Chronicles of the Dead (Zombie Fic)
Posted: 2004-11-22 12:24am
I know, "Jesus will he ever finish what we want him to finish before going off on these maddening tangents?!" No.
Anyway inspired by watching the Dawn of the Dead remake recently (fucking AWESOME - you must watch it) and the various Zombie related threads of late sparked this little chestnut. Imagine Dawn of the Dead about 20-30 years later. What sort of society would surivive that armageddon? What would life be like with the dead walking around? And how can I make it exciting and interesting? Here's my take on that.
CHRONICLES OF THE DEAD
A Generation ago they say the dead began to walk. Some say it was a secret experiment gone awry, some say that hell was full and the dead were walking, others even suggested that a disease had arrived from outer space and caused the dead to no longer rest. Whatever the reason, mankind was swarmed by these walking dead, hungry for human flesh. These hungry dead were soon known as the accursed.
The great powers of the world were quickly consumed by the hordes. Their mighty cities fell to the dead onslaught and were now known as Necropoli. Man slipped down into the abyss of a new Dark Age - The Age of the Dead. Clustered in small fortified hamlets known as Bastions, man holds on, hoping against all hope for the Final Resting - a time when the accursed would be put back to rest and humanity could return to their rightful place in the world.
The Survivors learned to persevere in their harsh unforgiving world. Chief among these new survival tools was the establishment of the Cthonic cults and their Speakers with the Dead. The Speakers wield the remarkable ability to speak with and even control the accursed. Another group known as the Wayfarers were the warriors that survived the hordes wielding their peacebringers with deadly precision and masters of the double bladed fighting staffs known as glaives becoming the deadly defenders of the Bastions and the only ones brave enough to wander the wastes between the scattered survivor communities.
Now word comes down of a great warrior king in the North near the Necropolis of New York, Arthur Reyes who is striving to unite all banners to him as he prepares to retake the lands lost to the dead and return the dignity and glory of humanity. A summons has gone out for a gathering that may be the first steps to the Final Resting. The dead however still stalk the land and they stand between the summoned and their destination.
Chapter 1: Omens on Ravens’ Wings
The morning began with a funeral. Dreary and dull gray skies loomed overhead with an intimate intensity. The old woman was carried out in a burlap shroud. Chains and leather chords were wrapped tightly around her wizened frame and a stark leather and canvas gag framed her lips.
The chanting was soft and melodic. A small group of women and young girls followed the procession to the center of the square. Wooden houses lined up along the mud and cobblestone street.
Four strapping young men carried the old woman with a gentle but firm grip on her corpse while they walked with a steady and determined pace to the carefully constructed stack of wood and kindling. The mourners stood silently in neat rows as the corpse was laid out with gentle care onto the pyre.
A short slender woman in long green robes stepped out from the walking choir of women. She walked reverently to the corpse. An older man in a priest collar stepped out from the crowd and handed the short woman a rifle. She nodded to the man and stepped over to the corpse.
“Sister Heather McCoy. You have left us as the great wheel turns. The vow stands as always. The wheel turns and we will not allow you to join the shadow realm of the accursed. Let the blessed steel speed you on your way.” She intoned and snapped the rifle up to the woman’s forehead and fired.
The crowd did not react to the blast but a flock of crows burst out from the tree line.
She nodded to the four men as she snapped the rifle back up. They spilled kerosene over the kindling and ignited the pyre. The flames hungrily leapt up and began to consume the wrapped corpse of Heather McCoy.
The woman in the green robes stood reverently before the fires. The older man in the priest collar stood behind her.
“I assume you will accept the summons?”
“You speak for this Arthur Reyes?”
The older man nodded.
“He was there at the Battle of Camden, defeated the Horde from the Necropolis of Philadelphia.”
“Battles mean little to me. Sounds like another strong man, a would be king of kings, a general from the First Days thinking he can remake the old world.” She replied bitterly.
The older man nodded.
“I understand your reticence Speaker but that Horde would have overrun this Bastion in short order if not for him and his warriors.”
“You admire him.” She noted as she looked back at him.
The older man smiled softly.
“If you meet him you would as well.”
She smirked.
“I will tell you the truth Father Shaw, I find it presumptuous of him to make this summons. He has not been acclaimed and he has no power over us to require our attendance.”
Father Shaw sighed softly.
“He is not demanding anyone to come. He has asked all the Speakers to come to Avalon for discussions. I believe he wants to unite all the Bastions under his banner.”
“And why should I even entertain the notion? I have more then enough to do here. Andersonville needs me. You need me. My place is here not hundreds of miles to the north through accursed held lands.”
“I understand your concern but this is too important for us to ignore. I’ve had the Wayfarers spreading the word that every bastion between here and as far north as Boston sending their Speakers. There are even rumors of some coming from as far south as Washington.”
“Washington? Are you sure?” She asked incredulously. The Bastions in other states may have well been on other worlds as far as most were concerned. Only the Wayfarers dared travel more than half a day out from the home Bastion for fear of the dead.
“The Wayfarers have been in constant communication on the road. Aaron is due any moment with word from the Redrock Bastion to the West. They are our closest ally and if they are sending their Speaker then we must.” Shaw urged.
“If I am to go then what will I do for security?”
“If you go, I assume it will be one of mine that accompanies you.” A new voice interjected.
Shaw’s face brightened as the new comer stepped past the burning pyre, taking a moment to cross himself as he passed and approached as them.
“Aaron, I have been expecting you.”
