Eye Of The Storm (part 1)

Soon enough, Steve watched a small section of the crowd under him, one by one would walk around the house he stood over in a small line. He watched them waddle there way as he reached pulled out the fire ax he was given from his back belt strap on his pants. he gripped the far end of the ax as he walked to the back of the roof where the pile of zombies that died from the shotgun was at. that was when his sight had gotten blurry and the lights of the roof felt bright.

Then searing pain in his head stung at the front. He stopped walking and audibly groaned as he rubbed his forehead, shutting his eyes tight. It must have been from him being focused on the zombies traveling. The moment he had felt the pain fade away he opened his eyes, but did not find himself on the roof, nor was he in the sim gym. He stood eight feet staring down a dark and dimly lit hall that had armored knights displayed to the walls of this concrete hall. The color of the hall was hard to make in the darkness. It was some shade of grey from what he could tell. Directly in front of him was a woman that wore a black shirt and a red jean vest over, with belly high jeans and brown ankle boots. This was the woman he kept seeing in his fractured memories. Of course, though, the woman's face was missing. Completely featureless. Her body motion looked as if she had screamed something to him. She was smaller than him, too. He looked at his own figure and was disgusted as he found himself no longer what he originally was. This tall grotesque dark green-skinned monster, wielding in its hands a large and rusted double-sided ax. The ax looked as if it was designed for an executioner. for beheadings.

His name was screamed. This woman was screaming Steve's name before she had desperately turned her back and saw the mechanical gate at the end of the hall as it started to close. The woman's instincts made her run to the exit, and that was when Steve's perspective had rushed forward and started to swing. Steve didn't want to see anymore, "NO!" Steve shouted.

He blinked again, and he was back on the roof with a line of ten or so zombies ready for his ax. The normal fire escape ax that he held in his hands. His normal lightly tan hands. His mouth hung slightly as a look of fear and dread filled his expression. Steve kept hearing this question pop up in his head since he woke up from that tube, but now, the question that repeated in his head rung louder than ever before. What the hell are you, Steve? What kind of life did you have, and why are you avoiding it? Unfortunately, these are questions he had no time to worry about.

He shook away the thought as best as he could before approached the line of undead that stood still. Steve knelt at the edge of the roof, in front of the first zombie in line. He stared at the living parasite in front of him. The flesh of its skin was lumpy and rotten. It smelled as if a fully stocked fridge was off and left the door wide open for 2 months. It stung his nostrils, so Steve wanted this to be quick, so he would not have to deal with it for long. He raised his ax and plunged the pointed end into the undead's skull. It made a rather disgusting crunch then a squelching fleshy sound. the motion of the ax scrambled the brains inside. Almost instantly, the zombie fell limp and lifeless on the ground under him. Steve's head noticeably felt less tight the moment the zombie had no more life in it. He did not even notice hid head felt this way until there was a relief given to him. So, his mind had some form of residual control over them even after his demands were met. On paper, his newfound ability seemed boundless but the more he discovered, the more limitations Steve found. Steve felt frustrated that was the case but in the end, seemed glad to know all these limitations. He did not want to put himself in a situation without knowing if he could make it out alive.

Steve focused on the next undead in line. He tried to tell it to move forward without speaking. Eventually, the zombie walked closer to him. It stopped when its foot kicked the dead zombie ahead of it. With a swift swing of Steve's ax, the zombie's head plopped off of its neck. The head made a hefty thud to the ground, making an audible crack when the skull smacked the ground, and a second later, the body fell as well. Steve performed this chain of events with the rest of the line of the undead. There were still plenty of lifeless bodies groaning at the front of the house. Steve figured this new ability should be used in close encounters. Using it this way would take too much time. Sure, He has a lot of time on his hands, but this would take days if he counted in all of the other levels he has to go through, before he can consider that his friends are safe.

Steve stood and walked to the front of the roof. He watched as the numbers grow in the crowd of undead. He groaned, confirming that his newfound ability will not make things go by any faster. He then came up with a better idea. Something that could utilize this new ability while also speeding the process of cleaning this gym. All he needed was four or five zombies to control. He could use his own enemies as a shield to save ammo and use the ax to kill in close encounters. The only true fear he had with this plan, is the shield he would make. He needed to know what exactly could stop them from being controlled.

Steve glanced at the zombies he told to kneel. They were gone and back in the crowd. His hypothesis had him believe one or two reasons why they were no longer following his demand. Either they had gotten distracted and no longer focused on Steve, or Steve had been distracted by the "zombie line" idea he had. He needed to test both theories to know if he can safely perform this new plan.

Steve took a sharp inhale and spoke a demand, "Turn! Face the opposite direction!" quickly. the first twelve would stop their tiresome groans and would turn and stare towards the opposite direction of where they were looking, which was at him. now they faced the house that they had exited to approach Steve. Now, the first theory. He gripped one of the shingles on the roof and ripped it off of the roof. It felt as if it was made out of some sort of terracotta. He needed to distract them while keeping a focus on trying to control them. Steve slung the shingle towards the watchtower. It shattered loudly upon impact. Steve's eyes were glaring at the group he was controlling. Not a single one of them stopped staring ahead. They were practically fixated. This was a good sign.

Now the second theory. Steve stopped looking at his group. He closed his eyes and took a deep deep breath before he then looked up into the ceiling lights that poorly simulated sunlight. His eyes were glancing around them until he had noticed a flickering roof light. He focussed hard on the pattern of the flickering. The growls and groans underneath him got louder. Steve looked. The zombies he had control of, no longer were facing the house ahead and were back in the crowd. This confirmed the theory. As long as Steve is not distracted, as long as he is focused on controlling the zombies, they will follow his demands.

This was enough for Steve to formulate a plan with everything he knew. He walked to the corner of the roof, to the right of the front house. The crowd of undead followed. Steve wanted to also test their strength, "Give me space so I can jump down..."

the zombies closest to the wall would lower their arms and ceased their groans as they then turned to face the crowd and made an attempt to shove them back. Some space was made but eventually, the crowd started to overwhelm the zombies he was controlling. He pulled his pistol out and gave a few headshots to the back end of the crowd. His undead team was showing a significant amount of strength. The harder they pushed, the harder his head rung with sharp pain. Steve did not waver, though. He made sure his small number of zombies were going to reach their goal.

Steve felt himself lose his breath as he continued to focus. Controlling four zombies, having them push a countless number of other zombies back was seemingly, enough to make his mind feel as if it was melting. A migraine that felt like a hammer that would smack the sides of his head repeatedly. Steve felt his blood pumping, as he gritted his teeth. His vision had a red hue in his peripherals. He could tell this was taking a toll on him, but he needed to try, and know if he can do this. This.. Hurts... A lot!