 
The Chronicles of Orlando

The Zombie Story

By M.M. Shelley

Smashwords Edition

*****

Published by

M.M. Shelley on Smashwords

Copyright © 2011 by M.M. Shelley

Books by M.M. Shelley

Mishap & Mayhem

Mishap & Chaos

The Chronicles of Orlando: The Zombie Story

The Chronicles of Orlando: Dead Relatives

For previews and more visit www.mmshelley.com

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to any real people or event is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the express consent of the publisher and author; except where permitted by law.

Cover Art design by Kim Killion: www.hotdamndesigns.com

Created in the United States of America

Copyright © 2011 M.M. Shelley

All rights reserved.

For my nephews, Anthony, Samuel, Jacob, Andrew & Joshua

Chapter One – The City of Angels

Orlando had no desire to relocate with his family to of all places, Los Angeles, California. Everything he had heard about the city was that it was filled with crazy people. He had heard, through reliable sources, that in Los Angeles, everyone wanted what was called a 'magick fix'. You could get it anywhere on the streets of L.A. It was cheap and the high it gave lasted for days. Orlando had heard all of this from his best friend, Jeff and Jeff's brother, Carl.

"That town is going to break you," Jeff said. The look in his eyes showed Orlando all the sympathy in the world. "I think you would be better off moving in here with us. I'm sure my parents won't mind."

Orlando did not consider his offer for even a moment. As much as he really wanted to stay, moving in with his friend was not an option.

Everyone in the world had magick in one form or another. The ones who had the least amount were known as Novices, most of the population was Novice. Novices had the smallest amount and had no control over when it was used. Most Novices went years without being able to use magick or never being able to use magick at all.

The ones at the next level were known as Mercurial, they were given the name Mercurial because their magick was never reliable and always unstable, it was never steady and it could be destructive.

The third level of magick were Wizards, they had learned to control their power and a wizard was someone who's magick was most strong and consent. There were not many who reached the level of Wizard. It was in fact rare to be a classified Wizard and many doubted the existence of them.

The steady use of magick over time could make the person go mad from the effects.

Orlando had not been tested for his levels yet; he had been scheduled many times but had never kept his appointments. He was not good at keeping appointments.

The reason why Orlando was relocating with his family was because both of his parents had found jobs in Los Angeles. The economy had "crashed" so they had to take what they could find. Orlando's grandfather was going to move with them. His grandfather was a bit, 'off his rocker.' Whenever he started talking about any subject, he would never stop to take a breather.

At their old place, his grandfather had the room next to his and every other night he kept his television blasting at an ear-splitting volume. The walls that they shared would vibrate from the sound. Even if Orlando told his grandfather to keep it down, he would just be ignored. His grandfather didn't care; he wasn't the one who had to get up early the next morning to get to school on time.

That was another thing. It was his last year of high school. He was seventeen years old. He would now have to set himself up at a brand new school, learn the hierarchy and keep a low profile until he got himself situated. He was not looking forward to that at all.

Did his parents care about all this? Nope. Not only were they all relocating, but they were driving all the way from Oklahoma to Los Angeles. And Orlando was stuck in the back seat with grandpa, who either wasn't aware or didn't care that he was kind of gassy. Orlando had to keep the window down to let air in.

When they finally drove up to their new house it looked decent enough. It was a two story building. The upstairs window had a long crack in the window pane. There was no grass in the front yard and the driveway looked like a grenade had been dropped in the middle of it, there was so much rubble; but Orlando had expected a lot worse.

His parents and his grandfather remained in the car looking at their new surroundings. Orlando exited the car with his red backpack in hand. He stopped at his father's window which had been rolled down to ask, "Are you guys coming?" Orlando was anxious to get inside and pick out a bedroom before his grandfather laid claim.

Slowly the rest of his family followed Orlando up the front steps of the house.

When his mom unlocked the front door with a key the realtor had sent them, Orlando made sure that he was the first one inside. He brushed by her. It didn't take him long to pick out a bedroom. He liked the one at the end of the long upstairs hallway. He walked in and quickly shut the door behind him, lest his grandfather get any ideas about trying to claim this room as his own.

His bedroom had windows which overlooked the front yard. The movers, who had all their stuff, were expected the next day, so the room stood empty. His window was the one that had the crack in it. Dumping his backpack on the ground he walked towards the window.

The neighborhood was very quiet. No one was outside. No one, he guessed, cared about who had moved into the empty house.

A knock sounded on his bedroom door. After he called out, Orlando's mom Karen entered and stood in the doorway of his new bedroom with his sleeping bag in her hands. "This isn't so bad; we can fix that window up real easily."

"Yeah, I guess." He said not very enthusiastically.

"Do you want to sleep in here? I brought you your sleeping bag." She held it out to him.

"Yeah, sure," he was still mad at his parents for making him move to Los Angeles. He didn't want his mom to think that anything had changed.

The next morning Orlando was home alone as he didn't have to start school for a few more days. His parents had left early to go to work. His grandfather had gone down the street to buy a new window for Orlando's bedroom.

Orlando was out in the backyard. He was picking up junk that had been piled up there by the previous tenants. He had his headphones on and was listening to music. He needed to get more trash bags from the garage, and so he was making his way down the side of the house, when he saw two men out in the middle of the street. One had a gun; the other was on the ground. Orlando removed his headphones so that he could hear what they were saying.

He could hear them arguing. The man with the gun held it pointed at the other's chest.

"Please! Don't!" The man on the ground cried, he was a bit scraggly looking and unkempt. He was visibly shaking as he covered his head with both of his arms believing it would ward off the assailant.

Orlando scanned the block; there was no one else out to watch the drama unfolding before him. He crouched down against the house trying to keep out of sight.

The man with the gun began laughing, before taking aim and firing the gun. He fired at the scraggly man twice. The gunshots echoed throughout the quiet street.

The blood oozing from the scraggly man nearly made Orlando vomit.

Orlando hurriedly backed up from his hiding place tripping over his own feet. Fearing that he had made too much noise and that the man with the gun must have heard him, Orlando jumped to his feet. As he ran into the backyard he checked over his shoulder multiple times to see if the man was chasing him. Once inside the house he locked the sliding door behind him and called the police from his cell phone. He was anxious as he waited for the operator to come on the line. "What is your emergency?" The operator calmly asked.

"A guy's been shot!" Orlando had not meant to shout. He dropped the phone disconnecting the call. He felt that at any moment the gunman would be firing at his door to get at him. The gunman might even be climbing in through a window.

Orlando had to find a place to hide until the police showed up. Every single place he thought of seemed too obvious. He hurried from room to room as he looked for a hiding place. The movers had not yet arrived and Orlando didn't have many options.

The sounds of the police sirens alerted Orlando that the big guns had arrived. It took Orlando a while to work up the nerve to answer his door at the constant banging.

When he did he found a stocky policeman at his door, "We had a report of gunfire." he said very matter of factly.

Orlando looked past the policeman's shoulder. Didn't they see the body out in the street? "Yeah, I called. There was a shooting."

"Where was this shooting?" The policeman asked mildly curious.

"He was out there." Orlando said, as he wondered what was with all the questions.

"Will you please step outside, sir?" The policema'sn expression quickly turned to irritation.

Orlando did, a bit hesitantly. As he cautiously followed the officer outside, he suddenly froze in utter disbelief. There was no body lying out in the street. There was no blood. There was absolutely nothing. Orlando walked past the policeman to the exact spot where he had seen the shooting happen. Standing in the middle of the street, he looked down at his feet asking himself, 'What the hell just happened?'

Orlando stood gazing down at his feet. The officer cleared his throat, bringing Orlando's attention back to him.

"Look kid, I don't know what's going on with you, but do not waste the time and expense of our Police Department with false reports."

Orlando didn't know how to respond. He had seen one guy shoot another guy right here on this spot. He hadn't made it up. As luck would have it, that the movers arrived at the same moment that his grandfather arrived back from the hardware store. The officer wasted no time telling his grandfather the reason for his visit.

Orlando didn't want to hear it. He went back inside and up the stairs to his room. He had to wait for the movers to unload the truck. He paced back and forth in his bedroom replaying what he witnessed over and over in his head. Looking out the cracked window pane he watched the police officer drive away. He didn't see his grandfather.

He could hear the movers downstairs unloading the furniture. He could hear them speaking– their voices muffled through his closed door. It took them an hour before they got to his room. Orlando didn't have much so it didn't take them too long. He stood to the side with his arms folded glaring at them. Quietly urging them to hurry up and get out. Once they filed out he slammed the door.

Upon slamming his door, he shot a look at his radio and it immediately turned on, the volume blasting. Falling backwards on his bed, he waited for his grandfather to bang on his door to find out what all that was about with the police. His grandfather didn't come and Orlando didn't hear from him for the rest of the day. It wasn't until his parents arrived home from work that night that he heard his grandfather's voice. His mother didn't waste any time ripping into Orlando.

"Is this because you're not happy about the move? You make things up to try to force us to leave? I got news for you; that's not going to happen! So deal with it!" His mother continued ranting at him for some time.

His mother had never been this angry with him before. He didn't say anything. He just lay on his bed staring at the wall. His lack of response only infuriated his mother more. Apparently, tired of yelling over the sound of his radio, she tried turning it off with a glare but it didn't work. Frustrated, she left him alone in his bedroom. Orlando heard her storm down the stairs.

Later that night Orlando woke from a deep sleep to the sounds of his grandfather's television. He waited for one of his parents to go downstairs to tell him to turn it down, but he didn't hear them. Tired, Orlando got up to do it himself. Standing at the top of the stairs, he noticed that the lights were off. It was dark. With one glance of his eyes, the light switch turned on.

"Grandpa?" he said as he hurried down the stairs. Approaching the closed door he called again, a little louder, "Grandpa!"

It was then that he heard the voices on the other side of the door. He thought nothing of it. Believing it was just the sounds from the TV, Orlando pushed the door open. His grandfather was not alone. The TV was on; it was intended to drown out their voices. Sitting across from his grandfather was an old looking man whose gaze landed on Orlando.

"Did we wake you?" The old man asked.

"What do you think? Orlando asked annoyed.

Paying no attention to his grandson's rough voice Orlando's grandfather introduced him, "This is my grandson."

"I see," he looked at Orlando curiously.

"Grandpa what's with the TV? It woke me up." Irritated Orlando shut the TV off with one harsh look.

The old man sat up in amazement, "Can he do this all the time, at will?" he asked Orlando's grandfather.

"No," he replied. Giving it some thought he added, "Only when he's in a foul mood or has low blood sugar. Which is all of the time these days."

Looking back at Orlando the old man said, "You got a temper."

"No, I don't." Orlando wasn't going to stay for this. He was going to go back upstairs and try to get some sleep.

The old man kept him from leaving by saying, "I know about what happened out there in front of your house; what you saw."

Orlando halted by the door, without turning back he asked," You do?"

"Yes, your grandfather told me. Which is why I'm here, I came to talk to you."

"Are you a cop?" he asked as he turned back expectantly.

"Not the kind with a badge."

"Then what kind are you?"

Orlando had not noticed before, but leaning next to the chair was a wicked looking sword with a green handle and a silver blade.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Orlando asked not at all amused.

"This is no joke. This is a serious weapon." The old man took up his sword.

Orlando's grandfather spoke up, adding, "This here is my old friend, Maxwell. We used to hunt Zombies together."

"What? Zombies! Have you been smoking grandpa?" Orlando didn't smell smoke but maybe the old man had started getting those magick fixes he had heard about.

"We thought we had seen the last of them. But something's happened. They are here again." His grandfather replied.

Maxwell placed his sword back down, "The zombies are rising. I've come to begin your training. Train you in what you need to know."

Orlando didn't know what they were talking about, "I'm going back to bed. See you in the morning, grandpa."

"Orlando, wait." He did. "It's your turn now. No one else can do this but you."

"Do what? What do you want me to do?" asked Orlando sounding like he was becoming increasingly irritated.

His grandfather stood, stretching himself to his full height, "You must become the next zombie hunter."

"And," Maxwell added, "You must begin your training before their numbers begin to rise even more."

Orlando stood there looking at them as if they'd lost their minds, "A zombie hunter?"

Chapter Two - The Motorcycle

The next morning as Orlando opened his bedroom door to head downstairs for breakfast, he found the sword that Maxwell had held the night before. It stood standing in place before him. The sword was unsheathed; the blade tip rested upon the wooden floor; it did not pierce the floorboards.

Orlando closed his bedroom door, waited a moment, ran his hand through his dark hair and opened the door once more. Yes, the sword was still there. He had not imagined it. What it was doing there, he did not know. Reaching out for it, he took the green handle into his left hand, he examined it closely.

What was he suppose to do with this? Hunt zombies? And just how was he supposed to go about doing that? Tossing the sword onto his bed, he headed downstairs for breakfast.

He found his mother downstairs gathering her purse and car keys, she was about to head out the door to go to work. "You start school tomorrow," she reminded him.

"Yeah," he said as he opened the fridge.

"I know you weren't looking forward to moving out here, but I think we might be able to change that."

His mother had his full attention. He closed the door to the refrigerator. "Yeah," he responded. "How is that?"

"Look out the window," she replied, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter.

Outside parked on the rubble of the driveway was a rustic car. It looked like it had seen better days.

Orlando put two and two together fairly quickly. Frowning he asked, "Seriously?"

"I know it's not much, but you can work on it and make something better out of it."

"Make it into what, an actual car?"

"A 'Thank You' would have been nice."

"Thanks," he said as he opened the refrigerator.

"Your grandfather will take you out to the junkyard for some parts later today."

"Thanks," he said again in a tone that clearly did not convey any sort of gratitude.

His mother gave him a frown before leaving him in the kitchen.

