This is the beginning of a story fairly basic, with a simple premise. But I will not spoil before you do start to read. Because I am against the back covers. Indeed, if life was a back cover, how many of us they would refuse to read?
-
Night had long since fallen on the dirt road, and it was completely deserted now. The shadows of the surrounding forest threatened the lone rider who had the courage to continue his journey. The moon had reached its zenith and here and there pierced the foliage, giving the scene a blue light. The face of the passenger remained in the shadow of a linen cap. Despite the damp summer The man was wearing heavy clothing that covered completely. At his side hung a belt with silver clips tinkled lightly against the hilt of a sword in each stride of the standard. His hands were gloved in leather, his right holding firmly the reins of his thoroughbred black while constantly grazed his left custody of her blade. His eyes peered into the darkness with attention.
After a few minutes, the rider stopped. His frame seemed much excited that since the time he knew.
Grobak put foot-to-earth, and walked with a firm step towards the dilapidated remains, a relic from another time. He followed the troupe had to hope to find a safe place to spend the night. As always, he repassed mentally all the rules to check if he had broken no. A priori, not until now.
We understood very quickly why this house had remained uninhabited-until-today: large windows that let light through, devoid of gap delineation a ground-floor single-storey ... Nevermind the forest that had probably not covered all that territory at the time, but it was a miracle in itself, or an aberration, someone has allowed the construction of such building, no doubt some wealthy eccentric. And whoever it was who tried to find refuge, he seemed devoid of any form of common sense.
Grobak expected that it stirs. Confined spaces, he hated it. A dozen yards away, the door was still closed. But the house was still in darkness. Was a sign that rarely failed him. That and the shadow that went to one of the first floor windows.
He went the blade and stepped forward, sword straight. He prodded the handle of the door that opened without resistance. "If there was a secondary entrance, he thought, they would have attacked long ago. "
The door creaked slightly and his back, his horse retreated a few steps. He was right. Horses smell of death. Always. Hers was still young, and he was expected at any time that it runs off, which would not help his business. It must act as quickly as possible.
Once the door is open, if he could feel them, the reverse was true. And they certainly did not take long to come running from the upper floors. Grobak remounted his scarf over his face, said his grip on his gun and prepared to fight. All he needed was to hand over the letter. And it can recognize when its wearer would see. "The advantage, he thought it was that now I no longer have to track him down. It He will come to me. "
He enlisted without hesitation into the hall and closed the door behind him. The horse would be less likely to flee as well. The room was plunged into darkness when he heard the first grunt to his left. There was therefore the ground floor. And they would round up the others. Grobak smiled under his scarf. They were made fresh daily, five, six at most, it would not hurt to hold them all.
He held out his arm on the left, in line with his shoulder. Although his shot phone, the roar of the creature sounded again. He missed the skull. At trial, he plunged into the chest of his opponent, a sacred song. He withdrew his blade to deal a second blow, the latter in size, but much more violent, twenty centimeters above. The hoarse moan died in the throat of the person whose head is detached from the body.
The bully ventured into the room which had emerged the first creature. At least she was bathed in moonlight, he could also rely on his sight. Simultaneously, rapid footsteps were heard on the stairs, followed by screaming animals. Grobak stood ready. And a few seconds after they entered the halo light. There were three. They had already no longer human. Their faces had been torn, chewed, the right eye of one who was facing him hung shabbily retained by the optic nerve in its orbit widens. Between the ribs laid bare a dagger sticking out of the second down there with the strength of despair. The third spread into pieces of rotten flesh.
The first infected with the company had to find elsewhere. For they all end up this way, the incubation was due not only dramatic, but mostly invisible. A case of spontaneous survival?
The messenger was not there. This annoyed many Grobak. And if he had managed to escape?
His movements were much more accurate this time, he had to hurry. The first undead just had time to raise an arm as the sword of Grobak already sunk between his jaws gaping to show at the occiput. He collapsed just the swordsman lunged for a shot that won the top half of the second skull. The last attempt to grab his arm, he broke the tibia in one fell swoop. While his body sprawling Grobak beheaded him. There was no time for further refinement. His horse would soon draw to himself all the undead around.
Still hooded, he ascended the stairs. Intuitively, he went directly to the second floor. They had been relatively noisy downstairs. If no other undead no one had contacted, that they would be busy elsewhere.
When he reached the landing of the second, he heard the noise characteristics of chewing. His only thought was for the letter: "Provided it is legible. "
The top floor was fitted with panoramic windows that allowed him to see as distinctly as the outside. He did not ask for much. He plunged with a crash the door of the room from where the agitation macabre. Both creatures were full meals. The smell was unbearable for many. He had just got to get used to.
