Aberrant: Dead Rising - A Dead New World [DR ending] [complete]

[BlueNinja]

Uncertain time and date, sometime after 2400 AD

The body hung on a meat hook. Insects weren't a problem here. He just hung there, eyes glazed, limp and naked with his toes barely dragging on the floor. The 'chef' (if you could grant him so lofty a title) shuffled up to him, teeth bare behind lips half rotted away. Lifting a blade dull from years of this work, it grasped one arm, lifting it away from the body. Setting the knife, it tried to slice away part of the forearm. The blade slipped off, raising sparks against the crumbling cement wall.

With a growl, the zombie moved closer to the body, bracing his arm under its own, then tried the other way as the human body swung on the hook. It took several hard jerks, but finally the zombie was satisfied. It walked away, out of the kitchen with a bloody knife and half of a forearm. Unnoticed, the body swung back and forth for a moment, then sagged to one side. The fingers on the cut arm twitched spasmodically, then with a quiet snap, he tore free of the hook and collapsed on the floor.

For what felt like the first time in years, he blinked. Whimpering, he cradled the bleeding arm to his chest, wincing at the sight of his own bones. Tiny sparks of golden light started dancing across the surface, and layer by layer his muscles and skin rebuilt themselves. Drawing a shaky breath, Adam stood up, leaning heavily on the steel kitchen counter. He was trembling, and though he could still feel his powers somewhere deep inside of him, their conscious use eluded him. He staggered sideways, towards the rusted fire exit door. He pushed on it, then tried thumping his shoulder into it, but the door refused to budge. He leaned against the door, tears running down his face, and he couldn't figure out why. Where was he, how did he get here? He couldn't remember, or maybe wouldn't remember. All he knew was that he had to get out of here.

A moan came from behind him, and despite himself Adam realized he understood the zombie. "What are you doing? Get back up there!" Not as distinct as that, of course, more concept than language. Turning, he looked at the zombie. Then without a word, he reached forward, and calmly incinerated its head in a brilliant globe of golden fire. It thumped to the floor, and for the first time, Adam realized he was naked. Grunting, he rolled the corpse over, removing its clothes. The jeans were a tight fit, and the bra he had no use for, but it still gave him at least the illusion of humanity. Shaking his head, he clawed lank hair over his face, and then shuffled out through the other door. Somehow, he managed to make it out to the street without any of the other zombies noticing him, he thought.

Outside, it was night. The stars of the Milky Way were a luminous road across the heavens, and a half-full moon gave more than enough light to see. The streets were more gravel than asphalt, and half-repaired buildings mixed with the time-aged wreckage of those abandoned. He picked his way northward a few blocks, then stopped at the top of the hill and stared forward. Below him was San Francisco, and the Golden Gate Bridge - half of it, at least - glittered in the moonlight. Hearing a scrape behind him, he looked over his shoulder. Zombies had started emerging from their houses, and were coming towards him, their hunger overriding whatever semblance of intelligence they had gained in ... how long was it?

Shaking his head, Adam pounded a fist against his temple. He wasn't sure he could take on a horde like that, not anymore. He blinked harshly, and the world changed as his eyes clicked over from visible light to infrared. The city below was a rough blob of color, all the same, except for one spot off to the east. Adam started moving in that direction before conscious thought caught up with him. What was over there? Golden Gate park, maybe? A flash of memory struck him, a ten year old Rebecca throwing a frisbee at him while his Gramps stood laughing at them from under a eucalyptus tree. He tripped over his own feet and lay there a moment, lassitude too recent a companion. He fought it off, regaining his feet and stumbling forward before the nearest zombie could reach him.

More of them were appearing down the side streets, almost as though they were passing the message along. Yet, the way before him came clear. It was a few blocks before Adam nodded decisively. It was a trap, of course - even at his best, he would only have taken out a block or two of zombies, and they had the whole goddamn city to infest. So, might as well find out what was up ahead, and then take as many of the chewies with him before they brought him down.

