No Mere Zombie: Deathless Book 2

by Chris Fox

  He picked up a 12 gauge for himself, stuffing four boxes of shells into his cargo pants. If this came to combat it would be close quarters.

  “Thanks,” Bridget said, strapping the .460’s neoprene holster to her thigh. It was impressive how quickly she’d adapted to carrying a gun, especially compared to the others who were unwilling to even pick one up.

  The conversation died as the snowy werewolf approached. She was flanked by two of the men in their ridiculous umpire’s masks. The cost to their peripheral vision far outweighed any protection it might grant. It was a security blanket and a bad tactical one at that.

  “This way,” Diana rumbled. She gave Liz a deferential nod, gesturing for her to follow. Liz fell in beside her, smelling of wet dog and sweat. Jordan and the rest fell in behind her. The umpires kept a respectful distance, watching them warily but with the obvious terror of those who know they’re seriously outmatched.

  They were led through several rows of tents, mostly occupied by families, though more than one held tables with jerky or canned food. Only one had water and it had two guards with M-16s flanking it. He felt their gazes, giving a grin when their postures straightened. They knew a manageable threat when they saw one. Liz would tear them apart, so they left her to Diana. But they could handle a normal man and as far as they were concerned that’s exactly what Jordan was. They were the only non-amateurs in the plaza. Water must be in short supply for them to have been assigned guard duty.

  They reached the final row of tents, which butted up against the wall of the stadium. Diana stopped in front of large green pavilion of the type he’d seen at U.N. Installations in Africa. It was perfect for a mobile command center, again if resources were an issue. Four guards waited outside, two linebacker types and an odd pair. One was a short skinny guy with dark skin and wireframe glasses, from south India most likely. The other was a blonde in her early twenties with hard brown eyes and the best bitch face he’d seen in a while. The classic hot-girl defense mechanism.

  Neither was human. There wasn’t anything obvious, but they were too aware of their surroundings. Too unalarmed by the pair of nine foot werewolves that ducked into the pavilion. Besides, the only way they’d have been left as guards was if they were more than they appeared to be. He gave them a respectful nod as he followed Blair into the tent. Bridget trailed after, hand never leaving the .460’s rubber grip. Jordan felt like a proud father.

  A smattering of plastic chairs surrounded several folding tables that had been pushed together to form one large desk. It was cluttered with piles of paper, books and a map of the city with little green army men scattered at different locations. A bear of a man with a bristly black beard that grew like an untended hedge stood at the tables, peering at his map. He wore glasses with a thick black frame and a battered fedora Jordan would have recognized anywhere.

  “Doctor Roberts?” Jordan asked, stepping up between Liz and Diana. Both glowered down at him, but he ignored them.

  “Commander Jordan?” Roberts raised an eyebrow. He rose from behind the desk, crossing his arms. His voice was frosty. “You’re the last person I would have expected to see, though I shouldn’t be surprised. The pyramid started this whole mess and I’ve long suspected that Mohn must be at the heart of everything.”

  “You’re Medico Roberto? That's priceless,” Blair said, grinning with some of the enthusiasm Jordan thought circumstances had stamped out of him. It was the closest Jordan had seen him drift to the man he’d been when he first arrived at the Ark, before this whole messy op had started.

  “I can’t believe you’re alive,” Blair continued. “How did you get here? Did Alejandro make it?”

  “Smith?” Roberts blinked as he took in Blair. He stepped from behind the desk, offering a hand. “I guess it makes sense that you’d be alive. I’ve deduced that werewolves rise from the corpses of those they slay. Whatever killed you must have been the progenitor of the disease their bite contains. Fascinating. You’re the very first werewolf.”

  “You know these men, Medico?” Diana rumbled, eyeing them with renewed curiosity. She licked her chops, probably a reflexive gesture, since she didn’t seem hostile. It was damned unnerving, though.

  “Yes Diana, it’s all right. Could you ask Daveed to bring us some water? We have a few things we need to discuss and it may take some time."

  Diana gave a shallow bow, then ducked through the tent flap and back into the sweltering heat.