The junkyard was more than what Orlando expected. He left his grandfather talking to the guy who ran the place and headed out on his own. With his earphones on, he wandered the aisles, not any paying any attention to where he was going. It was then that he noticed something set in the far back corner behind a group of boxes.

It was an old motorcycle. Orlando moved the boxes out of the way in order to get a better view. It looked like it had been painted black at one time, yet it was definitely a Harley Davidson motorcycle. Based on the fork and blade design and V-twin engines, he identified it as a 2004 Sportster.

"How'd you end up over here?" his grandfather asked from behind.

Turning, Orlando noticed that the guy who ran the junkyard was with his grandfather. He asked, "How much for this?"

"What?" his grandfather asked Orlando surprised at his question.

The guy gave a crooked smile before saying cautiously, "Are you sure you want that? It didn't do so well by its last owner."

"Are you crazy?" his grandfather nearly shouted at him incredulously.

After a short discussion, Orlando was the proud owner of what he liked to think of as a "pre-owned" Sportster. The guy told him that he could have someone deliver it for him first thing in the morning, but Orlando didn't want to wait. He told them both that he could walk the bike home. They didn't live too far away and he didn't mind. He wanted to start working on rebuilding it right away.

He knew it was illegal to walk it on the sidewalk but it was worth the risk. He was only a few miles away from his house and the streets were busy. A car full of teenagers drove by him; it slowed down only enough so that they could laugh at him. Orlando didn't care.

The sidewalk began to narrow as he turned down a side street. He adjusted his headphones setting the volume up high enough to make him unable to hear the noise behind him; but he definitely felt the hand on his shoulder. Its grip was tight as it pulled him back.

Orlando dropped the Sportster as his attacker whirled him around like a rag doll.

His attacker was a strange looking man who looked like a street person. His hair was long and dirty. He had no shoes and he reeked of urine, sweat, and decay. His eyes were sunken into his face, looking dull and lifeless.

"I need a fix, dude," the man said in a lifeless tone.

"What?" Orlando asked, not sure that he had heard him correctly. He couldn't help but see blood dripping down the man's arm.

"This is the place where I always get it!" he snarled at Orlando.

"Whatever," Orlando turned to pick up his Sportster. He wanted to get away.

A grunt dropped into the man's throat becoming a slow growl. Orlando did not turn to look behind him. He was focused on making a quick exit.

A hand clamped back onto his shoulder; throwing him into wooden slats that formed a wall. He hit it hard knocking the air from his lungs.

The man was on top of him; his mouth wide opened. Several teeth were missing and his breath smelled of rotting gums. He began to foam at the mouth. An even stranger odor emanated from his mouth, nearly knocked Orlando out cold.

There was a piece of wood from the broken fence lying next to Orlando, he reached for it.

A zombie! His grandfather wasn't crazy. He was right!

The guy on top of him began making strange sounds as his face came closer to Orlando's head. He was incredibly strong; Orlando could not push him off.

With the piece of wood in his left hand, he instantly envisioned flames and immediately they burst forth into reality. He rammed it into the Zombies eye.

The head lit up in flames as it jumped back. Its hands reached for its head in a poor attempt to put it out. The rest of its body caught fire and it gave a cry before dropping to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Jumping to his feet, Orlando grabbed the Sportster making a mad dash down the narrow sidewalk. He did not look back.

All the way home, the words of his grandfather and Maxwell played through his head like an old movie reel.

How could there be zombies? How did people not know about this? He thought about that first day in Los Angeles and what he had seen in the street in front of his house. Did this mean that the guy with the gun could be a Zombie Hunter? If so had he killed a zombie in front of his house? Orlando had many questions. The most important question of all; would his sword fit into his backpack at school tomorrow?

Chapter Three – Teammates

It was the oddest looking school he had ever seen. Orlando knew Los Angeles was going to be a strange place. He had just not figured it would be strange in so many ways.

Orlando rode up on his Harley Davidson Sportster. It had only needed a few minor repairs. He added oil, replaced a few parts and managed to get it running. His grandfather had warned him of the dangers of the motorcycle; emphasizing that the guy at the junk yard had told him about the motorcycle's very dark history. He did not go into detail, but in a very serious tone had stated that Orlando's mother would not approve.

His grandfather had been correct, his mother did not approve. His father on the other hand, thought it was an amazing ride and had helped him with the repairs.

His school was divided into parts along a jagged hill. The parking lot was located at the bottom of that hill. The hike up was not too bad. It gave him a chance to look things over. Get the lay of the land.

He could not help but notice the peculiar looks that he got as he made his way up the hill. He thought it might be the odd looking object he had wrapped into a black binding that was creating the interest. He had rigged his sword to his backpack. It was awkward but he didn't feel good without it around. Not after the attack he had experienced. He figured that if anyone asked him about it, he would just say it was for his fencing lessons after school.

He heard the other students comment about him as he made his way up the hill. None of them seemed to care if he heard them or not. Orlando didn't care either. They could think whatever they wanted.

He walked into the main office; an older woman was seated at the front desk. She was typing on the computer and speaking on an earpiece as he approached her. The back wall was lined with empty chairs.

The woman looked up as Orlando approached. She had black hair with silver streaks and she wore colored contacts that made her eyes look like a cat's.

She held out a hand to Orlando, motioning for him to wait while she finished. Her nails had been manicured into pointed tips and were painted gray.

Pressing a button on her earpiece, she ended her phone conversation. "You are?" she asked, not looking at him. Her attention focused on the computer in front of her.

"Orlando Drake," he said. He noticed that the others in the office were trying to make themselves look busy while they surreptitiously watched him. They weren't any good at it. They were all dressed oddly– like characters from an emo musical. Also, he couldn't help but notice that even the guys wore makeup. He returned his gaze to the lady at the desk.

"Drake, Orlando, hmm, where are you in the computer?" she asked, as she typed in his name again. "Let me have your I.D. card or drivers license."

The moment he handed over his license she jumped from her chair and ran into a backroom.

When she disappeared, one of the emo kids cautiously walked over to him. He tried not to look at her. He tried to keep his focus on the door through which the woman from the front desk had disappeared. He was not successful for long.

"Hi," she said with a crack in her voice. "I'm Issa." She cleared her throat and waited for him to respond.

Orlando was a head taller than her; he looked at her for a moment before answering, "Hi."

Issa waited for him to say something more.

Orlando turned back towards the door waiting.

Issa did not give up she asked, "We were wondering," she gestured with her head to where her friends stood waiting for her. "We were wondering about you. Are you new?"

"Just got into town," he replied.

"Oh, because we noticed what you have attached to your backpack..." she paused as if waiting for him to finish her sentence. Orlando noticed the look of exasperation that she gave to her friends. "Do you fence?"

Orlando tried to cover the startled expression that he knew had crossed his face, "What?" he asked not sure he had heard her correctly.

"We have a fencing club. We meet on Fridays."

Orlando recovered quickly, "I'm not looking to join any clubs."

"If you do, we meet on Fridays." She gave him a friendly smile before joining her friends.

The woman from the front desk returned. She said, "You have not been tested for your levels yet?" She looked at him with disdain.

She was referring to the test regarding the level of his magick skills. Each student was tested when they entered high school in order to assess the level of their abilities. Orlando simply explained to her that he had just moved from Oklahoma and had not yet had time to be tested.

She gave him a brush with her claw like hand and said, "Not a problem, we will take care of that for you." She handed him a printed copy of his schedule and directed him up yet another hill, to his first class.

Orlando was slowly making his way to class when he turned the corner to find a tall severely well groomed young man standing before him. He had an unpleasant look upon his face.

"Saw you coming up the hill on your motorcycle." He raised a clenched fist and placed it directly in front of Orlando's face. His eyes squinted at Orlando as he looked over his shoulder at his backpack, "What do have wrapped up? Are you in a gang?"

"What?" Orlando asked, with a confused look in his eyes.

Lowering his clenched fist to his side, "This is not the school for people like you."

"Like me? You don't even know me." Orlando took exception to the remark.

"You ride a motorcycle to school. You carry a concealed weapon. Your trouble, that's what I know about you."

"Then step aside and let me get to class."

"I could. But I'm not going to."

Orlando looked at him, still confused by his belligerence, "What do you want?"

"This is your warning, stay clear of me and I will see to it that you have a nice, pleasant year."

"I don't even know you, why should I care about your 'warning'? Orlando asked; a cocky look in his eyes.

Orlando didn't see it coming; the swing to his face knocked him backwards landing him on his backpack. He looked like a turtle with his feet up in the air. It took him a minute to sit up. With his hand at his jaw easing the sting from the blow, he looked up at his attacker.

"A nice, pleasant year," the stranger said as he walked away.

Orlando moved his backpack to his side, a pair of legs came into his view. He followed them up to find a young girl staring down at him. She had her hair pulled back into two pigtails and she brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

She squatted down at his side, "That was George; they call him 'King George' because he uses his parents' connections to scare everyone."

She gave him a hand and helped him to his feet. "I'm Elodie," she said with a smile.

"Orlando."

"George is suspicious of everyone. Don't take it personally."

"He punched me in the face, kind of hard not to take that personally."

"True, he did."

"You said his parents have connections?"

"Yes, and not to mention that George's godfather, is the governor, kind of makes him feel entitled and that we are all the little people who must abide his bidding. Hence the name, 'King George' it fits him perfectly." She gave a laugh.

"It does."

"Where is your class? I can show you the way?" she offered.

Elodie led him to his class where she made a face once they came to the classroom door.

"What's with the face?" Orlando asked curiously.

She gave his arm a pat as if she were offering her condolences, "It's only an hour, at least."

"What is so bad about this class?"

"King George," she said before hurrying back the way they had come.

She was right; –at least it was just an hour.

****

Orlando was slowly making his way to his next class when he turned the corner to find Maxwell standing before him.

"What are you doing here?" Maxwell asked irritated.

"I'm at school. I'm supposed to be here," he replied. Orlando did not like finding Maxwell at school. It was going to be hard enough and he didn't need Maxwell to add to it.

"School?" he asked, looking around as if he just realized where he was. "You have training to do. We don't have much time to get you ready."

"It will have to wait." Orlando tried to move past Maxwell.

Maxwell stepped in front of him, "If you must attend school, then you must."

"Okay, so move," Orlando again attempted to brush by; he was again stopped, as Maxwell stepped in front of him.

"School will still be here tomorrow, but you may not be. Do I have your attention now?"

"What is it?" he asked although he did not really want to know.

"There is someone I want you to meet. It won't take long." Maxwell extended his left arm out for Orlando to go forward.

"Where are we going?" Orlando hesitated.

"A hunter is only seen a moment or two before they attack."

Orlando looked at Maxwell oddly, "What kind of attack?"

"An attack from hunters, you will see." Maxwell had a proud tone in his voice as he pushed Orlando forward.

"So, they are hiding before they attack me?"

Maxwell began to laugh, "Just to see how fast you are. Don't worry there is only one other hunter here today."

"You want to do this at my school?" Orlando didn't like the idea of this meeting taking place at school.

"A zombie can attack anywhere," he said.

With those words spoken, Orlando began to scan the nearby area looking for places of attack. Nothing looked suspicious. There were trees but they were too thin to hide behind. Next were the tables and benches but nobody could hide within those.

Trash bins? Orlando laughed, maybe in there.

"I thought you said no one else could be a zombie hunter but me?"

Maxwell thought about that for a moment before saying, "Maybe I was being a little dramatic."

"Yeah, maybe," Orlando took a cautious step forward. He had not reached for his sword. He left it where it was, attached to his backpack. He felt odd doing this but he was curious as to who the other hunter was and where the hunter might be hiding.

It was the one place Orlando hadn't thought to look; the benches and the tables were beneath an open enclosure. The roof was made out of wood. He didn't give it much thought because it looked very unstable.

A huge shadow covered him from above. Releasing a fierce battle cry, the shadow leapt from the roof. Landing a few feet from Orlando, the hunter's sword was drawn. Orlando wisely backed up a few steps.

"Dude, I could so totally have had your head." It was a young man with blonde hair and gray eyes about Orlando's age. Looking over at Maxwell, the young man added, "Is this the guy you were talking about?"

Maxwell vigorously nodded his head, "Orlando, this is Ruben. He will help you with your training, which begins now!"

Ruben looked Orlando over from head to toe. All he saw was a young kid who looked like he had never been in a fight. "Let's go hunting; see what you can do." Ruben said doubtfully. He knew he wouldn't be impressed with Orlando's hunting skills.

Chapter Four – China Town

Ruben took Orlando into the city; the streets were crowed with cars and people. Orlando didn't think that zombies could possibly be hanging out in the open. But Ruben seemed to know what he was talking about. He told Orlando that he had been hunting zombies for a while. That he enjoyed it, he liked the rush that it gave him.

Orlando rode his Sportster; Ruben had his own ride, his was a blue Kawasaki sport Z1000. He expected Orlando to follow him, yet as he made turns down streets he would make the turns at the last possible second.

Orlando reconsidered the thought that just maybe Ruben didn't have any idea where they were headed.

They rode by Union Station headed south towards North Broadway. Ruben came to a quick stop without signaling his intent. He had pulled up to a bakery.

"Why are we stopping here? You hungry are something?" Orlando asked as he parked alongside him.

Removing his helmet Ruben responded, "Or something. This place can get pretty crazy. You'll see what I mean, dude."

The place was busy, filled with tourists who made their way up and down the streets of Chinatown.

Ruben and Orlando began to walk away from their motorcycles, Ruben paused and without looking back, he raised his right arm and pushed a button on a keychain. The noise of two beeps sounded securing his ride.

"Seriously?" Orlando asked as they continued forward.

Ruben ignored the question, instead he pointed out a small shop that sold herbs and teas. "This place is known for its underground fighting. I think it would be a good place to test you."