The edge of the park had expanded somewhat, grass and shrubs growing wild across the streets, hundred foot tall trees with their roots cracking the sidewalk. He stepped onto the grass, his feet still bare, and almost wept with the pleasure of feeling something growing at last. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a line of zombies, halted exactly at the edge of the grassline. Several of them were moaning ("Come back!" "Feed us!" "Wait!" and more, jumbled together on the midnight breeze) and reaching out unconsciously for him, but none would take that first step onto the grass.

Turning his back on the horde, he went resolutely into the forest. Once under the trees, it was blacker than the Mirage's basement (and that brought up a new nightmare, one that left him crying and curled up on the fallen leaves), but he managed to walk, crawl, and stumble forward until the moonlight came out again and he looked up. Before him was the Japanese Tea Gardens, perfectly immaculate and well-kept. He blinked several times, then turned to bang his forehead into an oak tree a few times, but the building remained.

He walked forward, resting a hand on the polished rail as he climbed the stairs. Somewhere in the dark, his eyes had gone back to normal, but he didn't have enough emotion to find it strange right now. I'm in shock, he thought, and stopped with one foot in the air to consider it. Yes, he was. Did it make a difference? Not that he could see right now. He continued up the stairs. The sliding door was closed, and he pulled it gently open, stepping through inside the building.

The courtyard within had been changed, somewhat. No plants grew in here. A chair (throne, a quiet voice in the corner of his mind corrected) was erected in the middle, and on it sat a shadowed figure. It raised a hand, and a soft, electric light came to life, illuminating him. "Dave?" he croaked out, his voice rough from disuse, and several moments went by as he coughed and tried to clear his throat.

"Yes, Adam, it's me." The zombie leaned forward, and waved a three-fingered hand. "How do you like my new empire? Coast to coast, arctic circle down to Panama, every zombie in North America answers to me." He looked down, something possibly like pity entering the cataract-covered eyes. "Why did you have to get off the hook again?"

"Again?" Adam asked. Memories stabbed at him, and he fell to his knees, screaming. Zombie-Julia, cut down before she even became a teenager, holding one arm still while another dozen zombies lifted him, driving the hook into the base of his skull, severing the spinal column so that all he could do was hang there, and watch, and listen, until he turned off his senses to protect what little remained of his sanity.

He regained his feet, and looked up. His eyes were no longer blue, but a brilliant golden, shining brightly from the gaunt hollows of his face. "So, you rule the continent. Why?"

Zombie-Dave smiled, a rictus grin of blackened teeth and half-chewed-away lips. "My people must eat, Adam. I mean, we are God's plague on humanity, which your pitiful race must survive God only knows how long of, before He finally ushers in the return of Jesus and brings about Paradise." The grin became even worse, if possible, and Zombie-Dave stepped down from the throne. "Or, of course, He already did. Certainly, I'd consider this paradise. Farms full of humans, being raised and fed oh so carefully, so that we can claim every last delicious morsel of manna. Fear is such a delicious spice, so much better than futile hope."

Dave circled Adam as the man stood there, broken memories and razor-sharp thoughts whirling about in his mind. "And now, it's time for you to go back up the hill, to my restaurant. You are quite a delicacy. I mean, the very last of the supers, I certainly can't allow a prize like you to just wander around, free for anyone to take a bite out of!" The three-fingered hand clamped down on Adam's shoulder, enough force in it to bend steel.

For a moment, Adam almost did. Then his hand clenched into a fist, and golden light illuminated the courtyard. "I'll make sure we've got neighboring seats in hell, Dave," he said, and released his hand.

Years later, historians of the Last Uprising chronicled the holy vision that started their final, successful, fight back against the undead. A brilliant light, visible all the way on the Atlantic coast, and the new Gulf of Light stretching two hundred miles wide on the coast of California.