Something else that was as disturbing as the soft chuckling in my head, my sudden ability to communicate telepathically, and the end of civilization was the fact that our immunity to the dead seemed to have been quite temporary. I had been looking forward to not being eaten alive, but it seemed we were not going to get away that easily.

("nothing will be easy for you.")

"Why don't you shut the F**K UP and get out of my head!"

Linda just about swerved off the road at my outburst, and gave me quite a look after she gained control.

"Please, please do not tell me you're starting to freak out on me! That would be the absolute worst thing in the world that could happen to me right now"

I started to reply, but our mysterious friend cut me off.

("i can think of far worse things that could happen to you right now")

The tone of his (voice? or thoughts? did it matter?) set my hair on end. Whoever this creep was his intentions were not in our best interests. Obviously, Linda heard him along with me this time, and her face blanched at the implications.

" I'd say we need to do something about our inhospitable brain squatter, but I'm at a loss for a solution." She gritted her teeth, and began muttering to herself.

"Is he saying something to you? I can't hear him this time,......Linda? Are you O.K.?"

"I'm fine." she hissed through clenched teeth, and began to accelerate the car. "He's telling/showing me some of those things he was talking about."

We drove on for miles in utter silence, and I tried to think of something to do or say. Like normal, nothing appropriate came to mind.

("maybe because its empty in there......you ever consider that?")

Instead of screaming out something, however, I decided to use some of that cold-blooded disipline of mine. I reached out with my mind, and began to feel what could be construed as a box opening. Very disconcerting at first, but after a short while of stumbling I began to gain my orientation.

("HEY SPHINCTER-BOY!...............Oops, didn't mean to yell quite so loud. Where are you my antagonistic little cretin? I want to wrap my mind/hands around your throat! I figure a good throttling will improve your attitude!")

("Hmmmm........ You're certainly a quick learner. Won't do you much good to throttle me though, since you can't kill someone who's already dead................") At that, I got a good view of something in my minds eye. I shudder every time I think of it, groping bloody hands/mouths and hundreds of eyes/teeth? The image is fuzzy, like its purposely out of focus, but the sheer horror of it is crystal clear. It began to envelope me, rending my mind...devouring my flesh....tearinggulpingbitingscreamingwhisperingburning..........At the edge of my consciousness, I became aware of a dull sound, droning on without inflection. As my consumption continued, the sound began to gain in pitch, and I recognized it for a human scream. Several seconds later I realized it was me.

"WAKE UP!" Screamed Linda, slamming the brakes on, sending us skidding into the ditch. I figure the jolt must've saved my life, because I was ripped (or let go?) from its grasp and thrown back to full awareness. I wouldn't recommend the experience to my worst enemy.

"What in the hell happened to you!?" she yelled "You were sitting there sleeping, and then you were screaming like the hounds of hell had you! What's going on! WHAT'S GOING ON?!?"

"I think I just met our friend Linda." I whispered, and began to shake uncontrollably. In our thoughts we could hear the soft chuckling again, only this time it was much louder. Almost like he was in the back seat.......

("I'm closer than you think.......")
--MHal9000

 That's strange....I noticed a flash of a smile in Linda's eye. It was something I picked up in my former life (oh what it was to be fully alive again to be able to sense all I could before...), watching people die sensitises one to the expression held within the depths of people's eyes.

The ability to read fear, joy, anger...
--Mustapha Baboo

"Can't we do something about this?" Queried Linda, "I mean, this is getting real old real quick!"

(You won't live long enough to get old........)

"Maybe if we concentrate on something else....."

[loud music]

"What the hell was that now? Another voice? What the f*#k is going on?!"

" I don't know, but I think I'll try his suggestion"

Somehow I had managed to keep that same Nine Inch Nails tape with me, surviving car wrecks, my zombification, electrocution and subsequent return to life, and now our trip out of the city. Linda shot me a dirty look when she saw what the tape was, but seemed relieved when the music started and our "friend" stopped talking to us.

"So now what?" yelled Linda. "Do we listen to this garbage for the rest of our lives?"

I shot her a quick smirk, glad to see her mood beginning to lighten some.

"I need to think about what happened to me back there, see if I can get a handle on whatever I was doing." Besides, if we continued to talk at this level, my vocal cords would be shredded in no time. I began to focus on the box I had felt before, but now it seemed fuzzy, and out of reach. Maybe because we couldn't hear our friend anymore? I knuckled down more, straining to feel the box, and begin to understand what was going on. This was where I usually excelled, feeling out something without any instructions. Normally, you could write out instructions in big block letters, with stick figure illustrations and it wouldn't do me a lick of good. I needed to get my hands dirty, make a few mistakes before I could really understand it.

That quirk about cost me my ass when I first began my former career as a hit man. Obviously, I worked my way through it, and now I was determined to do the same here. A great need to wrap my hands around the throat, assuming he/it had one, of our tormentor was beginning to fuel my rage.
--MHal9000

  -click- -click- -click- I awoke from a half doze, strange when did I fall asleep?

(It's been a couple hours)

Huh? Oh, he was back. I resisted the urge to scream, reaching for the tape player. We'd fallen asleep even with it on, that says a lot for being tired. I could faintly remember pulling off the road after nearly crashing...again.

I glanced over at Linda, curled up on her side in the inclined bucket seat, one hand curled under her cheek. Poor thing. The thought struck me and I blinked at myself. Pity...I didn't think I had that anymore.
--Jena Rey

A little while ago, Janice Newton sent an addition to this story, but due to e-mail problems I didn't recieve it until after the plot had taken another direction (Sorry, Janice). Still, you are welcome read her story section.

What happens next? You decide. Write a sentence, write a paragraph then send it to me and I will add it to the story.