The One Where I break up Chapter 5

© Alexander Charles Lomonte and Lomonte’s Lager, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given by Alexander Charles Lomonte and Lomonte’s Lager with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Hey,
I am so sorry for not getting this out faster. As you can tell I have gotten to the point where I have to write the next part. So here is the first part of chapter 5. I am writing the other part right now. I’ll have it out sooner than before. Sorry for spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

DEAD OF NIGHT
By Alex Lomonte

The First Mourning
-Part 1
Germany, 1214

Dmitri Helgound III was in a complete spin, he is standing in front of his long since dead grandfather, who is a growling zombie, staring right at him with hungry eyes. The stillness of the situation was achingly long, no one moved, it was surreal. Everyone involved was waiting for someone or something to make a move.

Vladimir glanced over to the light and noticed the green light to the east was growing brighter. He hoped that the standoff would last long enough for what he thought should happen, actually could happen. He glanced back at the standoff. What seemed like the head zombie was edging ever closer to Dmitri. They were soon just inches apart. The fears that Dmitri had earlier were erased completely, he was lost in the eyes that looked like his, eyes that held the memories of his grandfather, and the threat and smell of death that lingered ever so close to him.

Dmitri wondered what was about to transpire, ‘Would he die right there or would he live to see the daylight? What was going on between the zombie and he? Why was everything so quiet?’

All of a sudden there was a chirp of a bird and then a crow of a rooster, and all of the zombies screeched into the waning moments of night and sprinted off and out of the city. Dmitri Helsgound I brushed by Dmitri III and he spun around to watch where they were headed. He looked as the all ran toward the blackness of the woods. His grandfather looked back and roared off into the night. Just like that the night terror was over, but the nightmare was just beginning.
“Are you okay Dmitri?” Viktor asked him as he grabbed Dmitri’s shoulder with a huge hand.
“Yeah… I’ll be fine,” he replied, and patted the big man’s hand. “I just don’t know what that was or where to go from here.”
“I hear you.”
“So they don’t like the day…” said Vladimir.
“What?” Dmitri asked.
“We know one of their weaknesses. We just need to keep narrowing that down until we can get rid of them,” Vladimir explained.
“Thanks, we can figure that out later, but can we check on the townspeople and our families for now? I need to get my head on straight.” They parted ways and agreed to meet at Dmitri’s house, or what was left of it.

Viktor, who had no family wandered about the streets helping whoever he could, he walked around picked up bodies and moved them to the edges of the streets or to the corners of roads, it was a sad sight and he seemed to make eye contact with everyone who was crying, which only infuriated him more. It made his stomach hurt and pained him so much to see everyone at their weakest moment. He remembered feeling that way when his parents disappeared.

He was a small child and he remembered coming back from Dmitri’s house going to his house only to find that it was burned down and his parents were never found. He had no memory of what they were like and when he was younger he didn’t spend time with them, he was always out around town, either causing trouble or following Dmitri and Vladimir around. Since that day he has always had a soft spot for anyone who is in pain. He had to grow up on his own with no real father or mother to guide him and support him. He lived with Vladimir’s family since then, but always felt secluded.

He grew up always getting in trouble and although he was friends with Dmitri he never got out of any trouble he was caught in. He had been in bar fights at age thirteen, he had fought bare knuckle since he was younger, and he was tough, except when it came to seeing people cry. It was contradictory because he could make someone feel the worst pain in the world, but he would sympathize toward them if they cried.

There he was, in the middle of the city, seeing all the people around him crying. Viktor was a tough man and he kept things inside him, but when he saw an orphaned girl crying for her parents, he wept. He went over to the little girl, no older than three, and picked her up. He held her in his arms and they cried together, for their parents, and for the situation they were in. Viktor swore to himself that he would raise that child and nothing would stop him.

Vladimir sprinted down to the farm he was raised on, he ran through the cramps that were coming up here and there. As he was getting away from town he noticed that the destruction was lessening. The streets were less bloody and there were more people about their normal lives. When he got back to his family farm it looked as if there wasn’t any damage at all. He swung the door open to the barn first because it was morning, when they usually milked the cows, and the whole family would be in there.

He entered the dark, musky barn and as his eyes adjusted to the dim light he didn’t like what he saw. His mother, sister and little brother were kneeled down over his father. Vladimir ran over and knelt next to his father’s head. He looked at what was wrong with his father. His side was gashed open, and blood spilled out with his heartbeat. His leg looked crooked as if it were broken. His arm had another gash in it, almost like a bite mark. He had a hard time breathing. Vladimir was shocked at what he saw because the outside of the farm was nearly perfect; it didn’t look like there was an attack.
“What happened here?” Vladimir asked with a coarse voice.
“Around dusk he was out finishing feeding the chickens when he saw something near the barn. He said he went to investigate and when he got in here there was… there was… Uh… Dmitri’s grandfather in here…” his mother trailed off.
“Only, it wasn’t his grandfather,” his father managed to say. “He was rotting and he growled at me and then screamed and attacked me.” He coughed and went quiet as the family tended to him the best they could. They spent the next half hour in silence as they were with their father in his last minutes on earth. The family wept for their father, they had memories dance in their heads and tears run down their cheeks.

When they couldn’t cry anymore Vladimir and his brother moved the body to his favorite spot to fish and smoke, a grassy knoll near the river that overlooked the hills of Germany. The men dug him a grave and placed him in it. The women in the family brought out a hand made quilt and bouquet of flowers to play over the spot where he lay.

Vladimir had more questions but no time for them to be answered. He had to put his father’s death past him and finish the fight at hand. He was now the man of the family. It was now his job to avenge his father’s death. He had some great information that could help the fight, but needed to get back to Dmitri to tell him about it.

Dmitri had been in a daze the entire morning. He had to walk through the city in which he let his people down, the city was half burnt down and so many people were mourning their lost ones. He knew he could’ve done more to stop this, he knew that it was his fault for not preparing early enough. He had to put on a brave face for the people of the city; he had to lead them by example. However, he was feeling the complete opposite of what he was showing, he was torn inside, he felt bad for everyone that had lost someone and he knew that he was going to lose someone close to him soon.

-Lomonte

Part 2 coming soon…

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