Legion of the Undead

by Michael Whitehead

  “I would like to hear whatever Domitius has to say first hand, thank you, Otho.” He nodded to Domitius. “You have done the empire a great service today, both of you,” he said moving his gaze from Domitius to Vitus. “I would be grateful if you would do us another and tell us what you have found out in this matter.”

  Vitus glanced at Otho and saw him mask a look of irritation just a little too slowly. The prefect bowed his head to the emperor and then nodded.

  “As you wish, Caesar. Would you like me to stay for the report, or shall I leave you?”

  “Of course I need you to stay, Otho. Gods, you are my right hand in these matters, but I do like to get my hands dirty on occasion. Please don’t take it as such an insult when I do.”

  Otho gave a weak smile and turned to Domitius, waiting.

  Vespasian called for more chairs and soon the three men were seated. Vitus stood to one side, at attention, as Domitius laid out the information he had gathered about Tertius Sextius Colias.

  He explained about the pattern of the disappearances and his suspicion that the shipping business and warehouses of Colias were in some way linked to the missing people.

  Otho and Vespasian were quiet at first and then began to ask more questions. Vitus listened intently to all that was being said. Domitius warmed to his topic, expanding theories and answering queries from both men. Eventually the three men were silent for a moment.

  Otho was first to speak. “Caesar, with your permission, I will send a unit of men to the docks to investigate the warehouses in question.”

  Vespasian looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded his head.

  “Tell them to be subtle, Otho. Closing the gates is going to cause enough unrest. If the people are there, I want them freed, obviously. In any other circumstance, they are to report back to the senate this evening.

  “This whole situation has the potential for disaster and I will not have armed men crashing around Rome, making it worse.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Servilia Ventula was shaking uncontrollably. At first she hadn’t known she was doing it, now she was aware but could do nothing to stop it.

  On top, her mind was vainly attempting to remain calm. Underneath, she was aware that a growing swell of panic was rising to a level that would soon burst. She was trying to focus on her situation in the hope that she could do something to save herself. She had no idea how long she had been in this place, or even where she was.

  When she had first been brought here she had been thrown inside and the darkness had been total. Then, over the hours that followed, her eyes had adjusted and she had seen her surroundings with more clarity.

  As soon as she had arrived, following the cart ride, she had known she was not the only one being held here. She had heard people shuffling and coughing but had been too scared to call out.

  There had been a relief of sorts. The blindfold had at last been removed from her eyes. Even the darkness of the warehouse was not as oppressive as that. Was this a warehouse? She thought it must be. It was large, with a high ceiling.

  There turned out to be many more people sharing her cell than she had first thought, a couple of hundred, at least. As the darkness had turned to mere dimness, she had seen the armed men standing around them.

  How long had it been since she had eaten or drunk anything? She really couldn’t be sure. It had been days, certainly.

  She had fled Mutina. One of the first to leave the city she had, almost blindly, headed south in hopes of reaching Rome.

  She had spent the first night sleeping at the side of the road. She had watched the orange glow of Mutina burning behind her and then, finally, exhaustion had taken her.

  When she had woken the next day, the road was busy with people fleeing the city. She had tried to join a few groups but people had only their own survival on their minds.

  That night had been spent much as the previous one. The glow of the burning city had become a faint haze on the skyline.

  The following evening she had been staggering along the road, when a cart had pulled alongside her. Two men had jumped out and bundled her into the back. It had been the work of seconds and she hadn’t had the strength to cry out, never mind fight.

  Her stomach no longer felt hunger, just a hollow, bottomless yearning. Her arms and legs were leaden and numb. Partly from the cold of this place, the sun was never given a chance to warm the air in here. Partly from the hours she had spent on the floor, unable to do more than adjust her position from sitting to kneeling.

  Once, she had tried to stand up, just to stretch her legs. One of the guards, a young man with short dark hair, had clubbed her with his sword hilt and knocked her to the ground. She wasn’t sure but she thought that might have been when her shaking had started.

  A short while ago the monotonous routine of waiting had been broken by a flurry of activity at the far end of the warehouse.

  The guards had started dragging groups of people out. Maybe twenty at a time were being pulled to their feet and roughly forced through a small door. So far, none of them had returned.

  Vitus stood and stared at the crowd gathered outside the senate house. The senators had started to arrive as afternoon turned to evening and with them, it seemed, came half of Rome.

  The crowd was angry, if their shouts were anything by which to judge. Word that the gates to the city had been closed had spread fast, and anger and suspicion had begun to make its way across the city.

  Merchants were complaining that their goods were stuck outside the walls and others, that they needed to get home to outlying farms and villages.

  This news, followed by the sight of senators rushing towards the senate house, had infused the people with a sense of mild panic. Guards lined the steps, stood to attention for the time being but Vitus was sure they would strike anyone foolish enough to make their way towards the doors.

