Epilogue
Shangri-La. El Dorado. Camelot. Whittier, Alaska. Each of these places held mythic properties during its time. Well, three out of four did anyway. Whittier was at least real, an attribute the other cities couldn’t claim, though Whittier’s shine was much less shimmering. Each, however, attracted the attentions and affections of some very enthusiastic seekers during its day.
Whittier, again as opposed to its municipal brethren, was also in a position to be able to deliver on its purported promises. This was primarily due to the proverbial expectations bar having been set so low because of the track record of the others. None seemed to ever be able to deliver.
El Dorado was the lost city of gold sought out by Conquistadors from the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. The lucky soul or souls who happened upon its storied halls was rewarded with untold riches and a lifetime of spending without any care given to earning. Entire fortunes were spent pursuing the elusive city and yet no one was ever able to lay hands on the mythic and epic treasure.
Shangri-La was a peaceful utopia, free of want and aging in a turbulent world full of suffering and loss. A cast of seekers ranging from Tibetan Monks to wayward adventurers sought the undying lands which always managed to stay just one step away despite entire lifetimes devoted to searching.
On the other hand, there was Whittier, Alaska. It wasn’t a bad place, nor did it always deserve the playful moniker “Shittier” to which it was referred by regional locals. The weather was typically lousy but the fishing was most often good. Truth be told, there really wasn’t much Whittier to Whittier.
It was a nice community, once upon a time, but that wasn’t the present draw for Neil and his companions. They sought neither gold nor other treasure. They weren’t even on the hunt for an epic fishing trip as promised by many a charter fishing brochure. Neil, Jerry, Emma, and the others were looking for the peace of Shangri-La without the utopian visions. They wanted to find a place where they could just stop running and let some moss begin to grow.
With Whittier so close but still separated from them by a door of titan proportions, they couldn’t know if the town was a sanctuary waiting on the other side or a Pandora’s Box of suffering waiting to be cracked open. There was no way of knowing, short of finding a way beyond the barrier.
There was nowhere left for them to run.
And so the final leg of the Alaskan Undead Apocalypse will play out in Whittier in Resolution.
Table of Contents
PART I
Prologue
PART II
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
PART III
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Fifty-Four
Fifty-Five
Fifty-Six
Fifty-Seven
Fifty-Eight
Fifty-Nine
Sixty
Sixty-One
Sixty-Two
Sixty-Three
Sixty-Four
Sixty-Five
Epilogue