"Underground fighting? In that place?" He asked uncertain about whether or not Ruben was being straight with him.

"Yeah, man. Come on I'll show you," an eager smile on his face.

Ruben entered the shop first; the door bell chimed alerting his presence. Orlando was hesitant to follow. Through the huge windows Orlando noticed that no one was at the front counter. Again the door chimed as Orlando strode in, not quiet sure what was really going on.

Ruben headed into the backroom, "Looks like they're all downstairs already." He came to a stop in a small hallway, which oddly held no doorways. Kneeling down Ruben removed a piece of board that was covering a narrow opening. Looking intently at Orlando he asked, "How's your magik? Are you a classified novice or mercurial?"

Orlando didn't know the answer to that, for he hadn't been tested yet so he said, "Guess we'll find out."

"Fair enough," Ruben was about to lead the way down when he was stopped by Orlando's question.

"Who am I going to be fighting?"

"Not who, it's what. People like to see zombies fight each other and bet on them."

"Oh," Orlando thought that was the craziest thing he had ever heard.

"Yeah, it's totally awesome." The sound of excitement in his voice was clear. "It's how I met Maxwell; he showed up one day and asked me if I wanted to hunt these things down. Said I'd be good at it, because, you know, I kicked their asses in the ring."

"Wait a minute; you went one on one with zombies?" That took Orlando by surprise.

With a grin on his face he said, "All the time, it was easy money." Becoming serious he added, "Just don't embarrass me man, these guys here, they know me." With that said he led the way down the stairs and into a tunnel.

They could hear the noise from the fighting at the end of the tunnel. The sounds of bone hitting bone, the grunting and the shouts of the gamers placing bets on the fights, greeted them as they made the way down the tunnel.

"Yo!" Ruben shouted. "How's it going man?" He asked the man at the entrance to a cavern. It looked like a basement. There were crates stacked up along one side of the wall. Several tunnels had been cut into the basement leading who knew where. There was no traditional looking ring in the basement. Just an area that was empty and it looked like there was dried blood on the ground.

"You in today?" the man asked. "We got some good ones."

"Yeah? That's awesome!" Ruben called Orlando over, "This here is my friend Orlando. My money's on him."

"For real?" the man asked uncertain. He looked Orlando over, not sure there was a fighter in him.

"Dude, you're asking me? You do remember all the wins I have under my belt?" He took a few steps forward to assert his statement.

The man began to laugh uncomfortably, "Let's put him in."

Ruben turned back to Orlando a huge grin on his face as he asked, "You didn't eat this morning did you?"

Chapter Five - The Fight

Within minutes Orlando was in the ring with an actual zombie. The zombie was taller than him, it was hunched over with broad shoulders that looked too big for its body and its head was grotesque. It had an electric collar around its neck; Ruben had briefly mentioned to him that it was a way for the handlers to keep the zombies in line.

The zombie growled at him, salivating at his lips, it looked hungry. Its collar lit up prompting the zombie to attack. It took a wide swing at Orlando.

Orlando easily sidestepped the attack ducking down, targeting its kidney area.

The zombie turned, growling and swinging both of its huge fists widely. One swing caught Orlando on his chin. He went down; it felt like a semi truck had hit him. The zombie growled in victory. It dropped down to its knees. Its hands eagerly stretching outward for Orlando's head, it was hungry.

Quickly turning onto his side, Orlando kicked one leg outward, hitting the zombie in the midsection. It didn't move the zombie back very much, but it did give Orlando room to jump to his feet.

They were nearly face to face now; the zombie had bent down to Orlando's eye level. It reached across for Orlando's shoulders; it wanted to rip his arms out of their sockets.

Orlando could see perfectly into its sunken lifeless eyes. Raising his hand he poked the zombie in the eye.

It stumbled backwards; Orlando was quick to follow him. The zombie ripped its wounded eye out of its socket and flung its eyeball at Orlando, causing him to pause for a moment in denial.

It was bleeding from where its eye used to be as it swung at Orlando missing him with each strike.

Orlando inched his way closer, with both hands he grabbed hold of the zombie's head. Breaking its neck with a few twists; it fell to the ground lifeless.

"What the hell man! You killed my zombie!" An outrage man cried out.

"Yeah, dude," Ruben said calmly to the outraged man, "that was the point." Ruben tossed Orlando his sword and took out his own. His eyes firmly set on Orlando now as he said, "This outta be fun."

"Ruben!" the man that Orlando had met earlier at the entrance charged forward, "What are you doing?"

Without sparing him a look Ruben answered, "Killing zombies."

Chapter Six - Grandpa

Orlando had just been to an underground zombie fight club. Not only had he just been to an underground zombie fight club but he had been a participant. There had been three zombies.

Ruben and Orlando wasted no time destroying them. After it was finished Ruben took off. He said he had to be somewhere but he didn't say where.

Orlando drove home on his Sportster. He had not enjoyed the killing. He pulled up to the house; it was too early in the day for his parents to be home from work, but his grandfather would be home. 'What questions would his grandfather have for him?' Orlando thought as he sat on the Sportster looking up at the house.

He heard the TV as he made his way inside; he found his grandfather watching it. Upon hearing Orlando, his grandfather turned it off.

"How did your day go?" he asked.

Orlando sat down on the sofa across from his grandfather. He didn't answer. He just sat there staring at nothing in particular.

"That bad, huh?" his grandfather asked, a chuckle in his voice.

Orlando raised his head. He looked at his grandfather directly, "Maxwell came by my school, wanted to know what I was doing there."

"Thought he might be by," clearing his throat, his grandfather then added, "He has always been impatient. How did your training go?"

Orlando gave a half smile as he thought it over before saying, "It was hands on training."

"What was Maxwell thinking? It's far too early for you to be having direct contact with zombies." His grandfather seemed a bit upset at hearing this.

"It wasn't Maxwell; he turned my training over to some guy called Ruben."

"It's too early."

The training didn't bother Orlando nearly as much as the questions he had for his grandfather. "How did you become a zombie hunter? Who decided that this would be my thing?"

His grandfather coughed to clear his throat; he was not quite sure what he should say. He sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands, his fingers touching each other he finally said to his grandson, "I met Maxwell when I was young, about your age. I was coming home late from a friend's party. I heard screaming like I had never heard before. At first I thought I would ignore it; it had nothing to do with me, but for some reason I stopped and didn't walk inside the house. There was an alley that ran alongside of it. I started to hear groaning so I went around and saw a young man about my age. He was leaning up against the trash bins clutching his sides.

"What happened to you?" Orlando's grandfather continued.

"Get away! It's coming back!" the young man shouted out in warning. There was blood dripping down the side of his head and his clothes were badly torn. "It's coming back." He limped forward towards me.

"It's okay. My name is Ethan. I'll call the police for you," I said as he stepped forward so that I could help him.

"No!" A look of fear crept onto the young man's face as a shadow dropped down over Ethan.

Suddenly a sword whistled through the air as the young man swung it out from his side. Upon seeing the sword swoop out I dropped to the ground to avoid it and I heard the sickening sound as it sliced into something thick behind him. Blood splattered on me.

The sword that the young man held fell to the floor clanging. His eyes closed as he took several steps backwards to lean against the trash bins once more. He said to Ethan, "It was hunting."

Looking it over I asked, "What was that?"

"Zombie," he said. He was out of breath.

I doubted that. How could there be a zombie lying dead at his feet? "No, it can't be a zombie," he said sure of it.

"Take a look. See for yourself." He watched as I did just that. He went on to say, "Check out the skin. It's grey, flaking off, and then there's the smell."

"Did you say it was hunting?"

"How did you not even smell it as it came up behind you?" the young man asked perplexed.

"We're in an alley. I didn't think much of it." I said. Squinting my eyes at him I then asked, "What's your name?"

"Maxwell, and for saving your life you now owe me."

"Don't think so," I said. My eyes were back on the zombie.

"There are more of them, not just that one."

"Where did it come from?"

"I don't know." Moving away from the trash bins towards me, he said, "I can show you how to kill them."

"I don't want to know," I began to back away from Maxwell.

"Going home to your safe little house? Leave me half dead out here to fight the rest of them off...is that your plan?"

"How long have you been hunting zombies?"

Maxwell's voice was flat as he answered, "Since my father became one."

Orlando watched as his grandfather reached behind his back for his wallet. He pulled out a picture. Handing it to Orlando, he said, "This was us years and years ago." He laughed as he remembered the training Maxwell had put him through.

"Why did you agree?" Orlando asked as he handed the picture back to his grandfather.

"I'm not quiet sure why. It just seemed like the right thing to do."

Chapter Seven – Wizard or Ghost

The house grew quiet as everyone prepared for bed. Orlando was exhausted and fell asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow– until a noise in his bedroom jarred him awake.

He sat up looking for what had created the noise. At first he didn't see anything. All appeared to be quiet and in its place. He laid back down closing his eyes to sleep and felt the mattress shift at the presence of someone else's weight. Opening his eyes startled, he found a man standing beside his bed resting his foot on the mattress.

"What?" Orlando asked thinking he must have been dreaming.

An eerie yellow light surrounded the man who peered down upon him; a wicked smile upon his face. "Catching up on your beauty sleep?" the man asked.

Sitting up in his bed to create space between himself and the strange man, Orlando realized that he knew this man. He had been the one who had killed that guy in front of his house.

"What are you doing here?" Orlando asked worried.

"I saw you that day when I was taking care of some business in front of this house. It surprised me, considering I had spelled the neighborhood to keep away from the front street... how did you manage to bypass my spell?"

Orlando moved to the far corner of the bed, his back against the wall, "Did you come here to kill me?"

"No, I'm not going to kill you; I only wondered how a boy like you could manage to bypass my spell. What level of magik are you?"

"I don't know. Why should that matter?"

"It matters because I have been tracking someone." Noticing that Orlando was bracing himself against the wall the man took a step back from the bed. Introducing himself he said, "The name's Fernie its short for Fernando. I've traced a friend of yours out here."

"A friend of my mine?"

"Maxwell?"

When he spoke the name, Orlando moved off of his bed to switch on the light. As the light lit up the room Fernie disappeared.

A knock sounded at his bedroom door, it was Orlando's mother, "Are you okay? I heard a noise."

It took him a moment to answer his mother; he had looked around the room for Fernie. How could he disappear just as the light turned on?

"I'm fine." He said. He had not opened the door. After a moment he heard his mother move down the hall.

Fernie reappeared as Orlando switched the light off.

"Are you a ghost?" Orlando asked. He switched the light back on, saw that he disappeared and reappeared as the light went off.

"No, I'm a wizard. There are not very many of us left. Which is why I'm hunting Maxwell, he is not who he says he is."

"What do you mean? Maxwell is a friend of my grandfather. For all I know you're some insane lunatic who is here to kill me. Why did you kill that guy on the street?"

"He was an informant. He gave me some bad information. He's what you would call a 'rat'."

"Maxwell is a wizard isn't he?"

Laughing Fernie replied, "He is a mercurial, a high class one. He knows how to manipulate things and people. He is no friend of yours or your grandfather's."

"Why are you hunting Maxwell?"

"He's the one who is creating all of this and you are going to help me to stop him," Fernie announced.

"There is no way I would help a nut job like you. Now get out," Orlando yelled.

The man then became enraged. The yellow which surrounded Fernie grew brighter as he advanced on Orlando.

Orlando's radio went flying across the room striking Fernie on his head.

Fernie paused, "How did you manage to do that?"

Orlando had no idea. The radio had just acted on its own.

Fernie picked up the radio to examine it, "You made it hit me."

"No, I don't know how to do that."

Looking at him questioningly, "You have no idea what you are, but I bet Maxwell does." He dropped the radio back onto the floor and it broke. "He is hunting real wizards."

"Why would he?"

Fernie didn't respond. He slowly approached Orlando, his eyes fixed carefully on him.

Knocking resounded on his bedroom door, "Orlando what is going on? What broke?"

"If she comes in here she will die." Fernie said. The sincerity of his threat was evident from the look in his eyes.

"Orlando?" his mother asked with concern in her voice. She tried the door knob; pushing it open and turning on the light. The room was empty, a broken radio on the floor.

Chapter Eight – Travel Town U.S.A

Orlando found himself in some sort of park. There were old trains lined up sitting on railroad tracks. Balloons were tied to a post near a caboose. There were several benches and tables scattered about the area in a random pattern. A building had a sign affixed above double doors. 'Travel Town U.S.A.'

"Hey!" Orlando shouted. 'Where did Fernie go? Why had he even brought him to this place?'

A dark shadow began to form before Orlando. The shadow bubbled, pushed outwards towards Orlando who carefully backed away not sure what to make of it. The shadow shot down towards the ground where it began to form a dark pool that slowly rose becoming Fernie.

"We can talk here. There is no one around for miles," Fernie assured him.

"Why did you bring me here?" Orlando wanted nothing to do with Fernie. The more time he spent with him the more he thought the guy was some psycho.

"There were too many interruptions at your house, unless you wanted me to kill your mother?" Fernie questioned with a chuckle in his voice. "I wanted you to see who Maxwell really is. I wanted you to see him in action."

Fernie spun on his heel, giving his back to Orlando. He seemed to be looking at something in the distance.

Orlando only saw hills and nothing else.

"He's up there." Fernie said.

"There is nothing here. No one is here. Take me home." Orlando wasn't even dressed. He was standing in his pajamas and he was barefoot. How was he going to make his way back home? He didn't even know where he was.

Fernie turned back around with an irritated look on his face, "Didn't you hear what I said? He's up there!" Fernie strode over to where Orlando stood. "Come see for yourself."

"No."

"No?" A strange look formed on Fernie's face as he stared at Orlando. "No? He repeated.

