Legion of the Undead

by Michael Whitehead

  “Yes, can you please get one of the girls to come in and freshen the air in here. Our last guest has left a smell behind him.” He put a strain on the word guest that Paulus would pick up on.

  Paulus smiled, “Very good, sir.” He left the room, closing the door behind him quietly.

  It was typical of the man, that Otho had insisted on having the meeting an hour before sunset. It meant that Domitius would find himself walking home, across Rome, as the curfew started.

  A man of his senatorial rank could break a curfew with no problems, but it meant he would have to explain himself at least once, on the way home.

  He travelled with a retinue of six guards, privately hired. Not how he would choose to travel normally. To be seen as cowardly was political suicide and Domitius suspected it was another reason Otho had set the meeting this late.

  It was yet another reason to curse this appointment. It weakened his position in almost every way. Until he succeeded in solving this mystery, he would hear the ticking of a clock at all times.

  The barracks of the Praetorian guard was surrounded by a low, sandstone wall and the sound of orders being issued emanated from inside.

  Domitius announced himself to the duty guard and waited impatiently to be allowed inside. With the Emperor’s seal on everything they did, the Praetorian guard had almost free rein inside the city. In their own barracks they almost had the power of small gods and exercised those powers whenever possible.

  Domitius was escorted inside the compound by a centurion. He was imposingly large and wore armour that had been polished to a shine only the imperial palace would expect. This was the cream of the legionary crop. Years of experience had mounded every one of these men into the finest Rome had to offer. It was a fact that gave the man he was about to see most of his power.

  Otho was not in his office when Domitius was shown in. The centurion stood at the door while Domitius sat at the visitor's side of the big desk. The urge to tap his fingers was almost unbearable.

  Just who did Otho think he was to treat him this way? Exercising a little leverage was one thing but to outright disrespect him was another, entirely.

  The man finally seemed to have kept the praetor waiting long enough, as he entered the office. However, as Domitius started to talk, Otho held up a hand and cut him off.

  “Have the men ready to parade in one hour, Centurion, I want to inspect them before we head out.” The centurion smiled and saluted, knowing that his superior officer had once again taken the chance to humiliate the praetor.

  Prefect Otho finally turned to Domitius and said, “Yes, Praetor. What can I do for you?”

  Domitius took a second to calm himself, a show of anger would only please the man in front of him. He sat there in his, admittedly fine and imposing armour, and gloated. It would be unwise to give him more to gloat about.

  “As you well know, Otho, I’m here for your report. I wish to know what, if anything, your men have found out over the last couple of nights.” He knew the prefect hated people to call him anything but his rank, and the use of his name was a deliberate barb that he couldn’t resist.

  “No need, praetor. I gave all the information I have directly to the emperor this afternoon. He is fully apprised of the situation.”

  Domitius seethed inwardly. This was just too much. How could he be expected to do his job properly, if at every turn this man put obstacles in his way. He took another deep breath and put every ounce of his will into sounding unimpressed.

  “Maybe you could save me the trouble of asking him for a report and deliver one yourself? After all it is me, not you, that the emperor put in charge of this investigation.”

  Otho paused, put his fingers together and looked over the top of them.

  “Tell me, praetor, how many of your men are putting themselves in danger, walking the streets at night?”

  “That is hardly the point, we each have our roles to play.” Domitius hated himself for being drawn into an argument that he couldn’t win.

  “I would say it’s entirely the point. Why should you get the glory that would come from my men catching the gang responsible?”

  “I’m not after any glory, Otho. I just want this situation sorted as quickly as possible. The emperor is watching both of us. What harm is there in working together, rather than against each other.”

  “Very well, praetor. Let us share information. What have you managed to find out so far?”

  Domitius gritted his teeth. There was always a cost when talking to this man, this time though, he was willing to pay it.

  “Almost nothing, Prefect. Nobody is talking. I’ve had members of the usual gangs spoken to, and nobody knows a thing. All I’ve managed to find out, is that it isn't one of the established gangs that are is responsible.”

  Prefect Otho took a long while to answer but when he did, his face was free from hostility.

  “In that case, Domitius, you know as much as I do. My men have turned up no suspects. They have no idea why the people are being taken, nor how.”

  “Seriously? This is disappointing, indeed.” Domitius looked grave. “How did the emperor take the news?”

  “He is worried, extremely worried. These villains are making him look bad. How can he lead, if he can’t keep his people safe?”

  “Indeed.” Domitius was silent for a long moment. “What do you suggest we do next?

  “I don’t think we have any choice but to carry on the way we are going. My men are under orders to come down hard on anything that looks at all suspicious. Even if it has nothing to do with all this. We will get lucky if the gods will it.”

  “We can only hope. We need to work together over this, prefect. I see no other way to resolve the situation. I will continue to work through my contacts, and you keep doing what you are doing. Hopefully, we can meet in the middle with the criminals between us.”

  Otho stood and held out his hand. Domitius was about to shake his hand when Otho moved his hand and took him in a legionary grip. He squeezed the Praetors wrist hard enough that Domitius could feel the bones in his arm grinding together. He tried and failed to keep his reaction off his face but managed not to cry out. Otho grinned as he let his arm go.

