《Black Casket》 Ritual of the Dead Chapter 1 Ray The sun begins to rise above the barren farmland. My new smartwatch reads 7:30 a.m. It¡¯s only a half-hour until showtime. I feel the excitement rushing through my veins. I race forward, heading for the ultimate destination; home. Mom and dad are going to be thrilled to see me. ¡°Forget about it, Rig,¡± says a somewhat somber, yet caring voice. I stop dead in my tracks. I hate that stupid nickname. ¡°John, that¡¯s not my name!¡± The grizzled old man shoots me a smirk. That¡¯s John, or as everyone here calls him, John the Digger. I turn around as he continues hacking the earth, switching between his trusty pickaxe and shovel. He pauses, tipping his wide-brimmed hat, dressed like an undertaker in a black shining jacket, pants, and black steel-toed boots. He¡¯s my only ¡°friend,¡± since I moved here a year and a half ago. To him, and mostly everyone else, I¡¯m a bit of a rebel. John is halfway through the dirt. ¡°Kid,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯ve been here for over a year. You turned eleven three weeks ago. You should be used to the system by now. You can¡¯t see your loved ones... Not possible.¡± John takes a whiff of air, breathing in this ¡°paradise.¡± A large group of sickly greenish people are marching to loud hip-hop music. I nod to the rhythm. John smiles. ¡°See?¡± he says. ¡°This place isn¡¯t as bad as you think.¡± I hide my smile with an unimpressed look. It¡¯s so fun. Everyone is eating cotton candy, playing fun games, carrying sparklers. Even total strangers join in. As if. I¡¯ll pass. It¡¯s fleeting, just a distraction from this cruel reality. We¡¯re dead, stuck between life and death because those here died unfulfilled, with regrets deep enough to keep them from passing on. I¡¯d do anything to be alive again. John¡¯s almost done with the hole; time to get into character. I roll my eyes to the back of my head and stretch my arms out. A man climbs out of the same hole. He¡¯s wearing a business suit. His jaw is hanging from the seams, slightly decomposed. It heals immediately ¡°Aarrraghhh!¡± I growl. He slips into the hole, trembling like a baby. ¡°Zombie! Please¡­ don¡¯t eat me!¡± he pleads. The look on his face is priceless. It makes me laugh until I cry. The zombie bit gets them every time. John gives me a disappointed scowl, shaking his head in disapproval. ¡°Really, Rig, that¡¯s the only thing that makes you happy?¡± ¡°Stop calling me that!¡± I shout. ¡°It¡¯s Ray! How hard is it to say Ray?¡± But he¡¯s right. I hate being dead, so scaring the life out of new visitors is the only way to show my living side. That and I love the look on their faces like they¡¯re gonna pee themselves. The man gets to his knees, begging. ¡°Please don¡¯t eat me! I¡¯ll pay you anything. I¡¯ll get you some makeup for that skin condition. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s healthy.¡± John grabs the man¡¯s hand, pulling him out of the grave with such a force that the man¡¯s arm comes off. John takes a needle and thread from his pocket, sews the man¡¯s arm back, and then rotates it. It¡¯s good as new. John¡¯s calm face relaxes the new resident. He takes the man to a nearby stump and tells him to take a seat. ¡°You¡¯re dead,¡± John says, without hesitation. Ouch. He could¡¯ve eased the man into the news. Instead, he ripped the Band-Aid off The man stares at John in disbelief. ¡°It can¡¯t be.¡± I look at all the greenish, pale, ashy, and bluish people moving around. The pain is sinking in. The man breaks down into a sad mess, thrashing around, and then beats the soft soil with his fist. I fight back the tears as I approach the man. I embrace him, hoping to calm him down. I remember I was like the businessman, crying for hours, alone, without my parents. My uncle came, trying to make me feel better. But I still felt that hole inside. That emptiness. John explains to the businessman this is another chance at life. The man¡¯s eyes are filled with hope. I pat Bill¡¯s shoulder, taking a deep sigh. ¡°Mr. Bill, uh, what John said was nice and all, but there are three problems with being a zombie. First, you can¡¯t see anyone you cared about when you were living.¡± Bill gives me a stunned expression. ¡°I can¡¯t see my wife and kid, or my parents.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the toughest part of this. I can¡¯t see my parents, either.¡± I sigh depressingly. ¡°Second, we zombies have a time restriction when entering the living world. And finally¡­¡± I take a pouch from my pocket. I dig into it, pulling out a tooth and a packet of salt. I tear the packet open, dumping the salt on the tooth. It combusts into yellowish-green flames before turning to ash. ¡°Salt is bad for zombies. It destroys the molecular bonds in our bodies.¡± I¡¯m riddled with guilt looking into his sad puppy-like eyes. ¡°But being dead still has its perks,¡± I smile. ¡°Our bodies are imbued with necro energy, which is the opposite of life energy in living people. It pretty much allows us to have a living-like body. We age like a normal person, but the older we get, the more our bodies decompose. Like yourself here, we spent six months in the ground. The dirt revitalizes our cells with necro energy, preventing decomposition from moisture and humidity. You sleep through it and don¡¯t remember a thing, until you wake up, realizing you¡¯re buried under hundreds of pounds of dirt, screaming, digging yourself out, wondering what the heck is going on.¡± ¡°Sounds like an annoying, 11- year old, African-American kid I know.¡± John snickers, looking at me.¡± I shoot John a wary scowl. ¡°Also, we need food, water, sleep, oxygen like any other living creature.¡± Bill gives me confused look. ¡°So we have to consume human flesh to survive?¡± I feel the frustration rising inside of me. Calm down, Ray, breathe. John takes note of my exasperated expression and takes over. ¡°The kid hates that question, and so do I. We have the same diet as a living person, so why on God¡¯s green earth would we eat people?