General Population (9 page)

Javier darted from the window to the cell and whipped the keys from his belt. He was moving so fast that he fumbled with the ring and dropped them on the ground. He wasn't the type of man to panic, but the tension was affecting his motor skills. He was so busy trying to pick out the proper key that he didn't notice that Tanya had placed a hand on his shoulder. He paused and looked up at her.

"Relax," Tanya instructed. "Just let your natural instincts control your body. Don't think about what you are doing, or what needs to be done. You were born to do this."

It was a strange moment for both of them. Tanya didn't quite understand why she was feeling the way she was, and Javier didn't understand why he was accepting it. Whatever this new world was they were in, the lines of good versus evil had become blurred.
 

With his nerves now calm, and his body back to his control, Javier unlocked the cell and Tanya stepped out.
 

"Madame," said Javier, trying to sound threatening but not able to do so, "do not force me to shoot you myself."

She stared at him for a few seconds. All those weird feelings she was having started messing with her again. She wanted to kill him. Or rather, she wanted to want to kill him. Tanya moved forward with the intention of snapping back at him but instead ended up kissing him on the cheek to ease his sense of security.

"Do not worry, I gave you my word. Now no matter what happens next, you need to stay focused."

As Tanya made her way to the exit, she began to undo the buttons on her blouse, followed by the leather belt holding her dress up. Her clothes glided off of her onto the ground, revealing her nakedness to Javier.

"Madame! What are you doing?"

"Oh," said Tanya, "just slipping into something more comfortable."

Tanya turned and gave Javier a playful wink. When she opened her eyes, they had changed from their naturally grayish tint to bright yellow. Her smile had already begun to change and her perfect teeth had elongated to form deadly looking incisors. Once halfway through the door, Tanya crouched on all fours and leapt into the street with a boisterous howl.

Javier found himself smiling at the she-wolf as he drew his weapon from its holster and followed her lead. Perhaps he had misjudged her and Maddix as well? What did he know? Saving his men was more important now, and pride would have to move to the wayside till everyone was out of harms way.

The sounds of gunfire had created a wicked ringing in Maddix's ears, but that wasn't enough to drown out the clicking of his pistol as it fired the last round. They were surrounded and backed into a wall. Ironically they were mere feet away from where the first constable died. They had seen two more taking fatal bites and then stand back up and join the rest of the walking dead.
 

They had been backed into a corner and surrounded. The growing army had no end in sight, but they continued to fight regardless of the odds. The reinforcements had bought them some time, but even with a small squad of riot guns the zombies still managed to cut them off from the station and overtake most of them. Robert's last count put them at seven left, not including Maddix, who had come out of nowhere with his gun blazing.

Clicks of handguns going dry surrounded them. The constables with scatterguns continued to fire into the huddled mass of zombies, but the wall of bodies was so thick that the suppression was minimal. Maddix pulled his wooden stake out from his coat and stood his ground defensively. He wasn't ready to quit just yet with so much on the line. His drive was contagious and the other constables followed, each one pulling "law enforcement" issue stakes from their belts.

"No matter what happens," began Roberts, "it was a ride serving with you men!"

"It was fun pissing you off," Maddix replied. The two men exchanged smiles for the first time. They were ready to fight and ready to die. The newfound camaraderie helped to keep the adrenaline at maximum.

It was then that something caused the zombies to be distracted. Maddix's ears could barely make it out, but it sounded like howling coming from the station. Had Larouche been hit by the werewolves? Perhaps they were attempting to break their leader out of jail? Maddix turned to the direction that all the monsters were turning. Moving down the street with quick stride was one of the most magnificent wolves he had ever laid eyes on. It was so graceful yet powerful enough to leave deep impressions on the ground as it ran.

It dawned on Maddix finally as he watched it leap almost twenty feet and into the mob of hungry flesh-eaters that it was Tanya. He watched her tear through each zombie like paper. She bit through necks and crushed skulls like nothing. They converged on her, snapping and groaning as they attempted to take a chomp out of her body. Tanya dusted them off of her like a swarm of annoying flies and sent most of them back through the air for varying distances.

"Run!" said Tanya, with a deep guttural tone.
 

The constables obeyed and ran toward the station, meeting Larouche, who was already capping off zombie heads one after another, in the middle. Javier smiled at Maddix and tossed him a clip full of ammo, which he quickly loaded into his weapon and pulled the slide.

Both men watched as Tanya continued her onslaught of the horde. There were piles of rotting bodies everywhere as she splatted them all until one a few remained that Javier and Maddix picked off with their guns till there was only one remaining.
 

Javier walked over to the last remaining zombie, who had apparently lost an arm during the fight. It was acting crazed—even more so for a zombie—and didn't seem to care too much that Javier was even near it. Larouche could see the bodies of fallen constables lying on the ground, some in pieces from Tanya's entry into the fight.

With a look of anger and disgust on his face, Javier put the barrel of his gun to the creature's head.
 

"Fuck you," said Javier.

"Wait," Tanya demanded with a big swipe of her paw to the back of the zombie.
 

It was squirming helplessly on the ground, unable to move the heavy wolf from on top of it.

"Don't you want to question him?"

Confused, Javier stared at the she-wolf. Was she being serious or taking a shot at him? It was hard to tell the intent of a werewolves comments when they were in wolf form.
 

"She's right," said Maddix. "We should lock this thing up and see if we can find out what's behind these attacks. I think these may have something to do with it."

Maddix held up the specimen jar with the wasp in it.

"Every incident I encounter, these things are close by."

"Allow me," said Tanya, picking up the zombie in her strong jaw and dragging it back toward the station.

"Roberts," Javier called, "lock that thing up in the holding cell."

"And the wolf-bitch?"

