Endworld #28 Dark Days

by rebel4477

  “It’s strong enough to,” Blade said. “Which makes me wonder why it didn’t.”

  “Probably because Hickok’s head is made of the hardest substance known to man,” Geronimo said.

  “And what substance might that be, you mangy redskin?” Hickok groggily grumbled, rising.

  “Dumb.”

  The three of them turned to the sprawled body of the Empath.

  “Hellfire,” Hickok said sadly.

  “I didn’t know her that well but she was always nice to me,” Geronimo said.

  “This is my fault,” fault,” Blade declared. “I should have had more Warriors.”

  Hickok gestured at the head with its fringe of jagged flesh, and the sprawled body. “We should cover those.”

  “I’ll get a blanket,” Geronimo volunteered, and ran toward the nearest Block.

  All across the compound shouts were being raised. The gunfire had brought the Family on the run. Men, women and children, some with blankets over their shoulders, many in a state of undress.

  The first to arrive was Samson, the head of Zulu Triad. He was shirtless, his massive muscles rippling with every movement. He saw the body and drew up short. “Who is it?”

  “Clarice,” Blade said.

  Lynx came bounding down the stairs from the rampart above the drawbridge. “What’s goin’ on down here? I was on the north wall and heard shootin’.”

  Light splashed over them. A Tiller by the name of Horace was carrying a lantern.

  “Lynx, keep everyone back ,” Blade commanded. “Get other Warriors to help.” He removed his leather vest and placed it over the severed head.

  Out of the growing crowd walked their Leader, his grey hair down to his shoulders. Plato had taken to using a staff in recent years because his legs were prone to bouts of weakness. Without saying a word he stepped to the vest, raised it, and peered under. “So your suspicion that it would go after her was correct.”

  “A lot of good I did her,” Blade said bitterly.

  “Were you also right about what it is?”

  “A Gualaon. A shapeshifter. It posed as the little girl to gain entrance to the Home.”

  “And we welcomed it with open arms,” Plato said. “It’s still alive, I take it?”

  “It is,” Blade confirmed.

  “I need an assessment,” Plato said. “You’re familiar with these creatures. I’m not. How great a threat is it?”

  “Great,” Blade said. “It can assume any form. Any shape. It can even be one of us.”

  Just then another Warrior came out of the darkness. “Sorry it took me so long. I’d just gotten to bed.”

  “No problem, Sundance,” Blade said.

  CHAPTER 14

  Blade was in turmoil. Part of it was his deep sorrow over Clarice. The other part was his failure to find the shapeshifter.

  At daybreak he’d had every square inch of the Home searched. Every adult Family member took part, as well as the older children . They didn’t find the Gualaon. There was no trace of the thing. He supposed it was possible that it had scaled the walls and fled but he very much doubted it.

  The searchers did find something that compounded his unease, a patch of blood between the Blocks and the cabins. Enough blood that it suggested a serious wound. Yet no one reported being hurt.

  He had a lot to ponder.

  Toward noon he was walking near the tilled fields, his hands clasped behind his back, when his fellow Warriors in Alpha Triad came up.

  “What the blazes are you doing way out here by yourself, pard?” Hickok asked.

  “None of us are to go anywhere alone,” Geronimo reminded him.

  “Some big dummy named Blade gave that order,” Hickok said. “You’d better follow it or he’s liable to stick a knife in you.”

  “I’m not in the mood for frivolous,” Blade said.

  “Frivolous? Me?” Hickok said.

  “Do you even know what it means?” Geronimo asked.

  “I savvy that you’re worried that lizard-breath isn’t through with us,” Hickok said to Blade. “Just remember you’re not in this alone. We’re right at your side the whole way.”

  “It could be anyone in the Home,” Blade said. “Even one of us.”

  “The question is,” Geronimo said, “how do we root out a shapeshifter?”

  “What about the other Empaths?” Hickok suggested.

