Zombies: Source of the Problem

EQ2 Humor by Coyote

"Zombies. The walking dead. Reanimated corpses brought back to serve an
unknown purpose. Hungry for the flesh of the living, these soulless damned have
plagued Norrath for hundreds, if not thousands of years? But what are they?
Where do they come from? And how can we fight them?" A large cat man holding a
microphone stares into a news camera as he preludes his story.

"This is Coyotee Sharptongue for Ten Ton Hammer news reporting to you LIVE
from the Thundering Steppes where I am joined today by local legend and hunter
of the undead, Curly Witherflesh." The reporter introduces as a well tanned
human warrior moves into view. A monstrous axe slung over his back, the man's
steel eyes take in his surroundings as he approaches.

I moved with a relaxed gait as I brought myself in front of the camera for
the world see. Steely eyes surveyed the environment as I remained ever ready for
the first sign of the inevitable attack.

"Thank you Coyote, it's good to be here." The battle ready human said with a
slight bow of his head, completely ignoring the fact that he had just openly and
loudly narrated his own movement on screen.

"Um. Right." The reporter said flatly as he glanced around quickly. "Can you
tell us in your own words Mister Witherflesh, how does one get into the zombie
hunter trade?" He asked shaking off the weird little self narration.

I stood before him in awe. Never so close have I been to such beauty. Such
grace. From his jade eyes that could rob your heart from your chest to his
chiseled jaw line I forced myself to focus on my words and not this effigy of
perfection before me.

"Well, you have to study the beast, appreciate it for it's deadly beauty and
you have to respect it. Knowing how to kill a zombie isn't the same as fighting
one Coyotee. The two are night and day, and while any man can have knowledge -
few have the courage to face the walking dead." Curly explained in all
seriousness, never once acknowledging his obvious narrations as if his inner
monologue weren't being spoken in a loud clear voice.

"Um..and..uh.." Looking around again Coyotee tried to continue the interview.
"Are..there a lot of..um..zombies around?" He asked nervously, his eyes glancing
off scene.

"Well Coyote, the zombie activity has been low as of late, but even when they
are as quiet as a mouse - you still have to remain vigilant." Curly says
solemnly as he looks into the camera.

He asked his questions with a child-like innocence and unknowing charm. If
only he were aware of the countless nights I had spent camped outside his
window, staring in with unblinking eye in the hopes of catching even the
smallest glimpse of his soft, silken fur.

Blinking slowly in disbelief Coyotee looked around before turning to the
grizzled human.

"Who...did...my...who..MY house?" The reporter asked hesitantly as Curly
laughed shaking his head.

"I said MOUSE. Quiet as a MOUSE." The zombie hunter chuckled as he looked
into the camera.

"But I suspect that'll all be changing soon." Curly says solemnly looking
into the camera. "I've seen these patterns before, and the dead are surely on
the cusp of rising." He warns with serious eye.

"So..um..uh...wh..where do these undead come from?" Coyotee asks, forgetting
the previous narration as he clears his throat and continues the interview.

Me! They came from me! I wanted to scream as I thought back to the
numberless nights I spent raising the dead from their rest just so he would
notice me! Slaying zombies and ghouls that I myself created in the vain hope
that he would look beyond his own world and into mine? So that he could see my
love? What would it take to exist in his world, to gain his notice? Name thy
price fate for I would gladly pay…

"That's anyone's guess my friend. But I can tell you where I'm sending them!"
Curly grins with macho flair as he hefts his axe. "Back to HELL where they
belong!" He says with a wink as he holds his weapon for the camera to see.

Blinking rapidly Coyotee looks from the camera to the weathered human in
stunned silence.

Unsure what to say the reporter looks around for assistance before turning
helplessly back to the axe wielding Witherflesh.

"Why...why are you raising the dead?" The cat-man asks in a small voice, his
nervousness is obvious and easily read.

"Raising? You mean SLAYING right?" Curly laughs as he turns to face Coyotee.
"I kill them because it is my sworn duty to protect Qeynos and her citizens.
Why, Citizens like you Coyotee!" He chortles as he winks at the reporter.

People like you who have never once noticed me no matter what I've done, I
thought as I stood there with that fake smile plastered on my face. I was just
another toy for your amusement. A warrior doing his job and slaying the undead
that you couldn't be bothered with. Had you stopped even for a moment to ask if
I needed help, had you looked beyond your trite little "job" for even an instant
maybe you would have noticed that the zombies I fought so bravely for your
attention were your own family, I laughed inside. Imagining the look on his face
as he saw his dearly departed Aunt screaming for the flesh of the living brought
me some solace and helped strengthen my facade.

"A..Aunt Gertie?" Coyotee whimpered in barely audible tones as alarm rose to
the face of the self explaining human.

I knew our bond was great, our connection forged by the gods themselves,
but I swore at that moment that he had read my mind. Could it be? I had to
know.

"What was that son?" Curly asked for clarification as he grinned up at the
reporter.

Composing himself slightly Coyotee offered a smile as he looked at the
camera.

"I was..uh..just saying that-" The reporter's thoughts were quickly cut off
by the narrations once more.

I listened intently as he spoke, each word singing into my heart like an
angel's song, hoping - praying that I was wrong. What would I do if this
creature of perfection could indeed hear my thoughts? What if he knew of my
actions and deeds? It was at that very moment, listening to his explanation that
I knew in my heart, that if he could indeed hear my words....

The human warrior's words trailed off as he looked up expectantly at the
faltering reporter.

"I..just..that..um..." Coyotee stammered as he searched for the words to save
him from the insane psychopath at his side.

...I would have to kill him. Alone at night as he slept, I would use the
spare key that he keeps under the flowerpot on the ledge outside to enter his
house. And as my blade bit deeply into his flesh, spilling his blood, the poison
I drank would end me as well so that we would be together always…in
peace.

"I was just saying that zombie killing is an exhausting and thankless job!"
Coyotee laughed suddenly as he beamed a smile at the warrior. "A job that must
be full of excitement and adventure! HA HA!" He added as he smiled in pure
desperate terror at the camera.

Somewhat dejected Curly kept up his smile and sighed in agreement.

"Aye...aye lad it is. But ya do what you were meant to do in this world,
right?" The warrior asked rhetorically as Coyotee nodded in absolute
agreement.

"Of course, but I for one, on behalf of ALL of Norrath would like to THANK
you DEEPLY for your duties. Without you, the world would be a MUCH darker and
scarier place! So.um..you know. THANK you Mister Witherflesh!" Coyotee says with
flourish, awkwardly and hesitantly clapping the man on the back.

As his flesh contacted mine, our souls connected in a moment of pure
bliss. He had noticed and more importantly, had he truly cared? My mind raced as
I thought of a way to ask to see him again. Did he have a girlfriend? Who was
she? What was her name?

"Lylla. Her name is Lyl-" Coyotee supplied, his eyes instantly widening in
shock as he clamped both hands over his mouth.

Turning slowly towards the reporter with a look of fear, hope, awe and sorrow
washing his face Curly tightened his grip on the axe and narrowed his eyes at
Coyotee.

"What. Was. That?" The warrior asked in a growl as he widened his stance.

"WELL! That's all the time we have tonight folks! Thank you for joining us
and BYE!" Coyotee finished quickly, all but throwing the microphone at Curly as
he ran screaming from the set.

"Don't run from your feelings!" Curly cried out, tears streaming his face as
he began to slowly walk and sob towards the direction in which the Kerran rand,
leaving the camera to focus on the empty scenery before slowly fading to
black.

*end*