After a long day of preparations, Midday finally considered himself ready for the announcement—and in the nick of time too, for the day had flown away as he had scrambled to do everything he could. There were now less than twenty minutes before the announcement.
He wore a makeshift belt around his waist, which he had fashioned out of some rope he had found near the plaza a few hours before and, on this belt, there were a few items: a crude stone hatchet he had prepared for himself as both a weapon and a tool, a pouch filled Devil Peppercorn beads along with some iron nails he had stolen from the cabins in the area, and a bottle of whiskey he had found in the wreckage of a house that hadn’t withstood the flooding. All in all, he felt that he had done a reasonably good job preparing for the old growth, and he was anxiously awaiting the announcement as he sat on his raft, which he had already expanded to the point where he could sit without worrying about anything slipping.
“Ready?” Romulo, who had somehow managed to build himself a makeshift canoe already, had a severe look on his face as he looked at Midday and Gork—both of which were floating beside him. “We should start heading over now.”
“Looks like it’s that time,” said Midday who, despite the aid of his ring, was thoroughly drenched and therefore miserable. He had begun to shiver quite some time ago by then and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Midday looked into the wall of fog that seemed to drown out the world and sighed. He had his whiskey, which he hoped would help him start a fire, but several hours would pass before he would get the chance. Without further ado, he started paddling with his wrinkly and somewhat numbed hands.
Gork, who arguably had the most luxurious boat because of the crude, tentlike roof he had built for it, looked down at their house, which was now wholly unsalvageable, and said farewell to the cabin before starting with his paddling. “I wonder how far Glauster has gotten by now.”
“Who knows?” Romulo shrugged. “He’s not the type to die easily, so I’d imagine he’s at least halfway there by now.” The giant had a wooden oar for paddling, which made his canoe easily several times faster than the other boats.
As their journey to the plaza began, the trio passed several people who had, for a litany of reasons, been unable to make boats and thus had to either swim to the plaza or try their luck jumping between rooftops. There were also a few groups of what Midday assumed to be friends who had banded together to build rafts large enough for half a dozen people to better survive the flood—which they, of course, had no idea how long would last—and looked pretty prepared for the tribulations ahead. More likely than not, he thought, one of the other bearers of the raincoat ring had leaked information about the upcoming disaster and people had been preparing accordingly.
In any case, the journey to the plaza proceeded without issue.
The first thing Midday noticed upon arrival to the plaza was the absurdly high number of rafts in the area. He could not see all of them due to the fog but, based on the sounds he was hearing, there had to be at least a hundred in the general area. It amazed him that so many people had been resourceful enough to churn out a boat in such a short period—though most people were still either swimming or standing on the rooftops that surrounded the plaza.
After a few minutes of floating idly while they waited for the announcement to begin, a bell rang and, with that, all the fog in the plaza was gone—which revealed the utterly gigantic airship floating a few hundred feet above the plaza. The thing easily dwarfed anything Midday had ever seen before, and the sheer scale of the thing was unsettling. It was massive to the point where it acted as an umbrella, shielding hundreds of people from the rain and causing waterfalls to form on its along its edges. At once, Midday was left with the impression that whoever owned such a vessel, which was painted a light blue color that seemed to match the sky perfectly, must be a regal individual indeed.
“Good evening, people of Neighborhood 8.” A monotonous voice resounded throughout the area with impossible volume. Everyone turned to look up and see who was speaking, only to find a grotesque excuse for a man slowly floating down toward the crowd. He had an oversized purple balloon in one hand and a briefcase in the other. “I am Siempre Elvanera.”
Midday winced. Siempre had a stiff, upright posture that accentuated the fact that his torso was about twice as long as it should have been. His jet-black hair was combed back and held in place with a shiny gel that gave the man an air of formality further enhanced by the well-tailored and pristine lab coat he wore.
Siempre started floating downward toward the crowd. The crowd watched in silence as he drew nearer and then nearer still. Everyone could tell upon glancing into his long-since-dead eyes that the man was dangerous.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
Already on the ground were two individuals: Mulberry and some sort of tall skeleton-looking thing. Both stood atop the surface of the water as though it were solid ground and, once Siempre started getting closer to them, they bowed down and did not lift their heads until Siempre landed atop the water. Siempre then nodded to Mulberry. She nodded back and raised both arms overhead.
Over the span of the next few seconds, all the water in the area disappeared. The clouds parted too and, by the time it was done, Mulberry had created a dry and vibrantly sunny plaza—albeit one still surrounded by looming walls of muddy water and opaque fog.
