Read Online Cassie (Adrian's Undead Diary Book 8) by Chris Philbrook - Free Book Online
Authors: Chris Philbrook
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burial rights and ceremonies in Africa on June 22 nd .
She was taken to a small gathering deep in... the Congo I think she said, and there she and her associate saw a burial ceremony go awry. I guess midway through the process the temperature drops like a rock, and the smell of blood coppery pervades the space. Then some creepy ass voice tells her that it, “All starts here,” and that humanity with be, “Judged,” and that she will, “Bear witness.”
Some old guy dies (I guess he was probably already dead huh? Hence the need for the funeral), and stands back up. You can guess where it goes from there. No undead attacked her in the jungle apparently. She fled, her partner dude died shortly therafter, and she started to walk/run away. She was eventually escorted by a small dead kid that kept her out of trouble all the way to Morocco, where she met Kevin and his group. She said his name was Oudry. Apparently, he was able to tell her that.
She had dreams of The White Room, as did Kevin and I. Of course for whatever reason, her dreams were far more informative. She spoke to her father, and even heard voices that apparently were the voice of the… Creator? God? Ronald McDonald?
Who fucking knows.
Exceptionally long story short, she goes on and on, and finally says that she believes that humanity lives or dies based on me. Perhaps not me and me alone, but maybe a decision I make. Maybe whether or not I survive, or if I become a better person myself. I am the tipping point. The fulcrum, as it were.
She thinks that because I am no one special, and that I am the generic male, with no specific religious beliefs, or political leanings, I am the perfect person to base this on. If I succumb to evil, and remain a shithead, or get killed, thus preventing me from passing whatever test it is that's out there waiting for me, then humanity will be judged as having failed, and we’re all fucked, and we get pushed down the cosmic drain by an awfully big fucking toe. Kevin is here to make sure I don’t get killed while I figure my shit out, and Michelle, as the “Savior” is here to give me guidance, and be there for me. Whatever that means.
Keep in mind Mr. Journal, this conversation reached the five hour length, and only just recently finished. So clearly, I am paraphrasing here.
I don’t know quite what to make of this. I also didn't know that I knew what paraphrasing meant. I kind of knew this was all coming, but to be honest, none of us really know what to do about it. Understandably, Kevin wants action. He wants to go out, find and enlist more fighters, and start a fucking full on, full fledged war against the undead. Kevin is one of those 'find him a problem' kind of people. He understands the idiocy of this, but also believes part of our making it through this is not giving up, and bringing the dead to a full state of rest. He thinks active effort is better than being passive.
Michelle thinks we are already in the end game. She thinks we are winning this game or battle simply because we are surviving, and starting a new, hopefully better world. She thinks a big part of the Trinity’s purpose was to unite, and persevere through adversity, and prove that humanity deserves a second chance. We are an example of what can be. We are hope, personified.
If that’s the case… why are the dead calling her the Savior? And why, why oh why am I the Soul? What the hell does that mean?
At the end of the discussion we’d reached a cordial stalemate. None of us fully agreed with the others, not out of argument, but out of confusion. We had no idea who was right or wrong. Frankly, all of us felt that each of us was a little right. I think that’s part of this. It’s kind of like having faith. If you had proof, your faith wouldn’t be faith, it’d simply be knowledge.
Sometimes you just need to feel what you’re doing is right for it to matter.
Sigh.
Winter is upon us, and we have many domestic issues to contend with. Food
She was taken to a small gathering deep in... the Congo I think she said, and there she and her associate saw a burial ceremony go awry. I guess midway through the process the temperature drops like a rock, and the smell of blood coppery pervades the space. Then some creepy ass voice tells her that it, “All starts here,” and that humanity with be, “Judged,” and that she will, “Bear witness.”
Some old guy dies (I guess he was probably already dead huh? Hence the need for the funeral), and stands back up. You can guess where it goes from there. No undead attacked her in the jungle apparently. She fled, her partner dude died shortly therafter, and she started to walk/run away. She was eventually escorted by a small dead kid that kept her out of trouble all the way to Morocco, where she met Kevin and his group. She said his name was Oudry. Apparently, he was able to tell her that.
She had dreams of The White Room, as did Kevin and I. Of course for whatever reason, her dreams were far more informative. She spoke to her father, and even heard voices that apparently were the voice of the… Creator? God? Ronald McDonald?
Who fucking knows.
Exceptionally long story short, she goes on and on, and finally says that she believes that humanity lives or dies based on me. Perhaps not me and me alone, but maybe a decision I make. Maybe whether or not I survive, or if I become a better person myself. I am the tipping point. The fulcrum, as it were.
She thinks that because I am no one special, and that I am the generic male, with no specific religious beliefs, or political leanings, I am the perfect person to base this on. If I succumb to evil, and remain a shithead, or get killed, thus preventing me from passing whatever test it is that's out there waiting for me, then humanity will be judged as having failed, and we’re all fucked, and we get pushed down the cosmic drain by an awfully big fucking toe. Kevin is here to make sure I don’t get killed while I figure my shit out, and Michelle, as the “Savior” is here to give me guidance, and be there for me. Whatever that means.
Keep in mind Mr. Journal, this conversation reached the five hour length, and only just recently finished. So clearly, I am paraphrasing here.
I don’t know quite what to make of this. I also didn't know that I knew what paraphrasing meant. I kind of knew this was all coming, but to be honest, none of us really know what to do about it. Understandably, Kevin wants action. He wants to go out, find and enlist more fighters, and start a fucking full on, full fledged war against the undead. Kevin is one of those 'find him a problem' kind of people. He understands the idiocy of this, but also believes part of our making it through this is not giving up, and bringing the dead to a full state of rest. He thinks active effort is better than being passive.
Michelle thinks we are already in the end game. She thinks we are winning this game or battle simply because we are surviving, and starting a new, hopefully better world. She thinks a big part of the Trinity’s purpose was to unite, and persevere through adversity, and prove that humanity deserves a second chance. We are an example of what can be. We are hope, personified.
If that’s the case… why are the dead calling her the Savior? And why, why oh why am I the Soul? What the hell does that mean?
At the end of the discussion we’d reached a cordial stalemate. None of us fully agreed with the others, not out of argument, but out of confusion. We had no idea who was right or wrong. Frankly, all of us felt that each of us was a little right. I think that’s part of this. It’s kind of like having faith. If you had proof, your faith wouldn’t be faith, it’d simply be knowledge.
Sometimes you just need to feel what you’re doing is right for it to matter.
Sigh.
Winter is upon us, and we have many domestic issues to contend with. Food
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