Women were and always had been expendable, but these two were not. They would be the cornerstones of his militia. From a caged boy to the leader of a great, walking dead army.
He grew erect at the thought.
It was to be the first time he had sex with them, and it was solely to create children with one or both of these unique creatures. Offspring of whom he would be the father, and that he hoped would be gifted, not only with their amazing powers, but with more.
*****
SIX MONTHS LATER
Angus had watched the girls’ stomachs grow, almost by the day. Their mothers had been furious when they learned he had slept with their daughters, but there was nothing they could do about it. It was their daughters who had the powers, after all.
The gestation period for Alpha and Omega was now only three months. Twice as fast as their mothers.
Both children were female. He named them Maga 1 and Maga 2. Their development excited Angus. While Alpha and Omega had developed at approximately twice the speed of a normal human female, these two offspring grew at four times the rate.
By the time they were eight weeks old, they appeared to be six months. Angus insisted that Alpha and Omega begin training the infants immediately; he did not need them drawing every Mother and Hungerer to him as their mothers had done as babies.
But they would do it pregnant. The moment he realized the accelerated gestation period, he impregnated both of them as soon as they had healed from childbirth; something they also did more quickly than normal humans.
Alpha and Omega had called the creatures out beyond the fence Mothers and Hungerers from the time they were fourteen months old, so Angus had done the same. He had never known what they were or what to call them. Alpha and Omega seemed to have insight there.
His concerns were unfounded as well. Like their mothers, Maga 3 and 4 were able to switch off the beacon almost from the day they were born. Magas 5 through 16 all held the same powers, stronger than either of their mothers.
Angus was not finished. He impregnated Alpha and Omega over and over. They were well-trained, willing participants, and Angus was building an army, the likes of which the world had never before seen.
*****
Maga 12 had an attitude. She refused to eat to maintain her strength. Maestro constantly overheard her attempting to convince the others to let go their control of the Mothers, and in turn, the Hungerers.
Angus had enough. With two of his men at his side, he entered the barn and went directly to the cage containing Maga 12.
“Take her out.”
“Who?” said Maga 12.
“You,” said Maestro. “You’ll accompany me to the tree.”
“No, Maestro,” she pleaded.
“It’s too late to make requests,” he said. “You know my rules.”
She said no more. His men handcuffed her and Maestro dragged her out, staggering backwards, as he pulled her behind him by the chain linking the cuffs.
As they walked into the sunlight, Maestro saw she was distracted, her face turned to the sky. It was a mild day, somewhere in the high-70s, and wonderment touched her features, even as Maestro and his men dragged her to his special place.
From his killing tree hung several rusty items of torture. A fireplace poker. An old Knights of Columbus ceremonial sword that he had sharpened to a deadly edge. Now, exposed to the elements, the sword’s edge was jagged and reddish-brown. Various knives and even an old Hawaiian sling spear hung there, too.
“Arrange her,” he said.
His men did. They uncuffed her left wrist and drew her arms high over her head on either side of the overhead, horizontal branch. She was cuffed again, and now hung from the tree, her toes just touching the ground.
“You instigate, Maga 12.”
“We are miserable,” she said. “We exert all of our energy in keeping the Mothers and Hungerers calm.”
“That is why you were born,” said Angus.
“This place has pleasures to offer that we are not allowed to partake in,” she said. “I just experienced it; the warmth and a light touch upon my skin that feels cool at the same time. I feel it now, even as I am restrained.”
“These things you speak of are called the sun and the wind,” said Angus. “There were many years I was caged, deprived of them. I was kept in that cage by a woman like you. Now that I am your Maestro, it is my decision that these things are only for you to enjoy in the brief moments before your death.”
Maga 12 stared at him. “I will comply, Maestro.”
“It’s too late, Maga 12.” He walked toward her and lifted the sword from its hanger. He grabbed her chin and drew the blade back.
“Maestro,” she whimpered.
“Shut up,” he said, fixing the point of the sword beside her mouth. He pushed it firmly until he felt it poke through her skin.
Her shriek caused gooseflesh to rise all over his body, like tiny nerve endings longing for stimulation. Blood trickled around the rusty blade as he forced it in six inches, eliciting from her another shrill howl. Ignoring it, he pressed harder and angled the blade up toward her right ear, eyeing the bump just under her skin as it separated the flesh from the meat beneath.
She clenched her teeth, tears rolling down her face as her facial muscles tensed, increasing her pain.
The blade poked out just above her ear.
At the creation of the exit wound, a flood of hot tears squirted from her red eyes and echoing though Maestro’s head he heard a cry, I love you Maestro! Please do not harm me!
“You defy me again!” he shouted. “All your life I have told you to remain outside of my mind!”
Maga 12 sobbed. Angus jerked the rusted blade from her face and backed up five strides. He rushed toward her and stabbed her in the heart with the blade, feeling every inch as it slid through her rapidly pumping organ.
