World of Corpses

by Scott W Cook

  That got a laugh.

  “So forget reconning Harborage and snatching the deck boats?” Carl asked.

  I sighed, “If we were staying around for a while, I’d be all for it. But my plan is to hit MacDill and sail out of this bay tonight if not before sundown, touch wood.”

  I reached out and tapped on one of the skid plates that were affixed to the cockpit’s outer walls.

  “Superstitious?” Brenda asked with a chuckle.

  “Christ,” I said with a grin, “never used to be… but I am a sailor… and in this world where dead people come to life and eat you… doesn’t seem so crazy now.”

  Everyone laughed but I saw a little shiver go through the group. I felt it too, frankly.

  “So what are the teams?” Tara asked.

  “Here we go…” Andy muttered with a small smile on his face.

  “Well,” I said, a little guiltily, “We need at least two folks who can handle a boat, a sailboat for that matter. And another two as backup for each.”

  “Leaving three to go to the base,” Carl said.

  “Yupper,” I said with a big grin, “Any volunteers?”

  “Well…” Brenda said, “I’ve never sailed in my life. I can drive a boat okay, but I don’t know about one of these big ones, especially with the chart plotter and all that.”

  “Me either,” Carl said, “I’m willing to learn… but…”

  “I hear you,” I said, “Tony, Andy, Andrea and I are sailors. I know Andy can handle this boat all by himself if he has to…”

  “So it’s Wonder Boy and his trusty sidekick to hold down the fort again,” Andy half grumbled but with a little amused twinkle in his eye.

  “His trusty sidekick who?” Tara asked with a wink.

  “His trusty sidekick Jugs McFadden, naturally,” Andy said deadpan.

  “Fucking what!” Andrea said, doubling over with laughter.

  Tara only shook her head and giggled.

  “Children,” I said firmly and with a shake of my head, “Let us all try to be mature adults, if we could.”

  “Says the guy who always tells me to clap onto his hawser and heave away,” Andrea said through her tears.

  “That’s simply me trying to familiarize you with proper sailing terminology,” I said, crossing my arms.

  “Then why do you drop trou right before and point to your crotch while whistling ‘Anchor’s Away?’” Andrea asked, “And then shouting, ‘Heave! Put your back into it, lass!’”

  Tony only shook his head and covered his face with his hands. Everyone else broke up. I scowled at them and said, “You can use facts to prove anything. However, this extremely immature display notwithstanding – I think we should draw straws unless somebody wants to volunteer.”

  Andy blew out his breath, “Tara and I will stay here with Brenda and Tony. You, mom and Carl go have a good time.”

  Andrea looked at Andy and then at Tony. Tony nodded and she smiled at me, “Damn, Sharky… guess we’ve done a good job together with him.”

  “Yes,” I said, “he’s coming along very nicely.”

  “You guys see me sitting here, right?” Andy asked.

  “Great shooter, good boat driver,” Tony added, “Seems a lot more mature now than when we first met you guys.”

  “Oh, I’ve been impressed since we first met,” Carl put in.

  “Still sitting right in front of you,” Andy said.

  “Smart and pretty damned cute,” Brenda said with a grin.

  “Cute sure,” Tara added, “yet manly. Handsome and sexy I think is a good descriptor.”

  “You guys suck,” Andy said with tolerant irritation.

  That got a laugh. This was good. We needed a little levity before the hard work.

  “Okay then,” I said, “Tony and Brenda aboard Sexual Heeling—“

  “Woo, woo, woo…” Andrea said.

  Carl frowned for a minute and then grinned good-naturedly. I still couldn’t decide if he and Brenda were together or not.

  “Andy and Tara aboard Sorcerer,” I finished, “You guys drive us to shore in the dinks and then bring them back. We’ll contact you via radio when we’re headed back for a pickup.”

  “What if we have to bug out?” Andy asked.

  There’s plenty of boats on this side of the bay, too,” Tony said, “they’ll be able to follow us. Shouldn’t come to that, though.”

  Tony reached out and touched the skid plate on his side of the boat too.