Before they make mine stand up, he struck his sword Grobak who carried the skull of the first as if the blade had passed through, and continued its momentum to resolve the spinal cord of the second depth. His head tipped forward without completely separate from the trunk, still used by some tendons. The body sank limply to the side. As a precaution, and although he seemed unable to move because of the state in which his two former henchmen had left, Grobak beheaded their "feast" before he wakes up.
Grobak swore. The messenger was not there, so he had managed to leave before the epidemic struck the group as a whole. He had to leave. Now.
The bully turned round. He heard a noise. Inside or outside? He ran up large windows. Other creatures came out of the forest. The horse was still there, even if it seemed to struggle against his instincts not to flee. Brave beast.
Grobak fell down the stairs. He had heard of shaking on the lower floors. It was an advantage driven by hunger, the corpses were noisy. But in this case, it seemed more numerous than Grobak had first imagined. All around him, in rooms, stairs on the landing, he could already hear the groans of the dead resonate. Far too many. Those in the troupe who had escaped had not passed through the main door. It was therefore a secondary entrance. He rushed, it sure did not.
He never could not get away with rushing into the crowd. But to die without give everything seemed unbearable. Already one dead man grabbed his arm. He tried to break into the leather of his glove with his teeth, but his jaw dislocated. He had less than a year. Too old to be dangerous, too young to regenerate. Grobak shot him a powerful blow with the hilt of his sword, his neck and let out a loud crackling. He swept the area with his weapon, and three other creatures slumped. Five were already taking place. He cast a quick glance around, the windows were all out of reach at this level. Thinking, fast. There was too much for it attempts a breakthrough on the ground floor. He could not go back. It would have been a rookie mistake. "Not the worst I've done today, he thought. .
He rushed back up the stairs to the second floor. He saw clearly, any form of fear or eagerness not disturb its ruling. It had never been prey. He sheathed his blade and ran. Below him, the grunts became more pronounced, and not became heavier. They were running now. He had no time to worry. So he plunged without hesitation through the windows.
Then everything unfolded in slow motion. He turned to the side as they rolled into a ball slightly to lessen the fall. It found exactly the distance that separated him from the ground: 7m50. The garden had been a semblance of development, even if it had been centuries earlier. It might not be approved on a rock. It could easily reach his horse before the undead.
Everything was going to play in a few seconds ahead.
Suddenly the door opened from the villa on the fly, releasing a stream of impressive walking corpses. Many more than he had envisaged, actually. Grobak not touch the ground before two seconds, an eternity. Until then, they would be on him.
Without really knowing why, he took his sword and dealt a blow towards the ground. The blade stuck in the soft earth. With this decision he pulled on his arm for leverage and thus propel themselves a bit further. He had won almost one meter and the acceleration he needed. He made a roulade, took advantage of the momentum to pick up and run to his horse. Surrounded by decaying bodies, he rushed in all directions. He stopped and began to gallop towards the dirt road. Grobak could not let him escape. It branched off to cut the path of his horse.
It was a few meters from the thoroughbred. He held out a hand to seize him by the jaw, try to calm him down without stopping it completely.
Suddenly he fell. His foot had become entangled in human stem-and-hungry visibly covered with earth and leaves. That which was unexpected. "Not now, thought he. Not now! "
His hand closed by reflex on the flange of the standard, which continued to gallop. He no longer tried to stop him. He assured his decision yet, and wrapped himself in his cloak. He must avoid injuries.
It should continue to seek the messenger. He did not realize the importance of information it held. Maybe we could finally overcome the fear millennium.
Grobak, still clinging to his horse disappeared into the haze at night.
-
Where would the world if it never existed. Undead, ghosts, men hollow, not dead ... We gave them so many names. And yet we still do not know where they come from, what they are, what is their purpose.
's writings show that they have always existed. Since the dawn times, we must share our earth with these creatures who are unemotional face of our loved ones to better devour us. Is this the macabre legacy of our distant ancestors? In a civilization that would have born the seeds of its own destruction?
The most recent theories simply want them to be carriers of infection. But what kind of disease is capable of simulating death to better deceive us? Lunacy is that injuries that we do not reach their deadly cause any pain?
We put forward several millennia to flourish despite their presence, to build cities scattered communities of pretenses. Thanks to our adaptability, we have for some time limited the threat they represented.
But man is a wolf to man. One day, a community emerges, then another. Someone tries to consolidate his power, his domination. And so wars broke out. We are not yet sufficiently numerous to enable us to grow their ranks.
Sometimes they seem to have totally disappeared. And when we least expect it, they come back stronger. Time is on their behalf. We thought they were all slow, clumsy, that their only strength lay in the mass. But they also began to evolve. Their withered skin began to regenerate. Some have become faster, more vicious ... Quieter too. And their number is growing daily.
But all is not lost yet. Humanity is full of resources, and clings to any fragment of hope that ridiculous willing to cede. It is there, somewhere, this hope. And now we know who they are.
I sent a safe man to bring us this hope. Now, wait.