  “Go safely Praetor, the curfew is in effect. Do you need a couple of my men to escort you home?”

  Domitius shook his head, not daring to speak in case his voice gave away the pain he was in. He turned and left the Prefect's office. He was sure that Otho knew he was still within earshot when he began to laugh loudly.

  The silent streets closed in on the group as they moved in the darkness. The single lamp lit enough of the street to make a man realise how many hiding places there were.

  They moved quickly and without speaking. In the distance, voices and cat calls could be heard. It seemed that not all people were willing to honour the curfew. At times like these, there were always individuals willing to take advantage of the darkness for there own ends. Looting was rife and much worse crimes, like rape, became more prevalent.

  They were not far from the Praetor's home, when they were stopped by a voice from the darkness. As he spoke, a legionary of the Praetorian Guard stepped into sight.

  “Stop, why are you on the streets? You know there is a curfew in place.”

  Domitius ordered his men to halt and called from his place between them.

  “Praetor Domitius, we have had business with your commanding officer, Prefect Otho.”

  The soldier took his time before answering. “Go with care, Praetor. These streets are dangerous. You wouldn’t wish to become a victim, I’m sure.” He spoke in such a way that Domitius was left wondering, when safe at home, whether he had been warned or threatened.

  As he sat in his study later that night mulling over the events of the day, he was at least grateful of one thing. As vicious as Otho could be, he would stop at nothing to solve this problem. The dog would never miss the chance to lick his master’s hand.

  The question was, could Domitius beat the
man too to it? If he failed, he could kiss the chance of a Consulship goodbye.

  However, was he to be the one to solve the mystery, he could write his own ticket to the higher echelons.

  He sent up a silent prayer to the house gods to be the one to come out of this covered in glory.

  He slept little that night. When he did, he dreamed of looming shadows over the streets of Rome. The houses poured with blood, and the imperial palace itself crumbled to dust as he watched. He woke with sweat beading on his forehead and a sick feeling in his stomach.

  Something about this whole affair was amiss. Nothing about hundreds of people going missing was right, but something was much more wrong than that. He couldn’t put his finger on it yet. He just had to hope he could, before it became too late.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Vitus looked into the eyes of all of his remaining companions before he opened the gates to the barracks. He needed to know they were ready for what was to come. There had been no sign of the city garrison in the time they had been there.

  He signalled to move and his reduced group followed him out into the street. There were a couple of Risen eating a corpse in the middle of the road. They were oblivious of everything around them as they dipped their faces into the body.

  Regulus and Lucia moved in silently and drove blades into the backs of their heads. They fell face forward, into the opened chest cavity of the woman from whom they had been feeding.

  They made their way across the street and into the shadows of an alleyway. Piles of rubbish and filth were scattered everywhere, the gathered detritus of too many people, living in too little space. A man ran across the entrance at the top end of the alley and Vitus brought them to a halt. They watched as a group of three Risen followed him. Vitus saw very plainly that they were almost running, another sign that they were getting stronger.

  None of the people, living or dead, looked towards them and they continued on their way, using anything they could as cover. They used the alleys between houses and back streets as much as they could.

  As they passed the busier roads, they saw large groups of Risen, seemingly hunting in packs. The new behaviour from an already dangerous foe sent chills down his spine. It would seem not only the dogs were using predatory instincts now.

  As they went from alley to alley, they passed behind a large group of the living, waiting behind a makeshift barrier built in the road. They held kitchen knives and makeshift clubs. Vitus considered stopping and helping, but denied the feeling.

  He had made decisions that had led to loss of life already, he would do his best to keep the rest of his group out of trouble. The panic on the streets of Mutina only served to remind him how important it was to warn Rome, if he could get there in time.

  The going was slow, but they made progress towards the city gate by which they had entered. Single Risen were quickly dispatched, and smaller groups caused them little problems. It was almost half an hour after leaving the barracks that they encountered their first real danger.

  They were heading down a small, narrow backstreet when a Risen dropped, seemingly from the sky, at the feet of Vitus who was leading the group.

  It came down hard and hit the concrete floor of the alley with a thud. It missed him by a couple of feet. Vitus heard the bones in the creature's legs snap on impact. The Risen did not pause, instead it started to crawl towards him.

  Vitus dispatched the dead man with a short, curved blow to the top of its head. As he did, more began to fall from above them. Spilling, like water over a fall, from the roof of a building above them.

  They could see the end of the street but it was a fair distance away.

  “Run!” Vitus shouted. The rest did not need to be told twice.

  They sprinted, doing their best to avoid the falling bodies. It became more difficult to run while looking up, as more dropped. The fallen were mostly unable to get to their feet but they became a hazard to the group as they reached out for legs and feet.

  Regulus went down as a Risen fell onto his shoulder with a heavy thump. He rolled away and tried to kick the snapping, furious creature off him, but his back was against a wall and he couldn’t free his legs.

  The mouth was only inches from his flesh as Lucia put the point of her blade into the base of the Risen’s skull. She pulled him from under the rotting body and the two of them hurried to catch up with the others.

