“Oh, I think I’m gonna get sick!”

Thulaeth looked for his companions, but found nothing in the inky void.

A rumble began deep within their chests, and the group’s vision and disorientation cleared. They slammed into the ground and stared into a cloudless, sunny afternoon. The Suicide Keep had vanished and replaced with an unfamiliar environment. Saffron rose to her feet and scanned their surroundings. A brilliant glowing purple line stretched forward through a green meadow. Tall prairie grass topped with yellow flowers swayed in the cool late summer breeze. Unlike the sterile sands of the desert, the earthy scent of foliage and fresh soil was a welcomed relief, but still unsettling to the travelers. Dayne surveyed the area but couldn’t discern their location.

“Are we there?” With effort, Thulaeth rose to his feet and brushed strands of brown turf from his pants.

“No. We should be in a forest, not a field. It should be colder too.” She pointed at the illuminated line leading towards the horizon. “There’s the path Clemson spoke about. At least it isn’t the desert!” Saffron said, taking the lead. “Let’s get moving.”

“Look!” Maarko gestured to the distant skyline. Tall buildings miles away stood out against the blue sky. Massive structures, unlike any they had encountered before, appeared to stretch to the heavens. Sunlight gleamed from broken glass still in their frames. They showed to be damaged with rusted steel beams protruding from the blackened ruins. The very tops of the towers poked through a strange, thick verdant haze unaffected by wind. “I’ve never seen buildings like that before. What kind of place is this?”

“He said that we would be someplace different. Wherever we are, something bad happened here.” Thulaeth pointed at the green fog. “Weird thing is, I don’t see any people or animals. Nobody.”

“Heads up. We’ve got incoming.” Dayne gestured ahead to a massive crowd of human shapes staggering towards them.

“Let’s carry on. Remember that they can’t see or hurt us. If I recall what the Suicide Mage said correctly, they will pass right through, so we should be fine.” Thick blades of grass beneath their feet were unmoved as they walked, and the sound of their footsteps was unheard. Saffron ran her hand through the trunk of a small sapling and it passed through without resistance. “See? No matter what happens, keep moving.”

As they moved towards the mass, Maarko became uneasy at the unusual yet somehow familiar movement of the crowd. The slow unsteady shamble and erratic jerking gait told him what he already expected. He could hear a low hum. Was it voices? Howls and moans assaulted their ears while the stinging stench of rotting meat and strewn bowels reached their nostrils. Overhead, an ominous “cloud” buzzed and swarmed, which spoke volumes about what was to come. “Those are undead.”

“You sure?” Thulaeth kept his sight on the shifting, dark form.

“I’ve seen enough zombies to know. One time, before the Reformation-”

“There must be a hundred of them!” Saffron squinted her eyes and focused on them.

“At least, judging by the flies over them.” Maarko said.

“Those are flies?” Thulaeth stared at the black mass.

“Yeah, I’ve dealt with undead before, but never this many. Evil magic, a curse, something happened in this world to have caused this.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s just get this over with.” Maarko moved up close to Saffron. “I hope you’re correct about them not bothering us, but that smell is going to be awful.”

“Agreed.” She pulled a kerchief from her pocket. She wrapped it over her nose and mouth and encouraged her men to do the same. “Tie it over your head to mask the stink and stay alert. If there are undead, there will be a Necromancer nearby commanding them. I know they shouldn’t be a threat, but our path leads right through the middle of them. We have no other choice.”

The smell grew the closer the creatures got to them. Huge blue-bottle flies swarmed over them. Instinct told them to swat the enormous pests away, but their hands passed through them, providing them without results. Giving up the futile effort, they trudged on.

The crowd had gotten close enough for them to see them clear. Skeletal features protruded from gray, decomposing flesh and dangled from putrefying muscle and sinew. Maggots crawled in and around their empty eye sockets. As they growled, their mouths hung open, revealing broken, rotting teeth. Black steaming drool dripped down their chins in extended thick braids and caught on the tattered remnants of their strange clothes. Their movements were clumsy and slow, but as a group, they formed an army.

