The Living Dead (Book 1): Contagion

by L. I. Albemont

  Chapter 21

  So times were pleasant for the people there until finally one, a fiend out of hell, began to work his evil in the world.

  Beowulf

  The door framed gaping darkness within. An overturned stone urn partially blocked the doorway, dirt and pansies trampled on the steps. Blood rushed to her head and pounded in her ears. She turned around, looking at Ian and Charles in mute appeal, wanting someone to tell her everything was ok and she saw them, the rest of the dead platoon, shambling out from the woodland. The zombie at the head of the pack stumped forward on legs that were little more than sinew and bone, skin flapping around the enormous hole where his stomach used to be. Still unable to speak, she pointed. Daniel looked and screamed then ran into her arms, knocking her down. Charles and Ian ran, scooping up her and Daniel and slamming the front door. Scratching and pounding, the frustrated dead massed against the doors and windows.

  Virginia moved from room to room, searching frenziedly. The closed blinds and curtains made the house dark and dismal. She found no one. There were no signs of violence, no bodies, no blood. Upstairs she went into ‘their’ room and sank to the floor between the twin beds. Bright checkered curtains filtered the sunlight from the windows, making the room blue and shadowy. She took the pillows from the unmade beds in her arms, holding them tight and closing her eyes. Despair deeper than she had ever experienced washed over her. What now?

  A small object, round and hard, fell out of a pillowcase and rolled under the bed. She groped for it and pulled out an eyeball. She flinched and dropped it then picked it up again. A glass eyeball. Turning it over in her hand, she remembered. Miss Alice’s eye. The one Anna lost the first night she was here. Virginia looked around the room for Miss Alice but the doll wasn’t anywhere. Neither were their sleep away backpacks. She put the eye in her pocket and went downstairs.

  Charles sat on the sofa, trying to rewind her improvised sling back around his neck and shoulder. It had come undone in their long walk and mad dash for the door. He looked up.

  “Anything?”

  “I think they left on their own. Something must have happened that made Carolyn decide it was safer to get out.” She swallowed her fear and disappointment and took the ends of the sling. “Just hold still and let me do it. We should probably check the bandage later too. How does that feel?” She reached behind his neck to tie the ends together just as Ian, along with Daniel, came back into the room. She caught a bright flare of anger on his face, quickly suppressed.

  “Better.” Charles lay back and closed his eyes.

  “The old Land Rover is gone. Something happened that made Mom feel it was safer to bug out than stay here. I‘m sorry Virginia, you were right. I should never have left them”

  “No you shouldn’t have. Miss Alice and both their backpacks are gone so yes, Carolyn probably took them somewhere she thought would be safer. But where and why no note? And why was the door open?”

  “They may have forgotten to lock it and an infected pressed against the latch. That might explain the broken flower pot too.”

  The assault from without continued. Fortunately, the elevation of the house set the windows above ground level and the doors were solid maple. The incessant moaning seemed to be coming from everywhere. It gave her chills.

  “Ian, would it be ok if we looked for something to eat? The last week or so has been lean on meals.” Charles had already started toward the kitchen.

  “You’re welcome to whatever you find. Mom wouldn’t have been able to take it all with them.”

  Carolyn’s kitchen was state of the art and comfortable. Virginia used to love to come here and spend time with her mother-in-law while copper pots simmered and delicious smells wafted around the white cupboards and old marble countertops. She found Charles and Daniel devouring cold, canned ham and crackers, washing it down with tea. The breakfast nook window framed the last dying light of the day. They were up high enough that they couldn’t see the roving, infected guardsmen.

  “Can we get up on the roof and take them out from there? We’ve more than enough ammo.” She wrapped her arms around herself and couldn’t stop shivering. Now that they were inside and not moving around much, the cold seeped into her bones.

  “That roof looks steep and still has icy spots Virginia. We don‘t want to get up there tonight.”

