The 1000 Souls (Book 2): Generation Apocalypse

by Michael Andre McPherson

  Tevy began to pray, starting with Hail Marys. Would he shame himself?

  “Don’t worry,” said Vlad. “Before you die, I’ll make you a ripper and the parasites will fix the damage.”

  “NO!” screamed Tevy. “I’ll never be a ripper. You can’t force me to feed. I’ll starve myself, I’ll kill myself if I get the chance. It won’t be a sin, because I’ll be dead anyway. My body means nothing. Nothing. You can kill my body, but my soul will carry on!”

  “You’re an Ericsian?”

  Tevy thought about Elliot and Kayla, about the three of them being the trinity. It felt so right. They were meant to be together. And Kayla was like Joyce, even though they didn’t look anything alike. And Elliot was so like Jeff, even though one was tall and blond, the other short and red-haired, and their backgrounds, their lives couldn’t be more different.

  “Yes. I’m an Ericsian. I’m the Dormant Hero, just like Bertrand Allan.”

  “Bertrand Allan is dead.”

  A scream from a dark recess disturbed the food court, and Vlad turned in anger. “Stop your feeding, all of you.”

  But there was another scream, and a bloodied body slid across the floor to stop at Vlad’s feet—a ripper’s body.

  A man stepped out from the gloom and stopped under a bare light bulb, blood around his mouth but his clothes still clean.

  Bertrand Allan.

  “Who the hell are you?” asked Vlad. He seemed too shocked for rage.

  “I thought you would recognize me, since you tore me limb from limb.”

  A panicked voice came from the corner. “It’s Bertrand Allan, the Demon. I saw his YouTube videos. It’s him. It’s really him. My God.”

  Vlad looked prepared to argue, but Tevy spoke up first. “It’s him and he’s come for you.”

  “Shoot him.” Vlad gave the order quietly, pointing at Allan.

  A gunman hidden in the dark recess of the food court did open fire, but not at Allan. The first bullet hit Vlad, causing him to spin and drop.

  “I think he’s wearing Kevlar,” shouted Tevy to the invisible sniper.

  Gunfire, the muzzle flashes blinding, erupted from every corner of the room. In the freeze frames, Tevy saw Vlad get hit twice more as he sprinted from the court.

  Bullets struck the wheel around Tevy, but Allan threw himself in front, jerking from at least one bullet hit. Rippers ran after Vlad, desperate to escape the sniper, who now started shooting at any ripper in the room. This gave Allan a chance to turn and slash the bindings on Tevy’s ankles and wrists.

  He slumped like a rag doll, his pins-and-needles arms and legs not responding to commands. Allan tossed him over his shoulder and shouted through the mayhem, “This way!”

  The rippers now fled in all directions, expecting an army in their midst. Instead, Elliot ran through the food court, his M16 firing single shots here and there to keep everyone running. Allan led past the table, scooping up Tevy’s shotgun as they ran. The three of them rushed into a dark room that stank of mold and wet. There were two doors to the entrance, indicating it was once a public toilet. There was no light.

  “Tevy,” whispered Elliot. Outside, rippers shouted instructions and gunfire bursts sought an enemy that now hid. “You okay, dude?”

  “I’m not shot. I think Allan is though.”

  “I’ll be fine, or no better. It’s being repaired as we speak.”

  “Totally weird.” Elliot’s voice held awe. “What do we do now?”

  Silence.

  “Mr. Allan?” asked Elliot again.

  “Oh, Joyce would kill me. I’ve brought us to the Alamo. There’s only this way in. No other way out. She was always better at the big picture.”

  “So we sit tight,” whispered Tevy. “Maybe the rippers think we escaped. If you give me that Winchester I can fight soon. I can feel my legs now.”

  The was a shuffle in the dark, and Tevy felt cold steel pressed into his left hand, and his right hand closed around a familiar wooden pistol grip.

  “It’s the Winchester 1200, just like the one Emile picked out for you,” whispered Allan.

  “It is the one Emile picked out,” whispered Tevy.

  “So we wait and hope they don’t find us?” asked Elliot.

  “Until dawn. Then I’ll help you fight to the surface. After that, you’ll be on your own.”

