Indecision gripped him as he stared at them. Should he stay and protect his family or did he owe it to them to stand and fight against the terror that threatened them?
He looked over to the table where his cleaver lay reflecting the scant candlelight and then back to his son’s face. He rushed over to the table and grasped the cleaver, relishing the familiar weight.
He turned back to his wife. She didn’t look up at him but stared at the floor, unmoving.
“I have to go, my love. Rome needs me, and I can’t sit idle while other men defend our home.
“Stay here, don’t go outside. I will come back for you both.”
He looked at her for any sign of reaction but nothing came. Tulius looked up at him and held out a hand to his father. Garic took the hand and then bent to kiss both of them on the head.
“I love you both,” he said and turned to the door. He unlocked it and stepped through to join the group in the street. He locked the door behind him and hid the key under a loose brick.
The men were just reaching Garic’s house as he stepped into the road. His appearance caused a cheer from the group and more than one beckoned him to join their ranks. One of the soldiers in the center shouted out to him as he stepped forward.
“Another brave soul come to defend the city and its people, welcome friend.” Garic smiled a weak smile, hoping he could live up to the reception he had received.
“Do you know how to fight the rotten bastards, friend?” The biggest of the soldiers asked him, while slapping a heavy hand on his back.
“I’m no fighter, but I’m willing to try. I’m a butcher and I know how to chop meat, it’s not usually moving, though.” Garic laughed at his own joke and felt a little braver.
The big man let out a huge roar of a laugh and slapped Garic’s back once more.
“Hit them in the head and don’t get bitten, butcher. That’s all there is to it.”
Garic nodded and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He glanced around at his fellows and saw the same look of tension and fear he felt in his own heart.
Despite the noise of the group, it was a while before they came into contact with any of the Risen.
A group of three rounded a corner, shambling and aimless. Garic saw their demeanour change the instant they saw his group.
Their arms stopped dangling at their sides, to reaching into the air before them, flailing at targets much too far away. Their pace quickened almost to an ungainly run. Garic had time to think that they seemed to be almost at the point of falling but never quite tripped and went to the floor.
The Risen covered the distance between them and the men in surprisingly quick time. At the last second they went from a run to a low jump, hitting the men in the center of the line hard.
The biggest legionary swung his sword over hand down into the back of the dead thing's skull. It crumpled to the floor, lifeless, before it made contact with the line. The other two Risen hit their target's almost simultaneously.
The second soldier rolled his hip and allowed the weight of the Risen to carry it past him, off balance. He stepped over the falling creature and drove his sword into its head. It was a move of skill and precision.
The man, next to Garic was bowled off his feet by the impact. He was knocked into the man behind him and the two sprawled on the floor with the Risen on top of them.
Garic reacted by instinct and stepped towards the snarling, slashing thing. He brought his cleaver down into the creature's brain as he had done to a thousand animal carcasses.
The blow was hard and true and the Risen slumped into the man below him. The face of the dead man briefly lay nose to nose with its intended prey before the man wriggled and shoved his way free.
The man stood up and grasped Garic by the neck, pulling him close to his face.
“I owe you my life, brother,” he said with a shocked and manic smile on his face.
The group around them cheered loud and hard, and Garic felt his spirits lift. He was out here, defending his family, and his city, and nothing about that felt wrong. He could do this. He would do this!
They fought on, street by street, new men and even a couple of women joining them as they went. They encountered small groups mostly, and Garic swung his cleaver with the rest. He took his share of the killing, and each time his heart hardened a little more, until it felt full of iron. He lost track of where in the city they were but none of that mattered. After days of sitting scared, this felt so right.
The group of fighters had grown to almost fifty in number when they encountered the largest group of dead. They reached the end of a wide road and turned into a market place.
Some stalls were still standing, full of wares that the owners had deserted in their haste to flee. Others were destroyed and emptied, either in the panic that the Risen had spread, or by looters.
Dozens of the dead were milling around, almost like market day shoppers. They weaved in and out of the stalls, as if in a maze from which they hadn’t the wit to break out.
Before the group of men could back away and formulate a plan, the nearest Risen saw them and came to life. She made no noise, and couldn’t have shouted if she had wanted to, as half of her face was missing. However, as she reacted to the appearance of the small army of people, a wave seemed to pass among the dead.
Garic watched them twitch into awareness and turn towards the group, starting with those nearest and working its way out. It was as if a fire had started and been blown by the wind, touching each dead creature in turn.
For the first time that day, the group of fighters were outnumbered. The men at the front tried to turn but the men at the back were slow to react. There was chaos in the ranks as the first Risen reached their prey.
The leaders at the front tried to steady their troops, but these were not trained legionaries, they were civilians trying to act braver than they felt. As the first Risen fell on them like eagles on rabbits, the resolve of the men dissolved.
Garic stood firm and took the first attacker out of the air, his cleaver cutting a dark stain across the dead woman’s forehead. She fell and blocked the path of the creature behind her, giving him a second to find his bearings.
