Nightmare of the Dead: Rise of the Zombies Read Online Free Page A
Author: Vincenzo Bilof
inconsequential words of others. Her desires were paramount; she understood her son would do anything to make her happy.
Another fool who doesn't understand your vision. How can you make him understand? He sees the failures of his patriotic ideal and is angry that he no longer knows why he's dying. Out of ignorance and spite, he will kill you, or at least have you killed. Tonight. You won't survive this place.
Saul strained to hear Buford's words. The man was insulting him, spitting thick curses through his teeth while his head seemed to shake from the effort. His scarlet eyes bulged.
Just like the others. He doesn't understand you. He's mocking you. You won't do anything about it. You're a coward. You'll hide behind your experiment, and it's going to fail, anyway. You keep running away…
The scientist waved his hands in the air and screamed. Mother's relentless assault continued. He slammed his palms against the side of his head. A ritualistic engagement designed to shatter any semblance of confidence established by his gift for experimentation upon corpuscular flesh; his Mother never let him forget that he could never rise to his sister's heights.
They're all watching you, now. They hate you, and they're plotting to kill you. One of them will surely do it, tonight. Even if you survive, the Nightmare Collective will never allow you to be a member of their group—the project will fail. When President Davis is gone, the Collective won't have anyone else to manipulate. When you fail, the Collective will lose its power in this country. You...
"Let them plot!" he screamed into her pale, expressionless face. He whirled back on Buford and pointed a gnarled finger at the suffering soldier. "While I appreciate your concerns, it is my duty to remind you of the importance our esteemed president has placed on my mission. Whether or not you agree is hardly worth consideration. Consider the ruminations of Aristotle or Pythagoras regarding the matter! The flowers in the garden can grow only by the light of the moon. The glow…the glow…you must see as I see, feel as I feel, to know my pain. Do you laugh at Mother? Why would you laugh? She's the most beautiful woman in the world…"
The sergeant's mouth remained open while Saul continued to rage. The scientist seemed to slide around the bloody table as he spoke, dancing nimbly over the scattered limbs decorating the floor.
Tonight, they will kill you.
Saul roared. "Tonight, I will meet with Santiago! We will see the fruit of our labors! Deign not to persecute this humble flesh! Let the Collective see! The prodigal child hath come, arisen upon the air in a chariot of bone and mottled flesh, demoniac wings beating at a burning sky. Such is the art of war! Sergeant! Deliver the materials unto me! Allow for the commencement of peace on Ea rth…"
He seemed to wither beneath the weight of his own rage. His energy subsided, and he crouched at the feet of the wheelchair until finally sitting down among the appendages.
Rocking back and forth on his haunches, the infamous battle song raced out of his mouth , “ Our flag is proudly floating on the land and on the main…"
They're laughing at you. They'll always laugh at you, and you deserve it…
May 19th, 1863: Long Night of Day
She'd saved the last round in the cylinder for the train's conductor.
When the fight was finally over, she stepped off the train and sat for a long moment on the tracks, allowing the locomotive to shade her against the sun's light. The fresh air was a welcome relief to her lungs. The adrenaline crashed through her system, and she nearly forgot to change the cylinder on her gun. As if she'd been shocked by an awful truth, she quickly reloaded her gun and sat with the freshly-loaded weapon on her knee.
While her heart drummed against her rib cage, her ears felt incredibly hot. Her eyelids were heavy, and her eyes resisted all movement. Her tense muscles locked her body into a rigid
Another fool who doesn't understand your vision. How can you make him understand? He sees the failures of his patriotic ideal and is angry that he no longer knows why he's dying. Out of ignorance and spite, he will kill you, or at least have you killed. Tonight. You won't survive this place.
Saul strained to hear Buford's words. The man was insulting him, spitting thick curses through his teeth while his head seemed to shake from the effort. His scarlet eyes bulged.
Just like the others. He doesn't understand you. He's mocking you. You won't do anything about it. You're a coward. You'll hide behind your experiment, and it's going to fail, anyway. You keep running away…
The scientist waved his hands in the air and screamed. Mother's relentless assault continued. He slammed his palms against the side of his head. A ritualistic engagement designed to shatter any semblance of confidence established by his gift for experimentation upon corpuscular flesh; his Mother never let him forget that he could never rise to his sister's heights.
They're all watching you, now. They hate you, and they're plotting to kill you. One of them will surely do it, tonight. Even if you survive, the Nightmare Collective will never allow you to be a member of their group—the project will fail. When President Davis is gone, the Collective won't have anyone else to manipulate. When you fail, the Collective will lose its power in this country. You...
"Let them plot!" he screamed into her pale, expressionless face. He whirled back on Buford and pointed a gnarled finger at the suffering soldier. "While I appreciate your concerns, it is my duty to remind you of the importance our esteemed president has placed on my mission. Whether or not you agree is hardly worth consideration. Consider the ruminations of Aristotle or Pythagoras regarding the matter! The flowers in the garden can grow only by the light of the moon. The glow…the glow…you must see as I see, feel as I feel, to know my pain. Do you laugh at Mother? Why would you laugh? She's the most beautiful woman in the world…"
The sergeant's mouth remained open while Saul continued to rage. The scientist seemed to slide around the bloody table as he spoke, dancing nimbly over the scattered limbs decorating the floor.
Tonight, they will kill you.
Saul roared. "Tonight, I will meet with Santiago! We will see the fruit of our labors! Deign not to persecute this humble flesh! Let the Collective see! The prodigal child hath come, arisen upon the air in a chariot of bone and mottled flesh, demoniac wings beating at a burning sky. Such is the art of war! Sergeant! Deliver the materials unto me! Allow for the commencement of peace on Ea rth…"
He seemed to wither beneath the weight of his own rage. His energy subsided, and he crouched at the feet of the wheelchair until finally sitting down among the appendages.
Rocking back and forth on his haunches, the infamous battle song raced out of his mouth , “ Our flag is proudly floating on the land and on the main…"
They're laughing at you. They'll always laugh at you, and you deserve it…
May 19th, 1863: Long Night of Day
She'd saved the last round in the cylinder for the train's conductor.
When the fight was finally over, she stepped off the train and sat for a long moment on the tracks, allowing the locomotive to shade her against the sun's light. The fresh air was a welcome relief to her lungs. The adrenaline crashed through her system, and she nearly forgot to change the cylinder on her gun. As if she'd been shocked by an awful truth, she quickly reloaded her gun and sat with the freshly-loaded weapon on her knee.
While her heart drummed against her rib cage, her ears felt incredibly hot. Her eyelids were heavy, and her eyes resisted all movement. Her tense muscles locked her body into a rigid
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