As he did so, a sound came from the distance; it was high and piercing and Angus was sure it could be heard far beyond where he stood, beside his killing tree.
He had never heard the sound before.
Maga 12 slumped forward, hanging from the branch. He walked toward her, the blade still embedded in her chest. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back.
The red in her eyes lingered for a moment and disappeared. She was dead.
Angus turned and ran back into the field, toward the barn. His men were running toward him.
“Maestro!” one of them said. “Did you hear that? They scared the shit out of us!”
“What caused it?” asked Angus.
The men looked confused. “It was out of the blue. They were all quiet, then they all jolted all of a sudden. They settled again, then all of a sudden they all just squealed like stuck pigs!”
Stuck pigs, thought Angus.
Then he knew. They were connected. When one died, the others experienced it in some way. Their first jolt had clearly come when he had pushed the sword through Maga 12’s cheek. The last shriek came at her death.
The harm and death of one of their kind physically and emotionally tortured them.
Angus honed his control over the Magas with his new knowledge. He solidified his power over them, eliminating any fear that they would ever defy him again.
Rock Springs, Texas
2026
It was almost time to take his building troops on the road. He now had the cages of his barn filled to capacity. Of these women, forty-six were second-generation versions of Alpha and Omega. He had not attempted to impregnate any of their offspring yet; they were powerful and he imagined that the gestation time would be cut in half again.
Maria and Sofia were the matriarchs, but they could not be trusted. Anytime they were given even the smallest degree of trust, the red-eyed Mothers would tell them to do things that endangered his plans, and it was as if they were unable to resist their commands. They had, at different times, attempted to release the uninfected captives. Twice they had attempted to kill Alpha and Omega, their own children.
How Angus longed to show off his power. He would go north and along the way, would pick up more and more recruits to his army.
He now had ten men at his disposal who assisted him in his management of the hordes, both of the dead and living variety.
One of the men who called himself Monk was a tattoo artist. That intrigued Angus. He had been envisioning an image in his mind, and asked Monk if he could recreate it.
Monk had been more than willing; Angus went with him to raid a local tattoo shop, gathering the proper tools needed for the job. The completion of the tattoo took twelve sessions, but when it was complete, Angus felt changed; he felt complete.
He was Maestro. He would conduct his army of living dead and their commanders as a conductor led a symphony.
When the tattoo was complete and healed, Angus often wore no shirt; he wanted to etch his role as master into the minds of his followers.
On the day of their departure, he had his men – for there were no women other than the powerful ones – pack up all of his supplies. Not that he would need much; he intended to take what he needed from the people he encountered.
A voice came on his radio. “Maestro,” it said. “I have the circus cars.” It was Brian, one of his men.
“Are you kidding me?” asked Angus.
“I know better than that,” Brian said. “We have six interlinking cage trailers, about fifteen feet long.”
“Tell me they’re yellow and red striped,” said Angus. “Please.”
“Some are, Maestro. Others are really decorated with gold paint and other pictures and stuff. All in excellent condition, and they were on jack stands with the tires covered when we found ‘em, so when we pumped ‘em up, they held air fine. In great shape.”
Angus raised his hands in the air and looked down at the inked tuxedo on his chest and stomach. He wished he had a mirror. His own face aroused him. He smiled.
The Circus World Museum had been in town when the transformation of humanity took place. With them, they brought several of the old cage cars that would be pulled one after the other through town, being drawn at that time by horses, but since modified so that the Museum could drive all over the United States for their shows.
As soon as Angus made the decision to create an army of the zombie-like things, he had set his sights on those cars. They would be perfect for transporting his animals. All of his female animals, both wild and obedient.
Angus walked out and pressed the remote control, watching the gate swing outward. Brian sat behind the wheel with Curtis beside him, another of his uninfected trustees. As he pulled the several cars in, linked one after the other and rolling behind the dual-cab, Dodge diesel pickup truck, a rotter staggered toward the closing gate.
Angus quickly hit the button again, allowing him inside. Now, if straggling shamblers showed up, he would let them in. One of the many, highly sensitive Magas he had created would immediately instruct a Mother to control it as their Maestro wished, and the Hungerer would go where directed.
On the day of their departure, he had everyone put into the six rolling cages. There were no tarps on them, so his army was on display to the world that would experience them firsthand.
*****
Angus, the son of Nancy and the brother of Jane, set forth on a new path that day in 2026.
Before they departed, he had his men place a two-foot tall wooden box upside-down in the middle of his modern-day wagon train.
“Today we explore new places,” he said. “We continue to grow our numbers with every town we pass; you will call to them, Magas, and they will come to us. When we are too many, we will slow to a walk to allow our army of the walking dead to stay with us, and we will ensure that you and they are fed and strong. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Maestro,” they all said together.
Not all of them. His eyes had fallen on the faces of Maria and Sofia, locked in the second car and staring at him as though their hard looks could change him in some way.
