Dre watched solemnly as Terst disappeared into the fog bank. He shook his head sadly and let a small whine escape his lips.
"Dre, was it..?" Jim said, putting his large, muscular hand on the boy's bony shoulder. "What's the matter?"
Once again, Dre just shook his head. "Nothing, it's just..." He motioned with a hand at the spot of mist that Terst departed into. "That kid, Terst, was around my age, and... I thought I had something..."
Jim looked extremely confused for a second. "Wait, you thought that... You and he... Had something..?" He scratched his head, looking vaguely unsure of himself.
"No, no!" Dre stammered, blushing wildly. "I mean, I thought I remembered something that involved him. Maybe something from my past..." He looked at his feet, unsure of what to say. "Look, I know it may seem wierd, but I'm not exactly sure who I--"
Dre was cut off by Jim's hand, which had fit it's way entirely over the boy's mouth. A quick look towards Jim's face showed that the man was staring at the mist suspiciously. Quite confused, Dre wriggled out of his grip. "What is it?" He whispered hoarsly.
Eyes darting from the left to the right, Jim spoke quietly and calmly. "Look out into the mist."
Dre complied. As he squinted to see what Jim was mentioning, he made an audible, inadvertant gasp. In the mist were several silhouettes of figures, humanoids, that shambled through the fog in an almost drunkenlike state. "Who are they?" He said as a couple of moans erupted from the figures.
Jim shook his head. "Don't exactly look like mourners, do they?"
"Oh god." Dre grasped his hair in exasperation. "I don't want to die..." He looked at Jim pleadingly. "What are we going to do?"
As he looked at Dre, Jim's eyes were sad at first, but when he looked over Dre's right shoulder, they grew to the size of tennis balls. "Behind you!" He yelled.
Dre turned just in time to see a rotting corpse grab him by his ears and fall to the ground with him. Upon hitting the ground, he instinctively elbowed the creature in the face, and rolled out from under him.
The creature got up on its knees and made another lunge for him, but this time Dre was ready. He jumped over the creature's reckless maneuver and landed on his back with a sickening Crrrrack!
"Catch!" Jim said, tossing him a switchblade knife.
Dre caught it, popped it open, and finished the job. As the adrenaline faded from his veins, the boy collapsed on the ground - head pounding. "Did I just kill a..." He swallowed the last word, took a deep breath, and continued. "Zombie?" Dre looked at his once beautiful, feminine hands, that now were covered in grime.
"I think so." The man walked over and took back his knife. He patted Dre on the head, who, in turn, rested his face in the crook of Jim's arm. "So what's the plan?"
"We have to punch a hole in them and get out of the graveyard somehow..." Dre's temples hurt, as if a percussionist was banging on them from the inside. He looked up and raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't happen to have any expertise in weapons or anything, would you?"
To Dre's surprise, Jim chuckled. "You have no idea."