What Souls are Made Of

Chapter 4

"Reel it in, rockstar," Avi prodded as my mind clung to the oppressive need for brains.

"What's wrong with me?" I tried to shake off the compulsion.

"You're hungry; it's expected. You've been out for a few days," Avi shrugged.

"Out?"

"Yeah, so there's a bit more you should know, but I think it is best if I show you."

The few blocks passed in quick steps. "The speed is messing with me," I murmured to myself.

"Yeah," Avi set a hand on my shoulder to slow me, "we should probably work on that. The normans will spot you in a minute if they see your clip."

The slower pace was painful. It reminded me of the farmers' market. The swarm of people all moving at their own pace would flare an annoyance in me that I found hard to stifle.

"Sarah," shot from my lips.

"Mmhmm," Avi nodded to himself.

"Do you know where Sarah is?" I stopped dead in my tracks.

"No, never met her. Feel like I have with all the mumbling you did during your change," he shrugged.

"My change?"

"We're getting there," as he spoke, he began to walk again.

"I don't have time for all this. I have to find Sarah."

"You have all the time in the world; odds are she is either dead or just like you. Near as I can tell, the only thing that will steal your time is a bullet between the eyes or..." His words trailed off, but I wasn't listening.

"She's not dead," I stammered.

Avi didn't answer, but his passive shrug let me know that he disagreed with me.

"I can tell; she's not dead. I have to find her," I argued.

"Well, first, you need to learn to survive. So slow down, Scrappy-Doo."

I bit back the anger that erupted in me from his lack of urgency. It was easy to forget the fury when my eyes fell on Grand Park. It was as packed as usual, but not with the tanned meanderers that I had expected. The park was crawling with empty minds frantically pacing.

"What's wrong with them?"

"We'll just say they are less enlightened," Avi nodded to himself.

I tore my eyes away from the crowd to look at Avi. He was gazing at them with unfiltered sadness.

"These were all people," he added. "Sometimes you can tell who they were by the clothes they have or remnants of a hairstyle. Now they are just mindless bodies looking to kill or be killed. Not that they know. The fog is thick. That's the headache you have; the haze is clearing for you."

"Why? I mean, why are we lucid?"

"Well, this is where things can get a little dicey for us. I turned your brain back on."

"You what?" A flash of horror passed through me like lightning.

"There use to be more of us, but well..." Avi jerked his face away from me. "There is the lore of zombies. As I said, most of the healthy people are just surviving, but there was at least one man, Michi Sano, that wouldn't give up on his daughter. He remembered some stories passed down through his family of a salt that would bring back the soul of a dead walker."

"Salt? Like, table salt?"

"No, not table salt. Moshio; it's a salt made from seawater and seaweed. It's a bit rare, but Michi had some to bring his daughter back."