Pawns: The Cage (a short story)

Written by Zombie Theology

His world awakened in blurry shadows and nonsensical sounds. The throbbing in his head was gradually lessening from a jackhammer to a rubber mallet, and a strange, sweet smell attacked his nose and lungs with every labored breath.

As the shapes coalesced, he recognized the room immediately. He should recognize it; he had helped to design and build it. He saw the control panel, the computer monitors, the sliding doors, the overhead lighting; he knew it was all controlled through a sophisticated wireless network – another one of his creations.

Slowly the sounds also came together into something recognizable – or almost recognizable. It was a man half-humming, half-singing. He probably could have placed the song if the man could carry a tune. For some reason, he couldn’t decide if the song was English or Jamaican…

“There’s a little black spot on the sun today. It’s the same old thing as yesterday. There’s a black hat caught in a high tree top. There’s a flag pole rag and the wind won’t stop.”

As he drifted back into unconsciousness, the voice continued its monotone assault…

(You can read the rest of this story here.)

we at zombietheology.com pray for your sanity and survival in these dark days