Something stung his cheek and he put his hand up to his face and felt a warm stickiness.
He tasted it. It gave him power.
An entire section of fencing fell and his Magas directed the Mothers to send the Hungerers to the opening.
*****
Flex saw men running toward where Maestro stood, weapons in hand. One or two would stop and fire at him, but he was a small target and he was high on the hill.
He said, “Jesus fucking Christ, George, get that goddamned thing cut already! They’re destroying the pit!”
The creatures climbed from beneath the fallen fence on the north side of the pit. The top was also pressed against the dirt making it difficult for them to crawl from beneath it, but dozens were making progress and getting through.
As they did so, they attacked the unprotected citizens of Kingman. When magazines ran empty the rotters were there to take advantage, their jaws open wide, ripping at the flesh of the unprotected men and women.
Urushiol bottles in disrepair because of the safety people had lived under for so many years.
Flex realized they were wholly unprepared for a full scale invasion of the walking dead.
To his horror, Flex spotted Kimberly near the pit, struggling with a small pistol.
“Kimberly, run!” he shouted, but the cacophony of sound was too much. She could not hear. Behind her three rotters had escaped the fence and now moved toward her.
“Kimberly!” shouted Flex, but he was too far away to take a shot without hitting other citizens.
The monsters reached her. They clawed at her thick, blonde hair, pulling her backward to the ground where they fell upon her, immediately tearing her open and feasting on her warm innards.
Flex turned and vomited. She had been with them for so many years, and had proved her heart and courage many times over.
Kimberly lost the battle, her body now only moving from the motion of her attackers feeding. Flex stole a quick glance further along the fallen cage. He spotted Lolita Lane and Rachel Reed working alongside Serena, two of the three resorting to close-combat weapons in the form of the sharpened rebar spikes they had reported seeing the children of Dunsmuir, California use so effectively. Lola, the sole holdout, used her favorite six-inch blades of choice, and in each hand Flex saw the blood-stained metal flashing as she combined kicks, spins and thrusts, stilling the walking dead predators for the last time.
For the moment, the women had the upper hand, taking each abnormal out as they tried to crawl free of the fence, their mounting dead bodies becoming further barriers to those behind them still trying to escape and feed.
Flex witnessed six kills in his short glance, equally distributed between the three determined Hungerer slayers.
Down the line to their left and right, several other Kingman residents engaged in similar battles. There were not enough of them though, and Flex could see with a glance that everyone was exhausted.
The Sawzall’s charge had depleted. Flex pushed George aside. He kicked at the wood, but the cut was not deep enough yet. He gave it two more good kicks and a four-inch chunk broke free, allowing some of the channeled river water to begin flowing into their new trough.
“That’s not enough, Flex!” said Hemp, who was busy manipulating the drum dolly, preparing to dump the urushiol into the trough. “The flow is so minimal it’s just running out from beneath the boards.”
“Does anyone who can hear me have a hatchet!” shouted Flex.
A man ran over, wielding a pickaxe. “This is the best I can do,” he said. “Trade you for a gun.”
Flex nodded, gave him a Glock from one of his drop holsters, and grabbed the pickaxe. He moved in and hacked away at the wood, slowly breaking piece by piece away until the flow actually began to work its way down toward the pit rather than leaking into the streets.
“Still too slow!” shouted Flex, swinging the pickaxe for all it was worth. His ankle screamed as he hacked frantically at the wood.
Charlie ran up, breathing hard, her face white. “Where’s Gem, Flex?”
He looked up at her, his lungs burning. “Gem? I thought you went after her!”
Charlie shook her head. “No, Flex! Taylor was shot,” she said. “Gem and I got Vikki and Doc Scofield on the radio and I waited with her, but Gem took off. Maestro shot Tay!”
Flex looked up and furrowed his brow. “Jesus Christ! The bastard’s right up there and I don’t see Gem anywhere.”
