by Chris Fox
“All right,” Blair said. He gave a shrug and opened his fist. Their captives relaxed as one, suddenly in control of their bodies again. They scrambled away from Bridget as fast as they could, huddling near the giant gnarled roots of a capirona tree. “I do think Bridget should remain as she is for now. It might ‘incentivize’ them to follow through, and maybe it will mean I don’t need to poke around in anyone else’s head.”
I’m letting this go because you’re the leader and I don’t want to undermine you. Blair’s voice echoed through Liz's mind. But you cannot allow this sort of moral quandary to keep you from making hard decisions. Remember when we ran from what we’d become? What if we’d stuck around and woken the Mother immediately? How many more champions could we have created?
This is different, she thought back, struggling to suppress her anger. These are people, Blair. The people we’re supposed to protect. I know we’re fighting a war, but that doesn’t mean we use the same methods the enemy does. If we make that choice, what do we become? There are some lines I’m not willing to cross. You need to accept that.
All right, he agreed, though she could sense his reluctance. We’ll play this your way, but there’s a reason the good guy usually loses, Liz. It’s because the bad guy fights smart and isn’t hindered by arbitrary rules.
24
Hidden Rebel Base
Blair stifled his frustration as he followed the Peruvian police into their hidden rebel base, a series of crude tree houses built at the top of the mighty capirona trees common in this part of the jungle. Each had a trunk wider than his dining room table, some rising more than a hundred feet into the jungle’s thick canopy.
Ropes had been strung over some of the wider branches, allowing people to flit safely between houses. It was ingenious, really. Staying off the jungle floor meant avoiding deathless, just as mankind's ancestors had once avoided predators back when they’d roamed the plains of the Serengeti. It also provided a vantage over the surrounding jungle, allowing them to spot intruders before they arrived.
That’s exactly what had happened when their group had approached. The camp had erupted into activity, every member taking to the trees and arming themselves with a rifle. Each and every soldier glared down at them, ready to rain death if Blair and his friends proved a threat. More than a few shot terrified looks at Bridget’s lupine form.
The center of the camp was a fire pit surrounded by logs set far enough back to serve as comfortable seating. It was ringed by the six jeeps he'd seen in the leader's mind, each battered vehicle painted with the same olive so many militaries seemed to favor. He wasn’t sure how they’d even gotten them into the jungle, but the jeeps must be nimble if they’d made it this far. That would prove useful, though he wondered if fuel would be an issue.
“They are scared,” Rodrigo said, glancing up at his compatriots before turning back to Liz. His face was covered in mud but still noble somehow. Blair noticed that his hand never strayed too close to the pistol at his side. The rifle was slung over his shoulder, as non-threatening as he could make it. Having just been inside of the man’s mind, none of this surprised him. “I will not ask them to come down unless you insist. If all you wish is a vehicle, the sooner you take it the better for all.”
“We’ll be away shortly,” Liz said, pointedly ignoring Blair as she walked next to the dark-haired leader. That irked him, though he understood her reasoning. Maybe she was even right about him being too callous. It was a fine line to walk, one he knew he struggled with. “We don’t have time to waste. We’re chasing the thing that killed your people.”
“What did this?” Rodrigo asked, flinching when Liz reached up to comb her fingers through her hair. “We have run afoul of zombies, but there has been nothing else like the strangers who devoured our people. We heard the gunshots, but when we arrived they were all dead. They should have been able to reach the trees. Or at least run away, yet all of them were killed within just a few feet of each other. Their bodies were just…gone. It makes no sense.”
“Blair?” Liz asked, pausing at the circle of jeeps to face him.
“This was done by one of the deathless,” Blair explained, stepping forward to join them. He pointed up at the trees. “These defenses will work for now, because the deathless are still stupid and slow. That will change as they feed. They’ll get stronger and smarter. The thing that killed and ate your people was more advanced than the zombies you’ve seen. Much more. If we don’t stop him he’ll help his kind take over everything. Even if he doesn't you’re still going to face things you can’t deal with here.”
