Legend of Mace

by Daniel J. Williams

  Legend of Mace

  By

  Daniel J Williams

  J ELLINGTON ASHTON PRESS

  Copyright 2011 Daniel J Williams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidences are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY TWO

  CHAPTER SIXTY THREE

  CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR

  CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE

  CHAPTER SIXTY SIX

  CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER SIXTY NINE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO

  CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX

  CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY

  CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO

  CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY FOUR

  CHAPTER EIGHTY FIVE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY SIX

  CHAPTER EIGHTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE

  CHAPTER NINETY

  CHAPTER NINETY ONE

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  He was a man of many burdens, haunted by the voices of those who had fallen. In the middle of a dead city, no one witnessed his latest actions. Few survived to witness anything anyway, living or dead. Walking to the edge of a small pond, Mace stared silently at his reflection. The man that gazed back seemed foreign to him: Foreboding, dark.

  Gone was the fit, clean look of a few years back. Bending down to rinse the blood off his arms, Mace gazed intently at the figure staring back. Scooping water up with one hand, he let it trickle down his forearm. The blood washed back into the pond and left a slowly spreading blush that made his appearance shimmer and appear more menacing.

  In the back of his head, Father McCann’s voice echoed. “To embrace the darkness only leads to destruction.” He’d tried to resist it. He’d tried hard. The darkness lived inside him, though, breathed inside him, and there was never any rest for the wicked.

  Moving silently to the corpses, Mace bent down to gather their weapons. All three men carried some type of firearm. As he checked them, none were fully loaded, one completely empty. They’d drawn first, though, and left him no choice.

  Barely acknowledging the bodies before him, he ticked off a number in his head: 87. Those three brought his kill count up to eighty-seven men or women, taken down by his hand, since leaving Kansas.

  A part of him didn’t want to kill. He gave them fair warning. Maybe the look in his eyes spooked them. Maybe his apocalyptic appearance made them edgy. Maybe he goaded them into it. In the end it really didn’t matter. They fired first. One shot. It was the last they would ever take.

  After picking through their meager possessions, Mace stuffed their valuables in the saddlebag of his large black Harley Cruiser. Going back to the pond, he slapped cold water on the back of his neck, then on the sides of his head. Two years back he’d shaved his skull into a Mohawk. Not only did it give him a fiercer look, but it kept his head cooler through the hot Texas summer. Maybe it didn’t. He didn’t know. Or really care.

  He briefly smirked as he recalled the looks on the kids’ faces when they’d witnessed his new ‘do. A week later over half the boys shaved their own heads. Two weeks later they all did. They started calling themselves the Alamo Ninja Mohawk Warriors, defenders of Apocalyptic Neverland.

  He fired up the Cruiser, letting it purr quietly as he scanned the horizon. Fixed with a custom muffler, the noise was soothing to the nerves. Streets that defined death were all that surrounded him.

  On an early morning patrol, he’d spotted the men from a distance. They’d pulled their weapons as soon as he approached. He tried to reason, but they wouldn’t stand down. The one dumbass took a shot and it was over.

  After Kansas, he spent every waking hour building, planning, scavenging or killing to make sure their compound would never fall. It was the only thing that kept the darkness in check. He’d gained forty pounds of muscle in the last three years from heavy lifting, yet still couldn’t quench the bloodlust.

  Camp life revolved around survival. Serving as camp instructor, Jade taught the kids to fight. She used her own technique for self-defense: a blend of boxing, kenpo and jujitsu. It became a regular part of their training routine. Archery and machetes replaced weaponry because of ammo reserves. Spears and javelins proved as useful as slingshots to the properly-trained warrior. Mace embraced it all.

  So far he’d outfought, outshot, and outmaneuvered any poor son-of-a-bitch he'd come across. Sooner or later he figured his luck would run out and he’d be forced to meet his maker. It was the one thing he feared.

  He looked towards the sky and felt nothing. “I know what I am,” he said without emotion. Bo’s voice whispered inside his head. He heard it often. “You brought that shit into my camp!” It was all his fault.

  Mace stroked his fingers through his thick black goatee, then took one last glance at the dead men. He’d posted their heads on stakes as a warning to others. He put the bike in gear and rolled the throttle. The bike gunned up the embankment and briefly took air before it hit pavement and rolled fast towards their latest compound.

  “Shawn, c’mon, take just one bite.”

  Mace walked through the door of their abode as J
ade struggled to feed the boys dinner. They’d converted one of the officer’s quarters at the Alamo into their home. As soon as he walked in on his family, Mace felt the darkness ebb, and he longed to experience the love that used to be so easily shared with them. All he could do now was pretend. He felt nothing.