Dianna glanced over at the tall slim man in a filthy dark brown duster. He wore two 9mm pistols in a cross over pattern on his belt as well as the ubiquitous glaive saddled in a holster on his hip. The fighting staff when fully extended could span nearly two meters, edged on each end with razor sharp steel for encounters with the dead when too close or crowded to use the peacebringers. The 9mm glocks as they were called in the First Days. Now modified and decorated with the stylized skulls of the cult in the hands of the legendary Wayfarers they were known as the Peacebringers. As in making sure the accursed rested in peace. The ancient enemy was vulnerable to any wound to the head, it was the only thing that could stop those that had already died. He wore a thick chain mail shirt beneath the duster and he quickly slipped off one of his chain mail gloves to take Father Shaw’s hand and grip it in welcome.
The wayfarers knew that even the smallest scratch from one of the walking dead would sicken and eventually kill them and worst of all join the ranks of the very accursed that they spent their lives fighting.
“Wayfarer.” She bowed her head respectively.
“Speaker.” He returned the bow curtly almost as an afterthought.
Aaron was an older man, steel gray iron flecked his temples and his face was weathered with nearly a generation of elements, time and battle. His hazel eyes were dark and stormy and he moved with a dangerous grace, like that of a big cat.
“Any word?”
“It’s like you called it Father. Washington is definitely sending Speakers and Redrock confirmed that their Speaker already left yesterday.
“The roads?”
“As best they can be considering the Highway Authority hasn’t visited them in nearly thirsty years.” He answered with a snort.
Dianna was always at a loss to deal with his casual references to the First times. He lived them as a soldier as many of the veteran members of the wayfarers. He found his calling early on, joining the ranks of the blessed warriors at the dawn of the Age of the Dead.
She had only been initiated in the great cycle’s secrets for five years. She always had the impression that the older man had little respect for her and her beliefs.
“And the accursed?”
Aaron glanced down at her, he literally towered over the small slight woman in her furs and cloak.
“They are as they always have been Speaker. They’re where you don’t want or expect them but they certainly aren’t out there in numbers that we should be worried about.”
“So their numbers have thinned over time as we expected.” Father Shaw noted hopefully.
Aaron nodded but held up a hand.
“Let’s not go jumping to any conclusions. Even I don’t go gallivanting around the Necropoli. All it takes is one large group and you’re as good as dead.”
“So you think the risk is unacceptable?” Dianna pressed.
Aaron frowned.
“If it were up to me we would all be staying right here. A several hundred mile trek up to one of the largest known Necropoli in the United States is not exactly my idea of risk free.” He replied grimly. His eyes wandered over to the pyre.
“When did Heather go?” He asked suddenly curious. Something bothered him from the moment he walked into the Bastion. It was an odd lingering sense of tension and apprehension gnawing at him.
“Last night. She was out gathering some wood and she tripped over a rock. Best we can tell she landed wrong, breaking her neck. She did not suffer.” Shaw explained.
Aaron’s eyes narrowed.
“I saw some children out by the north ridge.”
“Yes, they are picking berries. It’s safe, we haven’t spotted any of the accursed for weeks anywhere near Andersonville.”
“Heather was lying out there for a couple of hours before you found her. These bastards can smell a meal for miles away.” Aaron snapped and turned on his heel to stride out of the Bastion’s high gates.
“Wait!”
Shaw turned to the people watching the pyre.
“Get your weapons. The children out by the north ridge may be in trouble.”
The Bastion was quickly in motion.
Dianna rushed after Aaron who was moving faster than she imagined he could.
“I would know if they were close by.” She shouted after him.
Aaron stopped at the gate as he pulled out one of his peacemakers and checked the weapon.
“I suppose that your sense is infallible?” He asked pointedly.
“Nothing is infallible but…” she paused as she felt her stomach turn and a wave of nausea wash over her.
Aaron saw her sudden change of expression.
“Fuck!” He shouted and raced out of the Bastion. A child’s scream accompanied the sounds of his footfalls out into the wilderness. Dianna hurried after him, holding her robes hems up with one hand as she ran and fumbling for her medallion with the other.
Aaron moved like a blur through the woods, silent and intense, a pistol in one hand. His pace quickened if that were possible when they saw movement at the edge of the tree line.
She could already feel them, now she could smell them. The children’s screams were loud and piercing, full of fear. They were too young to face what was inevitably there.
Suddenly three small shapes burst out in Aaron’s path. Aaron froze instantly and his peacemaker snapped into a killing shot angle. He stopped himself at the last second.
Three children crowded around him, holding on, clawing on to him in absolute terror.
“What is it? How many?” He demanded roughly.
The children continued screaming.
Dianna finally reached him and now she could hear the accursed. They were howling, angry and hungry and they were loud.
She grabbed a firm hold of the children and pulled them away from Aaron. One of the boys exclaimed “Sandra is still up there!” She roughly inspected them for markings and wounds. She glanced up at Aaron to urge him to go but he was already in motion.
The company from Andersonville was loudly approaching. She checked over the last child then urged them to run back towards the Bastion as she picked up her robes again and raced after Aaron.
The first shot snapped loudly ahead. She rounded a large tree and saw them before she saw Aaron. Five of them were screaming like animals, clawing up at a tree as a small girl huddled for safety on the tallest branch of the tree. A shape lay prone over one of the big roots of the tree.
The accursed resembled people but upon closer inspection one saw the rotted flesh, the dried blood, the tattered clothes and the animal passion in their empty eyes and their true state was clearly evident. They moved with a wild reckless abandon, as if their limbs were lighter than air and their voices were nothing more than hoarse screams, howls and roars.
Aaron took aim again and another of the accursed fell, head exploded like an overripe melon.
The girl squealed in terror as the branch began to give way under her weight. One of the accursed leapt eagerly up at her. Its tattered clothing was rotted and stained with the elements, blood and gore.
The remaining accursed turned like a pack of dogs and rushed towards Aaron without hesitation. Aaron stood his ground, feet widely spaced apart and aimed coolly. There was no fear or hesitation. Three rapid quick shots and the three rushing accursed fell one after the other in line. The last one collapsed a mere arm’s length from Aaron.
