In A Land Of Zombies, The Hypnotist Is King

Healer, heal thyself. Part II

I came across my first zombie 3 hours into my journey.

I was heading over towards Brighton via the South Downs. I figured it was best to travel where I could see as far around me as possible. I spun on my heel and took in a 360 degree panorama every few minutes to be sure that I was not snuck up on. It wasn't only zombies that I was looking out for, it was people too. I wanted to find people, but I realised that I had to be careful about who I found and how I found them.

I was walking along the crest of the south downs, the North to my left and the thin band of South to my right before the sea. I knew the sea was there, but I could not see it. There was a shroud about the coast, dull cloud that sat like smoke as if the town still burned. The North was clearer but no less grey. The horrific shapes in the clouds had gone for now though, gone, or my mind had started tuning them out, having no more need of the reminder that death was all around.

I came across her chewing on a cow carcass. She was the first that I had seen that I was not going to run or hide from. This was not America; I did not have guns as they did in most of the movies. I had knives so I had to get in close, so it was good that she was absorbed in what she was doing. She was buried head first up to her chest in the beast's rib cage. All I could see was a filthy and tattered dress that looked like school uniform, sticking out of the cow's rear end. It was twitching and kicking in the lust of the feed.

Before going feral, I had sat at home repeatedly running over every face to face zombie scenario that I could think of in my mind. I had to be sure that whatever I came across in the world, it would not the first time I had encountered it. My mind had to be trained and experienced before I went out into the world. Today's encounter shared similarities with a couple of scenarios that I had practised.

All my weapons were concealed where I had planned to hide them, even back then, the weight of my pack was familiar to me and the feeling in my stomach was the same as when I had done this in my mind, not as severe as first few times but familiar to my last practice before leaving.

I unbuttoned the clip and slid the longest knife that I had from it's sheath along the back pack that I wore. The hissing sound was both reassuring and ominous. The transfer of weight from my back to my hand sending a wave of readiness through my body and mind. I kept walking without changing pace, careful not to alert my system to any surplus drama, letting it run just the way it was running, calm and calculating.

As I approached, she withdrew from the corpse as if to take a breath, though I was not sure she still breathed. Her hair was matted with blood, her eyes were dead, and her jaw chewed dead flesh like a camel at graze, but she was a little girl. I was aware of all the thoughts that I should be thinking, the thoughts of the man that I used to be: there was doubt in my ability to be the cut throat, there was fear of failing and getting bitten, there was the idea that she was still alive, there was the idea of just walking past – she wasn't going to do me any harm if I just walked past, there was the anticipated nausea of hacking through an animated human body with the machete in my hand. These thoughts formed a pattern that rippled through my consciousness to seduce me from the dangerous confrontation, but necessity distanced me from it. I had not replaced the pattern completely as I could not hypnotise myself, but I had trained myself to turn away from it, to run a different pattern.

I ushered my new pattern in consciously. I told myself that everyone of these creatures that I left walking around might hurt someone else in the future. I had a responsibility to kill her. I brought up the scenario that I had run in my training, I brought up the icy cool feeling, I pushed down the nausea, I embraced the necessity of the task ahead, I envisioned a successful kill and how it would feel to be on the other side of it, the world a little bit safer.

She watched me approach, and the prospect of fresh meat dawned on her. She picked herself up from the cow and shuffled towards me. Her facial expression did not change, but a snarl of anticipation for my fresh meat and blood gurgled in her throat with the remnants of her raw beef meal that I had interrupted.

My pace did not change. The beat of my heart did not change. My breathing did not change. My resolve did not change. I had changed successfully into a cold zombie killer. As she got within arms reach, she lifted her arms to take hold of a part of my body and I lifted my machete. I was as cold and business-like as she was, which chilled me and shook the pattern a little, but I struck with the blade across her left temple, fast and precise. It cut deep. Her skull gave way easily. Her left eye caved in, the jellied eyeball slipping out along the edge of my knife. Her arms dropped to her side like a puppet with cut strings. Her legs sagged, and the weight of her body dragged her from my blade.

With her death, my rebirth was complete. My name's Alex, I'm a hypnotist and my skills will save lives.

Read more about the hypnosis side of things here at my blog:

http://www.lifechangeexperience.co.uk/610