Legion of the Undead

by Michael Whitehead

  The party let them pass and saw what they were fleeing. A group of more than a dozen Risen were spread across the road and lurching after the survivors.

  Vitus gave the order to stop and form a defensive line. Without shields, the men spread out to made enough room for swords to swing.

  The first Risen reached them and were felled with ease. Professional soldiers with room to manoeuvre, cut deep into the creatures.

  One Risen had his neck damaged so severely that only his spine held his head in place. Without the aid of the neck muscles, it flopped backwards and the creature stumbled blindly about, staring out from its own back. It fouled the footing of a couple of following creatures, and three dead men went down in a heap.

  Lucia watched their backs while they fought, her dagger held out before her at a foe that wasn’t there, fear in her eyes. Vitus called out to her as he fought, trying to keep her from panicking and running. She was a strong girl but Vitus had seen grown men crumble at their first taste of battle. She held true, in fact the losses could have been total had she not kept her wits about her.

  The Risen horde they fought was thinning as she shouted that they were becoming caught between two groups. A second, larger cluster was rounding a corner behind them and they were greatly outnumbered.

  Vitus swung a long, wide arc with his gladius, almost cleaving the head of a Risen in two. The only sound it made was the thud of its body hitting the hard street.

  A second attacker leapt at him from fully ten feet away. The action almost caught him off his guard. The way they went from slow, lumbering ground beasts to agile, flying things was unnerving. It was all strength and no skill but it was difficult for a standing man to cope with.

  He ducked and turned, using the weight of his assailant against him. The monster fell at the feet of Lucia and she skewered it through the top of the head without hesitation.

  “Over here,” She cried.

  She was heading down a narrow alleyway to their left. The group disengaged and followed her, Antonius mounting a rear guard.

  The Risen were slower to react and the group ran hard between the tall tenements. The passage took a turn, first left and then right. Antonius stopped for a second and kicked the lead Risen in the chest, sending it sprawling back into the group that followed. He turned and caught up with the rest as they came to a wooden door half way up the side of one of the buildings.

  “We need to get inside!” Shouted Vitus, between sharp intakes of breath. Legionary Marcius backed up and threw himself at the door, which gave with a crash, and the party hurried inside.

  The room it opened onto was a small and squalid living space. It smelled of must and mould, there was little in the way of furniture, but they barricaded the door with a bed.

  There was a second door at the back of the room that opened onto a narrow stairway. Vitus felt like going up was the easiest way to get trapped, but with the Risen behind them and they had little choice.

  As they headed up the stairs, the outside door was filled with a number of Risen who fell into the room. Marcius turned, without hesitation and stepped back through the door.

  “Get the others to safety, sir!” He shouted, as he brandished his sword and blocked the doorway.

  Vitus saluted the soldier and turned to catch up with the rest. The stairway was narrow and steep, with a door on every landing. There was little point trying the rooms. They would only be the same as the one on the ground, without the benefit of a way out.

  As they reached the last door, Vitus heard a shout of pain from Marcius below. He winced at the sacrifice the man had made for the good of the group and sent up a silent prayer to any gods that might be listening.

  The last door opened up onto a flat roof that was edged by a low wall. The floor was slippery with moss from years of neglect.

  They slammed the door, and threw two heavy bolts to lock it. Panting, they looked around. The building was part of a terrace of houses so they could move left and right freely but the streets to the front and rear were wide enough to prevent them crossing that way. There was a heavy thump as the first of their pursuers hit the back of the door.

  They headed right across the rooftops, making for the only other obvious roof access which was at the far end of the tenement. They ran across the roofs, hopping the low dividing walls.

  It was as they crossed the third wall that the first Risen climbed over the edge of the building. A woman, who could have been in her mid forties before becoming one of the dead army.

  To see these creatures jump was surprising, to find out they could scale the sides of buildings was a total shock.

  Vitus ran to the creature as it landed on its feet and swept his gladius up in a haymaker of a chop. The end of his sword cleft the woman's chin, splitting her face and slicing into her brain.

  The sword stuck for a second but he placed his foot on her chest and kicked her away. She tumbled off the roof and out of sight. Vitus leaned over to see where she had fallen and regretted it immediately. Dozens of Risen were swarming up the sides of the tenement like rotting, vicious spiders.

  He turned to the others and shouted, “Run!”

  They didn’t hesitate, with Regulus in the lead, followed by Lucia, they sprinted towards the far roof and the door to the street. They hurdled the low walls and it was one of these and the moss that grew on it, that caused Antonius’ death.

  He was just behind Vitus, bringing up the rear. As he stepped onto one of the walls, his foot found a patch of moss. His leg went out sideways and he slipped, falling hard with his chest against the top of the wall. Vitus heard at least one of his ribs break.

  The Risen were on him in an instant. Vitus twisted and turned, slipping in his haste, in a vain attempt to help his friend. He swung wildly at the first and punched away a second, fighting in a frenzy.

