The Land Beyond All Dreams (17 page)

“Yeah, I figured he’d send backup.” I ruffled the cat behind the ears. “Thanks for the warning. I guess we’d better get ready to rumble.” I went back inside and told Rose about the squirrel.

Her eyes turned crimson and she hissed Draconic profanity, smoke curling up from her nostrils. “I am tired of hiding,” she said. “It is time we settled accounts.”

I nodded. “Yep. War council tonight. I’m going to bring all our new toys, just in case.”

“I’ll meet you outside,” she said. “This will just take a minute.” She headed downstairs.

While she was away, I went up to my office to collect our hardware. I carried one tactical knife on my belt, concealed the others, and replaced my compound bow with Kindness and the
macuahuitl
. By the time I’d finished playing musical weapons, Rose was back and ready to go.

“Mother will watch the house tonight,” she said. “She brought all the younglings from her Masquerading as Human class with her so they can learn about television, pizza, and Chinese takeout.”

“They’re studying college life?”

“No, they haven’t gotten to using drugs yet. They’re on teenage life in Western cultures. They have to pass that to get their driver’s licenses.”

“One of these days I want to see your mom’s lesson plans.” I aimed us toward I-25 and headed north.

The range was in the semi-rural part of old Lafayette, an area that still manages to look like something from a Norman Rockwell painting. Some of the houses we passed dated back before the Depression, sheltering hardscrabble folks clinging to the dwindling remains of their family farms. An abandoned gas station boasting prices from the mid-eighties sat next to the entrance to one of those mobile home parks where you own your space rather than rent—premium-grade Tornado Chow.

We turned in at the feed store, and drove past a grain elevator, several silos, and a pack of sleeping hound dogs before coming to a converted warehouse. The sign over the range door read NOCKED AND LOADED. I stifled a moan.

Most of the BADASSES—Boulder Area Deathmatch, Apocalypse, and Zombie Survival Society. Yes, we’re armed geeks—had arrived already, so we introduced Thirteen to everyone and started getting set up. Ember introduced me to a friend of hers named Ron, who had just joined BADASSES. While we talked, Rose pulled Harmony into the bathroom to brief her on the situation. Both looked grim when they emerged.

Jake and Miranda arrived ten minutes later, carrying in a couple of good-sized boxes. Miranda made everyone sit down and make drum roll noises. When it finished, she said, “Ta-da!” and lifted a sculpted 3-D zombie torso out of the box.

“Say hello to Zombie Bob! Suitable for rifle, pistol, bow, crossbow, throwing knives, bet’leH, frying pan, whatever. He’s made from a cellulose honeycomb, totally biodegradable, with penetration resistance similar to ballistics gel. And he bleeds when you cut him.” She planted a kiss on Zombie Bob’s rotting cheek and added, “We’re going to try to crowdsource the funds for our initial production run. Anyone want to help us make a demo video?”

The things we do for friends
. I raised my hand. Most of the others did as well.

Jake opened his box and pulled out a matching female torso. She had greasy blond hair, a ragged white tank top, and the remnants of a really slutty makeup job. “Meet Bob’s girlfriend, Amber Cadaver! Yes, her shirt is removable, if rotting boobies turn you on.”

“Our first decent product idea and he has to bring Rule 34 into it.” Miranda shuddered. “I wanted to make her a soccer mom.”

Lucas, the range owner, wasn’t keen on targets oozing all over his floor, so Jake put down a tarp and pinky-swore he’d scrub up any spots. The targets didn’t really bleed so much as ooze a greenish-black gelatin. It welled up at the edges of a wound and stayed there. It looked nasty, but it made it easy to focus on getting consistent groups.

The targets did not go over well with the other customers. One kid who looked to be in high school thought they were awesome, but his dad and grandfather used words like “juvenile” and “nauseating”. Two other shooters decided to leave and demanded a refund on their range fees. At that point, Lucas insisted the targets be removed.

I have to admit, I thought the targets were pretty juvenile. They seemed too geeky to appeal to most rednecks, and too outdoorsy to interest most geeks. It might go over at a Halloween-themed paintball course, but not much else.

While Lucas was happy to gain a dozen regular shooters, he wasn’t happy about the ones we drove away. “You all are welcome to come in and shoot, but I have to ask you not to scare my regulars off. I won’t let anyone give you grief while you’re here, but I need you not to rub your lifestyle into people’s faces. Can we agree to that?”