  “I’ve already asked them and they’re trying but so far all they’ve picked up are vague impressions,” Blade said. “Apparently Clarice was the only one who had a strong sense of the thing. Without her, we’re blind, as it were.”

  “The hybrids, then,” Hickok said. “Can’t kitty cat and the weasel smell it out?”

  “They’ve tried,” Blade informed him. “But there’s something about its scent. It’s elusive. Almost as if it doesn’t have any. Or it can control how much it gives off.”

  “So what do we do, pard? Twiddle our thumbs until it kills again?”

  “If you have an inspiration I’m open to ideas.”

  “At least there’s only one of them,” Geronimo said. “Imagine if there were five or six.”

  “One is enough,” Blade said.

  “What I don’t get,” Hickok said, “is where these things come from. From what it was saying, its kind were around long before World War Three. They weren’t spawned by the radiation and the chemicals.”

  “They claim they came from the stars,” Blade remembered from his clash with the Gualaon in L.A.

  “They’re aliens?” Geronimo said.

  “One of them told me that Cro-Magnons and Neanderthals painted them on cave walls.”

  “If they’ve been here that long,” Geronimo said, “they’re not really aliens anymore. They’ve acclimated.”

  “Another thing I don’t get,” Hickok said. “They’re smart. And they’re tough. Did you see how that thing soaked up lead in the fight at the moat? Yet it called the Lords of Kismet its masters. Now I ask you. Who or what are these Lords that they can control a thing like that?”

  “All I know about the Lords,” Blade said, “is what it told us.”

  “That they’re planning to take over the world?” Hickok chuckled. “They think big, I’ll say that for them.”

  “It’s not funny.” Blade tiredly rubbed his eyes. “It could be why we can’t get in touch with the Civilized Zone or the California government.”

  “You think the Lords of Kismet have already taken them over?” Geronimo asked.

  “I don’t know. But I intend to find out once we’ve dealt with our situation here.”

  “Oh goody,” Hickok said. “Another road trip in the SEAL . It shouldn’t take more than six months or so to get to California and back.”

  Suddenly there was a blur of movement to the south of them.

  Hickok whirled, his Pythons out and in his hands as if they materialized out of thin air. The twin clicks of the hammers brought the person running toward them to a stop.

  “Hold on there, bub,” Lynx said. “It’s me.”

  “Better watch who you sneak up on,” Hickok said. He let down the hammers and twirled the Pythons into their holsters.

  Lynx turned his emerald cat’s eyes on Blade. “You need to come with me. You need to see.”

  “You found something?”

  “Ferret and me have been sniffing all over the place like you wanted. We caught the scent of blood near the south moat.”

  “A body?” Blade said.

  “You need to see,” Lynx said again. “It’s left a note.”

  “A what?”

  “Addressed to you,” Lynx said.

  They hurried.

  Ferret and Gremlin were waiting, the latter with tears glistening his cheeks.

  "She was always so nice to me, yes? How could anything do this to her, no?"

  “God Almighty,” Hickok breathed.

  Her name was Bethany and sh
e had only been eight years old. The shapeshifter had literally ripped her to pieces. Her arms and legs had been torn off and left lying near her shredded body. Her head sat on the stump of her neck, her face twisted in the terror she felt in her last moments.

  Blade smothered a surge of fury and stepped to a split stick stuck in the ground. A piece of paper had been wedged in it. He yanked the stick out and removed the paper. The handwriting was in an exquisite cursive, every letter neat and precise.

  “What does it say, pard?” Hickok asked.

  “Blade,” Blade read, and he had to cough to keep going. “This makes three. It’s just the start. You’ll never know who or where. Feeling helpless yet?” His jaw muscles twitched. “P.S. I didn’t eat her because she wet herself.”

  “That sick son of a bitch,” Hickok said. “I’m going to enjoy killing it.”

  Blade crumpled the note and stared at the remains and placed his hands on his bowies. “You’ll have to get in line.”

