Clickers vs Zombies by Brian Keene, J.F. Gonzalez Page A

“Are you sure, Abigail? Are you absolutely certain it’s them?”
    Instead of answering him, Abigail made a choking cry. Her head slammed against the back of the chair hard enough to rock it, even though it was bolted to the floor. Blood streamed from her eyes, nose, mouth and ears. More of it pooled on the seat beneath her. Her complexion turned red, then purple.
    “Get her out of there,” Michele screamed. “Please…”
    A huge gout of blood flew from Abigail’s mouth, splashing Clark in the face. More of it flew across the room to splatter on the wall and computer console. Clark retched. Both Michele and Abigail shrieked. Then Abigail went limp.
    Wiping the blood from his eyes, Clark checked the woman’s pulse.
    Michele gaped. “Is she?”
    He nodded. “She is. Find me a weapon.”
    “W-what?”
    “A weapon. A gun. A fire extinguisher. A broom handle. It doesn’t matter what. Anything I can use to bash her head in before she comes back.”
    “I don’t understand, sir. She’s dead. Why would you want to—”
    “Never mind,” he snapped. “I’ll do it myself. Call security. Right now! Tell them we have a Code Zulu. Do you understand?”
    Nodding, Michele hurried across the room and reached for the phone. Behind her, she heard the door hiss open as Clark ran out into the hallway. She quickly consulted a list of extensions hanging on the wall next to the phone and then dialed a number.
    “Security.” The voice on the other end of the line was crisp and quick.
    Michele gave them her location and a summary of the situation. Before she could say more, the line went dead.
    “I hope that means they’re coming,” she muttered.
    “Oh, they are coming.”
    Michele jumped, startled. She turned to Abigail, who was sitting up and staring at her. The injured woman grinned. Blood dribbled down her chin and matted her long blonde hair.
    “Abby? Oh my God, are you okay? We thought you were dead!”
    “Abigail is dead, you fool. ”
    Frowning, Michele slowly hung up the phone. Something was wrong here. First of all, Clark had insisted that Abigail had been dead. Was it possible he’d been wrong? Secondly, there was something wrong with her voice. She sounded like Abigail, and yet, she also sounded like someone—or something—else.
    “Abby. Abigail. Listen. You should lie back until help arrives. Mr. Arroyo—”
    “You stupid slab of meat. I told you that Abigail is dead. My name is Ob. Ob, the Obot.”
    “I’m sorry…?”
    Abigail sighed. “Why is it that your kind no longer remember us? No matter how many Earths we destroy, it’s the same on each one. We are forgotten among your kind. We are nothing more than legends now.”
    “Who? Abby, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. You’ve been hurt. You’re confused. You saw something during your session. I don’t know what.”
    “We are the Siqqusim. We are the abominations that speak from the head. Your kind used to call us demons and djinn. You thought we were spirits of the dead, but we are not. We are among the oldest things in your universe. We existed long before Michael and Lucifer chose sides with their ‘angels.’ They were nothing more than inferior versions of us. We were banished long ago, banished to the Void by the one you call God. But we have returned. Now is the time of the Oberim, what you call ‘the Rising.’ We have laid waste to a dozen versions of your Earth before this. Now it is your Earth’s turn. So many of my brethren wait for release. Our number is more than the stars. More than infinity.”
    Abigail removed the wires and leads connected to her and slowly rose from the chair. She stretched out her arms and looked at them, as if seeing them for the first time. Then she put her hands on her hips and wriggled back and forth.
    “Yes,” she said. “This body will suffice, for now.”
    “What are you doing?” Michele backed up against the wall.
    “I told you. My brethren wait at the threshold. I must get