  Vitus was under orders from Emperor Vespasian to attend the meeting. Under normal circumstances an honour. None but a few had ever been granted attendance. Today, however, it was a chore that Vitus would gladly have forgone.

  As the last expected senator made his way inside, the doors were closed with a dull thud. Vitus turned towards the hall and the gathered masses of toga clad dignitaries.

  The noise was that of any large gathering. Each small group talking among themselves, getting louder as the group next to them tried to make themselves heard in turn. Vitus heard snatches of questions as he stood at the back of the chamber.

  Just at the point where the impatience in the room was beginning to swell, Emperor Vespasian entered the chamber from a small door in the wall. The noise immediately fell away to silence.

  He was accompanied by Domitius, Otho and a couple of guards. Domitius and Otho made there their way to a bench close to the emperor and the guards stood to attention at his back.

  The message was clear, Otho and Domitius were privy to the meeting's details and were important parts of the proceedings to come.

  “Gentlemen, thank you for coming at such short notice. We have difficult things to discuss and not much time in which to make some hard decisions.”

  There was a rustle of whispers that flittered around the room, but all eyes were on Caesar Vespasian.

  “I have grave news from Germania and newer and even graver news from nearer home. There is a lot of which to inform you, and more information to gather.

  “We will start at the beginning and work through it. Much of what I am about to say will be hard to hear and some will be almost impossible to believe, but believe it you must.

  “The very fate of Rome and the greater empire may depend on how we react in the coming hours. I have an envoy from Germania here with us to answer questions, but I beg that you listen and hear everything I have to say before that time.”

  Vitus felt a chill go down his spine. The words were powerful but the importance of what came after those words could not be measured.

  He looked around the room and saw
a sea of faces. Some looked confused, while others wore a mask of relaxed attention. Those men held the future of Rome in their hands. Vitus just hoped it would be enough.

  The warehouse around Servilia was half empty when she saw a fresh group of men enter. She sat, resting her chin lightly on the head of a young girl who sat in her arms, crying.

  She saw one of the guards enter the warehouse and head towards the man Servilia suspected of being the leader. None of the men she had seen so far wore any kind of uniform but the way they acted towards this one particular man, had made him the leader in her eyes.

  There was a quick discussion and then a flurry of activity. The new men spread themselves out among the usual guards and started passing on orders. The guard nearest Servilia waited until one of the newer men passed him, then grabbed him and asked what was happening.

  “We have new orders from the boss. It seems news has finally got out and he wants us to speed up the plan. We need to push the rest through as quickly as we can.”

  The guard nodded and spoke up to the remaining people on the warehouse floor.

  “Right people, on your feet.”

  He kicked out at an elderly man who was slowly trying to gain his footing after so long sitting on the hard floor. The elderly man sprawled out and a couple of women stepped forward to help him.

  “Now listen to me,” The leader shouted. “I want two lines starting at that door over there, and I want them now.” He waited a few seconds and when nobody moved he bellowed, “NOW!”

  The group began to move towards the door and before too long, there were two lines of scared and confused people. Many were crying and more than one of them had lost control of their bladders, judging by the smell.

  Out of the blue, a man with long, unwashed hair and dark skin ran from the line. He bolted towards the door through which the recent group of guards had arrived. He was squealing as he ran. Not a shout but a high pitched keening, almost animal in its primal fear.

  The guard who was issuing the orders almost lazily said,

  “Someone bring him back to me.”

  A second captor stepped from the shadows near the door and drove a blade into the runner’s side. He caught the fleeing man as he slumped over the blade.

  The chief guard threw his hands up in exasperation.

  “Exactly what good is he to us, if we kill him before we've used him?” There was a smile on his face as he said it and even in her shocked state, Servilia could see that this man was having fun. Something inside her finally snapped.

  “What are you going to do with us?” She asked, and stepped out of line towards the boss.

  Almost immediately a younger guard stepped towards her with the hilt of his sword ready to strike her.

  “Wait,” The boss said. “It’s a fair question, I guess and I never want anyone to say that Ursus isn’t a fair man.” He walked towards Servilia, looking into her eyes as he did. She bore his gaze for as long as she could, but her shaking became so bad she feared her legs would buckle and she looked away.

  He reached towards her chin and gently but firmly turned her face back towards him.

  “You, my lady, are to be given an opportunity, an honour, some would say. You are going to be the instrument by which Rome is made strong again.

  “My boss is of the opinion, and I agree with him, that Rome has become weak. The blood that once ran in its veins has been watered down and made thin.

  “You, all of you, are to be the hammer with which my boss breaks the weak links of the chain, so that it can be recast and made whole again, you understand?” He looked almost kindly into her eyes. Her will broke and she began to cry.

  “I’m scared, I just want this to end. Please.” Her hands shook as she grasped at the front of his tunic. Tears streamed down her face and clear mucus ran from her nose.

  “How could I refuse such a beauty? It just so happens I have a special job for you. The boss wants a little demonstration, and you just volunteered for the role,” he said and beckoned to one of his men.