"Look, I'm not sure what is wrong with you. Maybe you got into someone's stash of magik fix. But you need help."

"What I needs is for you to believe me."

"Why do you care so much if I believe you or not? What's it to you?"

"Take a look," Fernie raised his hand to Orlando's face. A yellow light emerged from his finger tips.

"What are you doing?" Orlando asked as a strange sensation overtook him.

"Just see."

Orlando didn't want to see. He wanted to return home. Get as far away from Fernie as possible. He pushed Fernie away from him and ran towards the hills.

He heard Fernie laughing behind him. He had not bothered to follow.

Orlando ran up the hill, there was a light in the distance. He ran towards it. He thought it would lead to someone who might be able to help him, someone who might at least have a cell phone on them.

He heard voices as he approached the light. It was a camp ground. A blue fire burned in a pit, in the center of the blue fire was a yellow light that dimmed as Orlando approached. He ducked down behind the bushes.

Maxwell stood at the far end of the camp near a tent. Orlando watched as Maxwell entered the tent he was talking to someone; Orlando could not see who he was talking to.

The light from the fire pit revealed shadows of the ones who were inside the tent. Orlando could make out two others in the tent with Maxwell.

He could not understand what they were saying. They were speaking a language that he didn't recognize.

A loud shout of pain erupted from the tent.

"Hold him down!" Someone shouted in English.

Orlando watched the tent closely. Before he knew it, a large man ran from the tent. He stopped as he approached the blue fire. He held his head in his hands as he fell to his knees. The sounds he made were unlike anything Orlando had ever heard before.

The man began to change. His body stretched and grew. The color of his skin became ashy and taunt. He was becoming a zombie.

"Get the collar on him before his change is complete."

Orlando did not recognize the other man with Maxwell. He watched as that man reached over the zombie to fix a collar on him.

"Put him on the streets tonight." Maxwell said calmly as the collar activated.

"He's not for the fights?" The man asked. He looked very disappointed.

"Do as I tell you!"

Orlando wanted to emerge from his hiding place he wanted to confront Maxwell. 'Why was he creating zombies?' He saw Maxwell fixated on the blue fire.

"We have to clear out of here!" He shouted.

"Why?" The man asked as he was moving the zombie out of camp.

"There is a yellow light in the flames. He's watching us."

"Who is watching us?" He was confused.

Turning towards him Maxwell shouted, "Don't worry about it! Just clear out of here. Now!"

Moving towards the fire pit he tried to put the fire out, it would not go out. Maxwell began to shout around the camp. "There is nothing you can do Fernando! No one will help you. You are just a dying Wizard. How many days do you have left now?" With a laugh, Maxwell fled the camp.

"They are gone now." Fernie appeared near Orlando. "Do you believe me now? Do you finally see?"

"I do."

"Good, because we do not have much time."

"He said you were dying?"

"We are all dying."

Orlando ignored his comment, "What is wrong with you?"

"He injected me with zombie blood."

That was not something that Orlando had expected to hear, "Is there no cure?"

"My cure will be his death."

Orlando did not know what to say. He had gone from believing Fernie was some crazy psycho to believing that Maxwell was the real psycho.

Orlando turned to find Fernie watching him oddly, uncertainty in his eyes. Fernie slowly began to speak, "We must end this soon."

Chapter Nine – Betrayal

He didn't know what to do. Should he share with his grandfather what he had learned about Maxwell? What about Ruben? Did he know what Maxwell had been doing all along? Orlando stood in the center of the camp. His hands rested on his hips.

He heard Fernie step out of the tent. He did not look up as Fernie said, "He left things here. His notes and some of the magik fix."

"I thought he hated zombies, why would he make them?" Orlando bent down to look into the dying blue flames of the pit. "He said that his own father became a zombie."

"Didn't you wonder how his father became a zombie?"

The 'how' didn't matter to Orlando. "Did he get bit or something?"

"Getting 'bit' doesn't turn you into a zombie. It's this stuff right here." Fernie held up a vial of magick fix. "You take enough of these, thinking all your getting is a nice high when what you're really doing is dosing your body with zombie juice."

"That stuff has been making everyone into zombies?" Orlando rose and stepped over to Fernie. Taking the vial from his hand he examined it closely.

"It comes in many forms. Liquid, pills, whatever you want."

"You said he left notes in the tent?"

Fernie gave Orlando a big smile before saying, "He did."

"Where are they?"

"Have you agreed to help me then?"

Orlando nodded his head. He was sure, Maxwell had betrayed him. He had told Orlando that it was his job to hunt zombies, to put an end to them. But all along Maxwell had been the one behind their creation.

"Good. Meet me in an hour."

A blue light exploded throughout the camp. Orlando had to cover his eyes from the intense light. He felt the light enclose over him and within moments fade away. Opening his eyes he saw that he was back in his room. His mother stood at the door with her hand resting on the door knob. She did not seem to realize that any time had passed.

"Go to bed," she said closing the door.

A diagram appeared on the back of the bedroom door. It was a map of some sort. He traced it with his fingers. Small swirly lines with numbers... Orlando was going to Tijuana, Mexico.

He was going to need to take a shower first. After his trek in the park he needed it.

He showered quickly and returned to his room, the light on his cell phone indicated that he had a text message. It was Ruben. He wanted to meet him.

Orlando agreed.

They met at a bowling ally down the street from his house. Ruben looked like he had been in a fight. He had a bruise on the right side of his face and blood on his shirt.

"What happened to you?" Orlando asked as he sat down next to him at the bar.

"I was hunting, the zombie was pretty big. Didn't expect it, but I took it down."

"How did you find it?"

"Maxwell put me on the trail. Said he saw it, so I went. After I killed it I gave him a call. He didn't answer but I knew where I could find him."

The bartender approached them and Orlando ordered a coke. He listened as Ruben continued.

"He didn't see me; at first I didn't think anything of it. Then I saw that he was talking to somebody, so I got closer. He had at least two other zombies. He had them in cages. They were hooked up to tubes and looked like they were knocked out or something."

"How did you know where to find him?"

"I learned a while ago that whenever I work with someone its best to know as much as you can about them. So I had followed him around for a while. I thought he seemed legit."

"He fooled me too. He's making them you know, he's making zombies."

Ruben turned to Orlando, "He's making them out of us."

"What?" Orlando was confused.

"Some of them are hunters." He pulled a bracelet out of his pocket. "This belonged to a friend of mine." He dropped it on the counter. It was a gold chain bracelet.

"Are you sure?" Orlando didn't want to touch it. He saw red as he looked at it. They had trusted Maxwell. "What's in Tijuana?"

"Tijuana?"

"Yeah," he said, waiting for an answer.

"I know he goes there sometimes."

"I'm going there, tonight."

"Ruben!" They both turned to see who had called Ruben's name. She stood at the door. She looked to be about Orlando's age. "Ruben?" She stepped forward, "What happened to you?"

Ruben did not look pleased to see her, "Elodie I sent you a text telling you I was going to be late."

"Did you press send? Because I didn't get it! Look at you, you're a mess." She didn't notice Orlando at first but when she did she asked, "What are you doing here? How do you know Ruben?"

Ruben answered for him, "Orlando this is my sister, Elodie."

"Your sister?" He asked.

"Yeah, she's why I had to leave early back in China Town. I had to pick her up."

Orlando couldn't look away from Elodie she had an intense look about her. It was almost as if she were trying to decide if he could be trusted. Ruben drew her attention back towards him with his next statement.

"I'm heading down to T.J. I should be back in the morning."

"What? Why?" Elodie was surprised by this.

He simply said, "Hunting."

She squinted as she looked back at Orlando, "with him?"

"I'm not new at this." Orlando said in defense of himself. He didn't like the scrutiny in her eyes.

"It's your gamble." With that said she left the bar.

Chapter Ten – The Hunt

They traveled down the 5 FWY, it was late and Orlando wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing. Nothing seemed to be right any more. The last few days were one surprise after the next. No one was who they claimed to be. Orlando was not even sure if he could trust Ruben. He had just met the guy. He said that he had gotten those bruises from a zombie but he could be lying about it. Ruben was working for Maxwell.

Orlando tried to convince himself not to worry about it. He would see how things played out once they reached Tijuana. But first he had to make a quick stop. He had to meet Fernie in San Diego; the map that had appeared on the back of Orlando's bedroom door had shown an address in the Gaslamp Quarter.

They rode up to a hotel, the Horton Grand Hotel.

Ruben looked up at the old building, "Why are we stopping here?"

Orlando simply said, "We are meeting a friend of mine."

"I thought you were in a hurry to get to Tijuana." Ruben watched as Orlando headed inside the building.

The lobby had vaulted ceilings, decorated mostly in white with columns along side the lobby's walls.

Orlando stopped at the entrance; he spotted Fernie seated in a white wicker chair. Fernie's eyes had settled on them, but his expression was unreadable. He rose from his chair and carefully walked over to Orlando and Ruben.

"You're one of Maxwell's hunters," he held out his hand to him.

Without hesitation Ruben took his hand to shake, instantly he felt the sensation of sharp pins injected into his hand. He cried out in pain, his knees buckled nearly falling to the floor.

Fernie ended the connection by pulling his hand away. "Can't trust just anybody, had to make sure you were clean."

"What did you do to him?" Orlando asked mystified.

Ruben clutched his hand, the sensations were slowly ebbing. "You're a wizard." He said accusingly.

Fernie chose not to answer the question instead he said, "You know," looking around the place, "Wyatt Earp lived here."

Ruben was not ready to let the attack go. "What the Hell, I can't even make a fist."

"What did you do?" Orlando asked again.

"It was a test. He passed."

With his other hand Ruben formed a fist and took a swing at Fernie who ducked. Not happy with that, Ruben lunged at him taking him to the ground. Orlando stood there deciding not to interfere; he folded his arms in front of his chest.

He watched as Fernie deflected most of Rubens assaults, yet he did manage to land one near his kidneys.

With a gust of wind Fernie pushed Ruben away. He landed on his back with a groan.

"We should get going," Orlando had enough of this. He wanted to reach Tijuana and face Maxwell. He had a lot to say to him.

"Yeah, I'm done here." Ruben rose and headed for the doors.

Before he made it to the door the three of them were surrounded by blue light. Orlando was familiar with this light. Fernie was a wizard, he traveled in the light. He was taking them to where they needed to be. Tijuana, Mexico.

Opening his eyes Orlando found that they were on a busy street. There was shouting, the smell of fear in the air. Without giving it another thought Orlando ran towards the sounds.

There were strange colored lights shooting up from the ground, and the people that the light struck were crying out in pain. Orlando watched in horror as they transformed into zombies.

"Don't let the light hit you!" he shouted at Ruben and Fernie as they reached him.

The newly transformed zombies began attacking what was left of the crowd.

"Use your light!" Orlando shouted at Fernie. "Get the survivors out of here!"

Fernie did what he could, but the numbers of survivors were dwindling quickly, as the numbers of zombies increased.

Ruben drew his sword and ran into the thick of the zombies shouting his battle cry. Orlando ran in after him and took a swing with his fist at the first zombie he came into contact with. He had left his sword secured with his Sportster which was miles away from him in San Diego.

He gave a kick to another one; it was a good thing that he was wearing his Harley boots. A hand clamped down onto his head pulling him backwards. He fell flat on the ground. As he looked up he saw that his sword was no longer in San Diego, it was shooting down from the sky straight at him. It was not a sight that he was comfortable with.

Dodging the fall of the sword as he sat up, he grabbed the hilt as it pierced the ground and with it in his hand he swung at an attacking zombie. The head sliced right off.

He had to be careful that the lights that were still shooting out of the ground did not come into contact with him. He sidestepped a light as it shot up near him. Orlando used his sword as if it were a baseball bat and swung at the light. He hit it dead on. With its new direction the light shot out at a zombie hitting it in the chest. As the light made contact the zombie began to shake violently. Amazingly it returned to its human form sinking to the ground unconscious.

Orlando shouted at Ruben telling him what to do with the shooting lights. A few of the zombies ran off in search of prey elsewhere.

Fernie was knelling down beside a victim of the zombie attack. He was trying to help the wounded. His blue light surrounded all of the injured in a healing fashion. They were all absorbed into the comforting light.

"What happened? Where did they all go?" Orlando asked.

Ruben interrupted with his own question, "Dude, what was with the light show?"

Chapter Eleven – Injuries

The shooting lights had turned people into zombies. Orlando didn't think such a thing was possible. It couldn't be.

Fernie remained quiet as they tracked the two remaining zombies. Most of the zombies had fled the scene looking for prey elsewhere. Orlando, Ruben and Fernie had tracked and killed all but two. They were easy to locate. It was only necessary to listen for the screams of their victims.

Orlando looked back at Ruben who was bringing up the rear. He looked troubled.

"What's wrong?" Orlando asked coming to a stop.

"Keep quiet," Fernie answered in an irritated manner. "Keep moving. We have a lot to do tonight."

Fernie took the lead, Orlando held back waiting for Ruben. "What's wrong?"

Keeping his voice low he answered, "Fernie's injured. He's favoring his right side."

Orlando looked over to where Fernie was waiting for them to catch up. He stood there tall and straight. It didn't look like Fernie was suffering from any ill effects.

"It's subtle but it's there." Ruben commented before he looked back over his shoulder in the direction they had come. Something caught and held his gaze.

"He's dying; Maxwell injected him with zombie blood." It was then that Orlando noticed the look on Ruben's face. His eyes followed to see what was responsible for the change.

There was something very small coming up along the street. It was rolling. It made its way closer until they were able to get a better look at it. It came to a sudden halt.

To Orlando, it looked like an old fashioned cannon ball. It began to move again. It rolled out towards the left of them and came around as if it were creating a circle. It began to move faster and faster. The size of the circle was growing wider.