  “Everybody being good in here?” he asked, doing his best to appear jovial.

  Jason was out of his chair immediately. Running to give him a strong bear-hug around his leg, Jason looked up in adoration. “I’m being good. Shawn’s being a pirate!” He turned towards his brother and pointed. “Watch.” Shawn squirmed in his baby seat and threw a handful of food in their direction. It barely made it past the kitchen table.

  “See?” Jason said, sticking his tongue out at the baby. Jade wiped Shawn’s hand and said tiredly, “Little man, you need to settle down and eat.”

  Mace tousled Jason’s Mohawk then lifted him up, throwing him on his shoulder. “Shawn is part pirate, Jason. That’s the problem.”

  Mace winked at Jade and she looked away. Her greatest fear was that Shawn would have some sort of health or emotional problems. Being born after Mace was poisoned by the toxin, they had no idea how it might affect Shawn’s well being. Now that the infected were dying off, they also weren’t sure if it meant a premature death for Shawn and Mace.

  Eyeing the body-armor vest, Jade bit her lip. She could see the mark the bullet left. “You run into trouble?”

  He caught her focus on the vest and tried to change the subject. “Nothing too serious. It looks like you had more trouble here.”

  “You were shot, Mace,” Jade said as she rose to look at the mark more clearly. “How could that not be serious?”

  “I want to see it!” Jason yelled from atop Mace’s shoulder. He tried to scramble down Mace’s body and pressed a foot against the injury. Mace winced and grabbed him around the armpits, placing him squarely on the floor. He tried to hide his anger over the move.

  “It’s nothing,” he said tightly to his family. He took a slow, deep breath, trying to keep himself levelheaded.

  “Where, Daddy?” Jason yelled excitedly, looking at Mace’s body for some sort of bullet hole. “Where was you shot?”

  Mace tried his best to appear calm as he took Jason’s finger and placed it on the bullet-mark. “Right there.”

  Jason pushed on it and the pain felt sharp, yet warm and comforting. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?” Jason asked much softer, staring at the mark.

  “Only a little.”

  “Did you kill the bad guy?” he asked, looking up.

  “Unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice.”

  A wail suddenly filled the room as Shawn got tired of being ignored. Jade moved back towards the baby-chair where Shawn waited with another handful of ammunition. “Bwaaah!” he yelled as he threw food in his mother’s direction. A piece of corn caught her cheek and she drew a frazzled breath as she wiped it off and plucked him out of the high-chair. “Time to get you cleaned up,” she said as he wailed harder. She was three months pregnant with their third child and in need of a vacation.

  “I’ll see if Yvette can give you a break,” Mace said as he moved towards the front door. He could only take so much of family life. He wanted to help, but Jade understood his limitations. He’d talk to Yvette then hit the training center.

  Walking through the Calvary Courtyard, Mace watched as a dozen kids stopped training to stare. He’d reached a mythical status in many of their eyes. The kid that Woody sparred with stopped to gawk and Woody clobbered him with an elbow to the jaw. The kid dropped.

  “Didn’t look fair to me,” Mace said as he passed. The kid on the ground rubbed his chin while keeping his eyes trained on Mace.

  “You never drop your guard,” Woody answered with a mischievous grin. “They’ve got to learn that.”

  “Just what have I created?” Mace chuckled. Even though it had been over three years, Woody still recalled Jacqueline asking the exact same question. He’d been Peter Pan then. Peter Pan no longer existed. At only eleven, he looked years older. His face grew solemn as he reflected on his past. “A leader,” Woody answered seriously. “One who won’t allow his soldiers to die needlessly.”

  Mace nodded in agreement, then continued to his private workout area. He trained alone.

  Two hours later he sat down to lunch with Lisa at a picnic table on their grounds. It was their daily ritual. Some days they said nothing at all. It didn’t matter. They suffered the same affliction. After they were bit in Kansas, they witnessed the changes in each other. It gave them a connection, a bond. One that couldn’t be broken.

  “There’s a small group headed this way,” Lisa said nonchalantly as she fiddled with something in her hands. Mace immediately perked up.

  “How many?”

  “I saw at least six.”

  “How far out?”

  “Maybe ten miles by now. I spotted them about an hour ago.”

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  “Right now,” she laughed. “They’re on horseback. They spotted my dune-buggy so I’m sure they’re approaching with caution.”