  “It’s our city,” said Elliot. “We can disappear like magic.”

  But two hours later, everything was changed by the flood.

  Twenty-Nine - Victory

  Tevy felt the chill of the water first. For the last hour, they listened as the rippers returned to the food court, some shouting orders. Radu must have seen their retreat, because he shouted, “I’ll check over here,” and approached their door, whispering, “It’s me. It’s me. Don’t shoot.” He opened the door just enough to shine a flashlight through and say, “Stay here.” Then he left, calling loudly, “Clear.”

  Vlad must have returned, for his voice, with that Californian accent, called instructions and demanded information. Just when everything quieted down, a voice shouted, “There’s a whole army moving up from the south.”

  There were more shouts, but the same voice rose above all. “No, an army I tell you, with tanks and Humvees and everything, not civvie levies.”

  “What’s that about?” whispered Allan, but neither Tevy nor Elliot knew the answer.

  The water was a nuisance at first, just a few inches deep, forcing them to stand. The shouting outside resumed and was quashed by a command from Vlad, allowing one ripper to finish his report. “No, all the tunnels are flooding. That wasn’t a crane by the Mart, it was a drill! They drilled through the river and into the tunnel system. We have to get out.”

  “The tunnels didn’t connect here,” whispered Bertrand. “They’re old. Much older than this building. The rippers must dug some new tunnels to connect.”

  Gunfire, distant and heavy, echoed down from above. A gun battle now raged on the main floor in the tower, only a floor above their heads.

  “It think there’s only about fifty of them,” shouted one ripper from a distance.

  Vlad issued more orders, most of them about meeting this new threat.

  “We have to stop him now, before he crushes this attack,” said Allan. “If he dies now, that’ll be the nail in the coffin. I’m going to rush him.”

  “We’ll cover you,” said Tevy. He couldn’t see Elliot’s expression in the dark. This would probably mean their deaths, so if he wanted to speak against it, this was the moment. Instead, the sound of a fresh mag snapping into the M16 gave Elliot’s answer.

  “We go on three,” whispered Allan. “Get me to Vlad and then get out. Find a staircase up and don’t look back for even a second. Just make sure those troops upstairs don’t shoot you. They’re not expecting humans down here.”

  “Good luck,” whispered Tevy. His heart pounded with excitement. He didn’t want to die, but the chance to kill the nemesis of Chicago was too much to pass up. His death would be a turning point in a major battle.

  “One, two, three.”

  Allan pushed out in the lead. Tevy fanned to his right while Elliot went left, all of them sloshing through ankle-deep water. Tevy held his fire until they had covered half the distance across the food court between their hideout and Vlad. Radu, looking crazed and joyful at the same time, joined their rush, surprising several of his fellow rippers, who didn’t expect gunfire from one of their own.

  A ripper near Tevy turned, his mouth open in surprise to shout while he frantically tried to draw his sidearm. Tevy shot him in the face, splattering blood and brains out the back of the ripper’s head. He pumped the shotgun, turned to the next ripper, and shot him in the chest, dropping him straight down. The M16 fired, and Tevy spared a glance. Elliot stood on a plastic table, aiming one shot after another without regard for his own vulnerable position.

  Tevy knew a moment of fear for his friend, but there was little time for emotion. Besides, he had never
felt so free. No more fear, and it was such a relief. It was all over, and he could shoot and shoot until he died. It was like the video games of his childhood, before the apocalypse. He fired at another ripper, one closer to Vlad and better prepared, for he shot at Tevy, but Radu crossed in front and took the shot. Tevy’s shotgun blast took the enemy ripper in the chest while Radu fell with a splash.

  Allan drew the most fire. Even Vlad now drew a sidearm to shoot. Tevy fired at his face but missed; however, it was enough to throw off Vlad’s aim. Allan, a knife out, closed with him, tackling him into the water. Tevy stopped with his back to the two as they struggled and splashed, turning to shoot out left and right at rippers who now rushed to Vlad’s rescue with guns and knives. The fire of the M-16 proved that Elliot was alive and close, but Tevy couldn’t spare a glance. A bullet brushed his shoulder, another his leg.