"What is that?" Orlando asked.

The cannon ball suddenly halted. It now lay at Orlando's feet.

"MOVE!" Fernie shouted from behind them.

Orlando could hear Fernie running towards him, but he could not move. The cannon ball held him transfixed.

It shot up at Orlando, hitting the center of his chest and knocking him backwards. He began to fall, although he did not touch the ground beneath him. Darkness overtook him drawing him in until there was nothing more.

Chapter Twelve – Lab

When Orlando woke, he found himself in some sort of lab. There was strange equipment and even stranger noises. It took him several moments to clear his head from the darkness.

He was strapped to a wall. The bindings were tight and he was unable to move an inch. His eyes darted in every direction, trying to find some sort of escape. The room was very dark. The only source of light emerged from the machines. He did not want to find out what they were for.

Orlando caught sight of his sword; it was lying on the floor several feet away from him. Above it rested several knives, they were each different lengths and all of them were affixed to the wall.

The door to the lab slowly creaked open. Orlando's was startled to see his own grandfather enter the room. "Why would you come here?" he carefully asked his grandson.

"Grandpa! Get me down." Orlando was not sure why his grandfather was there. He could be there for any reason, couldn't he? It didn't mean that his grandfather was working with Maxwell. Did it?

The door pushed further open revealing Elodie. She came rushing into the room. "We have to hurry! I hear them coming!"

"Elodie," Orlando nearly growled her name. 'What were they both doing here?'

She stopped as she saw Orlando strapped to the wall. She pushed past Orlando's grandfather and began to release the buckles.

Orlando watched as his grandfather went back to the door. He was looking out, waiting. Orlando didn't know what to make of it. He was confused. "How did you find me here?" He asked the question yet he was afraid of the answer.

Elodie was quick with the answer, "I didn't trust you guys to come out here on your own. I told your grandfather what I knew and he agreed to help me track you guys down. I thought something like this might happen."

There was noise coming from the other side of the door. Elodie had freed Orlando from the restraints.

The door began to vibrate. His grandfather backed away from the door, waiting.

The vibrations became stronger, the door shot open and slammed up against the wall.

"Maxwell!" Orlando's grandfather shouted in a rage.

Maxwell entered the room. He did not look afraid, instead he looked smug. His hands were concealed in his pockets. A wide smile began to form across his face. Looking at his old friend, "You, sneak, into my home, like criminals, Ethan?"

"What have you done here?" Orlando's grandfather looked about the room. His eyes filled with such sadness as he took it all in. Settling firmly on Maxwell he asked, "What did you have planned for my grandson?"

Maxwell removed his hands from his pockets, yet Orlando could see he kept something concealed in his right hand.

Orlando moved closer to his grandfather. He wasn't sure what Maxwell was going to do.

"How did you know how to find me?" Maxwell asked Ethan.

"I know about your old haunts...I know what this place means to you...what your father did here."

"Your father turned into a zombie," Orlando said. He kept his hands at his sides, waiting for Maxwell to play his cards. "You've been turning hunters into zombies."

"My father was a scientist. He was a pioneer. He started with an idea and I took his ideas and made them greater."

"The shooting lights in the streets were your ideas?" Orlando asked.

"The lights are one of my creations." He moved further into the room. "There is much that I wanted to show you, Orlando. You and Ruben were going to help me achieve so much more."

Orlando noticed that Elodie had moved and that she now stood to Maxwell's side. She was moving in.

He had to keep Maxwell distracted from her.

"How could you involve my grandson?" Ethan charged at Maxwell grabbing him by the shoulders.

Maxwell revealed what he had kept hidden in his right hand. It was a syringe which he stabbed into Ethan's chest and injected the fluids into his body.

Ethan fell to the ground and began to convulse. Orlando dropped down beside him and Elodie jumped onto Maxwell's back.

Maxwell tried to toss her off, but she clung on. There was a flash of light that created orange smoke. As it cleared, Orlando could see that both Maxwell and Elodie were gone.

Orlando could hear footsteps from the outer chamber. Ruben and Fernie rushed into the room. Orlando rose with his fist clenched. Looking at Fernie he said, "I think my grandfather was injected with zombie blood."

Fernie knelt down to check him. "You're right. He has been."

"How did he get here? Was he working with Maxwell?" Ruben asked furiously.

"Elodie brought him."

"Elodie?" A look of fear in his eyes as he asked, "Where is she then?"

"Maxwell took her."

Chapter Thirteen - Smoke

Ruben silently stared at Orlando who, after revealing what had happened with Elodie, knelt back down at his grandfather's side to check on him. His grandfather had been injected with zombie blood. It meant that it was only a matter of time before his grandfather died.

"Is he going to be okay? What can we do for him?" Orlando asked Fernie.

Looking directly at Orlando, Fernie said, "There is nothing I can do for him."

Orlando did not want to hear it. He would not take that as the final word. "Maybe if we get a hold on Maxwell, we can make him give us a cure. He must have one."

"Dude, I don't care about your grandfather. My sister is gone! We should be focusing on getting her back. Who knows what Maxwell will do to her?"

Orlando rose to his feet, "My grandfather is dying."

Fernie's gaze traveled between Orlando and Ruben. "How did Maxwell take her out of this room? We did not see them on our way in."

"There was orange smoke, and then they were gone." Orlando eyed Ruben cautiously, watching for a reaction. "I thought Maxwell wasn't a wizard. Ruben, did you know he could move with the smoke?"

Fernie stepped forward. "It's not Maxwell. He is unable to perform such magick. It was Elodie."

"Elodie?" Orlando was surprised by this.

Ruben was quiet. His eyes moved back and forth between Fernie and Orlando. He did not speak.

"Why didn't you say anything? Why keep it a secret?" Orlando asked.

Fernie had his own question. "Where would Elodie take Maxwell?"

"I'm not sure."

That was not what Orlando wanted to hear either, "We need to find Maxwell. We need to make him give us a cure."

"I'm not sure where she would take him."

"You must have a way of contacting each other, so call her." Orlando took a few aggressive steps forward.

"Orlando," his grandfather called up to him. He tried to sit up but found that he was too weak.

Orlando quickly went to his grandfather's side and helped him to sit up.

"I came over with Elodie," his grandfather said very quietly.

"What was that grandpa?" Orlando did not quite hear.

"I came over with Elodie. She brought me here with the smoke. She told me that she comes over often, that she has friends here."

"She told you this?" Orlando questioned. He did not see the guarded look that crossed Ruben's face.

"Yes."

Ruben ran from the room. Orlando hurried after him, his sword in his hand, calling back over his shoulder to Fernie, "Stay here with my grandpa!"

"Go with him," his grandfather said to Fernie.

Orlando caught up with Ruben, who had suddenly come to a halt.

Maxwell stood before him, Elodie at his side. She had a collar around her neck, the type that was used on the zombies to keep them under control.

"Elodie," Ruben called out as he watched her fall to her knees, her hands clasping at the collar around her neck.

Maxwell's voice revealed his excitement as he spoke. "Things have a way of changing in my favor." He took a step back from Ruben and Orlando. "I didn't know, Ruben, that your own sister is a wizard."

"Give me the cure for my grandfather," Orlando demanded.

"He is full of surprises, Ruben," Elodie said. Her voice cracked.

"That's not all he's full of," Ruben said quietly.

Orlando raised his sword, "Let Elodie go and give me the cure for my grandfather."

"What makes you think there is a cure?"

Orlando wasn't listening. "There is always a cure!" he shouted in frustration.

"I finally have myself a wizard. It took me some time, but it finally happened." Maxwell was very pleased with himself. He seemed to be looking at something over Orlando's shoulder.

Orlando heard a movement. He did not turn to look; he didn't want to turn his gaze from Maxwell.

There was a grunt that came from behind Orlando, followed by moaning. He looked over his shoulder, "Fernie, what's wrong?"

Maxwell answered for him, "The zombie blood that he has been fighting for so long has finally taken hold of his system. He is beginning to turn. This is wonderful, A zombie wizard, and you Orlando, will have the first shot at him. As for you Ruben, you can either continue as you have, and by that I mean continue hunting down zombies, or I will have Elodie fight you."

"I will not fight her, and I will not hunt for you." Ruben said.

"You will not have a choice. As you can see, she wears a collar. There is nothing that I cannot make her do."

"Why are you creating zombies?" Orlando did not understand Maxwell's true intentions. What was his endgame?

"I am not the only one creating zombies. There are networks that you do not even know about. We are all competing with one another. If you live past tonight, I just might tell you."

Elodie watched unable to move as Fernie began the change. He was changing into a zombie. She desperately tried to make eye contact with Orlando. After a moment of willing him to look in her direction, their eyes locked. Taking a hair pin from the folds of her hair, she used the distraction to unlock the collar around her neck. She did not remove it, she instead left it on to create the illusion that she was still under Maxwell's hold.

Orlando didn't know what to do about Fernie. He could see that Fernie was fighting the change. There had to be something that he could do to help him. He felt compelled to look in Elodie's direction. He watched as she undid the lock on the collar. He hoped she had a plan, for he certainly didn't.

"Maxwell," she called out to him so that she could be heard over Fernie's agonized shouts. "You've lost your mind."

Maxwell turned to look down at her, a sly smile upon his lips. As he did so, Elodie flung the hair pin up into his eyes. Its glow, a bright gold, blinded him. She flicked the collar off of her neck and had it wrapped around his scrawny neck in the blink of an eye.

Maxwell was unable to remove the collar. It was clamped on too tightly. He shouted at all of them in a rage.

A zombie burst out of a small building. He had a long steel bar clutched in his hand. As the zombie approached, he let out a horrific scream before running into their circle.

Orlando, who already had his sword charged for the zombie, swung it against the steel bar. As adversaries they were evenly matched. The zombie, in one fluid motion, threw his shoulder into Orlando, knocking him off his feet.

As Orlando began to fall, he held up a hand to force the zombie back and away. The center of his chest tightened and the feeling coursed down his arm and out of his fingertips. A purple haze then erupted from the tips of his fingers, which surprised Orlando. He had no idea what was taking place. He felt himself being pulled back into a standing position. As he regained his feet, he took a swing at the zombie with his sword, removing its head from its shoulders.

Orlando turned back to where Fernie and the others were. Elodie knelt above Fernie. An orange glow radiated from her hands as she held them above his chest. Fernie seemed to be calmer. He was no longer shouting in pain.

Maxwell was hunched down in a corner. He was still working on trying to remove the collar from his neck.

"Give us what we need to cure him!" Ruben shouted down at Maxwell.

"What for? You ruined everything. I had buyers for the 'fix' I had created coming tonight, but all this racket more than likely scared them off."

"Do you want to die?" Ruben asked a crack in his voice.

"Maybe," he replied, untouched by the question.

Ruben raised his sword. Orlando called out for him to stop. "He's playing you, Ruben."

Ruben did not turn, but he looked over his shoulder. "He is not cooperating!" he said with an edge in his voice.

"He will." Orlando's eyes conveyed to Ruben a subtle message to leave Maxwell alone for now. He next bent down by Elodie. "How is he?" he questioned, asking about Fernie.

Elodie was about to speak, but Fernie answered for her instead. "I am dying. There is nothing that can be done. I have known for a long time that this was going to happen."

"I'm sure we can make Maxwell give us a cure." There had to be a cure. Surely his own grandfather, who had also been injected with zombie blood, was not going to meet his end this way as well, was he?

Fernie seemed to read Orlando's mind because he said, "There is one thing that can be done for your grandfather."

"What is it?"

Fernie struggled to sit up. "I will show you. Help me get up." Both Elodie and Orlando helped Fernie stand. Once he was standing, he asked Orlando for his sword. Orlando gave it to him with no question. "There are more zombies coming."

Fernie was right. There were three more that were quickly closing in on them. Somehow Fernie found the courage to push away from Elodie and Orlando in order to run out into the pack of zombies. Ruben followed him in.

"No, no, no," Maxwell began to mumble. "Get me out of here!"

"Why? You said you were ready to die," Orlando reminded him.

"Those are not mindless zombies!" he shouted, quickly standing. "They are pumped up on a 'fix', yet they are aware of everything they are doing. They can think on their own!"

Elodie moved and got directly into Maxwell's face. "Then hand over the cure. Do it now before they get any closer."

"Inside my office," he said, "Second refrigerator on the right."

"Go get it, Elodie. Try it on my grandfather." Elodie rushed inside. Orlando pushed Maxwell up against the wall. "If it's not what you say it is, then I will throw you to the zombies."

"It is. It is," he assured him.

Orlando could do nothing but watch as Ruben and Fernie battled the zombies. He could not leave Maxwell in case he ran off. Elodie ran back outside.

"It's doing something. Your grandfather is awake." She held another vial in her hand. "For Fernie," she said.

There was a rumble. The ground began to shake and break apart. Orlando could hear Fernie's voice. As the rumbling began to settle, he could not make out the words, but he clearly heard one of the zombies talking.

"Give us Maxwell, and we will leave."

"No," Orlando stepped forward. "Maxwell gave us the cure. Fernie, I told him that if he helped us we would keep him safe from the zombies."

"Fine, I'll give him to them then. I didn't promise anything," Ruben quickly said. "He turned hunters into zombies. Let's hand him over."

"What do they want him for?" Orlando questioned. "To make something worse, look at them!" He pointed to the zombies. "They have evolved!"

"Just makes them harder to kill."

Orlando could see that Ruben didn't care. That he wanted vengeance for the deaths of his friends.

They didn't have any more time to argue about it. One of the zombies took his sword and ran it through Fernie, who stood the closest to them. Seeing Fernie fall, Orlando reached out for him. Fernie solemnly placed his sword into Orlando's hand.

