This is a short story (only three chapters) where Atem turns into a sexy, bad ass zombie fighter. Filled with vaseshipping goodies and some citrusy fun. So... enjoy.

The thing about fortune tellers is that no one ever believes them. The old crone with her mystical items and pointed nose, always travelling with a caravan, and never there when you need more answers. I mean, it's only natural to shove their readings aside when they speak of "plague", 'disaster', and, of course, "corpses which shall hunger for living flesh". It was just so much easier to cast her out as some loon. The old woman had spent too much time in the sun perhaps. Life was smoother when there wasn't the worry of impending doom, and you know, the fall of your entire empire. If she had foretold I would live long, surrounded by riches, and everyone would think I was the greatest pharaoh to walk this world and the next- well, damn, of course I'd believe her! But to actually think that mummies could walk beside men? Come on. No one would believe that.

No one except the man who's face has just been bitten off before my very eyes. I'm sure with every scream and plea, he believes it alright. And now more than ever I wish I had listened to that old fortune-teller. Whenever I swing my khopesh sword, I sometimes pretend it is her blood spurting back in my face as if this is all her doing. Other times, I pretend it is mine.

"My pharaoh! There are too many of them, we must get you to safety!" Set emerges from the chaos. His face drips with blood and drains down into his now drenched tunic. I watch the rage beat down his panic in his eyes as he extends a hand to me, but I must refuse. I must keep fighting. I must find Mana.

"No! The villagers! Take any survivors back to the palace at once!"

"But, Your Majesty-"

"That is an order, Set. Now go! Hurry!"

He commands Mahad and a few other soldiers to follow him into the fray. They're all frightened by the hoards of Isfet-Ka that continue to tear apart the living. They all want to run- I see the cowardice in how their hands quiver around their spears- but one harsh scowl from Set and they are charging towards the corpses. I turn quickly enough to behead the starving Isfet-Ka that has snuck behind me. The blade rushes through its decaying flesh without delay, and breaks free so that I may swing at another who draws near.

"Mana!" I howl. With so many corpses chasing and swaying after anything with a heartbeat, I am pleading that none hunger for the taste of such a dear friend. I am praying so desperately in my own chest that Mana is not among the mindless frenzy I impale with my sword. I don't think I could ever bring my blade to her, even if she bit her hardest down into my skin and to my bone. Her serrated, starving kiss would then at least be the death of me, and in that take my breath away. As I surge past old markets, and dodge around corners, I think only of how I should have said goodbye to her. Just in case. I think of how I should have stopped her from leaving the palace last night, how I should have cupped her hands in mine and looked into her eyes. How I should have just said what I've so long awaited to say. But no. I had to have found my fourth wife's newest sex trick more intriguing at the time. What the hell- it wasn't even that good! Lots of women could've done that!

If Mana ever found me a zombie, I'd hope she'd have no trouble at all in knifing my skull.

Soon enough, Isfet-Ka are entirely surrounding me. Each rotted face hisses and spews like angry cobras. There is no where to go but up. Yet even the mud brick buildings of my once grand capital city have seen the abuse of an apocalypse. Fires have bullied the walls and houses of the marketplaces into complete submission. There's no telling when something is ready to collapse or give way. But I can't stay within the grasp of the diseased and the deceased. I climb the ladders on what was once an innocent civilian's home and trek the roof for an escape. I call out again over the flames for my lost Mana, but only the cries of the Isfet-Ka return. The city is entirely overrun. From the looks of the things, I know that if any survivors remain, they will not for much longer. And again my heart sinks back to last night, even to last week, and last year, to all the times I could have told Mana how I felt about her.

I leap from building to building. Some crumble beneath my feet and I nearly tumble into the awaiting crowds of Isfet-Ka below. That would kind of ruin my day, so let me just try and avoid dying for right now. I have to find Mana. She is the only reason I haven't let the dead take me in as their own. I've already doomed my people by ignoring the cackling crone from the caravan, I can only pray that I have not doomed Mana as well.

How was that woman going to tell me about a zombie apocalypse, but now hot to survive it? That stupid old woman. I can only imagine her hiding some place safe as all fuck somewhere past the Nile, somewhere way out in the desert where no one would even bother to piss on. And she's laughing. Ra Almighty, she's laughing. While my own people are screeching for a taste of my viscera, and I abandon all safety to find my love and my friend, the old fortune-teller must be travelling to some other kingdom in search for another life to ruin. Give their emperor a prophecy he can neither fathom nor prevent, and then feast upon his demise. She is a zombie that breathes; that's it! A heartless, thieving, devious, decrepit, fiendish, wrinkled compilation of avarice and evil!

The growling deceased gather below me. They see me run atop buildings and wait for me to slip up. But then I run out of houses to jump to- the others have all caught fire or are swarmed with Isfet-Ka. I look to the buildings across the street, but a river of flesh-eaters between them makes the jump impossible. Falling downward would mean risking my one khopesh against all their teeth. I've nowhere to run until, all of the sudden, the Isfet-Ka are silent and still. The entire street which has become infested with the dead is now unmoving, and only the sounds of fires and hoards a few blocks over remain.

"Pharaoh!" I hear. "Pharaoh, over here!"

I pause where the words have captured me, and find myself turning back to three bouncing shadows. They leap and shout as if merely turning their way has saved them. And then, I realize, it is Mana who has saved me.

End Chapter

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