Blackened Roots: An Anthology of the Undead

BLACKENED ROOTS

AN ANTHOLOGY OF THE UNDEAD

Edited by

NICOLE GIVENS KURTZ AND TONIA RANSOM

Mocha Memoirs Press Mocha Memoirs Press

CONTENTS

Other Mocha Memoirs Horror Anthology titles

Recipe for a Zombie

Eden Royce

Initiation

Milton J. Davis

Cecil and the Dismemberment

Errick Nunnally

Grayed Out

Craig L. Gidney

The Reckoning

Brandon Massey

Inheritance

L. Marie Wood

Dead Man Country

Steven Van Patten

From Within the Hull

Marc Abbott

A Confusion of the Gods

Sumiko Saulson

Sirabiri of the Restless

Moustapha Mbacké Diop

Thank you for Supporting the Undead

About The Editors

About The Authors

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

The stories contained therein are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Hardcover ISBN: 979-8-9873795-9-2

Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9873795-8-5

EBook ISBN: 979-8-9873795-7-8

Recipe for a Zombie ©2023 Eden Royce

Initiation ©2023 Milton J. Davis

Cecil and the Dismemberment ©2023 Errick Nunnally

Grayed Out ©2023 Craig L. Gidney

The Reckoning ©2023 Brandon Massey

Inheritance ©2023 L. Marie Wood

Dead Man Country ©2023 Steven Van Patten

From Within the Hull ©2023 Marc Abbott

A Confusion of the Gods ©2023 Sumiko Saulson

Sirabiri of the Restless ©2023 Moustapha Mbacké Diop

Cover Art Design by Sean Hill

Pencils and Lettering by Krishna Balram

Proofreader: Nicole Givens Kurtz

Publisher: Mocha Memoirs Press

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws, you cannot trade, sell or give any e-books away.

OTHER MOCHA MEMOIRS HORROR ANTHOLOGY TITLES

SLAY: Stories of the Vampire Noire edited by Nicole Givens Kurtz

Black Magic Women edited by Sumiko Saulson

In the Bloodstream: An Anthology of Dark Fantasy and Horror edited by Eden Royce

Sisters of the Wild Sage: A Weird Western Collection by Nicole Givens Kurtz

Ghosts, Gears, and Grimoires edited by Rie Sheridan Rose

The Grotesquerie: 22 Horror Stories by Women edited by Eden Royce

RECIPE FOR A ZOMBIE

EDEN ROYCE

In these days of mass-produced everything, sometimes it’s a joy to focus on the handcrafting of one special item. One you can dedicate yourself to perfecting. Trends in zombies have moved to armies of chemically-created mindless flesh-eaters—a far cry from their origins.

The zonbi was born in Haiti, where the intended was specially and lovingly chosen. Once selected, they were molded in an artisan fashion where the practitioner accepted the time required as inseparable from the end result: one person, bound to do their bidding.

While zombies are created with Vodoun and aren’t usually in my repertoire as a hoodooienne, this recipe is a fusion of both magics that yields a minion anyone can treasure.

Preparation time: 30 minutes "Cooking" time: 24 hours Difficulty: Easy Makes: one

As with all magic recipes, the smart practitioner is prepared. Wear comfortable shoes with traction in case the need to move quickly arises. Bring your resolve as well, because once you’ve begun, there is no going back.

But if you’ve decided to take on this recipe, it’s likely you already know that.

Ingredients:

your intended

lockable room

one handful of Narcissus powder

pinto coffin*

white paint or chalk

salt

seven black candles (lard or beeswax is best, but soy will do)

matches or lighter

cast iron pan (optional)

*If you do not have a pinto coffin, which is cheap pine nailed together, a trunk or crate or any kind of breathable container will suffice.

Directions:

Remove coffin lid.

Isolate your intended with a casual invitation to your locale. If you are already on intimate terms, all the easier. If not, the offer of a cup of coffee or a glass of wine is a tried and true ruse.

Administer the powder. Some recipes will tell you to blow it in the intended’s face, but this isn’t a requirement. The object is to get it into the bloodstream quickly, so find the closest and most accessible mucous membrane.

STEP BACK. Your intended will likely have a brief moment of shock after exposure to the powder. After this, all bets are off! Your vict— intended may jerk, spasm, grab at you… any number of unpredictable things. This is where those high- traction shoes will come in handy. Get out of their way. They won’t be able to get far. Soon, they’ll crash to the floor.

This is the hard part. Keep your nerve. Remorse, tinged with horror at what you’ve done, may creep in and some may find their desire to continue will waver. Understandable when you see someone you know and/or love catatonic on the floor. Should you find yourself on the precipice at this step of the recipe, don’t despair. This is where you must dig deep, beyond any shred of lingering sympathy, and pull on the real reasons you are making this recipe.

Are you furious that your subordinate has now become your boss?