Ruben swung at the zombie who had attacked Fernie. The other two zombies ran past him to Maxwell. Elodie used her orange light to ward them off. The glare worked for a moment. Maxwell, who suddenly decided that he didn't want to die there, tried to flee from the orange surroundings. That was his mistake. As one of the pumped up zombies picked him up with on hand and tossed him to the other one, who caught him and put him over his shoulder. They both ran off.

It took the efforts of both Ruben and Orlando to kill the remaining zombie. When he was dead, they tried to help Fernie, but it was too late for the old man. His time had ended.

"What just happened?" Elodie asked.

Orlando looked away from Fernie's body to look up at her. "Evolved zombies?" he said, not quite sure himself.

Chapter Fourteen – Changing Tides

"What's the game plan now?" Elodie asked crossing her arms as she looked back and forth between the two of them.

Ruben was quick to step into the role of authority, "We bury Fernie, and then we head back home."

"I won't be able to transport all of us at the same time. I'm not strong enough yet." Elodie uncrossed her arms and stuck her hands in her pockets.

"Just take my grandfather back with you, we will find our own way back."

Both Orlando's and Ruben's motorcycles were parked outside of the Horton Hotel in San Diego, California.

"How will you cross the boarder?" Elodie asked.

"Let's get Fernie taken care of first." Ruben placed his hand on Elodies shoulder, "Get Orlando's grandfather and take him home."

She nodded her head in compliance. She perked up quickly, "I know where we can take Fernie. I have friends here who can help. They have a ranch that they use; I crash there when I'm in town."

Using her orange smoke she lifted Fernie's body, Elodie again looked back and forth between her brother and Orlando as she gave them the directions to the ranch before going on her way.

The ranch was small, it looked run down, and the yard was full of various debris and junk. Ruben kicked an orange bucket out of his path. Orlando's grandfather gave a good laugh, "I've stayed in worse places in my time."

"Elodie," Ruben shouted, giving the old man a sharp glare to let him know that he was not in the mood for ancient stories.

The front door swung open striking the rickety wall so hard that the roof shook, unsettling loose rocks and dirt. Elodie went running out of the small shack. "Come around back with me, the boys were digging a place for him." A young woman stood at the door to the shack. Her face was long and weary. She turned her head over her shoulder and spoke in Spanish.

Elodie led them to an area clear of debris and cast off junk where two young guys had climb out of a six foot hole wide enough for a man.

"Louis and Michael this is my brother Ruben and his friend Orlando, oh and Orlando's grandpa."

The one called Michael stabbed the ground with the shovel as he eyed the new arrivals. "Hello." He said casually.

Louis jumped forward holding out his hand, he shook each of their hands in turn, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Orlando replied. "He was a good friend."

"They always are," Michael said as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "We should finish before the sun comes up." He sounded irritated.

Fernie had been covered in a cloth which wrapped his body completely. Elodie used her orange smoke to gently lower Fernie into the ground. The young woman from the shack appeared along with a young girl who held flowers clenched tightly in her hands. Orlando and Ruben took turns filling in the soil. Elodie stepped forward and used her orange smoke to fill in the remainder. The young girl laid the flowers on the mound.

They stood around the mound in silence, one by one they walked away until only Orlando remained; his eyes fixed on the place where Fernie now laid.

After a moment, he said, "Thank you, Fernie." He knelt down lowered his head and said again, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

Orlando was in deep thought as he entered the shack to rejoin Ruben and Elodie. His grandfather was sitting with the others, he was laughing with them as a bottle of who knows what was passed between them in the circle they made.

"Are you hungry?" Elodie asked. "There are tacos, Raquel makes really good salsa."

Orlando shook his head as he pulled up a seat next to her, "We need to get out of here."

"Ruben is ahead of you on that one. He is making arrangements for the two of you. Like I said, I'm not strong enough to take us all back at once. I told Ruben that I can come back for you guys but he thinks it would be too dangerous." She rolled her eyes as she finished.

"My grandfather needs to get out of here. He has been through a lot already." He knew his parents were at home worried that both he and his grandfather were missing.

"He looks like he's doing all right with everything. You shouldn't doubt him just because he's 'old' he could surprise you."

Orlando was not to sure about that. He knew his grandfather had been a hunter when he was younger and could probably handle himself but these were not the same kind of zombies that were present in his grandfather's day.

Ruben made his way over to them, he had just finished, one of several phone calls and was now satisfied with the progress he had made. He had a few contacts back home who he knew he could trust. They had filled him in on the status of the zombies back home in L.A.; he was told that the night had been quiet. He shared this with Orlando and his sister.

"How are you guys going to get across the border?" Elodie asked concerned.

Orlando didn't think getting across should be a problem. They both had their identification; they could simply walk across. "I don't see a problem, Elodie."

She cleared her throat, "It's not going to be as simple as you think, and border patrol is not going to let two guys cross who are heavily armed. They're going to check you before they let you cross."

Ruben didn't look bothered by this news. Orlando asked him about it. He simply replied, "I already got that figured out. I made a few phone calls. I already have a plan to get us across the border."

Michael came over to their group, "I could help you with that." He tilted his head back towards his friends as he said, "we go back and forth all the time."

Ruben cleared his throat, "Thanks, but I already got it figured out."

"Okay, well do you need a ride anywhere?" Michael asked.

Orlando couldn't see what the problem was, he was all for any ever help they could get. Ruben had suddenly developed trust issues. "Yeah, thanks." Orlando jumped in with a reply before Ruben could dismiss it.

"We don't need it." Ruben stated.

Elodie smacked her hand on the back of her brother's head, "These are my friends Ruben and I trust each one of them."

The others in the room became quiet, in order to break the stillness that now claimed the room, Raquel stood up from her seat and held a hand out to the young girl, "Mirabel come help me clean up."

Mirabel shot to her feet to help.

Chapter Fifteen – Zombies

Louis had stepped outside after making a quick excuse; he lit a cigarette as he walked out.

"Michael, I think that's a great idea." Elodie spoke to him but her eyes were on her brother in case he chose to argue.

Louis suddenly flew back into the shack as he tossed the cigarette he had just lit on the ground and stomped it out with his foot. A look of terror on his face as he said, "There are zombies outside!"

They each jumped to there feet in utter disbelief. Ruben was the first to act as he ran outside the shack to see for himself.

"Elodie, go now, take my grandfather with you." Orlando said in a deadly calm voice.

His grandfather did not want to leave without him, "I'm not going and leaving you here to fight them by yourselves. I can help you."

"Elodie, please, take him and go." He didn't look at his grandfather as he urged her to take his grandfather and leave.

"But I can help," she said.

Ruben rushed into the shack to pick up his weapon. Michael pulled out a cache of weapons from a nearby hiding place.

"Raquel, take Mirabel to the panic room." Michael spoke in a calm voice as he loaded up on weapons.

"You guys got a panic room out here?" Orlando said off handedly.

No one answered him for they were suddenly rushing to different areas, Raquel and Mirabel hurried out the door and Michael pulled down a ladder from the shack's narrow ceiling. He quickly climbed the ladder.

"How did the zombies know to find us here?" Orlando's grandfather asked.

"Who were you talking to Ruben? Did you tell anyone where we are?" Orlando asked irritated.

"Of course not!"

Turning back to Elodie, Orlando urged her once again to take his grandfather and go.

"But I am better crafted with my magick then you are Orlando. You are still a newbie when it comes to your magick."

Ruben cut in, "Take him and go Elodie."

"I have a say in where I go, and I say Elodie and I both stay and help." Orlando's grandfather said determinedly.

"Elodie." her brother had a set look on his face, with a grunt Elodie took Orlando's grandfather by the hand and as the orange smoke began to circle around them she could be heard saying, "But I'm coming right back."

Gun shots sounded from above the shack. "Bullets are not as effective on zombies." Ruben said under his breath before heading out the door.

Over the hill a herd of zombies came charging with Maxwell in tow. Ruben ran towards them engaging in combat with the first zombie he met. The zombie lets loose a blood curling cry as it reached for Ruben.

Ruben rolled to the right side of the zombie, who was not as quick on his feet. He sliced into the zombie, the skin was like leather. Ruben hacked into its side cursing at it as he did so.

Using the back of his hand the zombie sent Ruben flying, head first into a tree leaving him stunned, and waiting for his head to stop spinning so that he could regain his feet.

The zombie made its way toward him, joined by another.

Orange smoke circled Ruben's feet. He looked around for its source. Elodie. She had come back.

The orange smoke circled the head of one of the zombies as it looked down at Ruben. The smoke lifted the zombie off the ground smacking it into the other one.

Ruben regained his feet and drove his sword into the neck of one of the zombies. Using his body weight he severed the zombie's head.

The other one took a swing at Ruben with its claw-like hand knocking him down for the second time.

"Ruben!" Elodie shouted. She drew a hand gun out of thin air, pointing it at the zombie she fired several times.

It drew the zombie's attention and it charged at her.

Ruben picked himself up and ran after the zombie tackling it to the ground. He took the brunt of the impact as the zombie had fallen on him.

Ruben took a dagger out of his pants pocket stabbing the zombie in the eye. Rolling on top as the zombie screamed in pain he removed the dagger and severed the head.

Wiping the blood from his eyes he stepped away from the zombie. Turning to Elodie who flinched seeing the anger in his eyes, "I told you to leave."

"I did, but I came back."

Ruben was not able to yell at her further. There were too many zombies. He had to get Elodie to safety.

A quick look down the yard showed Orlando in combat with a couple of zombies. It looked like he was fairing better then Ruben had.

Orlando ducked as the zombie swung at him. As he came up for air he sliced the zombie from the midsection to its neck. With a twist of his wrist he killed it.

"ORLANDO!" He heard his name. Looking about he discovered Maxwell guarded by a zombie. He had blood dripping down the side of his head and one eye was swollen shut.

From the roof of the shack bullets rained down upon them. Michael and Louis sat on the roof, shot guns in hand.

A zombie took a dagger and threw it up at them hitting Louis in the chest knocking him off the shack.

Orlando lunged for the zombie cutting through the leathery skin. The zombie clawed out at Orlando's chest in retaliation. Orlando let out a roar of pain feeling as if his skin was on fire. He dropped to his knees clutching at the wound on his chest.

The zombie reached out clamping onto Orlando's shoulders, its claws digging down deep.

Summoning up strength, Orlando rammed his sword into the belly of the zombie. Flames erupted from the sword setting the zombie on fire.

Orlando staggered back, putting distance between them in order to ensure that the zombie would not fall upon him.

"ORLANDO!"

He dug the hilt of his sword into the dirt so that he could use it to help him rise. Ruben had killed the zombie who had been guarding Maxwell and was now leading him back to the shack. Elodie appeared by Orlando's side and helped to brace him as they walked into the shack.

"Lie down, let me look at that." She said, urgently.

"No."

"Fine, have it your way. Let me see what I can do." Using her orange smoke she slowly healed him, leaving a faint trace of a scar.

Orlando was not able to ask her how she had developed her magick, as they were interrupted by Ruben dragging Maxwell into the room.

"How did you know where to find us?" Ruben shouted the question at him.

Maxwell looked over at Orlando before he answered. "When Orlando was in my lab I had placed a tracer on him. In case he was to escape."

"You did?" Orlando asked none to happy with that news. "How do I remove it?"

"You don't have to; it wears off in a few days."

"Just great," Orlando mumbled.

"Maybe I can remove it sooner." Elodie placed her hands on either side of his head and closed her eyes. "Searching, hmmm, there it is, it's very faint, but I think I can remove it, or rather wash it away." She opened her eyes and took a step back from him, a smile on her lips as she said, "done."

Michael came in, covered in blood. "Louis is dead." He paced the room like a caged tiger.

"I'm sorry, Michael." Elodie said she knew Louis had been like a brother to Michael.

"It doesn't matter." The rage in his voice said otherwise.

"This guy brought them here." Ruben said pointing at Maxwell.

Michael crouched down to where Maxwell sat; his eyes seemed to be looking into Maxwell's soul. "How do we find them?" Michael asked quietly.

Maxwell blurted out, "You want to find them? Why?"

"They're being made somewhere right? Where is the shop?"

"They have been to my lab," he said pointing to Orlando and Ruben. "My lab is no more."

"We just fought a truck load of zombies, that lab was not large enough to create that many zombies." Ruben said.

"Where is the shop?" Michael asked again.

"What do I get out of it if I help you?"

Orlando pulled Maxwell up to his feet clenching the front of his shirt. "You don't look so well, Maxwell. I don't think the zombies have been taking good care of you. Would you rather go back to them?"

Maxwell didn't think it over long, "There is a shop, but it's more of a warehouse. It is in the border town south of El Paso, Texas."

Maxwell gave them the details. Elodie headed outside as he did so. Orlando followed her out.

"What is it, Elodie?" Orlando asked.

"I can't take all of you, not through magick."

"We know that, we will figure out another way."

"I know, but I also know that Ruben is going to have a fit if he finds out I'm going with you guys."

Orlando nodded his head and changed the subject by asking, "How did you get so good with your magick? Were you tested?"

Elodie let out a laugh before answering, "There are ways of getting around testing. Something you should learn if you want to avoid it, which I think you should if you want to keep what's left of having a normal life."

"I heard the stories about what happens to classified wizards. But how did you learn to use your magick?"

"I taught myself."

Orlando was impressed, "You did?"

"Of course." In a more serious tone she added, "Look, please don't let Ruben know that I'm going to tag along. Let him think that I headed back home. My brother can be a royal pain when his orders are not carried out."

"Sure, I won't say anything."

Elodie smiled, "No, I don't think you will."

Chapter Sixteen – The Warehouse

A few days went by without a sign of any zombies. Ruben began to doubt Maxwell, believing that he shouldn't have been trusted.

