall
befuddlement
. He took a sip of the beer and could feel the liquid on his
throat,
but it gave no flavor or sense of temperature. Hoping he could get some kind of sensation, he quickly drank the entire cup. Doing
so,
seemed to make the young people in costumes happy and someone handed him another beverage. "No. I appreciate your kindness to include me in your strange celebration of the
dead.
" Prometheus downed the second
beer.
“But
I need your help to return to my home. I do not live in this grand metropolis which you inhabit. Would someone offer such a kindness?"

He turned and watched the costumed people in celebration walk past him. They continued to speak in the unknown
language,
but appeared to be pleased with his stressful situation. Through the sounds of the moans and groans and the loud music, he heard a lone voice speak to him. "Hey Butt Head, that beer isn't going to do much for you, you're dead."

Prometheus turned to find the source of the
voice
. On the edge of the
sidewalk,
stood a tall black haired slender man in a dark suit and red tie. His white shirt had a patch of blood around a hole pierced through the pocket. Across his
outfit,
his clothes had areas of dirt and scuff marks. "Yeah, I'm talking to
you,
"
the
man said.

Prometheus took a few steps toward the man in the suit. "Finally, someone who speaks Attic Greek."

"I don't speak Greek. I speak American."

"I have not heard of such a
word,
nor have I heard it spoken. The only languages I speak are Attic Greek and Latin. If I understand your
words,
you must be speaking in one of those two-"

The man in the suit interrupted, "Awww great, you're another one of those ancient guys."

"I do not understand your words in their entirety. Let me start with a proper introduction." Prometheus extended his hand and stepped closer to the man. "My name is Prometheus. I hail from
Athens
."

As Prometheus grabbed the man's forearm and patted his shoulder, the man replied, "Yeah, I'm Vic and I hail from
Chicago
."

"Is
the city where we stand right now,
Chicago
?"

"No, we're in
Denver
. Ironically, the folks here are right in the middle of their Zombie Festival. This is the big mall crawl where they get dead drunk… Get it, dead drunk."

The Athenian shook his head in confusion. "I do not understand this celebration. Are you in a position to assist me in my efforts to get back to
Athens
?"

"
Look,
Mr.
Proper
Pants-"

"Prometheus."

"Whatever, you're not going to
Athens
, you're not going to back to your time,
and
you're not going to finish you're conversation with
Socrates
or visit Atlantis again. You are a few thousand years in the future and you have a lot to learn before you can get started on your mission."

"
Mission
?"

"Yeah, we've all been given a mission. Just follow me and keep your pie hole shut."

"Pie hole?"