Has someone you called friend been seen out with your heart’s desire?

Or maybe you are like me… with a general misanthropy that pervades everything you do. Whatever your own personal reasons, find your purpose and clutch it tight. Let it propel you through the remainder of the task.

Do you have it?

Good. Moving on…

Once the intended calms, approach with the cast iron pan in hand. The powder should have done all of the work for you, but if they’re not completely subdued and try to rise, hit them in the temple. Not too hard, or you may cause damage beyond repair. If you have the arm strength, a well-aimed punch will accomplish the same goal. Should the intended’s bladder or bowels loosen, don’t worry—this is normal. Move on to the next step and clean up later.

Unlock the room, lift or drag your intended inside and place them into prepared coffin. Paint your name over their head and heart. Close coffin and nail shut. Surround with salt. Place candles around the box in a clockwise direction and light each in order of placement. Seal room and leave undisturbed for 24 hours.

Important: No peeking! Many a practitioner has been disappointed with the results because curiosity got the better of them. Ignore the scrabbling and scratching. Tidy up. Distract yourself. Have a hot bath and get some well-deserved rest.

The next day, unlock the door. Survey the room. If the ring of salt is undisturbed, enter and open the box. Your intended should be reclining inside, ready to do your will. Test by giving your zombie a simple instruction. Perhaps to smile or kiss your hand. If your zombie is able to complete these tasks with little effort, slowly incorporate more complicated commands or those your intended at one time found distasteful or beneath them.

Above all, enjoy your hard work!

INITIATION

MILTON J. DAVIS

Maria watched the horde through her battered binoculars, searching for the perfect one. This was the third mass they had encountered since morning. The smell of decaying flesh reached them despite the distance, carried by a stiff wind which heralded an approaching rainstorm. She shifted her attention to the gathering clouds, lightning flashes proceeding the distant rumbles.

You see one? Leo asked.

Maria shifted her attention back to the horde.

Not yet, she replied.

The town had been ravaged by the undead before. Thinking beings would bypass it, but the hordes would sweep the same spots again and again.

Maria eyebrows rose over the binocular lens.

Got one!

She focused on a smaller undead. It was probably eight or nine years old when it transitioned. The condition of its clothes indicated it had been taken recently. Maria stopped identifying them by gender long ago. The more you removed their humanity, the easier it was to do what you had to do to survive.

Let’s go, Leo said.

He started the motorcycle as she forced her helmet down over her voluminous afro then climbed into the sidecar. Leo drove slowly, over the rough ground then accelerated when they reached the smoother asphalt. They covered half the distance before parking the bike. They were in no danger, but old habits were hard to break. Maria fished the shotgun from under their coats, and Leo grabbed the axe. They strolled across the patchwork of grass, weeds, and dirt as the undead entered the town. The creatures staggered in single file then separated, following the various streets branching from the main road.

The young one held back as if unsure, which was good for Leo and Maria. Maria opened the double barrel shotgun then inserted two buckshot shells. She crept closer until she was a meter away from it.

Boo.

The undead turned and she pulled the trigger. The shot ripped through its head, sending decayed flesh and black blood everywhere. The headless creature tottered then fell forward.

Maria reloaded the shotgun as Leo strolled to the body.

How much we need? Maria asked.

Not much.

Leo grabbed the undead’s left arm and extended it. He chopped off the hand with one swing. It took three to cleave the arm at the elbow. He squatted before the body as Maria kept watch, picking up the arm then putting it into a silk-lined canvas bag.

They’re coming, Maria said. A gathering of undead walked toward them, blank eyes staring, deformed mouths open.

The duo strolled to the motorbike. Maria watched the group come closer and she smirked. Leo started the bike, but Maria raised her hand.

Wait, she said.

Leo frowned. For what? We got what we came for.

I want to see it work, she said.

Leo sighed then folded his arms on the bike handles. The undead came a few meters closer then stopped. They swayed in their unstable way, gazing around as if they could no longer see them. Then they turned away one by one, returning to the town.

Maria grinned. Amazing. She hunkered down into the side car.

Let’s go.

It was raining when they reached the compound. The tower guards recognized them and opened the gate a few minutes before they arrived. Camp folk waved as they sloshed by to the command tent in the center of the town. Leo stopped before the entrance and Maria climbed out of the sidecar, the canvas bag containing the arm slung over her shoulder.

I’ll meet you at home, she said.

Leo nodded then drove away. Maria watched him and warmth passed through her despite the cold drizzle. She was lucky. Leo was a good man. They had been through so much together since The Change, circumstances that would have destroyed most couples. But they survived. They found the commune and were accepted. Now they were contributing to the community in the most important way.

When she entered the tent, she was greeted by the stern face of Gretchen Moore, head scientist. The sepia-colored clinic manager wore a dingy lab coat over her jeans and flannel shirt, her tight cross necklace barely visible. Maria threw up a lazy salute and Gretchen waved it off.

