“As I also explained,” Sneferu continued, “Until you received a mortal blow – such as the one you received this morning – the full effect would not take place. You’ll find that from now on, the falling sickness is no longer a concern for you.”
“Who knows?” Caesar asked.
“No one,” Sneferu replied, “As yet. I can send for Marc Antony or Cleopatra, if you wish.”
“No,” Caesar said, “They must believe I’m dead… even Cleopatra.”
Sneferu nodded, although he didn’t quite understand.
“What are you doing here?” Caesar asked.
“I’ve been in Rome as long as you have, my son,” Sneferu said, “although brother is more appropriate now. Yet I’m so much older… anyway, I’ve been keeping an eye on you and the Queen. Often, it’s important to conceal the transformation until either it can be established that the supposed ‘death blow’ was nothing of the kind, or until the newly converted can be spirited away.”
“Sensible,” Caesar replied. He found that he had the strength to sit up, and did so, “I’m wickedly thirsty.”
Sneferu chuckled, “Interesting choice of words. Here.”
He handed Caesar a metal flask with the stopper removed. Caesar sniffed at the contents, thinking it might be wine, which he didn’t much care for. However, being the experienced soldier he was, the coppery smell of human blood was instantly recognizable.
Caesar recoiled and pushed the flask toward Sneferu, “Blood? What is the meaning—“
“You have not forgotten,” Sneferu said, pushing the flask back toward the Roman, “What I said about the blood being the key to immortal life. It’s not that we must drink it always… but in times when great healing is required or to replenish our strength, only living blood can fuel the magic inside you. Drink.”
Caesar heaved a sigh and tipped the flask to his lips. He braced himself to try and control the gagging that must come… and yet, as the first few warm drops passed his lips… he found the taste intoxicating. He suddenly craved the blood and began greedily swallowing delicious gulps of the warm thick fluid.
Sneferu laughed, “It’s the same for all of us. Surprising how intense the desire is once you realize you have it.”
“Who…”
“It’s donated by some of my followers,” Sneferu said gently, “No one died to deliver you this healing brew.”
Caesar felt as if his body had been energized with vitality. He got to his feet and found that moving about was easy and painless. He moved to one side of the room and caught his reflection in a mirror.
“By Jove!” He exclaimed, reaching up to touch his face. Caesar had always been youthful, even in his mid-fifties… yet the strong thirtyish man that looked back at him was astonishing.
“Welcome, mighty Caesar,” Sneferu said from his side, “To immortality.”
“What now?” Caesar asked.
“Well,” Sneferu said, “That’s up to you. However, if you want your… resurrection to stay a secret, I recommend that you return to the Motherland of Egypt with me. There is much to learn. Until you’re ready to re-enter the world.”
“And then?”
Sneferu smiled, “And then, Caesar… the world is truly yours for the taking.”
Philippi, Greece – 42 BCE
“You’ve won, Antony,” Brutus spat, throwing his sword to the ground.
Beside him, Cassius stood stock still, his gladius dangling loosely from his hand. He was stunned by the ruin that had come so quickly at the hands of Octavian and Marc Antony.
“Yes,” Octavian said with a grin, “We have won, you sons of bitches. Murderers of my father.”
The two men regarded the thin youth standing at Antony’s side. An interesting contrast of a strong and battle hardened soldier against the pale and even sickly looking youth. Although they weren’t deceived. There was a fire blazing in the young man’s eyes that reminded them of his adopted father.
“You must pay for your crime,” Antony said coldly.
“Crime?” Brutus said, “Is it a crime to free one’s people from tyranny?”
Antony laughed, “You murdered Caesar from your own perceived personal hurts. Because you’re plain, stupid and unpopular. You’re nothing but a jealous fool who has come to a fool’s end.”
“I thought you would forget that incident,” Cassius said a little more calmly.
“And we would have,” Octavian replied, “Had you not tried to seize control of Rome for yourselves. You’re pathetic. Let’s be done with them, Marcus.”