The group had grown by one more, with Michael deciding to join them. He wanted vengeance for his friend's death.

They reached the border town and found strangely dressed men walking up and down the streets. They checked into a hotel room leaving Maxwell with Michael while Ruben and Orlando went to check out the town.

They headed northbound following a particular group. "What are they?" Orlando asked.

"I've no idea... they don't look like zombies..." his voice trailed off as they watched the strange group of men head into a factory. Before the door closed a zombie looked out checking the street.

They circled the warehouse looking for another way in. Climbing a set of stairs they found another set of doors and quietly entered. Looking below they found zombies seated with the strange men waiting for someone or something to approach what looked like a stage.

They were not kept waiting long. Two holographic images faded in before the strange looking audience.

The holographic images consisted of two men dressed up in suits looking very dapper. One wore black shades and was the first to speak, "Greatness awaits you... greatness of the magick of wizards will belong to all of us. Not just to a select few!"

The other holographic image nodded his head in agreement before adding, "The testing that has been done on all of you was not in vain. Only a few more elements remain and our plan will be complete."

"Yes." The other holograph clapped his hands. "The alchemist Maxwell was taken by a rough band of hunters. We need to reclaim him in order to complete our research."

"Find him."

Both holographic images faded out leaving the audience in an uproar. The audience members provoked each other and fighting broke out amongst them.

Orlando and Ruben left the way they had come. Knowing far more then they had before.

Chapter Seventeen – The Crossing

Orlando and Ruben walked into the hotel lobby. Each one of them keeping their thoughts private, perhaps that was a good thing. The hotel had no elevator so they had to take the stairs to reach their floor.

Orlando knocked on the hotel room door in a rhythmic pattern. After a moment Michael opened the door for them.

Maxwell was tied to a chair. Ruben advanced on him, "Who were those two dudes in suits? What are they trying to do, because, they sure as hell are not going to be giving whatever they promised to those freaks in the warehouse."

It took some time for Maxwell to answer Ruben's questions. Orlando thought that maybe Maxwell was not going to co-operate so he said, "They are looking for you, Maxwell. They have orders to bring you back."

Maxwell seemed to respond to that, he looked up at Orlando. Maxwell had aged so much in such a short amount of time.

"How many 'dudes' in suits did you see?" Maxwell asked.

"There were two." Orlando answered.

"There are six of these men. Each one performs a specific job. Each one is a con-man and a cut throat. I have been working for them for several years. I was to develop ways to make their magick stronger, more effective. Those six men have high goals and expectations. They desire a future where the right price could help anyone to climb higher up the magick ladder."

Ruben grabbed a fistful of Maxwell shirt, "Why were you experimenting on hunters?"

The hold on his shirt squeezed his lungs causing Maxwell to have a fit of coughing. Ruben relaxed his grip, slightly, allowing Maxwell to answer the question.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Ruben decked him sending both Maxwell and his chair sliding across the hotel room.

Michael rose from his seat on the bed, "He is not going to tell you anything."

"You just don't know how to handle him." Ruben replied, striding over to Maxwell to lift him up off the floor.

"What else is at the factory?"

Maxwell hesitated; the look in Ruben's eyes prompted him to speak, "Most of my research. But there are copies elsewhere."

"Why are they having you create zombies? What are they for?"

"They are the failures of my trails. My mistakes," he said.

Orlando pushed Ruben away from Maxwell to ask a question of his own, "Why are you doing this? My grandfather told me what happened to your father and what you were trying to do. What changed you?"

"Greed." Ruben called out from over his shoulder. He walked over to the door, put his hand on the handle and said, "I'm getting some air." Ruben slammed the door behind him.

"Orlando," Maxwell began. "I want to help you."

Michael laughed. "Oh good, you had a change of conscience. Lucky us." He walked over to the window pushed the shade aside and looked out. He watched as Ruben walked across the street. Closing the shade he added, "Your zombie friends killed a good man when they attacked us. You created them, which means that you killed him."

"He has not been the only one to die. I am sorry for all that I have done."

Orlando didn't buy it. "Look, we don't have the energy to watch you play Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Tell us more about the six, the ones who employ you."

"Dr. Jekyll?" Michael asked with a smirk.

Orlando ignored him as he had his attention fixated on Maxwell, waiting for answers.

"The six of them use holographic form to communicate. They keep their identities private. Each one lives in different part of the country, but I do have some information on one of them. At the warehouse you will find a vault, in that vault is information about one of the six. He was the one who recruited me."

Orlando did not want to return to the warehouse. It was guarded by too many zombies, not to mention those strange looking men he had seen.

"I can see you are in no rush to return to the warehouse. You would have a better chance in going alone. I can give you a map of the warehouse. Give me paper and a pen and I will draw it out for you."

"You couldn't tell us this before?" Orlando asked, roughly.

***

Orlando didn't like the idea of going back to the warehouse alone. But, Ruben was to heavily involved. Maxwell had turned some of his friends into zombies, and Michael had just lost a friend. Neither one of them would be any good in a tight situation.

At least that's what Orlando told himself as he made his way to the warehouse.

He climbed the stairs that he and Ruben had found earlier and let himself into the warehouse. It was quiet. It was dark. The only light came from the outside through the skylights.

Orlando stood on the landing. It had been closed off from anything that would help him get across. He saw that several feet away was a separate landing that connected to a stairway. He was going to have to jump it.

He didn't have much room for error. He backed up and ran, jumping over the steel beam that had blocked off the platform, kicking against it with his heel. He landed on the next platform only to discover that it was not properly affixed to the wall of the warehouse. The platform swung away from the wall crashing back against it with a loud clank. Orlando nearly slid off, but he managed to grab onto the stair rail as his feet began to slide. He pulled himself up. The platform knocked a couple more times against the wall.

Orlando waited. His heart beating fast, he had made so much noise that it was only a matter of time before something would be coming to check it out. He rushed down the stairs which was not easy. His descent caused movement on the stairway, which caused it to clank against the wall.

According to Maxwell, the warehouse was adjacent to a small office.

He heard footsteps and ducked behind several large crates. He didn't see what had passed as he was trying to stay in the shadows.

Orlando heard it move further down, he did as well. He traveled several yards to where Maxwell said the office would be. It was not locked. He pushed the door open and quickly scanned the inside. It was empty. Orlando went for where Maxwell had said the vault would be. In the corner, in the cement floor, he turned the combination. It opened smoothly. Inside wax a simple folder and a vial. Orlando took both the file and the vial.

As Orlando closed the door behind him from the office, the lights in the warehouse switched on. He was not alone. Surrounding him were several zombies. And they all looked hungry. They seemed to move forward at the same time as if on cue.

He was quicker then they were. He ran towards the main exit. A man came charging at him, taking them both down on to the floor. He had blood on his chin, his hair, mostly pulled out of his head. He was on all fours like an animal growling at Orlando.

The other zombies had caught up to them.

They began to circle Orlando. And as they did so they began to close the circle in on him.

A hungry one lunged at him. Orlando knocked him down with his fist. A second zombie pulled at Orlando's arm. Orlando grabbed him around the neck and threw him into the other one.

Orlando's leg slid out from under him as the hungry zombie he had knocked to the floor had inched its way over to him and pulled him down.

Orlando summoned his purple smoke, it swept out like a shield around him, pushing the zombies away. Deciding to make use of the crates that were stacked everywhere he ran to the nearest one, touching it with his hand he set it on fire. He then pushed it onto another crate creating a domino effect.

Not waiting around to witness the chaos, Orlando made his way to the exit, and he didn't look back.

Chapter Eighteen – The Growl

"This says that your contact lives in Los Angeles." Orlando said. He had read the file on his way back to the hotel. Ruben and Michael were going over it themselves.

"Yes." Maxwell said.

"We have to get back to L.A. we have to find this guy."

They were all silent, "We can cross the border into El Paso, Texas. I have some coyotes that can help us." Michael said.

"Coyotes?" Orlando asked not following. He had never heard the term before.

Ruben answered, "Coyotes are people who get immigrants across the border."

"I will make the call." Michael said. He removed his cell phone from his back pocket.

"Will you let me go, now?" Maxwell asked, hopefully.

"Sure, why not?" Ruben said with a smirk on his face.

Orlando took a few steps towards Maxwell and said, "I don't think you have told us everything. Until you do, you're staying close by."

"Close by?" Maxwell asked.

Orlando only nodded his head in response he didn't elaborate.

A rock smashed through the hotel window, landing in the center of the room. The glass shards splintered as they hit the floor, Orlando covered his face with his arm.

Ruben grabbed Maxwell by his shirt and yelled at Orlando to follow them out of the room.

"What was that?" Orlando asked as he followed them out.

"Don't care." Ruben called out from over his shoulder as he dragged Maxwell along.

Behind, Orlando heard a loud crash and smoke sputtered out of the room. Orlando was quick to move. He followed Ruben down into the stairwell. They both halted at the exit. Orlando eased the door open, the way looked clear.

Maxwell began coughing, he appeared to be chocking. He grasped at his neck as if he were trying to clear it of some hold.

Ruben released his clenched fist from Maxwell.

Maxwell's cough became deeper; smoke began to emerge from his mouth.

Ruben pushed Orlando out the doorway. Orlando could not turn his eyes away from Maxwell as he dropped to his knees in pain.

"What is going on with him?" Orlando asked.

Michael ran into the lobby, "Over here!" he shouted.

Orlando asked his question again, wanting to know what was happening to Maxwell.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Michael said as he headed for the lobby's exit. He held the door open, "Over here."

Ruben wasted no time, Orlando could not look away.

Maxwell braced his hand on the door handle of the stairway. He rose to a low squat. His head hung low, his coughing eased. He began making a strange noise. It sounded like a growl.

He suddenly charged at Orlando, who was the closest to him.

Maxwell threw his body at Orlando, who fell onto his back. He pushed Maxwell up and over his body. Maxwell landed near Ruben and Michael.

Michael took his sidearm out and fired at Maxwell, it didn't look like he was injured by the gunshots. He ran at them on all fours, as he reached Michael he smacked him across the face and took the gun from him.

Orlando jumped onto Maxwell's back, his arms around his neck in a choke hold.

"Don't kill him!" Ruben shouted as he circled them.

"Kill him!" Michael said in response.

Orlando paid neither one any attention, he focused his magick. Hoping it would work as he wanted.

Purple smoke erupted from Maxwell. From his ears and mouth, it came.

Orlando released his hold from Maxwell's neck and stepped away. Maxwell fell to the floor as the smoke cleared.

Maxwell gave a few coughs and then drew his eyes to Orlando.

Orlando moved closer to where he lay. His eyes seemed to clear as Maxwell said, "They were afraid that I would talk. The next bomb will be marked for you."

"What happened to you?" Orlando asked.

"When you get back to L.A. go to my lab in China Town. Ruben, he knows where it is. I have information hidden there that can help you."

Ruben squatted down next to Maxwell, looking him in the eyes he asked, "Why would you give us anything?"

"They killed me." He simply said.

"We need to get out of here, we can't stay here; the Mexican police will be coming by." Michael was once again by the lobby door.

Orlando didn't want to leave Maxwell, "he can give us information."

"He's dead." Ruben closed Maxwell's eyes, and then stood. "Orlando." He called back.

Chapter Nineteen – The Border

The coyotes drove them out of town in a small truck. Orlando, Ruben and Michael sat in the bed of the truck inside the camper. None of them spoke as they were driven out of town.

Orlando had not wanted to leave Maxwell there, although he didn't deserve anything better from them. It just felt wrong.

The truck came to a halt, Michael was the first to step out; he walked around to the driver side of the truck and spoke a few words in Spanish to the coyotes.

Orlando looked around and found himself in the middle of nowhere.

"Don't look so scared," Ruben rechecked his weapons before adding, "The chupacabra doesn't come out this far." He gave a laugh.

Michael rejoined them as the coyotes drove down the road leading to town.

"We can cross down here," Michael led the way down the rocky path. "The border portal won't be by for another hour."

"How do you know this?" Orlando asked as he followed Michael down the path.

"That's what we pay the coyotes for."

"I thought they were supposed to get us all the way across." Ruben asked irritated.

"This is as close as they will go."

Orlando thought that maybe Michael didn't want to elaborate.

"There is a thin fence up this way. We can jump it and be in El Paso, Texas." Michael pointed up ahead.

Orlando could see the faint outline of a fence. It looked to be made out of wood. He looked around feeling uneasy; he didn't want a run in with the border patrol.

"If they come, don't run." Michael said in warning.

His words made Orlando even more uncomfortable. The thin wooden fence seemed that much farther away.

The walk was the longest that Orlando had ever had to endure. They reached the fence. It was old, and looked to be falling apart. Michael was the first to scale it; he was over the wall in seconds.

"Go for it." Ruben said to Orlando, urging him over the wall.

Orlando noticed that Ruben was keeping a look out. Orlando reached for the top of the wooden fence, grabbing onto it he pulled his body up and threw his legs over the fence. It was a short drop to the other side.

Ruben was at his side seconds later. They had crossed safely.

"Welcome to El Paso," Michael brushed the dirt from his pants leg and headed into town.

Chapter Twenty – The way home

After finding a car that would get them to San Diego, they made their way onto the 10 freeway. Michael's cell phone kept ringing breaking the silence in the car. He would not answer the phone; he eventually set it to silent.

"You should slow down," Orlando told Ruben who was driving. Orlando sat in the passenger seat. Michael was seated in the back, he had his eyes closed and looked to be sleeping.

"It's fine." Ruben said. He didn't bother to slow done one bit.

Orlando was worried that they might get pulled over for speeding. They had picked up the car in El Paso; it belonged to a friend of a friend, according to Michael. Orlando wasn't to sure about that.

