No Mere Zombie: Deathless Book 2

by Chris Fox

  “She’s right,” Steve whispered, appearing in a crouch next to Bridget. “We have to get out of here, Blair. We can’t help them, only die ourselves. If we’re lucky they’ll take care of Irakesh, but if we want to live we move. Now.”

  “Fine,” Blair growled, anger surging through him. There weren’t any other options, but he hated having to run. Again. “We’ll fall back through that rent. Bridget, stick to the shadows and meet us outside.”

  He blurred without waiting for an answer, following the shadowed wall of the hangar until he reached the hole left by the massive machine Mohn had brought. Two suits of power armor guarded it, but the hole was a good twelve feet high. He leapt, twisting in midair even as the pair spun to face him.

  Steve barreled into the back of the suit on the right, seizing the helmet in both hands and twisting with incredible strength. The armor’s arms shot up to stop him, but too late. Steve’s furred muscles tensed, and the armored helmet twisted. The man’s neck and skull were crushed, sending the armor toppling to the ground.

  Bridget materialized in midair above the second armored suit, landing heavily on its back and driving it into the pavement with incredible force. She brought both fists down onto its shoulders, crushing the armor-like tinfoil. It was truly terrifying to witness, reminding him of just how much stronger females were. At least she was on his side.

  Something whined from behind him and to the right. Blair spun to see the aircraft Mohn had no doubt arrived in. It was twin to the cargo plane Irakesh planned to steal, save that it bore a pair of massive mini guns under each wing. Those guns had begun to spin, and were aimed in his direction.

  Blair blurred, rolling away as rounds streaked around him. Some bit into the pavement, others into the wall of the hangar. Only his speed saved him, as he flipped backwards away from the deadly weapons. The plane began to track his movements, but too slowly to keep up.

  “Circle the building,” he roared, already sprinting around the right of the domed building. Bridget and Steve followed, and within moments their retreat was mercifully obscured by the building. He dropped into a crouch, chest heaving as he caught his breath. Steve blurred into place next to him.

  “What now?” he asked, glancing at Bridget as she loped to a stop near them.

  “We-,” Blair began, trailing off at the sight before him. “It can’t be.”

  A second plane taxied onto the runway, the same one he knew to still be inside the hangar. It moved through the still-closed doors, which rippled around it as if they were water. The plane picked up speed, already moving away from them. He could see Trevor’s form in the cockpit, his shock of orange hair unmistakable.

  “It can and is,” Steve answered, rising to his feet and taking a step towards the plane. “You said that deathless could manipulate light, that they used illusions. Irakesh fooled us all.”

  “That means Mohn isn’t aware they’ve leaving,” Bridget said, resting a furry hand on Blair’s shoulder. “We’re the only ones who can stop them, and we have to do it now.”

  “What about Liz?” Blair asked, aware of the quaver in his voice. The high whine of jet engines and the stench of gasoline hung thick around him. He knew the answer, but someone else had to give it voice.

  “There isn’t any choice, Blair,” Bridget said, gathering him into a furry hug. He was a child enveloped by a parent. “We have to let her go. Maybe they won’t kill her. Maybe…”

  “If we’re going to do something, we do it now or not at all,” Steve interrupted, grabbing Blair’s shoulder and yanking him from Bridget’s embrace. “You said you came here to stop Irakesh. You know what’s at stake. Would Liz want you to give that monster a nuclear weapon? Control of the Ark you said lies somewhere north? Because if you go back for her you’ve handing him victory. Can you live with that?”

  Blair met Steve’s gaze, the same dispassionate gaze he’d known for almost a decade nested in that wolfish visage. The same visage he wore. He was a warrior now, a champion. Steve was right. If he didn’t stop Irakesh, no one would.

  “Bridget, see if you can catch the rear of the plane. Steve and I will blur to the front and punch through the cockpit. If we shatter that glass, they won’t be able to take off,” he said, voice firming even as he started towards the plane.

  It had reached the main runway and was accelerating. Act. Don’t think. He blurred forward without waiting for an answer, streaking across the tarmac.

