Desolace Omnibus Edition

by Lucian Barnes

  There was no way that he would make it to the other side in daylight. Hell, he'd be lucky to make it out before morning at the pace he would have to go to maximize his safety. That meant he should probably find a place before darkness fell to hide out until morning. It would be far too risky to travel at night, when zombies could be lurking in the shadows, unseen until it was too late.

  He made up his mind to at least keep going for another hour or so, to give himself time to find a suitable hiding place. At the moment, the landscape was dotted with more houses than anything else, but from the looks of things the buildings grew into enormous skyscrapers in a few miles.

  Just then, there was a clank from somewhere ahead. He ducked down behind a car sitting at the curb, trying to determine where the noise had come from. It echoed through the street, making the sound seem like it was coming from all around him. He studied the area quietly from behind the parked car. The noise did not repeat itself and he saw no movement ahead.

  He rose from cover and began to make his way up the street. As he approached a break in the buildings, he heard another noise. It was a softer sound, much like something being dragged or scraped across the pavement.

  Cautiously, he moved to the edge of the house nearest the alley and peered around the corner. Great! More zombies! He ducked back out of sight and considered his options. The alleyway was about fifteen to twenty feet wide. He could make it if he moved quickly, but only if the zombies weren't looking in his direction at the time of his attempt.

  He peeked around the corner again. Of the handful of zombies he could see, most were milling idly around near a garbage can. One, however, had lost interest in what the others were doing and was shuffling his way up the alley toward Brian. He had run out of time to think of a solution to the dilemma, so he boldly dashed across the alley.

  He made it most of the way to the cover of the house on the opposite side when the zombie noticed him. It hissed and picked up its pace at the sight of a fresh meal. The others, drawn by the commotion of the lone zombie, whipped their heads around to see what was happening. Moments later, they were in hot pursuit of the loner.

  As soon as Brian heard the hiss, he knew he'd been spotted. He took off running down the sidewalk, hoping to get out of sight before the zombie exited the alley. He got to the corner of the next block and took a brief look back over his shoulder. So far, so good. He darted to his left and crossed the street. The houses on this block were only separated by about five feet.

  Ahead, there was a home with a large bush in the front corner that nearly took up the space between one house and the next. He quickly made his way behind it, glancing back in the direction he'd just come from. So far, nothing. The only sound he could hear right now was the pounding of his pulse in his frozen ears. He kept his eyes glued to the corner, peering over the top of the bush, waiting to see the small herd of zombies as he fought to catch his breath.

  Once the first one appeared, he held his breath. He hoped that it hadn't seen which way he had gone, and that he could hold his breath long enough that they wouldn't see the steam escaping his lips.

  The zombie showed no indication that it had seen Brian as it continued across the street. Moments later, the rest of the small group followed.

  He lowered himself behind the bush and let out the breath he'd been holding. As his breathing evened out, he could hear them again. From what he could tell, it sounded like the group had continued on their way up the street.

  Turning his attention, he looked back at the space between the two houses. At the rear corner of one he could see a door. Thinking it to be his best option right now, he walked back to it in a half crouch. As he reached for the knob, he hoped it would be a safe place to hide for the night. Thankfully, the door wasn't locked and the knob turned easily. He quickly made his way inside and shut the door, turning the deadbolt.

  Once the door was closed, Brian found himself in almost complete darkness. With the sun setting there was only a sliver of light coming through the windows of the house. Rather than risk injury stumbling through an unfamiliar home in the dark, Brian decided it would be best to just curl up near the door.

  Part Two

  Chapter 1

  Ever since reaching Outpost 12, George had started reverting more and more to his former self. No longer did the Black Knight invade the majority of his waking thoughts, and with that came the freedom to more or less doing what he pleased. His trips to The Factory became less frequent, as more often than not he kept the prizes for himself.

  He found it much simpler to stay in one area, and since he wasn't herding large groups of people from nearby towns he could operate for longer periods of time without raising alarm. Once every few days, George would venture out into one of the nearby towns, of which there were three within a half day's ride from the Outpost. He would pick up food, supplies, and one woman on each of his trips. Thankfully, as he had hoped, there was another of the strange mechanical horses waiting outside when he arrived at this Outpost.

  He held each woman captive inside, much in the same manner he had done back on Earth. Although, he did have to improvise. The same materials were not readily available to him here, so his torture methods became more crude. He supposed that he could ask for such implements to be made for him at The Factory, but he didn't want to raise suspicion about his intentions for their use. Besides, since there wasn't anyone nearby enough to hear the screams of his victims, none of that other stuff was really necessary. Rope, a cutting implement, such as his sword, and a leather riding crop that he'd pilfered on one of his expeditions, was all he truly needed. A swift blow from the hilt of his sword to the back of his victim's head would be sufficient to keep them quiet.

  Speaking of which, his latest treasure seemed to be waking up. He could hear soft groans coming from the room behind him, which was situated in the same exact place and was furnished in the same manner as Outpost 13. After the déjà vu had worn off, he had laughed as he entered this Outpost.

  Everything, from the doors leading down to Morgana and to outside, the monitors along the wall, and the furnishings in the bunkhouse, were identical to the other Outpost. He had almost thought that he had fallen asleep on Morgana and forgotten to press the button to bring him here, thinking that he'd walked up all those stone stairs for nothing.

