Empire Of The Undead (29 page)

"You are out of elixir?" she asked. Hope withered and died even as it bloomed.

"I still have one more for an emergency," he said. "I have had to use it on myself once, and I hope not to again. Still, it's best to be prepared."  He motioned toward the city. “Truth be told, I was hoping for some solace in the city. I certainly wasn’t expecting smoking ruins. What happened? How did you get out?”

“We never made it,” she said. “We arrived after it fell, and saw this just as you have.”

“I have noticed since I left Sarmizegetusa that the lifeless seem to have been drifting toward the city. Almost as if they were led by some will, but enough of this. Where is Natopurus?  Where is Iullianus?  Did Decabalus come with you?”

The smile wilted from her lips. “Dead. They’re all dead.”

Zuste lowered his head in a moment of silence. He gnawed nervously at the worn nails on his left hand. “All my fault,” he muttered. “Rowanna, I never told you that I created this. I wanted to, but I had taken so much from you. I was a coward.”

"I know what you did. I hate you, partially, but you are not responsible for this," she said.

Zuste wasn't listening to her. He was staring, aghast, at the creature that had almost eaten her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"That's him," he said. He moved toward the body, knelt on the ground and looked closely. The arrow had come out through its nose, but its face was largely undamaged.

"It's who?" Rowanna asked, kneeling beside him.

"This is the man who gave me the recipe for the plague. The man who said I could help him doom Rome forever, and grow rich from doing it."

"Why would a Roman plot to kill Rome?"

"He said he wasn't Roman. He was Etruscan."

Rowanna did not know what that meant. She glanced at the battle. There weren't many of the monsters left, now. She found herself smiling, as a relief she had forgotten was possible filled her. Then she spied the big red haired lifeless in the horde and her spirits fell. Even from the distance, she could see the bloody mask his face wore.

"We have to go," she said. "There is one we can save."

Zuste was not listening. He kicked at the Etruscan's body, kicked it hard in the ribs. The creature was dead and did not react, but Zuste kicked it again. She could hear bones snapping. The centurions moved to flank him, but they made no move to stop him.

She watched the advancing mob of lifeless. There weren't many left, and their efforts were at last bearing fruit. With Zuste's men, they could maybe win the war against death.

"Zuste," she said, "your last elixir. We can save Iullianus."

He had moved up to the things head, and he stomped on its face before looking up. "Iullianus?  He lives?"

"He is undead. He moves toward us now."

Zuste paused. "Do you love him?" he asked.

"No!" she said, too quickly. She searched inside herself, but there was only a tangled mass of confusion. "We have been through much, and it wouldn't be the first time."

He nodded. "Don't kill that red-haired one," he said to two of the soldiers beside. "In fact, bring him here."

They moved and quickly they'd brought the snarling, vacant-eyed creature before them. There were pulpy bits of pink smeared around his lips and blood drenched him from mouth to chest. He struggled against the grasp of the two who held him, but they were too strong.

"You sure about this?" Zuste asked. "I can make more, but does the world need more of him?"

"He is a man of war, it is true," Rowanna said, "but even in peace, we need such, and it will be long before this war is ultimately over."  She squinted at the fields outside the city. There were living men everywhere she could see, and the pockets of lifeless smaller and fewer than ever.

Toward the city, she saw a familiar figure. Felix was covered in ash and was visibly weary, but he lived. She waved him over and turned to Zuste.

"I would not ask," she said, "but he has sacrificed much."

"He's not the only one, Rowanna, but I owe you that much, at least," Zuste said. "And far more, in truth."  He handed the bottle to her.

It was so small and filled with a clear liquid. She moved forward and unplugged the bottle. A pleasant, herbal scent reached her. It smelled more like tea than she would have guessed an elixir of life would.

Iullianus groaned as she approached and she took the opportunity to pour it down his throat. Almost instantly, he stopped struggling. The centurions struggled to support his now limp body.