  “Let’s hope not. Your first priority are these boats, though, not us,” I continued, “As for gear… light loadouts. One long gun, one hand gun, three mags for the long gun, two for the handguns, enough ammo to refill the mags once, two days’ worth of MRE’s, standard bug out gear and at least half a dozen bottles of water.”

  “Hefty packs,” Carl said, “About what, forty pounds?”

  “Give or take,” I said, “We’ll have shelters and sleeping bags, too. I’ve got four of these kits, minus the ammo, made up below, so we’ll each grab one. It’d be nice to have tactical chest rigs, but I don’t have any. Hopefully we won’t need all that shit, but—“

  “You plan your dive and dive your plan,” Tony, Andrea and Andy said in perfect unison.

  “Fuck you guys,” I said with a grin.

  When the high spirits had softened somewhat, Brenda raised a hand, “Hey, doesn’t MacDill have a marina? I mean… can’t we just drive the boats right up to a dock and go straight to the gun warehouse or whatever?”

  “Not anymore,” Andrea said, “It’s a long story, but as an attempt to secure the base when all this shit went down, the marina was destroyed and the entrance blocked by a series of intentionally sunken boats. It probably wouldn’t be any easier.”

  “Now here’s what I hope will happen,” I said, “The three of us go ashore and take the bikes we left yesterday and make it to MacDill in a short while, avoiding zombies, marauders, aliens, vampires, genetically engineered dinosaurs, werewolves, Jehovah’s witnesses and the errant Godzilla.”

  Another chuckle.

  “We find the armory,” I went on with a grin, “Fully intact, loaded for bear. We load up a couple of duce and a halfs and drive all the shit back here and dangerously overload our vessels with guns, ammo and food.”

  “Or?” Carl asked.

  “Or it’s a lot harder than that,” I said, “But either way, that’s our side of it. I also hope that you guys have a nice boring day sitting out here with your thumbs parked.”

  “Or?” Brenda asked.

  I sighed and flipped them off, “Or… Mark and his merry men still have a hard on for us and come out here in a couple of speedboats. In which case—“

  “In which case we’ll blow those fuckers out of the water!” Tara said vehemently.

  “I appreciate your zeal, Tara,” I said seriously, “And it’ll probably come to that. However, if you do see anything more than a single boat headed your way, my orders are to weigh anchor and head for the Skyway as fast as you can. Sail if there’s a good wind and motor if there isn’t. Hell, do both. I’d rather have you fighting a battle while underway at six or eight knots than sitting still.”

  “But—“Tara began to protest.

  “Those are orders,” I said firmly.

  Tony and Andy nodded.

  “Fabulous,” I said, “It’s oh-eight fifteen now. I want to shove off at one bell.”

  “One bell?” Brenda asked.

  “Eight thirty,” I said, “One bell in the fore noon watch. Don’t worry, we’ll make a seaman of you yet.”

  “Gross,” Brenda said with a giggle.

  As it turned out, it might have been better if we’d just headed south right then and there.

  Chapter 17

  Rome – March 15, 44 BCE

  Gaius Julius Caesar awoke before dawn, the vivid images of the dream still floating in his consciousness.

  “What is it?” Calpurnia reached over and put a hand on his shoulder.

  Caesar s
hivered, “A dream… I was flying through the clouds and clasped the hand of Jupiter…”

  He felt Calpurnia shudder beside him and begin to weep. He held her close, “Why are you crying?”

  “I dreamed too,” She replied, “In my dream I was holding your body, and it was riddled with stab wounds.”

  Caesar sighed, “It’s that damned Sapurrina,” Caesar muttered, “That prophecy about the Ides of March.”

  Calpurnia was silent for a moment. She and Caesar had experienced many trials in their marriage, yet she loved him. She knew full well of Cleopatra and their son, yet Calpurnia loved Caesar anyway. It was the way of things in their time, and she had heart enough to share such a man, a man of destiny.

  “It’s not just that,” She continued, “It’s the other omens. The bird that flew into Pompeii’s theater and was torn to pieces… your dedicated horses that would not drink and only wept…”

  “Calpurnia,” Caesar stopped her gently, “Everything is an omen to us… we simply have to do the best we can. For my part, I know that I’ve acted or not in the past because of good and bad auspices… yet at the end of the day, I still believe that our destiny is in our own hands.”

