Jim wandered the empty streets of Atlanta, his footsteps echoing off the decayed remnants of a world gone wrong. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of death, mingled with the faint, coppery tang of blood that lingered like a persistent ghost. Around him, the city stretched out in eerie silence, its once-bustling streets now littered with abandoned cars, shattered glass, and the occasional shambling walker.
The walkers were grotesque in their decay. One wore the tattered remains of a business suit, its tie dangling uselessly over a chest cavity partially exposed. Another shuffled past in a floral sundress, now caked with grime and torn at the seams, revealing mottled, rotting flesh beneath. Their cloudy eyes stared vacantly, and their mouths hung open, releasing the occasional groan as if lamenting their own grotesque existence.
But Jim saw them differently now. They weren't threats, not to him. They were opportunities.
His nostrils flared as he caught a familiar scent, faint yet potent. It was intoxicating, cutting through the rot like a lifeline. It was Murphy. Even though Murphy was miles away, Jim could smell him—his unique, tantalizing aroma acting like a beacon. Jim's stomach twisted with hunger, his mouth watering at the thought.
Ahead, a lone walker stumbled near a wrecked car, its gait uneven as it navigated the debris. This one wore a plaid shirt and jeans, its left shoe missing to reveal a skeletal foot dragging across the pavement. The creature groaned softly, its head tilting slightly as Jim approached.
He paused, his fingers twitching at his sides. The hunger gnawed at him, sharp and insistent, and the walker's presence only amplified it.
"Easy prey," Jim muttered, his lips curling into a grim smile. His feet carried him forward almost involuntarily, closing the distance between him and the walker. The creature didn't react as Jim reached out, his hands steady as he grabbed its shoulders.
"Let's see how you taste," he whispered.
Jim sank his teeth into the walker's neck, the flesh giving way with a sickening squelch. The taste was bitter and rancid, the metallic tang of old blood coating his tongue. His face twisted with a mixture of disgust and satisfaction as he chewed, his eyes wide with the thrill of it. When he stepped back, the walker crumpled to the ground, groaning faintly as it tried to rise.
Jim crouched over the walker, his knife flashing in the dim light as he began to cut into its arm. The limb separated with a gruesome snap, yet the walker continued to groan and writhe, its cloudy eyes fixed on Jim as though it were aware of him. He tossed the severed arm aside, then leaned closer, biting into the shoulder this time. Each bite abated the gnawing void inside him, but it never truly disappeared.
The walker remained animated, its body twitching and convulsing as Jim worked. He carved chunks of flesh from its torso, the sickly smell of decay mingling with the faint sizzle of nearby fire as Jim dragged the body toward an alley. There, among the debris, he found a rusted grill.
Using a lighter he'd scavenged earlier, Jim lit a small fire and began roasting the chunks of walker flesh. The scent of burning meat filled the air, drawing him closer to the makeshift feast. He took a bite, wincing at the texture but feeling a grim satisfaction as the hunger subsided. For now.
As Jim chewed, he became aware of movement at the edge of the alley. Another walker appeared, this one wearing the remains of a nurse's uniform, the once-pristine white fabric now gray with grime and splattered with dried blood. Its hair hung in clumps, and one of its arms was twisted at an unnatural angle.
Jim stood, his eyes narrowing as he watched the walker stagger closer. The hunger flared anew, sharp and insistent. He approached it cautiously, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out. This time, he bit into its arm, his teeth sinking deep into the decaying flesh before pulling away.
The walker didn't attack. It swayed slightly, its head tilting as if waiting. Jim stepped back, his brow furrowing.
"Why aren't you fighting?" he muttered, his voice thick with confusion.
Suddenly, the world around him blurred, replaced by a blinding light. A deep, resonant voice echoed in his mind, commanding and divine.
"Do not finish them. Let them live. They are your flock, Prophet. Spread the gospel and gather more. You are chosen to bring order to the chaos."
The vision ended abruptly, leaving Jim gasping for breath. He staggered, his hands gripping the wall for support. When he looked back at the walker, something had changed. Its movements were less jerky, its posture straighter. Its eyes... they held a faint spark of awareness.
"Holy shit," Jim whispered, his voice a mix of awe and horror. "This is it. This is what He meant."
He stepped closer, his heart pounding as the walker's gaze followed him. Tentatively, Jim reached out with his thoughts, willing the creature to move.
"Walk," he commanded softly, his voice trembling.
The walker obeyed, its steps slow but deliberate as it moved further into the alley. Jim's lips parted in a triumphant smile, his eyes gleaming with a newfound purpose.
"You're mine now," he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. "And you're going to help me gather more."