  “I’m not suggesting getting up there tonight. I’m just trying to plan ahead for in the morning. Yes, I am a little worried they might get in but we don’t have much control over that at the moment.” The kitchen grew darker. The daylight was gone. “Let me see if I can find some oil lamps or candles.”

  “Already done.” Ian entered the kitchen carrying two lit lamps. “There’s one in each bedroom too. Where did you find that ham?”

  “In the cupboard.”

  They all sat around the little table and ate. The oil lamps cast a warm glow and, if they ignored the blows on the house, it seemed almost like a normal winter evening. Ian brought them up to date with what he knew of how the rest of the world was coping.

  “Like I said before, Haiti is severely depopulated and contaminated. Everyone figures Cuba is a goner too because no one had heard from Gitmo in several days. We think most of the local Caribbean islands are little more than toxic body dumps by now.”

  “What about Europe? Does anyone know what‘s happening there?”

  “They’re fighting for survival just like we are. Parts of the Middle East and Africa are finished. They’re sacrificing children and women to what they consider demons. Turning on the most helpless members of your society like that…they won‘t be able to repopulate when this is over.”

  “We heard that gangs are taking over cities.“

  “That is probably true. Time will tell how long they hold them. Right before I left there was info indicating that China had re-routed several of their troop transport ships to California. When I left we were still trying to find out what they planned to do once they got there. This is still our country though; we may be down but we’re not out of the game yet.”

  They sat in silence while Virginia gently folded Greg’s blanket and placed it in the backpack. Bill’s documents rustled and she placed the envelope on the table.

  “Are these the docs you sent me?” Ian picked the packet up.

  “Yes, they’re Bill’s originals. I haven’t finished reading them yet.”

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  “He wanted you to see them. That’s why I sent them to you. He would’ve been disappointed if you didn’t look at them.”

  Ian rifled through them and then exclaimed “This is what David was talking about! It’s much more detailed than what he had though. Bill was a thorough guy. Listen to this.”

  The following tale, taken from writings of Frey Segun de Villambra, details the rigors of the journeys of the Catholic friar accompanying Portuguese traders seeking trade routes in Africa in the late 1400‘s. Frey Segun sought to bring Roman Christianity to the region. It should be noted that parts of Africa had been Christian, albeit not the Roman version, since the 1st century after Christ.

  When Christmas fell, I had been with these villagers for many weeks preaching the Good News of the life everlasting. I feel I have made progress with their chief though his subjects continue to express their disappointment with me for refusing (and in their eyes failing) to have my God make the rains come for them.

  Every tribe identifies itself with some animal and this tribe is known as the Batlapi or ‘they of the fish‘. If one wants to know the name of a particular tribe one asks not the name but rather ‘What do you dance?‘ and indeed each tribe has their own dance that exemplifies their mascot. Thus far I have visited with the ’Bakatla’ or the people of the monkey and the ‘Bakuena’’, the people of the alligator. My hosts spoke of other tribes they came into contact with from time to time and it is thus that I first heard of the Aidophedo tribe, the people of the snake. This people live deep in the interior of the jungle and ha
ve little contact with other tribes. Indeed, I gather they are disliked and shunned and I became determined to find and treat with them.

  At this time of year, enervating heat sets in by noon. I set out early with a small party of traders whose intended route would take them near the region of the Aidophedo. The nearby river Niger offers the fastest course though there is danger of unpleasant encounters with both the hippo and crocodile. The boats we embarked in seemed undermanned and I suspect this is deliberate so that if one boat is lost there is room for survivors in the others. However, for my part of the journey, while we saw several crocodiles sunning themselves on the mud banks, we had no dangerous dealings with them or hippos.