  More bodies fell and the floor of the alleyway was thick with reaching arms and snapping mouths. Vitus swung his sword at hands and heads as they presented themselves to him. He didn’t slow, but continued to lash out in hope that he could make the run less treacherous for those who followed.

  The end of the street opened up onto the widest carriageway they had yet crossed. To their right they saw a pitched battle, raging between the city watch and a very large group of the Risen. The soldiers were being backed up the street but they were taking down a good number of Risen in return.

  Vitus lead his party across the street and into another dark walkway between two rows of tenement buildings. Halfway down the passage Vitus heard a thump behind him and Lucia let out a strangled scream.

  He turned in time to see Regulus laying facedown on the alleyway floor and Lucia was nowhere to be seen. There was a door next to Regulus’ prone form.

  “Make sure he’s alright and stay with him,” he said to Tatius.

  The man nodded grimly, and Vitus opened the door onto a steep stairwell. The stairs went up and around a blind corner. He drew his sword and carefully but quickly made his way up the steps.

  At every corner he expected to be ambushed, but after the third one he heard Lucia trying to cry out and he quickened his pace. There was a landing with two doors leading from it at the top of the next stairway.

  Vitus was trying to listen at each door in turn when he heard Lucia call out again from above him. He ran up the next flight of stairs until he came to a single door.

  He eased the door open onto a flat roof and saw three men. One was trying to pin Lucia to the floor, he had both of her wrists in one large hand and had them held above her head. With his free hand, he was trying to lift her tunic but she was putting up a frantic fight.

  She kneed him and kicked out at him. Only the closeness of the two of them saved him from sustaining enough damage to make him let go. He swiped a hand across her face and Lucia spat up at him.

  The other two men were standing, watching, and catcalling while this fight went on. None of the men were aware that Vitus had followed them up the stairs.

  He stepped out onto the roof, sword ready, as he did he drew his dagger with his left hand. The would be rapist remained ignorant as Vitus slid his sword deep into the man on the right, from behind. He fell to his knees, gagging and spat a spray of blood into the air in front of him.

  This finally got the attention of the second man, who was dancing from one foot to the other, gripping his groin in both hands. He died that way, with a stupid look on his face and his erect member in his hand. He saw the spray of blood and managed to say “Uh?” Before Vitus sliced into his throat with his dagger.

  The rapist finally became aware of his danger and rolled off Lucia. As he did, he grabbed her hair and dragged her in front of him. Lucia screamed with pain and anger but the man wrapped his other arm around her throat, in his hand he held a short knife.

  “Fuck off or the girl dies,” he spat at Vitus. He was a big man who looked like he last visited the public baths when Augustus was emperor.

  “Easy, no-one else needs to get hurt,” said Vitus very slowly, inching forward, almost unnoticeably.

  The big man pulled at Lucia's hair, making her squeal. “One more step and I’ll do more than hurt her. Now put the sword down and step away. She’s mine now and I’m going to have her. The world is turning to shit and there is no way I’m letting one of those things get me before I get one more fuck.”

  Vitus stopped and let his sword drop to the floor. He held up the hand that wasn’t hold
ing the dagger.

  “Easy. I’ve dropped the sword. Let her go and we can all walk away from this and live to see another day.”

  “You think I’m fucking stupid or something?” He said. “Put down the fucking knife or I stick this blade into this girl's stomach, then I kill you. I figure if she’s still alive when I’ve finished you off, I might as well fuck her anyway.”

  Vitus bent to put the knife down. As he did, he looked up and saw something that gave him a little hope. Far from beaten and helpless, Lucia had a steel glint in her eye. He was sure the would be rapist was hurting her but not as much as she was letting on. He tried to buy some time and spoke to him from his kneeling position.

  “Look, I’m putting it down. Now please, let her go.”

  “Fuck you,” he said and took the knife from Lucia's throat, presumably to stick the blade into her midriff. She took the chance and latched onto his forearm then bit as deep and as hard as she could, instantly drawing blood.

  He reacted out of instinct, throwing her as hard as he could away from him. She rolled across the flat roof, crying out as she did. Vitus had a split second where he saw blood around her mouth and couldn’t help seeing her as she might look if she became one of the dead.

  As he threw Lucia, the big man left himself open to attack. Vitus launched the knife underhanded towards his face. It glanced off his cheek but gave Vitus the chance to spring forward and drive himself into the man's stomach.

  He barrelled into him and brought a fist up heavily into the rapist's groin. There was a satisfying moment when he made hard contact with soft flesh before the man went down, doubled over his own damaged manhood.

  Vitus got to his feet, kicked the attacker hard in the face and saw a spray of blood issue from his broken nose. He stopped for a second to make sure the man was down and not getting back up, before turning to Lucia.

  She was getting to her feet, a little wobbly but otherwise unharmed. He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. The steely look was fading fast, as the first wave of shock hit her. She crumbled into his arms and he held her tight, wanting, hoping to give her something to hold onto after such a terrifying ordeal. After a while they both turned back to the prone figure who lay on the floor and moaned up at them.