On top of a huge decorative slate gray headstone stood a slender figure in a cheesy black cloak waving skinny arms and a black book. The high-pitched voice made it hard to guess at the gender and age. That could be a short woman, a pre-teen boy, or even a cursed skeleton for all I know. What I did know was that I was probably screwed. At least a little bit.

Thirty plus zombies turned to stare at me with dull eyes as blood drained out of my face. My inner dialogue was beautiful as I stared back at their slack jaws full of cracked and broken teeth.

[Fucking fuck, you stupid, brainless, can’t pay attention miserable fuck!]. My outer dialogue was less eloquent. “Fuck you asshole!”

I mean, it was already too late. The horde had seen me blindly stumble across the pavement and leap across broken down fences, and the intention of the small figure was clear as the zombies began shambling towards me. The high pitched squeals calling for my death made it pretty clear that I had to haul ass. My knocking knees betrayed my fear but I also remembered my experience with the zombie from yesterday. I could do that cleanup trick again but on a larger scale. Thrusting out my hands, a ripple of earth magic tore out of me pulsing and turning the ground around the zombies and seven-feet under into the siltiest, softest sand I could imagine.

My earth magic vibrated the sand to swallow the undead. As the small horde slowly sank out of sight, their clumsy flailing towards me sped up the process as another ripple of earth magic turned the morass back into solid stone. Not one putrid limb extruded from the impromptu tomb. Quickly checking my batteries, I saw that I had used less than half of one of them and it was refilling from my personal overflow.

“What the hell did you do that for?” The small figure screamed, pulling down the hood of the cloak. “Do you have any idea how long it took to raise and control all of them? Some of them have been dead for decades!” Definitely an adolescent boy, probably around 5’3, skinny with pimples and thin rim glasses, classic revenge of the nerds type. I so did not have time for this. The book he held was bound in black leather and had a strip of frayed red ribbon flapping in the wind.

I looked around and saw that just a few of the many nearby houses had some people looking out their windows, and several of them were even coming out with guns. The ranting kid’s voice grated on me in a way that made me consider some serious violence. A little voice in the back of my head also whispered that I honestly did not know if this kid had added to his zombie collection from just the graveyard or if some innocent bystander had been forcibly recruited.

Suddenly, a bolt of black energy punched me in my chest plate rudely interrupted my thoughts. Looking down, I saw that the bone plate covering my battery holding vest was melting fast. I ducked behind a tree and tore off the plate, banishing it as it hit the ground. Growling at the little asshole, I quickly conjured a replacement for the bone plate and slapped it to my chest. Gritting my teeth, I covered it with a thin layer of conjured stone. I grimaced. [Maybe that’ll work better.]

“You just tried to fucking kill me?” I yelled from behind a tree. “Are you serious? That would have completely dissolved my chest!” It was hard coming to terms with a scrawny teenager throwing some kind of death energy around.

The second black bolt was thrown with no hesitation. I watched as the tree I was hiding behind started to topple as the bark and heartwood began to dissolve. Another bolt chewed through the liquifying wood as I hid behind another tree. Dodging another death-bolt, I dove forward behind a much thicker tree.

Quickly growing a stone wall between me and the kid, I grew it big and then I poured mana into it to make it even thicker as I mentally replayed a quick daymare of getting hit with a deathbolt. That is not how I wanted to go out. I pulled out my .45, thumbed off the safety and prepared to cross a boundary I hoped I would never meet.

[How do I do this without killing him?] I wondered, not seeing many options past killing someone who is obviously more than willing to end me. [Little psychotic fucker can throw magical balls of black death that dissolve bone? I haven’t even mastered a magical shield yet, much less some kind of non-violent sleeping spell.]

[Fuck.] Thinking fast, I conjured up a handful of pebbles and slapped the strobe light enchantment on them. I had added a roughshod engraved burst of sound enchantment as well, making instant flash-bang grenades.

Overcharging them with a pulse of mana, I gave a quick prayer. Chucking them up and over the wall with one hand while gripping my gun in the other, I ducked in anticipation of the boom. The instant after the flashbangs landed and let loose their strobelit caterwauling, I pivoted around the wall and pointed my gun at the kid.