  Roberts waited for her to go before speaking. “Now then, why don’t you all explain exactly what brings you to my city, and why I shouldn’t have you executed?”

  Chapter 30- Team Crazy

  Trevor threw the rusted-out Bronco into low gear, powering over the curb and onto the other side of the highway. Irakesh thumbed his way through a book written in Spanish about Christopher Columbus, seemingly oblivious to the rough ride. It was the third he’d devoured in as many days. His thirst for knowledge was insatiable and Trevor couldn’t really blame him. He had thirteen thousand years to catch up on, after all.

  “Did you catch that scent?” Cyntia purred into his ear, leaning forward and rubbing a hand along his shoulder. She reeked like a brothel, somehow managing to smell like sex. The fact that he was quite clearly dead didn’t seem to phase her in the slightest.

  That was just one of a number of signs that she was growing unstable. From the sly looks Irakesh shot her, Trevor was pretty sure the deathless knew why. If he had to guess, it had to do something with the either the frequency or the content of her feeding. She ate zombie and human alike, as often as possible. It had strengthened her. She’d gained at least two inches when in wolf form and was visibly stronger, but her once shiny blonde fur had faded to a flat dun. Her eyes had changed to a terrifying scarlet when she shifted.

  It might even make sense from a scientific standpoint. The werewolf virus altered DNA. Eating zombies meant she was ingesting a rival virus. If the changes were any indication, both viruses were mutating. Into what Trevor couldn't say, but he bet Irakesh could. What he wouldn't give for one of Erik's CellScopes and fifteen minutes of the Aussie's time. He could analyze the blood and answer the question definitively.

  “No, what was it?” he finally answered, testing the air. His sense of smell had grown sharper, but it was his hearing that was truly amazing now. Yet there was nothing over the roar of the engine.

  “A familiar scent. There’s a female nearby, and a few humans,” Cyntia explained, resting her head against his shoulder like some needy cat. He ignored her as best he could, pity warring with distaste.

  “Which way?” he asked, scanning the roadway. The heat was oppressive, but since he no longer sweat it didn’t bother him the way that it used to. He was simply aware of it.

  “They are up ahead,” Irakesh broke in, closing his book. His eyes narrowed as he peered through the windshield. “See that large white trailer? A semi, I believe it’s called. They’re on top of it, lying flat. It looks like they’re clearing nascent deathless. There’s a pile of bodies around their vehicle.”

  Irakesh was right. Trevor could see the werewolf now, her black fur a stark contrast against the blue sky. She held a spear of some kind and was jabbing at the zombies clustered around the truck. Her companions were all humans in camouflage fatigues. Each had a rifle, but none were firing. Made sense. Bullets were going to become very scarce in the near future. Let the werewolf do the work unless they got into trouble.

  “Trevor, handle the men. Kill them and devour the bodies. Leave the Ka-Ken for Cyntia, she will gain great strength from consuming her,” Irakesh instructed. He turned that awful gaze Trevor’s way.

  “We could just pass them by. If we’re being pursued, confrontations like this could reveal our presence,” Trevor suggested. More to save these people’s lives than because he feared discovery. Hell, he welcomed discovery. The more time he spent with Irakesh the more certain he became that the deathless had to be stopped. If only he could do that himself.

  “I
t was neither a request, nor a suggestion. You will enact my will, thrall,” Irakesh growled, eyes flaring an evil shade of green. Trevor felt something hot wash over him, seeping into his nerves. The sensation was becoming all too familiar and it made him grind his teeth. Irakesh could yank him about like a puppet, working with the strange voice to keep Trevor a prisoner in his own body. “The strength we will gain here more than outweighs potential discovery. Besides, the time will soon come when you and Cyntia are powerful enough to help me destroy the Ka-Dun Isis sent after us.”

  For now he imposes his will on you through domination. In time your strength will grow and you will be able to resist his influence. He is well trained, but young. You will eclipse him, but you must be patient. He must not see you as a threat until it is too late.

