The living used their weapons to slice body parts off the living dead. Those who had a leg chopped off, continued to crawl across the ground, toward any of the livings who had fallen. The humans would attack with two or three against each zombie. When they could pin a re-an to the ground with spears, another would use an axe to cut off arms legs and finally the zombie's head.
Most all of the dead souls fought like soldiers. They had no choice with the battle that was taking place inside their safe haven. The ancients, who had more experience with swords, proved their superior fighting skills, by dropping the humans with one or two quick strokes of their blades. Greg used his Samurai sword to slice through the living with ease. As the humans fell to the ground, several undead would converge on them, like a pack of wolves and feast on their still living bodies. Biting and tearing away flesh as the victims screamed out in their strange language. Minutes after the start of the battle, the humans found themselves greatly outnumbered.
Three of the living soldiers found Prometheus behind the crate and pulled him by his feet out into the open. One of them thrust his pike into the Athenians abdomen, while another came down with an axe on his knee, severing the lower part of his leg from his body, spraying blood over the area. The third human swung a hatchet toward the re-an's head. Prometheus tried to roll away, but he was still pinned to the ground by the pike in his midsection. All he could do was turn his head, as the blade cut through the side of his neck. While the human retracted his arm for another swing, the long blade of a sword pierced through the human's ribs. As the man fell to the ground, Prometheus saw Princess Rachel, who was still wearing the Panda shaped backpack, swing her sword at the living person holding the pike, decapitating him with one smooth slice. In a recoil motion, she beheaded the axe wielding man.
The Princess knelt down and placed her hand on the forehead of the Athenian and stared into his bright green eyes. With his head only partially attached to his body, she told him, "My good friend, it looks as though your journey in this strange world will soon come to an end and you will not get to see this world through blue eyes. I hope that whichever god sent you on this mission will show mercy in your next life."
Prometheus could feel his energy drain, just as he did when the Spartan soldier killed him centuries ago in Athens. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the small white video camera. Placing it in Princess Rachel's hand, he wrapped her fingers around it. "Protect this artifact. The good teacher Jennifer fought bravely to keep it from the descendants. She said it will be most valuable in spreading our message to the living. I feel I will be leaving this world, so I trust you will protect this I know you value our charge given to us by the gods."
As the battle continued to rage behind her, the Princess calmly replied, "I promise you, my friend, I will guard this as though it were the palace jewels."
Staring into her face and her multicolored hair, Prometheus slowly closed his eyes and his world faded to black.
Chapter 11
Lying on the ground, Prometheus opened his eyes to a flickering orange light. The sounds of gunfire and distant explosions filtered into his ears. The silhouette of a bug-like metal flying machine flew past, close to the tops of the buildings, making an awful pounding sound. As his vision slowly came into focus, he saw a bright chrome cutlass protruding from his ribs, while he wore the same clothes as the modern day soldiers. Standing above him, a man in a black leather motorcycle jacket, leather chaps, a black cowboy hat and heavy boots, pulled the sword back and slid it into a sheath strapped on his belt. Broken windows and burn scars covered the surrounding downtown buildings with the only light emanating from scattered small fires. A few skirmishes took place on the street between the livings and re-ans, behind the leather-clad man with the long sandy colored hair and one earring dangling from his left ear. A bullet hole in his chest with a blood soaked t-shirt gave indication as to how the body died. The biker bent over, with their faces a foot apart, and glared into the Athenians eyes. "Ya dirty bilge rat! I just killed ya." He placed his fingers in Prometheus's mouth, opened it, and then scanned his teeth. "Do ya be living or ya be a necromancer?"
With the fingers still in his mouth, Prometheus garbled the words, "I believe, I am still one of the living dead."
The leather-clad man pulled his fingers out and stood up. He reached his hand down to help Prometheus stand up. Back on his feet, the man from Greece scanned his new body. He wore a soldier's battle uniform with a large bloodstain where the biker stabbed him.
"Ye be one of da lucky ones," the biker said.
Still scanning his clothes, Prometheus ran his hand across the top of his head and felt the short buzz cut. "Your words offer confusion, my friend. What do you mean, I am a lucky one?"
A truck smashed into the building across the street. Several zombies stormed the vehicle as flames emanated from the engine compartment. Undead pulled the driver out and began to feast on his still living body, while he screamed in agony. They used large knives and swords to cut open his abdomen, pull out his organs and then pass them around to the other undead. The man remained alive long enough to see his organs cut and pulled from his body.
The biker replied, "Yar have a new body. Tis a rare commodity these days. The descendants have been burning thar dead, leaving only the older decayed bodies fer us ta inhabit. Ya have da makins of a fine crewmember."
The Athenian looked at the man and asked, "What is your name, friend, and from where do you hail?"
The biker appeared a bit puzzled. "I be the one who should ask ye those questions. I be Captain Galen Bartholomew and I hail from da sea. I once called England my home until Queen Anne revoked me charter as a privateer. On that day, I proudly took da moniker of pirate."