“No,” Antony said thoughtfully, “Let’s put them in a cell for now until we can figure out how to use this to our best advantage. Simply killing them isn’t enough. The people want retribution and their execution must be public and in the city itself.”
Octavian nodded, “Agreed.”
The cell was hardly worthy of two such noble Romans. Plain, dank and with only a pair of cots, it was seemingly the last insult to the injury of the two “liberators’” defeat.
“Did you think it would come to this?” Cassius asked Brutus after a long period of silence following the exit of the guard.
“No,” Brutus said, “But then even the most precise horoscope can’t know everything.”
“What was it Caesar said to you that morning?” Cassius asked, “You too, my child?”
Brutus nodded gravely, “A reproach… and you know something, Gaius… it hurt. It still hurts. There’s a part of me that will always feel for Caesar… but we did the right thing.”
Cassius sighed, “Did we? I was never totally sure. But there’s no point to arguing it now. Perhaps it’s justice. If Julius Caesar had to die to liberate Rome… then perhaps it’s fitting that we pay the ultimate price as well. Share and share alike.”
“A very progressive sentiment, Cassius,” A strong voice said from the vicinity of the door, “I would have thought it beyond you.”
Brutus’ blood ran cold and he turned. There was a tall, broad shouldered figure standing beyond the bars of the cell door, barely illuminated by the flicker of a distant torch.
Something about that voice… something in the bearing…
Apparently Cassius felt it too, because he asked shakily, “Who… who are you?”
The figure disappeared for a second and reappeared carrying a torch. The light flickered clearly on the unmistakable face of Gaius Julius Caesar.
And yet… somehow a younger version of the man they’d helped to murder.
“How…” Brutus croaked, “Are you… are you a spirit?”
“I am not,” Caesar said, unlocking the door and swinging it open, “I’m here, in the flesh, Brutus. Perhaps now that the odds are more even, you’d like to try again?”
“How?” Cassius asked softly and with no small amount of reverence, “My gods… you truly are divine…”
“How am I alive after twenty-three stab wounds from some of my friends?” Caesar asked, “A long story, Cassius. Yet I haven’t come to tell tales.”
“Revenge?” Brutus asked.
“In a sense,” Caesar said, “I wanted you to know how utterly you’ve failed, Brutus. How all of your scheming and treachery was for nothing. That’s what you’ll take to your grave.
“So now you kill us?” Cassius asked.
Caesar smiled, “No, Cassius. I won’t sink to your level. However, if you have any interest in keeping what slivers may remain of your family honor, I give you the choice.”
Caesar handed him a dagger. Cassius took it with shaking hands and looked into Caesar’s eyes.
“It’s your choice,” Caesar said, “You can take your lives honorably or be publicly humiliated and executed before all of Rome. I wonder which path you’ll take. It’s hard to say which is the more cowardly.”
Caesar turned his back on Cassius and walked out. He never feared that the other Roman would plunge the knife into him. Even if Cassius had been so foolish, it would have made no difference.
When Octavian a
nd Antony arrived in the morning to speak with the two captives, they were quite surprised to find that they’d both opened a vein in their wrists and had bled to death sometime during the night.
No one could be found who had any explanation how a dagger had made its way into their hands after several thorough searches.
Alexandria, Egypt – August of 30 BCE
“He’s in the city,” Selena said as she laid the basket down in front of Cleopatra.
“And Antony?” Cleopatra asked, eyeing the basket and what she knew was within.
“Dead,” The slave girl said with large sad eyes, “He felt so overwhelmed… he fell on his sword.”
Cleopatra sighed. She’d loved Antony, to be sure, but it was different than the love she had for Caesar.
With Caesar, her love for him started with admiration and even awe at his intelligence, strength and cleverness. She loved him passionately as one who loves another who pulls you higher.
With Antony, the balance was perhaps the other way around. She saw him as a means to an end at first. A man to be controlled and used. She loved him, but Antony, although certainly a brave soldier, didn’t have Caesar’s strength of character and almost super human qualities.