"You might want to move back," she said. "When they change back, it can get messy."

"We know," said one of the guards.

"We were the first to be changed back," the other said. "It was a rough few moments."

Iullianus groaned. His eyes were still closed and it was impossible to tell if he was alive or not.

She turned to Zuste. He was watching the affair with the solemnity of a judge. A small movement caught her attention and she gasped.

"Zuste!" she screamed. "Your foot!  Move it now!" she screamed, too panicked to be coherent.

If he had been a warrior or an athlete, instinct might have saved him. Instead, the alchemist looked down in time to see the Etruscan move his head and bite down hard on Zuste's leg.

"Zalmoxis!" he screamed in pain and rage. Then he started laughing. "That blasted fucker got the last laugh on me. Oh, what a jest this life is."

The lifeless smiled, and then, most horrible of all, it spoke.

“You blasted fools.”  Its voice was chopped granite. “You bleed for the Romans. You bleed for your masters like good sheep.”

One of the guards moved to the thing and raised his sword.

“Wait,” Zuste called, “wait, I will hear this thing.”

“Look at you two,” the creature said, rising to a half-prone position. “Dacians, yes?  Rome was invading you, killing you. I know I am right. They erased us, their greatest rivals, from history. Why do you help them?”

An icy hand slapped Rowanna across the face. Each decision along the way had felt correct, but this creature spoke truly. Zuste had an answer.

“I hate the Romans,” he wheezed. His skin was losing color. “But even more do I hate your idea of revenge. Look what you’ve done to the world!”

The thing choked in laughter. “I’ve only done to them what they do to all they meet. A mirror is the cruelest of gifts, to the cruel. Slay me, slay this horde, but do not forget the true enemy. Do not forget what the Romans would do to your sons and daughters.”

Zuste tried to speak, but instead, coughed violently and collapsed to the ground. Rowanna motioned to the guard. With no ceremony, he chopped the head from the prone lifeless being.

"Zuste," she cried, "I can save you. Is there more elixir?"

He slowly turned his head toward her. His pupils were fading, his mouth lolling as the functions in his brain ceased. "My home…Sarmizegetusa … more elixir," he hissed. He growled at her as his face twisted into a rictus of death.

Without thinking about it, she pushed him away. His changing body fell to the ground and she turned. She could save him, though she knew not how to travel to Dacia with him. Perhaps she could restrain him, go to retrieve the cure, and come back.

The long-bearded creature that had once been Zuste rose. He came at her again, his long beard jerking from his twitching steps.

“Rowanna!” she heard a cry. “Look out.”  Felix, fleet of foot, ran to her and he stabbed Zuste in the head. The bearded man fell to the ground instantly, the blade sticking out from the back of his skull.

A haze of rage filled Rowanna. As if she were another person, she watched herself grip her spear, set her feet, and pull the spear back.

She saw herself jerk with the weapon, driving through his leather armor and into his soft flesh. It only took an instant, an instant that she immediately needed to have again, to undo what she had done.

Felix fell, and she screamed.

She dropped down and grabbed his body, wrenching the spear out from just above his chest. The leather armor had kept most of it from penetrating, and she’d hit the left side of his body. She had likely punctured no organs. He might live.

She rolled him over and suddenly stopped. Tears filled her eyes and she fell to the ground, her body wracked by gasping sobs.

For a moment, for a lifetime, she’d looked at his face and only seen Dapyx. She’d seen her son lying there before her, dead from a wound his mother had given. She could barely see, but she stood. Slowly, her eyes unfocused and her body sobbing, she lifted the spear. It was held in both hands, and she brought it down over her knee and snapped the shaft. Her husband's spear, the tool of her survival, fell to the muddy, bloody earth.

There were creatures around her, but she fell to the ground, awaiting oblivion or whatever doom was owed to her. She knew only one thing.

She would fight no more.