  His fur whipped around him as he closed the gap to the cargo plane, or bomber or whatever it was. The plane accelerated, the space between it and the end of the runway quickly shrinking. How long until it was airborne and he could no longer reach it? He risked a glance behind him. Bridget loped along the runway, barely matching the plane’s pace. There was no way she’d catch it time. Steve was closer, a midnight streak several meters behind Blair.

  He turned back to the plane, redoubling his speed. Even blurring, it was a near thing. The plane’s front wheel had already left the ground when he leapt, grabbing the back of the right wing. The roar of the engine was both powerful and deafening, its pull threatening to yank him inside. He dug his claws into the clean chrome wing, vaulting atop it. Blair slipped, tumbling backwards towards the inexorable pull of the engine.

  Then Steve was there, seizing his shoulder and heaving him towards the main body of the plane. Blair seized the edge of the wing, steadying himself as the plane left the ground and took the air. Now what? Steve was yelling something, but it was lost in the roar of the engines. He had to bring the plane down, even if it cost his life.

  The plane abruptly titled, the wing dropping suddenly. Blair’s grip held, but he saw Steve tumble off. His midnight form tumbled towards the trees below, dropping nearly a hundred feet into the unbroken canopy. Fuck. Hopefully Steve had survived, but whether he did or not Blair had a job to do.

  He stared at the cockpit, a few dozen feet ahead. How could he reach it?

  Blur. If you hurl yourself with all your strength you can reach it, Ka-Dun.

  The beast was right. It was his only chance. Blair gathered his legs, focusing his energy. Then he blurred, pouring more into the power than he ever had before. He leapt, somehow moving faster than the plane. His body hurled through the air, as close to true flight as he’d ever know. His claws caught the lip of the cockpit, the point where glass and metal met. He found purchase, somehow clinging to the metal despite the insistent tugging of the wind.

  He could see into the cockpit, see Trevor just two feet away. His friend looked the same, until he turned and met Blair’s gaze. Trevor’s eyes were the same putrid green as Irakesh’s. His mouth opened in shock, exposing jagged rows of fangs used to rend flesh. Blair couldn’t bring the plane down, but Trevor could.

  Blair plunged into Trevor’s mind, forcing his way past the deathless’s defenses.

  Chapter 44- Mountain Camp

  “Where are we?” Blair asked, turning in a slow circle. Thick flakes of snow obscured the looming pines surrounding the spacious cabin. He and Trevor stood on the back deck, fenced on two sides with a path leading up the hillside behind them.

  Trevor turned to face him, but didn’t immediately answer. His eyes were normal, the same hazel he’d gotten to know during their mad flight from San Diego back to the Ark in Peru. His teeth were mercifully normal. There was nothing to reflect the monster he’d become. Even his coat was a battered mess, warm and worn from years of faithful service. This was Trevor, not the monster he’d just seen. Or so it appeared, at least. Irakesh had already proven how deathless could alter appearances.

  “Mountain Camp,” Trevor said, crunching through thick snow to the railing near a large silver grill. He picked up the tongs dangling from the side, cocking his head to the side as he studied them. “It’s the nickname one of Liz’s friends gave the place. She grew up rich down in Monterrey and this place seemed so rustic to her. To us it was just home. We grew up here, in Tuolumne. You ever been to Yosemite?”

  Blair glanced dow
n at himself. He wore the same dark brown coat he’d worn to class every night, complete with the black stain on the right sleeve from his mishap with some soy sauce. It was glaringly normal, just like everything else around them.

  “Yeah, I’ve been. I only live a few hours away, a little north of San Francisco. I’ve never heard of Tuolumne though,” he replied, taking a cautious step towards the railing near the grill. Blair swept off an armful of snow, settling against the perch he’d created.

  “We’re about an hour north of Yosemite. Up in the foothills. Gold country once upon a time,” Trevor explained. He replaced the tongs, turning to study the house. They stood outside an office, dusty old computer on a makeshift table that had been converted to a desk. A buffalo hide hung against one wall. The others held a variety of notes and pictures that must have accumulated over years. A sliding glass door led onto the deck where they stood. “It’s so odd seeing it empty. My mom and dad still live up here. It’s never this quiet. They’ve always had dogs, sometimes a cat or two. That’s missing, like the world is empty somehow. Maybe this is the best you can conjure up with whatever it is you’re doing to me. I’m curious to see just how detailed this fantasy is.”