They had not acknowledged him with a Yes, Maestro.
As Angus dismounted the box and walked toward them, he said, “Do you not wish to go?
“Of course not,” spat Sofia. “You are a thug, a murderer. You are no better than the cartels.”
Angus removed a small, .380 Auto Smith & Wesson from his pants, held the gun out and fired into Sofia’s head. The blood spray fanned out behind her, and several of his Magas, took the spatter.
He fired once more, the hole from that round located dead center in the skull of Maria.
The shriek that filled his mind the moment the two women drew their last breaths was intense.
He clapped both his palms over his ears and begged silently for them to stop.
Eventually, they did. When they moved up to the bars to face him, their expressions filled with anguish and hatred he realized he had made a mistake; he had killed their mothers and they were now powerful and angry.
“Magas, you must all understand that they had become untrustworthy from the moment they were exposed to the Mothers’ vapor prior to your birth. Unlike you, they could not be trusted, nor could they again, ever.”
“We were exposed, too!” shouted Alpha. “We have never done anything dangerous!”
“You’ve never followed the commands of the Mothers,” said Angus. “Maria and Sofia did this. It is why they never became trustees.”
Omega only stared at him.
Alpha shook her head and walked away.
Angus – Maestro – climbed up into the seat of the Freightliner and started the engine. He used his remote to open the gate, and set out on the road.
As he made his way north, it was Angus’ intention to instruct all of his Magas, to call out, draw in, and control as many of the living dead creatures as possible. They would join his numbers until they had no more capacity to transport them, at which point they would slow to a march. He would capture men women and children for food and slaves as he amassed his army of the walking dead.
From his cage where men urinated on him for ten dollars, to the leader of the most powerful, indestructible army the globe had ever known.
Maestro would conquer all whom he encountered.
Similar to P.T. Barnum, Angus Almaraz was about to introduce the scariest show on earth to the masses.
*****
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Charlie crouched in the field beside the breached fence, currently under repair by several men.
Crawling slowly, so as not to cause the tall grass above her to sway and reveal her presence, she searched.
Hemp had been behind her; when he had stood, revealing himself, she felt it was a mistake. She could not say anything, though. He would have revealed her and convinced her to surrender with them.
She didn’t know where Max and Isis had gone, but as long as they were not caught, she knew she had a chance. She still had her radio, and it was almost time to call them.
She came upon a pack, and sighed with relief. It was Hemp’s. It contained more WAT-5 than all the rest, but the more she could accumulate, the better she would feel. The pink eye drops were there, too, which could come in handy.
When she had peered through the grass to where everyone had been standing before Maestro in the street, she noticed that all of her friends had dropped their backpacks before surrendering. Perhaps it was that they hoped they would be able to escape and recover the supplies from the field later.
It would be a disaster for this Maestro to discover their most crucial defensive tools; while they had invited the world to learn of urushiol and WAT-5, this killer was clearly not a man who would use either for the good of humankind.
She came upon Gem’s pack and smiled to herself again. Flex’s was just beside it, and she found Dave an
d Punch’s packs just a few feet away. Ten minutes later, she discovered the packs belonging to Trina and Taylor, just five or so feet east of Flex’s pack. Both were beige, so had blended in with the color of the dead grass.
She did not find Nel’s pack, but he wasn’t wearing it when taken prisoner by Maestro’s men, so she assumed he may have hidden it before making his rescue attempt.
Other than Nelson’s, she had all of the packs. It was a relief.
Illuminating only the red light on her headlamp, she counted fifty-eight doses of WAT-5 in her softly-lit hands. That was 290 hours of protection for one person. Isis and Max carried only a couple of doses each, though they did not often use it.
She found 10 doses of the alternate wafers created from the Mothers’ vapor, that Hemp had named REV-N. This stood for Red-Eye Vapor Neutralizer; these were only good for preventing young women of child-bearing years from falling under the control of the Mothers after being exposed to their vapor.
From experience, they knew it worked if taken quickly after the exposure – as it had on Lola – but only limited testing had been done. After the settling of Kingman, exposures such as that had simply not occurred with enough frequency to establish its effectiveness in cases of long-prior dousing.
Charlie piled the packs and stood to look at the fence. The men worked quickly. As all of the Mothers and Hungerers within the cage stood crowded in the west side of the enclosure, the men had brought in welders and generators and had repaired all but the last ten feet of fencing. They had raised and secured the north fence that Nelson had plowed over, too.
She would wait. Once they were gone, she could safely pull the many backpacks to a secure location and store them for later retrieval. She had brought her small crossbow with her, so she had the ability to kill with stealth. From Dave’s pack, she took the Walther PPK with its silencer. She felt ready to mount whatever offensive she could. She would not live in a world without her husband, son and her family of friends.
Dead Hunger VII_The Reign of Isis Page 24