“Hemp! Take over here!” he shouted, dropping the pickaxe and hobbling on his bad leg in the direction of the demonic conductor on the hill, swinging his Daewoo around to kill position.
*****
“It’s useless, dude!” said Nelson. “It’s dead!” He pulled out a star and flung it, scoring a bulls eye in the forehead of a Hungerer that had just broken free of the cage.
“We’re fucked,” said Dave, pulling out his gun. He ran to the fence and fired several shots into the horde, but even as they fell, the number never appeared smaller.
The rotters rushed the fence on his side now.
Another section of fence fell to the east of them, and zombies again tried crawling from under the chain-link roof.
The Magas that had tumbled onto the fence from the catwalk now sagged so low that the Hungerers reached up, their clawing, dirty fingernails scratching and ripping at their skin, but each of them struggled to keep their eyes on Maestro, who amazingly, had avoided being struck by any rounds yet. He stood there like a specter, ordering the mayhem below.
Isis approached the generator. She put her hands on top of it and closed her eyes. Knowing from the many volumes of encyclopedias she had read, she understood the functions of a diesel engine. All this needed to do was turn, though. They were not generating power; the rotation was only necessary to turn a pump and create hydraulic and pneumatic pressure.
She envisioned a rotation in her mind. Clockwise, turning, turning. Increasing in speed, faster and faster. She felt a new vibration under her hand. Not the Mothers destroying the cage, but the motor turning at her command.
As she felt her success, she relaxed, and pictured the turning motor in her mind, coupled to the pump that powered the hydraulic shafts buried within the pit and pressurized the lines through which the urushiol flowed.
“Isis!” shouted Dave Gammon. “Isis, it’s coming out!”
“The shafts!” said Nelson. “Faster, Isis! We need that to go a lot faster!”
Megan and Beauty dropped down into the mud beside Isis and lay their hands on the motor. All of their hands touching one another, Isis felt Beauty and Megan connecting with her thoughts, and now the three of them issued the same commands.
Turn, turn, turn, faster, faster, faster.
The motor spun up to an ear-piercing whir, the bearings within singing as it spun up to a speed far beyond what even the motor would have generated.
The shafts jabbed out of the ground, and bodies jerked upward over every inch of the pit. Liquid flowed from the sprinklers that criss-crossed the pit’s lid, and now the inside of the pit looked like a Mixmaster with hundreds of sharp, steel shafts engaging and disengaging, spiking through heads, legs, arms, faces and bodies without discretion.
Suddenly the entire top crashed down atop the dying zombies inside, and the spikes now protruded into the bodies of the Magas still atop the fence.
Isis saw this, but was unable to prepare for the emotional and physical agony of the many dying Hybrids; Max screamed beside her, and the cries of Beauty and Megan added to her emotional terror and pain.
The motor wound down and stopped. Concentration was impossible as their sisters died just yards away.
Max, Isis, Beauty and Megan lay writhing in emotional and physical agony, powerless to do any more.
*****
Gem saw Maestro ahead. He stood, his arms raised, his eyes scanning the destruction and death below, a demonic smile on his face. Gem had taken brief looks at the activity happening in and around the pit, but she was not
sure if the townspeople of Kingman were winning or losing to the lunatic on the hill.
She saw a mound in the trail ahead and hurried to it. It was Trina.
Gem felt her neck for a pulse, looked for blood. She found a heartbeat and saw no blood except for a bit running from a cut on her head. She was alive.
She glanced back up. If Maestro looked to his left, he would see her.
Gem touched Trina’s cheek and scrambled up the hill toward the fence, hoping the noise below was still loud enough to provide cover.
Taking slow steps, she drew even with the man below and began sidestepping down the hill, directly behind him.
Ten feet away. Five feet. Three feet.
She began to reach for her knife, but saw something more satisfying at his waist.
A machete. Dropping her knife back into its sheath, she eyed the handle and reached out to take it.
*****
Many of the Magas lay sprawled on the fencing, their bodies pierced by the finely sharpened shafts that projected from the floor of the pit.