The skinny asshole was definitely disoriented, covering his eyes while leaning against a gravestone for balance. Drawing on my Flesh Sorcery to boost my body, I hurtled the torn up ground and tackled that little fucker my armor covered shoulder like a bull plowing him into the dirt.

His entire body arched forward as I drove all of my momentum into his gut. The instant we hit the ground, I reared back and punched him hard in the jaw, and then a few more times for good measure. Using my Earth Sorcery, I pushed him down, forcing him to sink until only his head was above ground. Turning the earth to stone, I kept my gun pointed straight at his head. Time to figure out exactly what was going on here.

“Now hold on right there,” said a grisly voice. “Put that there gun on safe, slowly set it down and put your hands on your head. Then turn around real slow-like.” I heard the metallic click of a hammer being cocked. Now, I was fully armored up - bone helmet with spelled armor and everything - but I had not tested myself out against bullets yet. Better safe than sorry.

I did as the solemn voice requested. As I turned with my hands on my head, I saw that ten inches from my forehead was a barrel of a solid looking revolver, probably a .45 Judge, pointed right at me. The hand holding that gun didn’t waver and the rugged older gentleman with that hand wasn’t smiling. His golden badge hung from his shirt. I’m guessing hastily slapped on.

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“I don’t plan to act like I understand what’s going on here, but if you could remove your helmet, slowly, that’d be a good start.” His drawl was just a bit slow but his annunciation was perfect.

“Well officer, frankly, I would rather not.” I said calmly, slowly taking a step to the side. I explained as I cautiously pulled at my magic while notioning at the . “I don’t know if you saw this, or how much you did or did not see, but the little fucker behind me had a horde of zombies. And you look like you don’t have a problem with my head suddenly having some holes, so I’m going to leave it right where it is.” During my reply, I was reaching out with my earth magic towards his gun.

I know I can manipulate earth and crystals, but I hadn’t tested it out too much on metal yet. It did work on copper. Worth a shot. I felt his firing pin with my senses. The metal sliver of metal was pulled back ready to go off. With a quick flex of power, I bonded the pin to the surrounding metal of the housing so that it was stuck to every side of the inside of the gun.

I smirked with my eyes but kept my face still. Now, pulling the trigger won’t be doing anyone any good. Another facet of my magic worked out in my favor. At least this experiment made me feel a tiny bit safer. Feeling cocky, I figured that maybe I should go a bit further.

Lunging forward, I grabbed the last 2 inches of his pistol with my hand and crunched the barrel. My magic crumpled the steel like a wet toilet paper roll while making it look like I did it with raw hand strength. The officer stared at his gun in disbelief.

“What the . . .” He stumbled out, “How did ya . .” He backed up a few steps and turned his gun around to examine its sudden lack of utility.

“Magic.” I grinned, turning and gesturing to the mostly buried nerd. “Apparently it's a part of our world now. Which brings us full circle to the necromancer behind me.”

I crouched, turning and pointing at the kid whose mouth was conveniently covered with stone. I left his nose free. I’m not evil.

It felt good to get some of this off my chest, as if speaking about the current reality made it more . . . real. As if by acknowledging it out loud that it would make it easier for my mind to get on board.

“The buried pipsqueak who can control the dead and throw literal bolts of dissolving death at people. I really don’t care if you believe me or not but I don’t have time for this, and neither do you.” I pulled off my helmet, turning my head so he could see every part of my face. “See, I’m human, just with magic. There was something . . . unexplainable, like a Ripple that vibrated reality yesterday or whatever, and I am different. Not sure if that’s the right way to describe it. Anyways, you’re probably different too. But good luck with that.”

The older man shook his head as he adjusted his clearly police issued body armor, putting his broken gun back in its holster. His eyes nervously darted around even as I noticed his hands slightly shaking even while his voice was steady. “Name’s Hansen, Michael Hansen. What are you planning on doing since I don’t have a prayer in stoppin’ ya?”

“Not killin’ him, that’s for sure,” I grunted. Putting my helmet back on, I pulled Hansen’s gun to me with my magic. I felt like a freaking Jedi. “I’ll fix this when I’m done here. Might wanna find yourself a bat or an ax, sir. Melee weaponry doesn’t run outta bullets.” Turning around with the old man’s gun, I squatted next to the buried kid and cleared the stone from around his mouth.

