Content/Epitaph

The sun was shining bright outside the windows near the roof of the factory, but inside was nonetheless dark and dreary, with shadows on all sides from which unsettling groaning noises were emanating. With the exception of a sand golem, Zoey was alone in the middle of the otherwise empty factory, or so she could tell. It would not be for long.

From out of the shadows in front of her shambled a lone zombie. Instinctively Zoey moved her right arm up and behind her head, ready signal an order to her golem to attack the undead creature approaching. But then she froze. When it emerged from the darkness, it had appeared no different from any other minion of the vile Necromancer. But now? Now she noticed details on what remained of the rotting face that were uncannily familiar.

No. It couldn't be, could it?

That girl had played with her mind already, so this could have been just another one of her tricks. The Necromancer wouldn't go to this much effort, would he? And yet, however much she tried to tell herself what she was seeing was not real, that face was burning itself into her retinas and she found herself unable to act.

"Please, no. Please. Don't do this to him. Anyone but him."

There was a slow cackle from one corner of the factory floor, and what seemed like hundreds more zombies came out from the shadows all around. They did not matter though, for within moments the first undead was upon her.

"No! Uncle Dave, please, no!"

* * *

Zoey awoke with a scream, breathing heavily. Were it not for her current condition, you could have said she woke in a cold sweat.

Deep breaths Zoey. It wasn't real.

For the past few days since returning to the real world Zoey had been having the same recurring nightmare. Most days her reassurances were enough. The terror would wear off quickly and she would be fine. Today something was different. She could not simply go back to bed and wait until morning. She had to know.

It was 1 AM. She could probably slip out unnoticed and be back before anybody even noticed she was gone, so she quickly packed a few provisions in her bag and raised a pair of golems for protection on her trip. As she neared the entrance to the pocket dimension she heard footsteps behind her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” said Chris.

Zoey did not stop walking, but a portal opened in the wall in front of her and Chris stepped out in front of her.

“I said where are you going.”

“Just for a walk. I’ve not been to the surface in a few days. It’s getting kinda stuffy down here.”

“And you need your sandman bodyguards for that?”

“What can I say? It’s a dangerous town for people with powers.”

Chris narrowed his eyes, but stood aside.

“Fine. Go. But don’t take this as a sign that you’ve regained my trust.”

Zoey said nothing and walked past, the doorway out of the pocket dimension shimmering as she exited out into the real world.

* * *

About half an hour later, Zoey and her golems arrived at the cemetery to find 6 foot walls and locked wrought iron gates shut as she had expected. She looked at one of her golems, and without so much as a sound from her it walked up to the gate and passed straight through it, reforming on the other side, almost like the gate was not there at all. The other golem bent down, allowing Zoey to climb up on top of it, over the gate and into the arms of the golem on the other side.

It did not take her long to find what she was looking for: the Lowenstein family mausoleum. Zoey breathed a sigh of relief.

It wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. This place is still locked, just as I left it.

She took out the keys from her bag, unlocked the door and slipped inside, leaving one of the golems on guard outside. She reached the bottom of the stairs to find that there was a thick layer of cobwebs and dust over everything. It looked like it had not been disturbed in at least a century, which seemed odd to Zoey as it had not been more than a month since Uncle Dave was buried in here. That uneasy feeling was back.

She wiped the dust off one of the coffin labels and read once again the epitaph: the lines from a poem as he had requested in his last will and testament.

DAVID JUDAH LOWENSTEIN BELOVED BROTHER AND UNCLE 1965 - 2014 “DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE AND WEEP I AM NOT THERE. I DO NOT SLEEP.”

Zoey’s uneasy feeling was still there. She could see clearly that the coffin had not been disturbed by anybody before her. But she still had to know. She needed to see for herself that it was not real, so she carefully lifted the lid of the coffin and looked inside.

It was empty.

At least, it seemed that way at first glance. She almost did not see it against the lining of the coffin, but in one of the corners there was a small smooth round stone, no bigger than a golf ball. Zoey picked it up to find it ice cold to the touch and heavier than you might expect for its size. There were markings on the stone, but nothing she recognised or could understand. She did not know what it was or how it got there, but if it was in her uncle’s coffin, and importantly if he was not there with it, then it was likely important.

With a sinking feeling, she sat down on the stone floor and rested her head in her hands. She had hoped to see his body. At least then she could convince herself that the undead doppelgänger she saw at the factory was an illusion, or at least as real as the rest of the pocket dimension. On the other hand, she had feared that the mausoleum had been broken into and that his body had been stolen.

But this? Zoey had no idea what to make of this.