  Shouting from across the food court, where the stairs spiraled down from above, caught Tevy’s attention, muzzle flashes tracking the pursuit of rippers from above by an invading army. But the rippers attacking Tevy didn’t notice this threat. Instead, they skidded to a halt, expressions of horror and fear sapping them of the desire to attack. Tevy couldn’t help it. He glanced over his shoulder to see what had stopped the rippers cold.

  Allan stood in between Elliot and Tevy, blood coating his mouth and shirt and jeans, his bloody knife in his right hand. In his left hand he held Vlad’s decapitated head, high.

  “I am Bertrand Allan! The Demon!” he shouted. “I’ve come for you all!”

  The rippers fled, running like rats from a disturbed nest. The panic gave Tevy a chance to shoot, firing at undefended backs. The next danger was the invading army.

  Elliot was way ahead of him. “Friendlies!” he shouted.

  Tevy saw the white headbands of the Ericsians as they rushed in their direction. “The 1000 Live On!” he shouted. “The 1000 Live On!”

  Elliot took up the call, but Allan tossed Vlad’s head to the ground, scooped up Radu’s crumpled body, and ran the other way, deeper into the dark of the concourse.

  Tevy’s knees suddenly betrayed him, giving way and forcing him to kneel in the water, gasping and fighting a tremble he didn’t understand. It took him a few moments to understand that he had never been free of the fear of death. He had only buried it out of necessity, and now it rose up to choke. He gasped for breath, fighting to be strong, to not shame himself. His kept his eyes on the water, the light of a dim bulb haloing his reflection, blood tainting everything with a diffuse pink hue.

  “The 1000 Live On.” This time it was gasp, a prayer.

  “Tevy!”

  Kayla walked toward him cautiously at the head of a squad, her Uzi aimed at his chest.

  “I’m alive,” he whispered. “I’m alive. I was saved by Bertrand Allan. He really is a saint.”

  Kayla knelt in the blood and water before him, her own shirt stained red, a fresh cut on her forehead. She stank of sweat and gunpowder and blood. Tevy embraced her and kissed her lips.

  “As far as I’m concerned, we’re married,” he said.

  “We’re married.” Kayla kissed him deeply.

  He vowed never to let her go.

  Thirty - Loose Lips

  Tevy would always remember the next few hours as the best of his life, a short time when he believed good could conquer evil and a better world would rise out of the ashes of the world of his childhood.

  They watched from high in the Willis tower, at least ten floors up, as troops swept along the streets, following Bradleys and the wheeled Strikers. Their organization and professionalism awed him. Flares lit the night sky, and the rippers ran from them with little fighting.

  At bridges all around the city, rippers fought to escape, but gunfire indicated that Bobs was ready for them, that she had spread her forces to cover all the remaining bridges. Rippers began leaping into the water to swim, but most of them were shot. Bobs was right. This was the night. It was a disaster for the rippers.

  Tevy and Kayla slept through the dawn hours, curled together against the chill of the night on a carpet deep in the middle of their floor of the tower. By the time Tevy, Kayla, Elliot, and the Ericsian platoon headed to ground level late in the morning, it was all over. They carefully surrendered to Webb’s forces as all of the Daylight Brigades were doing, but when word reached Webb about who his troops had captured, he came to congratulate them and get a tour of Vlad’s command center, now so flooded that the plastic tables of the food court were under water, and the boardroom table with the maps had become a raft. Tevy was able to retrieve his Glock from where it still held down a map.

  Tevy’s first plan was to escort Kayla to her room and fall into bed with her, maybe even sleep some more later, but Kayla wanted to clean up first, and Bobs wanted to see Tevy. He found her in the war room with Gonsalves and Chen, mapping out areas to sweep for hidden rippers. The basement sweeps were to be carried out by Bobs’ new Redemption Brigade, the former members of the Daylight Brigade that surrendered at the Merchandise Mart. Bobs wanted them to prove their loyalty to her alone.

  When Tevy arrived in the doorway, Bobs looked up and gave him the best smile he had ever received from her.

  “I knew if I goaded her enough she’d save your ass,” she said. “You guys can go.” That was to Gonsalves and Chen. She went to a sideboard and picked up a bottle of wine. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. Sit down and tell me everything.”

