The Ridge (Book 1): After the Static Read online

  One belief that is fully embraced by the followers of voodoo is the zombie. The Creole word Zombi is apparently derived from Nzambi, a West African deity. Incredibly, this view can only be traced back to 1929, after the publication of William B. Seabrook's The Magic Island. In this book, Seabrook recounts his experiences on Haiti, including witnessing the walking dead.

  Unlike the modern zombies popularized today, Haitian zombies were once ordinary people, but underwent zombification by a Bokor, through a spell or potion. The victim then dies and returns, becoming a monotonous mechanism, incapable of remembering the past, unable to identify loved ones, and condemned to a life serving the will of the zombie master.

  This practice can be seen throughout history in Haiti, with no one more notorious than Papa Doc Duvalier, the dictator of Haiti from 1957 to 1971, who had a private army referred to as Tonton Macoutes. These entranced soldiers followed his every command and seemed to be under his spell. It was also a well-known fact that Duvalier also had his own Voodoo Church and he promised his parishioners that he would return after his death to rule again. While that never happened, a guard was placed at the entrance of his tomb to ensure he could not escape or no one was able to gain access and steal his body.

  As you can tell from this small synopsis of zombie lore, we could sit here and dissect the validity of this topic for months or even years. As you will come to find, some of the situations encountered by some of us that survived during this silenced outbreak may not entirely fall into the classic zombie mythos as outlined, but some strange similarities haunt us all these years later. No matter what the cause, something very strange took place during that time and the way the events ran parallel to many different religious beliefs seem to be the real mystery. Could Voodoo have been involved or was there something darker and more sinister at work? These are great questions that can only be answered at the end of our journey. Please, sit back and join me on this trip back into this nightmare.

  Chapter Two

  “And the Fifth Angel Blew His Trumpet…”

  October 4

  In many ways, the story I am about to relay mirrors the obscene realities popularized today and yesteryear in pop culture. However, unlike those fictional tales of undead atrocities, the following descriptions and accounts are real, taken from eyewitness testimony, audio recordings, and personal experience of the events beginning on February 13, 2014. That sad day will live forever inside those of us that somehow survived, in those of us that dealt with the vile darkness that overtook our beloved city.

  While some of the documents I am working from are scraps of papers found throughout the ordeal, others are intact and include visuals that I can’t put into words. For those and some of the videos, I have created a blog that you could visit to see some of the supporting documents. That blog can be found at survivingthestatic.blogspot.com; you should check it out if you have a chance; you may find something interesting or take solace in some of the standalone accounts that didn’t make it into this volume of stories.

  How did it start, what agency created this plague, was it the United Nations, or was it something biblical? These are but some of the questions that will forever haunt my thoughts. Even now, as I document the information at hand, information that could one day solve the greater mystery that is entwined in the depths of this horrific account.

  Every day for the last three months, I have awoken to the visions of blood soaked snow that soiled the cobblestone streets; the never-ending nightmare that I can’t forget. Those prophetic visions are pushing me to complete this manuscript, to tell these stories. Where should I begin? Let me see, maybe here with this strange account. From my research, this video recording could be the scientists’ responsible for the outbreak talking about patient zero.

  I

  (Play) I can’t believe that the impossible has happened. One of the specimens managed to endure the process, surviving to see the light of day. It mutated beyond our capacity to conceive. Our agenda never allowed for their freedom after vaccination, the world is far from ready to comprehend the truth, to discover our manic exploitation of the meek. The gates of ridicule would open, and we would all be ruined.

  Why were we so stupid, after the devastation of the battles, all the death, and smoldering bodies? I still cannot believe it. How could we leave Sector Two unguarded? Idiots, they are all idiots. The best security money can buy, honestly? I know that it’s what those feeble old men said in their brief. I listened, although I knew we should have taken more precautions. We’re smarter than that. Now, the disease is free. Our only hope is the quarantine or eradication of the contagion, whatever comes first.

  I will not believe what we see from the plane overhead. Oh God, it is as if the gates of Hell have opened my eyes. The virus is spreading throughout the city. At this rate, quarantine is impossible. These vile creatures are everywhere. The outbreak is uncontrollable. This can’t be happening, what have we done? What have I created? Our plans are evaporating right in front of our eyes; we must escape this vessel before the others awaken before we become their experiment in pleasure, their host. Our facility is not safe, sound the evacuation alarm! We’re ruined; there is no escape! We are doomed! (Stop).

  II

  Damn it, NO MORE… I can’t take this anymore. Why am I doing this, what am I thinking? (Silence)…

  Oh, sorry about that. Let me tell you, although I survived these atrocities, in many ways, I am a shell of myself, and this project is opening some very sore wounds. After watching this video, it is clear that the scientists were more concerned with their reputation or financial wealth than the outcome of terror that was at hand. A terror that as everyone soon discovered was far more advanced than they could recognize. As disturbing as the recounting of the video above, the following encounter found in a building outside of the city may be even more riveting. This account (from a digital recorder at the thrift store) demonstrates that these creatures not only could think for themselves, it appears that they also possessed feelings that could be perceived as human.