Yet did it matter now? She’d lost them both and now she was about to lose her beloved Egypt to Octavian… or more accurately Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus as he was calling himself.
A brilliant man yet a poor substitute for his namesake.
“Then it’s time,” Cleopatra said glumly, “I will not be paraded before all of Rome like some Gaelic chieftain.”
Cleopatra slid her left arm into the basket. Something warm and smooth moved within. At first, the creature gently and carefully moved over her hand, as if nuzzling the warm flesh.
A gentle asp, what were the odds?
Cleopatra grabbed the snake and squeezed. As expected, the serpent turned and sunk it’s fangs into her forearm, injecting some of the deadliest poison known into her body. A poison for which there was no antidote.
Cleopatra withdrew her arm and looked at what seemed to be very insignificant punctures. She smiled and looked into the teary eyes of Selena, “It’s all right, Selena. It’s meant to be.”
She began to feel the venom take effect. With admirable quickness, the tomb’s darkness began to settle in on her until it took hold and she felt nothing more…
…she was quite surprised, then to hear voices and feel something soft beneath her body rather than the dusty floor of the stone tomb she thought she’d died in.
Was this afterlife? Waking up in a comfortable bed?
“Lie easy,” A soft but firm voice whispered to her, “You’re a little out of sorts, but soon your senses will return and your head will clear.”
Who was that? That voice… it sounded so familiar…
“You are not dead, Queen Cleopatra,” Another male voice said. This one was also strong and spoke in a more conversational tone, “Your body is fighting the asp’s venom.”
“What…” Cleopatra muttered, “It’s always fatal…”
“Not to an immortal, my love,” the first man whispered again. A warm hand brushed her face.
“She’s not entirely with us yet,” The second man said, “I think the poison from the serpent is acting on her thoughts. It’ll clear momentarily.”
“Where am I?” Cleopatra asked.
“In an apartment in Alexandria,” The gentle but strong voice said, “Lie easy until you can open your eyes. I know this is a bit of a shock.”
“Octavian…”
“Not a concern,” The man with the familiar voice soothed, “He believes you to be dead and your body buried in a secret place.”
Cleopatra didn’t feel any pain. In fact, she felt rather well, considering. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. It took a moment but they soon began to focus.
She was indeed lying in a bed in a small but well decorated Egyptian bedroom. To one side, sitting in a chair near a curtained window was…
“Sneferu!” Cleopatra said in surprise, “What…”
“My child,” Sneferu said, “I’m here to welcome you into the ranks of the immortals.”
“It’s true then?” Cleopatra asked.
“It is,” The other voice said, “and you’re not alone.”
She turned her head and saw a handsome young man of about thirty smiling at her. It took a moment for her mind to register what she was looking at. She gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth to hold back the shriek, “Gaius!”
“Easy, easy,” Caesar said, patting her shoulder and smoothing down her hair, “I know it’s a shock. I was pretty surprised myself when I woke up after that morning in the senate.”
“She must drink,” Sneferu reminded him.
Caesar nodded, “Drink this. It’s going to seem strange at first, but just drink it down.”
Cleopatra took the flask in her trembling hands and raised it to her lips. The rich iron scent was odd at first until she realized what it was, “Is this… blood?”
“Yes,” Caesar said, “Your body needs it to heal. I know it seems disgusting… but believe me, you’ll enjoy it.”
Cleopatra hesitated, steeled herself and took a small sip of the thick warm blood. Like Caesar had, she experienced a euphoria when the living fluid passed over her lips. She drank it down quickly, the tingling sensation of power radiating through her body.
“Good,” Caesar said with a smile, “How do you feel?”
“Incredible!” Cleopatra said, “But… Gaius… you were killed… or seemed to be… fourteen years ago. Where have you been? How could you let me think you were dead… and our son…?”
“It’s difficult to explain,” Caesar began.