Bridget’s silver form joined their little group, but Rodrigo refused to look at her. He’d gone even more pale.
“How do we defend ourselves then? If we cannot hide here, we have nowhere else to go,” he explained, shoulders slumping. “Our people haven’t given up, but many are beginning to despair.”
“You’re not going go be able to do it here,” Jordan rumbled as he joined their little group. He gave an expansive gesture toward the southern wall of foliage. “You can escape quickly, but since it’s so open your enemies can come at you from all directions. You need somewhere with choke points so you can manage the flow of enemies. I don’t know that you’re going to find it in a jungle.”
“Even if we can, food is an issue,” Rodrigo admitted with a sigh. He leaned against one of the jeeps. “The jungle has enough of a bounty to sustain us, but many of our hunting parties do not return. Most went by themselves or as a pair. Yesterday we sent a larger party for the first time. As you know, they were killed by this—what did you call it? Deathless.”
“There is an option, but it’s dangerous,” Blair offered. It was crazy, but it was the only option he could think of. “There is a mine up in the mountains, about two days from here. Yanacocha. If you go there you will find a pyramid. Inside is a woman of incredible power, one we call the Mother. If you approach her and ask for aid, she can protect you from the deathless and see that you have food.”
“He’s right,” Liz agreed with a quick nod. Blair was genuinely surprised after their disagreement. “Getting there will be challenging, but if you treat her with respect, she’ll probably help you.”
“I’m guessing she’ll take you to Cajamarca,” he added. Blair removed his hat, squeezing it like a rag to ring out the sweat. “We’ve started gathering refugees there and they could use the protection you can offer. If some of you are willing to take a chance, you may even accept the gift from her. You could become like Bridget over there, strong enough to protect your people.”
“Whatever you choose is your decision,” Liz said, walking over to the jeep. “We won’t interfere, so long as you give us one of these. You offered food, but since it sounds like you’re struggling we don’t want to burden you further. We can fend for ourselves as long as you give us enough gas to get out of Columbia.”
“You can take this one. It has a full tank, which will get you as far as Columbia,” Rodrigo explained, opening the door and gesturing to Liz.
“How do we get out of the Jungle?” Liz asked, moving past Rodrigo and sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Follow that trail to the north. It winds down a steep road, but if you are careful you will be fine until it levels out. You will emerge along the bank of the Amazon, just across the border into Columbia. It’s not an easy journey, perhaps five or six days if you drive all day,” he explained, visibly relieved when Liz slammed the door behind her.
Blair removed his pack, moving to the far side of the jeep. He opened the rear door and slid inside. The pack fit neatly between his legs. Jordan jumped in the front passenger seat ahead of him, rolling down the window and positioning his rifle so he could fire if needed.
Bridget picked up her pack in a massive clawed hand, reaching inside for a camouflaged shirt. She began to shift, pulling it over her head as she did so. By the time she was human, she’d slid into the back seat next to Blair, her bare legs tantalizing. She gave him a knowing
smile as she caught what he’d been staring at.
He stared at the back of Liz’s head, conflicting emotions raging between them. What the hell did he want out of all this? It was going to be a long trip.
25
Waking Up
Trevor stared at himself in the small shaving mirror he’d taken from one of the corpses he’d devoured back in the jungle. Parts of it were familiar. He was still a freckled ginger, even if his face was more pale than it had been. His goatee was exactly the same. The hair had stopped growing when he’d died, so at least there was no more shaving.
He’d even retained the battered green baseball cap he’d brought when he, Blair and Liz had flown to Peru to wake the Mother. If someone didn’t look too closely, they might think he was the same man. That illusion was shattered the second he opened his mouth, especially if he smiled.