Many others had been severely injured, but not killed. Isis stood again, the agony of the Magas echoing through every nerve ending in her body and every synapse in her brain.
She stared at Maestro and noticed movement from up the hill. It was Gem, sliding down the hill directly behind him.
Isis held her breath. She pushed, Aunt Gem, he doesn’t know you’re there. Avenge the Magas he killed and let him draw his last breath.
Upon seeing Maestro there, Isis had considered using her telekinesis to ignite him like a human torch, leaving nothing but charred bones in his place.
Instead, she would let Gemina Cardoza, who carried within her a fire that Isis had long recognized, kill Maestro.
*****
Flex climbed the trail, his ankle screaming.
As he came around the corner and cleared the tall weeds, he saw a body lying in the trail twenty yards ahead.
It was Trina. He called out to her but she didn’t move. As he crested the hill, he stopped.
Maestro stood on the trail beyond Trina, nude. On his face was a Cheshire grin, and as Flex stared, taken aback briefly, Maestro’s arms went up and he said, “I orchestrate yours and the death of everyone you love.”
Movement behind him caught Flex’s eye, and he saw Gem sidestepping down the hill behind Maestro.
Flex ran toward Trina, but his ankle folded beneath him and he fell forward.
Maestro saw his weakness and bolted for Trina. When he reached her, he slapped her hard in the face, waking her, and yanked her from the dirt, wrapping his arm around her neck and placing his other open palm on the side of her head.
“Would you like to see me snap her neck?” he asked, his smile even wider than seemed humanly possible.
“Let her go,” said Flex, struggling back to his feet. “She didn’t do anything to you. We’ll let you take your girls home and whatever else you want. Just let that girl come to me.”
“He’s crazy, Dad,” cried Trina. “Don’t give him anything!”
“Be quiet now, Trini,” said Flex. “Maestro … I think that’s what you like to be called … we never meant to hurt you. We came into your town to kill some zombies, that’s it. Nothin’ more, and then you showed up. We can fix this.”
Gem was on the trail now, ten feet behind him. Flex held his breath, using every bit of power within him to keep his eyes on Maestro and off Gem.
“All I really need to do – and mind you, I don’t have most of my best tools here now – but if I just hold her neck in place and press firmly with my right palm, it’s actually quite easy to snap a neck. The death varies from very fast to agonizingly slow, which really depends on how the neck snaps. While all the same, they are all different, you know, like snowflakes.”
“Trina, just stay calm, baby,” said Flex, seeing Gem was five feet away. “He knows he’s dead the minute he hurts you.”
“Everything is a bit fucked right now,” said Maestro. “I was building my army up there. I’ve been creating these amazing slaves – so powerful and obedient – for years. Perfecting them, really. You can see how they serve me.”
“They fear you, Maestro,” said Flex. “I don’t know that there’s any love there. No admiration. Just fear.”
“Sometimes that’s enough,” he said. “Let me show you now what I was –”
Gem pressed the razor-sharp knife against his wrist and yanked it backward, slicing through the tendons as his right hand went slack, releasing Trina’s head. After administering the first cut, she put the blade to his neck and said, “Let her go or I’ll slice your throat and you’ll choke on your own blood.”
Maestro slowly released Trina, who immediately ran two steps forward and spun around. She reached into her other boot and pulled out a small .380 Automatic. Now she trained it on Maestro, sure to keep Gem out of her sights.
Gem reached down and slid the machete from Maestro’s belt and kicked him in the back of his knees, dropping him onto his back.
His head hit the dirt trail hard and his teeth bit into his tongue. “Fuck,” he said, spitting blood that spattered his chin and chest.
Trina did not move. She stood there, holding the gun on him with both shaking hands.
“Trini, c’mon,” said Flex. She turned to glance at him, and Flex saw that it wasn’t fear that caused her to shake. He could see the rage in her eyes. She turned back toward Gem and Maestro.
“Just go to Flex, Trina,” Gem said, her eyes never leaving Maestro. “He looks like he could use some help.”