  Trevor crossed the deck to the sliding glass door, tugging it open and stepping inside. He removed his boots, gesturing for Blair to follow. Then he turned and exited through a door on the far side of the office, entering a wide linoleum hallway. It was flanked by a bathroom on one side and a faded brown door on the other. Trevor stopped in front of it, clearly waiting. Blair hesitated only a moment before entering the office. He slid the door closed behind him, crossing the worn carpet and joining Trevor in the hallway. A light from the far end illuminated Trevor’s face. It looked like it came from a kitchen.

  “This is Liz’s room. I wonder, do you consciously know what it looks like? Or would you have to enter it to have my mind reveal the memory to you?” Trevor asked, resting a hand on the door knob. Something burned in Blair’s throat, a palpable reaction to the vivid reminder of the friend he’d lost.

  “Trevor, we need to talk,” Blair said, crossing his arms to ward the cold. He could see his breath now. Had that happened outside as well?

  “About what I’ve become,” Trevor said, giving a quick nod. He opened the door and stepped into the bedroom. “About why I’m with Irakesh. Why I’m working with your enemy and may have to kill you.”

  Blair followed him in, taking a moment to study the place where Liz had grown up. A queen-sized bed under a plain white comforter dominated the corner, with a plain oak dresser that had been recently varnished standing next to it. A small lamp and a dog-eared copy of a book entitled Ishmael sat on the table. He glanced up, noting an array of florescent stars dotting the ceiling. Each sticker was placed into familiar constellations. Orion’s belt. The big dipper. Others he didn’t know. The walls were covered in huge maps, mostly of South America and Australia. There were pins in Costa Rica, Belize, Peru and a few other countries.

  “She’d kill you if she knew you were in here,” Trevor said, delivering one of those boyish grins that they’d shared just before the world had gone to shit. “I think she really likes you, which is odd. She has a thing for tall dark men from exotic places. Did you know that’s why she was in Peru in the first place? She was running from the last guy, Ernesto. She does that you know. Runs, sometimes.”

  “Trevor, we don’t have long,” Blair said, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed. It creaked under his weight. He glanced around the room again, crinkling his nose at the musty smell. That door must not be opened very often. “I know it has to be hard to face everything that’s happened, the horrors you must have endured. But I need you to. I need you to tell me what Irakesh is planning.”

  “That’s not why you invaded my mind,” Trevor said, crossing his arms and plopping into an old chair in the corner. A hint of neon green entered his gaze. “You want me to crash the plane, to stop Irakesh.”

  “How did you know?” Blair asked, conscious of the surprise he’d just betrayed. Could deathless read minds, too?

  “It’s all over your face. Besides, that’s what I’d do in your place,” Trevor explained, giving a slight shrug. He ran his fingers through his goatee, the gesture an instinctual habit Blair remembered well. “I would if I could, Blair. I’d do it in a second, kill us all to stop Irakesh. I don’t know exactly what he’s planning, but I can tell you it isn’t good. He’s ruthless and driven, the worst combination. He has powers I can’t even begin to comprehend and trust me when I say I don’t want to live in a world he has control over. I’m not even sure he’s the biggest risk. You remember Cyntia? She’s been corrupted. Irakesh has had her feed on everything. Humans. Zombies. Even another werewolf. The virus has mutated and it’s made her powerful, but unstable. She hates Liz, you know. She’ll kill her if she gets the chance.”

  “If you know all that why are you working with Irakesh? Trevor, this isn’t you. I know you’ve changed. Hell, I know that better than anyone,” Blair said, leaning forward. He studied his friend intently, searching for signs of the man he used to be. “The virus changed me in ways I still don’t understand. You must have undergone something similar, but whatever happened you can fight it. The fact that we’re talking is proof that you’re still you.”

