The Further Adventures of Val Williams # 2 - The Awakening, pt. I

Romero cemetery.

Abbott jogged through the front gate with his gun held tightly in both hands, barrel pointed to the ground. He stopped and ducked behind a tombstone as he saw the murky blue mist swirl about forty yards ahead. He could see it, but it was dark, real dark.

***

My inner thighs are starting to chafe from all this jogging. If I don’t find this crazy chick, we’re all screwed. I don’t know what she thinks she saw, but I can take a wild guess. She thought the kid was a werewolf. Could have fooled me too, way he tore into me. I would have liked to hang on to that moon rock, but this is more important. This woman I’m chasing: is she a believer or did she fall under some spell or suggestion? How could someone mistake a prepubescent boy for a werewolf? Either way, I’d better find her and knock some sense into her. I wish I hung on to that moon rock.

***

“Is he dead,” Padraic asked.

“The kid killed him,” Dagda was crouched down beside the body of Khaddafiy, sprawled on the pavement.

“Tore his throat out,” he said, then swallowed hard.

Boann hugged little Gary and said, “he doesn’t remember.” She wiped away a couple tears and said, “thank God.”

“No,” Dagda said sharply, “this has nothing to do with Him.”

“Who was this guy, anyway,” Padraic asked, digging for Khaddafiy’s wallet, looking for money.

“Whoever he was,” Dagda said, “I guess he got what he was looking for.”

Boann shielded Little Gary from the horror of Khaddafiy lying in the street with the moon rock in his hand.

***

Something stirred in the blue mist. It was all Abbott could do not to turn and run the other way. He tried to read the tombstone over and over again. It was very old and faded, and it was very dark out.

Something, something memory of Thomas Webb, who something suddenly, something, aged 33 years, something, he was something, something, called back to the flock too early. Something - 1769.

Abbott said a silent prayer, and peeked around the side. He saw something on the ground, beneath the mist. It was dark and he was quite far away, but he could see it, definitely. A movement perhaps, or a disturbance of the ground. A twig or branch suddenly perked up from the ground toward the sky, as if pulled by a magnet. There was a cluster of them …

No. It was a hand.

Abbott opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. He turned to run, but when he looked up, the blue mist was everywhere.

To be continued...