  (Click) 11 o’clock, another body falls. This strange infection continues to grow, surrounding our every move. Look, in the corner by the rusty pipe, such a ghastly sight. Those red eyes filled with sorrow, that festering decay of the green death. His body ravaged by the toxin. How can he exist? Who would want to live that way? Stealthily, I maintain my distance. I will not fall prey to this vile demon; the rot will not overtake me.

  Turning the corner, I see even more victims carousing throughout the corridor, their infestation searching for hosts like zombies for brains. Only a few of us remain active on this funeral barge along the river, defying the poisonous torture. How much longer can we survive in this floating prison? Our friends destroyed, yet our search for the cure must continue. 11:30, another man falls. No one is safe, our lives ruined, all hope lost!

  Tonight I must escape; the atrocities that surround me are closing in. This terror, this infection, what have they done to us? This hunger is erupting from deep inside my bowels, why do I crave it so? My lips moisten at the mere thought. If I didn’t know better, I would think, I know I will not survive another night on here. I can feel them near; our pulse seems to beat in unison, why? Where has my mind gone? My eyes grow weary. My skin, something seems wrong with my skin. That taste. I cannot shake this craving, what is happening to me? What have they done to us? Look, over there in the light, that doorway, my escape, freedom at last. Wait, what is that crawling in the corner? Could it be another like me? Could they too be searching for salvation? There it is again… That hunger. It’s calling me.

  What have they done to me? My pulse quickens. I can hear the echoes of my heart stir, pulsating through my now placid flesh. Me, it cannot be, no, I will never quarry. The door, I must reach the door. Once I get some air, I’ll be okay. I’ll wake from this torment, this nightmare. Two more steps, which is all I need until deliverance. The air, it’ll cleanse me of these thoughts. Free me from the desires that are overwhelmin
g my senses. There it is again, that hunger. What is it? My hands, oh god! They, no, the rot! Damn them to hell. What did they do to me?

  I don’t know what has come over me. All I know is that in five seconds, I will be free of this barge, this chamber of despair. I must compose myself. Once I leave, there is no turning back. Not for me, not for them. I may be the only one left coherent enough to escape exile, to see the blood red skies of our future. Funny, I can’t feel the door, I am pushing, and I know I am.

  There it is again, that hunger, drawing me closer to those bystanders next to the phone booth. Maybe one of them could call a taxi for me. The light is brighter than I expected. That hunger, how the pains grow inside of me. Why couldn’t I feel the door? My hands, they are, wait, look what they have done to my hands. I must move on. They can’t catch me now. Somehow, I must find a way to blend in with those people.

  As I close in, I worry; will they notice my hands? Will they pity me for the infestation created by the re-animators? They can’t! I will not let them. There it is again, that bitter taste plaguing my every move, the anguish grows with every step. I can smell it now, fragrantly alive all around me. Oh no, it cannot be that.

  The blonde-haired woman in the front, I know, it is from her. What is it? What is so tempting? I can’t take it much longer, my stomach, my eyes, and these thoughts. I have to control myself. I need to figure out what these monsters have done. There she is. At last, our hearts beat in tandem. Yesterday, I would’ve gladly walked up to her. Now, now, I feel a swarm running through my veins, my blood flows with an unnatural bitterness

  Am I alive, I do not feel like it, I feel dead inside like I’m rotting from my entrails! My hands, I cannot believe my hands. I reach for her. “Help me,” her scream pierces the thin serene air. My heart races, my glands salivate. She smells so delicious. I cannot control myself any longer; I must have her. Oh god, oh, Lord, what have I done? What am I doing? I cannot stop this frenzy. She… she tastes so sweet. Her brains… Her blood, her soul (click).

  III

  It is amazing how these two accounts seem to originate from the same location, but where? There was that World Health Organization (WHO) facility along the north side of the Allegheny. That would make sense, as countries such as India and Ethiopia have felt the wrath of their vaccination program on children. Hell, even the Ebola outbreak in Liberia can be traced to back to them, or at least their parent organization the United Nations (with help from the CDC and that globalist Bill Gales); although, the Ebola pandemic did have more to do with diamonds than depopulation. And Zika, their biggest success, was only successful because of the brain-dead populace that could not see the actual meaning hidden in the chemtrails.

  What is more disturbing though is this next slice of evidence I dug up (and yes I mean dug up from a reporter that was not as lucky). It appears that their vile bodies had an intellect that rose far above what we could believe possible. Plus, it seems that they had friends in high places (United Nations?). That’s right, according to this video; they could organize. It appears that these demonic forces were together not only for an assault on unsuspecting society but of religion as well. It is hard to imagine creatures speaking the words of scripture that never existed; yet, their leader in his bright blue and white vestments was using his pulpit to spread his gospel.

  I do have to warn you, though, most of the scripture in these accounts had to be translated from Latin. While I do have some understanding of the language from reading old textbooks and translation guides, I’m by no means an expert. Unfortunately, my subpar high school did not offer it (even as an elective). For those of you that may have a better understanding of that classic language, I have posted the Latin versions next to these verses on the blog that I mentioned earlier in this chapter. Plus, I will add all of the Latin passages from the Gospel in an addendum at the end of the manuscript.