  Three days of swift currents bore us to the village of the Ambonda. Built on a long, rocky slope leading down to the river, it is a clean and handsome town with clearly marked streets built on varying levels of exposed rock strata. The Ambonda are a tall people who knock out the front teeth, top and bottom, as symbols of status or marks of beauty. My trading companions were well received, as was I until they were told of my destination. The holy man or okomfu advised me to not risk the death or enchantment he was sure would befall me if I continued on. When I told him that my God would protect me and indeed was with me at all times, he demanded I show Him to the village and was scornful when I explained that my God is Most High and can only be seen when He wishes to be seen. He proudly led me to a shrine and showed me his god, an orb of black stone that can be seen anytime he wishes and he advised me to acquire such a god, as it is more practical than the unreliable one I appear to have. Thanking him for his advice, I resolved to spend time with this tribe on my return from the Aidophedo.

  The Ambonda escorted me a goodly way into the forest before sorrowfully bidding me goodbye. They were convinced I would never leave the Aidophedo village alive.

  Five hours walk brought me to the small stream that marks the northern boundary of the Aidophedo domain. This stream flows into a noisome swamp that forms the southern portion of their lands. Human skulls in varying stages of decay adorned a large black wattle tree leaning over the water. An intimidating boundary marker for a people who must want to be left alone. I knelt to pray for courage and wisdom to touch the hearts of the Aidophedo.

  An hour or so of slashing through undergrowth and I found myself outside their humble village. Naked children stared at me open mouthed. These children showed signs of disease and deformity on a scale I had not encountered elsewhere in Africa. Tiny heads with close set eyes and withered limbs were just some of the afflictions on display. An elderly woman came out of a rude mud hut and shooed the children away before hobbling toward me.

  She limped badly and the left side of her mouth drooped. Poking me with a stick, she seemed surprised to find me solid then turned and entered the largest house in view. Within minutes an old man burst forth and strode toward me angrily, shaking a staff from which hung dried, coiling snake skins making a sibilant rustling. I recognized some of the words in his shouted inquiry and mildly replied that I was an okomfu from across many waters and had traveled far to meet with him and learn of his people and share the news of my God with them. He contemptuously replied that he is the okomfu of his people and they need no other god but their own. I judged it best to bide my time for now and merely asked for shelter for the night. This was granted.

  Evening approached and the deserted air of the village puzzled me. I was about to inquire of mine host concerning this when a party of warriors emerged from the surrounding jungle bearing several small deer-like kills along with three large chimpanzee, skinned and ready for the fire. I must say they were a disturbing sight and I did not partake of this simian delicacy during the communal meal that followed.

  These young men were by far the healthiest seeming of the Aidophedo. Even so, several of them evidenced deformities of the spine and lower limbs and some had split upper palates. Having deposited their game with the women they proceeded to recline in the shade and loll about resting. They regarded me with some curiosity and I took the opportunity to introduce myself and explain I wished to speak to them concerning the Most High God, Jesu Christ. At the mention of that most holy name, one of their number quickly sat upright and made known to me he had heard of my God before. It seems this young man, Dia, had unsuccessfully courted a young woman from the Bakatla tribe and she knew of Our Saviour and had shared her knowledge with Dia. I was then invited to sit with the warriors and I answered many of their eager questions. My heart warmed by their interest, I felt indeed that I had already made a path into their own hearts. Little did I suspect the trials that would soon follow.

  I was welcomed now by most of the tribesman and had managed to spend several days with them. On the evening of the third day, I recounted the story of the death and marvelous resurrection of my Lord and let it be clear that all who believed and were baptized would live again. That evening, more than half the tribe were baptized and partook of the sacred feast of divine body and blood, arousing much anger in their okomfu. He raged first at me, then turned his wrath upon those baptized. So fierce was his anger that they fled into the surrounding jungle and did not return until the next morning.

  Tragedy now struck a family of my fledgling Christians. During the night spent hiding from the okomfu, Dia, whom I have mentioned before, trod upon a poisonous snake, was bitten and died by noon the following day. His sorrowing parents brought his swollen body to me, requesting that I call upon God to restore him to life at once. Their hopeful faces fell when I gently explained that I could not; Dia would awake to new life at Christ’s return and no man, not even the angels in heaven knew when that hour would come. His mother’s wails pierced my heart.

