Zombie Road: The Second Omnibus by Simpson, A. (e ink manga reader .txt) 📗

One of the ladies came hurrying up with a basket filled with fresh bread, fruits, and homemade cheese as he got ready to leave.

“One more thing,” Dozer added as he passed it through the window, then stepped away from the door as Jessie slid the bars up to lock them in place. “If you come across a bunch of beautiful women somewhere, make sure you let them know there’s some handsome devils out here in Cimarron Valley.”

Jessie laughed, bumped fists, and dropped it in gear.

8

Scarlet

She stood tall, regal, and statuesque with all the trappings of a Goddess, her black hair waxed and glowing. It hung straight to her shoulders in dozens of small braids, except the single long mane that fell to the center of her back. Hair extensions had been weaved in and all of it dyed the deepest raven, darkening her natural blonde blacker than black. Her eyes were painted in the traditional Eye of Ra manner, the teardrop and curl covering half her pale cheeks. She wore the mask of Bastet, the cat face covering half of hers, the golden ears standing erect. A broad collar covered half her chest in shining, hammered gold, her arms were adorned with more golden bracelets and bands encircling her biceps. The flowing silks of the gauzy pants and open-fronted burnoose barely covered her nakedness, but that was the whole idea. Let them see beauty and perfection. The gracefulness and power of the Cat Goddess, as she stood side by side with her Jackal-headed father holding the Staff of Anubis.

He had an announcement to make to his loyal subjects and they’d been building up to it for a week. Her father was obsessed with all things ancient Egypt and somehow, he’d managed to get hundreds of rabid followers in just a few months. It was hard for her to accept this new version of him. Her whole life she’d known him as a little dotty, a little too extreme in his beliefs, a little too zealous in his position as the Egyptologist for the Minnesota Public Museums, a little too demanding of his archeology students at the college, but still, he was dad. He was the guy who binge-watched the History channel and liked pineapple on his pizza. He was the devoted husband and father, if he wasn’t off digging around some ruin over in the Nile Valley. Now, she barely recognized him. He had changed so much, she believed he was falling into madness. The loss of her mom, the whole zombie uprising, and then teaming up with the weird scientist had sent him over the edge. She knew he wasn’t some messenger from the God of the Underworld, he was an opportunist. He was probably just a few shades short of being full blown crazy and the scientist was no better. In fact, he encouraged the madness, fed it ceaselessly, because it helped him get what he wanted.

It was all worth it, she reminded herself. Sometimes it took a little insanity to rebuild an insane world. It took a special person, someone beyond the norm. The sacrifices they had to make, the loss of innocent lives, it was all for the greater good. The prisoners they had taken, had injected with good doctor Stevens’ experimental concoctions, had finally borne fruit. They had a vaccine of sorts. Not a cure, there was no curing death, but a blend of various elements extracted from newly turned zombies that made them think you were one of them. Made them ignore you unless you acted really human by jumping around, or running from them, or screaming.

The ceremony was interminable. The jewelry she was wearing was heavy and uncomfortable. She kept her poise, moved fluidly, the golden feline mask hiding her identity. She acted like a Goddess. She pretended. Her father actually believed he was the divine messenger of Anubis. He wasn’t the same person he used to be. What started out as the chance for him to live out a fantasy had become his new reality. The people believed it, too. “Why shouldn’t they?” doctor Stevens had insisted when she expressed her embarrassment at the charade.

Hadn’t Joseph Smith started a whole new religion by claiming an angel came down and showed him some golden plates?

Hadn’t Mohammed started his movement by having visions while alone in a cave?

Hadn’t David Koresh lead dozens of his Branch Davidian followers to a fiery death with a gun battle against the government?

Mary Baker Eddy wrote her own bible and started the Christian Scientists cult.

Hadn’t a science fiction writer created Scientology from some self-help books?

Manson’s followers tried to start a race war by chopping up innocent people so Charlie would rule over all the surviving blacks after they killed all the white people.

The Moonies held mass weddings where people who had never met before got married.

Heaven’s Gate followers put quarters in their pockets, purple cloths over their faces, and committed suicide while wearing Nikes.

Jim Jones gave a whole new meaning to drinking the Kool-Aid.

Carlos Castaneda founded a movement based on the teachings of an ancient Indian Shaman and it was mostly fiction, all lies.

There were millions of devil worshipers, earth worshipers, and even Johnny Cash worshipers worldwide. Why shouldn’t people flock to a new religion, especially after their world had ended, billions were dead, and the apocalypse was happening? The graves were open and the dead walked the earth. What was so hard to believe about a divine messenger who had the answers, the safety, the food, and the cure? Not to mention the low-grade LSD added to the ritual wine that would open their minds, their spirits, and their bodies to the pleasures Anubis wished them to enjoy.

She rolled with it. She did her duties, hid her doubts and when required, played dress up. The things they did were for the betterment of everyone and if the religion had its dark side, the people that were sacrificed weren’t killed