In the tasting room, fallen chairs and spilled wine glasses reflected a hasty exit. No guest would dare re-enter the place after witnessing the pouring of the first varietal. Still, the party had not ended for the uninvited, who once laid contorted and buried beneath the hearty vineyard that covered their mass grave.

The uninvited awakened upon the popping of the first cork in a blush red wine. After the bottle was set to breathe, the head of the first corpse, Emil, escaped the mass gravesite and reanimate his breath. The aroma emitted from the bottle called to him, his brother and a hundred other men, as they smelled not a sweet wine, but the fragrance of their own life blood that nurtured the grapes.

As they broke free, they remembered their fate, massacred by evil doers who have kept the secret of their gendercide and entombment. But their loss has not been forgotten. The still tears of their loved ones grants them the strength to claw through dirt and perished limbs to meet the sun for the first time in nearly fifteen years.

Inside the tasting room, the guests gathered around the sommelier, readying their glasses as he prepared to pour the blush red wine. But the guests stepped back when a rancid and thick crimson liquid poured out from the bottle and into the first glass. The wine taster gasped, then screamed and dropped the blood filled stemware she held. Shards of glass and blood united in splatters across the concrete floor.

The crowd turned truculent, guests criticizing what they thought was an evil joke. Then the room fell silent when the doors of the tasting room thrust open, announcing the arrival of the uninvited guests. Emil, with his brother at his side, led the way, half limping toward the tables. An uproar began as the invited guests ran for the emergency exits. The owner of the vineyard picked up a bottle and swung it at an invader, forcing the undead man to the ground. Seconds later, the corpse lifted his rotted flesh and bones, and recommenced toward Emil, where his leader handed bottles and glasses to his mates.

While the room emptied of the living, the undead filled their glasses with the juice of their blood. Emil stood at the front, readied for the toast. He lifted his glass and said, “A toast to you all, who have arisen with me and my brother from our shared grave.” The undead cheered. “And a toast to those who put us there and to those who did nothing to stop them.” A moan replaced the cheer. “Be not weary my friends, for their evil misjudgment will not go forgotten or forgiven. They await their punishment for their atrocities.” Glasses lifted and clanked, and they drank to the toast, sipping the blood that was once theirs. Then Emil lifted his glass once more. “Follow me my friends. To our revenge.”