Its a tale that starts deep in the woods. My girlfriend, Linda, and I drove to,what we thought was an abandoned cabin. Seems an archeologist had come to this place to translate and study his latest find: Necronomicon Ex Mortis. The Book of the Dead. Bound in human flesh and inked in blood, this bitch of ancient Sumerian text contained bizarre burial rights, funeral incantations, and demon resurrection passages.. It was never meant for the world of the living.
When Linda played back the good doctors recordings all hell broke loose.
Literally.
The book awoke something dark in the woods, something evil. It took Linda. Then it came after me, it got into my hand and it went bad, so I lopped it off at the wrist with a chainsaw. So I did what any self respecting S-Mart housewares employee would do in that situation. I fashioned a harness so I could put the chainsaw in place of my hand, and turned an old Remington double-barreled shotgun into a bad ass 'boomstick'.
By the end of the night I'd hacked and blasted my way through all the poor son of bitches that had shown up and were possessed by the evil. Wound up opening a portal though time to stop the monster, and got sucked in myself and tossed back to 1300 A.D. Rounded out the whole ordeal by creating a robot hand, saving a Duke from execution, and helping a medieval kingdom fight off an invasion of the walking dead called, Deadites.
An invasion that was in no way my fault, mind you. I'm just a nice guy that way.
Yep, ol' Ash could have been king if I had stayed, but it wasn't my place, wasn't my time. So their wise men gave me some crap to drink, said a few magic words and I was back at the S-Mart before you could shake a boomstick. Whatever voodoo juice they gave me was some powerful juju. I feel like I've barely aged a day.
Sometimes I wonder if those 'wise guys' knew something I didn't.
I've kept my eyes and ears open for any sign of the book since I got back. Two weeks ago one of my sources, a guy named Bobby, told me of a "Book of the Dead" selling on eBay. Wouldn't be that big of a deal, collector crap like that sells all the time. But this one came with a set of reel to reel tapes from some unknown estate. Something's definately rotten in Denmark.
Bobby hooked me up with a tracking charm, nothing to fancy. Evil that powerful and you can't miss it. The thing lead me here.
Smallville, Kansas. Population 26702.
Despite the boring ass cornfields that have been my only company their claim is the be the meteor capital of the world. Big whoop. If I don't make it before some poor sucker plays those tapes or reads from that back, well, their gonna be the Deadite capital of the world.
Hell's come to Smallville, and I'm hear to kick its ass.
I'm Ashely J. Williams; call me Ash.
A/N: This story does not include the continutity of any of the Evil Dead game series or comic books.