“It was necessary,” Sneferu added, “things must progress as they should. It’s important that we keep our existence as quiet as possible. Caesar and I have traveled much and he’s learned a great deal. As will you.”
“Learn about what?” Cleopatra asked, “I’ve got to return to my throne and liberate my people.”
“No,” Sneferu said, “Egypt belongs to Rome now. That is as it should be. We, the three of us and others, have much to do and our work is only beginning.”
“What of our son?” Cleopatra asked Caesar, “And Antony’s children?”
“They’ll be all right,” Caesar said, “We’ll see to that. As the ancient Pharaoh says, we have much to learn and to accomplish. And we’ll do it together.”
Cleopatra thought about the centuries and even millennia in front of them. What wonders would they see? What changes would they be a part of?
Only time would tell. And now, thanks to Sneferu, they had all the time in the world.
Chapter 18
Andrea’s diary – 12/4/2019
Tony and Andy dropped us off at nearly the same spot we’d come ashore on the day before. We waved to them and watched for a moment as our friend and my son motored back to the yachts anchored nearby.
It was a strange feeling, standing in this spot. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. There were corpses lying in and among the stalled vehicles where we’d taken them out yesterday. Even the bicycles we’d brought over were waiting patiently on their kickstands.
“Fucking creepy,” Carl said.
“Yeah, no shit,” I replied. Always good with witty commentary.
Sam just stood and looked around. I could tell he was listening, smelling the air and even trying to sense something in it. He finally sighed and turned to the bikes.
“Guess this is our best bet for now,” He said, picking one out, “We just have to take the Gandy to Dale Mabry and turn right and we’re there. Not more than a couple of miles at most.”
Carl snorted, “Oh yeah, just a couple of miles through zombie infested territory. Piece of cake.”
I chuckled but stopped when I saw Sam’s face. It was set hard and he didn’t look amused. That was odd. Sam was always pretty easy with a joke or to join in with the sarcasm.
But something was different and had been since we climbed up the rocks.
“You’re free to go back to the boats,” Sam said flatly as he pushed his bike’s kickstand into its horizontal position.
Carl seemed kind of deflated, “No, I was just kidding…”
“Well let’s leave the jokes for after this goat fuck is over,” Sam said, “Mount up and let’s move. Andrea you take point and I’ll take up the rear.”
I’m not sure what was up, but Sam’s serious mood kind of fell over us like a blanket or something… a wet blanket for that matter.
Yeah, I know this was a dangerous situation and we should take it seriously, like a military operation… but it was more than that.
And besides, you always joked around on a mission. You made light of the scenario, you mocked your CO within reason and you always singled at least one guy out to be the butt of all the small dick jokes. It was a way to ease tension and even build unit cohesion.
Thankfully the ride to MacDill went easily. We made it there in less than forty-five minutes, in fact. Although once we arrived, I could almost wish we weren’t able to reach the base. It was trashed.
“Jesus Christ,” Carl breathed as we sat on our bikes and looked over the complex.
To say the place looked like a war zone wouldn’t be any exaggeration. The fences were all knocked down and dozens of blackened vehicles were strewn over the parking lots and near several of the buildings, which themselves were burnt out as well.
And the bodies…
There were thousands of bodies. You couldn’t tell which were zombies and which had been civilians on base. They were sometimes spread out over the pavements and sometimes stacked up in giant piles, yet the majority were stacked up over my head in huge long walls of corpses, blocking several key administration buildings, barracks and other facilities.
Where we could find our way through the rotting sun-bloated piles of death… and let me tell you, that being outside and in the open didn’t make the smell any easier to take… we could see how it had happened.
All along the inside of the walls of what had to be zombies, somebody had arranged pickets of soldiers and vehicles including Humvees with fifty caliber machine guns mounted, duce and ahalf trucks and even several tanks and armored personal carriers. Dead soldiers lay everywhere, often not in one piece and expended brass carpeted acres of tarmac as if it had rained spent shell casings for a week straight.
World of Corpses (Book 1): World of Corpses Page 22