  “Take her through and wait for me. Start with the injured one and process him first. Then I want us doing ten to a group and two groups at a time. The boss wants us finished in an hour.”

  The man asked, “Shall I take another one out of the pen, so we can work on two at once?”

  The boss nodded, “You might have to get one of the men to hold it, so make sure they're careful.”

  As she was dragged away, Servilia began to scream. Her dry and parched throat was not up to the job, her mouth was open but no sound came out.

  The senate meeting was in an uproar. Dozens of men were trying to make themselves heard. Others were in violent discussion with their neighbours.

  At first the leaders and statesmen of the empire had sat in dignified silence as Vespasian had begun his speech. As he moved through the details, the crowd had become restless and there had been shouts of anger and even derisive laughter. These grounded and sensible men were not to be easily convinced of such things as the walking dead, or the fall of Mutina it seemed.

  At one point, a number of the senators had stood up and begun making their way towards the doors, in a show of outrage. They had been called from their homes and families to be told a child's tale of monsters.

  Otho had motioned to the guards on the door, and they had barred the exit. Vespasian had shouted over the crowd that the senators were free to leave, but begged them to retake their seats. The senators had finally rejoined their fellows on the benches.

  Vespasian had moved on to the fall of Mutina, and that was when the message had begun to sink in. Vitus had become aware of a change in the mood as the report was given, and it quickly became evident why.

  A number of the men in the room had heard reports from various sources about Mutina. With no official word, they assumed it was baseless rumour. Now those reports were adding substance to the news they had heard this evening.

  Vitus tried to follow the debate as well as he could. Without knowing who these men were by sight however, he was at a loss as to who, other than the emperor, held the power in the room.

  There was a central figure who seemed to control the debate. Vitus watched him pass the chance to speak from one senator to the next. He pointed to a man on the front row of benches with grey hair and some of the deepest lines on his face Vitus had ever seen.

  “Even if the reports on Mutina are to be believed, are we really going to sit here and seriously discuss the fact that dead men are coming to life and attacking the living? It’s preposterous!” He almost shouted the final two words.

  Vespasian nodded to him and replied, “Praetor Septius, I wholeheartedly agree. I cannot imagine anything harder to believe.”

  He waited while a clamour of noise filled the chamber and then died away again.

  “I do, however, have a written report from the highly respected Governor Clemens. On top of which, I have a verbal report from Centurion Protus and a number of civilians, including the niece of Praetor Domitius.

  “I am, at this point, unwilling to believe anything of such magnitude without verification, but I have to say, confirmation of the fall of Mutina adds credence to the information we already have.

  “The fact stands that we have had no report of a slave revolt and no information about an invading army. This means that while we wait for confirmation, we also have no evidence to contradict matters as they have been presented to us.”

  ***

  Servilia was roughly pushed through the door and into a second, smaller room.

  The first thing she saw was the creature chained to the wall in almost exactly the same way that she herself had secured her own monster at the party. She pulled and jerked at the men holding her arms as she saw it, but her feet lost purchase on the floor and the hands that held her were much too strong.

  As she struggled, she glanced down at her feet and saw the floor was thick with a red-black fluid that could only be spilled blood.

  He mind reeled and
she heard herself saying, “Please, don’t let it kill me,” over and over under her breath.

  The guards held her in front of the creature for what seemed like an age to her panicked mind, but eventually the voice of the leader spoke behind her left ear. She jerked as she heard him speak.

  “You should consider yourself lucky. You get the chance to live just a little longer than all those unfortunates in the other room. You see, the moment I’m done with you, we will bring them in here and let that thing bite them. Not too much, I mean, we want our prizes to be as strong as they can be, don’t we?

  "First though, there is you. My boss wants something to show his friends. You see, they are a difficult lot to convince when it comes down to it, so he wants to give them a demonstration. Something to prove to them that he has their best interests at heart. One final push to show them that he is the man they should turn to in their hour of need. A little something to prove to them that their hour of need has arrived.”

  Servilia tried once more to struggle out of the grip of her captors. Her feet slipped, and then became sticky on the spilled blood, but nothing was going to free her from their hold. She twisted and struggled, wrenching herself in their grip.

  As she did, she realised for the first time that the room was much bigger than she had first thought. The main space in the room was taken up by a huge cage. Thousands of rotting hands reached for her from between the bars. The dead stared as she was dragged towards her fate.

  The leader signalled to the men, who thrust her forward towards the snarling teeth of the creature. His black gums and broken teeth ground the air in an attempt to get to her flesh. His neck was stretched almost to the point that it seemed it must break, as Servilia kicked out at him. She may as well have been kicking the wall itself for all the effect she had.

  The only mercy, as the Risen bit a mouthful of flesh from her shoulder, was that her mind finally snapped under the gaze of the dead man. She didn’t feel the pain as her flesh was ripped from her because she was no longer truly there.