Jim stepped out of the alley, his posture straighter than it had been in days. The grimy streets of Atlanta stretched before him, littered with shattered glass, rusted cars, and the silent reminders of a world long gone. His face was pale, gaunt from hunger, yet his eyes gleamed with purpose. He had finally figured it out. God had chosen him for this mission—a mission to rebuild, to bring order to chaos.
"I am the prophet," Jim muttered to himself, his voice steady but laced with conviction. "This is my destiny."
Beside him, the nurse walker shuffled, its head tilted slightly as if awaiting his next command. The remnants of its uniform clung to its rotting frame, the once-white fabric now a grim tapestry of bloodstains and decay. Its eyes, cloudy and lifeless, seemed to flicker with faint recognition when Jim glanced at it.
Jim reached out with his thoughts, focusing on the walker. He could feel a connection now, a thread tying them together. "Go," he commanded silently, watching as the walker turned toward another figure in the distance—a man in a tattered hoodie, his jeans torn and caked with grime. The second walker moved aimlessly, its movements slow and disjointed.
The nurse walker staggered forward, closing the distance. Jim watched intently, a faint smile tugging at his lips as the nurse grabbed the other walker. Its teeth sank into the hoodie's shoulder, tearing into the flesh with a wet, ripping sound. The second walker shuddered but didn't resist. Instead, it began to straighten, its movements growing more deliberate.
Then Jim heard it. A voice, soft at first, almost imperceptible. But it grew louder, distinct.
"Please… stop this…"
Jim's smile faltered, his brow furrowing. "Who said that?" he asked, his voice sharp as he looked around.
"Me," the voice replied, faint and echoing in his mind. He stared at the newly infected walker, whose head turned slightly toward him. "Kill me. End this. I can't control it. Please… show mercy."
Jim's expression softened. He stepped closer, his voice taking on a soothing tone. "Be at ease now," he said. "You're part of something greater. Part of my flock. Together, we'll rebuild this world into something new, something better."
The voice seemed to fade, replaced by a faint sense of calm. Jim smiled again, this time with genuine warmth. "Your sins are forgiven," he murmured. "You couldn't control yourself. The hunger… it's not your fault. And now, you'll help me spread the gospel."
Jim spent the next hour experimenting, his mind racing with possibilities. He ordered the two walkers to split up, watching as they moved toward other stragglers in the streets. A walker in a tattered suit—its tie dangling loosely, its left arm missing—was the next target. As the infected approached it, Jim felt the now-familiar connection bloom in his mind. The suit walker paused, its lifeless eyes locking onto him.
"What have I done?" the suit walker's voice echoed in his thoughts. "I was… I was someone. Please… end this."
Jim shook his head, his smile unwavering. "You're someone still," he said aloud, his tone gentle yet firm. "A part of my flock now. Your regrets, your sins… they're behind you. You have a purpose again."
The suit walker straightened, its head bowing slightly as if in acknowledgment. Jim laughed softly, a low, satisfied sound that echoed through the empty street.
"Spread out," he commanded, his voice carrying an almost reverent authority. "Find others. Bring them into the fold. Together, we'll make this world whole again."
The walkers obeyed, shuffling off in different directions. Jim watched them go, his heart swelling with pride. They moved with a purpose now, their shambling gait more coordinated, their heads turning as if scanning for potential recruits.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the crumbling city, Jim sat on the steps of an abandoned church. His hands rested on his knees, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The voices in his mind grew louder, a cacophony of pleas and confessions.
"I hurt my family."
"I stole from my neighbor."
"I abandoned my child."
Jim closed his eyes, his expression serene. "It's all forgiven," he whispered. "You're free now. Free to be part of something greater."
One of the walkers—a woman in a torn floral dress, her bare feet scraped and bloodied—approached him. She paused at the base of the steps, her head tilting as she stared up at him. Her voice, soft and trembling, reached his mind.
"What happens now?"
Jim smiled, his eyes opening to meet hers. "Now we spread the gospel. We bring others into the fold. Together, we'll rebuild."
The walker nodded, her movements slow but deliberate. Jim stood, his hands spreading wide as he addressed her and the other walkers gathering around him.
"This world was broken," he said, his voice carrying with an almost divine authority. "But we'll fix it. We'll make it stronger. Better. The hunger you feel… it's not a curse. It's a gift. And together, we'll use it to cleanse this place, to make it whole again."
He moved closer to the floral-dress walker, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. She shivered slightly at his touch but didn't recoil.
"You will carry the message to others. Show them the truth. Show them that there is purpose in hunger. It binds us, unites us. Through it, we will rise above the chaos."
The walkers groaned softly in response, their voices a low, haunting chorus. Jim felt a thrill of exhilaration. This was his mission. His calling. And he would see it through to the end.