  “So you aren’t afraid?”

  Caesar smiled and kissed her forehead, “No. There is a conspiracy. Brutus, Cassius and others are indeed planning on killing me. Will it be today? Who can say. Frankly, the only reason I wouldn’t go was this damned illness.”

  “Are you feeling ill today?”

  Caesar kissed her and nodded. Strange, though…

  Since he and Cleopatra had entered Sneferu’s inner sanctum and battled the undead, he’d noticed that his ability to heal from minor injuries had indeed remarkably improved. Yet, somehow, the falling sickness hadn’t gone away, and in fact had gotten worse.

  The attacks were more frequent, especially with the stresses of being dictator and reorganizing the senate and all of the other thousand details of running an empire. He was even having trouble controlling his bowels from time to time.

  He thought back to when Cleopatra had found him out. When she asked him why he tried to hide it, he’d told her that one day he’d have an attack in public and his enemies would cut him to pieces.

  Perhaps that day was today.

  “Then don’t go,” Calpurnia said simply.

  “I must,” Caesar said, “I’ve put a lot of things into motion and today is important.”

  “Do you think the senate and the people will accept a single leader?” Calpurnia asked.

  “Not yet,” Caesar admitted, “Not even me, not even a man many already worship as a God… Yet if things work out properly, then a new system of government will rise soon.”

  “What do you mean?” She asked.

  “A system with a man at its head but with power spread among the senate and where provincial people have a say in how things are run,” Caesar explained, “A more equal and fair democracy. Something more akin to Plato’s vision.”

  There was silence for a time and his wife finally said, “Gaius… do you have to sacrifice yourself for this vision?”

  “Probably,” Caesar admitted, “One way or another. Well, there’s nothing for it. When a job must be done, it’s best that it’s done quickly.”

  “You aren’t going alone, Gaius,” Calpurnia stated.

  “No,” Caesar replied, “Antony will be there, as will others.”

  “And her?”

  There was definitely a hint of anger in Calpurnia’s voice. She may have to share her husband with the Egyptian queen, but she didn’t have to like it.

  “No,” Caesar said, “This is a simple meeting asked for by Brutus and Cassius.”

  “Filth!” Calpurnia snapped with such vehemence that Caesar was taken aback.

  He chuckled, “But my dear… Brutus is virtually family.”

  She scoffed, “He isn’t fit to wash your feet.”

  “What’s to be done must be done,” Caesar said matter-of-factly, “For the time being. I’ll see you later, my dear.”

  Cleopatra met him and Antony at her house. She too was apprehensive.

  “You’re going to Pompeii’s theater?” She asked by way of greeting.

  “I am,” Caesar replied.

  Cleopatra looked hard at Marc Antony, “And you, Master of the Horse? You’re allowing this?”

  Antony smiled thinly, “As if I have a choice? Caesar does as Caesar wishes.”

  Cleopatra frowned and looked up at Caesar, “You must know best, you always do. But be careful, Gaius. But for you the world is full of small men.”

  “We’ll talk later,” Caesar said, kissing her.

  He and Antony and a few handpicked guards made their way through Rome’s streets. As they neared the temple, Aulis Hershus approached them. Hershus was a longtime friend and had served with Caesar in the Gaelic wars.

  “Caesar! I have a message that you must read!”

  “You look disturbed, Aulis,” Caesar said with a grin as he took the note.

  “I am indeed,” Aulis said, “Brutus and Cassius… they…”

  “I know,” Caesar said, “But they’re cowards, there’s nothing to worry about. We can’t appear weak now. I want you to go with Antony to Agrippa’s house. Bring him and Rufio back with you and meet me after this session.”

  The look of horror on their faces made him smile.

  “You’re going alone!” Antony said in disbelief.

  “I have to, Marcus,” Caesar said, gripping his shoulder, “I need you to be ready for whatever happens afterward.”

  “But…” Aulis protested weakly, “The Oracle… it’s the Ides of March, today.”

