Free The Ghosts of the Zombie Apocalypse by Greg Kayes Page A

acknowledging something but when someone listened, there was an observation going on. When someone took the time to observe, it meant that they were studying, looking for flaws, weaknesses, patterns that they could use later or elsewhere. Looking for the perfect time and place to strike and get what they wanted or needed. Such people are terrifying when you realize at just how much power observations really held.
      To Mike's advantage at knowing all this he made sure to say as little as possible, unfortunately this also completely gave him away. But he knew that this was the only option that he could take. The position on frivolous speaking had been easily established that it would also be a terminal one. So with no hope for any alternative he followed the Masters lead and listened. After all, there was so much freedom in listening especially when the main freedom was that you still had a body to listen with.
      But besides all that, the worst part of all this was the screams. For the last two days Mike has done nothing else but tell stories and follow the Master around as he stalked down all the fallen ghosts frozen in their place. The sight of him eating each one was so gruesome that Mike had to turn away each time as stray pieces floated away from the scene of the ghostly slaughter. It was something he just couldn't get use to despite having witnessed countless zombie survivor raids.
      But the very worst part was that all the fallen ghosts recognized Mike. Their faces would light up instantly at the sight that someone had found them on top of the fact that it was the story master himself who had found them. And they would be so elated...right up to the part that they were eviscerated. Their screams of disbelieve were enough to make him scorn his former cherished title.
      Mike didn't believe in Heaven or Hell after he became a ghost a while mainly because he thought "Well this must be it." But being stuck in this slave bound psychological torture with no idea if there could be anything after this ghostly death, if the master ate him here and now...Well he might as well admit that this Hell was as real as Hell could get.
     
      It was beginning to feel like a mistake coming back to the city. It wasn't even a city anymore, not after the fires finally died out. All that was left was a series of collapsed husks of what looked as if it could have been some buildings at one time. It looked like an alien landscape compared to the familiar city Henrietta spent most of her life as well as the better part of her death.
      After a day or so of wandering through the chard wastes Henrietta found a few fallen ghosts in a group. They were all huddled in one spot not moving or talking much and looking as if they were malnourished if that kinda thing were possible. When she approached they all rushed at her hungrily and eager for stories, gossip, anything really as they had no one to talk to but each other. It quickly became apparent that they had exhausted all their own stories days ago.
      The display made her a bit uneasy but she stayed for a short while and told them a story of when she was at the city’s pond when her corpse chased an angry goose around until her corpse caught it. After she finished talking they acted as if they got a drug fix then proceeded to tell the others about the story they just heard her tell oblivious to the fact that she was standing right there. Feeling disturbed she quietly left without a word before the others finished talking over each other in the retelling of her story. She found more groups but after the fifth group she stopped trying to interact with anyone and avoided the groups altogether.
      Occasionally she found a solitary corpse with a follower. They acted different than she remembered. They were defensive and ornery at the sight of her probably because she looked like another fallen. They shouted obscenities at her nonstop for her to go away. When she left without a fuss it seemed to