¡± John has a nearby zombie escort Bill to the farm. That¡¯s what I call home. It¡¯s actually a place called Moss Town that houses newly dead residents. It¡¯s ran by the Zombie Accord Services, aka ZAS, an organization that keeps us protected from dangers from outside our borders, as well as serving as a starting place to get us adjusted to the whole being dead thing. John¡¯s job involves finding undead residents buried under the dirt. I don¡¯t know how he finds them; it¡¯s like he just knows. It¡¯s boring because they keep us tied up with the rules for our safety. The town has everything to keep us happy, but that¡¯s not enough. We just want to live the way we did when we were alive and get a chance to breathe and not be smothered like overprotective children. We also have zombie factions, which is a fancy term for a group of undead outlaws or gangs. They¡¯re pretty bad, like looting, killing, burn-your-town-down-with-everyone-in-it bad. But they never come here. There are also dangerous undead creatures and monsters that wander around, killing or eating anything living or undead; sometimes they just cause mayhem for the thrill of it. As I glance back at Bill, his smile turns to a frown. This place is nice, but it¡¯s not a paradise. Unlike them, unlike the rest of these corpses, I¡¯m going to find a way to be alive again. I swear I¡¯m going to return to my family. Me and John get into an old mustang. He starts the car with a rusted-beat-up key and drives off. I don¡¯t want to go back to the farm. John plays 90¡¯s pop music in the car throughout the whole ride. Within an hour, John and I arrive back in town. We exit the car. In bustling Moss Town, zombies are moving about, going on with their mundane lives. One man is playing poker with his friends, laughing to his heart''s content. A short woman across the street with stitches across her nose is watering her plants. A large group of zombies are showing their tickets to the staff, as they pass through a bright portal that leads to the Living World. A normal Moss Town day. A kid my age throws a ball my way. I gear myself up for a pitch and let it go. It crashes through a window. I laugh nervously as John lowers his hat, taking a deep sigh. ¡°Kid, that¡¯s the third window this month,¡± John sighs. ¡°What am I going with you?¡± An old man with bags under his eyes looks out the busted window with a lifeless stare. He tosses the ball back, but his arm falls off, landing next to me. I pick up his arm. ¡°Got to be careful, Old Man Perry. Look alive.¡± I toss him his arm back. ¡°How can you be so, lively?¡± he says. His words cut me deep. I look at everyone around me, although they have everything to keep themselves happy, you can see the misery behind their smiles. ¡°Cause I¡¯m going to be alive again and see my parents,¡± I shout with glee. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The zombies look at me like I¡¯m crazy. They start laughing hysterically. ¡°Look, kid,¡± says the Old Man Perry. ¡°Cursed to live out our days as zombies is our life. Get used to it. I can¡¯t look my grandkids in the face, without turning to dust. I can only be out between the hours of 8 morning to 8 noon in the Land of the Living or else I turn to dust. The same is with all undead folk. So, suck it up, Ray. This is your new life. See us? We do what makes us happy.¡± I¡¯m ready to tell Old Man Perry a thing or two, but John gets in front of me. ¡°You know the kid has a big imagination,¡± John says to Old Man Perry. ¡°Besides, stop being all mopey. Smile. Think about the positive.¡± Old Man Perry scratches his chin. ¡°Ray¡¯s uncle does keep the riff-raff at bay, so that¡¯s somewhat comforting.¡± I look at John. ¡°Old Man Perry is a jerk.¡± ¡°Well, kid, as we know, sometimes misery can bring the worst in all of us,¡± John says. I smile. ¡°But unlike him, this place isn¡¯t going to beat me. I¡¯m going to be alive¡­.¡± ¡°¡­again and see my parents,¡± says an irritated voice. A tall, living elderly priest walks by in colorful black robes, with a look of disgust. His grey hair is neatly combed back. The wrinkles on his face are years of hard work and stress of being the priest to the town. ¡°Father O¡¯Riley,¡± I smile. He smiles back. ¡°That guy you and John dug up, we transported him to the main site. The people there are getting his papers ready, giving him the tour¡­ the usual.¡± As Father O¡¯Riley is talking, another bright light emerges nearby. A smile whips across my face. It¡¯s another portal to the living world. I sneak off to the crackling gate of energy where my parents are. I missed them so much. A column of blue flames emerges from the ground, blocking my way to the portal. ¡°Dang it!¡± I shout. ¡°I was going to get some video games,¡± I say to O¡¯Riley. He waves his hand and the fire disappears. ¡°Get a slip like everyone else.¡± ¡°I would, but I can¡¯t because you guys suck the fun out of everything,¡± I moan. O¡¯Riley grins. ¡°Or is it because you almost endanger your life on every occasion? Last week, I had to literally tackle you to the ground to prevent you from looking your parents in the eye. If you would¡¯ve died on my watch, I don¡¯t think your Uncle Elijah would be too happy about that.¡± O¡¯Riley stops, kneeling beside me, stretching his hand out. ¡°Look around, Ray.¡± I take in the zombies just going through normal life, just doing what makes them happy. I notice some are even smiling. But behind those smiles, are just sad people who miss their families---just like me. ¡°I know being a zombie is difficult. I¡¯m alive, so I can¡¯t relate to your pain, but I understand it at the same time. This is a second chance at life. This town has everything you want to make you happy. At least try to make the effort.¡± ¡°Everything, except my mother and father,¡± I finish. Living and dead men in gray uniforms sporting a mountain insignia on their collars, push me aside, interrupting O¡¯Riley¡¯s deep conversation. They¡¯re heavily armed with tanks on their backs and knives and guns inside their jackets. O¡¯Riley waves me away, telling me to go back home. I sneak to the back of a building where they can¡¯t see me at. The Regulatory Committee is here, which means ZAS is doing something big. The guys in uniforms are like our special security if things get crazy. ¡°Father O¡¯Riley,¡± a zombie blurts out. ¡°A living junior officer under my supervision has gone missing.¡± ¡°A lot of living people have been missing lately on the news,¡± another officer adds. O¡¯Riley glances into the distance, pinching his forehead in irritation. ¡°Apparently you people didn¡¯t make sure you weren¡¯t followed.¡± The men look into the distance, assuring O¡¯Riley there¡¯s nothing here. Something grasps my shoulder. It startles me. I turn around, picking up a nearby rock to protect myself. It¡¯s John. I take a sigh of relief and drop the stone. ¡°Don¡¯t scare me like that, John,¡± I said. ¡°Did you hear that? It¡¯s like on the news. People¡­living people have been going missing.