Brant to perhaps try to run him over with a lawnmower or something.
Brant's car and Veronica's car were parked in the warehouse. Aside from that, it was empty.
Stanley climbed out all the way and did a quick peek in each vehicle to make sure Brant wasn't hiding there. Then he ran to the exit, swiped Veronica's badge, threw open the door and gasped.
The area around the warehouse was cordoned off with orange-and-white barriers, but there was a huge crowd right outside of them. A few of them pointed excitedly at Stanley. Those who were seated quickly got to their feet as the crowd as a whole roared to life.
There had to be at least two hundred people. None of them seemed to be carrying torches, pitchforks, or tar-and-feathering supplies, but Stanley still didn't feel that his personal safety was particularly secure.
'He is here!' somebody in the front shouted into a megaphone. 'Everybody, remain calm! Do not let the sounds of our excitement drown out His words!'
Stanley couldn't believe it. It was that whacko who'd shot him! 'Charlie…?'
'He remembers me! Our Savior recalls my name! Oh, I am truly blessed this day!'
'What's up with your speech patterns?'
'New speech for a new life! We await your words, Savior!'
Stanley cleared his throat. 'Has anybody-?'
'We can't hear you!' shouted somebody near the back.
'Please, Savior, take my megaphone, so that it might amplify your words!' Charlie stepped past the barrier and handed the megaphone to Stanley.
'Is this better?' Stanley asked, his voice booming.
There was general murmur of assent from the crowd.
'Did anybody see a man come out of here? Older guy, gray hair, goatee? Walks like he has a rod up his butt?'
The crowd collectively shook its head.
'Okay, thanks.' Stanley lowered the megaphone.
'Speak to us!' shouted Charlie.
'Don't shout. You're right next to me.'
'I apologize, Savior! My enthusiasm for your return is-'
'Charlie, get the fuck back on the other side of the line.'
'I will immediately, Savior!' Charlie hurried past the barrier.
'Listen, all of you, I really appreciate your support. Without my fans, I'm nothing. But things in my life are a little screwy these days, and I'm not completely sure what's going to happen to me, so I need to share some stuff with you.'
'Yes! Share your wisdom!' Charlie shouted.
'Charlie? This is your last warning. I'll send your ass to the back. Anyway, the first thing I want to say is, don't use me as a role model. I suck. All of us celebrities suck. And try not to…' Stanley trailed off. 'Have you been calling me Savior?'
'Yes, Savior!'
Stanley took a couple of moments to fully process that piece of information. 'Okay, now that is creepy and messed up!'
'You are our only hope!'
'If you say I'm part of any ancient prophecies, I'm going to knock you out with this megaphone. Look, I encourage all of you to be religious, but don't be a whack-job about it. Don't worship defective glass or stains on building, don't say dumb shit about God creating hurricanes to wipe out homosexuals, and don't worship zombies. At least not this zombie. I'm not the scientific miracle you all believe I am.'
'I knew it!' shouted a woman in the front row. 'It's goddamn makeup!'
'No, no, I'm a zombie!' Stanley insisted. 'But Project Second Chance is doing some horrible things. They're killing people. And now that I know about it, I can't let it keep happening.'
'Project Second Chance is giving the greatest gift in the history of mankind,' shouted Brant, emerging from around the corner of the warehouse. 'All of you here today, you're the strongest supporters of Mr. Corpse, are you not?'
The crowd cheered.
'And you're the ones most worthy of our gift, right?'
The crowd cheered again.
'Don't listen to him!' Stanley said into the megaphone. 'Project Second Chance is bad! All bad!'
'Stanley Dabernath was given the gift of eternal life,' said Brant. 'The chemicals that we synthesized will keep his flesh alive forever. But you, the truly loyal fans, should know this: what gives him eternal life can also give you eternal life. The formula in his veins will sustain you just as it sustains him.'
'What exactly are you getting at?' asked Charlie.
'Do you want eternal life? All of you?'
The crowd shouted its approval of the idea of receiving eternal life.
'Then eat Mr. Corpse!'
Stanley dropped the megaphone. This had soooooooo much potential to be unpleasant.
The crowd stared at him.
'He's lying!' Stanley shouted. 'That's not the truth at all! I was brought back by witchcraft!'
There was not a lot of time available for solemn reflection, but Stanley did take a split second to consider that perhaps the whole supernatural element was something that the crowd needed to be eased into.
'Eat him!' Brant repeated.
The crowd just stood there, looking collectively baffled.
'It's a lie!' Stanley insisted. 'If you eat me you'll just be a cannibal! And that's shameful! Nobody likes cannibals!'
'Eternal life!' Brant shouted.
Charlie stepped forward. 'Yes, eternal life!'
The crowd surged forth, mouths open.
Stanley turned back toward the structure and fled. He didn't have far to run, but Brant intercepted him and delivered yet another one of those manly punches. Brant grabbed Stanley by the shirt collar and shoved him toward the oncoming hungry crowd.
'Fuuuuuuuuck!' he shouted.
And then he was caught in a swarm of bodies. Fingernails dug into his arm. A set of teeth bit down upon his leg.
Though the crowd was making too much noise for this to be true, Stanley was sure he heard Brant's cold, cruel laughter.
Stanley screamed and kicked and flailed around, but he couldn't get away from all these people. Charlie bit down on his arm, hard, ripping off a thin strip of flesh. A young woman grabbed it from between his teeth and shoved it into her own mouth as Charlie wailed in protest.
He kicked, getting a little kid (shit, he's not even out of elementary school!) in the face. Stanley's shirt ripped in half and within seconds had vanished from his body. He felt at least four different sets of teeth on his arm, and somebody bit down on his thumb almost, but not quite, hard enough to sever it.
'Please!' he begged.
His thumb came off.
What was going to happen to him when there was no flesh left? Would he actually become the skeleton from the posters? Would he still be alive?
An elderly woman thrust her face toward his eyeball, as if preparing to suck the orb out of its socket. Stanley gave her a head-butt and heard something crack that didn't belong to him.
'What the hell are you people doing?' a woman screamed. She'd somehow gotten hold of the megaphone. 'This is insane! Leave him alone!'
The crowd's hysteria was too intense. They continued ripping at Stanley's clothing and flesh. One particularly crazed-looking gentleman had a pocketknife and was trying to saw a chunk out of Stanley's belly.
The pain became overwhelming…and then Stanley felt at peace. This wasn't happening to him. This was