  Trevor didn’t respond to the strange voice, instead nodding to Irakesh and focusing on the road ahead of him. He didn’t know what the voice was and it confused the hell out of him. One moment it was working with Irakesh, the next offering advice on how he could backstab the bald monster.

  He guided the Bronco to a stop near the semi. The people on top had noticed their arrival and were snatching up rifles. None made a threatening move. Cyntia gave a growl and began to shift. She planted both powerful legs against her door and kicked with all that incredible strength. The door popped off like a cork from a champagne bottle, slamming into a nearby Focus with a tremendous clatter.

  Trevor massaged his temples. “Couldn’t you have just opened it?”

  Cyntia leapt out, charging towards the semi before Trevor could even open the door. Why was he the one who’d ended up on team crazy?

  He flipped the latch and rolled out the door, coming up in a crouch. They hadn’t seen him. He dove forward, rolling into the shadow cast by the semi. Then he was gone, form melting into the mass of zombies still milling about the semi. He needn’t have bothered after Cyntia’s showy entrance. The men’s rifles vomited slugs in her direction, sharp cracks stinging his ears as they all fired. It was so different than when he had ear protection at the range. Especially with his dramatically enhanced hearing.

  Then Cyntia was gone, melting into the shadows just as he had. The black furred female spun around, scanning the area for her opponent. Neither she nor her three companions seemed sure what to do. Perhaps they hadn’t encountered anyone who could shadow walk. Cyntia had received instruction from Liz and maybe the Mother herself. It afforded her an unfair edge against this poor werewolf. Pity. It all but guaranteed the midnight’s death.

  Your compassion is a weakness. Bury it. The Ka-Ken's death will bring your ally strength. If you wish to be free of your master, you will require her aid.

  Trevor dropped a hand to his .45, flicking the catch on the holster with his thumb. He eased the weapon from the black leather as he waited for Cyntia to appear. A moment later she burst from the shadows behind the poor female, shredding her throat with razored claws even as she bit down on the spine. Cyntia’s victim crumpled, drawing the eyes of all three men.

  Now.

  He leapt skyward, giving a slight forward spin to compensate for the recoil. Trevor sighted down the metal sights, aligning the barrel with the first man’s forehead. Then he blurred, constricting the trigger like a boa. It coughed a round, which punched through the bridge of the surprised victim’s nose. His weapon aligned with the second target and he constricted again. The second round took his target through the throat, exiting through the spine. The third target he cored through the heart, which beat loudly enough to make it an easy target.

  Trevor landed on the edge of the semi as all three men collapsed, twitching involuntarily as their bodies realized the truth. They were already dead.

  “Well done,” Irakesh called, stepping from the vehicle. An alarmingly predatory grin spread across his face. “Look. Cyntia has already finished her meal. It will make her strong.”

  Trevor turned towards her. There weren’t even bones left, at least not that he could see. Cyntia licked a piece of gore from her muzzle, giving him the single most alarming smile he’d ever seen. She was drenched in gore, eyes wild and bestial. Then she dropped to her haunches and began to feed on the first human. He wanted to be sick, but instead felt the most awful hunger.

  Trevor dropped to his knees and began to feed on the first man, face mercifully obscured by the bullet’s entry wound. He started with the brain, always the most important part. The man would have memories that could prove useful, and devouring his mind would strengthen Trevor.

  The rush came. Countless fragments stormed through him, bits of memory. A wife and child, brutally killed during the initial outbreak. A new friend, dead beside him. Wait, what was that? He chased down a distant image, an old thought. Expertly guiding a Cessna into an S-turn.

  “Irakesh,” Trevor called, wiping gore from his chin. “This is it. The man was a highly experienced pilot. I think I can fly us once we reach Panama.”

  “Excellent,” Irakesh said, a wide grin splitting his too handsome face. “All we need do is ensure we are uninterrupted long enough to find this nuclear device and one of these wonderful aircraft I see in my new memories. You shall be rewarded, thrall. Watch with care. I would have you master this ability. It will serve us well in the days to come.”