  “You don’t understand the problem,” Trevor said, removing his glasses and cleaning them with his shirt. He avoided looking at Blair. “The deathless aren’t like werewolves. Werewolves are independent, but deathless can impose their will on those weaker than them. That’s how Irakesh can control a horde of zombies. It’s how he’s forcing me to help him. He can use me like a puppet and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. Trust me Blair, I’ve tried to resist. Do you think I want to help him steal a nuke? Help him kill you and Liz? I’ve tried to fight, but there’s this thing inside of me. It’s like the beast you described, but Irakesh calls it a Risen.”

  “If it’s like the beast, then you can fight it,” Blair suggested. Cautiously. He stood up, crossing to the window and staring outside. Snow continued to fall, blanketing a steep driveway that disappeared into the trees down the hill. “It took both Liz and I a while to get control. You must be able to do the same thing. Fight it, Trevor. The world could be riding on your shoulders right now. You’re the only one who can stop Irakesh.”

  “Then the world is doomed,” Trevor said. Blair turned to face him, jaw dropping at the sudden transformation.

  Trevor’s eyes were the bright green of toxic waste, twin to Irakesh’s. The jagged teeth were back. He was very much the deathless now, though his voice was the same. Still, there was a sadness to his gaze, a hint of the man who had once existed. Then he lunged, blurring towards Blair with a speed nearly as great as his own. Blair toppled backwards onto the bed, rolling away from Trevor even as claws raked the comforter in the spot he’d just occupied.

  Blair released his friend’s mind, suddenly landing back in his own. The wind howled around him, and his arms ached from the effort of maintaining his grip on the edge of the cockpit. Trevor stared out at him, a pilot’s headset covering his ears. His gaze bore the same sadness as he raised a hand. Then sickly green light burst from his palm, washing over Blair in the familiar agony he’d felt when Irakesh had paralyzed him back in the Ark.

  The wind ripped him away from the cockpit, sending him tumbling through the air towards the jungle’s thick canopy hundreds of feet below.

  Chapter 45- Present For The Mother

  Yukon trotted down the dock, largely ignored by the Mother’s new pack. They moved a variety of strange-smelling boxes and loud guns onto the very large boat where the Mother waited. Yukon knew he should be at her side, but she’d been preparing the boat for days and it was dreadfully boring just standing there.

  He hadn’t gone far, of course. The memory of the strange not-deads was still large and frightening. They’d tried to eat him, would have eaten him if the Mother hadn’t saved him. She protected him, just as he protecte
d her in his own small way. She kept him alive and he went places that she could not, watched her growing pack to make sure none of them were dangerous. He guarded the door while she used the poop-stealing water chair, always watching. You could never be sure. Even if they smelled right humans could sometimes surprise you in a nasty way.

  Yukon ducked between a pair of men hefting a wide wooden crate that looked heavy. He couldn’t smell any food, but he recognized the odd tangy scent of cans. Tasty things came in cans. He hurried past them, up a long walkway that led to the railing circling the huge boat. A cargo ship, Rodrigo had called it. He was the Mother’s new beta, a pleasant enough man who liked to scratch behind Yukon’s ears as though he were some mangy cat. Yukon tolerated it of course, because he knew it was meant as a friendly gesture.

  “Ugg, wet dog,” one of the men said, crinkling his nose as Yukon slipped past. Yukon ignored him, though he knew the comment was meant as an insult. Was it his fault the rain continued to fall for the third straight day? Besides, he didn’t smell nearly so bad as that man had. He reeked of beer and sweat, with something less pleasant lurking underneath. Yukon didn’t even want to know what the last part was.

  He trotted up to the railing, pausing for a thorough shake to remove most of the rain, once he was under the shelter of the boat’s lowest level. It was covered by the floor above, which was covered by the floor above. It continued like that all the way to the top, which was a long flat surface now covered in stacks of big metal crates. Yukon had enjoyed running between them for a while, but it had grown boring with no one to play with.

  Yukon adjusted his grip on the purple dodo, an amusing little stuffed animal he’d found near the dock. The Mother was very tense and he hoped the present might make her smile, something he’d very rarely seen since she’d saved him. How long ago had that been? He didn’t know. He wanted to understand the human concept of time, but it was lost on him. It was day, or it was night. What did yesterday matter? It was gone and it wouldn’t come back. Tomorrow would get here soon enough. Why worry about it?