It seemed like every time Marik moved where he could see, the shrunken figure in front of him moved directly into his way. When the boy tried to ask questions, the shaman ignored him. He had been warned to stay out of the way, but was frustrated at not being able to see what was happening.
“How am I supposed to take over after you when you won’t show me or tell me anything,” Marik asked under his breath as he gave up and sat down irritably.
The shaman seemed to have finished his application and stood over the body, straddling the chest with his legs, facing the head. He continuously bent at the waist, and then straightened up again with arms over his head, as if he were fanning someone with a large leaf. He was chanting something Marik could not understand, slowly increasing in volume with each passing moment.
Marik started to feel something strange, but he could not easily describe the sensation. Pressure started building in his ears, but it was building from the inside, as if air were being forced out from the inside of his skull. The life force sustaining his body was being pulled from inside him and he started to feel faint.
The shaman had a different bowl now and brought a flame which had appeared from the tips of his fingers towards it. The dark liquid within caught fire with a dull blue flame and a stinging deep black smoke drifted in all directions.
Tanis put both hands on the chest of the dead man and pushed down hard. His chanting reached a crescendo as he pressed. Suddenly he stood straight up. The smoke meandering around the hut gathered into a steady swirling stream which was being sucked into the corpse. The air itself seemed to be losing substance and power.
When it seemed to Marik there was nothing left to breathe and the chest of the man chained to the floor was filled to bursting, an overwhelming exhalation of foulness escaped from the body. All at once the air inside the hut returned and Marik found himself once again able to breathe.
The man’s blindfolded head snapped upwards and he struggled mightily against the bonds holding him down. The struggling form was inhuman with uncontrollable convulsions. Muscles bulged with monstrous effort.
Its lips peeled back and bright teeth lunged towards the shaman. Tanis quickly jumped out of reach, just avoiding a bite. The teeth came together like a handclap, and then the jaws worked repeatedly, opening and closing violently as the head tried desperately to stretch closer to the old man on a straining neck. The body moaned loudly with unsatisfied longing.
Marik stood stunned.
“The food,” the shaman said loudly to be heard over the noise. “Bring it to me.”
Marik snapped awake. He pulled strips of meat from a squirrel caught earlier in the day out of a bag and brought it to the shaman. The old man produced the green bottle Marik had seen earlier from one of the pockets in his pouch. He opened the bottle and pulled out a long twig from within. He carefully placed a drop of the liquid onto a strip of the meat, and then lowered it towards the snapping jaws.
Once the teeth had a grip on the meat they ripped it from the old man’s hand and whipped it from side to side. It was pulled into the mouth and there ground relentlessly between the teeth until there was nothing left to chew.
It did not take long before the contents from the bottle took effect and the man on the floor stopped struggling. The creature continued panting and wheezing from the exertion for a time, but eventually that stopped as well and he lay there calmly.
~ Chapter XIV ~
Many days passed. Marik had started to refer to the mad man as ‘the monster.’ The shaman referred to is as ‘the undead’ or ‘Jombi,’ which was the traditional name. In reality, as long as the monster was drugged he was much like a pet. Each day Marik was responsible for feeding it twice a day. At each meal the monster was heavily sedated and could safely be controlled for a few hours.
The shaman had shown Marik how to take it out of the hut. A bamboo pole longer than Marik was tall with two loops on either end was used for safety. The pole was strong, yet surprisingly light. One loop would be wrapped securely around the monster’s neck, and the other around Marik’s wrist. Even if Marik had fallen while the monster was attempting to reach him, it could not have gotten close enough. Though the rest of the tribe gave them a wide berth, Marik was surprised how submissive it was when taken outside while heavily drugged.
He took the creature down to the river each day. It willingly went wherever directed, including into the water. This was a much better alternative than attempting to wash it off by hand.
The monster walked as if its joints were heavily wrapped in tight cloth. It had very poor balance and would not lift its legs when going over a root or branch. Sometimes, after falling to the ground, it would prefer to crawl rather than get back on its feet to walk. It seemed to be completely oblivious of the world. Marik did not know if this had to do with the strong sedative running through its body, or if it would be this awkward without the drug.
The shaman continued to instruct Marik. “In the next few days the flies will hatch from their cocoons. We will leave them in the hut with the Jombi.”
Marik was concerned. “The flies must escape back into the forest for my father’s spirit to be released,” he argued.
“No,” said the old man. “These first bonsai flies will have the spirit of the dead enemy’s father, not of the son who continues to bind your father here. The warrior’s spirit, that of our enemy, has already strengthened our tribe with its sacrifice. Only when the evil essence of the son is released will your father’s spirit be avenged. I had a dream last night. There is something I am not considering, but not everything is clear. We must protect ourselves. We must be careful.”
“It is not enough,” Marik replied.
“Not enough?”
“No, their tribe must also suffer. They were responsible to my father’s death. They raised this man to be a monster.”