  Irakesh blurred, suddenly standing next to Trevor on top of the semi. He closed his eyes, extending both arms, fingers splayed into the breeze. Trevor felt something. A gathering energy crackling just past the edge of sight, something electric he couldn’t quite see. It gathered around Irakesh and then pulsed outwards, a finger’s breadth beyond hearing or sight.

  Every shambling corpse stopped. They slowly turned to face Irakesh, then took a step towards him in unison. They shuffled towards the semi with single-minded purpose. Just the way he had on the day Irakesh had ensnared him. What was it that his master had just done?

  He sent out an energy pulse. The mindless will do anything to feast on such pure energy, so they seek it at all costs. Once they are close they will be within range of his blood and he will dominate them.

  I can do this, too? Trevor thought. The scientist in him was fascinated. It had to be signal-based. Even light was a wave, which was just a form of signal. Irakesh was somehow broadcasting a powerful signal.

  It is a simple thing, easily mastered. One of the pillars of deathless power, the ability to gather an army. All deathless of note have many such thralls. With so many nascent deathless this power will be even more vital in this age. Learn it well, for once you have freed yourself you will need it to establish your own power base.

  At least twenty zombies had already gathered. More appeared from the thick trees on the side of the road. Still others down both sides of the road. They were coming from all directions. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.

  “What are you going to do with them?” Trevor asked. He was positive that he didn’t want to know, but he couldn’t bear not knowing, either.

  “I can feel the Ka-Dun in that direction, perhaps two or three miles away. I will send every deathless we encounter to stop him.”

  Chapter 31- Steve

  Jordan eyed Bridget and Blair chatting in low tones in the corner of the pavilion. Bridget was giving one of those coy smiles, letting her hair screen her face. Four feet to their right a very agitated Liz-wolf tried to pretend like she wasn't watching them.

  Yup, Jordan definitely missed Mohn professionalism. He shifted his attention back to Doctor Roberts, who thumped the table with each point in his tirade.

  “Mohn orchestrated the entire incident at the pyramid. They led us there like lambs to a slaughter; that cannot be denied. They allowed scientists and artists to explore a site that they knew to be dangerous. I watched Alejandro get torn apart. I was torn apart,” Roberts barked, eyes searing everyone. He leaned forward looking right at Jordan. “You were the head honcho. The guy at the top. You knew what was going on there, knew about the werewolves and the radiation. All of it. You let our team get slaughtered for your person
al crusade. Now you expect me to simply allow you to walk out of here as if nothing had transpired? I’m not going to do that, Mr. Jordan. I’m going to have you executed.”

  Jordan was still considering a response when Blair spoke.

  “No, you’re not,” Blair said, turning from Bridget to face the doctor. The words were quiet. So quiet Jordan may not have heard them without his enhanced hearing. He watched as Blair took three very deliberate steps towards the desk, eyes locked on Roberts. “If you try, we’ll have to resist and that will end very, very badly for your people.”

  “What the hell happened to you, Smith? You should be on my side. He betrayed us all. They murdered the world, man. How can you not see that? You, of all people,” Roberts asked, rising to meet Blair’s advance. This was going south. Quickly. Still, his interference would solve nothing. Roberts might listen to Blair. Maybe.

  “I am on your side, Roberts,” Blair said, planting both hands on the table. Only a foot separated the two men now. “Mohn has a lot to answer for, more than you can possibly know. Jordan here hunted me all the way to San Diego and blew up the house of a very good friend. He fought to the end to keep us from waking the Mother and trust me when I say we very much need her if we’re going to save anything of humanity.”

  “You’re not helping his case,” Roberts snarled, jerking his head towards Jordan. “Hell, you’re admitting he’s the problem.”

  “Was,” Blair shot back, gaze unflinching. Jordan was pleased to see him showing some steel. “When the Mother woke she slaughtered three hundred Mohn personnel in a matter of minutes. Jordan was one of the first casualties. He rose from the dead just like we did. He’s one of us now, for better or worse. The fact is he’s been invaluable. His military expertise has saved our asses more than once and it’s very much needed if we’re going to stop the thing we’re chasing.”