by Spriggs, Kal
“Is that all you've got?” Jack panted, staring up at Malik and his guards. Malik's eyes were wide, his mouth open in shock. Jack felt nauseous and weak. His breath rasped in his ears and he wanted to vomit and collapse. He didn't let that show as he stared up at his captor.
The shock faded from Malik's face, replaced by some other emotion that Jack couldn't read. “Bring him,” Malik hissed. A moment later, two guards dropped into the pit. One had a pair of handcuffs, the other had his rifle aimed at Jack's head.
We'll see how this goes, Jack thought. At least if they weren't throwing another zombie into the pit... not yet anyway. As they dragged him out, he shot a glance back at Drake. “I'll be back for you,” he said.
***
Nidal felt uncertainty flutter in his stomach as he went back to his quarters. He never would have believed it, not without seeing it with his own eyes. Jack Zamora had destroyed one of the holy dead, a powerful and recently created one, without a weapon, with nothing beyond determination and his refusal to surrender.
Nidal had seen skilled soldiers collapse at the touch of one as it drained their will to fight and broke them with terror, yet this normal man had stood against them. Nidal shuddered at the very thought. Clearly, Jack Zamora was a warrior born... and that meant that Nidal must win him over.
That defiance of his is unbreakable, Nidal thought to himself, yet if it could be bent rather than broken... He thought, then, of his master. If Nidal could not put fear into the heart of this man, then surely the direct emissary of Meslamtaeda could do so? The Hand of God could do what no mortal man could accomplish. He alone had purged the city of all mortal humans in the span of only a few hours.
Surely he could bring proper fear to Jack Zamora.
“Ready the men,” Nidal snapped to First Sergeant Orial. “We'll offer praise at the Cathedral and then we will go after the two escapees.” He still needed to think up an appropriate punishment for Captain Carney over the man's failures. The idiot had required substantial healing and he seemed to think that he deserved some kind of reward for some reason. The idiot didn't seem to realize that it was his incompetence that made the Doctor's escape a close call.
First Sergeant Orial gave a nod, “Do you want me to ready sacrifices?”
Nidal thought about the old man and the family in the pit. They were of no use to him now. They would spread word of Jack Zamora defying him. He'd have to kill them to prevent that, even though he'd planned on killing the old man anyway.
I still must deal with Doctor Madison, though. Nidal shook his head, “Have the Doctor and her other patient brought to the cathedral. Recall Captain Carney and have him do it.” Nidal figured that if the idiot hadn't managed to recapture the two escapees yet, then he probably wouldn't succeed. “We will offer the woman to the Hand of God, and the Doctor can have a look at what her fate will be if she ever defies me again.”
“Yes, Lord Regent,” First Sergeant Orial nodded. He departed to make the preparations and Nidal paced in his office, his hand going to the scars at his throat as he considered things. He'd lost four men, not an inconsiderable number. The Hand of God would want an explanation.
Captain Carney, he realized, I will have to give him up... the Hand of God will want someone to pay for this failure. Nidal felt no regret at the decision. Captain Carney had become a liability as soon as he allowed an unarmed man to best him. He regretted healing him, the cost of power granted by his God would be wasted now, but he'd restore his reserves with the fall of darkness.
If I can turn Jack Zamora, then I will have a man worth ten Captain Carneys.
***
They put Jack back in his room in the Palace, and he found Sean McCune awaiting him. “Captain!” The man looked sheepish, “I thought you were done for.”
“I suppose they made you some kind of offer?” Jack asked, rubbing at his wrists. They'd taken the cuffs off, at least. Jack didn't know if he were to consider himself a “guest” or if this was merely a prelude to some other kind of execution.
“Yeah,” McCune shrugged. “Women, wealth, that kind of thing. I asked for time to think about it.” He rolled his eyes upwards and Jack caught his meaning. The room was probably under observation.
