> "You were never our friend. You used us. You’re no different from the damned Iteri. But if I had not destroyed them, then maybe we wouldn't be here today."
>
> – Letters of Admission, Letter 3
William walked through the abandoned halls alone. Looking out the passing windows, he could see the homeless undead walking towards the theater on the far side of campus. “No doubt they’ll be asking me questions,” he thought. On the ground floor, he kicked the trash, scattering cardboard and a tin cup of old pens. “What a waste.” He turned and left “the tower” as he likes to call it. Then, turning back, eyes to the floor he left her at, “she’ll be safe here,” he muttered to himself, “she’ll be safe. It’ll be okay.”
Nearing the theater, the crowd amassed outside the theater slowly drags itself in like a coiling snake. As soon as William enters the building, the snake strikes, not at him but at itself. The crowd before him had broken off into smaller groups, all of them bickering, stressed, anxious. The dim light casting an ominous glow across the bodies of all in attendance.
“We need to find him,” says one person.
“No, we need to kill him,” says another person, from another group.
Another person chimes in, “no, we need him alive, then the church can revive us. Then we’ll be okay.” This alone starts new arguments about the church reviving people being a myth at best, and a lie at the truth.
William blocked out what he could.
He made his way to the stage proper, and sat upon the edge. The red curtains stood tall like sentries of blood and ash, guarding nothing of value, nothing of importance in this ruined building. “That’s right, nothing important. When this is done, I’ll be dead all the same. It won’t matter.” William continued his line of thought.
His urgency to die, to be rid of himself a moment sooner bubbled under the surface. He stared at the floor while he played with his hands. His unkempt hair shielding his eyes while his mind struggled to rid the sounds from his ears.
The entire group, more than fifty continued to argue with one another. Some wrapped layers of cloth and clothes about their bodies. Some kept their faces exposed, hiding what shouldn’t be seen. Out of them all, the only shared truth was their undeath, and their desire to live again.
“So much struggle for so little,” he thought, eyes transfixed to the floor. “Why bring so many people back? Why make so much? Why….no, don’t ask questions. Questions lead to thinking, and thinking leads to problems. Don’t think. Don’t care. Don’t worry. Do what you can, then be done and die.”
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“Hello everyone!”
Erasmus’ calming voice echoed throughout the hall, bringing William out of his thoughts, turning his focus to the crowd once more. The man was tall, dressed in a faded black coat, black dress pants, and white button-up shirt. His beard brought the ensemble together, creating the illusion of a distinguished, living, gentleman.
“Now, now, everyone,” he began. “I know it seems as though the man doesn’t exist, that our dreams are only dreams, but we are evidence of his existence, are we not? Not to mention the moon being as it is, that alone implies his being within our realm. Do we have anything to report?”
The groups went one by one. Each spoke either plainly, or through bandaged faces wrapped in cloth, as if they were ready for winter. Each person and group explained where they had been, what they had seen, and what they could note. Again, just like the last few meetings, no one had found a trace of the Necromancer. They would’ve assumed he wasn’t returned, if not for their bodies being in the state of decay they all found themselves in.
Once each group had finished speaking, Erasmus’ on the stage behind William continued to speak. “No matter, everyone. These are minor setbacks, problems of yesterday. Today and tomorrow, we will have our justice.”
Erasmus raised his hands before him as if conducting a choir. “As we lived, we acted under His guidance. We lived day by day in His light. Now that we are forced to take to the night, we must be ever brighter against Her darkness. She would have us die. She would grant the Necromancer power to curse us, because She hates us. But we know, He loves us, and wishes for us to return to His days. Let us not dwell on failure, but see these moments as a time of learning, a time of growth. Each day we arrive at a new destination, a new place to look for the scourge of the night. We will find him. We will have our justice.”
The group, while not completely without their fears and worries, appeared in better spirits, almost hopeful.
“Almost hopeful, almost better, almost…. I’m so tired. Let it end.”
The others left, filing out of the double doors, ready to sleep for the coming day. “So, I saw you bring in that girl,” Erasmus said, pacing the empty stage before the cavernous theater. “Is she another one?”
William waited, then put his hand through his hair. “Yeah, another undead. Told her to stay away from the others for a bit, until she gets comfortable, anyway.”
“Good,” Erasmus replies, “wouldn’t want her running around at night scaring people.”
“Yeah, she’s a weird girl. She wants to find the Necromancer, too.”
Erasmus took a seat next to William and adjusted his coat sleeves. “Just the same as us, she’ll fit right in.”
“No,” William began. “She wants to follow him, join him or something. She wants to be undead, Erasmus. I don’t know what happened to that girl to make her want this…”
Erasmus paused, then asked, “she’s not part of that cult is she?”
“Oh no, no. She doesn’t have any jewelry, or any marking, or anything. I think she’s just not right in the head. She even thinks she remembers what the Necromancer looks like, but I doubt it.”
Erasmus claps his hands, stands up before the stage, and smiles at his friend. “But what if she does remember? What if he made a mistake? He was human at one point, Will; and that means he might make a mistake.”
“Then we know exactly what the Necromancer looks like,” William gave a weak smile.
“Exactly! No more chasing robes in the dark. We can look for faces, narrow it down further! Why didn’t you say anything?”
William shakes his head, then smiles, “she’s just a kid, can’t be more than 20 and I didn’t want the others swarming her. I don’t even know if her information is good. I don’t want to get everyone's hopes up.”
Erasmus paced before the stage, hand to his head, and tilted his head side to side. “True,” he begins.
“I did tell her I’d help her.”
“Good,” Erasmus said. “Can I meet her tomorrow night? Maybe ask her what she remembers and take it from there? If I find anything, then we can say I found it, we keep the others off her, and if nothing happens, then nothing happens. Sounds alright, Will?”
“Sure, just play along with her, don’t want her running off.”