"Sergeant," snapped Javier. "Due to her service today, Miss Tanya is no longer being detained. Off with you."

"I'm going to get Ephrain Ketter at his shop. He would be the only one who could get near that thing without getting hurt."

Javier turned to Maddix to speak, but something in the distance caught his eye.

"I think we have something more pressing at the moment, monsieur."

Javier pointed toward the huge billows of smoke coming from the windows of Maddix's office.

Javier and two of his constables stayed behind to guard the entrance. A group of onlookers had taken residence around the office building, pointing, laughing, and snickering about the situation. The whole ordeal was blowing up in their faces, both figuratively and literally from what it looked like. The residents of Malevolent were starting to see the balance of power shift from those who would imprison them to whoever was behind these series of events.
 

Maddix opened the front door but was stopped short by Javier. He didn't have to say anything to Maddix to get him to understand that they would have to take action soon or they were all dead. Each occurrence resulted in more people dead, which made them that much more vulnerable to the next attack, and who knew what was coming next.

The carnage inside was frightening. Everything made of wood or plaster was damaged by whatever had exploded. It smelled strange to Maddix, however. Not a bomb, or gasoline, but more like burned meat on a grill. He noticed the door to the office was broken inward, not destroyed by the blast but something much sooner.

Holding his nose in disgust he pressed on into the library. It wasn't as badly wrecked as the office, but he could see a good chunk of the blast burned its way through half of it. The large table that they had used for so many research projects in the past was tipped on its side with a quarter of it blown to pieces. A pair of familiar shoes stuck out from behind it.

Maddix dashed to the table and pushed it aside, the last of its surface cracking and coming apart as he did. Tara was half-conscious and covered in vomit, but she was alive. Maddix picked her up from the floor and set her down in his chair. He tapped her gently on the side of her face, trying to snap her out of the disorientated state she was in.

"Maddix?" said Tara. Her voice was weak.

"Yes, it's me! Are you okay?"

"Nothing a whole bottle of aspirin won't fix."

"What happened here?"

"A vampire tried to kill me, except …"
 

"What?"

"He was acting like an animal, not like a vampire at all. Something was messing with his brain because it tried coming into the library without an invitation. He killed himself doing it—"

Tara was cut off by the shouting and cheering coming from outside. It sounded like an anti-war protest, except there were no catchy slogans. Instead, there were chants of revenge and death. The magic that kept them safe appeared to be coming apart at the seams, and the prisoners knew it. Most of them were waiting for an opportunity like this to happen so that they could strike.

"If there is magic involved than Krazek has to know something," said Maddix. He helped Tara to her feet. Her hair was streaked with blood from where she had bumped her head. "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll grab the first aid kit from upstairs."

"Okay, get that cleaned up and start packing up some stuff. We'll move the operation to the constable station for now and go from there. In the meantime, I'm going to pay a visit to our local sorcerer and see if he has any idea what the hell is going on."

Maddix turned to leave, but Tara grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

"Please be careful. That man is insane, and with everything going on—"

"Don't worry. I'll take two of Larouche's finest with me."

Sitting on the top floor of his crooked tower, Krazek could see the land stretched out before him. The lake shimmered as it swirled in circles. The beaten path to his home extended far into the edge of town.
 

In his head, he criticized the foolish lives his fellow prisoners were wasting on a mundane existence. He refused to be part of that circle of misery. He never went into town and rarely engaged in meaningless banter with anyone. He was Krazek! The last of the great sorcerers and he was being forced to live in a cage just for the crime of wielding dark power.

He loved his power and hungered for more. Krazek's entire life was spent learning how to obtain and use powerful magic and cast spells that could make the Earth tilt on its axis at his command. Now he would spend his days thinking about revenge and taking back his rightful place in the world.

He never imagined that his entire life's work would end with him being locked up in a cage. And it was all because of a traveling shaman that challenged him on that one night.

Krazek thought back before the days of the second purge. He lived in a high tower and commanded thousands of minions, ghouls, and ghostly soldiers. He destroyed villages and lay siege to lands all over the New World. All manner of man, woman, dead and undead feared him. The world would have been his, but with power came arrogance.

The natives had a power that he could not understand. They were tapped into a type of energy that could not be touched by magic or curse. They had a direct link to the spirit world.

Krazek could conjure the deadliest of demons to level whole armies with breaths of fire and death. He once summoned a dragon to destroy a kingdom in the old country. Sent a skeletal assassin to eliminate other sorcerers that threatened his power. But these natives—that the settlers mistook for Indians—had learned to speak with the Earth itself and direct the spirits that shaped the world, and protected it.

He captured and tortured many to learn the secrets, but no one would help him. They fought every spell and charm. He slaughtered children before their mother's eyes and burned the men in pyres of dark magic.

Then the Shaman came from the west. He was a drifter from a long lost tribe, a vagabond. He was dressed differently from the natives Krazek had been used to seeing; he wore strange necklaces with bones and carvings. His eyes were dark and his face was painted similar to the medicine men he had encountered.

The vagabond dared to set up a small camp in front of Krazek's grand tower. It was insulting to him, but it still piqued his curiosity. Who was this man? Where had he originated?

He sat in his camp whittling away at pieces of bone and wood, humming strange songs to himself. He built a fire that grew as the day progressed. He became more active, humming and throwing things into the flames. He would create small sculptures and then burn them in the fire.

The last of the sun dropped and the Shaman began dancing and singing loudly outside the tower. That was it. Krazek stepped out to face this intruder. Perhaps he could get the answers he needed by burning the man's skin, or inflicting him with flesh-eating beetles. He would teach this savage respect one way or another.

"How dare you trespass the home of Krazek?" said Krazek. His hands were charged with power, ready to unleash on the strange native.