Fifty feet away from the soldiers, the mass of ruined corpses stopped and stared ahead at the unit of drow. A few of their heads bobbed from left to right, and their howls grew quieter. “What are they up to?” Saffron inquired.

“Not sure.” Dayne cocked his head at the monsters. “I... I think they are looking at us?” He gripped the pommel of his sword. The crinkling feeling of the wrapped leather between his fingers gave him a bit of comfort.

“I thought they couldn’t do that?” Thulaeth’s voice wavered and cracked. “He said they wouldn’t see us, yeah?”

Saffron held up her finger at him. “Calm down, Thu. We don’t know what they are doing, but we have to remain on this line, and that means we are moving through that crowd one way or another.”

The undead resumed their determined march towards them. “Stay here for a minute. I’m going to test the waters.” Dayne took a step forward, his sword in hand. The gap between the living and the dead narrowed, and he arrived at his “trial subject”, a human female. One detail he noticed was they were all humans. There were no signs of elves, orcs, or dwarves. The lady, dressed in odd, filthy clothing, came to a halt in front of him and stared at him with an empty gaze. Her cloudy and soulless eyes darted with deep red swirls. Black, crusted blood smeared her face and the corners of her mouth while caked trails hung from her eyelashes like crimson tears. Thick, gummy saliva coated his tongue as nausea set in, and his stomach churned from the sharp sting of infected meat.

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Her emaciated skeletal arm swiped at the stranger, but her slender fingers slid through him, just as Dayne had hoped. She tried again with both arms, but the effect was the same. The creature leaned back and howled in exasperation. Others moved in on her cue and struggled as well.

“It’s obvious they can see us. I don’t know how, but at least they can’t do anything about it. Plug your noses and let’s go.” Saffron tightened the kerchief and walked on.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen undead like this.” Maarko shuffled through the growing mass of bodies. Even though they couldn’t touch him, he still wasn’t safe being close to them. “Normally, necromantic zombies have a cleaner appearance than this. Less decay.”

“Don’t you guys think it’s weird that there aren’t elves or any other races here? I’ve only seen humans and they’re dressed odd.” Thulaeth picked up his step.

“They aren’t warriors. There isn’t a sword among them. Townsfolk maybe, traders or farmers?” Saffron moved to the side, not wanting these “things,” to go through her.

The dense crowd became suffocating and uncomfortable. Sun-dried, leathery faces bobbed close to theirs. The overwhelming stink of decay stung their nostrils and forced their stomachs to turn over. With every haunting moan that escaped their mouths, a fresh smell of putrefying meat wafted through the air. Some would stop to sniff and chomp their teeth at the unusual travelers, only to howl with frustration and move on in their never-ending parade.

While comforted because the undead couldn’t touch them, they remained unsettled by the horror. “We’re almost through them. Stay focused.” Her attempts to encourage her men were as much for her as for them. Being this close to these sad, soulless creatures was an experience she had never had. If Izzara blesses her, she would never have to live through something like this again.

The crowd soon thinned as they neared the end. The zombies had given up and continued to move on their depressing sojourn after they failed to get this fresh food source. Their screams and moans faded into the distance as it had been when they arrived.

“Stop, please.” Thulaeth kneeled on the trampled grass and panted. “I think I’m going to be sick.” His breakfast didn’t taste wonderful coming back up when he heaved the steaming contents onto the ground while the others stood and watched.

“C’mon you green-teat!” Dayne glared at him. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Leave him alone.” Saffron, in an unusual gesture, sided with the youthful trooper. “The smell is getting to me as well. It’s fine, Thu. Take your time.” She turned to Maarko. “Write this stuff down for Clemson while we’re waiting.”

The old drow pulled a quill and scraps of paper from his pocket. “I’ve been noting every detail about this realm in my head. From the look of things, this place appears more advanced than our own world. I haven’t seen horses, cows, goats, even the corpses of them. Just these curious metal carriages.” He tapped his boot on the black rock beneath their feet. “The stones of this road looks strange too.”