"My name is Prometheus and I hail from-"
While passing behind Captain Bartholomew, Princess Rachel heard the name and cut him off with excitement. The Harajuku girl with the pink and blue hair had traded the Panda backpack for an oversized military universal camouflage jacket with a large battle sword strapped across her back. She ran over, wrapped her arms around the Athenian, and said, "The good Prometheus, I have missed you so much." She released her hug and turned to the Captain. "This is the Prometheus you have heard us talking about." Turning back to her friend, she said, "I have been hoping you would return. A few of the originals have left and come back in new bodies, but I really hoped I would one day get to talk to you again." The Princess moved close and studied his eyes. "It appears you will not have to collect the strings of life from the beginning, because your eyes are still bright green. You attained a rare position in our society. Very few have been granted the green eyes and to this day, none has remained in our presence long enough to reach the blue. I have been here all this time, feasted many times to gather the strings of life and yet I do not have the status of the bright colored eyes that you hold."
Another military helicopter flew above the skyscrapers and rained explosive bullets down on a group of zombies across the street. From behind the wreckage of two burnt out cars, a rocket powered grenade streaked into the sky, impacting with a fireball. The explosion brought the helicopter tumbling out of the sky, bouncing off the buildings, and smashing on the ground. The Captain and Princess Rachel didn't flinch, as the concussion hit them, indicating they had grown immune to such battle damage. More re-ans pulled the crew out of the chopper and feasted on their warm bodies.
Bartholomew paid no attention to the downed aircraft and said, "The legendary Prometheus, the one who built the Village of Dead Souls."
The Greek man gave a puzzled expression and asked, "The Village of Dead Souls?"
Princess Rachel replied, "As our numbers grew, we used the government model you drafted for us back in the early days. It helped us create structure when we outgrew the warehouse and moved into the city. The livings have not occupied the city center for a very long time and they gave in to allowing us to reside here." She motioned her hand toward the top of what rema
ined of the skyscrapers. Re-ans occupy all these tall buildings. We named our new town, The Village of Dead Souls."
Still confused at what he heard, Prometheus responded, "You said the early days? How long have I been away? It feels like I was in the warehouse battle only moments ago. I can still hear the clashing of the swords and see the faces of the humans who killed me. Your face is the last that I saw before I opened my eyes to this leather clad pirate."
She hesitated and answered, "It has been six years since we have spoken together. So many events have occurred since those days in the warehouse. The livings no longer consider us an uprising. They now refer to us as a War of the Dead or the War against the Dead."
As more explosions resonated through the streets, the pirate Captain said, "We should move back to the stronghold or risk losing our friend again."
He placed his hand on the Greek man's back, and led him down the street away from the fighting. Princess Rachel walked next to him and summarized what had happened since Prometheus died in the warehouse. "The morning after the battle where you died, we noticed the brave Gunnar Benwa was also missing from our ranks. We sadly determined that he had been captured by the livings during their raid, since we did not find his body." She stepped over some building rubble on the sidewalk. "In the coming years, the descendants began to die in large numbers, but not from our blades. They blamed those deaths on a demon they called the Omega Plague. It is a sickness brought on by a cough and nose bleeds. When a descendant catches the Omega, they only have a few days of life before their soul leaves their body. As their numbers decreased, ours multiplied rapidly."
The Princess pointed to the pirate. "The good Captain joined our clan and attained the position of our new leader because you and Gunnar were no longer here. With his experience of leading a crew into sea battles, he has proven to be a valiant chief of the clan."
Captain Bartholomew explained, "Da living thought da uprising would go away, but it turned into an actual war. As human numbers dwindled, they started burning dar bodies ta keep dem from turning into more necros. Many of our souls are inside the bodies of those who had been buried beneath da ground for a long time. Thar bodies be not as seaworthy as da moderns. We use dem more for canon fodder ta support da strong soldiers."
They turned a corner and Prometheus saw several living dead staggering through the streets. As the Captain described, they inhabited gray decayed bodies. Torn and partially disintegrated clothing covered their torsos with exposed ribs, bones, muscle fiber and dried, shriveled internal organ showing through openings of ripped flesh. The scene stunned him, but he kept his composure and said, "I know I am one of the living dead, but this sight still gives me a bit of a fright."
The Captain replied, "Yar be getting used to it."
The Princess reached inside her jacket and pulled out the small white video camera. "I have protected this device all these years, just as you asked. As it was originally entrusted to you, I will place it back in your care."
Prometheus took the camera from her hand and placed it in his shirt pocket, as the three zombies entered a large building past some burnt out cars placed in the front, as a protective barrier. "Gratitude to my sister, the Princess. I hope we soon learn how this will help in our cause."
Inside the building, he saw the large open interior lit up by oil lanterns and small fires contained inside metal barrels. Torn papers, old magazines, and scattered books all written in the strange scribble of the living covered the marble floor. Several of the modern and decayed bodied undead wandered through the various hallways on the multiple platforms. Many carried automatic rifles, shotguns, swords and pistols strapped to their hips.
Princess Rachel explained, "This used to be the library of our descendents. It is a sad truth, we cannot read any of these books, because the stories would truly help pass the time."
Prometheus asked, "What news is there about Titus and the clan he established outside of this city?"
