"Ken." Maggie must have come to the same conclusion – there was none of the hope he had heard in her voice before, none of the desire to run to her husband and hold him. Just despair, sharp and raw. "Ken."
Ken, the unKen, marched forward. His hands held at his sides shifted to sharpened blades of bone.
The zombies closed. Coming for them all. And this time there was truly no way to escape. No hole to hide in – Christopher somehow sensed that the zombies fighting below them had ceased their struggles. Unified with the ones aboveground, all in thrall of the boy-king.
No hole to hide in.
No building to climb.
Nowhere to run to.
The zombies closed. A mass that went on forever.
"Ken," Maggie sobbed again. Aaron cursed quietly. Amulek held his knife – the only weapon that remained to the group – and waited with a face so impassive Christopher knew it had to mask sudden, violent terror.
Theresa didn't move. Just held tightly to Lizzy, and by extension to Hope.
Hope and Lizzy no longer tore at one another. They simply watched the creatures as they closed in. A small, secret smile played across Hope's lips. Lizzy grinned outright.
(My king.)
(My lord.)
The zombies were within fifty feet. Ken was closest. His hands rose.
DIE. DIE AND BE REBORN AND LIVE FOREVER IN ME.
The scream-whisper nearly broke what remained of Christopher's resolve. Nearly sent him screaming to join the creatures.
But something else picked its way into his mind. Inserted itself into the holes between the words spoken by the king. It wasn't a sentence, wasn't even a single word.
Just a feeling.
Fate.
Ken was close enough for Christopher to see the nothing in his friend's eyes. He remembered Ken telling him that he had died. That what remained wasn't Ken at all.
Maybe he's right.
(no)
Ken pulled back his arm. Ready to strike Amulek, who was closest. Amulek's lips pulled back, exposing the teeth that marked a man determined to die a warrior's death.
It wouldn't matter. Ken would bring him down. Perhaps kill him, perhaps just wound him so the others could Change him.
DIE. DIE AND BE REBORN AND LIVE FOREVER IN ME.
(fate)
Christopher knew what to do. Not all of it, maybe not enough.
But something. For now, a single something. After… after would have to take care of itself.
And that would have to be enough.
(fate)
136
"Knife!" he shouted.
Amulek didn't hesitate. He moved so smoothly it seemed as though he had been waiting for this particular moment.
Maybe he had been.
Christopher felt it again: that something that had pressed itself upon him before. Smaller than the voice of the king, but somehow still powerful in its own right.
Amulek turned. Swung his arm in a short arc that had the knife flipping Christopher's way. Christopher snatched it out of the air. He caught it by the handle – an impossible thing to do, but he did it, it was –
(fate)
– as though he had been waiting, too. As though his body knew this was coming. And it wasn't just ready, it hungered for this moment.
He swept the blade, a quick turn that had him pointed at Maggie.
And then he was yanking at Hope, peeling her still-motionless body away from Lizzy, away from Maggie. He jammed the blade against her throat. Realized someone else was moving with him.
Theresa pulled Lizzy away from Maggie. Yanked her from fingers so stiff and white that Christopher expected to hear the young mother's fingers crack and break.
Theresa held the toddler in her hands. And there was no doubt what she intended.
Christopher looked at Ken. Stared the thing he had become in the eye.
"We'll kill them," he said. "Right now."
137
Maggie still didn't move, but a thin moan made its way through lips pressed tightly together.
Christopher ignored it. He kept his eyes on Ken.
DIE.
The voice of the king had changed. It was abbreviated. Angry.
(afraid?)
Ken took a step in Amulek's direction.
Christopher pressed the knife against Hope's throat, and now her throat matched Lizzy's: a thin line of blood sluiced around the blade, dripped to her dirty shirt.
"I'll do it. And so will she," Christopher said, motioning at Theresa. "You're not fast enough to stop it."
Ken waited. A long moment – a time that abided in Christopher's mind, that rested there for the eternity between instants – then his arm dropped. The blades didn't disappear from his hands and arms. He held himself ready.
But didn't move.
Nothing moved. That same silence that had accompanied the zombies' first appearance held sway again. The world waited.
Finally, there was motion. Not physical, but mental.
WHAT?
The word that came to Christopher's mind nearly sent him to his knees. It was part rage, part shock – the feeling of a creature that has never known defeat, never experienced the slightest disobedience. Christopher was struck by a sense of agelessness, the impression that everything that had led to this moment had happened in other, distant times and in other, even more distant, places.
Again and again, and never a change. Breed, consume, and leave to breed and feed again.
But this time – for the first time – there was a change. Something had dared to thwart its will.
WHAT?
This time the voice asked something different. Not "how dare you" or "how is this possible?" – it was something simpler, but colored with subtle tones of threat, of violence-to-come. This time it was, "What do you want?"
But below it… "I will destroy you."
