Old Age and the Undead.

“Well that’s why we cremate, ain’t it,”

Why was it always the same? These educated Quacks coming down to ask questions about them. All these questions have been answered 1000 times. If any of them bothered to read the books written they would know all of this. Sure I am the last of the Night Corpsemen, but that doesn’t mean I want to answer stupid questions.

“Yes my hand is shaking, yes I am feeling a bit tired, I am 83.”

Back in the day the NC was more than just babysitter. They were the ones responsible for eradicating the monsters. Hell, he remembers blowing away 150 in one day. It was a lot easier than most thought. They didn’t move fast and they weren’t that strong, not like in the movies. They were dangerous in high numbers. He would never forget New york, must have been a million of the bastards. They did want to eat you, that movie portrayal was right on the money, which helped with the moral dilemma of popping them in the head.

The problem didn’t come until that idiot decided his mother should be protected. Biggest court case in history and the stupidest verdict. The monsters had rights, just like endangered animals. This meant that the remaining Undead had to be captured and put into a detention center. So here is where I am now. A glorified sitter of the last of the undead, no more glory, no more eradicating, just sitting and watching. All they did was wander around bumping into each other, at first.

The Quack excused himself. This is always when it gets interesting. I know where he’s going, down to the Pit to try and examine one. They all do it and in a way I am thankful. Gives me something to do. There he is in the monitor. Idiot’s actually opening the containment door. I am almost tempted to run down, but his funeral.

The Quack wanders into the pit with his little bag, leaving the door open. I see him in the monitor and I see them. They are quicker now, I keep telling them that they are different. So many years of hunger has made them quite voracious and fast. The speed that they devour the quack is really impressive. I glance over at the door monitor, it’s still open.

Funny thing is, I don’t care. I finally figured out I need them as much as they need me. They bolt out of the Pit like rapid dogs. They move as one, like a pack. It doesn’t take them long to get out of containment and into the night. I smile and pick up the phone.

“Yes, well the doctor you sent down here has screwed it all up! He let them escape…no….all of them. Of course…of course…I am already loading my gun. I am going to need a few deputies, these creatures are a bit different than the originals…great…and they are heading toward Vegas…You should worry…I told you they are different…fine…thanks.”

I hang up the phone and stand up. My bones are popping all over the place. Evolution is a funny thing when dealing with the Undead. The disease or virus or whatever they want to call it mutates and survives. It took them 2 years to finally send the Quack to inspect. Much too late. I know that by the time I get to Vegas half the town will be gone, but no one wants to listen to an old NC.

I wonder if the reaction would have been as slow if they knew? If they knew the stairs were steep and my legs weren’t so steady. Evolution is a wonderful thing, when I died I felt reborn. It was so hard to not rip the Quack open and have a taste, but I am sure once my deputies arrive we will all have a bit of a snack. It’s good to be dead…I can’t stop smiling.

Old Age and the Undead.

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