The wayfarer began to aim again when he heard the rustle of the underbrush to his left and did not pause as he turned at his waist and unloaded another volley of shots at the roaring shapes exploding out towards him in a frenzy of teeth gnashing and wind milling arms.
Three more of the accursed were nearly on top of him.
Dianna wanted to help him somehow but the focus of her attention had to turn to the child. She rushed over to the tree as the remaining accursed trying to feed on the child reached out closer to his intended prey and the audible creaking of the wood grew alarmingly ominous.
“You!” She shouted in a commanding tone.
It turned suddenly and with a fury that was frightening. But she was ready for it. The accursed held no fear for her. She had grown up around their secrets and filth. Trained to view them as just another agent of the great wheel as she ascended through the circles of mystery this confrontation was not the one sided fight that would normally occur between an unarmed woman her size and one of the accursed.
She knew their secrets and so she was powerful.
It sneered at her, teeth caked with blood and puss, eyes hungrily searching for the source of the voice. Its empty gray eyes focused on her.
“You!” She hissed loudly but there was an odd treble in her voice, gently throbbing beneath the words.
The accursed began to lunge forward but paused as if it heard something. The accursed cocked its head curiously and tried to focus on the alien sound.
“You will not touch me.” She said coldly, the treble increasing. The accursed howled angrily at her when it finally realized it could not move against her. It spun its head in frenzy, looking down at its feet as if it could find what was holding it down.
“You cannot touch me.” She ordered angrily and slowly circled around the frozen accursed. As she circled the frozen creature she saw Aaron out of the corner of her eye as he cursed loudly and dropped his Peacebringer and reached for his Glaive.
The wayfarer knew when he was in trouble. The accursed were right on top of him. His first volley tore through their bodies but missed their heads and there was little time to aim and fire again. He needed to turn to his glaive, the weapon of the wayfarer designed for just this kind of engagement. When the accursed were too close to simply blast away you needed a weapon that could keep them away and deal a death blow.
He sidestepped the first lunging accursed as he hit the hidden stud in his glaive’s hilt. Razor sharp blades extended and snapped out from each end of the glaive.
Here’s the trick. He thought grimly. He stepped into the second accursed and rolled it up on his shoulder, he could feel its fetid breath as it rolled over its back and landed unsteadily behind him. He swung the glaive forward right though the third accursed’s head and neck, rewarded with a spray of coagulated blood. The other end of his glaive simultaneously stabbed right through the small of the accursed’s back and he drove it down to its knees using the glaive and his own weight.
The first accursed he sidestepped turned on him.
“C’mon you motherfucker.” Aaron smiled grimly. There was a certain exhilaration to any combat against the accursed where one survived that no long years of experience would ever change.
The accursed screamed and charge with arms wide open. Aaron stepped on the pinned accursed and withdrew the glaive, sweeping it in front of him. There was a solid CHOK of steel cutting through flesh. The charging accursed’s screaming stopped suddenly. It continued stumbling forward headless, a geyser of blood flowing from the neatly severed neck. He stabbed the glaive back down through the back of the head of the prone accursed.
It stopped struggling nearly instantly.
Aaron took a breath and a moment to gather his wits and bearings.
He saw the last filthy accursed trying to attack the priestess. He drew his other Peacebringer and aimed carefully. The priestess was close and the thing was struggling valiantly to take a step towards her.
He admired her for a moment. These witches were so comfortable around these dead things. They had no fear. He supposed when you discovered tricks to help you control or keep them at bay you could afford to lose some fear of the accursed but it was his view that any fear of these things was a healthy fear.
He always knew when a Wayfarer was close to losing it all on the road. When they lost that healthy fear and respect for the accursed that was the first steps to a mishap. The accursed were instant death and worse. He would never understand the Cthonic cults or their ease with these creatures.
They should never be toyed with, never be controlled, manipulated or studied. There were only two things that an accursed deserved - your fear and your steel to speed them on their way.
The accursed tried one more time to lunge out at her as she bravely stood her ground, fur lines cloak fluttering in the wind.
The blast took the back of the accursed head’s off and it fell forward like a fallen tree. Aaron holstered his peacebringer then pressed the hidden stud on his glaive. The bladed ends of the glaive retreated back into the handle with a quiet pneumatic hiss. He holstered his glaive in one smooth motion as he approached the witch and the fallen youngster.
“Is she alright?” He called out.
Dianna immediately moved towards the young girl. She helped her up with one hand while carefully inspected the child.
She stopped short and Aaron’s trot stopped as well when he saw her reaction.
Dianna saw the three small scratch marks on the child’s calf.
She prayed to the goddess as she looked closer.
Behind her the crowds of people from the Bastion were rushing into the clearing. The parents of the children were clutching them to their breasts as they approached the clearing. The pair that were missing their child stood still in fear and anxiety as they noted the priestess’ close attention to their daughter.
Aaron shook his head slowly and waved the people back.
Dianna stood up after smelling the wound. There was no doubt.
She ran her fingers through the child’s hair as she stood by her and motioned for the sisters to come closer. Her attendants quickly approached bearing her staff. They handed her staff to her and circled the child.
Aaron heard the mother’s scream of anguish. She knew. Anyone that lived long enough in the Bastions knew what this meant. Knew what the Speakers did not gather around someone like this when they were well. Clean and untouched.
The mother pleaded for her daughter but there could be no brooking of the ancient rules. The daughter was marked. Anyone that came in contact with her save for the prepared like the Speakers were marked as well. Only the blessed steel remained now to speed her on her way.
Father Shaw quickly approached and the Speakers formed a phalanx around the child who was crying out for her mother.
“Dianna…”
The priestess held up her hand. She bore the mantle of her power now, her staff and robes, her talisman around her neck clearly displayed.
“Do not interfere, Father. This child is no longer of the wheel.”