  Both Mace and Lisa preferred to patrol alone. It made it easier to dispose of threats without explanation and satisfy their appetite for violence. Plus, it kept the camp free of their stain. Despite the risks, no one could persuade them to do otherwise.

  “Weapons?”

  “Saw at least one shotgun,” Lisa replied.

  “We could use the ammo.”

  “And the horses,” she added before she pulled out a glass pipe and fired it up.

  “You sure you want to do that now?” Mace asked.

  “It helps kill the edge,” she said as she tried to hold her breath.

  “I know. That’s why I’m saying…”

  While Mace dealt with his condition by exhausting himself physically, Lisa discovered her inner rage was calmed by marijuana. They kept several plants growing in the garden. She started coughing loudly then said, “It helps me focus,” between coughs.

  Mace couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, more like it makes you stupid.”

  “At least I have an excuse.”

  Mace rolled his eyes. “You ready, or do you want to roll a few more for the road.”

  Lisa tapped out the pipe and smiled. “I’m ready. This keeps me from shooting first and asking questions later.”

  “That’s not always the best strategy.”

  “You’re here. I have nothing to worry about.”

  “Glad YOU don’t. I’ve got Courtney Love watching my back.”

  Lisa stood and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll kill the bad guys if you want. I don't think we need it, but do you want any backup?”

  Mace shook his head. “Nothing we can’t handle. You know how the kids get, anyway.”

  “Yeah. Bunch of little savages…”

  “Exactly. They’ll want bragging rights. I love being the one with the bounty just to see the looks on their faces.”

  Woody heard the dune-buggy and Harley as Mace and Lisa raced out of the compound. He jumped on the Walkie-Talkie. “Follow them, Crockett, and take Bowie and the Rangers with you.” Most of the kids had changed their names, yet again, choosing to be named after defenders of the Alamo.

  Mace rode to the right and rear of the dune-buggy as the party on horses slowly appeared in the distance. Lisa slowed the buggy, finally stopping it a hundred yards back. Mace pulled up next to her. They waited silently. Mace casually set the kick-stand and climbed off the bike. His hands clenched as the party drew closer and he prepared himself for bloodshed. Lisa stood next to him, aiming a rifle in their direction. The horses stopped fifty-feet back and two of the riders dismounted.

  “We’re not looking for any trouble,” a man shouted at them. Around 40, he held a rifle loosely in his left hand. His shaggy head of graying hair stirred lightly in the Texas breeze. “We just came from Oklahoma City. It got wiped out by a gang of Plaguers.” A gir
l stood next to him, looking to be around eighteen.

  Mace and Lisa exchanged a glance. “Gang of Plaguers?” Mace shouted back. “You mean the infected? The damn zombies?”

  “No, they’re dying off. The Plaguers are the ones getting sick.”

  Not following the conversation, Mace felt his trigger-finger get itchy. He thought about putting the guy down. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  The man stayed silent for a few long seconds. “How many of you are there?”

  “Enough to finish you off quickly if need be,” Mace shouted back as he pulled out his weapon and pointed it at the man’s head.

  “I’m asking to see if anyone is sick,” the man said as he backed up a few feet. He lifted his hands overhead.

  “And why would you care?”

  “The plague starts off like the flu. It’s spread by the carcasses. If anyone is sick you need to isolate them immediately.”

  Thinking the guy was full of shit, Mace yelled out, “There is no one sick here. And why should we trust or believe you?”

  “You don’t have to, but we’re carrying the antidote. This plague moves fast. We could help you.”

  “How could there be an antidote?” Mace shouted back.

  “It wasn’t made for this outbreak. It was made for the original plague. It was developed in San Francisco. It works, though.”

  Mace felt his head spin for a second. He went to his saddlebag and lifted out a pair of binoculars. Adjusting them to zero in on the strangers, he took a long prolonged look before turning to Lisa. “Check them out. See if you recognize anyone.”

  Lisa put the field glasses to her eyes. After a few seconds she said, “Damn, I think I do.”

  “Me too. Which one?”

  “The girl. She’s older now, but she was a smart ass. Hard to forget.”

  “Yep.”

  Dirt-bikes sounded in the background. Mace knew the boys would be appearing any minute. Walking slowly towards the party, Mace shouted again. He kept his pistol aimed in their direction.

  “This antidote you are talking about. We were the ones that made it.” Mace felt his stomach turn as the words left his mouth. The antidote was responsible for too much death and suffering. It was responsible for him. “Somebody from your party must have relocated on a caravan. It was distributed from a Kaiser hospital in South San Francisco.”