When she opened her eyes, the grave face of Iullianus was regarding her. The two centurions stood stock still. The big man pulled free from their grasp and looked down. He took in Zuste's dead body and Felix's barely breathing one. His regretful visage was more eloquent than any speech could have been.

"We have to leave, Rowanna. This Empire of the Undead is no place for the living."

She rose and nodded dumbly, too drained to form words.

Epilogue

Britannia: 89 CE, Summer

The cool blue sea surrounded them and Rowanna fought the need to purge her breakfast over the edge. This ship, on the open sea, was far worse than what she had endured before. Even the weather had grown worse—no one had told her that this land was perpetually covered in clouds and rain. Iullianus stood next to her with a knowing smile.

“I would hate to see you when there was bad weather,” he said.

"Me too. Good weather, bad weather," she said, "I still hate the sea."

"Give it time," he said, "and don’t get too attached to the idea of good weather. It is more a myth than a reality where we are headed.”

Rowanna sighed and stared back into the sea. None of it felt real. After they had found that Felix lived, they had dragged his body off the battlefield, left Rome forever. The Etruscan lifeless had spoken too well, and Rowanna would never be comfortable with her role if the Empire survived. There was as yet, no sign of that, but Senator Rufus had died believing that Domitian yet lived.
Anyone that paranoid,
he’d said,
can’t be killed by a mere infestation of bone-chomping ghouls.

It had taken some time, but Iullianus had acquired skinny, terrified horses, and they had ridden north through Italy and then Gaul. There had been no lifeless and very few living either. In some ways it was idyllic. The entire world was emptied and left for them. Food had come from abandoned inns and houses. They had arrived at the coast two days ago and found a boat just this morning. In no time at all, she realized, they would land and she would be in his homeland. Or closer to it, as he had repeatedly disavowed relation with the southern dwellers of Britannia.

"Look," Iullianus said. There were dolphins swimming along with the boat. "
Oceanus
 smiles on us," he said. "
Festina lente
."

"
Festina lente
?" she echoed, watching one of the smaller dolphins leap free from the waves.

"Make haste slowly," he translated. "I think it particularly apt. It’s what we’ve been doing since we met. Before, in my case."

"I have never seen such creatures," she said, unable to look away from the aquatic animals. "They are a marvel. I wonder if he's seen them."  She turned from the edge of the ship, reluctant to look away for even a brief moment.

She called to him. "Come out. Come out and see this."  The dolphins were splashing as they began to catch fish.

The young man walked out of the small cabin, blinking as he joined them. His bandage was bloody but not infected, he was healing. He smiled and the sun shone on his white teeth. "Dolphins," he said. "The symbol of my profession, and witness to my success in the hippodrome. It is good to see them now. Good luck to see them now."

"More than you know. They are a boon for my people as well, Felix," Iullianus said.

"My name," the other said, scratching at the bandages on his chest, "is Jotham."

Behind him, the blue sea silently rippled.

THE END

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Elsie

‘Click… click,’ the gun-turret traced the movement of the eight-legged dog, but no bullets fired. The beast nuzzled into the piles of human bones, both heads snapping and growling over a choice femur. The smaller head conceded, and settled for a finger. Both heads snatched their prizes, turned, and ran, daring not to approach any closer to the Fortress.

Elsie Cuthbert sat on the sofa giggling away at the warm glow from the television set. Electricity buzzed around her and a portable filament heater warmed her little feet. The air was static, as it always was, and her mind had been wandering, as it always did. She scraped her dark, wavy hair into a ponytail, and thrashed her legs until the furry blanket fell away.

These walls were the only friends she had ever known. She could not see the world outside, but everything felt calm enough. The silence was only broken by the occasional whirr of an outside gun turret as it traced something. Maybe it was a foraging animal, maybe it was a weary traveller, or perhaps it was something Elsie could only imagine in her nightmares.

Just a squirrel, she told herself. Maybe a cat or a dog, or a snake or a rat... but not a man. They don’t know I am here… they can’t come here.