  Tevy sat and accepted a glass with clear liquid that fizzed. It tasted like soda, only without a fruit flavor and not as sweet. He told her of Elliot rescuing him and didn’t mention Radu or Bertrand Allan, but Bobs was no fool.

  “But who cut his head off then?”

  “Another ripper,” Tevy said, the bubbles of the drink going to his brain and the exhaustion slurring his words. It couldn’t just be the alcohol. He’d only had half a glass. “A ripper who had a beef with him, I guess.”

  “What happened to him?” Bobs reached forward with the bottle and filled Tevy’s glass.

  “He booked. The water wasn’t too high then, so maybe he got out of the city before the tunnels flooded.”

  Bobs didn’t look convinced. “Pretty strange that a ripper took your side at the last minute.”

  Bishop Alvarez spared Tevy further interrogation by coming in to congratulate him.

  Tevy knelt and kissed the ring, but Alvarez raised him to his feet and kissed each of his cheeks. “Truly, you are blessed by Christ. You will be the first of a new order of the church. But,” he said, waving a finger at Tevy and smiling, “you must be celibate. At least until I release you for marriage. We can’t let your fighting edge be softened by carnal knowledge.”

  “Your Excellency.” Tevy debated what to say and decided to go for the truth. “I’m honored and all, but I’m not your guy. I’m already married.”

  Bobs beat Alvarez to a reply. “What!”

  Tevy turned to meet her disapproval, his head spinning from the strange wine.

  “Kayla and I married this morning. We promised to stay together forever.” He turned to Alvarez. “You wouldn’t marry us, so we married ourselves after she rescued me.”

  Alvarez shook his head. “This was not a marriage before God.”

  “The hell is wasn’t.” Tevy fought to keep the anger from his voice. “If it wasn’t a miracle...a fucking miracle...that I was saved and Vlad beheaded, I don’t what is. God himself must’ve made that happen. He wanted Kayla and I to marry.”

  “Miracles rarely happen, and the intervention of Christ or a saint is required to make them happen. What you should understand—”

  Drunken singing interrupted Alvarez, and Emile stumbled through the door, unaware of the sermon he had stopped. “Bobs!” He raised a bottle identical to the one Bobs had opened. “This is the best Champagne! Wow! I mean, this day just keeps getting better.”

  “Get out and sleep it off.” Bobs hardly spared him a glance, her eyes burning holes in Tevy’s.


  “It’s just so great, though.” Emile tried to take a drink from the bottle and missed, pouring some down his shirt. “All this time I thought Bert was gone. It’s just so great that a little bit of him carried on. I should’ve known when I saw her face, you know, she’s got his nose, same color eyes too.” He slumped into a chair at the long table.

  Tevy rushed to distract attention from Emile. “Kayla and I are married.” He wondered why his words slurred, and he desperately wished he could just lie down.

  But Bobs wasn’t fooled, and her concentration now centered on Emile. “Who has Bert’s face?”

  Emile rested his head on his hands on the table, close to passing out, but he looked up with a grin. “The little girl. Funny, I always thought she and Jeff were the couple, him being so good looking and all. Who knew it was Bert? He won her heart.”

  “Wait a minute. You’ve seen this girl? Is she here?”

  Emile still grinned, unaware of the danger. “Oh yeah, she played with the Brat Pack for a few days before they moved out there to the Mart. Joyce’s daughter.” His head slumped into his hands.

  Alvarez had gone rigid. “Joyce has a daughter by Bertrand Allan?”

  He looked at Tevy and raised the crucifix from his chest and folded Tevy’s hands around it. “Who is the father of Joyce’s daughter? On Christ, who is the father?”

  Tevy couldn’t think and lying didn’t come naturally to him. “Bertrand Allan.”

  Bobs exploded. “What the fuck? You knew this and didn’t tell me?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “It’s all of my business. We’re about to make a fucking saint out of him. Saints don’t have children.”

  “We have to get her somewhere secret.” Alvarez paced back and forth by the table. “I will establish a convent far from the city. She can be raised there and join their ranks when she’s of age. She must grow old and die without offspring. The secret will die with her.”