¡± Recently, living people have been kidnapped in the living world, but not in high numbers. It¡¯s usually people no one really cares about or notices if they¡¯re gone. John gives a hearty laugh. ¡°See, kid, you get to see something interesting today. This place isn¡¯t as boring as you think.¡± ¡°What are you talking about, there¡¯s nothing here except miles of road¡­¡± The ground starts shaking violently like there¡¯s an earthquake. I scan the area, but there¡¯s nothing unusual in sight, except Old Man Perry stealing a potato from the lady¡¯s garden. I look up ahead again, frozen in fear. I blink a couple of times, hoping it¡¯s all in my head. It¡¯s not. Old Man Perry stares in the sky in horror, too. He kneels to the ground, saying a prayer. ¡°God doesn¡¯t answer the voices of the condemned,¡± says a loud, unearthly voice. Old Man Perry looks up again in terror, as his eyes meet the sockets of a giant, hulking skeleton in front of the city. It¡¯s dressed in skinny jeans and a black vest with a tattoo of a red sun on its skull. Old Man Perry takes off in the opposite direction, screaming. ¡°A gashadokuro!!!¡± This giant walking skeleton, a gashadokuro, is the worst kind of zombie. They¡¯re former walking corpses filled with so much hatred and sadness that they amass the bones of the dead to fill their sorrow. It immediately starts smashing buildings and taking living people, putting them into a metal cage inside its ribs. The earth trembles with every step the creature makes. Living and dead ZAS personnel charge the skeleton. They spray concentrated salt from powerful hoses connected to the tanks on their backs at the gashadokuro. The skeleton¡¯s rib ignites in a yellow-greenish fire. It tears out the burning rib and hurls it at the agents. If Uncle Elijah was here, he¡¯d take care of this. ¡°John, what should we do?¡± I ask, leaping behind a fruit stand for cover. He¡¯s gone, racing towards the gashadokuro. ¡°See, Ray, this place isn¡¯t so bad!¡± he shouts. There¡¯s a giant skeleton crushing buildings and kidnapping people. That¡¯s the definition of bad. There¡¯s never been an attack on Moss Town, well, since I¡¯ve been here. John told me there was only one attack within Moss Town¡¯s history, but nothing on this scale. Stuff like this never happens. Moss Town is usually a peaceful place. Sure, we break the rules, try to sneak out without permission---that sort of thing, but nothing terrible. This town is so peaceful that countries in Zombie World have Moss Town ranked number one for the perfect vacation spot. The only person capable of handling this is my uncle and O¡¯Riley. But O¡¯Riley is guiding the residents to safety, securing the people in the back of the city in a dome of protective fire. Old Man Perry navigates through the destruction of crumbling buildings and stray objects flying his way. A punctured salt tank is leaking salt, and heading towards him. Old Man Perry dives into the dome of fire, at the last second, but some salt lands on his arm. A small fire ignites on his arm, but he frantically slaps it until the fire dies out. A huge shadow covers me. I look up, realizing its debris knocked over by the gashadokuro. I hop over the fruit stand, only to fall face-flat. Memories of the parents flood my mind. All I wanted to do was see them again. Can¡¯t believe it ends like this. A strange mist pushes me out of the way. I know where that came from. Father O¡¯Riley snatches me from the ground, shocked to his core. He shakes me roughly. ¡°Are you insane? Get in the barrier.¡± I race in the direction of the barrier of fire, baseball sliding inside. My leg stings a bit from the friction of the ground. The skeleton makes a run for it. The entire town shakes with every step. ¡°I¡¯m getting promoted after this!¡± the gashadokuro says. As the skeleton¡¯s foot lands on the outside border, an eerie mist severs his leg. It¡¯s the same mist that saved me from the debris. ¡°AAAARRGHH! It burns!¡± The skeleton screams. That mist means one thing. I look up at a building and see a chocolate-skinned man. He¡¯s late. My Uncle Elijah with his impeccable good looks, which run in the genes, stares down the gashadokuro as its severed leg reassembles. As everyone realizes my uncle and O¡¯Riley are present, the residents in the city return to business as usual. The giant skeleton, who calls himself Tyler, stares at my uncle angrily. ¡°The Elijah Dean in the flesh,¡± Tyler says. ¡°I heard you were in charge of this district. ZAS is getting progressive, letting a meat sack, a living person, be the boss of a designated ZAS province. I was going to conduct some business and leave, but if I kill you---I¡¯ll go down in history as the man who put down a Dean.¡± I stare at the wall with torn posters of zombie outlaws, all with Xs across their faces because they faced my uncle. This Tyler guy has signed his death warrant. He doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s up against. Speaking of, an undead blonde-haired woman in a red dress appears behind me with a speakerphone. It¡¯s Amy Kitz, another regulatory member in charge of ensuring we know the rules. She shouts at the gashadakuro over the speakerphone. ¡°Mr. Tyler Gates! You have disrupted the peace of Moss Town, an Association-protected province, causing havoc in the living and dead world, and endangering the welfare of ZAS personnel! Turn yourself in, or leave this Town. If not¡­eh¡­you know the rest.¡± Gates cackles. ¡°What are you farm zombies and living trash gonna do to me, a lieutenant of the Red Dawn gang?¡± He should¡¯ve just given up and left. He slams his fist into a building, but blue flames consume his hand, shielding the building. It¡¯s from Father O¡¯Riley. He shoots another blast from his fingertip that destroys Tyler¡¯s arm in a giant, blue explosion. The skeleton¡¯s arm isn¡¯t growing back. The zombies and living people gather around, cheering on my uncle and O¡¯Riley. Meanwhile, John presses his feet against a nearby building, leaping from it. He soars through the air at supersonic speed, going straight through Tyler. The cage is gone, and a couple more ribs with it. John releases the people from the cage. The giant skeleton squints with fury. He launches his fist at my uncle. A blue aura radiates from Uncle Elijah. It¡¯s the life energy of the living. Living people can do all sorts of things with it, but many don¡¯t know how to tap into it. With a single swing from his sword, a giant blast of pressurized steam blasts the gashadokuro to bits, leaving a portion of legs intact. Amy draws an X over Tyler¡¯s ragged and grimy wanted poster. We exchange looks and she shrugs her shoulders. She did warn him. Immediately, the town cheers for my uncle. Some are shouting John¡¯s name, but those are mostly the people he dug up. So, that¡¯s over and it¡¯s half after nine. I have less time now. As Amy turns away for a second, I sneak for the portal to the living world. I smile as my parents¡¯ house is just a foot away. ¡°Nice try, but you¡¯re grounded for sneaking off last week,¡± says Uncle Elijah, stepping in front of me and looking disappointed. Dang, it! ¡°And help John dig up more people,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯ll teach you to be more appreciative of life.