Midday and more than a hundred other people suddenly found that their boats were sitting atop dry pavement and that they, along with their clothes, were also perfectly dry. Midday wondered how many hundreds of thousands of gallons Mulberry had simultaneously manipulated to achieve this result and guessed that it was probably close to a million. He let out a big sigh.
Siempre and his assistants were now standing on the stage where the wheel of games that Jenjo used to dish out various tortures resided. Jenjo was there too, of course, though unconcealed fear was plastered plainly across his face as he stood sandwiched between Mulberry and the tall skeleton creature.
“Thank you to everyone currently attending this meeting,” started Siempre, “Surveying the crowd, it looks like turnout is about ninety-five percent. Unfortunately, those who chose not to attend are about to be killed. I suggest all of you cover your ears and close your eyes now.”
The crowd, not quite sure what to make of these instructions, hesitated to do so, and the result was that many people were stunned when the sky turned white. Thousands of lightning bolts and thunderstrikes flew down from the sky and crashed into the still-flooded Neighborhood surrounding the plaza. The onslaught continued for about thirty seconds, during which time there was so much thunder that the otherwise distinct booms of thunder blended into a low rumble loud enough to cause every bone in the body to tremble.
“That should have killed most of the stragglers. Good. We can proceed.”
The crowd, realizing that hundreds of people had just passed away, fell silent. It became clear to all that they were not dealing with deranged rulers gone mad with power but, rather, that their oppressors could be seen as gods in all but name. Even the strongest residents of Neighborhood 8 now understood that they were utterly powerless against their captors.
“Neighborhood 8 has been selected as the subject of an experiment concerning the efficacy of a recently acquired Ability belonging to an individual known as Weathermaker—the same individual responsible for all weather-related phenomena on this plantation and for the lightning storm that just occurred. This Neighborhood will be used to conduct various tests over the next four weeks or until every resident is presumed dead. During these coming weeks, all ordinary duties will be suspended so that every individual will be more able to focus on survival. Those who make it to the end of the month, including individuals sent here because of criminal offenses, will be granted freedom.” Having said everything he needed to say, Siempre nodded to himself. “The experiment hereby begins.”
About 30 human corpses were dropped out of a hatch from the airship above, with some of the bodies landing on the people standing closest to the stage and thereby crushing them to death.
The crowd broke out into a panic. Nobody was exactly sure what had just happened, but it was clear enough that now was a good time to leave. As people scrambled toward the tall walls of water that surrounded the plaza, Siempre continued:
“Until approximately 1 minute ago, this fog was inert but, as of now, the Ability has been activated and thus the fog has taken on its desired characteristics. My subordinate will now allow the fog to return while still keeping the water away. I suggest that all of you watch what is about to occur, as it will reveal the nature of this experiment.”
The fog steadily started creeping in toward the plaza, but Mulberry was keeping it thin enough that everyone could still see what was happening:
Each corpse started twitching as soon as it came into contact with the fog. A few seconds after that, all of them had risen to their feet and were hobbling around with the kind of loose movements one might expect from someone a drunkard on the brink of passing out. After some additional seconds of grogginess, the corpses regained their composure and exploded into motion, with the horde dispersing as each corpse picked a target and sprinted toward them with frightening speed.
In the span of maybe five seconds, another ten people perished.
The newly dead people popped back onto their feet just seconds after death and started attacking whichever living people were closest. The crowd turned to run, with many of them abandoning their boats in a panicked effort to escape before they too were killed and brought back to life as bloodthirsty monsters but, as soon as the undead—which just everyone now knew either from folktales or personal experience was what they were dealing with—started charging toward Siempre and his subordinates, Mulberry let all the water she had been keeping out of the plaza flood back in with an explosive wave that swept anyone not already sitting on a boat off their feet.
With that, the fog and its accompanying rain were back in full force. Midday couldn’t see anything more than a few feet away from his raft; because of this, he no longer knew where Romulo or Gork had gone. The only other living thing he could see was Mister Potatoes, who had been sitting on his shoulder all day.
He tried his best not to make any noise as he started paddling his way toward the rendezvous point where he was supposed to meet the other bodyguards, but it was hard not to scream as the carnage unfolding behind him made its way into his ears. A torrent of people calling for help as zombies dragged them down under the water flooded his ears with a dread that made his body heavy and his heart weak.
Beyond a shred of doubt, the experiment had begun.