As it had appeared that the undead were able to attack with renewed vigor, and that it would take some time for the new bodies to rot, the remaining Founding Fathers met in a building that had all of the doors and windows barred. John Adams began the meeting and explained exactly what the situation was. “How do we know that these things are going to even rot quickly enough? Autumn is almost upon us, and these cursed things may be able to continue on even longer.” shouted out one man from the group. “General Washington and Mr. Franklin have been plotting a way to defeat this menace. What we know, is that these things are attracted to not only the smell of humans, but the smell of cooking meat as well. We may be able to lure them all into a trap, but we do not know where. As was pointed out, we cannot rely on the natural process to defeat these things, so we need ideas.” said John Adams. “Sir, while we cannot rely on summer to rot these things away, we may be able to lure them all into a cave. When they attacked Boston, I had sought refuge on top of my building and pulled a ladder up with me. These things show no interest in climbing. I know of a large cavern that we may be able to lure these undead into. All we would have to do is cave in the entrance, and then they would be sealed away. Even if they managed to survive, I do not think that they are capable of digging through solid rock.” suggested Thomas Jefferson. “Then, unless any other suggestions are made, we shall bury these corpses inside the cavern.” said John Adams. After a moment of silence, the meeting was completed.
To make up for not doing much for the Zombie story, and having the last part turning out like crap, I have re-done it, and hopefully everybody likes this version better.
As Jennifer Miller went off to report her success, the undead army began to literally fall apart. The heat of summer was causing the walking corpses to rot, and they began to decompose into chunks of putrid meat. The army may have died within a few days if they hadn’t fed on the British. The new bodies, now all of them wearing tattered red uniforms, began their march on Boston, the next nearest place that had the smell of meat wavering on the wind.
Button Gwinnett was shopping in the streets of Boston, he had already signed the Declaration of Independence, and he was heading home. It was as he was looking into the window of one store that he heard the screams, followed quickly by gunshots. He turned to look down the street, and saw the red-clad corpses chasing down the living. He turned around quickly to run, and hid inside a shop full of various farming supplies. The shopkeeper was hiding behind the counter, making himself as small as possible, and Button quickly grabbed a small scythe that was hanging on the wall. After a few moments of nothing but the screams outside, Button began to sneak a look out the window. An undead smashed its head through the window and just barely missed sinking its teeth into Button’s collar bone. In reaction, he shoved the scythe into the face of the monster, spurting coagulated blood everywhere, much of it spattering onto Gwinnet’s face. Chokeing on the putrid matter, he ran into the back of the shop and began to vomit. There, he continued to vomit, even after the chaos was over. The shopkeeper who was lucky enough to survive the attack helped Button home, and called for a doctor.
The Upierci scout was watching from the trees, his job was to carefully watch the tensions between the Order and the Danor. Last night, the Order assassinated the men and women who made up the council that ran the Danor of the region. The Order may be highly organized, but their tactics left something to be desired. The Danor may have lost their leaders, but the chaos was superficial. They already had plans in the event that a leader, or all of the leaders, died. The chaos that could have fooled an ordinary outsider was merely how the Danor always were. The Danor already knew who had attacked them; the Order had their signatures that they never forgot to leave. As the men and women of the Danor went to work starting their process of figuring out how to respond to the attack, the Upierci scout scrambled off to his tribe’s castle, nestled in the trees near the swamp that was attacked yesterday. The planning of the Upierci was never as long-winded as the Danor and never as ritualistic as the Order of the Silent Flame, because their reason for fighting was for food. Besides, the two groups were always incredibly easy to predict, despite all of the voting the Danor did, they always had a preference to counter attack. And the Order always attacked at night, always choosing the offensive, believing that the world needed to be purified for the arrival of the supposed god of fire and silence. Hopefully, the other scout did his job correctly and spotted the entrance to the underground lair of the Order. The last scout that failed when he fell asleep ended up being part of dinner the next night.
The massive cathedral was filled with black-robed men and women whose faces were hidden by their hoods. The cathedral was built inside of a cavern, and the cave that led to it was easily hidden by the heavy vegetation in the forest outside. Inside of the cathedral, a single file line of robed individuals were being led down the center. There was no sound; no singing that would be expected in a normal church. When the single file line gathered in a row on a platform in front of everybody, those on the platform removed their hoods, revealing the faces of mere teenagers. They were all fourteen years of age, and this was their rite of passage. One single man, wearing the same garbs as the rest of the men and women in the silent cathedral, took a spike that had been resting in a simple, unadorned bowl filled with fire and coals. The tip was a glowing red, and the spike itself was approximately two feet long and heavily engraved with hieroglyphs. The man walked up to each young adult, and in a ritual-like fashion, he raised the spike, and the teen would lift their head to look straight at the massive, adorned ceiling, open their mouths, and the man would carefully place the spike down their throats. Many of the young adults doubled over once the spike had been removed, and began coughing up blood, but none of them screamed. They had prepared for this moment their whole lives, by study, and by other rituals of fire. Once the ceremony came to a close, those that had their throats scalded received their eye patches, and their daggers. The hieroglyphs on the spike had read: “Silence is our shield, fire is our sword. Spoken words betray.”
They were called the Order of the Silent Flame. They waited for all of the Danor to fall asleep, or pass out in a few cases. With the new moon in the sky and the fires put out, it was so dark that one would be unable to see more than a few inches in front of their face. As such, even if the patrols were awake, they would have been unable to see the black cloaked figures moving slowly through the camp. The figures all wore what appeared at first to be black eye patches, and they all carried long, silver daggers with strange inscriptions on them. After carefully stepping around the numerous explosive traps that infested the camp, they walked silently into the variously sized tents and stood over the men and women lying in the beds. One thing that these men and women had in common was that they made up the loosely organized council of that particular grouping of the Danor. Once all of the cloaked figures were in place, the stood in place for a second, and then a small flash of light shone under the eye patches they wore. Immediately afterward the figures raised their daggers in unison, and brought them down onto the necks of their targets, all of this happening without a single sound happening, even the blood that dripped fell onto soft blankets noiselessly. And just like that, after silencing their targets, they disappeared as if they were nothing but specters.
Ok, so my writers block hasn’t completely subsided, if anybody has any ideas, don’t be afraid to leave a comment.
“Sir, Jennifer Miller has returned with news of success.” said the young boy. George Washington told the boy to let her in. “There has been an incident since you left. It seems that during the day while you were with the British, Boston was also attacked. These undead seem to be in greater number than we previously thought. We still need a way to eradicate these undead. Benjamin, I don’t suppose you have any ideas yet, do you?” asked Washington.
Sorry to stall a bit on the Zombie story. When I can get past a small block, I will make sure to put up the next part.
Despite the failure of the mission, the Danor group still celebrated vigorously, brawling, copulating, eating, drinking, anything that made them feel alive. One would have mistaken them for being perfectly careless. What a person outside of the group would have missed is the large number of mines, and tripwires set up to keep strangers from invading. The childhood of the Danor is usually filled with close calls as the parents teach the children how to notice small things, like twigs and stones that are out of place, for that is where the deadly traps are always hidden. The assault on the group’s encampment by the Upierci was a lure, one that the Danor swallowed because they are a prideful people. It was their downfall, but because they rarely had casualties on their own soil, they had a habit of taking a blood for blood view on attacks on their home. Of course, although they had been trained since childhood to look for clues on land, another old nemesis was sending their probes to search underground for weak points.