“That is not possible. They have given us the one responsible for your father’s death. If we retaliate we will then be murderers, and we will have to pay the price with our own lives.”
“I will go myself. I will take their lives for the life of my father. If I am caught, I will be giving my own life, no one else’s.”
“You must not,” said the shaman. “You have a place here. You have a destiny. Do not let your thirst for revenge affect your judgment.”
The shaman stood up and the two walked toward the hut.
“Feed him one last time. We will not go back inside until after the full moon. By that time the larvae should be done with him and new pupae will have emerged.”
Marik and the shaman went into the hut. The undead had not been sedated since morning and was aggressive. The shaman added the sedative to the raw squirrel meat and soon after eating the hostility subsided. The body lay on the floor demurely, its jaws grinding, its chest slowly rising and falling, but otherwise deeply relaxed.
They verified the bindings were tight, and added additional constraints around the shoulders and thighs. Each double checked the interior walls to be sure there were no gaps between the leaves.
Lastly, the shaman placed the unopened wooden box on the chest of the Jombi where it rose and fell with each breath it took. The old man had already verified the flies had hatched and were active inside. When the creature struggled once the drug wore off it would cause the box to fall and the lid to open.
The two backed out of the hut. They fixed new large leaves over the door, and then inspected the outside for gaps as well. When all was complete the shaman built a fire once again outside the door.
The two spent their days and nights there next to the fire listening to the moans and growls emanating continuously from the hut. The old man instructed the younger on the secrets and rituals of his trade. Hours were spent discussing the various worlds and man’s place in those worlds according to the tribe’s history. The rest of the community left them alone. The life of a shaman in the tribe was a lonely one.
> Often Marik brought up his need for revenge and the two argued. In all other things the boy acquiesced to the knowledge of the man, but he did not agree with letting the enemy get away with the murder of his father. The rage he felt when he dreamed about it at night blinded all other thought. In his mind it was not a desire for retaliation, but a need for justice. Being told he was wrong only made him more confident in his hate-driven dreams where his father pleaded with him for release.
~ Chapter XV ~
Marik had made his decision the night before and had not been able to sleep. As dawn approached, he stared up at the many bottles, weapons and other strange things he could not identify while the shaman slept soundly on the other side of his hut. Outside, a light rain fell steadily which had driven them inside many hours ago.
The previous evening Marik had not had to wait long for the drug from the green bottle to take effect on his unsuspecting instructor, and the old man still slept soundly.
Earlier he had discovered and killed one of the common large spiders hiding under his sleeping mat. This was not unusual. The spiders were a regular source of food within the tribe and each night a couple of them could be found roasting in the various fires. They could also inflict tremendously painful and dangerous bites, so removing them from the community whenever they wandered in was imperative.
The boy got off of his cot and snuck quietly over to the table. After skewering the spider on a long stick, he snatched up the green bottle and applied a drop of its contents. He turned around to leave and jumped when he noticed the shaman’s eyes were open. Tanis was leaning over with obvious effort and was speaking softly. Marik could see his eyes were glazed through half closed lids.
“No… can’t get out... must stop.”
The shaman slumped back, once again asleep. Marik moved quickly out of the hut without paying heed to the warning. He had been listening to the old man for weeks and knew his thoughts on the matter.
“He would not have needed to be drugged if he just agreed with me,” Marik thought to himself.
The full moon was to occur in two days. Tanis had estimated the pupae would emerge around then and form their cocoons.
As he approached Marik could hear the moaning coming from inside the hut. He removed the heavy outer leaves from the door and opened it. The odor hit him like a club. It assailed him to the point where he could not move forward. He took a step back and heaved his last meal into the wet smoking fire pit.
After a few minutes of bearing the stench he felt he could make another attempt. He was eventually able to enter the hut. The low moans had become roars as the monster sensed his presence. Marik could not see, but he could hear the jaws snapping together and the bindings creak as the starving crazed beast attempted to reach him.
The boy stayed along the walls where he knew he could not be reached. He approached the far side of the hut where he knew the head was and slowly extended the impaled spider towards the audibly snapping jaws.
Suddenly the stick leapt out of his hands. The boy stared into the darkness wondering what had happened. He bent down feeling around the dirt floor, but the stick was not to be found. He crawled around the outer wall in a panic feeling everywhere but unable to locate the missing spider. The clacking of snapping teeth echoed in the small space.
After a few minutes it was obvious the monster had not taken the spider. There was no calming effect from the drug. It roared in frustration, working itself into a frenzy, as Marik crawled around it. The boy’s distress increased with each passing moment.
It was then that a bright light appeared in the doorway of the hut. Marik stared blindly at the flame of a torch, then shielded his eyes from the painful glow.
A familiar voice cried out, “What is happening here?”
The boy lay stunned momentarily, cowering on the ground from the fear he had been experiencing mixed with the embarrassment of being caught. He peaked through his hands and was horrified at the monster secured to the ground in front of him.
