Part II

Orlando stood gazing down at his feet. The officer cleared his throat, bringing Orlando’s attention back to him.

          “Look kid, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but do not waste the time and expense of our department with false reports.”

          Orlando didn’t know how to respond. He saw a guy shoot another guy right here in this spot. He didn’t make it up. As luck would have it, at that moment his grandfather arrived from the hardware store, as did the movers. The officer wasted no time telling his grandfather the reason for his visit.

          Orlando didn’t want to hear it. He went back inside and up the stairs to his room. Upon slamming his door, he shot his radio with one look; it immediately turned on with the volume up high. Falling backwards on his bed, he waited for his grandfather to bang on his door to find out what all that was about. His grandfather didn’t do that. He didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until his parents came home from work that night that he heard his grandfather’s voice. His mother didn’t waste any time ripping into Orlando.

          “Is this because you’re not happy about the move? You make things up to try to force us to leave? I got news for you; that’s not going to happen! So deal with it!” His mother continued ranting at him for some time.

          His mother had never been this angry with him before. He didn’t say anything. He just lay on his bed staring at the wall. His lack of response only infuriated his mother more. Apparently tired of yelling over his radio, she tried turning it off with a glare but it didn’t work. Frustrated, she left him alone in his bedroom. Orlando heard her storm down the steps.

          Later that night Orlando woke from a deep sleep to the sounds of his grandfather’s TV. He waited one of his parents to go downstairs and tell him to turn it down, but he didn’t hear them. Tired, Orlando got up to do it himself. Standing at the top of the stairs, he noticed that the lights were off. It was dark. With one look of his eyes, the light switch turned on.

          “Grandpa?” he said as he hurried down the stairs. Approaching the closed door he called again, a little louder, “Grandpa!”

          It was then that he heard the voices on the other side of the door. He thought nothing of it. Believing it was just the sounds from the TV, Orlando pushed the door open. His grandfather was not alone. The TV was on; it was intended to drown out their voices. Sitting across from his grandfather was an old looking man whose gaze landed on Orlando.

          “Did we wake you?” The old man asked.

          “What do you think? Orlando asked annoyed.

          “This is my grandson,” his grandfather said to the old man.

          “I see.”

          “Grandpa what’s with the TV? It woke me up.” Irritated Orlando shut the TV off with one harsh look.

          The old man sat up in amazement, “Can he do this all the time, at will?” he asked Orlando’s grandfather.

          “No,” he replied. Giving it some thought he said, “Only when he’s in a foul mood or has low blood sugar. Which is all the time these days.”

          Looking back at Orlando the old man said, “You got a temper.”

          “No, I don’t.” Orlando wasn’t going to stay for this. He was going to go back upstairs and try to get some sleep.

          The old man kept him from leaving by saying, “I know about what happened out there in front of your house; what you saw.”

          Orlando halted by the door, without turning back he asked,” You do?”

          “Yes, your grandfather told me. Which is why I’m here.”

          “Are you a cop?” he asked as he turned back expectantly.

          “Not the kind with a badge.”

          “Then what kind are you?”

Orlando had not noticed before but leaning next to the chair was a wicked looking sword with a green handle and silver blade.

          “Is this some kind of joke?”  Orlando asked not at all amused.

          “This is no joke. This is a serious weapon.” The old man took up his sword.

          Orlando’s grandfather stepped in by adding, “This here is my friend, Maxwell. We used to hunt Zombies together.”

          “What? Zombies! Have you been smoking grandpa?” Orlando didn’t smell smoke but maybe the old man had started getting those magick fixes he had heard about.

          “We thought we had seen the last of them but something’s happened. They are here again.” His grandfather replied.

          Maxwell placed his sword back down, “The zombies are rising. I am going to have to train you in what you need to know.”

          Orlando didn’t know what they were talking about, “I’m going back to bed. See you in the morning, grandpa.”

          “Orlando, wait.” He did. “It’s your turn now. No one else can do this but you.”

          “Do what? What do you want me to do?” asked Orlando sounding like he was becoming irritated.

          His grandfather stood, stretching himself to his full height, “You must become the next zombie hunter.”

          “And,” Maxwell added, “You must begin your training before their numbers begin to rise.”

          Orlando stood there looking at them as if they lost their minds, “A zombie hunter?”