Where’s the package? she said.

Maria handed her the bag. Gretchen opened it, looked inside then smiled.

By Her Grace, she whispered. When she looked up, she radiated a reverent glow.

You and Leo did an excellent job. I can see it’s fresh. Did you watch the transformation?

Maria barely hid her disgust.

No. It was traveling with the Pollo Horde, she answered.

Gretchen hurried away, Maria close behind. They pushed through the canvas curtain into her lab. Maria was always amazed at how clean she kept the facility. Gretchen sat the appendage on the lab table then went to her storage cabinet and took out a med kit. She gave it to Maria.

Make sure his vitals are good, she said.

I will, Maria replied.

You must be excited.

Actually, I’m a little scared.

Gretchen looked at her with wide eyes.

Scared? Why?

Maria shrugged.

Old habits I guess.

Gretchen carried the bag to the table then opened it. She took out the arm and admired it.

You need to shake your doubts, Gretchen said. Dr. Moore left us with an amazing legacy. It’s terrible that he wasn’t able to use it to save himself.

Gretchen closed her eyes then whispered a prayer. Everyone in the compound knew the story of Dr. Willis Moore and his revolutionary discovery. It was his serum that made life in the compound possible. It was also his search to improve his discovery that led him to become what he fought to destroy.

When Gretchen opened her eyes, the serious expression had returned.

Make sure you check Barron’s vitals. We need him in his best shape for Initiation.

I will, Maria replied. Thank you, Gretchen.

No need to thank me. We are Tribe.

We are Tribe, Maria repeated.

Maria left the med tent then hurried home. Leo’s bike was parked out front, covered with the rain canvas. As she entered the tent, she saw her men sitting at the rusted folding table enjoying bowls of bone soup. Barron looked up and his face glowed.

Mami!

He jumped from her seat, then wrapped her in a crushing loving hug. He was almost as tall as Leo now, which made her happy and sad. She was gaining a healthy man but losing her boy.

Let your mother go so she can eat, Leo said playfully.

They walked together to the table, separating to sit. The bone soup was warm and soothing.

What did Gretchen say? Leo asked.

Everything is good, Maria replied. Initiation is on schedule.

Barron’s face dimmed; his smile replaced by a nervous scowl. Maria reached out and touched his hand.

It’s nothing to worry about, she said. Everything will be fine.

I’m not worried about that, Barron replied. I’m nervous about the ceremony. I don’t like crowds.

I know, Leo said. But Initiation is important to Tribe and us. It’s the reason we still exist while others have perished.

Plus it doesn’t last long, Maria said in a soothing tone. And when it’s over, you can finally leave the compound.

Barron’s nervousness quelled. That would be great!

Now let’s finish this delicious soup. I need to check your vitals, Maria said.

Barron lowered his spoon. Why?

You have to be at your healthiest to participate in Initiation.

I feel good, Barron said.

Of course, you do. You’re my son, Maria said. But that’s not enough for Gretchen. She needs her stupid numbers.

They finished their meal. Leo collected their bowls then carried them to the water bucket for washing. Barron was standing to leave the table when Maria waved him down.

No you don’t, young man. She lifted the test kit. Remember?

Barron frowned then plopped into his seat. Maria broke the seal on the kit, then opened it. Inside was a thermometer, stethoscope, blood pressure cuff and a blood sample kit. The faded instructions were tucked under the instruments. Maria unfolded them then read them. She knew them by heart, but it never hurt to read them again just in case Gretchen made any changes.

Okay young man, let’s do this, she said.

Barron passed the tests with no problem. The only variable was the blood sample analysis. She would have to wait for Gretchen for those results.

So, am I alive? Barron asked.

No, Maria replied. We’ll have to kick you out of the compound to roam around with your friends.

That’s not funny, Barron said.

Maria hugged him. After initiation you won’t have to worry about that ever again.

The following weeks were spent in preparation of Initiation. Teams scoured the nearby ruins and abandoned homes for items and trinkets for the ceremony. The city blacksmiths converted those objects into jewelry for the initiates and their families. None of this was necessary, but the town leaders understood how important celebration and recognition was to the survivors. Maria went to the seamstress to have Leo’s initiation jacket resized for Barron, who was already bigger and broader than his father. After initiation, he would be a valuable addition to the Tribe. Maria couldn’t help but smile.

The night finally arrived. A full moon lay its muted light on the compound, illuminating the celebrants as they made their way to Town Center. The moonlight was gradually usurped by the bonfire light, the blazing pile of hardwood and incense sending smoke and fragrance into the clear night sky.

Barron put on his jacket then buttoned it as Maria and Leo watched. He looked up at them both, a nervous smile on his face.

So, I guess this is it, he said.

It is, Maria replied.

He stood and Maria hugged him tight