  “So it is,” Caesar said, “Now go, and let’s get this foolishness over with so we can continue our work.”

  With that, he strode across the street and into the senatorial meeting house named in Pompeii’s honor. A man who had once been his friend, then his son in law… and then his sworn enemy on the field of battle.

  Gnais Pompeius Magnus – Pompeii the Great. Who had fled to Egypt after his final defeat at Farsallia… and had been murdered by those he thought were his allies near Alexandria.

  And here was Caesar, going into this place under the same threat. Was this ironic or prophetic? Either way, Caesar had a job to do.

  Many of the senators were there, having taken their seats. Caesar made his way to his own seat and sat gratefully. He already felt ill at ease. Not for his safety, but for his epilepsy. He felt the stirrings of an attack coming… although he suspected it wouldn’t matter much longer.

  He knew full well what was to happen. He knew that Brutus and Cassius and their friends would make a try for his life this morning. Either he’d be able to fend them off himself and thereby prove to everyone that there was a patrician conspiracy afoot, or they’d succeed and he’d know once and for all if Sneferu’s words held any truth.

  Either way, his suffering would end.

  Lucius Simber was the first to approach him.

  “Caesar,” he said, “I’ve come to ask you to pardon my brother and bring him back from exile. He should never have been exiled in the first place.”

  A group of senators crowded around them and made exclamations of support for Simber. Caesar sighed and waved him away, “He was found guilty in a court of law of conspiring to murder—“

  Simber grabbed Caesar’s tunic and yanked on it, “I’ll show you murder, tyrant!”

  “Why, this is violence!” Caesar exclaimed with a smile on his face, a mocking smile.

  Simber was taken aback. Why wasn’t Caesar afraid?

  Others gathered round and as Caesar shoved Simber back, Servilius Casca made a clumsy thrust at Caesar’s neck with his dagger.

  Caesar rose to his feet, twisted around and grabbed Casca’s arm and twisted the wrist so that the dagger spun off and clattered to the floor. Casca’s eyes widened at Caesar’s strength.

  “Casca,” Caesar said sadly, “You villain. What’s the meaning of this?”<
br />
  “Help me, brother!” Casca groaned, his wrist still clenched in an iron grip.

  They descended on him then. Caesar felt a dagger slice across his neck, although he could tell that it wasn’t fatal. Another went into his chest near his heart. He leapt sideways, but there were just too many of them.

  Although twenty-three dagger thrusts would go home, none were really fatal, with the exception of the second one. Caesar made them pay for everyone, however.

  He didn’t moan, cry out or make a single sound. He simply threw jabs and kicks and punches into any body that was close enough to him. Including Brutus.

  Caesar could feel his strength ebbing, literally, as his blood flowed out. Half blinded by his own blood, he stumbled and sank to one knee and looked into the eyes of the man who had been his protégé, “and you, my child?”

  Brutus closed his eyes tightly for a moment but said nothing.

  Caesar collapsed, his cloak thrown up over his head. He lay there in a pool of his own blood as blackness claimed him.

  When consciousness came again, Caesar was understandably surprised. He was even more surprised to find that he felt well. There were no aches, pains or the sharpness of any stab wounds.

  “Don’t sit up, Caesar,” A strong male voice said.

  Caesar frowned and slowly opened his eyes. He was lying on a couch in what looked to be a well-appointed apartment decorated in the Roman style.

  “Where… what…”

  “You’ve been mostly dead all day,” The voice said again.

  Caesar looked over to see Sneferu’s smiling face gazing at him. His eyes went wide, “You! Have I… have I died?”

  “No,” The ancient Egyptian said, patting his shoulder, “You received wounds that would’ve killed you, although ironically more from blood loss than the actual damage to your body. Yet… as I thought I explained nearly three years ago, you’re immortal and cannot be killed.”

  “Then why do I still suffer from the epilepsy?” Caesar asked angrily. He wanted to sit up but found that, while he felt no pain, his body did seem weak.

  “As I also explained,” Sneferu continued, “Until you received a mortal blow – such as the one you received this morning – the full effect would not take place. You’ll find that from now on, the falling sickness is no longer a concern for you.”