¡± ¡°Life?¡± I shout, stomping my foot. ¡°You call this living?¡± Amy positions herself between us before this gets worse. I hate this place. My stupid uncle will never understand because he¡¯s alive. We go to an apartment nearby. I head upstairs to our place and go into my room. Inside, papers are scattered everywhere. It¡¯s a mess of research I collected since I¡¯ve been dead. I pick up an article. It¡¯s about a zombie. He¡¯s wearing an open shirt and yellow pants, and cornrows covered by a bandanna. This is Jamal End. Next to his emaciated face is the Undead¡¯s Holy Grail, aka the Black Casket, my only chance at being alive again. This End guy found it during the Casket Run 10 years ago and became living again. Both living and dead have been searching since then for this casket. It has the power to resurrect the dead and the undead. However, it was stolen from End soon after he used it. But I¡¯m going to find it, and be alive again, so I can see my parents face-to-face. Someone drums on my door with a signature beat. It¡¯s Mai. She enters. She¡¯s the landlord and Uncle Elijah¡¯s girlfriend, although he¡¯s technically fraternizing on the job because he doesn¡¯t pay squat for the room. You couldn¡¯t tell Mai was a zombie from her milky skin. She looks just as she did when she was living until you touch her frigid, stiff hands. She pushes my head onto her shoulder. I know what this is. It¡¯s ¡°the talk.¡± ¡°Being dead isn¡¯t so bad,¡± Mai says. ¡°You can replace missing limbs. Easy. Produce fewer fatigue toxins, that¡¯s a plus¡­and¡­¡± she smiles, taking out her eye. She holds it out, as her pupil darts around the room. She pops it back in. I turn my face to the pillow. I¡¯m tired of the speech. I get a slight smile from her. Mai rubs my cheeks, brushing salt from my arm. ¡°But you¡¯re not like most zombies,¡± she says. She¡¯s right. I don¡¯t catch on fire. I¡¯m unique in that salt can¡¯t hurt me like the others. ¡°You¡¯re special like me,¡± she continues. She glances at the paper I¡¯m holding with the picture of the Black Casket. ¡°If you believe and work hard,¡± she says, moving towards the door, ¡°you¡¯ll see your parents again.¡± She closes the door behind her. I tape the paper to the wall, looking at the image of the Casket. I feel a burning desire. ¡°I¡¯m going to find it. The Black Casket,¡± I say. Death for Death Chapter 2 Naomi Whistler I can¡¯t keep my eyes open. It feels like Mrs. Dunn has been talking about zombies for an hour in literature class. They exist, but you wouldn¡¯t know if you saw one because they put on makeup to hide their ugly faces, or so the rumors say. I don¡¯t believe it. If that were true, maybe I wouldn¡¯t feel guilty. I look at the empty desk next to me. The folded paper serving as the name tag is crooked. I fix it and stand it upright. The name Dean is written on it. I wish I had been nicer to him. He¡¯s dead now. A truck hit him a year and a half ago. I remember all those teary faces at the funeral. Everyone was crying. His mom and dad were hurt the most. Even I couldn¡¯t stop crying. Mr. Dean wouldn¡¯t let go of Ray as his body was being buried. Mrs. Dean convinced him to let the body go after 15 strapping ushers couldn¡¯t rip him away from his son. I wish I could go back in time and change it. ¡°Sorry, Ray,¡± I whisper. A tear runs down my cheek. The bell rings. School¡¯s over. I head out, walking to the cemetery, where a nearby delivery man is checking the supplies in his truck. I can¡¯t believe it. Someone spray-painted graffiti and smiley faces over the gravestones in the corner. Ray¡¯s stone is around that side. Who would do something so mean? I take a rag from my backpack and wipe the paint off Ray¡¯s stone. Good as new. I put flowers and video games near the grave. It¡¯s strange, I know, but in a way, I want to think they go missing because he comes out of the grave and takes them, not because we¡¯ve got grave robbers. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for calling you stupid, weird, and saying mean things about your parents,¡± I say to the stone, starting to break down. ¡°I just wanted to fit in with everyone, and I¡­I¡­¡± I can¡¯t stop crying. I wipe my eyes, moaning his name. I miss him. I want him back. I want Ray. I jump back, startled, as a shadow hovers over me. It¡¯s my grandmother, big and black with her green skirt and white button-down blouse. ¡°I was coming back home, but I got¡­uh lost?¡± I say, shrugging my shoulders. ¡°I told you to come straight home! Children and grown folk are goin¡¯ missing for months! Are you crazy?¡± grandma asks. I hug her. She says that because she cares. Her scowl is replaced by a warm smile. ¡°I can¡¯t stay mad at my grandbaby,¡± she says. I see white flakes floating around. I¡¯m not sure what it is, but it seems familiar. I reach to touch it. ¡°Don¡¯t touch that!¡± shouts grandma. A strong wind blows, causing the white flakes to combust into flames. My ears ring from the explosion. For a moment, there¡¯s a muffled silence. The smoke disappears and my ears stop ringing. My grandmother is in front of me. Her arms are crossed and encased by a sturdy, boney material from the elbow up. As you can tell, my family isn¡¯t normal. We come from a long line of people who can use the power of the dead, or as scientists call it, necro-energy, the energy of the dead. The proper term is the Abiotic Channel, and we, Abiotic Channelers, can use that power for all sorts of things, like what grandma did when she jumped in front of the explosion for me. She saw my death before it happened, and calcified her arm. But we can do more than that. I wish I was as good as she is. She said she learned it from some guy named John or something a long, long time ago. Necro energy abilities differ from person to person, but there are three basic techniques. There¡¯s calcification, covering your body in bone. Then there are death eyes which allow a Channeler to sense and see imminent doom or harm. And finally, there¡¯s decay, which breaks any substance down on a molecular level. I¡¯m kinda good at that. The delivery man in the background races towards us. He sighs with relief. ¡°That¡¯s my bad. The shipment got loose. That Dancing Flower stuff is sensitive to the air.