Amon stood among the corpses, staring at the hotel, a building he had long wished to call home one day. Now it was just a shell, an over sized empty husk, void of all human spirit. The undead still rallying about it like a beacon, feed on the scraps in their soulless, futile struggle to become something more. In the still of morning he searched their faces looking for something, a feeling that would inspire him. Amon didn't feel sad or angry, just a bitter disappointment in the humans and it tainted his loneliness making it impure.
As Amon scanned the broken faces of those undead, not yet at a sufficient level to be transformed out of death, he saw them for the creatures they were. Each an individual being, fighting for its place in the world and to be part of the new world. He glimpsed something he had lost in the transformation and a realization passed over him so completely, that it humbled him. With new eyes he saw that the cadavers were no longer people turned monsters, but rather a new life born out of the old and each facing a harsh reality unwavering.
Unsheathing his blade he modified his search to look for a more specific target, there was good to be done in this land still and the boy was only a part of it. Finding a worthy specimen, Amon made his way over to the emancipated girl, her arms, thin to the point that they looked as if they might snap. She barely had time to raise them up as his blade cut through the air and sliced her neck, the bony appendage doing little in the way of resistance.
The horde set upon her dead form as soon as Amon let her fall, the light fading from her eyes and her flesh given up. They squabbled over her remains and it made Amon think of his own hunger, one he seemed to have outgrown a little. It no longer wracked his body in the same way and at times it even left him. Satisfied at the results, he began a search for the next weak link, slicing at a young man, who's injuries were stopping him from ascending. The cripple fell easily and again the horde filled their bellies.
While his brethren ate, Amon considered the hotel for a moment. Was it possible to live here still? Without the humans presence, he would be free to be himself, without feeling like a dark stain in their existence. Once inside, he could contain and control the horde, aiding their evolution. The very idea lit a spark in Amon and he looked for a way to gain entry. The revolving doors were blocked by large concrete planters and too much weight for any wandering zombie to shift, but maybe not for one with intent. Amon focused his effort in pushing the door and found the planter moved a little. Lowering his body weight he tried again and moving it little by little Amon pushed his way inside.
The inside bought back memories of a bloodied battle viewed through smeared glass, of which the bodies still lay heaped in a corner rotting. Their blood stained the tiled foyer giving it a dark patterned look and he could trace the paths that people had once walked. Opening the sliding door, Amon let fresh air in and the scent of food out, not caring who came inside now. Somber, like a man intruding on a grave he traced the steps around the ground floor, pausing for only a moment to acknowledge the headless corpse whose flesh was slowly being consumed by small animals. For most part the hotel was untouched, sealed away from the harsh new world and for a moment it felt like being in a time slip. Hazy memories of a life gone by in a different time, nagged at the edge of his mind and the more he tried to recall them the less Amon could.
By the time he had finished his leisurely walk and was back in the foyer, the dead were starting to creep in. The rotting flesh was nothing special but to the mindless hunger, it served its purpose. Amon decided to stop his cull for the time being, there would be time for that latter and the hungry dead would help to remove the spoiled mess. Already Amon could make out contenders, as the fitter and dare he say healthier, specimens avoided the squabble in favor of exploring their surroundings. He would leave the hotel to fill itself while exploring the humans former room, the thought gave Amon a slight flicker of emotion as he ascended the stairs in search of signs of habitation among the many rooms.
The room had a strange odor as Amon forced the door and all at once he felt like an intruder. A feeling of life still clung to the walls, as shed skin cells and stray hairs waited for their owners return. The unmade bed still holding the rumpled shape of a person, while discarded clothes peppered the floor. Months of living in the forest, haunting trees and nestling amongst the leaves had changed Amon. This life was a exercise in almost forgotten nostalgia and he thought long and hard about where he wanted to be. The undead gouls did not belong in this pristine palace but then the hotel had no business in the new world. A world that Amon was going to shape to his liking. On that thought he closed the door, before pulling the covers square on the bed and laying in comfort, as his human need for sleep crept over him and the dead slowly filled his kingdom.