“At least let her speak to the parents.” Shaw asked quietly as he drew closer.
Dianna shook her head emphatically.
“There can be no breaching of the ancient accords. They helped keep us alive, it is because of the accords that these Bastions now flourish. Once we begin to make exceptions it is only a matter of time until the accursed touches one of our own within the walls. Once that happens then we all die. Their pain is insignificant in the face of that possibility.”
“They say the Cults can be cruel in their logic.” Shaw said sadly.
“No crueler than the promise of a life eternal that you cannot prove, Father.”
“And I assume your dark secrets can be as comforting then?” Shaw asked tightly.
Dianna shook her head. She did not meant to lash out at him in this manner but the day was young and she was attending two deaths when there had been none in many months.
“This is not a theological debate father. This is the law. She must be sped on her way.”
“That would be my job, Speaker.” Aaron interjected sternly as he stepped past Father Shaw.
Dianna blinked uncertainly.
“What?”
“That code you love to quote clearly places the peace bringing into my purview. She is to be attended to by you and your sisters after I am done to make sure all is within the codes. But the speeding is to be done by the Wayfarer.”
“None of you have ever exercised your rights here in many years, Wayfarer.” Dianna protested.
Aaron walked right up to Dianna, towering over her and then gently held out his hand to the child.
“The law has been silent but not forgotten.” Aaron replied.
Dianna cocked her head slightly.
“In the end, she’s mine. Let her go in peace and not flocked by you vultures in furs.” Aaron stated. The girl hesitantly placed her hand in his.
“This is highly irregular. Why now?” Dianna demanded.
“I don’t expect you to understand.” Aaron replied and then glanced down at the girl and smiled softly. “C’mon honey. We have to go somewhere.”
“I’m cold.” She whispered.
Aaron could feel the sorrow burning in his eyes. He would pay for this dearly later tonight, when he was alone.
“That’s Ok, honey. It won’t take long.” Aaron soothed and pulled her out of the circle. He walked her past Shaw and paused.
“Be gentle.” Shaw asked quietly, tears welling in his eyes.
“What I’ll never understand, Father, is that after all you’ve seen and done that you can still be moved like this. That’s why you were always the best choice for this Bastion’s leader.”
“I could say the same about you my son.”
Aaron said nothing as he walked her back into the woods.
“Where is he taking her? What is he doing?!” Her mother called out in near hysterics as the father tried to calm her.
Dianna stared after him for a long moment before returning her attention to Shaw.
“That was unlike him. He hasn’t cared about exercising his authority in these matters for so long.”
“He had a daughter in the Old World. He never knew what became of her but we all imagine what happened to our loved ones. I think that every time he speeds a child on her way he imagines that he is doing the same for his daughter.”
Dianna looked back into the woods and said nothing.
“We’re going pretty far.” The girl noted as hey wound their way through the trees and rocks.
“It’s not much farther, I promise.”
She shyly looked up at his imposing figure and down at her leg.
“I know what you’re going to do, you know.” She said quietly. Aaron said nothing but nodded.
“See, we’re here.”
The creek ran swiftly before their feet. The water was clear and it sparkled in the morning sun. He indicated a place for her to sit. She obediently took her place and he sat slightly behind her after adjusting his long duster.
“I don’t want to die.” She gasped suddenly gripped by fear.
Aaron placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I know what I’m supposed to tell you, I know I’m supposed to make you feel good by telling you that the steel will speed you on your way. I know that it doesn’t mean shit to a young child like you. I know you want to run and play with your friends and dance in the grass.”
She quietly sobbed and nodded.
“I know that you want to run to your mommy and daddy right now and wish you could never have to think about this again.”
She sobbed louder and nodded.
“But what will happen instead honey is that within a few hours or days you will die. It will be painful and cruel. You will wish for death near the end and then the worst part of it is that after you get your wish you’ll come back again. You will be hungry and rabid and you will attack and eat anyone that gets in your path, your mommy, daddy, and friends. It won’t matter to you. You will make them like you and in the end you will rot away and become a ghastly monster that others will loathe and fear.”
“I don’t want to become that!” She exclaimed.
Aaron nodded.
“Neither did my little girl or my wife honey. That’s why I’m here to help you as best I can and the only comfort I have is this.” He cocked back the glock and let her see it. He slowly and deliberately placed it against the back of her head.
“Is there a heaven?” She asked in a clear calm voice.
“I don’t know sweetheart.” Aaron replied. He waited a long moment, listening to the creek and the rustling of leaves in the wind. “But if there was one I assure you that you would be there and I would not.” He said.
The report was sharp and loud.
The gathering in the clearing heard it and many jumped. The mother screamed a long mournful cry of anguish and collapsed in her husband’s arms. Dianna gathered her cloak around her.
“Bring the child into the temple when he releases her to us. There are rites to be said.” She sighed and walked with Shaw back to the Bastion. As they walked she watched the older man. She in turn also watched the faces of many as they walked back. There was darkness in their eyes, long shadows across their faces, shuffling in their steps.
“The people look sorrowful. Listless.”
“There is very little hope these days. We always assumed that when enough time passed the accursed would rot away. We were very wrong. A day like today reminds them very brutally of where we stand. We are always waiting to die. That leaves very little room for hope.” Shaw explained.
Dianna nodded slowly. Hope - The one emotion that did not last very long at all in this place.
“The summons.” She said after walking in silence for a few minutes. The Bastion loomed ahead.
“Yes?” Shaw replied neutrally.
“I will go.” She relented.
“Then perhaps things are not all bad. There is always hope.” Shaw concluded.
Dianna looked up at the sudden cawing of the crows and watched a flight of the inky black birds soaring out of the trees around them and flapping frantically north. Her eyes narrowed on the sight.
“Unfortunately father the omens say otherwise.” Dianna murmured.