Every last tooth now ended in a sharp point, a mouthful of fangs sharks would envy. The scientist in him knew why of course. They were the most efficient way to rend flesh. Human teeth were largely flat because they were omnivores. He’d become a carnivore and subsisted purely on flesh. The tastiest kind was living human.
It amazed him how gratifying the simple act of staring at the mirror could be. For weeks now he’d been a prisoner trapped in his own body, unable to exert even rudimentary control. That had changed over the last two days, as he’d fed over and over. Each brutal act had horrified him, but the worst part was that feeding was already becoming normal. It revolted him less than it had yesterday. How long until he began to enjoy it?
He glanced at the camp, sizing up his companions. Irakesh sat on a wide rock near their little fire, leafing through a pocket-sized copy of the King James Bible liberated from one of their victims. He turned each page with deliberate care, treating the battered thing with a reverence Trevor found surprising.
Cyntia was curled up in a sleeping bag on the opposite side of the fire. Her heartbeat was slow and strong, breathing even and deep. She was asleep, thank god. He liked her and had things been different they might have become romantically involved. That was no longer possible, given what he’d become. Even if it were he didn’t like what was happening to her. Irakesh had encouraged Cyntia to feed often, and Trevor could already see it having an effect. Her gaze had grown wild, and she was more prone to violence. He wished he could tell her to flee, to get away from Irakesh.
“Your world is a very strange place,” Irakesh began, closing the tattered black bible. It was the sort a soldier might carry into combat. Irakesh set it on top of the backpack he’d recently salvaged. “This tome contains such strange mythology. Do your people really believe this?”
“A lot of them do,” Trevor admitted, unsure how to answer. Speaking still felt strange, but part of him was pleased that he could manage it now. “Or if not that book, then another book they claim is holy. I imagine you’d find them equally strange.”
“Genesis in particular amused me. The idea that earth was created in a single day by some sky god in robes? It’s preposterous,” Irakesh scoffed, rolling his eyes. The gesture seemed too normal somehow, out of place on his master’s monstrous face. “The world is far, far older than your people can conceive.”
“You might be surprised,” Trevor shot back, setting down the shaving mirror and taking off his hat. It was reflexive. He wasn’t sweating. He couldn’t sweat. “Our scientists estimate the world is about four and half billion years old. It will live another four to five billion before the sun goes out.” He squinted up at the brilliant orb, shading his eyes.
“Why do you scrunch your eyes like that?” Irakesh said, shaking his head with an amused smile. “We are deathless, not humans. The sun is our ally. Staring into the sun for at least three minutes a day is actually good for you.”
“Fuck,” Cyntia growled. Trevor glanced over to see her recoiling from the sun as she sat up in her sleeping bag. Had she just stared into it?
“I guess the same isn’t true for werewolves?” he said.
“Her kind rely on the moon,” Irakesh raised an eyebrow at Cyntia, delivering a look that bled contempt. “But I was speaking of your holy tome. This Bible. Did you know there is a passage that says…let me see." He picked the book up and thumbed to a slim page. “Ah yes, Timothy 2:12. My favorite absurdity thus far.” He cleared his throat, affecting a mocking pose. “'I do not permit a woman to teach nor to hold authority over a man; she must be quiet.' Do your people practice this? Isis will be furious.” He grinned like a mischievous frat kid who knew that a professor was about to be pranked.
“Yeah, that part only flies with a very small part of the world,” Trevor argued, a bit floored by the passage. He’d never really studied the bible, but he’d never heard that part. “Women are equal to men where I come from, at least legally. There’s still a wage gap, but it’s a lot better than it used to be.”
“You treated women as lesser beings?” Irakesh asked, looking at Trevor as if he'd sprouted a third eye. “They did not have all the legal rights of a man? I don’t understand how your society functioned.”
“Not well. So your society was matriarchal?” Trevor asked.
“Mine was, as were those Isis founded on this backward continent and the one to the north,” Irakesh said, shaking his head. “Not all were. Osiris ruled the sprawling continent north of the Cradle. There were others, though I had no dealings with them.”