  There will be a day when the Earth will tremble, and my prophecy will live,

  Fear will overtake the damned and a lone scream will be heard as our minion rise

  (The Revelation of Moloch 1.11)

  Everywhere I look, I see perfection. Around every corner, our congregation grows by harvesting the sinners for our blessed grey Communion. Or is it red, or green, does it really matter? Their succulent Eucharist tastes so sweet on my tongue. At least, appeasing my hunger for a few seconds before, the urge explodes inside me. My appetite is unfathomable, I want more of this flesh; more of this tender host.

  The others, the nonconformists, the degenerates; they harbor this delicacy shrouding it beneath their porous temples. With most of them discarding their importance by destroying the texture. Yet, their mark… that symbol, what gives them the right? Even the ability to follow such an inane spirit seals their fate. To think, they believe they are safe, protected from the purification of their sins. True, they have been chosen.

  Chosen, not by their excuse as a savior, but, by my followers

  Come, my disciples gather around. Do you hear that sound of panic vibrating throughout our cathedral? One of our brothers managed to free himself. Opening the door for the world to hear our sermon, to conform to our commandments. The frail, the beautiful, guilty I say, all guilty. However, their transgressions can be forgiven and their confessions heard upon the mount. I will give them absolution, and possibly, immortality.

  Let us pray

  Lord of Light

  I stand before you searching for the guidance to lead my drove

  Our hearts are open to the light you shine brightly upon the heavens

  Our minds are open to the love you share with your faithful concubine

  Guide us through these dark, violent days

  Giving us the composure to spread your name throughout the world

  Our time has finally arrived

  In your name, we pray

  Amen

  ‘

  Chapter Three

  “Then a Great and Mysterious Sight Appeared in the Sky …”

  October 6

  Sorry about the abrupt ending yesterday, the longer I wrote the more disturbing the images became. My mind is weak, and I started to relive that day, that horror. I had to lay down; the terrifying visions began to become real. I never want to be part of that nightmare again; I want to move on.

  So where was I, oh, yeah, there? It seems as though the accounts were not entirely centered on those who were infected or were responsible. After some digging, I was able to come into a diary of an innocent and her child. Still, there are times when the following is too much. However, her story must be told.

  I

  February 13, 2014

  Baby, I decided to stop and take a break and write down some of what is happening just incase something happens to me out here, Trust me, I wish none of this happened, but you need to know the truth. I will do everything in my power to make sure you are safe. You mean more to me than anything and I will stop at nothing to make sure your birth goes as smoothly as possible.

  What are those evil creatures? Where did they come from? Their skin, their faces… My god, their faces! Give me strength Lord to escape. To escape their atrocities, I alone am insignificant, a soulless vessel drifting aimlessly upon these blood stained corridors’. But, you my son, Eli, you will be different. I just know you will be. I can feel your greatness pulsate throughout my womb; I am aware that your destiny lies on a different path than mine.

  Once I start to move again, where do I turn? The streets are overrun by that demonic hoard. I must escape the city. Maybe they are isolated here, trapped by the rotting stench of decay. The water, yes, the water, it will protect me. I saw it once in a movie. That’s right, I remember it so clearly. These zombies cannot cross the water. I must head to the west once I get to the crossroad next to the gas station.

  Hold on baby; Momma will protect you. Momma will make things right for you. Damn your father. Isaac, why did you run off with that petty whore? What could she give him that I, we, could not? It’s his loss, though. J
ust remember that after you are born, when you become a man, a leader. Until then, rely on my guidance; you are my world.

  There it is, the Bridge. If I remember correctly, there is a small cottage about six miles ahead. Not far from that worn-down cemetery where we would picnic. That was the first time your father, well, you do not need to hear about that. Where are all of the cars? Strange, it should be rush hour if my watch is right. Yes, rush hour, yet, this highway is empty. We cannot be the only ones left. Others had to have made it through the city after the explosion. Hmmm, I know we will.

  II

  Her emotion was so real; I could feel her fear. I could taste the tension in her voice and her thoughts. Why would the world be so cruel? If there is a God, he definitely was not on her side that day. If anything, he left her and the unborn child as a human sacrifice. This was strange behavior for a supposed divine being, although, he did leave his son rot on a cross inside a crown of thorns. Maybe, he is not so divine after all.

  While her tale was just beginning, the victim from the first account seems to have escaped the facility he was in and is still struggling with what is happening. Evidently, he is still unaware of the depth of the transformation that is taking place within him. He sees himself alive; he can still talk, or at least think aloud.

  (Click) What is wrong with me? These thoughts, these feelings, I am alive, yet I do not feel. What happened to me last night? My mind is a swirling reservoir of desire, craving not you alone, but your flesh like never before. Gabrielle, darling, why do you flee with our child in your womb? I can feel your heartbeat; hear the sweet elixir pulsate through your veins, calling out to me. It is whispering hints of the perfection, you harbor. Come back take me. Take all of me; I am yours. But, these thoughts, they haunt me, draining the essence of my instincts to an almost animalistic state, driving me to the edge of reason.