It’s all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
I should start at the start, to make this clearer in my head.
The last few miles were like I was walking through a fog. But the fog was only in my head. The masses of deader was so thick and at times I had to physically push through them there were so many. And they smelled of death and guts and rotting.
I could see the building up ahead. It was white, and all glass windows, until I could see at the bottom the glass was all broken and not there.
Outside the deaders milled around as if they were bored and looking for something to do. Inside the building was empty except for an old overturned desk and some long since empty plant pots. In the middle of the room stood a deader woman, and next to her was a little deader girl. She looked about my age, maybe a little younger.
The woman was very pretty once, but the rot had set in and she was all leathery skin and jutting bones just beneath the surface.
Then the woman’s voice was in my head. She said she had seen me as a baby once when I was with my dad, and that my dad had once been married to her before she was made dead. And that the little girl was born from a deader mother just like me just before her mum was made re-dead, just like my mum had been.
Then the girl’s voice spoke to me and said her name was Eve, and that we had a job to do. And that everything would be alright. And she asked me if I was ready to do what had to be done.
But I wasn’t sure, and I had to lie down and think. So I thought and thought about how I wanted to help the deaders, because I know that locked inside them is the body’s real owner, but I didn’t want to help if it was the deaders I was helping because all they wanted to do was to bite and eat not-dead people. I was confused.
I told Eve I would help if it helped the not-dead people and she was happy with that. And a deader came in and dropped a dead fox at my feet and left. And Eve and the woman left the big room, and I’m here on my own now in a white room with lots and lots of deaders milling around outside.
But I think I might have done the wrong thing. I think it’s all so wrong somehow. But I don’t know how.