Cast Out - Part 9

The coup had gone better than expected, but more people had to be executed than desired.


While many people had to be killed, it seemed as though peace would finally come to the small African nation, at least for awhile. Who would have guessed that less than a week before, the president was alive and the government - seemingly stable? All that had changed in the last few days.

The soldiers were ordered to round up as many of the government officials and their families as could be found, and to put them in prison. They also gathered up as many of the supporters of the old regime they could find: Military officers, politicians, lawyers, professors, and teachers. The new leader wanted to make sure that any opposition was “done away”. Any who would not swear allegiance immediately while in jail was marked out. Those were told that they would be attending a “re-education camp”. Their entire family was taken out, put into trucks, and driven outside the city. When they arrived, they saw that there was no camp, only armed men. They were pulled off the truck, some kicking and screaming, and promptly executed - Men, women, and children. Cries of mercy fell on deaf ears. This pattern was repeated over the course of several days.

Now workers were preparing the mass graves with a bulldozer, while others stood by with shovels. A number of soldiers were observing the work, and some smoked while watching the preparations. A few laughed and joked, making gestures, reenacting the last moments of some of the people they had executed. They had assault rifles, shotguns, and a few bolt action rifles, as they guarded the dead bodies, stacked upon one another like firewood. The line of bodies stretched on for about 100 meters.

The sun had risen a few hours before, and the smell of gunpowder was waning, but the smell of the dead was becoming unbearable. Many of the workers and soldiers had covered their mouths and noses with scarves in a feeble attempt to keep the stench at bay. Flies were everywhere. Some of the bodies had been there for a few days, and some for only a few hours.

The bulldoze driver had just about completed the pit, when it happened.

All of the dead bodies started to move at the same time.

Anyone who had read the story of Gulliver wrestling in his ropes would have said that it was a comparable visual.

The dead got up quickly, like they were awoken from sleep by a loud noise. They looked at each other, and then they looked at the workers and soldiers with their black eyes. The dead smiled at the living.

As those on top on the pile tumbled to the ground, those on the ground got to their feet, and started moving towards the living. Their mouths opened and they said ‘Join us!” in the native tongue.

Soldiers fired the weapons into the bodies of the dead. They had no effect.

Workers had their shovels in hand, but for every undead they dispatched, five more took their place.

The bulldoze driver was set upon by over 100 of the dead, who came tumbling down into the pit, then mounted the dozer, and tore him apart. The bulldozer was found covered in blood.

The rest of the workers and soldiers were feasted upon by the undead. Blood covered the scene, but very few identifying pieces of flesh or bone remained for burial, and there were no survivors.

They were later buried in the pit they had dug.

The mass of the undead then turned toward the capital city.

Of all the survivors, the people who survived best were locked in prison.