“Not fucking yet,” said Trina, glaring.
“Trina,” said Gem, her voice stern.
“Mom, you told me a long time ago how you and dad pulled Tay from a stack of bodies in a house in Atlanta when she was a little girl. That was the day I met her, and she was a mess like I was after seeing what happened to my family. This son of a bitch imprisoned women and girls. I need this.”
Gem nodded. “Maestro, I believe Trina has a score to settle. You might want to prepare yourself.”
He laughed. “Fuck you, fuck her, and fuck the useless whore I shot.”
Trina rushed toward Maestro and dropped down beside him, the gun pressed against his right shoulder. “Where’d you shoot my friend, asshole? Here?” She fired the gun and Maestro’s body convulsed as he screamed.
“Aw, crap,” said Gem. “She put a hole in your stupid ink suit. Maybe you can have that shit tailored.”
Trina wasn’t finished. “You know, I didn’t really see the shot very well because you had a fucking gun in my face. Maybe you got her in the knee?” Trina moved the gun and pressed the barrel against his right kneecap. She fired again.
Maestro’s body convulsed and Flex swore he heard the crack of bone beneath the gun’s report.
He cried out in agony now, his eyes squeezed shut.
“I’m done,” said Trina. She turned and went to Flex, who put his arm out. She slid beneath it and provided support.
Gem straddled Maestro, the knife in one hand and the machete in the other.
“I shouldn’t give a shit, but what made you this way?” she asked.
“Gem, he is what he is,” said Flex. “Kill him.”
“Tell me,” said Gem.
“You made me this way,” spat Maestro. “Bitches like you. You belong … in cages because you’re goddamned animals, and you gotta train animals if you’re gonna let them live.”
Flex was transfixed as Gem stared into his eyes. His breath rose and fell quickly, and as Flex looked on, Maestro got an erection.
“Gem, he’s a sick fuck,” said Flex. “Don’t let him take another goddamned breath!”
“Mom, the fucker has a goddamned hard on!” shouted Trina. “He’s enjoying this!”
Gem turned to see, and Flex watched her expression turn from anger to disgust. She got up and stood beside him, the fingers of her right hand opening and closing on the handle of the machete.
Maestro either could no
t, or did not bother trying to move.
“You created those young women down there to be your slaves. They were born into captivity and you kept them in cages.”
Maestro managed a weak laugh. “My daughters,” he said. “My legacy.”
“Yeah, there’s that,” said Gem, stepping back and raising the machete over her head. She stared at his erect penis for a brief second before bringing her arm down in a sweeping arc.
His severed manhood balanced there for a moment after the sharp blade exited his flesh, then toppled into the dust beside him.
His scream echoed across the town of Kingman, silencing many of the voices from down below.
Flex cringed and closed his eyes. He didn’t blame her, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch.
“Yeah, mom!” shouted Trina, stomping her foot in the dirt.
Gem dropped to her knee and jammed her knife into the small of Maestro’s throat and pressed it straight down. Blood bubbled up from the wound, but she twisted it back and forth until his gurgling ceased and his eyes stared open and blank toward the cloudy sky.
Gem Cardoza stood and stared down at the dead man, for Flex knew that Gem was aware he was nothing more than that now.
She looked at him and Trina, tears pouring down her face.
“Help me,” said Flex, moving toward Gem. Trina put his arm over her shoulder and they stumbled toward where Gem stood. As she passed Maestro, Trina grimaced and kicked his severed penis off the trail and down the hillside.
They reached Gem and the three of them embraced, holding one another for a long time.
“I know good work when I see it,” said Charlie.
They looked up and saw Charlie standing at the base of the trail. She threw them a wave, her crossbow in her other hand. “I was down the hill trying to get a shot, but you guys were pretty much in my way. Glad you got it done.”
Gem waved her over. “Come here,” she said. “Is Tay okay?”
Dead Hunger VII_The Reign of Isis Page 36
