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Rebirth of the Soul (WIP)

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Rebirth of the Soul (WIP) Empty Rebirth of the Soul (WIP)

Post by Machine Man Tue Aug 22, 2017 7:23 pm

What is it like to die? There's been a lot of theories and hypothesis about circling that question, and no one is embarrassed to say that they know nothing about it. No one knows the answer, because the only way to know what it's like to die is to die. I used to say that there was no coming back from that, but things change. Here we are in the twenty-first century, anything is possible, right? Apparently being dead is no longer a long-term commitment.

How do I know this? That's easy. It's because I died. I know, it's hard to swallow, but I can prove it.

September 9th, 2016. Knoxville, Tennessee. Motorcycle accident. Feel free to look it up... i'll wait.

I was late for work, cruising across Interstate 40 on my Can-am Spyder. Granted I was going a lot faster than I should have been, but again... late for work. I looked over my shoulder to change lanes, so I didn't see that the tractor trailer in front of me ran over a large piece of tire and flung it right at me. Came off the bike and got run over, finally sliding and rolling to the shoulder.

Even though I was in full leathers and wearing a full helmet, I was in bad shape. Externally I was pretty torn up, but inside I had sustained heavy trauma. They airlifted me to the university hospital, but I died just after we landed. I was a goner before they even put me on the stretcher, but they had to try. I remember blanking in and out on the whole ride there, but then we touched down, and the feeling of numbness filled my body. I felt nothing, literally. Body went numb, but my mind was screaming. I knew what was coming, and even though i didn't feel the pain of my crushed bones and broken organs, I was screaming inside my own head to stay alive.

Everything went cold and dark... felt like i'd fallen asleep. Imagine my surprise when I woke up in a recovery room. When the initial shock wore off, I figured they must have shocked me back to life or something, got me stable enough for surgery. I was relieved until I looked out the window and noticed it was snowing. 'Must've been in a coma' I thought. I wish that were true. Over the next few days they ran test after test after test, but they didn't tell me what was really going on for about two weeks, during which I was not allowed to contact my family and did not have any visitors.

That's when they told me the truth. I had actually been dead for four months. No heart beat. No breathing. Nothing. Apparently they had pushed a drug through my body that sort of suspended me in time. I wasn't alive, that much they were sure of. I was dead. But I didn't decay. I hadn't had any signs of life until I woke up in that room.

I guess that makes me a zombie. Just glad i'm not mindless and eating brains. People ask me all the time what the afterlife was like, and what I experienced before I woke up. Nothing to tell them really... it was just like taking a nap.

Now you'd think that's where the freaky part of the story ends, but you'd be wrong. That's only half the story.

<to be continued...>


Last edited by Machine Man on Wed Aug 23, 2017 10:07 pm; edited 1 time in total

Machine Man
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Post by Machine Man Wed Aug 23, 2017 7:11 pm

After a few weeks of tests and being almost completely confined to my bed, they finally let me start moving around a bit more. It turned the place was a lot bigger than I had imagined; a whole lot bigger. The building itself was pretty large, but the campus spanned multiple acres. The more I looked around, the more I felt like I was staying on a military base rather than a hospital. Traffic seemed to be heavily monitored, and there were guard posts all over the grounds. The doctor's, when I asked them about the beefy security, just told me that it was a precaution. They didn't know exactly how we would react to this process long-term, so they were there to keep us, and others, safe until they could figure out everything else.

I knew it was mostly bullshit, just an automated response they had memorized to keep us from looking too much further into it. A normal person would probably have been fooled, but somehow I knew they were lying. It didn't stop there, either. I started to notice more about people when I talked to them. Just looking at them, or being near them felt normal, but if we were talking, when I could look them in the eye, I could feel when they were telling the truth and when they were lying. It was really strange, and I felt like a freak.

Well it turned out that I wasn't the only one. Turns out that every zombie could do it, some better than others. That's when things got bad. Once the doctors found out, suddenly I was on lock-down again. Everything was scrutinized. We lived under a microscope for a few months while they tried to figure out what was happening and why. I'd never felt so bereft of privacy before that time.


Last edited by Machine Man on Wed Aug 23, 2017 10:09 pm; edited 1 time in total

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Post by Machine Man Wed Aug 23, 2017 7:21 pm

I was so hungry it was ridiculous.

I remember sitting there, feeling like I was wasting away, even though I was eating enough to feed a small army. Everything tasted like... nothing. There was no flavor in anything I ate. I forced myself to consume what they gave us but really... tasted like cardboard. The doctors were concerned because I was loosing energy. My head felt cloudy all the time.

Eventually though, things got better. I didn't know if they just finally hired a decent chef who knew how to use salt, or if they maybe just finally started stocking herbs and spices in their pantries, but the food got better overnight. For the first day I just pretty much ate the entire day. Even I thought it was weird; i'd never eaten so much in one day. Felt pretty good though, to feel full again. My energy came back and my thoughts cleared. I felt like me again.

Imagine how sick I felt when I found out the secret ingredient was people.

Machine Man
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Post by Machine Man Thu Aug 24, 2017 1:54 pm

Looking back on it, that time on campus made me have a lot of bad days. I remember one morning I was awoken to a horrible noise. It sounded like some kind of demon, and it was loud! It howled and roared and shrieked like it was in pain and I remember my heart just sank. Whatever made that sound wasn't human, but I couldn't imagine a zombie doing it either. We all displayed the same abilities... why would one be different now?

A group of men and women suddenly burst into my room, some of them armed and in full tactical gear. They told me they everything was fine but they were lying. I didn't really fight them over it through. Whatever made that sound was scary as hell and I wanted no part of it.

They escorted me out of that building and into another, more like a bunker than a lab or hospital. Even while they moved me, and others, across the grounds, I could still hear it. Every sound it made sent shivers down my spine. Thankfully they hurried us inside and shut the door before I had to listen to another screech.

They didn't have separate rooms for us in that building, just one large common area. Normally it would have been nice to maybe socialize a little, especially since i hadn't seen any of them in a while. But I think mostly we were just too freaked out by what we'd heard to talk much, other than "What do you think it is?" All I could do is hope that I didn't have to hear it again.

Machine Man
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Post by Machine Man Thu Aug 24, 2017 7:01 pm

You know... one of my favorite things about being dead is no cancer. It's great, because I can smoke as much as I want and not feel like crap. Of course i'd smell like an old ash tray but that's beside the point. It also helps to pass the time, seeing as how zombies don't sleep and everything. I actually kind of miss sleeping, just being able to blink your eyes and suddenly six hours has gone by. Don't get me wrong, I get a lot more done, but I remember how good it felt to wake up on a Sunday morning, no alarms, no buzzers, no deadlines. Just a cup of coffee and sports on the TV.

Nowadays it almost feels like i'm on the clock all the time. It's great not having to sit at a desk for forty hours every week, but days off kind of went the same way as sleep. Always being on call makes you afraid to do anything you like, because there's no telling when you're going to get that call. I used to play golf, go to movies, go to concerts. But ever since I rejoined the living, I haven't done much of any of those things, if at all. Nothing would suck worse to be halfway through a Green Day concert then have to leave on a call.

Oh well. I'm dead, so I suppose i'll be around when it changes.

Machine Man
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