  He was joined almost immediately by Tatius and Regulus. They hacked at the Risen as they lurched in to grab at Antonius but the fight was already lost.

  The dead were too numerous. Hands pulled at the big man’s legs, and mouths bit at his calves and thighs.

  He screamed in pain and fury. Vitus reached for his hand to pull him away, but it was far too late for that. The Risen swarmed at them, surrounding their prize and wanting more. The men fought them off as Antonius disappeared under a sea of rotting flesh.

  It was Lucia who got them out of there. Vitus was caught in a perfect frenzy of anger and would have fought himself into the grave had she not pulled at the back of his belt. The action brought him to his senses and he ordered the remaining men to retreat, leaving his oldest friend to be eaten alive.

  They fled down the stairs and onto the street. The numbers of dead were less down here but they required a fighting withdrawal to make it to safety.

  It came in the shape of the garrison barracks. They rounded a corner and the walled compound was halfway down the street.

  The place was home to the city guard, and while it would not hold many men, was at least designed to be defended if the need arose.

  The gate was ajar as they approached and Vitus shouted a warning before they entered, hoping not to get an arrow in the chest after all they had been through.

  The barracks were deserted. No human or Risen were in any of the rooms as they searched, so Vitus ordered the gates barred and Tatius, the sole remaining legionary, was posted as guard. He found a position where he could watch the street without being seen.

  With his people safe and guarded, Vitus leaned back against a wall and a wave of grief and shock washed over him.

  Antonius was dead, slaughtered by an enemy with no value for human life. They had always known that death might find them on a battlefield, face to face with an enemy who would kill you in order to preserve his own life. There was an honour there, it was a good ending.

  To be turned into no more than cattle, to be killed to fill an empty stomach, was horrific beyond measure. He felt hot tears sting his eyes and he roared in defiance and remorse.

>   Regulus and Lucia were huddled together in their grief and pity for one another. He envied them that and wished them well. He wiped at his eyes. Now was not the time to slip into self pity, they needed all their wits about them if they were to survive this damned city and the army of the dead that hunted them.

  He looked up to the gate and the guard who was crouched out of sight of the outside world.

  “What do you see soldier?” Marcius looked down at him as he spoke.

  “There are more civilians than Risen out there, sir. It seems our pursuers have found easier prey.” There was a moment between them as they both thought of the men, of the friends, they had lost that day.

  “Very good. I’ll send some food out to you. Shout if we are needed.” With that, Vitus walked inside to the others.

  He found the two of them sat at a long table. They were both nursing a drink and a fire burned in the grate, evidently the city guard had been here not too long ago.

  Nothing in the barracks gave them any indication as to whether the guard were out trying to do their job, or had simply joined the exodus from the city.

  “I fear I have brought us all to ruin,” he said to the pair.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” began Lucia, “But I’m fairly certain there has never been a general in history that didn’t lose a single soldier in battle.”

  Vitus tried to smile at her. “I’m no general, Lucia.”

  “That’s right, you're not. You are, from what I have been told, and from what I’ve seen, a soldier who is trying to do a job for which he hasn’t been trained. A man, who is taking the weight of the future of the empire on his shoulders, and a friend who saved my life not so many days ago.

  “So before you start apologising, I want to tell you how much I respect you, all of you. We will all miss Antonius, you more than anyone, but his death is not down to you. It is down to those animals out there and whatever brought them to being.”

  She stopped and looked slightly embarrassed. She wasn’t used to making speeches and most definitely not to grown men, legionaries, no less.

  Vitus looked at her warmly, before he walked over to her and kissed her on the top of the head.

  “Thank you.” It was all he could say, and it was all that was necessary.

  Regulus spoke up, finally. “They’re getting stronger. You must have seen. The way they climbed those buildings, they couldn’t do that back at the camp. If it continues, we won’t know what we are dealing with from one day to the next.

  “If you ask me, we need to move sooner rather than later. I think we stand a better chance of getting out of here while there are still plenty of people to give us cover. We should eat while we can and then make a break for the road again. Hopefully our horses will still be there.”

  “Agreed. See what food you can find in here and we can regroup after we've eaten.

  He made his way back out into the yard and stared into the smoke blackened sky. Was this the future for the empire, or could a solution be found in Rome? All they could do was get there and hope that the letter he carried from Governor Clemens would be enough to help them turn back this tide of evil.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The man who stood before Praetor Domitius was small and grubby. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand unconsciously.

  The praetor grimaced inwardly, hating the idea that this man was in his house, even though he knew most of it was an act and in fact, he was one of the richest men in Rome.

  He was a base man, low in almost every way. He made money out of the misery of others and hid in plain sight by affecting no show of wealth.

  Domitius had summoned the man to his home, which was a sign of just how desperate things were getting in Rome.

  The praetor had been handed the role of investigating the disappearances in the capital, and so far had turned up less than nothing. He had turned to the street gangs for information and this man was the leader of one such gang.

  His influence spread across large parts of the city. His money lenders and labour agents had so many fingers in so many pies that he was the most informed man in Rome.