The crows slowly faded away north, precisely in the direction where she was to go.
Anyway inspired by watching the Dawn of the Dead remake recently (fucking AWESOME - you must watch it) and the various Zombie related threads of late sparked this little chestnut. Imagine Dawn of the Dead about 20-30 years later. What sort of society would surivive that armageddon? What would life be like with the dead walking around? And how can I make it exciting and interesting? Here's my take on that.
CHRONICLES OF THE DEAD
A Generation ago they say the dead began to walk. Some say it was a secret experiment gone awry, some say that hell was full and the dead were walking, others even suggested that a disease had arrived from outer space and caused the dead to no longer rest. Whatever the reason, mankind was swarmed by these walking dead, hungry for human flesh. These hungry dead were soon known as the accursed.
The great powers of the world were quickly consumed by the hordes. Their mighty cities fell to the dead onslaught and were now known as Necropoli. Man slipped down into the abyss of a new Dark Age - The Age of the Dead. Clustered in small fortified hamlets known as Bastions, man holds on, hoping against all hope for the Final Resting - a time when the accursed would be put back to rest and humanity could return to their rightful place in the world.
The Survivors learned to persevere in their harsh unforgiving world. Chief among these new survival tools was the establishment of the Cthonic cults and their Speakers with the Dead. The Speakers wield the remarkable ability to speak with and even control the accursed. Another group known as the Wayfarers were the warriors that survived the hordes wielding their peacebringers with deadly precision and masters of the double bladed fighting staffs known as glaives becoming the deadly defenders of the Bastions and the only ones brave enough to wander the wastes between the scattered survivor communities.
Now word comes down of a great warrior king in the North near the Necropolis of New York, Arthur Reyes who is striving to unite all banners to him as he prepares to retake the lands lost to the dead and return the dignity and glory of humanity. A summons has gone out for a gathering that may be the first steps to the Final Resting. The dead however still stalk the land and they stand between the summoned and their destination.
Chapter 1: Omens on Ravens’ Wings
The morning began with a funeral. Dreary and dull gray skies loomed overhead with an intimate intensity. The old woman was carried out in a burlap shroud. Chains and leather chords were wrapped tightly around her wizened frame and a stark leather and canvas gag framed her lips.
The chanting was soft and melodic. A small group of women and young girls followed the procession to the center of the square. Wooden houses lined up along the mud and cobblestone street.
Four strapping young men carried the old woman with a gentle but firm grip on her corpse while they walked with a steady and determined pace to the carefully constructed stack of wood and kindling. The mourners stood silently in neat rows as the corpse was laid out with gentle care onto the pyre.
A short slender woman in long green robes stepped out from the walking choir of women. She walked reverently to the corpse. An older man in a priest collar stepped out from the crowd and handed the short woman a rifle. She nodded to the man and stepped over to the corpse.
“Sister Heather McCoy. You have left us as the great wheel turns. The vow stands as always. The wheel turns and we will not allow you to join the shadow realm of the accursed. Let the blessed steel speed you on your way.” She intoned and snapped the rifle up to the woman’s forehead and fired.
The crowd did not react to the blast but a flock of crows burst out from the tree line.
She nodded to the four men as she snapped the rifle back up. They spilled kerosene over the kindling and ignited the pyre. The flames hungrily leapt up and began to consume the wrapped corpse of Heather McCoy.
The woman in the green robes stood reverently before the fires. The older man in the priest collar stood behind her.
“I assume you will accept the summons?”
“You speak for this Arthur Reyes?”
The older man nodded.
“He was there at the Battle of Camden, defeated the Horde from the Necropolis of Philadelphia.”
“Battles mean little to me. Sounds like another strong man, a would be king of kings, a general from the First Days thinking he can remake the old world.” She replied bitterly.
The older man nodded.
“I understand your reticence Speaker but that Horde would have overrun this Bastion in short order if not for him and his warriors.”
“You admire him.” She noted as she looked back at him.
The older man smiled softly.
“If you meet him you would as well.”
She smirked.
“I will tell you the truth Father Shaw, I find it presumptuous of him to make this summons. He has not been acclaimed and he has no power over us to require our attendance.”
Father Shaw sighed softly.
“He is not demanding anyone to come. He has asked all the Speakers to come to Avalon for discussions. I believe he wants to unite all the Bastions under his banner.”
“And why should I even entertain the notion? I have more then enough to do here. Andersonville needs me. You need me. My place is here not hundreds of miles to the north through accursed held lands.”
“I understand your concern but this is too important for us to ignore. I’ve had the Wayfarers spreading the word that every bastion between here and as far north as Boston sending their Speakers. There are even rumors of some coming from as far south as Washington.”
“Washington? Are you sure?” She asked incredulously. The Bastions in other states may have well been on other worlds as far as most were concerned. Only the Wayfarers dared travel more than half a day out from the home Bastion for fear of the dead.
“The Wayfarers have been in constant communication on the road. Aaron is due any moment with word from the Redrock Bastion to the West. They are our closest ally and if they are sending their Speaker then we must.” Shaw urged.
“If I am to go then what will I do for security?”
“If you go, I assume it will be one of mine that accompanies you.” A new voice interjected.
Shaw’s face brightened as the new comer stepped past the burning pyre, taking a moment to cross himself as he passed and approached as them.
“Aaron, I have been expecting you.”
Dianna glanced over at the tall slim man in a filthy dark brown duster. He wore two 9mm pistols in a cross over pattern on his belt as well as the ubiquitous glaive saddled in a holster on his hip. The fighting staff when fully extended could span nearly two meters, edged on each end with razor sharp steel for encounters with the dead when too close or crowded to use the peacebringers. The 9mm glocks as they were called in the First Days. Now modified and decorated with the stylized skulls of the cult in the hands of the legendary Wayfarers they were known as the Peacebringers. As in making sure the accursed rested in peace. The ancient enemy was vulnerable to any wound to the head, it was the only thing that could stop those that had already died. He wore a thick chain mail shirt beneath the duster and he quickly slipped off one of his chain mail gloves to take Father Shaw’s hand and grip it in welcome.