And under that, even deeper, almost silent now in the full power of the king…
(hope)
That was it. It wasn't fate that he had felt for all this time. It was something stronger, greater. The thing that had kept Ken going on so long, that had kept the survivors together, that now moved him to take this action.
Hope.
WHAT?
More insistent this time. Ken took a small step, drawing a bit closer to Amulek, and the threat was clear: Speak, or die.
Christopher spoke without knowing what he was going to say. One word opened to his mind at a time, the whole sentence a mystery until it was already spoken in full. And when he had finished, he couldn't believe he had said it.
And yet, at the same time, he knew it was the only thing to say.
"Don't kill us, and I'll bring the queens to you."
138
The only sound in the still was Aaron. He cursed quietly. It sounded less like the voice of a man than that of a ghost, something that struggled to return to a life long lost.
"Let us come to you," Christopher said again. His hands – one holding tight to Hope, the other pressing the knife against her throat – trembled. Fear gripped him, terror for the future and for a plan he was following without understanding.
Ken slid forward a bit more.
"Stop. We'll come to you, but our way. Touch a single one of us, and I will kill Hope and Theresa will kill Lizzy. Your queens will die. I think that matters to you."
Silence. Aaron didn't curse again.
A wind swayed the trees. The rustle of leaves was all that stood between them and a long fall into void. The only reality left in the barest shade of the world as it once was.
Ken stepped back. As he did, the voice sounded in Christopher's mind.
COME.
Ken stepped back still more. Melted into the mass of creatures at his back and then was gone.
The zombies in front of Amulek – the ones in the direction he had been walking when this last threat materialized – drifted apart, creating a thin corridor between them.
Amulek glanced back at Christopher.
The teen's eyes were so wide they appeared nearly white, a look disconcertingly like that of the creatures all around.
Christopher nodded, wondering how he had come to be in charge of this moment, if not the group in general.
Aaron should be in charge. Maybe Theresa.
(hope)
This time the minute feeling wasn't a general impression. It was directed at him, the same way the king's voice had been only a moment before. Not a statement that such a thing as hope existed – it was a directive. Beyond mere encouragement, the voice instructed Christopher.
(hope. have hope.)
The king had brought with him an impression of great age, if not the agelessness of a creature born so long ago it could said to be eternal. This new voice was different. Young, barely understanding itself any more than Christopher did.
But powerful for all that.
Amulek was still looking at Christopher. "Go on," said Christopher. "Lead us out of here."
Amulek turned. Began walking. Christopher – still holding tightly to his knife and holding that knife close to Hope – followed. He heard the sigh of grass being ground underfoot and knew Theresa was at his back. Then she was at his side. Grim-faced, looking straight ahead, holding Lizzy in a strong arm, her other around the toddler's neck. It would take nothing at all to snap the child's spine.
And this is as it has to be. This is what has to happen.
Christopher didn't know if that thought came from him, or from the thing that was touching him, that other thing that whispered –
(hope)
– so softly in his mind. And wasn't sure it really mattered in that moment. Both kept him going. Both moved his feet forward and steadied his hands.
Christopher followed Amulek into the trees. Theresa walked with him. Aaron fell back for a moment, and Christopher knew the cowboy would be drawing Maggie along with them. Holding her, supporting her, urging her to keep on, keep going. The exact opposite of the call of the creatures. No call to give up, give in, he would be whispering encouragement. Support. Even though they were marching into something so far beyond the shadow of death it wasn't even in the same zip code.
Christopher walked forward, leading the group from his place in the middle.
The creatures still surrounded them, opening bare feet in front of Amulek, permitting him to move one step at a time toward a place Christopher could not see.
The woods closed overhead.
He kept walking. They all did.
139
They walked through the forest forever.
Christopher didn't know exactly what time it was when they entered, or how long their trek continued, but he knew it was a long time. The sun moved across the sky in a slow march that would lead to its eventual death behind the horizon.
It would be reborn, but would any of them be around to see that?
The survivors stopped occasionally, sitting down on a fallen trunk or on the soft blanket of rotting leaves beneath the trees. Each time they did, the zombies stopped as well. Silence, until the king called, as he did every time.
COME.
The voice was insistent. A call filled with a need so deep that Christopher's soul ached with it.
COME.
But the voice never called until they had rested just enough. They were shaky, dehydrated, exhausted. But they kept moving.
During one of their rest breaks, the shadows moved strangely. The sun was low, casting long, slanted rays through the trees that curved overhead. It was more dark than light down here, but the sun still had enough power to drive down and create shafts of weak light, mingled with shadows that grew stronger with every step.
When the shadows shifted across Christopher's lap, he looked up. He thought at first that what he glimpsed must be Ken, flitting somewhere above the trees, following them as they went. But then the shadows were too many, too fast.
Bugs.