  Civic leaders and government officials only saw what happened on the surface of the lake, this man saw the movement of all the weeds and fish under the water. He called himself Anguis, the snake. A name most men would rail against, but it was a mark of the man that he celebrated such a title.

  Domitius sat behind a large desk that was covered with papers and pretended to be busy for a moment before he looked up at Anguis. It would not do to let the man know how desperate he was becoming to solve the riddle of the missing people.

  He had been handed the job of special investigator by Emperor Vespasian himself. At first the disappearances had been a minor irritation to the senate. A few people, and then a couple of dozen had gone missing over the space of a week.

  None of the victims had been of any note. It hadn’t stopped though and soon the emperor had taken an interest. The numbers had reached frightening levels, over a thousand people missing.

  Early on, a member of a prominent family had joined the list of the missing but since then, the rich had been able to protect themselves well enough to rise above the problem.

  By the time Vespasian had named Domitius as the man responsible for finding out what was happening, the number of missing had reached one thousand three hundred. That had been more than a week ago and the list was still growing.

  A state of emergency had been imposed on the city. The streets were to be emptied by dark, and the Praetorian guard were walking the city from dusk until dawn.

  At first the missing people had disappeared from the docks, and other less desirable areas of the city. The earliest of them had all been drunk the last time they had been seen. Easy targets. Since then, people had been taken in the middle of the day with no witnesses, and even from their own homes. It was a mystery of unfathomable proportions.

  Domitius looked up at the gang leader and raised an eyebrow. The man lowered his head and Domitius felt his heart sink.

  “Well? Don’t you have anything to tell me?”

  “Sir.” He paused, unable to admit his failure. “Praetor, nobody in the city has any idea what is going on. I’ve spoken to all my capos, and they have spoken to all of their men and...nothing.” He shrugged as he said the last word, and it made Domitius want to reach over his desk and wring the man's neck.

  “Well somebody must know something!” He shouted. “For this many people to be missing, there must be a small army of men taking them. Are there no new gangs in the city? Or should I suspect one of the older gangs? Your own, for instance?”

  “No praetor, we would never. In fact more than one of the missing men is from our own organisation.” The snake sounded like he would continue so Domitius held up a hand to stop him.

  In fact, this man had been chosen for the very fact that Domitius was sure he was not involved in the disappearances. The men from his organisation, as he put it, had been taken on the Praetor's orders. They had suffered badly at the hands of a couple of agents working for Domitius. One could never be too careful about who was working for you.

  “So if there are no new gangs and no existing gangs involved, tell me Anguis, what do you think is going on in Rome?”

  “I wish I knew, praetor. Normally there is someone willing to talk. Money normally does the trick and if not money, then violence. We have tried both but so far, there is no-one who is willing to even make something up in order to claim the reward. It’s as if everyone is scared they will be the next one to go missing.” He paused for a second, and very quietly added, “I know I am.”

  “Very well, see my secretary on your way out, he will organise your payment. I will call on you if I require your service again. In the meantime, if any information should come your way, consider it already paid for.”

  The snake backed out of the room, with a short nod to the praetor, and was gone. Domitius rubbed his face with both hands.

  This
saga could well be the end of him. His career in the senate was steady but far from amazing. Having reached Praetorian rank, he was fairly sure he had reached his pinnacle. Failure now could well see his time at this lofty height cut short as well. Vespasian was not a vindictive emperor, but he had made it clear that this matter was an embarrassment to him and he wanted it cleared away as quickly as possible.

  Another visit to Opius Sulpicius Otho, Praetorian Prefect was the logical next step. A man he found equally as loathsome as the snake that had just left his office. The reasons were entirely different but the resulting dislike was just as profound.

  The man was vicious to the point of taking obvious enjoyment in it. Every word he uttered had the weight of his cohorts behind it. There were very few men in the senate who were comfortable standing up to Otho, and even those few were weary after crossing his path.

  Domitius had tried arranging meetings with the prefect in the Praetor's home but Otho had refused to come. Making it obvious that he considered it beneath him, to be the one to travel across the city.

  Instead, he had forced Domitius to make his way to the barracks of the Praetorian guard. A place in which he felt singularly uncomfortable. The praetor had done the minimum armed service he could, in order to further his political career. This experience had left him with a deep dislike of anything military, a fact of which he was sure Prefect Otho was fully aware.

  Domitius rang a small bell on his desk. The door to his office was immediately opened by his man servant, Paulus. Tall and thin, with receding hair, Paulus was a man who seemed to float around rather than walk. His limbs almost seemed to have too many joints in them.

  Domitius had kept him around for the past fifteen years and had never quite gotten used to the man's appearance. Still, he was extremely efficient and that was the main thing.

  “Send a boy to Otho, Paulus. Ask him if he can join me for a drink this evening. When he refuses, tell the boy to ask him when I can come to him for a meeting.”

  “Very good, sir. Will there be anything else.”