As a group, we agreed, and for the sake of getting along with the locals, we decided to forgo our usual human silhouette targets and stick with the standard circular ones. Once we stopped doing crazy stuff that alienated the other shooters, the atmosphere mellowed out and we managed to start making friends.

After an hour or so, I decided to skip a few rounds and look at some high-end carbon fiber shafts as possible replacements for my old cedar arrows. I’d started doing archery in the Society, and only wood arrows were allowed under the rules. They were holding up, but they were still well over ten years old. My shopping trip put me in front of the store window, so I got a good view of the police car pulling up. I made sure my hands were visible when officers Wells and Ackerman came in.

Wells stopped at the front counter and said, “Evening, Lucas. We got a call about some circus types causing trouble and carrying out indecent perversions in public. There was also something about desecrating corpses. Any idea what might be behind all the ruckus?”

Lucas looked at me, and then back at Wells. “Just a difference of opinion between some regulars and a new group of shooters. Nothing serious.” He pointed to me and said, “This gentleman is one of the new folks. You might talk to him.”

I said, “We didn’t mean to upset anyone and certainly apologize if we did. If it would help, two of the people in our group are officers with District One in Denver. I’m sure they could answer any questions you might have.”

Wells smirked and followed me toward the range area. “I’m sure. I really want to hear about this corpse desecration thing. We don’t get many calls for that.”

A gust of wind rattled the windows and sent loose pieces of sheet metal banging against one another. A second, more powerful, one hit, shaking the building. Thunder followed it, loud, continuing, and getting stronger. Green lightning danced over metal surfaces along the walls and ceiling.

I looked toward the front window. It was like that old joke—I didn’t know how many of Thain’s undead minions it would take to kick our ass, but I knew how many he was going to use.

Flashes of lightning illuminated rows of figures standing in formation in front of the store. Humans, Elves, Dwarves, a few seven-foot tall savages I assumed were orcs or goblins of some kind. They were months, even years dead, wearing remnants of battle-scarred armor caked with grave mold. They held rusted weapons at their side, ready to draw and attack at a moment’s notice.

Without looking away from the window, I said, “Tell me, Officer Wells—how do you feel about desecrating corpses that want to kill you?”

A Dead Man Goes to War

Of course, Thain wasn’t immediately visible. Like any good general, he was probably hiding far in the back. We could deal with him later, though.

I ran to the front door and planted my foot against the bottom edge. I shouted, “Lucas! Get the door locked!”

“What are you talking about?” He looked out the window and asked, “Who are those assholes?”

“An army of the dead who want to kill us all. Now lock the damn door!” I looked out again just as the dogs from the feed and grain ran up, barking and growling at the dead soldiers. Three of the dogs settled for barking and withdrawing, but one Rottie attacked. He went after the nearest soldier, biting the corpse’s arm and yanking. The elbow broke backward and the entire arm came away at the shoulder joint.

Two soldiers pushed forward, thrusting spears into the Rottie’s chest and back. A third brought his axe down on the Rottie’s head. The other dogs tried to run, and the soldiers hacked them to pieces. A big guy in overalls charged in swinging a baseball bat. He dropped one soldier before an axe split his face apart.

Wells had his pistol out and pointed at me. “If you’re responsible for this bullshit, you better call your buddies off!”

“I had nothing to do with this!” I pointed to the dead redneck and the crowd swarming in to feed on what was left of him. “That guy is dead and those things are eating him! Unless you want to join him, we need to find a place we can defend, now!” I turned back to Lucas and shouted, “Now close those goddamn shutters!”

Wells lowered his gun and looked—really
looked
—outside. He glanced at Ackerman and said, “That’s Norm Oxley. I waved at him when we pulled in here, and now those things are eating him.” He shook his head and his expression hardened. “Close it up, Lucas. We need to find a place where we can make a stand.”

Responding to a signal we couldn’t hear, the soldiers pulled back and fell into formation, leaving a path for a single giant figure to advance. This thing was an amalgam of partial corpses, forgotten limbs, and bits of rotten unused flesh, all scraped together into a towering vaguely-Human haggis of destruction. One arm ended in an armor-plated fist, the other held a great flanged mace.