The wayfarers knew that even the smallest scratch from one of the walking dead would sicken and eventually kill them and worst of all join the ranks of the very accursed that they spent their lives fighting.
“Wayfarer.” She bowed her head respectively.
“Speaker.” He returned the bow curtly almost as an afterthought.
Aaron was an older man, steel gray iron flecked his temples and his face was weathered with nearly a generation of elements, time and battle. His hazel eyes were dark and stormy and he moved with a dangerous grace, like that of a big cat.
“Any word?”
“It’s like you called it Father. Washington is definitely sending Speakers and Redrock confirmed that their Speaker already left yesterday.
“The roads?”
“As best they can be considering the Highway Authority hasn’t visited them in nearly thirsty years.” He answered with a snort.
Dianna was always at a loss to deal with his casual references to the First times. He lived them as a soldier as many of the veteran members of the wayfarers. He found his calling early on, joining the ranks of the blessed warriors at the dawn of the Age of the Dead.
She had only been initiated in the great cycle’s secrets for five years. She always had the impression that the older man had little respect for her and her beliefs.
“And the accursed?”
Aaron glanced down at her, he literally towered over the small slight woman in her furs and cloak.
“They are as they always have been Speaker. They’re where you don’t want or expect them but they certainly aren’t out there in numbers that we should be worried about.”
“So their numbers have thinned over time as we expected.” Father Shaw noted hopefully.
Aaron nodded but held up a hand.
“Let’s not go jumping to any conclusions. Even I don’t go gallivanting around the Necropoli. All it takes is one large group and you’re as good as dead.”
“So you think the risk is unacceptable?” Dianna pressed.
Aaron frowned.
“If it were up to me we would all be staying right here. A several hundred mile trek up to one of the largest known Necropoli in the United States is not exactly my idea of risk free.” He replied grimly. His eyes wandered over to the pyre.
“When did Heather go?” He asked suddenly curious. Something bothered him from the moment he walked into the Bastion. It was an odd lingering sense of tension and apprehension gnawing at him.
“Last night. She was out gathering some wood and she tripped over a rock. Best we can tell she landed wrong, breaking her neck. She did not suffer.” Shaw explained.
Aaron’s eyes narrowed.
“I saw some children out by the north ridge.”
“Yes, they are picking berries. It’s safe, we haven’t spotted any of the accursed for weeks anywhere near Andersonville.”
“Heather was lying out there for a couple of hours before you found her. These bastards can smell a meal for miles away.” Aaron snapped and turned on his heel to stride out of the Bastion’s high gates.
“Wait!”
Shaw turned to the people watching the pyre.
“Get your weapons. The children out by the north ridge may be in trouble.”
The Bastion was quickly in motion.
Dianna rushed after Aaron who was moving faster than she imagined he could.
“I would know if they were close by.” She shouted after him.
Aaron stopped at the gate as he pulled out one of his peacemakers and checked the weapon.
“I suppose that your sense is infallible?” He asked pointedly.
“Nothing is infallible but…” she paused as she felt her stomach turn and a wave of nausea wash over her.
Aaron saw her sudden change of expression.
“Fuck!” He shouted and raced out of the Bastion. A child’s scream accompanied the sounds of his footfalls out into the wilderness. Dianna hurried after him, holding her robes hems up with one hand as she ran and fumbling for her medallion with the other.
Aaron moved like a blur through the woods, silent and intense, a pistol in one hand. His pace quickened if that were possible when they saw movement at the edge of the tree line.
She could already feel them, now she could smell them. The children’s screams were loud and piercing, full of fear. They were too young to face what was inevitably there.
Suddenly three small shapes burst out in Aaron’s path. Aaron froze instantly and his peacemaker snapped into a killing shot angle. He stopped himself at the last second.
Three children crowded around him, holding on, clawing on to him in absolute terror.
“What is it? How many?” He demanded roughly.
The children continued screaming.
Dianna finally reached him and now she could hear the accursed. They were howling, angry and hungry and they were loud.
She grabbed a firm hold of the children and pulled them away from Aaron. One of the boys exclaimed “Sandra is still up there!” She roughly inspected them for markings and wounds. She glanced up at Aaron to urge him to go but he was already in motion.
The company from Andersonville was loudly approaching. She checked over the last child then urged them to run back towards the Bastion as she picked up her robes again and raced after Aaron.
The first shot snapped loudly ahead. She rounded a large tree and saw them before she saw Aaron. Five of them were screaming like animals, clawing up at a tree as a small girl huddled for safety on the tallest branch of the tree. A shape lay prone over one of the big roots of the tree.
The accursed resembled people but upon closer inspection one saw the rotted flesh, the dried blood, the tattered clothes and the animal passion in their empty eyes and their true state was clearly evident. They moved with a wild reckless abandon, as if their limbs were lighter than air and their voices were nothing more than hoarse screams, howls and roars.
Aaron took aim again and another of the accursed fell, head exploded like an overripe melon.
The girl squealed in terror as the branch began to give way under her weight. One of the accursed leapt eagerly up at her. Its tattered clothing was rotted and stained with the elements, blood and gore.
The remaining accursed turned like a pack of dogs and rushed towards Aaron without hesitation. Aaron stood his ground, feet widely spaced apart and aimed coolly. There was no fear or hesitation. Three rapid quick shots and the three rushing accursed fell one after the other in line. The last one collapsed a mere arm’s length from Aaron.