Peculiar objects poked through the overgrown shrubs and weeds. The rusted “wagons” that Maarko had spoken about parked on the dark road and glass orbs at the ends of tall poles which he presumed were lights. They traveled on a path built of an unusual ebon stone without seams or mortar. Vivid yellow lines protruded from the crevices, piercing the shrubbery and straight down the center of what they thought was a road. An odd corroded steel sign emblazoned with a phrase written in a common tongue. JEFFERSON ST. NEXT EXIT hung over the pavement they traveled on.

“What do you think that means? Who is Jefferson?” Dayne remarked.

Maarko shrugged. “Don’t know. Looks like a direction or something for travelers, perhaps?” He pointed to a brick building with shattered windows. “The buildings are so strange and the lack of living beings is curious.”

Thulaeth stood and took a refreshing gulp of water from his canteen. “I’m sorry, you guys, but I had seen nothing like that, ever.”

She rested her hands on her belt. “It’s okay, but we need to keep moving.”

In the distance, frantic screams sounded. “Help! Oh, my God!” Saffron noticed a man sprinting towards them, dressed in tattered, unusual clothing. He was carrying a rucksack on his shoulder that bounced with each stride. Several undead were striding near him from behind, but unlike the others they had seen earlier, these were faster. Their skin was less rotting, and their outfits showed to be cleaner.

“Well, that guy’s alive, at least for now.” Maarko looked up from his writing.

“Think he can see us?” Dayne waved to the scared man.

“No, he’s terrified, is all. Keep going. We can’t give him aid.”

As they moved on, they watched the man trip over a sparse collection of garbage on the road and fall to the hard rock with a heavy thud. He turned to look behind and saw the approaching marauders. “No! Please, anybody? Help!”

Thick brambles wrapped around his leg, keeping him from rising to his feet. He pulled a black rod from his bag while he laid on the ground. To the group, it looked like a spellslinger, but not any they had ever seen. He yelled at the beasts and the object in his hand released two loud booms as brilliant flashes of fire erupted from the tip. A single monster’s skull exploded from the back and chunks of bloody tissue blew out. The corpse slumped to the stone, but the others appeared unfazed. They continued their determined sprint towards the man. Blasts from his weapon discharged as they crowded and fell on the screaming feast. Soon, their shattered fingernails and gnashing teeth clawed at his body. Giant sheets of flesh and clothes stripped from him, and his weapon clattered away from his grip. His shouts turned into desperate gurgles as they bit into his neck and arms.

The gang resigned themselves to stand there and watch as the animals ripped this man apart. As the eating frenzy continued, blood spewed into the air from the pile. The frenzied pack of creatures tore through his innards, holding draping strands of red flesh, and howled. Slower groups of the undead moved over to join this fresh feast.

“I suppose we know what happened to the living here. It seems corpses outnumber them tenfold. What a nightmare. Do you guys think this is one of the ten hells?” Maarko glanced around in horror. The historian in him took in each of the sights and smells, trying to document everything. He had an innate ability to remember and recall information that he focused on. His mother, years ago, would tell him the Gods kissed him with his skill. Kissed by the Gods. Hmmph! More like a curse. There were moments in his life he wished he could forget, but his damnable memories promised to stay with him until his last breath. Loves lost, opportunities missed, sights witnessed. He’s grown accustomed to coping with it, but from time-to-time he reflects on his eternal reminders and struggles.

As luck would have it, Saffron pointed to the distance, letting them all take their eyes from the furious pack of zombies. “Look, up ahead!”

Straight in the center of the road, the path ended at an odd shimmering ring of violet light. Thin tendrils of brilliant purple energy crackled from the portal’s edges. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“I agree. The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned!” Maarko tucked his pen and paper back in his pocket and walked with the group.

The gruesome environment of death, and the sounds of the carnage faded away with their rush to end the madness. The portal was getting closer, and they sensed a hum of power and a whiff of electrical ozone the nearer they got. Their attention switched to a bright white glow in the center of the circle. Without caution, they rushed into the light one by one, disregarding their uneasiness until the deep rumble and disorientation set in.

The world of the Dead would be a memory that would fade as time moved on. Except for Maarko.