At the far end of the line, men were downed and the Risen were falling on them, biting and clawing. Screams filled the silent city, so much louder than any of the shouts that the makeshift army had produced.
Garic watched one of the women scrambling away from an attacker on her hands and knees. She almost made it. A grey and rotting hand latched onto her ankle and she was dragged into a pack of the dead, crying for help.
The legionaries in the center of the line were cutting a wide swath in the dead horde, but men were falling all around them. Garic looked and saw that the group was now a single line, with no-one behind them. He took a deep breath and bellowed above the sound of fighting.
“Men, the space behind you is empty, take a step back and we can begin to retreat.”
A Risen lunged at him out of the crowd and he swung his cleaver wildly, almost removing its head.
He looked to his right and saw the remaining fighters take a step back. It was ragged and uncoordinated, but it gave the men some space to swing the weapons they held.
The space in front of them was soon filled with Risen, but not before Garic saw the fallen fighters and the dead that fed on them. They took a further step back and swung again, more of the creatures fell.
The attack was beginning to fade, as the remaining Risen began to realise there was food on the floor in front of them and they lost interest in the live flesh that still fought them.
“We need to back away while we can,” one of the legionaries said, and the remaining men began to do as he ordered.
“Do it slowly and carefully, we don't want anyone else going down. Butcher, turn around and make sure we aren’t backing into more danger.”
Garic did as he was told, trusting his back to the men he fought alongside. The screams of the dying still loud in h
is ears, as the monsters tore at their living flesh. The retreating men, tense with their inability to help the victims, backed away and around the corner.
As they cleared the square and were out of sight, they looked to their leaders for direction. Garic saw, with dismay, that panic was creeping into the eyes of both men. Seasoned as they appeared to be, they were obviously out of their depth and the strain was beginning to show.
Garic spoke to the group between deep panting breaths. “We need to put some distance between us and them. At least until we have regrouped.”
The legionaries nodded and began to jog away from the market square. Garic was sure they had no idea where they were heading, but anywhere was better than where they had just been.
The group began to move through the streets at a steady pace and after the loss of life and alarm of the market place, Garic began to feel the mood alter slightly. The air that had been drenched with panic, was now thick with anger.
A new group of the dead were milling around at the top of the street, but before they could react to the living, the legionaries led them down a narrow alleyway between two buildings. Garic was one of the last to turn off the street and as he lost sight of the Risen, he saw the nearest ones notice their presence.
“They saw us and they’re coming!” He shouted to the men at the front.
The alleyway was too narrow for the remaining men to run too fast, but the pace quickened as much as it could. Garic found himself trying to run and look behind him. He felt the heels of the man in front with the front of his sandals and nearly went down, steadying himself in a panic before he fell.
The group reached the far end of the alleyway just as the first Risen appeared in the opening through which the men had entered. Garic pushed past a couple of men in order to give those following him the chance to clear the alleyway.
The legionaries turned to face the oncoming dead, blocking the alleyway with their bulk, and leaving no room for the others to fight.
Garic turned to see where they were. It was an affluent street with large town houses. Shutters barred every window he could see and nothing moved, except his own band of brothers.
Every boy had heard the tale of Thermopylae and King Leonidas, and Garic saw that they could hold this entrance for a while.
The dead would not be able to get to them in great numbers ,and with the best fighters to the front the advantage was briefly with the living.
He also knew, as did every boy who had ever heard the story of King Leonidas, that the pass could not be held forever. He had a brief but strong yearning to just turn his tail and run, to leave the men he had fought beside to their fate and leave just go. The moment passed as quickly as it had come, yet left a deep sense of shame in its wake.
There was a shout behind him and to his amazement, he saw the archer who had saved his life earlier in the day. He stood silhouetted in a doorway across the street. He was shouting words that Garic could not make out but the arm gestures were unmistakable.
He shouted to the men around him, and pointed toward sanctuary. Men began to run as soon as they saw the chance for safety, sprinting into the house.
Garic shouted to the two men in front that safety was a few yards away, but they were in a fight for their lives, the dead piling up at their feet. Garic shouted one more time, and then his resolve broke. He ran for the doorway, and in past the man who had now saved his life twice.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Vitus held the door open and watched the two legionaries who were forming a human barrier that held back a horde of the dead. He recognised Tatius and Gallus, and his heart lifted to see good men at such a bad time.
They swung and fought with fury and passion. The passageway they defended was a short run from the house, but the moment they stopped fighting, the Risen would be on them. Vitus readied his bow and waited for them to make their move.
“Go, I’ll be right behind you!” Shouted Tatius to his companion, without turning to look at him.
Gallus took another couple of swings, adding two more bodies to the pile that was beginning to block the entrance of the passageway. Then he turned and ran for the door that Vitus held open.