  “First we have to find it,” Geronimo said, “and how do we do that?”

  No one had an answer.

  CHAPTER 15

  Several days went by. Several ordinary, uneventful days. The Family went about their usual routine. The Tillers worked in the fields. The Builders worked on a new cabin. The Weavers worked on new quilts. The Hunters ventured outside the walls after fresh meat.

  It was the latter who reported sighting a swarm of zombies in the next valley over. That was what the Family had taken to calling large groups of the undead. And when a swarm was near, they were a danger to anyone who set foot out of the compound. Which was why Blade always dispatched Warriors to deal with them.

  This time he decided to send Omega Triad, and walked with Ares, Sundance and Helen to the drawbridge.

  “Listen up,” Blade said as the drawbridge was being lowered. “Get it done quickly and get back here. I don’t like being at less than full strength when the Gualaon can strike at any time.”

  “Maybe it’s gone,” Helen said. “There haven’t been any new attacks.”

  “You heard about the note we found near Bethany,” Blade reminded her. “The thing isn’t gone. It’s biding its time.”

  “We’ll kill the zombies and get right back,” Ares said. “Count on it.”

  Sundance nodded.

  “I don’t need to warn you to be on the lookout for mutates and God knows what else,” Blade said. “There’s also another possible threat.”

  The three Warriors waited.

  “The Gualaon serves the Lords of Kismet. When I went up against other Gualaons in Los Angeles, they had helpers of their own. They dress in black and use martial arts weapons and call themselves Assassins.”

  “And you think some of them might be lurking around here?” Ares asked.

  Blade shrugged. “We haven’t seen any but you never know. I’m only saying so you can be on the lookout.”

  “We’ll stay alert, like always,” Ares promised. “

  Like always,” Helen echoed.

  Sundance nodded.

  “Off you go, then,” Blade said, and watched them cross the drawbridge. He glanced at the top of the wall, where Spartacus was on duty. “Keep your eyes and ears peeled.”

  “When don’t I?” Spartacus said.

  Blade turned to find the Family’s revered Leader approaching. He smiled warmly and said, “Morning, Plato.”

  His frail frame bent, relying heavily on his staff, Plato returned the smile. “We’re overdue for a talk. Is now a good time?”

  “I always have time for you.”

  They strolled toward the Commons area between the Blocks.

  Gesturing at breaks in the cloud cover, Plato said, “We see more blue these days.”

  “You didn’t look me up to talk about the sky,” Blade replied.

  “No,” Plato said. “I came about the Gualaon, and the fear it has instilled on our Family. They don’t show it but you don’t have to be an Empath to feel it.”

  “I’ve taken every precaution.”

  “I trust you have And I would imagine your every effort is geared towards killing it.”

  “What else?” Blade rejoined.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Plato said, “that it might be wiser to try and take it alive.”

  Blade stopped. “I’d say you can’t be serious but I know you too well.”

  “Hear me out,” Plato said. “We need to learn more about these creatures. We know next to nothing about them beyond their shapeshifting, and even there we don’t know the extent of their ability. For instance, can they only mimic people or can they become other living things? Can they mimic animals? Can they become a boulder?” “I don’t know the extent,” Blade admitted.

  “If we took this one alive, we might be able to find out. Under proper restraint, perhaps we can put it to various tests.”

  Blade didn’t respond.

  “Then there are their masters, the Lords of Kismet. We know even less about them than we do about the Gualaon. In all your time away from the Home on missions for the allied factions, what did you learn about them?”

  “Their name,” Blade said, “and the fact they apparently control part of Asia and want to control the rest of the world as well.”

  “Which part?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How many Lords are there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are they human or otherwise?” Plato held up a hand, and grinned. “You don’t know. My point is that this Gaulaon must possess vital information about our enemies. Information crucial to preserving the Freedom Federation.”

  “If it still exists.”