Its body was desiccated with open sores slowly leaking a mixture of blood and frothy white pus. Each joint and muscle clearly showed under a paper thin layer of skin, and though the muscle was sinewy, it appeared to have superhuman strength as the monster strained against the stretched bindings.
The eyes were sunken into deep black pits and the ear closest to him hung askew from a copious white piece of cartilage. The hair which had been thickly curled and black, had fallen out in splotches and was gray where it still limply remained.
Most disturbing, the passage of dozens of large larvae under pale gray skin made the entire body appear to bubble. Red lines of crusty dead skin oozed blood and crisscrossed the body where the larvae had already been.
With eyes now adjusted to the light he saw the stick lying halfway across the monster’s neck with the spider bearing end just out of Marik’s reach. He was able to easily retrieve it in the light. Feeling back in command of the situation, his determination returned.
It seemed at the same moment he gathered the stick, the man at the door reacted to the horrifying scene and dropped the burning torch. He then ran away yelling through the middle of the camp.
Marik knew he did not have much time.
~ Chapter XVI ~
With the image of the monster still burned in the back of his eyes and the dim light of the torch lying on the ground coming through the door, he quickly turned the stick around. With a firm grip this time he maneuvered the spider towards the jaws and was able to hold on when he felt the tug. The teeth clamped down hard on the spider, and then shattered the stick as well. He heard snapping from either the wood or the spider’s legs as the jaws worked.
Within a minute the beast began to calm down. Marik grabbed the long pole used to control it and slipped one loop around the neck of the quickly calming creature. He carefully started cutting the bindings holding it down with the shaman’s metal knife he had borrowed. By the time he was done removing the bindings, the Jombi was staring up at him with dull eyes. Looping the other end of the long pole around his own wrist, he compelled the desiccated figure to stand up. It struggled to stand, but shortly came unsteadily upright.
From a safe distance, Marik forced the creature out the door from behind. Outside, dawn had started to shed its pale light and he found he could see a short distance ahead. He led the disturbing creature out of the camp.
Behind him shouts of alarm could be heard from the distant huts. Marik could not tell what was happening. Had they found the shaman and tried to wake him? If so, they may already be looking for him. He needed to hurry.
Just before reaching the stream the creature stumbled over a protruding root and splashed headfirst into the water. Unnoticed by the boy in the early light and confused panic, two larvae fell from the body into the mud and quickly crawled under nearby rocks.
Using the long pole, Marik quickly coerced it back into a standing position and headed down the stream away from camp as quickly as he could force the sedated creature to move. The two trudged through the stream for many hours heading generally in the direction of the battleground where Marik’s father had been killed.
Learning to track was a skill all boys were educated in. Marik was particularly good at it, and he knew how to keep from leaving any sign for others to follow. He turned into a smaller stream feeding into the one they were walking, and followed it for a while before forcing the creature up a rocky bank to shore.
Here the forest canopy was thick and light filtered in only sporadically. The foliage on the ground however was sparse and the two were able to increase their pace. After hours of anxiety Marik was finally convinced he had gotten away and slowed their hurried pace.
He estimated they were still a day or two away from the battlefield at their current pace. Many weeks ago the warriors had run half the day to reach their camp before the battle, and today the two unlikely travelers were forced to travel at a brisk walk by the awkward str
ide of the creature.
Just before crossing over a slow running creek, he secured the monster to a sturdy limb and walked to the water. Now that he was again calm, Marik realized he had forgotten to bring anything to eat or drink in his haste, but as he stooped down to scoop up a handful of water he knew this was not going to be an issue for him. He could easily live off the land around him.
Without leaving sight of his prisoner, Marik scouted around and his sharp eyes found some small berries he knew to be delicious. He was able to eat a small meal before returning to his task.
It was only when he was approaching the creature to resume their journey that he realized he had made a much bigger mistake than forgetting to bring his own meal. The monster’s eyes were no longer quite as dull. His stance was no longer quite as submissive.
And Marik did not have the green bottle.
~ Chapter XVII ~
The boy was unsure what to do. The creature staring back at him did not attempt to attack him, but something had changed. There was a spark of life in it that had not been there before. Maybe it was simply that the eyes now followed him where before they stared blankly into oblivion.
He walked over and secured the long pole again to his own wrist. On the other end the creature turned, swiveling its own neck in the loop, to watch him.
Marik nudged it ahead and the monster stumbled a few steps in the right direction before stopping again. Another harder nudge resulted in the creature falling to its knees, but not obeying. Marik tried another solution. He moved around the creature and started to pull it towards him in the direction he wanted to go. Though this was slower since Marik was forced to walk backwards, it worked better as the creature willingly followed him.
The boy’s mind raced. A few minutes ago his biggest concern was being discovered by his tribe who was surely looking for him by now. Being caught by them would have resulted in a lecture, a beating and a few bruises. Now a new threat would soon be after him, but the punishment would be an agonizing death if he was caught.
Undead Genesis: Zombie Page 4