He ran with a noticeable limp, an injury caused by an arrow in the Alps, Vitus remembered. When Gallus was halfway to the house, Tatius gave the nearest dead creature an almighty shove, throwing him back against the Risen that followed him.
The action gave him a second to turn and run for the house, but it wasn’t enough. The dead were at his heels almost instantly. He swung his sword blindly behind him and caught the rotting face of a young woman, slicing it across the bridge of the nose.
Vitus nocked an arrow and let it fly at the closest pursuer. It drove hard into the skull of an elderly man as he reached for Tatius’ back.
Gallus reached the door and slipped past Vitus, who was reaching for another arrow.
Run, you can make it!” Vitus bellowed, as he readied another shot. The arrow went wild in his hurry to loose it, but it tangled the legs of one Risen, bringing down another two in a rush of bodies.
Tatius found another burst of speed, and was past Vitus in time for the door to be slammed behind him.
Vitus heard bodies hit the far side of the door, and after a few seconds heard hands scrabbling at the glass in the lower floor rooms.
He turned to see the downstairs hallway full of panting, sweating men. There were a couple of women with them as well, to his surprise.
“We need to make sure the house stays defended,” he called to the group. “Spread out into the rooms downstairs and make sure they don’t break in.”
The crush in the hallway began to thin, and Vitus turned to the two legionaries.
“Thank you, sir, I’ve never been so pleased to see anyone in my whole life,” Gallus said with a salute.
I’m just as happy to see you two, I assure you. How long were you out there? Whatever possessed you?”
Domitius spoke up behind them, “I’d like to hear this, can I ask you men to join me in my study?”
Vitus had a quick look round to make sure the windows and doors were still secure and turned towards the praetor’s room.
Domitius was passing drinks into the hands of the two legionaries and he took one himself, when it was offered. He then turned to Tatius.
“What is happening out there? Why were you on the street?”
“Sir, we reported to the barracks as Centurion Protus ordered. The prefect gave us orders that kept us busy for a couple of days. We were kept out of the way of the other legionaries.
“It was only after a while that we realised something strange was going on. After that, we attempted to leave and they tried to lock us up. We managed to force our way out of there.”
Domitius nodded. “What about the rest of these men?”
Tatius took a swallow of his drink and looked back up at the praetor.
“We came across a few of them trying to fight the Risen, sir. We couldn’t leave them to die, so we decided to lead them instead.
“It went well for a while and there are a few good men in the group. A butcher, I like him a lot. We ran into more than we could handle, and lost a few. We had to run and that’s when you opened the door, sir. I’m grateful, you saved our lives.”
Domitius seemed satisfied but he turned to Vitus.
“You can vouch for these men, centurion?”
Vitus nodded and smiled.
“Sir, we’ve travelled a long way together, and lost people along the way. These are good men, and I’m glad to have them here.”
“Good enough for me, you’re welcome here. Now, I believe we may have attracted some unwanted attention, are the barricades holding?”
Once again, Vitus was impressed by the matter of fact way that the praetor took everything in his stride. His home had been invaded by strangers and was being attacked by the dead and still there was no sign of panic.
“I’ll take a walk round the house, sir.”
Domit
ius smiled and nodded.
Vitus turned to the two legionaries.
“Tatius, Gallus. Make yourselves useful. Talk to the men you came in with. Make sure no-one is hiding any bites. We can’t afford for one of those things to get in here.
“After you’re sure there is no infection, just talk to them. Make sure they aren’t going to do anything stupid. They don’t look like soldiers and we don’t want panic to spread after they’ve had time to think about what they’ve just been through. Reassure them, make them laugh if you can.”
The two legionaries saluted, and Vitus silently blessed the gods for sending him a couple of good men.
Otho lay back on the long, low couch while a dark skinned female slave rubbed his naked shoulders with oil. He reached for a goblet of wine and drank deeply.
This was the life he had always been meant to live. He was a man who deserved to have other people pander to him.
For years he had taken orders, fought for men who were really beneath him. No more. Now was his time, and that was good.
He would make the people of Rome love him. He would give them everything they wanted, and they would worship him. These little men in the senate had no idea how great he was, but they would learn.
He brushed the slave girl away and sat up. The marble was cool on his feet, the spring days were beginning to carry heat and he welcomed the breezes that flowed through the windows.
Somewhere across the palace, he heard the sound of fighting. Presumably the palace guards were fighting off more of the creatures. That was fine, it would help keep them on their toes.
He turned to one of the legionaries that were spaced around the walls.
“Fetch me Ursus, I think it’s time.”
The legionary saluted and marched away, looking every inch the fighting machine Otho expected of his personal guard. This caused him to chuckle. As the new emperor, the entire Roman Army was his personal guard.
The legionary returned, marching at the shoulder of Ursus. Otho turned at the sound of their approaching feet.
“Ursus, my friend, it occurs to me that I have been very remiss.”
Legion of the Undead Page 26