  Plato grimly nodded. “That we haven’t been able to get in touch with them is deeply troubling. We’ve been conserving the few batteries we have left to power our radio, but even so, we try every night.” He paused. “What do you say? What are the chances of taking this creature alive?”

  “Monster, you mean,” Blade said, and shook his head. “I’d say the chances are next to nil.”

  “Explain.”

  “The Gualaon have a fanatical drive to succeed at all costs.”

  “And by succeed you mean to do as their masters bid them?”

  Blade nodded. “Not only that, they’re just too damn formidable. They’re stronger than we are. They have teeth and claws sharpers than our knives, and they’re quick as anything.”

  “As quick as Hickok, or, say, Yama or you?”

  “It’s close,” Blade said. “Then’s there’s the fact that surrendering isn’t in their nature. They’d rather go down taking as many enemies with them as they can instead of giving up.”

  “I see .” Plato rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “In that case, trying to take this being alive would be pointless. We’d lose too many of our own.” He sighed. “Very well. Carry on as you are. Don’t take any chances. Exterminate the creature without any qualms.”

  “There’s nothing I’d like more,” Blade said. “But first we have to find it. It could be hiding anywhere in the Home or outside of it, or—-”

  “Or,” Plato finished for him, “it could be any one of us, and we have no idea who.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The three Warriors of Omega Triad moved liked ghosts, gliding through the woods with no more noise than the sigh of the breeze. They had to. Their lives depended on their stealth.

  Like all the Triads, Omega trained hard together. They practiced and practiced until they moved and acted as one. Usually. On this particular morning, Ares stopped and looked back and whispered, “Sundance, close up. No more than ten feet, remember?”

  “I remember,” Sundance said.

  The three Warriors were a mismatched set.

  Ares was one of the tallest men in the Home. Topping out at six feet, three inches, he was lean and muscular. He wore a dark brown leather outfit patterned after the tunics worn by ancient Greeks. His red hair was cr
opped in a Mohawk similar to the crest on Greek helmets. A lot of Warriors liked bladed weapons as a backup, and his was a short sword, likewise patterned after the Greek style, which hung in a sheath at his hip. His primary weapon was a Colt AR-15.

  Helen had auburn hair, now tied back, and green eyes. In the hundred-year-plus history of the Family there had been many female Warriors, and she was considered one of the best. She favored a black leather vest, like Blade, but hers was cut low and bulged in a way Blade’s couldn’t. Her pants were also black leather, her short boots the same color . A pair of Caspian .45-caliber automatics were strapped around her waist. Above her left shoulder jutted the hilt of a 24-inch machete.

  Sundance wore his usual clothes, a grey shirt and grey pants. The shirt had wide lapels and black buttons. The pants flared at the bottom. In a shoulder holster under each arm was an L.A.R. Grizzly auto pistol chambered for the Winchester Magnum .45 cartridge, each with a seven-shot magazine. His black hair was trimmed neat around his ears, as was his mustache.

  The forest was unnaturally still. A century of the combined effects of radiation and the chemical and biological weapons unleashed during the war had resulted in a grotesque transformation.

  The plant life wasn’t as it had been before the Big Blast. Many of the trees, the bushes, even the grass, had mutated. There were oaks and maples and pine trees, as there had always been, but there were also trees of no known species , trees with bark that glowed and limbs that writhed like snakes, trees that exuded poisonous sap, trees that gave off an odor so foul, one whiff would make a person vomit. A new type of bush bristled with six-inch or longer thorns. And where before grass had been primarily green, now it was sometimes yellow and orange and red, and if you looked closely, you would see the blades move like so many small tentacles.

  So it wasn’t just the mutates and wild beasts and monsters the Warriors had to watch out for. They had to be on their guard against the plant life, too.

  The three Warriors came to the crest of the ridge that overlooked the next valley, and stopped.

  “And there they are,” Ares said.

  Helen put her hands on her hips and scowled. “I thought the Hunters said it was a small swarm?”

  “There are four hundred and twenty-seven of them,” Sundance said.