Home was not really a home. A home was a place for family and friends and laughter. This home was a fortified metal box designed with one purpose in mind, to keep the outside world out. It had only a small living room, a hallway, and a bedroom. A fire had gutted the kitchen years ago, Mother had once told her, and it now stood sealed away behind concrete and metal.

It was cramped, but at least she was safe from the outside world. Elsie had never seen anything beyond her walls and shutters. Films and documentaries showed her places from all around the planet Earth; brilliant lakes, deserts, glaciers and forests. She wanted to see it all, but Mother said that the world outside was not like that any longer, and that is why they were locked away.

Something buzzed around Elsie’s head and stopped her daydreaming. She had been the captain on an old steamboat travelling the Mississippi, hunting crocs (even though she would have only found alligator) until a common house fly dive-bombed her face repeatedly. She brushed it away lazily and sighed. She hated flies more than anything. Horrible little monsters, she cursed to herself. She knew why they were here, and she shuddered when she thought about it.

Metal shutters did well to keep the bigger stuff out, but the insects still got in. It was the lure of the vast food source inside, she knew. And at times, the cold, grey, Fortress walls seemed to move. Black clouds formed on the outside of the shutters and droned as one. She was certain that every insect in the country was attracted to her Fortress.

‘Raaaaaawwwp.’ Elsie clutched her rumbling tummy and climbed to her feet. The remote control zapped the television into darkness and she smiled. Mother would kill me if she knew how much telly I have watched today, but that didn’t matter any longer. Mother was no longer able to tell her daughter off.

Elsie’s mother was the reason the insects wouldn’t leave her home. She had always told Elsie off for spilling things, “That orange juice will attract bugs, Elsie,” she would tell her. But it was Mother that attracted the bugs now, and had been ever since she had died. Mother is the food that makes the insects come. Elsie’s mother was dead and rotting in the bedroom, and the flies had covered her black. Her daughter was now all alone.

From birth, this Fortress had been Elsie’s entire life, all six long years of it. Mother had told her stories about the world beyond, about a world she had grown up in. It sounded so beautiful, especially the flowers of all colours, the furry animals, the blue skies, the rivers of turquoise, and the silver and gold fish that swam in them.

“But that was how it was, but no more,” Mother had said. “The world was now full of vile men, torturous bastards, and sadistic rapists. Rivers ran red with blood, not fish. Plants no longer flowered to bring colours to the world. Animals were no longer cute, but now grotesque, extinct, or rabid. Even the sky had darkened. Even the grass was dying. Society had crumbled and the old-world was over. The very nature of man had been brought to light.” And it was true. Each and every male had been stripped back to show what they really were. “Monsters,” Mother had said. “The outside world was no longer safe for anyone, especially a girl.”

The world’s cities had decayed and rusted, Elsie remembered her Mother’s words. And now she is decaying too.

Elsie needed something to take her mind from her hunger. She studied her DVD collection but opted for a small book nestled between two of the plastic cases instead. It was a secret diary Elsie started to scribble in it as soon as she could lift a pen. Mother had taught her to read and write from a very early age, something that had helped pass time when they locked away for eternity. It mainly held Mother’s words, nice stories about her father and her baby years. She flicked to one of the pages and sat back on the sofa to read.

When father was sure we were safe in the Fortress, he started his experiments to find a cure for this new disease. He quickly realised that a major symptom of this new disease was infertility (Mother says that this means men could no longer help the stork make babies?). For a while, more babies were born, but only some survived. Most were too deformed or were butchered - for food or sport. She says Mankind will die. I asked where I came from if babies were rare, and she told me it was a stork that brought me.

The page finished with a line that Elsie didn’t recognise. It is Mother’s handwriting. This baffled her more than where babies came from; Mother wasn’t supposed to know about the diary. The words that were written made her heart throb in her ears, ‘the outside world occasionally knocks, but it is the turrets that answer. They keep you safe, Elsie. Never have them at your back, keep behind them always.’

