AW YEAH!

Now we are getting somewhere! Sorry, no John this time. But we've had a lot of him, now it's time for some other characters to get a little screen time.

ENJOY

OR DON'T.

I'm not your mother.


SHERLOCK

The rain has finally stopped. Good. I can continue my journey home. If I can remember it. There are a few of my fellow kind wandering about. They pay me no attention. Just making their rounds for the day. I try and remember the paths we took, any familiar buildings. Eventually I find a store with an eye-catching display that looked familiar. I decided to go inside. It contained books, discs and toys. I select a blue box from a shelf and pocket it. As well as some of the discs. I decide against the books. My reading is still nowhere near book level. Gladstone plays with a red thing that had fallen on the floor. It resembled a salt or pepper shaker. It has a something poking out of it's side. Which it seems can be turned. The little wheels on the bottom move when I let go of the wind up mechanism. So I repeat the action and place it on the floor. It spins in a circle and around Gladstone, who appears delighted with it. Very well. I will take that also.

We leave shortly after I had taken two more of the pepper pots, a wind up blue box and a very long scarf that Gladstone had dug his claws into. My own scarf is wet and like a rag. I throw everything into my pack and head down the road. So many cars, why had people not taken them when they escaped I wonder. Where they killed before they could? Cars are horrible beasts. I give them a wide berth. How much father, I wonder? It did not take us long to reach the safe house, but we had been on a motorcycle. It's not that I don't mind walking, it's just...very boring. And the cold has made me feel numb.

How much time will it take for me to get home?


I hear the sound of the motor and duck behind some rubble. It's a large armoured vehicle. Why were they here? It's not uncommon for the living to venture out of their safe haven, but so soon after the previous group? Unless, perhaps the Compound is not the only one of its kind. It would make sense. It is naive to think that that place is the only one of it's kind in the world. Others must have survived and created similar havens. It's stopping. Several people get out. Five men and two women. One of the woman starts to smoke and the man next to her complains. They all carry weapons. But they are too far away for me to hear them. Wait, two of them are missing. Where did they go? Why have they stopped here anyway? There is nothing of use for them to collect. Most humans head for medical centres...

Sometime wraps it's around my shoulders, trapping my upper arms. I struggle in surprise and another flies over my head. A lasso my mind supplies me. They have lassoed me twice and now I can't move my arms. But I can still move my feat! One of the men laughs as I attempt to kick him in the stomach, dodging easily. I lunge forward, attempting to bit him in the neck, but he deflects me with the edge of a knife. I can see my reflection in it. I look like a monster.

"Not bad, not bad. Most don't even get that close. Bronson, get the sack." Sack?

The man named Bronson removes a hessian sack that had been rolled and fastened at his waist. He throws it over my head and ties it tight. It's so long it reaches my hands, still trapped at my side. Something slams into my back, most likely a foot and I fall to my knees. People are talking around me. But the hessian muffles the sound. Finally a voice appears by my ear.

"Alright, don't panic. We're going for a little ride. Sorry about all this, but we weren't sure how you would react. Now, I know you don't like cars but you won't have to look out the window and we won't travel too fast. Aren't we nice? Come on, up you get." His arms lift me to my feet and a hand on my lower back gently pushes me forward. Might as well comply, they would probably shoot me if I didn't. My leg hits a step and I instinctually step up onto small stairs leading into the back of the van. One person pushes me so I hard I fall forward onto my stomach. I can hear him being reprimanded.

I feel strangely calm about my current situation. Perhaps it's because I've already lost what I most cared about. And perhaps because I might learn something, wherever they are taking me. I like knowledge. I want to know more. I still, however, feel numb. I still wish I felt nothing. I am at odds with my self. I want to know everything, I want to evolve. But at the same time, knowing how much it would hurt, knowing that there are somethings perhaps I will never be able to master...Shouldn't being a zombie, be easier than being alive?

The van is moving. I wondering where we are going?

What happened to Gladstone?


MORAN

I have him. It was easy. We are on our way back -SM

Excellent! I won't see him tonight. Busy, busy. Lock him up when you get home. We will have to begin our fun tommorow. -JM

You're the boss. -SM

And don't you forget it. By the way, she's arrived and she is being as difficult as usual. But I feel this time things might be a lot more interesting. I want to see just how much he can learn. JM

You've only told me this several times, Jim. I have to go, I want to look through his things. -SM

Can't that wait till you get here? I want to look too! -JM

Stop being a child. Goodbye -SM

You're no fun. Why do we even know each other? -JM

Because you need me. -SM.

I don't know everything he has planned for you, zombie. But be thankful he wants to keep you alive, not discard you like the others. He finds you interesting, so stay interesting. The things he has planned for the world, he wants you to be a part of it. You should be grateful.

"Hey, do something! Ugh, so boring!" One of my men started to kick the zombie, still laying on the ground. I lunge forward, grabbing his ankle before he can strike again and twist it.

"Do not harm the merchandise. I realise you are new, but we need him whole."

"You mean we can't hurt him? What kind of bullshit is that?!" The boy, for that's what he is really, nurses his injured limb and glares.

"He's dead, you can not hurt him in any case. And the boss wants him whole. Who pays you?"

"The boss." The child sighs. "I only joined so I could hurt them though. They killed my whole family..." A familiar story.

"How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen." So young. Don't burn out fast kid. What a world to grow up in.

"Plenty of us have lost family or friends to the undead, be thankful you are alive. Don't worry, you will get to hunt some zombies at some point. But not the ones we collect. They are the boss's playthings." The kid gleefully chuckled and sank back down to the floor of the van.

"What does he do with them?"

"He tries to teach them. He learns what makes them tick. If they prove useless, he abandons them. If they turn into bonies, well, then we kill them." This is a lie of course. If they are useless we kill them. He experiments on them. But I don't want the zombie to hear. He's smarter than the average corpse. Which is why I don't think the boss will discard this one. If it proves useless, he will probably keep it as a pet. But he wants this one for something important. Something the others can't learn about yet.

"Bonies are horrible." The boy shudders, speaking the obvious.

They are true monsters. The zombies are halfway between pure innocence and destruction. Almost human, almost a monster. People really don't understand them. Well most people.


"Boss?" Bronson calls out from the front seat. "We're almost there." How time flies. A few hours have ticked by already.

"Come on, everyone out! Don't worry about him, I'll get it." I grabbed the zombie by his ties and pull him to his feet.

"We are here. Come, time to show you your new home."


SHERLOCK

Here...but where is here? And I am sure it will never be my home. After all, isn't home where your heart is?