  Seeing an opportunity to regain his hold on his people, the okomfu stomped over thunderously, kicking dust as he came and grinning fiercely. He told Dia’s parents that he would invoke the god, the snake god of the tribe, and restore Dia to life, showing once and for all whose god was more powerful. To my distress, the couple followed him eagerly a short way from the village into the surrounding jungle. I was shocked to see two gigantic, carved stone haunches, so tall their points of termination were lost in the jungle canopy. Clearly these people live in the ruins of a once, more advanced civilization of mighty builders. Carved snakes twined on and around the giant limbs, somehow looking suppliant and menacing at the same time. An impaled goat, flyblown and stinking, sagged from a carved serpentine pole between the huge, cloven hooves. Dia’s parents gently placed his body on the raised wooden trough before this abominable shrine. The day was overcast yet hot and a scorching wind swept in, stirring up choking clouds of dust. The holy man tore the carved pole from the goat, kicking the rotted flesh out of the way, plunged the sharp base of the stick into Dia’s body then sank to his knees before this horrible tableaux and began a deep, guttural chant.

  The skies darkened throughout the afternoon yet the heat continued to increase. Many of the Aidophedo kept vigil along with Dia’s stricken parents. The okomfu chanted without surcease as sweat poured in rivulets down his body. The villagers (my new Christians!) joined him and the sound grew in volume and intensity.

  The winds now increased; leaves and small twigs blew from the trees, striking us and mingling with the dirt and grit already in the air. A distant cracking and boom, as of gigantic trees falling to the ground, sounded in the dark recesses of the surrounding jungle. The villagers flung themselves face down on the ground, crying out and pulling at their hair. I alone remained upright, struggling against the maelstrom. Trees on the south side of the clearing groaned then snapped off at the base of the trunk and fell to the ground, revealing an avenue of downed trees behind them. The winds stopped and the villagers ceased chanting as well.

  Heralded by a cracking, scraping sound, a massive snakelike creature crawled forth from the torn foliage, leaving a sinuous path at least six feet wide on the ground. Covered in glistening red scales interspersed with obsidian bands, it reached the young man’s body, raised its enorm
ous, oddly flattened head and sank foot long fangs into the boy‘s abdomen. The creature’s red eyes sparked with evil intelligence and I believed (and still believe) that on that sweltering evening I met for the first time in my life with a demon. The okomfu, with his foolish pride and desire to triumph over Jesu, had somehow called up a true imp of Satan.

  The holy man backed away from the monstrous form but began to chant again. He commanded the creature to restore life to his servant Dia and suddenly the previously supine body twitched and jerked around the impaling pole. The snake continued to pump venom into the body and yellow fluid oozed out from the young man’s nostrils, eyes, ears, and mouth. The okomfu caught this liquid in his cupped hands and drank deeply before catching more and offering it to the now kneeling villagers. All drank. The creature withdrew his fangs and slithered back into the jungle.

  Transfixed by horror and grief, I saw Dia’s eyes open. His father pulled the pole from his body and helped his son to his feet, supporting him on the slow walk back to their mud hut. The okomfu leered triumphantly at me. The young man stared vacuously ahead, expressing no interest in his surroundings or family and followed his father docilely, squatting on the ground outside the hut. Flies soon covered him and he made no move to brush them away.

  I stayed with the Aidophedo for three additional days, trying to undo the damage to their newfound faith. For a while Dia was the focus of all interest. Other than making a low moaning he never recovered his powers of speech and his poor body decayed rapidly in the punishing heat. On the morning of the third day, he was gone from his customary spot by the hut. That afternoon his father returned from a jungle errand of which he would not speak. Dia was seen no more.