He had almost forgotten how the insects had been affected in the time after the Change. Some went mad and attacked anything that wasn't a zombie. Some simply swirled in massive tornadoes, millions of creatures that swarmed in on themselves and then died as one and lay ankle-deep on the ground below. But he hadn't seen any of the swarms – or any insects at all, now he thought of it – in days.
Now he did. They darkened the skies. Not just a swarm, but a swarm of swarms. They drew into a cloud so massive that the sun disappeared completely behind them. Darkness fell through the power of an unnatural eclipse.
Then they died.
COME.
The king's thought impelled them as the insects fell from the sky, raining down on them with tic-tic-tics on leaf, wood, ground, and flesh. Christopher wanted to scream, wanted to shout in disgust. But it was just that: disgust. Loathing. There was no terror. In the middle of all that was happening, dead bugs hardly seemed fearful. Just revolting.
No one else screamed, either. They just slapped the tiny carcasses away, brushed them from their hair.
Christopher looked at Hope. She was staring into the sky, a huge grin on her frozen face. Bugs fell into her eyes and she did not blink; fell into her gaping mouth and she didn't react.
Christopher looked away. He couldn't watch that. Too much. Too grotesque – almost profane.
Another thought from childhood, another scripture memorized in a religious boarding school: Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?
Not anymore, he thought. No spirit of God, just something that's stolen the beautiful, made the world a hateful place.
COME.
They kept walking. They grew tired, but every time Christopher felt his steps turn to shambles, that voice came –
(hope)
– and he found just enough strength to keep on, keep on, keep on. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, and all the while moving blindly, unsure what would happen next.
COME.
(hope)
The trees opened up at last.
140
The forest thinned around him, created gaps wide enough for him to see more than a few feet ahead, and the first thing Christopher saw was the sheer mass of the creatures that had been hidden by rises in the land, by trees that clustered close.
There must have been a million of them. Maybe more – twice or even three times that many. Every once-human for hundreds of miles, brought here by the king to find his queens. Christopher couldn't see anything of the land, only the vast mob of zombies.
He wondered if the jammer he'd made had ever worked at all. Maybe the fighting of the zombies with each other had been the last moments of the queen's violent ascension before the king simply took matters into his own hands, found them, and now….
What? What will he do to us?
What would any angry king do?
His stomach curled inside his body, wrenched so tightly it hurt. Theresa took a shuddering breath – the first real sound she had made since they entered the forest. He looked at her and smiled with what he hoped was a semblance of security and conviction.
She smiled back. He had no hands free – he hadn't stopped holding either Hope or the knife in all their long walk – but he leaned toward her in what he hoped she would understand as the closest he could come to a hug right now.
He hoped he could hug her, at least once more before –
Don't finish that sentence, Christopher. Don't you dare.
"What now?" asked Maggie. Aaron was no longer supporting her, but she sagged where she stood. Physical, emotional, and psychic stresses – some of which Christopher knew he couldn't understand – had taken their toll. She had been a young woman when he first met her. And she still might be just that, physically, but her mind and soul had aged. She was no longer bright and beautiful as she had been only a few days before. The Change had made her a sad parody of the living dead: a husk, waiting only for death or worse to claim her.
No. Not true. If that were all, she would have laid down and died, would have just
given up the way the people who talked on their phones did.
We haven't given up. That's something.
But probably not enough.
Suck it, me.
You suck it.
Great, now I'm actively arguing with myself.
Amulek had stopped when he left the relative seclusion of the trees. Now, as though to answer Maggie's question of what to do next, he began walking again.
The zombies opened up before him. Revealed a line of asphalt that Christopher figured must be Highway 20-26.
When they had pulled a bit farther apart, Christopher saw that the creatures had hidden not just the road, but something on it.
A truck. Nothing like the Marauder, just a simple and slightly beat-up looking Toyota Tundra. The truck was a coppery red – a color that made it look disturbingly as though it had been washed in blood. But Amulek kept walking toward it without hesitation. He opened the cab, leaned in. Searched for, and apparently found, something.
The truck rumbled to life.
Christopher wondered if the things had brought them here, to this particular stretch of highway, because they knew the truck was here. Knew it had keys, knew it had gas, knew it could take the group to the king.
And he knew that was just what had happened. The creatures wanted them, the king called and would not be denied.
Something flitted overhead. Christopher looked up, and this time it was Ken. His wings vibrated so fast they were just a dark green blur against the pink and blue sky. He stared down at them, and Christopher knew that if the zombies were an extension of the king's body, then Ken had become its far-distant eyes.
COME.
The call, insistent and powerful, urged them all to motion. They walked toward the truck. Amulek was already around back, dropping the tailgate. Then he helped Christopher and Theresa in with their burdens. Aaron helped Maggie into the truck on the passenger side, moving slowly and carefully as he would if assisting an arthritic octogenarian. Then he climbed into the truck bed as well.
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