“Holy Mother of God,” whispered Lucas. He backed up and flipped a switch under the counter. Steel shutters dropped down over the front of the shop, covering the door and windows. “We’re safe,” he said. “They’d need a bulldozer to get those open.”

As he said it, the shutters rattled under an immense blow. It shook the building, sending dust and plaster chunks cascading down from the ceiling. The shutters bowed in and twisted, leaving a manhole-sized dent in the steel.

“They don’t need a bulldozer,” I said. “They’ve got him.”

“What the crap is going on?” bellowed one of the regular shooters. “Who’s out there?”

Ackerman said, “The radio is almost useless. It sounds like there’s a tornado covering the whole area. I called for backup, but I couldn’t tell if anyone heard me.”

Wells called out, “Everyone, we’re being attacked! One man is dead already, and we can’t call for back up. We’ve got to hold these things off until help arrives.”

“We need a better position,” I said. “Lucas! The staircase over the bathrooms—do you have the roof access key? Is there anything up there?’

Lucas turned pale and his eyes flicked to the cops. “Uh, no. There’s nothing up there.”

The shutters shook again. I said, “Cut the bullshit! What is it? Pot farm? Porn studio? Meth lab? Please tell me it’s a meth lab.”

“I don’t know!” Lucas shouted. “The landlord has a storage shed. I don’t have the key! He said it was parts for the air conditioners!”

“Get the roof unlocked,” Wells ordered. He turned around and raised his voice. “Everyone! Grab your bows and all the arrows you can carry! We’re going to make a stand on the roof!”

Rose said, “We’ll be right there.” She and Harmony stepped off to the side, speaking in hurried whispers.

The roof was still free of attackers, and the angry haggis hadn’t noticed us yet. He had dropped the mace and was trying to pull the bolts securing the shutters out of the wall. The only shelter available was the landlord’s steel shed, but even if we got the door open, it was too small to hold much in the way of supplies. We really could have used whatever it is that makes meth labs prone to blowing up.

Being surrounded by cyclone winds and a circling wall of black clouds was enough to convince even the skeptics we were in trouble. The BADASSES formed up and nocked arrows in record time. The regular customers took a few seconds longer, but in no more than half a minute everyone was armed and ready.

Jake called out, “First volley! Aim for the head! Nock and draw!” He waited until the angry haggis straightened up to get a better grip on the shutters. As soon as the whole head was visible, he shouted, “Loose!” Fourteen arrows sank into the ugly bastard’s forehead. He stumbled backward and collapsed.

Jake took three steps forward, calling out, “Nock and draw! First priority is anyone with a ranged weapon and anyone casting a spell! Aim for the head and fire at will!” As he spoke, he elevated his aim and fired at a figure wearing ruined robes. Everyone else began firing in earnest.

The ranks of dead guys charged the building. The first ones to reach the wall just grabbed it and stood there. More grabbed on to them, kneeled down, or climbed up and found something of their own to hang on to. In seconds, the first two ranks turned themselves into siege ladders, and the rest of the army started climbing up to attack us.

Ackerman ran to the edge, firing round after round into the supporting corpses’ skulls. Part of the line fell. More surged in to replace them. Ackerman fell back and reloaded his Glock while Wells stepped up to take over.

A dead woman wearing nothing but bits of broken jewelry popped up from behind one of the cars. She pointed at Wells and a bolt of lightning turned him into a spray of small wet chunks. I fired at her without aiming. The arrow pinned her to our Range Rover. Ackerman blew the top of her skull off.

A soldier did a salmon-leap onto the roof and hurled his axe at our line. It missed. Three arrows dropped him. Two more soldiers replaced him. One wore a steel helm—five arrows bounced off before Miranda got her Glock out and dropped him.

A single Dwarf in heavy plate broke off and charged the feed store. I snapped a shot at him. It bounced off his pauldron. Three guys armed with hand tools made a stand by the entrance, and he cut them down without stopping. His axe split the door down the middle. He ripped it away and vanished into the store.

I heard the screaming start, and looked for a way off the roof. Someone shouted my name. Jake was shaking my shoulder. He was shouting, telling me to hold the line. I shook his hand off and started toward the edge of the roof. As I did, half a dozen corpses heaved themselves onto the roof and took up a defensive formation protecting those climbing up behind them.