¡± I remember now. Those floating white granules are what rich people are using to put in all sorts of products. Dancing Flower in its pure form goes boom. The man winks at grandma. ¡°Fast reaction for an old lady, almost like you saw it coming.¡± I know what that means. He wishes he was as good with his powers as she is. Grandma and I take a 20-minute walk home. We go inside. Mom and dad are sleeping on the couch with the TV still on. I slip the remote from my dad¡¯s heavy arms. I¡¯m going to change it to cartoons, but someone snatches it away with a red towel. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Tyrese, give that back!¡± I shout. I can¡¯t stand that runt, my annoying baby brother. He ties the towel around his neck, flinging it across his shoulder like a cape. ¡°Tada! I¡¯m a necromancer! Lord of the dead, King of zombies!¡± I take the remote back. ¡°Not how our powers work, runt,¡± I say. He pulls my curls as I push his face, fighting for control of the TV. ¡°Give it back!¡± he says. Grandma¡¯s stare instills the fear of God in us. We stop fighting immediately without fuss, as her pupils turn purple. I lower my head, feeling down, as Tyrese calcifies his leg. Grandma lifts my chin. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll be a great Channeler. It takes time. I wasn¡¯t good until fifty.¡± We laugh together. She¡¯s such a liar. She¡¯s a genius Channeler. ¡°What? I can¡¯t wait that long,¡± I moan. Grandma just laughs. She bends over, groaning. ¡°My back! Not as young as I used to be. That explosion did a little more than I thought. Grandma¡¯s gonna rest a bit.¡± She gives me such a stare like she sees through my soul. I chuckle nervously. ¡°Naomi Jenna Whistler, you better not sneak off tonight or it¡¯s me and you,¡± she says. She heads upstairs complaining about her back, saying grown words I¡¯m not allowed to say. She closes the door behind her. Later, I realize she¡¯s been up there for over an hour. I need to practice my abilities until I drop. Even my annoying brother knows more than me. I tip-toe upstairs to grandma¡¯s room, she doesn¡¯t hear me. I slowly open her door. She¡¯s out cold. I head for the front door. A little practice wouldn¡¯t hurt. My brother is standing next to the front door with a curious look. ¡°You better not go out,¡± he says. ¡°Before they put your face on the back of a milk carton.¡± ¡°You better not snitch,¡± I bark back. ¡°Or else what?¡± he says. I fold my arms, forming a sly smile across my lips. ¡°I¡¯ll tell dad you¡¯ve been running up the bill watching all those violent action movies on demand,¡± I say. His eyes widen. He thought I didn¡¯t know. He steps away from the door. I leave, but not before he sticks his tongue out. I stick mine out back at him before he slams the door. I head downtown to the back alley. I stare into the bright, purple swirling energy in my palm. ¡°Ok. I can do this,¡± I say. I touch the bricks on the building. They break down, but it¡¯s taking forever. By the time they turn to rubble, I¡¯ll be an old lady. I practice for hours and hours, trying to break down the bricks even faster. It¡¯s not good enough. I wish Ray were here to laugh at me. He¡¯d always make people laugh, especially when he scared the life out of someone. And he loved zombie movies. I did, too. I remember one of the few times I was nice to him, we talked about zombie movies all day, but then my friends showed up. They thought zombie movies were lame. They never bothered to explain why. But I didn¡¯t want my friends to think I wasn¡¯t cool, so I pretended poor Ray didn¡¯t even exist, and I always kept my love of zombie films to myself. Such is the life of hanging with the cool girls. But at the end of the day, everyone is the same. I wished I¡¯d realized that before losing Ray. I flop down on a dingy cardboard box, thinking of the few times I was nice to Ray. I once walked home with him when the other kids avoided him like the plague. I don¡¯t know why, but it had something to do with his dad. No one in town liked him. Never knew why. Screams disrupt my happy thoughts. I leave the alley to see who it is. It¡¯s two men in biker jackets, shouting and pointing their narrow fingers at some old guy. He¡¯s a round, husky fellow, with red-tinted glasses, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and black khakis with sun designs on them. I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re saying, but the man with the glasses tells them to calm down, saying ¡°Gates¡± served his purpose. He has a wide smile on his face, as the men are about to pounce on him. I come to his rescue. ¡°Leave him alone,¡± I say. One of the guys has a suspicious look. ¡°This one will fetch a price,¡± he says. I should¡¯ve listened to grandma. These are the guys taking people. They were going to take this old man. The taller biker guy grabs me. I bite his hand and he lets me go. It¡¯s nasty. It tastes like old, spoiled eggs. The other guy in the vest reaches out. My arm radiates with a purple glow when he touches me. I¡¯m not good at it, so the decay should burn him a little. Instead, his arm comes off. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to do that,¡± I squeal. ¡°Sorry, sorry!¡± Worms and dust emerge from his severed arm. That¡¯s disgusting. I feel like hurling. He takes out a thread and needle and sews the arm back like nothing ever happened. The thread dissolves into his arm. His limb is as good as new. These guys are monsters. I¡¯m paralyzed, too scared to move. ¡°We¡¯ll get a lot for the Abiotic user,¡± the biker guy says, reaching out. The man in the shades pulls me back. The men try to punch the old guy, but he slips by them, tapping their shoulders. He¡¯s fast and nimble for his size. Shortly after, they float in the air like they¡¯re weightless. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say to the old guy in the shades. He looks at me, intrigued, rubbing his chin. ¡°Been a while since I¡¯ve seen a living person use necro energy,¡± he says. ¡°Dullahan would laugh if he saw this.