The next page was full of poorly drawn Superhero logos. Elsie loved action films and had often spoken to her mother about going on their own adventure. But Mother said the same thing every time, “Adventures were for big, strong men. Not little girls and their mothers.” Elsie wasn’t even big enough for a six-year-old girl, never mind a big, strong man. She looked at her reflection in a broken mirror. Pokey, skinny and small, knobbly knees, sharp elbows and hollow cheeks, she sighed.

Raaaaaawwwp. She puffed out her hollow rosy cheeks and wiped a bead of sweat from her freckled forehead. Sweat had even started to seep through her patchwork clothes. A top fashioned from curtains and patchy leggings held up with a belt of string. She knew what she had to do. The hunger couldn’t be fought any longer.

Elsie once loved sleeping with her mother. They used to share a big bed in the bedroom that she could sink right into. The fluffy linen was so soft on her skin and was cool to the touch, but that was then. Elsie now slept on the sofa in the living room where it wasn’t so… smelly.

Raaaaaawwwp. The walk to the bedroom was longer than Elsie had remembered. She breathed through her mouth to try to avoid the stench. At the door, she stopped silent and poked her head around the frame. The room was still relatively tidy, minus the thin layer of dust and the bloated corpse on the floor. It was the smell that was the worst, the smell.

Elsie gritted her baby teeth. The room was dirty to her, so dirty that it could never be clean again. The wallpaper disgusted her, the bed sheets made her gag and the carpet made her dizzy. All of the windows in the bedroom were sealed shut, and had been since the day her father had built the Fortress. The smell of rotting flesh circled the home with no escape, just like the insects.

The maggots were speeding up the decomposition, and created a breeding ground for insects and crawlies not affected by the change that had ruined all the men. Elsie gagged. She pushed the door fully open and stepped over Mother’s bloated body. It moves, she noticed.

Elsie looked at the baby pink blanket covered in cartoon bunnies. She had covered Mother the day she died so she didn’t have to see her eyes. Wet patches had appeared where the body had really started to decompose, and most of the pink was now black with flies. The whole mass underneath moved with the motion of feasting insects, and the smell was unbearable.

She remembered the last conversation they had shared. She asked her mother if her father was nice like the men in the films, or was he now a monster like the others. She could still hear the answer; ‘He was the nicest man you could ever meet and only left us because he had no choice. He was scared, Elsie. He was a man, and evil was in his genes, in his DNA.’

Oak cupboards and wardrobes lined the walls all the way around the room. Elsie skipped over Mother and flitted across to the other side. Even the smell couldn’t deter her hunger. She opened the first cupboard, but found only the fading scent of baked bread that briefly masked the stench of death. She went to the next cupboard, and the one after that and the one after that. She found no tins, no dried food, no water, not a cracker crumb, nothing.

Raaaaaawwwp. The food had run out and Elsie was running on empty. She wondered what Mother would do in this situation and she remembered him - the stranger that came in the dark. He only came when the food was low. Mother must have signaled him somehow, because he hasn’t been since she died.

Their Doctor, Mother called him, the family Doctor. I don’t want him to come.

He was always secretive. Mother would scold her when she tried to steal just a glimpse of him through the bedroom door. Her fear of him grew more and more. Why did Mother warn her about the world and say that men were dangerous, if she let one into the Fortress regularly? He only came at night, dressed from head to toe in dark, dirty rags. Then it dawned on her, he could return any day now, and Mother isn’t here to keep me safe.

The sound of insects chirping outside put Elsie on edge. She realised that there was only one option to survive. She had to leave the Fortress into an evil place, where feral men opened women up just to see why they were different, why they hadn’t changed. Females were sold to farms where they were bred to find a cure and the old and the barren were forced into prostitution. Others were killed simply for fun, and she knew all this at her age.

The world was not a place for a six-year-old girl.

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