“Smart of you, I guess,” Jack said. “Their Lord Regent clearly has a lot more going for him than we thought.” It was probably too late to suck up, but Jack was willing to pretend to go along at least until an opportunity to escape came. In the meantime, though... He moved over and took a seat on the bed. Surreptitiously, he slipped one hand under the mattress. Bingo, he thought as he slipped the cylinders out and then tucked them into his pockets.
McCune gave him a slight nod and they stood quietly waiting.
They didn't have to wait long. The sun had begun to set and the door opened. Captain Hudson stood in the doorway, “The Lord Regent requests your presence,” the big black man filled the entire doorway. Jack fought the temptation to tell him no. While it might be amusing to confuse Malik's officer, no doubt he and his goons wouldn't hesitate to drag them both out to whatever Malik had planned.
Jack stepped into the corridor. He could tell he'd made the right decision when he saw a dozen armed guards there, several of them carrying truncheons. McCune followed him out, and the entire procession went down to the lobby area, and then out to a set of open-topped Humvees. Jack climbed in and Sean McCune sat next to him. Captain Hudson reached over and handcuffed them both to the frame.
“What if we need to get out?” Jack asked. The big man didn't answer.
This wasn't looking good. Hudson took a seat up front and the driver pulled out, followed by two more of the vehicles. These were battered Humvees, more like what Jack would have expected to see looted from a random National Guard armory.
They didn't drive far. Jack was feeling more and more concerned though, as they came to a stop in front of the large cathedral that he'd seen earlier. There was something wrong about the place in the failing light of evening. There was clear damage to the building. All the stained glass windows were smashed out, but then someone had bricked them in. All the religious icons were gone from the outside, too, he saw. There wasn't a single cross and there were jagged stumps where statues and icons had jutted. As the big wooden doors opened on their approach, Jack saw that someone had removed the furniture from the cathedral floor itself, leaving empty tile, and strange shapes were painted on that tile in what looked like either red paint or blood.
The shapes made Jack's head hurt and he pulled his gaze away. He was a bit surprised that no one had frisked him for weapons, but it seemed that Hudson wasn't imaginative enough to think to look for weapons that Jack might have picked up in the room.
Malik stood at an altar at the far end of the cathedral, fifty or more men in uniform standing below him. They were praying or chanting, the words sounding like nonsense and giving Jack a headache. He deliberately tuned them out, noticing how the entire space had a dark, oppressive feel, lit only by a few candles.
As they waited, Jack heard the sound of more vehicles outside. A moment later, Carney came through the doors, dragging Doctor Madison and another woman with her.
Carney sneered when he saw Jack. “To think, you're still alive,” he shook his head. “Not much longer, I expect.” He shot a knowing look at Doctor Madison, “Kate here, she's probably not long for this world, either. Of course, maybe if she convinces me she's properly sorry, then I'll speak on her behalf...”
“Go to hell,” the doctor snapped.
Carney smirked at that. “You'll change your tune, soon enough.”
Jack's hands dropped to his pockets. He wanted nothing more than to wipe Carney's smirk away forever... but this wasn't the time or place for that.
Carney seemed to sense his hate, and the jovial man stepped forward, “Oh, you really should try something, like back at the palace. Go ahead, I'd enjoy having my men beat you senseless in front of Doctor Madison, it'll put her in the right state of terror for what's going to happen ne
xt.”
“You're going to die,” Jack said softly, just loud enough for the other man to hear. Jack cocked his head and narrowed his eyes and added, “Screaming.”
Carney's smirk faded and he stepped back, clearly unnerved. He adopted a confident expression, though. “You think you're so smart, do you? We knew you were coming. The Lord Regent knew that you would come, after we took your scouts. The boy, Mitchel, survived long enough to tell us everything, especially after I spent a few hours torturing him.”
Jack flinched at the confirmation that Malik's people had killed Scout Team One.
“You think it is coincidence that there was a train on the Merchant's Bridge?” Carney grinned. “We have the codes for the trains from the yard. A whole book full of them, for half the trains in the country, I'd wager. We blocked those tracks as soon as we learned how you were traveling. We made it so that you'd have to come here, just like we used a host of holy dead to corner you so that we could make contact. You've played into our plan every step of the way...”