¡± Who¡¯s Dullahan? He then says something about a guy named ¡°Cheonguk¡± or ¡°Trake¡± and money. He looks at me with a curious grin. ¡°You¡¯d fetch a great price, but Trake would find better uses for someone with your abilities.¡± I don¡¯t know who Trake or Cheonguk is, but I¡¯m not going to find out. I run as far as my legs can take me. I bump into something and fall to the ground. It feels fleshy. I look up. It¡¯s that guy with the glasses. But how did he get in front of me so fast? Decay envelops my hand in a black aura. I grab his hand, but it isn¡¯t breaking down. ¡°Decay isn¡¯t effective against a trained user like me,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re outclassed, kid.¡± His finger is imbued with green energy. He flicks me away with his finger. That stings! Wait, he¡¯s a Channeler, too? The color washes from his face like makeup, revealing his ashy skin, yellow teeth, and black tongue. He smells like rotting flesh. I look in terror, unable to comprehend what¡¯s before me. ¡°Name¡¯s Junior Robertson,¡± he says, adjusting his shades. I¡¯ve heard that name before. He was executed five years ago for his connections as a clean-up guy for gangsters. The cops couldn¡¯t get the Don, so they pinned the deaths on him. What that means¡­oh, no. This can¡¯t be the same Junior Robertson! There were several eyewitnesses during his execution. He gives me the most sinister smile I¡¯ve ever seen. ¡°Kid,¡± he says, ¡°You have the pleasure of being in the presence of the restless and condemned. Walking vestiges clinging to life, praying to find purpose in a world where none is found. Wandering till we find paradise, such is the existence of a zombie!¡± I Wish my Eyes were Lying Chapter 3 Ray After my talk with Mai yesterday, I wonder if I should just accept being undead. It¡¯s not like I change it with a snap of my fingers. I clench my chest as images of my mom and dad, Rob and Kadisha Dean, overwhelm me. I remember we built a treehouse together. Dad kept hitting his hand with the hammer because he kept getting distracted talking to me and mom. He gets easily distracted. I don¡¯t know what mom saw in him. I miss those times. I can¡¯t give up. I have to see my parents again. ¡°I¡¯m going to be alive again!¡± I shout. I realize where I am. Zombies are lined up, waiting for tickets to go to the living world. There are hundreds of others in their seats, waiting for their number to be called. I¡¯m in Wake Park, well, at the outer gate. It¡¯s where the top officials of ZAS, zombie and living, meet. My uncle is on a meeting with ZAS¡¯s higher branch about the recent kidnappings. I¡¯m just here so my uncle can keep an eye on me. My life sucks. If that¡¯s not bad enough, all the zombies laugh and ridicule me because of my recent admission of wanting to be alive again. The one next to me doesn¡¯t laugh. He gives me a pitiful stare. ¡°You got folks at home?¡± he asks. ¡°Yeah, we all do,¡± I say, depressingly. He taps my shoulder, pointing at the undead receptionist giving out slips. She¡¯s laughing the hardest. ¡°I got a wife and kid back home,¡± he laughs. ¡°I sneak out every night to see them. I fool these clowns with a fake slip. Gets em¡¯ every time.¡± I can¡¯t stop laughing at his story. Suddenly, he lowers his head, moaning. ¡°But I can¡¯t look my boy in his eye. That¡¯s the rough part,¡± he continues. I get up, shooting my fist in the air. ¡°When I find the Casket, I¡¯ll bring you back, too, so you can see your son again.¡± Everyone gives me a skeptical glare, except the man I¡¯ve been talking to; he just smiles. Some of the zombies call me stupid, telling me to accept this new life. Amy comes in, dragging me to the side like an embarrassed parent. ¡°What are we gonna do with you?¡± she laughs nervously. She takes me to the office where she hands me some ice cream. They seem busy today. There are a lot of faculty members stamping papers. ¡°You¡¯re dead. Accept it,¡± says an irritating voice. ¡°Stuck between life and death ¨C a wandering soul yearning for purpose. Stop your whining, kid. It¡¯s annoying. You¡¯ve been here over a year.¡± Chris Ming. He¡¯s as cold as ever. A somewhat round Chinese priest with a blue scarf, trench coat, and tan slacks. He exudes a purple aura that makes the building quake. The staff trembles at his power. It stops a few minutes later. Showoff. Amy stares him down. ¡°That¡¯s cruel.¡± Chris takes a pipe and sticks it in his mouth, lighting it with a match. ¡°Yes, but Ray has to face reality. Sure, the undead only have 12 hours of the day between 8 am to 8 pm in the Living World. But he can use that time to find a hobby, make some undead friends¡­people other than John.¡± Amy pitches a glass of water in his face. He turns around, calm, walking off. ¡°You can¡¯t baby him forever. He has to grow up,¡± he says. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I hate this guy. If he wasn¡¯t the leader of the 9th branch, I¡¯d give him a taste of my fist. Amy takes me to another room. A man with frosty blue skin and a receding hairline is stamping out a slip with the ZAS¡¯s logo. It¡¯s Val. He¡¯s part of the regulatory committee. He tells the zombie in front of him that my uncle has to approve of it first since he¡¯s from his district. ¡°Be back by 8 pm,¡± he says. ¡°Why?¡± the zombie asks. Val turns on the TV. It¡¯s just a compilation of clips of zombies staying out late. One clip shows a guy dancing with the living. It hits eight pm and he¡¯s a pile of ash. The partygoers are at a loss for words while the priest sweeps up the man¡¯s remains. A treasure chest, filled to the brim with gold coins and jewelry, sits next to Val. As he turns his attention to Amy, I grab a handful of gold coins. He snatches them away as his eyes glow red, almost possessed. ¡°Leave my treasure.¡± Val¡¯s unearthly voice sends shivers down my spine. He returns to normal, a bit embarrassed about what he¡¯s done. ¡°Got me again, Rig.¡± ¡°How hard is it to say Ray?¡± I said, pulling my afro. Val¡¯s a Dragur. Unlike me, and most other zombies, Val is a supernatural class zombie. In other words, magic or the occult allowed him to come back instead of the natural way of emerging from the dirt like most zombies. Lucky for him, the rules that affect us don¡¯t really apply to him. Well, most of them, anyway. Val points at a seat. I sit down as he questions me for an hour about why I hate being dead for the thousandth time. He gives up, seeing I¡¯m not buying it. He sighs, pinching his forehead. ¡°Look, Ray,¡± he says. ¡°I know you¡¯re still getting used to this, trust me, I was the same way. Worse.