“Is there nothing of our world you like?” Cyntia asked, hovering at the edge of the conversation. Trevor hadn't heard her get up, but then he rarely did unless she wanted to be heard. She settled on a stump not far from Trevor as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.
“Oh, yes, many things fascinate me,” Irakesh admitted, setting the book on a rock next to him. “It amazes me that nearly everyone possesses the ability to write. Very few learned in my own time, and most of those recorded religious texts or important history. We wrote on stone so our words would last. The idea of using this paper your kind discovered never occurred to us. For all of our advancements it seems your world has done things ours could not.”
“Were you there to see the creation of the deathless? What are we exactly?” Trevor asked, picking up his rifle and checking the slide for the fourth time in the last hour. The question had been bothering him, but he’d been reluctant to ask as he was still feeling his way with Irakesh.
“Ahh, I’ve been wondering when you’d find the courage to ask,” Irakesh said, a toothy smile slipping into place. He rose, moving to a tree stump near Trevor. “The deathless arose from the desperation of Isis. The woman you know as the Mother. In our time her lover Osiris lay dying. She sought a way to preserve his life, and after many trials and with the aid of my mother, she finally found or created the secret to eternal life."
“The Mother was responsible for making the deathless? I thought she created the werewolves,” Trevor asked. The two seemed contradictory.
“She created both,” Irakesh explained. He picked up a stick and sketched a shape that might have been Europe. “Isis, her mate Osiris, and my own mother Ra were born in this place.” He tapped an area near the northeast edge of the continent. Trevor wasn’t great at geography, but he guessed it was meant to be England. “They discovered the First Ark, the one with the greatest strength and largest store of knowledge. They were pursued by Set, a cruel and sadistic tyrant even I feared.
“She pioneered a science you might call genetic manipulation, the shaping of human DNA. She created a virus that would allow one to live forever, but with the unfortunate side effect of killing you first.”
“The zombie plague,” Trevor said, suddenly understanding.
“Just so,” Irakesh replied with a nod. He seemed to really enjoy the tale, each part punctuated by grand flourishes. “Initially Ra was adamantly opposed to the creation of the virus, but in time Set’s strength grew. In order to stop him, she accepted the virus and became one of the most powerful deathless.
“Isis tried to stop her, but the virus was po
tent,” Irakesh said, grin growing predatory. “It dramatically improved Ra's ability to shape. She was much, much more powerful than she’d been before. Where Isis had once been the undisputed master, now she was little more than an irritation. Ra could have killed her, but in honor of their centuries of friendship, she banished her from the Cradle. Isis fled to these shores, leaving Ra to rule. My mother forged a powerful army of deathless, using them to create an empire that spanned continents.”
“That’s horrible,” Trevor said, aghast at the slaughter.
“Is it?” Irakesh asked, raising an eyebrow. He seemed genuinely confused. “Why?”
“I can’t speak for your time, but my world had seven billion people. Almost all of them are dead now because of what she did,” he explained. Irakesh merely laughed.
“Seven billion people. I can see from the memories I’ve ingested that this world has been poisoned. The oceans are filled with your refuse and at the same time empty of fish. Thousands of species have been wiped out. Forests cut down. You’ve gutted this world, prying every resource you can from her dying body,” Irakesh said. He shook his head sadly. “Our kind are violent. Brutal. Yet we exist in harmony with our environment. We keep the population in check, and it is a good thing. Only through the virus will this world have a chance to heal. Those you call innocents are choking the life from her. So tell me, Trevor Gregg, which is a better world? One poisoned and robbed of resources, or one where the deathless rule over a controlled society? One that exists in harmony with its surroundings.”
Trevor didn’t answer immediately. His heart said that the deathless were wrong. They were unnatural and shouldn’t exist. Yet Irakesh’s words made sense. Humanity had raped the world and if something like the zombie plague hadn’t come along, how long would it have been before they wiped out all life?