It was seven hundred and twenty four miles from El Paso to San Diego. Which was about eight and a half to nine hours, Ruben was aiming to make it closer to eight hours.

They had to drive through New Mexico and Arizona and they drove non-stop.

Once they reached San Diego, Ruben parked the car a few blocks down from the Horton Hotel. Michael took the keys from him, telling them that he would see them in Los Angeles.

Orlando hoped that his Sportster was still where he had left it.

Fortunately, it was. With a sigh of relief at this good fortune, he gave it a quick check over and started it up.

****

China Town was quiet. It was late, and the streets were bare. Ruben was the first to park his Kawasaki sport Z1000. Orlando got a strange feeling, almost as if he were reliving the first time he had come to China Town with Ruben. He had the same feeling of uneasiness but now it was accompanied with dread.

"All the times I have been here before," Ruben's voice was gruff as he looked at the withered building, "I wouldn't have guessed he was doing experiments on hunters or even involved with such shady people."

Orlando placed the keys to his Harley in his pocket and dismounted. He looked over his shoulder to see if Ruben was still sitting on the Kawasaki or if he had joined him. He found that he had remained seated.

"Not much you can do, if you stay there." Orlando said, not sure of what to do.

"I'm not going in with you."

In mid stride Orlando came to a stop and asked confused, "Why not?"

"Too many bad memories, I need to face them on my own. Just wait out here."

Orlando wasn't sure what was going on, but he gave a simple yes with a tilt of his head in compliance and stepped aside as Ruben walked in on his own. Thinking to make better use of his time he walked across the street to a small Chinese restaurant for some food. He sat in a booth by the windows to keep watch on the building across the street.

He ate quickly, realizing that he was starving. About ten minutes later, Orlando saw Ruben standing out by the motorcycles; he was strapping a bag onto the bike.

Orlando pushed the chair back from the table and hurried out of the restaurant leaving his tray at the table. He quickly rejoined Ruben asking him what he had in the bag.

Ruben didn't answer; he started up the motorcycle, a sullen expression on his face.

Without saying any more Orlando followed him for several blocks until Ruben stopped at the bottom of a grassy hill. He looked back over his shoulder and pointed up. It was a narrow paved road that led up the hill. At the top of the hill was a street lined with houses on the right side and the rest of the hill on the left. Further up the street was a dirt road that led to a single house. Orlando followed as Ruben continued along the dirt road. There was a metal gate that blocked the road. Ruben stopped right along side it and kicked it open with his foot, after kicking some dirt with his tire he drove through the gate.

The gate led into a yard that was lacking grass, the house itself looked old but well kept. Orlando parked his motorcycle and removed his helmet. Ruben had removed the bag and had it slung over his shoulder. Elodie was at the front door. She didn't say anything to her brother as he walked past her into the house.

"I meant to go back, but I couldn't." she said as she walked over to him. "There was some trouble here."

"There was?" Orlando asked.

She simply said, "Yeah."

There was a loud shout coming from inside the house followed by someone calling out Elodie's name.

Ruben was standing at the door, he did not look very happy. "What happened to the house?"

Elodie cleared her throat; she shot a quick look at Orlando before answering, "I was in the middle of cleaning it up. But, um, some people were here looking for you."

Orlando was surprised by this and asked, "Who?"

"I don't know, they just tore the house apart, they didn't talk much."

Ruben turned and walked back into the house.

"Did they hurt you?" Orlando asked her.

She shook her head before answering, "Just my pride. There were too many of them for my magick to handle."

"Did they take anything?"

"No, they spent about five minutes trashing the house and then just left."

"What did they look like?"

"They were in suits. Which I thought was weird. I mean what sort of people walk around in suits trashing other people's houses?"

Ruben was striding out of the door with the bag that he had had earlier slung over his shoulder once more. "Elodie, it's not safe here for you. Get a few things we're moving."

Elodie chose not to argue with him. She ran back into the house.

"She said they were in suits." Orlando told him when they were alone.

"I haven't been able to read the file I took. I want you to take it and keep it with you." He handed the bag to Orlando.

"What are you planning?"

"They tore up my house. My sister was here. What do you think I'm planning?"

"Revenge. What are you going to do?"

Elodie came rushing out of the house. She had a backpack with her. Ruben ignored the question and started his bike. Elodie sat behind him.

"Where are you going?" Orlando asked.

Elodie gave him a half smile before strapping her helmet on and Ruben didn't answer. They drove out of the yard and back down the hill.

Orlando was left holding the bag. Literally. He squatted down and looked inside. There were a few files inside. He went through a few of them before he found the one he was most interested in. The location of one of the six men, the location of the one who lived in Los Angeles, he was going to find him.

Orlando knew he couldn't return home just yet. His parents and his grandfather would not understand. He couldn't return home until it was finished.

Chapter Twenty – One – Nine Lives

Orlando parked his motorcycle several blocks from the house. It was dark and he didn't want the sounds of his Harley to give him away. After Ruben and Elodie had left him, he went inside the house to see what he could use. He needed a change of clothes. He found an old black trench coat that fit him– it was a little big but it would work for the night.

The front of the house where he now stood was lined with trees, blocking the view from the street. He walked around the fence looking for an entrance. He heard men talking near a rear gate. Orlando ducked into the shadows. He inched his way closer so that he could hear them better.

"There's some trouble at the warehouse. I need you to get over there and handle it."

"I'm not going there alone. Have you seen that place?"

"Get over there now. Or I will let Mr. Jeffries know that you would like to be a volunteer for the experiments."

"No, don't do that." Without further encouragement he turned and hurried down the street towards Orlando. Orlando pushed himself further against the fence. The shadows of the trees shielded him from discovery.

Mr. Jeffries was the name in the file. Howard Jeffries. The man at the gate dialed a number on his cell phone, after a moment's pause he began to speak. "Alert Mr. Jeffries that I am sending a volunteer down to the warehouse for him. Mr. Jeffries should be very pleased. He is a prime candidate."

Howard Jeffries was not home on this particular evening. He was at his warehouse. Orlando waited until the gate was clear before he followed the man who was on his way to the warehouse.

****

It was an ominous building; it was massive, sitting at the edge of the water. Orlando followed the man to the beach which was not far from the Mr. Jeffries' home in Long Beach. The water was still, as if it were afraid to come near the warehouse. Gargoyle heads were carved into the stone building. Some of them had fallen and lay on the ground in pieces.

Orlando climbed over the fence to get closer. There was an opening cut into one side of the building; it looked like it had been used for trains at one time because train tracks led the way in. All was dark but at one upper corner of the building, there was a yellow light.

Orlando saw the man from the street making his way into the structure. He knew this would be his only sure chance of getting inside and close to Howard Jeffries.

He ran up to the man and with his magick he shot purple smoke at him. The man dropped to the ground. Orlando searched through his pockets. Finding his wallet he pocketed it. "You're going to thank me for this." He said as he regained his feet. He dragged the fallen man into the shadows.

Standing at the mouth of the warehouse Orlando stared into the darkness. After a brief moment of hesitation he walked into the warehouse. Inside the air was still, and quiet. He didn't feel alone. He felt someone watching him but he couldn't see much of anything. Orlando looked around for any sign that he was not alone but he couldn't see; it was too dark. He managed to find a set of stairs and followed them up.

There was light on the second floor. Orlando could see where he stepped, and he could see that the walls were decayed and the floor was rotted. He could not see how a place like this could be used for a lab.

"Hello?" Orlando called out. "They told me to come up here."

A man stepped out of the shadows. He looked young, only a few years older then Orlando. His blonde hair was slicked back and he had a pleasant look about him.

"Mr. Jeffries?" Orlando asked.

"Yes, why don't you come into my office? There are some things that I need assistance with." Mr. Jeffries stepped aside so that Orlando would be able to enter into the lab.

Orlando did so without hesitation. "They told me to come right over."

"I'm glad they did."

Orlando walked further into the room, the yellow light on the table flickered. The waves of the ocean below the window pulled back as if to tell him to come down and flee. Orlando moved to stand on the other side of the table to put a safe distance between him and his adversary. His hand moved to the hilt of the sword that he had tucked into the trench coat, "Maxwell sent me to say hello, Mr. Jeffries."

Mr. Jeffries gaped before he said, "Maxwell sent you?"

"Before he died."

"Who are you?" Mr. Jeffries asked mystified.

"Fernie I'm sure would say hello, too, if he hadn't been killed by your men or whatever they are."

"Who are you?" he asked again.

"I used to be just a regular kid."

Without asking any more questions Mr. Jeffries ran to a control panel along one wall. He quickly keyed in a number sequence and tried to run out the door. Orlando grabbed him from behind and pulled him back into the room. The blade of the sword at Mr. Jeffries' neck, "You sent men to Elodie's home, they terrorized her, men in suits who are they?"

"You're going to kill me, a regular kid like you?"

"I said I used to be a regular kid. Who were those men?"

"They are a special section of agents. Nothing more then puppets."

"I don't believe you. I know that you are one of the 'six'– tell me where I can find the other five." Orlando didn't need Mr. Jeffries to give him an answer he knew the address of one of the other six. It was in the files.

"How did you find me?"

Orlando didn't have time to answer. Men dressed in suits were at the doorway. They pushed at each other to get into the room. Orlando kicked at the closest one before tightening his hold on Mr. Jeffries. He pushed him into a corner and dug a dagger from his back pocket which he pierced into Mr. Jeffries' shirt collar and into the wall. "Stay here!" Orlando shouted.

Orlando swung at the first 'puppet' knocking it onto the floor. With its arms and hands it only reassembled itself and rose to its feet. The same happened with the others. Orlando used his purple smoke to push the puppets out of the door and swung it shut behind them. That only held them off for a moment. Mr. Jeffries gave up trying to free himself and began laughing at Orlando's predicament.

Orlando continued to chop away at the puppets looking for a way to defeat them. Nothing seemed to have any effect on them.

"You can not kill what's never been alive!" Mr. Jeffries shouted amid his laughter.

A white light appeared in the doorway. Orlando could not pay it any attention while he was busy trying to keep himself alive. The puppets succeeded in putting a few scratches on him and one tore at his shirt.

The puppet that had just torn a cut into Orlando's chest was suddenly yanked away; a hand had appeared in the center of the puppet's chest before forming a fist that pulled outward. The puppet dropped to the ground in pieces.

"Always go for the heart."

Standing there in his ghostly form was Fernie, with a half smile he turned to another puppet and did the same to it.

Orlando reached for Mr. Jeffries, "Let's go." He said.

"Orlando," Fernie called back. "You can't make it down the stairs."

"Let go of me!" Mr. Jeffries shouted.

Orlando ignored Mr. Jeffries as he looked for another exit; he looked out the window for a fire escape. There was none. He picked up the chair that had been tucked under the desk and threw it at the window, breaking the glass.

"What are you going to do?" Mr. Jeffries asked. "Are you going to throw me out the window? No! I'll talk!" He began to back away from Orlando.

Orlando grabbed him by the torn collar of his shirt and together they fell out the window and into the water below.

As they sank into the ocean Orlando lost his hold on Mr. Jeffries who was sinking fast. He swam down to retrieve him. Within moments they were both at the waters surface and Orlando was pulling Mr. Jeffries onto shore. Fernie was waiting for them on the beach.

"You couldn't have helped?" Orlando asked disgruntled.

"I'm a ghost! What do you expect me to do?"

Mr. Jeffries had his face buried in the sand.

"What are you going to do with him?" Fernie asked. "Kill him?"

"No, I'm not going to kill him," Orlando answered right away. "I don't know."

At hearing this Mr. Jeffries pulled his head out of the sand. "Kill me? No! I can be useful."

"I think he can be." Fernie said. "Orlando, I don't have much time. I could only return to help you this once."

"Why?"

"I don't belong here anymore."

"Where will you go?"

Mr. Jeffries looked around the beach before asking, "Who are you talking to?"

Orlando was puzzled by his question, "Don't you see him?"

"See who? Are you some lunatic?" Mr. Jeffries fell face forward back onto the sand.

Fernie had struck him on the back of the head. "Only you can see me. I don't have much time left, Orlando. There is so much that you have left to do. At my home you will find people who can help you. People that you can trust, write my address down."

Orlando checked his pockets for a pen. Not finding one he checked Mr. Jeffries and found one. On his palm Orlando wrote the address.

Fernie was gone.

****

With Mr. Jeffries in tow he found Fernie's home. It was a camp site. Trailers and tents, bonfires were lit and music was everywhere. Elodie stepped out of a trailer. "I knew you would come!" She ran from the trailer and called out over her shoulder for Ruben. "Who is this guy?" She asked as she came to a sudden halt.

Ruben made his way over and Orlando answered her question, "He is one of the six. He is going to be very useful, right Howard?"

"This young man is insane! He talks to dead people! You have to help me!" He pleaded with them both. Neither Ruben nor Elodie seemed troubled by the allegations.

"Where can we stash him?" Orlando asked as he looked around the busy campsite.

"Over here." Ruben said as led the way.

"I'm so glad you're here, Orlando." Elodie said as she followed grabbing his arm. "Lucky you, I'm going to ride with you to school in the morning. What will King George think of that?"

Keep a look out for the next installment of The Chronicles of Orlando

&

Mishap & Retribution

Coming in spring 2012

About the Author:

M.M. Shelley is a storyteller, word smith and dreamer. MISHAP AND MAYHEM, a captivating story of faerie's and magic, is her debut novel. She has traveled the world extensively in search of the magic which is often overlooked in every day life. M.M. Shelley is a native of southern California, and a student of mythology from which she gets much inspiration.

Visit M.M. Shelley on her website or blog for previews and more

http://mmshelley.blogspot.com

Or

www.mmshelley.com