¡± I can¡¯t imagine that since Val is a pretty cool guy, as long you don¡¯t touch his treasure chest. ¡°I¡¯m going to find the Casket, see my parents, and say goodbye to this place,¡± I say smiling. ¡°Like your enthusiasm, but that¡¯s not an option,¡± he says. I pull a paper from my shirt. It¡¯s a picture of Jamal standing next to the Casket. ¡°It¡¯s not like it¡¯s impossible, so why do we give up?¡± I ask. Amy signals for me to follow her. Val joins me as we all go to her office. It¡¯s filled with all sorts of objects; swords, guns, and posters of infamous zombies and living people during the Casket Run. I see undead and living adventurers like Tony Passion, Jamal End, and the two-horned gashadokuro, Clark Ashura to name a few. Even Val¡¯s up there? He was part of the Casket Run? He even has his own ZAS wanted poster! ¡°That¡¯s so awesome,¡± I say, looking at him like he¡¯s the pinnacle of cool. ¡°He was on our radar for all sorts of crimes,¡± Amy says, smiling. Val clears his throat. ¡°Who I was isn¡¯t important. I did things, not very nice things before I changed.¡± So Val went from one of ZAS¡¯s most wanted to a pencil-pushing drone. That¡¯s a letdown. Amy slides her finger across photos and articles. ¡°All of these people, including Val, tried to become living again. They traveled the world looking for the Casket. Many of them, living and dead are immortalized in the room as well as all over Zombie World and the land of the living.¡± ¡°But what happened?¡± I asked. Amy and Val sigh. Val looks distraught. ¡°Their hopes and dreams were crushed,¡± Amy says. ¡°They weren¡¯t the only ones looking for it. As fights broke out, rival factions, groups, organizations took each other out. It was total chaos. Before long, only a few made it out unscathed. Others still ride from the infamy 10 years ago, while guys like Val tell old tales to relive their glory days.¡± Val gives an upset look as the skies turn black from his presence. ¡°Well, thanks for that wonderful description, Amy,¡± he says sarcastically. Amy pats my head gently, hoping it sunk in. ¡°Ray, stick with the program,¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯ll be safer here. Trust me, I know how you feel. I got family too, but there¡¯s a lot to offer here. You¡¯ve just got to look around.¡± If Val couldn¡¯t get the Casket, what chance do I have? I leave, heading to the sandy shore. The ocean is crystal clear; the sky is as blue as ever. Even the plants look greener and livelier than they ever have. It¡¯s just a distraction from the one fact: I won¡¯t ever have a normal life again. There¡¯s still the curfew, rotting flesh, and the fact that I can¡¯t look mom and dad in the eye again. I look up into the sky with malice, shaking my fist. ¡°I hate this place!¡± I shout, hoping someone can hear me. I haven¡¯t been this broken since I was killed. My last thoughts as the driver came to see me were I don¡¯t want to die. Mom. Dad. Save me. I was scared. I didn¡¯t know if heaven or the bad place existed, all I knew was that I didn¡¯t want to die. I remember Uncle Elijah told me I could never see them again. I cried for months. Why do these rules exist? They¡¯re stupid. The only good thing is my immunity to salt. I think I know why, but¡­wait. Am I seeing things? I take out my binoculars to be sure. It¡¯s a zombie. He¡¯s round, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, sandals, and shorts. He¡¯s holding someone by a string and it looks like they¡¯re floating. It¡¯s Naomi! Monster of the Old Generation Chapter 4 Naomi I¡¯ve been floating for hours. Who does this Junior guy think he is? He¡¯s been whistling the same tune forever. I swim through the air, trying to get away. I can¡¯t. I¡¯m weightless. ¡°Let me go, tubby!¡± I say, swinging my hands aimlessly in the air. He thinks it¡¯s adorable and laughs. Out of the corner of my eye, it¡¯s¡­no¡­ I¡¯d know that afro anywhere. I look again. No one¡¯s there. It must be my guilt. There¡¯s no way Ray would be in a place like this, whatever ¡°this¡± is. It looks like Earth, except I see two suns instead of one. There¡¯s a man with his back facing us. Another regular person? ¡°Please, help me! Please!¡± I shout. He quickly turns around. He¡¯s a zombie, too! ¡°What are you doing with the kid?¡± he asks Junior. Junior ignores him and keeps walking. Oh no, this guy is going to eat me. He takes me from Junior. I hit him in his head, over and over again. ¡°Get off me! You¡¯re not gonna have my brain!¡± I scream. The zombie shakes me a bit. ¡°What?¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m trying to save you, or I would be if you¡¯d stop beating my skull.¡± I don¡¯t believe him; I keep punching. He takes me to a nearby building where a priest lies on the door. Father O¡¯Riley? Why is the local priest here? I notice they both have a mountain symbol on their clothes. Other people with the same mark come out, surrounding Junior. ¡°Take her inside,¡± says the zombie to Father O¡¯Riley. Father O¡¯Riley takes me inside. I ask him a million questions about what¡¯s going on. ¡°Just follow me,¡± he says, dragging me inside. The people outside are telling Junior to stand down. He takes off his shades, revealing his piercing yellow eyes. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I had some fun,¡± he says. Humans and zombies carrying huge tanks on their backs pepper Junior with salt. He moves like a gymnast ninja, flipping and sliding around. He¡¯s so agile they can¡¯t touch him. He dances around them, touching everyone in his path. One by one, they float into the sky, going higher and higher until they disappear. We look back and he¡¯s gone. Me and O¡¯Riley look at the window, wondering where he went. I feel the ground shaking. The building is getting further from the ground. ¡°We¡¯re floating!¡± I exclaim. I peer at the window. Suddenly, I jump into O¡¯Riley¡¯s arms, screaming. Junior¡¯s dried, rotting face is pressed against the window, sporting a wicked smile. Father O¡¯Riley leaps through the window, taking me with him. But we¡¯re not floating; the buildings are slowly descending. This is Junior¡¯s fault. I should¡¯ve listened to grandma. I should¡¯ve stayed home. Father O¡¯Riley¡¯s foot lands on the side of the building, but he loses his balance and slips. He quickly recovers, running up the building as it falls. He makes it to the top, leaping from building to building before they drop from the sky. More buildings ascend upward, blocking our path. Father O¡¯Riley continues skipping across the structures. The structures falling under our feet crush the remaining uniformed men below. Those poor people. Before I can cry, Father O¡¯Riley dives into a smaller building that¡¯s still floating. He surrounds the perimeter in blue fire. I shake him by his black robes. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Why are there zombies? And what do they want with me?¡± I¡¯m talking so fast, he can¡¯t keep up. He signals for me to zip it. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°First, you¡¯re in Zombie World,¡± he says. ¡°What? You mean zombies are gonna eat our brains? I love my brain!¡± I exclaim. ¡°No, zombies don¡¯t eat brains,¡± O¡¯Riley says, pinching the bridge of his nose, slightly annoyed by my statement. ¡°They eat regular food like you and me. Well, most do anyway. Second, I think you¡¯re being targeted by a human trafficking ring.¡± On impulse, O¡¯Riley takes me and leaps to the other side of the room. Junior is standing where we once were. ¡°I¡¯m disappointed, priest,¡± Junior chuckles. ¡°You guys aren¡¯t at your best like you were ten years ago.¡± The priest looks at Junior in horror. ¡°Then that means¡­¡± Junior smiles. ¡°But I don¡¯t work for Crom Dubh no more. Now, give me the girl and I¡¯ll be on my way.¡± He appears in front of O¡¯Riley in a flash. Junior swings his heavy hands, while O¡¯Riley swings his scarf like a whip, parrying Junior¡¯s blows like a martial arts master. They¡¯re evenly matched. Junior slides under his legs and then grabs me by my shirt. Father O¡¯Riley ignites his hand on fire, ready to deliver a death blow. Junior puts me in the way of the attack. Father O¡¯Riley stops, looking into my fearful eyes. ¡°Smart priest,¡± Junior says, walking off with me. Purple energy envelops my hand. I grab Junior¡¯s arm. Irritated, Junior palms my face, lifting me from the floor. ¡°That¡¯s getting annoying, kid.¡± Before he makes it to the door, a cold breeze passes through the room. Junior and I look in shock as the arm he was holding me with is missing. I¡¯m back on the floor. I look up and¡­it can¡¯t be. ¡°Ray,¡± I say in awe. ¡°Impressive reflexes, kid,¡± Junior says to Ray, who¡¯s holding his arm. ¡°But can I have my arm back?¡± Ray steps on it, pouring salt on it. The arm ignites in yellowish-greenish flames before turning to ash. I¡¯m glad he saved me, but why is he ashy with a grayish tone? Oh no. He¡¯s a zombie, too? ¡°Stand back,¡± Ray says. He looks at Junior, almost possessed and with a stare of death. A violent mist engulfs him, like a raging sea, spreading to Junior. The round corpse howls in agony as a mixture of steam and green aura leave his body. Junior falls to his knees. Ray turns to me, slightly irritated. ¡°Why are you here, meanie?¡± ¡°I was kidnapped,¡± I say. ¡°But a better question is why are you grey and smell like rotting fish?¡± I ask. Ray folds his arms. ¡°Still that same bully. I should¡¯ve let em¡¯ take you.¡± I can¡¯t blame him. He has every right to feel that way. I wasn¡¯t nice to him. I notice a watch on his arm. It¡¯s the same one I dropped at his gravestone. At least he took my presents. Father O¡¯Riley groans in pain, holding his right arm, then his knee. ¡°Are you okay, O¡¯Riley?¡± Ray asks, approaching him. ¡°My arthritis in my hand and leg is acting up,¡± he says. ¡°Not as young as I used to be.¡± Father O¡¯Riley and I are in shock as Junior is still standing. His skin is slightly singed like he¡¯s been branded with an iron. ¡°Cleansing Mist? How can a zombie do that?¡± Junior asks with a puzzled expression. ¡°You can¡¯t use life energy. You¡¯re dead.¡± ¡°Take her and run,¡± O¡¯Riley commands Ray. But Ray stands there, giving Junior the same menacing look as before. ¡°Where did you hear that name?¡± he asks. ¡°What name?¡± Junior says. He remembers, saying, ¡°Oh, I haven¡¯t seen the Dullahan in years. What¡¯s he to you?¡± Junior brushes past Ray, tapping him on the shoulder. Ray floats in the air, still demanding Junior tell him about Crom Dubh. ¡°Who is Crom Dubh? Who is he?¡± Junior ignores him, returning to me. I throw the grains of salt Ray had in Junior¡¯s face. The grains combust into yellow and green fire as he screams in pain, trying to put it out. Ray falls to the ground. Junior¡¯s powers are wearing off. Father O¡¯Riley, who¡¯s groaning in agony, takes his scarf and wraps it around Ray¡¯s leg, pulling him to us. ¡°There¡¯s a cellar upstairs full of concentrated salt! Go now!¡± The couch and steel tables start floating and so do we. I float further away from the group and closer to Junior, who¡¯s fuming mad. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough games,¡± he growls. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me to Festive Moon, and¡­¡± A sword pierces his body. He crushes it with his bare hands. The fragments of metal are covered in salt. He looks up smiling. ¡°Well, such is life.¡± The building slowly descends back to the ground. As Junior slumps against the wall, Ray¡¯s uncle is behind him, holding the hilt of the sword. He took down Junior. Junior, wheezing heavily, gives a sickly grin, revealing his yellow teeth. He stares at Ray. ¡°A zombie possessing life energy? How ironic.¡± Ray runs to his uncle, hugging him, while Father O¡¯Riley gets to his feet. O¡¯Riley gives a faint smile at the pair. The smile disappears as he walks over to Junior and kicks him in his face. Junior just smiles. He looks at Ray again. ¡°I know that look, kid. The look of longing, wanting to fill the emptiness.¡± Ray approaches him. Elijah follows behind. ¡°Yeah, I want to change that,¡± Ray says. Junior gives Ray his shades. ¡°Well, you¡¯re not all that dead. And if you¡¯re looking for what I think you¡¯re looking for¡­the Black Casket¡­it¡¯s here in Zombie World.¡± Ray¡¯s eyes are filled with wonder and hope. ¡°Really, where is it? You have to tell me!¡± Elijah pulls him away. He puts silver cuffs over Junior¡¯s arms that emit a bright green light. ¡°I used a lower dose of salt, so you¡¯ll live. The authorities and ZAS have questions about the recent increase in kidnappings,¡± Elijah tells Junior. Junior laughs, as he breaks from the restraints. ¡°Good luck to ya.¡± He grabs the broken blade sticking out his body. ¡°There¡¯s still more to life,¡± Elijah pleads. Junior pushes the blade in further. He smiles, almost relieved as he fades into dust. ¡°That¡¯s a lie. I¡¯ve never been happy dead,¡± Junior says. ¡°I wasn¡¯t able to see my son¡¯s blue eyes after my execution. I wish I could see him one last time.¡± Then he¡¯s gone.