“So letting my people escape and letting me beat you to a pulp was part of your plan?” Jack asked. “Very clever of you, I never would have suspected it.”
Carney's mouth snapped shut. That was confirmation enough that Lieutenant Baxter and Warrant Officer Knighton had escaped... or at least, that Carney's people hadn't found them. Jack hoped that meant they'd made it to the bridge.
Of course, they didn't know that Nidal Malik had some kind of control over the undead. Jack would have to learn what he could and get that information out. And about those train codes... He remembered the books kept in Nidal's quarters.
Jack had begun to put together a plan. “Drive your vehicles over here, back from a patrol?” Jack asked absently.
“Of course...” Carney stuttered to a halt and stared at Jack suspiciously. He clamped his mouth shut. More the pity, Jack thought, he was giving me good intelligence...
A moment later, Malik himself arrived. The Lord Regent looked oddly energetic. “Come. All of you, you will learn what true power is...”
The guards pushed Jack and the others ahead of them, down the stairs after their Lord Regent. The first thing that Jack noticed was the bone-chilling cold. His breath fogged and the cold seemed to seep through his clothing and skin and into his very bones.
Jack could hear chattering teeth and he looked back to see Doctor Madison and the woman with her shivering at the cold. Beside him, McCune rubbed at his arms, looking around with wide eyes. “Ain't natural,” McCune muttered, but his words came out as little more than a whisper. The cold should have felt good after the sweltering heat. But it wasn't a natural chill. It seemed almost like a living thing, a hungry thing, which sapped the strength from Jack's arms and legs.
Malik led them deeper, pulling out a lantern and lighting it at the base of the stairs on the lowest level. They walked past echoing chambers and the hairs on the back of Jack's neck rose. He didn't know what was going on, but he didn't like it. He paused as he caught a glimpse of something in the dark and his eyes widened as he saw the forms of dozens, hundreds of undead standing silent in the cold darkness of the side rooms.
“A holy host,” Malik rasped, holding up the lantern so they could see further. McCune swore as they could see thousands of undead, standing in silent ranks, packed into each of the rooms. There was something wrong with these zombies, Jack felt. It wasn't just that they didn't leap to attack. It was something about their gray, dead skin, the way they stood and how their hands almost seemed to end in claws. They looked stronger, somehow... hungrier. It was like they made normal zombies seem less of a hazard.
“One of many hosts,” Nidal Malik uttered. “There are hundreds of such armies throughout the city. There are millions of holy undead. An unstoppable army... one that needs but a proper general.”
“Good luck with that,” Jack snorted.
“Do not mock the offer, Jack Zamora,” Malik hissed. “Can you imagine that kind of power? Imagine a million undead at your bidding, backed by an army of living soldiers, willing to fight and die for you, knowing that their souls will go on to paradise if they die in their God's service?”
Jack shot the madman a look. Is he serious? Yet Malik seemed too caught up in the idea to notice Jack's expression. “We would be unstoppable together, Captain. You will see things clearly, soon... or I will find another, I suppose.”
They came to a broad set of double doors. They opened on their approach. What Jack had thought was cold before was but a cool summer morning compared to the arctic chill that rolled out of that room. Jack found himself shivering so hard that he could barely walk. Malik seemed unaffected and the guards pushed Jack and the others into the room beyond.
Jack felt like ice was forming on his eyeballs. The light from Malik's lantern seemed pitiful. Seated on a throne of some sort was a cloaked figure. Its size was wrong, though, for its head seemed to almost brush the ceiling, even seated.
Malik dropped to his knees and pressed his head to the floor. Before Jack knew what was happening, someone kicked his legs from under him and he found himself kneeling. Sean McCune dropped to his knees beside him, then Doctor Madison on Jack's other side and the other woman next to her. Each of them forced to kneel by one of the guards. Jack shot a glance over his shoulder and saw Captain Hudson and Captain Carney kneeling, the other guards dropping to their knees as well.