Princess Rachel responded, "The good Titus still has his village of those who do not want to accept their charge from the gods. It is with some sadness that I must tell you the number of his followers has grown."
The Captain interjected, "Titus and his clan keep dar guard ready fer war at all times. However, da living give his camp a large berth. They not be incurring the battles, we face almost daily. Da humans have learned dar bullets have no effect on us, but they be still vulnerable to da hot lead. But, they’ve learned, we do not fair well with de explosions."
* * *
Surrounded by stacks of sandbags forming a bunker in the parking lot of the city football stadium, General Brown yelled into his radio handset, "No, you can't wait for a napalm strike! We don't have any napalm! We haven't used napalm for fifty years. If we did have napalm, we don't have any planes to deliver the crap. This isn't a movie and the Calvary isn't coming over the hill to save your ass. Stop complaining and move your men up two blocks, so you can cover Colton's south flank!"
He threw the handset on the table with the radio. The small video screen mounted to the lid of a storage crate lit up with the face of another officer who saw the temper tantrum and asked, "Did I catch you at a bad time?"
Without turning toward the video call, Brown replied, "Tell me you have good news about sending me more troops."
The officer on the screen, appeared to be located in another bunker, surrounded by tan colored sandbags. "The Provisional Congress is still trying to find an interim President. They don't seem to be concerned about rebuilding the military at this time."
"Whatever happened to the succession of power? Someone has to be next in line to become President."
"We're down to the Secretary of Housing and he quit his position two weeks ago. Everybody in line after him is dead."
Brown turned to the video screen. "What do you need? I doubt you called to let me know how we are so screwed."
The man on the screen responded, "Unfortunately, for you, it gets worse."
"Great."
"It looks like public enemy number one is back in your area."
The General picked up an ammo canister and threw it across the bunker. "Hellion! That's just what I need now. Can I shoot her on sight?"
"As much as that would bring you pleasure, we need her alive. There's too much knowledge bouncing around her brain that we can use. She still has a vast network of followers, who still think the re-ans are just a group of misunderstood people looking for a new start on life."
"Thanks for the pick me up." Brown said sarcastically.
"Oh, there's more."
The large General placed his hands on top of the crate, holding the video screen, and placing his face close to the camera. "And what other wonderful things do you have for me?"
The officer on the screen, pointed straight into his camera and said, "I think I'll let your aide tell you the next part."
A thin man in his early forties, quickly walked into the bunker. He wore denim jeans and a universal camouflage military jacket over his oxford cloth button down shirt. As the lieutenant gave the large General a piece of paper, he said, "We just lost a helicopter. It went down by the convention center."
Brown turned his attention away from the video screen and watched an M1 Abrams tank slowly drive across the lot toward the stadium. "Did our men make it out?"
"They didn't send up any flares and all we can hear on their radio is a bunch of re-an garble."
Several men ran next to the tank, waving their arms yelling, "Stop!"
The General kept his eyes on the heavy armor. "Johnson's unit is hold up just off of Colfax. Tell them to move in and rescue the crew. Colton and his men are east of his position and should provide some cover."
The lieutenant cleared his throat and nervously said, "Bill's unit has been overrun. We have a report of some re-ans trying to drive their M113 down Broadway."
"Damn it!" Brown lifted his right leg and kicked over an entire side of the sandbag barrier. The crate holding up the video screen fel
l over and the electronics shattered under a mass of white sparks. "Round up five men and go get that crew! We're running short on pilots and we need them back."
The Lieutenant remained in the bunker, staring at the General. He glanced down and shuffled his feet a bit, and then turned his attention back to the officer.
Brown glanced at the tank headed for the stadium wall and then back at his lieutenant. "What? Why aren't you moving? I gave you an order. I know you're really a civilian, but you do know what an order is, don't you?"
The thin man reached in his back pocket, pulled out another piece of paper and handed it to his commander. As the General unfolded the note, the Lieutenant said, "Admiral Douglas died from the Omega virus yesterday and General Stanton was killed in action with the re-ans this morning in Philadelphia. You are now in charge of the entire military. With martial law in place, and with no sitting President, theoretically, you are now the leader of this nation."
General Brown cringed as he heard the M1 tank crash into the wall of the stadium behind him. "Great, as your Commander and Chief, I'm ordering you to go save our pilots."
Chapter 12
The early morning sun beamed through the broken windows onto the library floor. Ravens perched on light fixtures and the bookshelves through the room, and they appeared to be ready to scavenge their next meal. The once proud building tried to hold onto and display the remaining details of its beauty and unique architecture. Marble light sconces held bird’s nests. Detailed ornate crown molding showed streaks of water damage. Soot from trashcan fires marred the brightly colored walls.
As he stood around the large table with the other undead, Prometheus stared at the streaks of light cascading down through the broken stained glass windows and thought of the same scene back in the warehouse. Only this building had more opulence. Bartholomew pushed the brim of his hat up and pointed to a section of the large map spread across the wooden table. "This be the line where descendants have pulled back dar soldiers. We should scout dis new area over here fer supplies. Sometimes, we be finding less fortunate's who stayed behind. Those poor souls be our next feast fer us to be gathering the strings of life. "
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