The wayfarer began to aim again when he heard the rustle of the underbrush to his left and did not pause as he turned at his waist and unloaded another volley of shots at the roaring shapes exploding out towards him in a frenzy of teeth gnashing and wind milling arms.
Three more of the accursed were nearly on top of him.
Dianna wanted to help him somehow but the focus of her attention had to turn to the child. She rushed over to the tree as the remaining accursed trying to feed on the child reached out closer to his intended prey and the audible creaking of the wood grew alarmingly ominous.
“You!” She shouted in a commanding tone.
It turned suddenly and with a fury that was frightening. But she was ready for it. The accursed held no fear for her. She had grown up around their secrets and filth. Trained to view them as just another agent of the great wheel as she ascended through the circles of mystery this confrontation was not the one sided fight that would normally occur between an unarmed woman her size and one of the accursed.
She knew their secrets and so she was powerful.
It sneered at her, teeth caked with blood and puss, eyes hungrily searching for the source of the voice. Its empty gray eyes focused on her.
“You!” She hissed loudly but there was an odd treble in her voice, gently throbbing beneath the words.
The accursed began to lunge forward but paused as if it heard something. The accursed cocked its head curiously and tried to focus on the alien sound.
“You will not touch me.” She said coldly, the treble increasing. The accursed howled angrily at her when it finally realized it could not move against her. It spun its head in frenzy, looking down at its feet as if it could find what was holding it down.
“You cannot touch me.” She ordered angrily and slowly circled around the frozen accursed. As she circled the frozen creature she saw Aaron out of the corner of her eye as he cursed loudly and dropped his Peacebringer and reached for his Glaive.
The wayfarer knew when he was in trouble. The accursed were right on top of him. His first volley tore through their bodies but missed their heads and there was little time to aim and fire again. He needed to turn to his glaive, the weapon of the wayfarer designed for just this kind of engagement. When the accursed were too close to simply blast away you needed a weapon that could keep them away and deal a death blow.
He sidestepped the first lunging accursed as he hit the hidden stud in his glaive’s hilt. Razor sharp blades extended and snapped out from each end of the glaive.
Here’s the trick. He thought grimly. He stepped into the second accursed and rolled it up on his shoulder, he could feel its fetid breath as it rolled over its back and landed unsteadily behind him. He swung the glaive forward right though the third accursed’s head and neck, rewarded with a spray of coagulated blood. The other end of his glaive simultaneously stabbed right through the small of the accursed’s back and he drove it down to its knees using the glaive and his own weight.
The first accursed he sidestepped turned on him.
“C’mon you motherfucker.” Aaron smiled grimly. There was a certain exhilaration to any combat against the accursed where one survived that no long years of experience would ever change.
The accursed screamed and charge with arms wide open. Aaron stepped on the pinned accursed and withdrew the glaive, sweeping it in front of him. There was a solid CHOK of steel cutting through flesh. The charging accursed’s screaming stopped suddenly. It continued stumbling forward headless, a geyser of blood flowing from the neatly severed neck. He stabbed the glaive back down through the back of the head of the prone accursed.
It stopped struggling nearly instantly.
Aaron took a breath and a moment to gather his wits and bearings.
He saw the last filthy accursed trying to attack the priestess. He drew his other Peacebringer and aimed carefully. The priestess was close and the thing was struggling valiantly to take a step towards her.
He admired her for a moment. These witches were so comfortable around these dead things. They had no fear. He supposed when you discovered tricks to help you control or keep them at bay you could afford to lose some fear of the accursed but it was his view that any fear of these things was a healthy fear.
He always knew when a Wayfarer was close to losing it all on the road. When they lost that healthy fear and respect for the accursed that was the first steps to a mishap. The accursed were instant death and worse. He would never understand the Cthonic cults or their ease with these creatures.
They should never be toyed with, never be controlled, manipulated or studied. There were only two things that an accursed deserved - your fear and your steel to speed them on their way.
The accursed tried one more time to lunge out at her as she bravely stood her ground, fur lines cloak fluttering in the wind.
The blast took the back of the accursed head’s off and it fell forward like a fallen tree. Aaron holstered his peacebringer then pressed the hidden stud on his glaive. The bladed ends of the glaive retreated back into the handle with a quiet pneumatic hiss. He holstered his glaive in one smooth motion as he approached the witch and the fallen youngster.
“Is she alright?” He called out.
Dianna immediately moved towards the young girl. She helped her up with one hand while carefully inspected the child.
She stopped short and Aaron’s trot stopped as well when he saw her reaction.
Dianna saw the three small scratch marks on the child’s calf.
She prayed to the goddess as she looked closer.
Behind her the crowds of people from the Bastion were rushing into the clearing. The parents of the children were clutching them to their breasts as they approached the clearing. The pair that were missing their child stood still in fear and anxiety as they noted the priestess’ close attention to their daughter.
Aaron shook his head slowly and waved the people back.
Dianna stood up after smelling the wound. There was no doubt.
She ran her fingers through the child’s hair as she stood by her and motioned for the sisters to come closer. Her attendants quickly approached bearing her staff. They handed her staff to her and circled the child.
Aaron heard the mother’s scream of anguish. She knew. Anyone that lived long enough in the Bastions knew what this meant. Knew what the Speakers did not gather around someone like this when they were well. Clean and untouched.
The mother pleaded for her daughter but there could be no brooking of the ancient rules. The daughter was marked. Anyone that came in contact with her save for the prepared like the Speakers were marked as well. Only the blessed steel remained now to speed her on her way.
Father Shaw quickly approached and the Speakers formed a phalanx around the child who was crying out for her mother.
“Dianna…”
The priestess held up her hand. She bore the mantle of her power now, her staff and robes, her talisman around her neck clearly displayed.
“Do not interfere, Father. This child is no longer of the wheel.”
“At least let her speak to the parents.” Shaw asked quietly as he drew closer.