“What have you brought me?” A powerful voice asked. The words sounded wrong to Jack, like someone took the sounds of broken glass and crushed metal and tortured them until they sounded like words.
“A gift for you,” Malik said, not lifting his face from the floor. “And prospective worshipers. They defied me, but I thought you might help them to see the truth.”
The figure stood and the light of the lantern seemed to draw even deeper on itself. Waves of darkness seemed to emanate from the cloaked figure in a fashion that made Jack's eyes hurt. What was this? Who was this?
“These are the ones that killed some of your warriors, are they not?” the cloaked figure asked, the voice making Jack's head throb with pain. He slowly reached his hand down to his right pocket.
“Yes, Great Emissary,” Nidal Malik said. “But they were able to do so only because of a failure on the part of those in your service.”
“You do not deny it, wise of you...” The figure moved to stand over Malik. “Who should take the blame, then?”
“Captain Carney failed you, Hand of God. He failed in his responsibilities and he allowed one unarmed prisoner to overpower him and two others to escape,” Malik said the words calmly, without emphasis.
Jack heard a panicked gasp from Carney. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Captain Hudson and another of the soldiers grab Carney by the shoulders and shove him forward next to Jack and the others.
“No!” Carney wailed, “No, it's not true! I didn't fail, I--”
He didn't have a chance to finish. The Hand of God reached out one impossibly long arm and caught the man by the throat. He lifted Carney into the air and darkness seemed to pour into Carney from the cloak. With horror, Jack realized that the cloak wasn't fabric at all, it was some kind of living darkness that crawled into Carney's very flesh.
Carney tried to scream, but he couldn't get anything past the hand clenched around his throat. Jack watched with wide eyes as the man's eyes sank back in his head, as his skin drew taut on his bones. The very essence of him seemed to shrink on itself as the darkness poured into him... until he was nothing but a fleshy husk.
Then the Hand of God released him and Carney fell to the ground. A moment later, his body arose, an undead, and shambled away into the darkness.
“I am pleased with you, Lord Protector,” the Hand of God spoke. “Meslamtaeda accepts this sacrifice... what of these others?”
“The men, Great Emissary, will make fine warriors for your cause,” Malik rasped, still not looking up. “One of the women is useful to me, but defiant. I wanted her to witness your power and t
he consequences of failure. The other is of no use to me and I brought as sacrifice.”
The big figure stepped forward and loomed over Doctor Madison and the other woman. “They will witness her death, then, and know the power of Meslamtaeda. I will--”
“No,” Jack rose to his feet and stepped in front of the monster. It was everything he could do to not to flee in terror, but he stood his ground. His stomach roiled at the awful unnaturalness of this creature and this place. “I won't let you hurt them. Go to hell.”
***
Chapter Twelve
The huge figure loomed over Jack, “You dare to defy me, little man-thing? I have existed for longer than your pathetic species has known fire. I have consumed the souls of millions in my service of Meslamtaeda.” The name it spoke sent stabbing pain through Jack's head, but he didn't back down. “Nothing you do will stop me, I will feast upon your pathetic defiant soul and then take both women, and then I will catch your souls...”
“How about you catch this first?” Jack asked. He pulled the pin out of the thermite grenade and tossed it upwards at the monster. The spoon flew free and clattered to the ground with a rattle.
The creature moved faster than Jack could see, snatching the grenade out of the air. “What pathetic trick is this...”
Jack closed his eyes. The thermite ignited with the intensity of a star and burned at over four thousand degrees Fahrenheit. The Hand of God's hand and arm erupted into flames and the being gave a scream of anguish. The scream almost drove Jack to his knees, but instead he reached back and pulled Sean and Doctor Madison to their feet, “Move!” he shouted. He pushed them ahead of him and then grabbed the other woman and shoved her towards the doors.