“Look here you little shit,” I said as I loomed over him, pointing the non-working Judge at his big nose. “I’m not going to kill you. Yet. Probably. Haven’t really made up my mind honestly.” His eyes grew huge. As he opened his mouth I filled it with conjured ice.

“I didn’t say you could talk yet. Now, you’re going to nod ‘yes’ or shake your head ‘no’. Have you killed anyone?” Head shake no. “Were all of those zombies from this graveyard?” A bunch of ridiculous nodding. “Ok, for future reference, if I ever hear of you killing someone and making them into a zombie, I will kill you and bury you in the freaking core of the Earth. Am I clear?”

I know, I’m soft. It doesn’t help that I was a pathetic geek in school and could probably guess how this kid felt. I hauled the kid out of the soil and banished the ice so he could speak, even though I instantly hated his voice.

“I’m sorry!” He shrieked. Like a frightened rabbit, he tore out of my sight faster than I expected, probably the smartest thing he could have done. Those skinny little legs moved his ass fast enough that I didn’t have time to reconsider my actions. But I had plenty else to do.

And I couldn’t be the only one doing it. Seeing old man Hansen staring at the torn up battlefield with a deer in the headlights look, I grimaced and let out a sigh as I walked over to him. Waving my hand, I smoothed over the disturbed earth, laughing a bit as Hansen’s eyes bout’ popped out of his head.

After taking a few minutes to ease his worries and give some quick highlights of the crazy events of the recent past, I got started on the work that needed to be done. I fixed Hansen’s gun with some fancy magic all the while staring down the street to make sure Squeaky didn’t hurl any death magic my way. I noticed the kid’s black book sitting in the dirt. Quickly taking action, I entombed it in stone and sank it more than forty feet underground even as my spine shivered at the thought of my magic touching that nasty object.

Ridding myself of that icky feeling, I did my good deed for the day and presented the firearm back to Hansen handle first with the safety on, I intentionally turned my back to Hansen. I figured not killing the kid would put me on his good side and good people will probably be hard to find down the road. The old man holstered the firearm and left without another word.

My next hour was spent sealing the graveyard just in case some other trumped up fucker decided to do what Squeaky did. Not on my watch. This was not out of any sense of civic duty, but out of personal safety.

I didn’t want to deal with magically guided undead down the road. I don’t have a good answer for that problem. Any other wizard I’d read about coulda just blown the area to smithereens but no, I had to bury the enemy like a damn dog with his bone. My magics are defensive in nature and they have scaling possibilities down the road but damn, that fight was just awkward. That pathetic excuse for a wizard could have wrecked me if he were smarter or any better. I need options - hell, I need training. But I don’t think I’m getting that anytime soon.

At some point, my bullets will run out and I never learned how to do the stuff to make my own. Still couldn’t believe that I had a gun on me and didn’t use it, like the magic made itself my default option just because I had it. Uhg. And for some reason, I honestly think that this isn’t the end of the changes.

When it rains, it pours - or in my life, when it rains, it rains piles of steaming crap. Pulling myself out of my self-deprecating reverie, I cautiously started on my way back to my house, stopping at the abandoned gas station on the street corner. My justified paranoia pushed me to be careful so I went down a different street than the way I came just to get a better look around. The raw silence was creeping me out.

Other than that little section of town near the graveyard, there really weren’t people out and about. Houses just looked completely dead with no lights on and most of them had broken windows and doors. Usually there’s a background hum of cars, the fading echo of motors bouncing off the houses and pavement, but not today.

With my eyes on a swivel, I tiptoed into the gas station and took in the sorry sight. The glass front door was shattered. Every wire shelf was knocked over. I even saw a pair of abandoned shoes in the back near the storage area that looked like someone was straight up teleported out of them. My ‘creeped out’ factor shot to the max but I needed to secure more supplies.

After verifying that the store was empty of life, I picked over the canned food and medical stuff. Not much was left. The medical supply section and beer section were wiped clean. I deduced that this probably meant that all the grocery stores and big box stores like Wal-Mart would be dangerous places right now. People get dangerous when shit gets weird. I may have to grow my own food if this keeps up. Great, another project. This laundry list just keeps on growing.