Dianna shook her head emphatically.
“There can be no breaching of the ancient accords. They helped keep us alive, it is because of the accords that these Bastions now flourish. Once we begin to make exceptions it is only a matter of time until the accursed touches one of our own within the walls. Once that happens then we all die. Their pain is insignificant in the face of that possibility.”
“They say the Cults can be cruel in their logic.” Shaw said sadly.
“No crueler than the promise of a life eternal that you cannot prove, Father.”
“And I assume your dark secrets can be as comforting then?” Shaw asked tightly.
Dianna shook her head. She did not meant to lash out at him in this manner but the day was young and she was attending two deaths when there had been none in many months.
“This is not a theological debate father. This is the law. She must be sped on her way.”
“That would be my job, Speaker.” Aaron interjected sternly as he stepped past Father Shaw.
Dianna blinked uncertainly.
“What?”
“That code you love to quote clearly places the peace bringing into my purview. She is to be attended to by you and your sisters after I am done to make sure all is within the codes. But the speeding is to be done by the Wayfarer.”
“None of you have ever exercised your rights here in many years, Wayfarer.” Dianna protested.
Aaron walked right up to Dianna, towering over her and then gently held out his hand to the child.
“The law has been silent but not forgotten.” Aaron replied.
Dianna cocked her head slightly.
“In the end, she’s mine. Let her go in peace and not flocked by you vultures in furs.” Aaron stated. The girl hesitantly placed her hand in his.
“This is highly irregular. Why now?” Dianna demanded.
“I don’t expect you to understand.” Aaron replied and then glanced down at the girl and smiled softly. “C’mon honey. We have to go somewhere.”
“I’m cold.” She whispered.
Aaron could feel the sorrow burning in his eyes. He would pay for this dearly later tonight, when he was alone.
“That’s Ok, honey. It won’t take long.” Aaron soothed and pulled her out of the circle. He walked her past Shaw and paused.
“Be gentle.” Shaw asked quietly, tears welling in his eyes.
“What I’ll never understand, Father, is that after all you’ve seen and done that you can still be moved like this. That’s why you were always the best choice for this Bastion’s leader.”
“I could say the same about you my son.”
Aaron said nothing as he walked her back into the woods.
“Where is he taking her? What is he doing?!” Her mother called out in near hysterics as the father tried to calm her.
Dianna stared after him for a long moment before returning her attention to Shaw.
“That was unlike him. He hasn’t cared about exercising his authority in these matters for so long.”
“He had a daughter in the Old World. He never knew what became of her but we all imagine what happened to our loved ones. I think that every time he speeds a child on her way he imagines that he is doing the same for his daughter.”
Dianna looked back into the woods and said nothing.
“We’re going pretty far.” The girl noted as hey wound their way through the trees and rocks.
“It’s not much farther, I promise.”
She shyly looked up at his imposing figure and down at her leg.
“I know what you’re going to do, you know.” She said quietly. Aaron said nothing but nodded.
“See, we’re here.”
The creek ran swiftly before their feet. The water was clear and it sparkled in the morning sun. He indicated a place for her to sit. She obediently took her place and he sat slightly behind her after adjusting his long duster.
“I don’t want to die.” She gasped suddenly gripped by fear.
Aaron placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I know what I’m supposed to tell you, I know I’m supposed to make you feel good by telling you that the steel will speed you on your way. I know that it doesn’t mean shit to a young child like you. I know you want to run and play with your friends and dance in the grass.”
She quietly sobbed and nodded.
“I know that you want to run to your mommy and daddy right now and wish you could never have to think about this again.”
She sobbed louder and nodded.
“But what will happen instead honey is that within a few hours or days you will die. It will be painful and cruel. You will wish for death near the end and then the worst part of it is that after you get your wish you’ll come back again. You will be hungry and rabid and you will attack and eat anyone that gets in your path, your mommy, daddy, and friends. It won’t matter to you. You will make them like you and in the end you will rot away and become a ghastly monster that others will loathe and fear.”
“I don’t want to become that!” She exclaimed.
Aaron nodded.
“Neither did my little girl or my wife honey. That’s why I’m here to help you as best I can and the only comfort I have is this.” He cocked back the glock and let her see it. He slowly and deliberately placed it against the back of her head.
“Is there a heaven?” She asked in a clear calm voice.
“I don’t know sweetheart.” Aaron replied. He waited a long moment, listening to the creek and the rustling of leaves in the wind. “But if there was one I assure you that you would be there and I would not.” He said.
The report was sharp and loud.
The gathering in the clearing heard it and many jumped. The mother screamed a long mournful cry of anguish and collapsed in her husband’s arms. Dianna gathered her cloak around her.
“Bring the child into the temple when he releases her to us. There are rites to be said.” She sighed and walked with Shaw back to the Bastion. As they walked she watched the older man. She in turn also watched the faces of many as they walked back. There was darkness in their eyes, long shadows across their faces, shuffling in their steps.
“The people look sorrowful. Listless.”
“There is very little hope these days. We always assumed that when enough time passed the accursed would rot away. We were very wrong. A day like today reminds them very brutally of where we stand. We are always waiting to die. That leaves very little room for hope.” Shaw explained.
Dianna nodded slowly. Hope - The one emotion that did not last very long at all in this place.
“The summons.” She said after walking in silence for a few minutes. The Bastion loomed ahead.
“Yes?” Shaw replied neutrally.
“I will go.” She relented.
“Then perhaps things are not all bad. There is always hope.” Shaw concluded.
Dianna looked up at the sudden cawing of the crows and watched a flight of the inky black birds soaring out of the trees around them and flapping frantically north. Her eyes narrowed on the sight.
“Unfortunately father the omens say otherwise.” Dianna murmured.
The crows slowly faded away north, precisely in the direction where she was to go.
