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

about the business of finding them hosts. We are free to walk the levels again, as we did long ago. As your kind dies, we replace you here. When your spirit departs, we enter your bodies. We reside in your brain. We control your flesh. But to do that, you have to die. And so, without further ado…”
    Abigail circled the other remote viewers, studying each of them. She paused in front of Thompson. Then she leaned forward, as if to kiss him.
    “A search of my host’s memories tell me that this man is named Thompson. Did you know the one you call Abigail had a crush on him? Probably not, nor does it matter. What does matter is that according to her memories, this Thompson is monitoring a renegade occult group known as the Kwan. I have interest in them, so we’ll start with Thompson first.”
    Then Abigail leaned even closer, undid the top buttons of Thompson’s shirt, opened her mouth, and bit into his throat. Thompson immediately came out of his trance. His eyes snapped open. He tried to scream, tried to sit upright, but when he did, Abigail shook her head like a dog and his throat ripped free. Shreds of flesh hung from Abigail’s crimson mouth. Blood jetted from Thompson’s throat. He clawed at the wound with his fingers and more blood sprayed between them in geysers, showering both Abigail and himself. Laughing, Abigail raised his arms, turned her face to the flow, and bathed in the gore. Then Thompson slumped over, dead.
    Michele screamed, but Abigail ignored her. Michele glanced around for something to defend herself with, saw nothing, and opted to escape instead. She ran for the door as Abigail opened Morgan’s throat in a similar manner.
    “Where are you going, Michele? Don’t worry. Stick around. I’ll be with you in just a moment.”
    Still screaming, Michele dived for the controls to the door. Before she could jab the button, the door opened from the outside, and Clark dashed into the room, holding a fire extinguisher over his head. He slid to a halt, gaping at the carnage taking place. As he and Michele watched, Thompson and Morgan’s corpses sat up and ripped the wires from their bodies, while Abigail killed Colbert and Atkins.
    “Hail, Lord Ob,” Thompson croaked, raising his hand in greeting. “I await your orders.”
    “Engastrimathos,” Morgan said. “Du aba paren tares! Hail!”
    “Welcome brothers,” Abigail roared. “We are in the base of operations for a division of Black Lodge. You know what to do.”
    “The hell you will,” Clark said. He charged at them, extinguisher held high, and tried to bash Abigail in the head. She ducked the blow and stepped to the side. Morgan backhanded Clark, knocking him off his feet, and leaving a bright-red handprint on the supervisor’s face. As Clark toppled to the floor, the newly resurrected Colbert climbed out of his seat and picked up the fire extinguisher.
    “Kill that one,” Abigail told Colbert, pointing at Clark.
    “Lord,” Thompson said, “my host body was conducting psychic surveillance on the Kwan. I have their location.”
    “Excellent,” Abigail replied. “We will need to target them next, as well as Genova and the rest of the Seven, Levi Stoltzfus, all divisions of Black Lodge, and anyone else who might disrupt our destruction of this level. As always, if we destroy them first, this world will fall just like the others.”
    While the others talked, Colbert squeezed the handle on the fire extinguisher and blasted Clark in the face with a stream of foam. Sputtering, Clark crab-walked on his hands, trying to escape. The others surrounded him.
    “Leave him alone,” Michele shouted from the doorway. She was terrified and felt helpless and confused.
    “I’ll see to the girl,” Abigail said. “The rest of you finish with this one. I know you are hungry, but remember to leave enough of him intact that the corpse has no mobility difficulties when it reanimates.”
    Abigail took a step toward Michele. Michele backed out into the hall.