  It wasn't until he realized that this Outpost was clean, with the exception of some dust and cobwebs, and didn't have the stench inside like the other one did. Then, and only then, did he realize it was a different building even though his eyes insisted that it wasn't.

  His victim was definitely awake now. "Is anyone here?" her voice cracked.

  George picked up the whip from beside the monitor and walked to the room. He stopped in the doorway and waited a moment for her to notice his presence.

  Seeing a shadow move over the floor, she lifted her head. "Oh, thank ..." she began, then swallowed hard as she saw the silhouette of a large man standing in the doorway. Her mind reeled, trying desperately to figure out what was happening. Why is he just standing there? Her eyes frantically tried to focus, darting around nervously to see if there was something else nearby that he was looking at. It was at that moment that she realized her clothing had been removed.

  The woman tried to cover herself, but realized she was bound. She struggled furiously against the ropes that held her in place, but each wrist was firmly encircled with rope and tied to the opposite corners of the bed frame behind her. She looked down and saw that her ankles were bound in the same fashion. Maybe she could sit on the bed to relieve some of the tension and perhaps get enough slack to free one of her hands. The silhouette in the doorway stood there, unmoving. As she attempted to sit down, the rope around her neck grew taut. Immediately, she stood up again. She hadn't felt the rope around her neck before.

  Now, she began to panic. She heard heavy footsteps and saw that the man had started coming toward her, if indeed it was a man.

  He laughed maniacally as he stopped before
her. "I can smell the fear, dripping from your every pore," he taunted, sniffing at the air, inches from her neck.

  She let loose a high-pitched, blood curdling scream, hoping that someone would hear her and come to her aid. The only thing her scream seemed to accomplish was making her captor mad.

  The scream had hurt his ears, and in the aftermath of it George felt like he'd been temporarily deafened. The only thing he could hear was his own blood, pounding in his skull like a jackhammer. "You stupid bitch!" he growled, lashing out with the whip. The blow landed with such force that it peeled a strip of flesh from her side, near the bottom of her ribcage.

  She screamed again. It didn't have the volume of the previous one and didn't last as long either, because the blow had taken her breath away.

  George continued to flail the woman, each stroke taking a chunk of flesh with it. A minute or so later, the screaming stopped. The woman had passed out, whether from pain or blood loss George didn't know or care. Her body sagged limply forward, the neck restraint keeping her from falling to the floor. He stood there for a few minutes, waiting to see if she would regain consciousness before the rope around her neck strangled her.

  Chapter 2

  The Black Knight's anger began to boil over. Nothing seemed to be going right. First, that insignificant little worm of a human being, whom he'd thought would be easy to manipulate, was beginning to return to his old ways, ignoring his obligations. How am I supposed to accomplish what I set out to do if I can't trust my recruit to be loyal? He got up from his throne, backhanding the impish looking creature that stood before him, awaiting his command. He roared in frustration, causing all of his minions to cower in fear.

  He stomped about in front of his throne, pacing back and forth as he thought about something even more pressing. He stopped for a moment, his claw-like toenails clicking impatiently on the concrete floor of his chamber. One of the Gods of this world had to be the one behind his recent failures, right? Surely this rag-tag group of adventurers weren't thwarting his plans all on their own.

  Still, he couldn't figure out who had placed the strange looking portal down near the underground river that had allowed the group to escape. Not that he didn't have ways of getting to wherever they'd gone. It was merely a matter of his attention being torn in too many directions. The only thing that he felt was in his favor, was the fact that the portal had disappeared after they'd gone through. Hopefully, they wouldn't be able to get back to this world.

  After much thought, the Black Knight strode into the antechamber off to the left of his throne room. The chamber was crowded with ghost-like figures, demons that had no definite shape and lacked a physical body to tie them to this world or any other. They could infest, or possess, anyone or any thing they desired, but lacked direction and focus. Thoughtfully, the Black Knight scratched his chin, and then issued his orders.

  Chapter 3

  George began untying the ropes from his recently deceased victim. "Stupid blonde," he muttered with contempt. Once the rope around her neck was loosened, he moved to untie her feet, then her hands. Once free of her bindings, he hefted her body onto his shoulder. He carried her outside and laid her body in the grass about fifty feet from the building. Not wasting any more time, he drew his sword and lopped off her head.

  He grabbed a hold of her hair, and lifted up the head to face him. "Welcome to my newest collection," he said softly, kissing her cool lips. A wicked smile played across his face as he took the head back to the building, placing it on the ground beside the door.

  He turned for a moment and regarded the rest of her body. He had a vision just then that inspired him. He would leave the body where it was for now, waiting for it to fully bleed out.

  Placing his hand into the strange hand print that he knew to be the door handle, George turned it to the side and the door slid noiselessly open. He stepped inside and went to the rolling chair in front of the monitors. He really wanted to take a nap, but he would have to take care of business first.

  As he sat down, George began to study the monitors. They were labeled in the same manner as were the ones in the previous Outpost. Everything looked identical to what he'd seen before, with the exception of the exterior view of the building he currently occupied. He liked the view outside this one considerably better. It brought a smile to his face, seeing his latest victim in the monitor like watching one of the horror films he used to love.

  Lacing his fingers behind his head, he leaned back and closed his eyes. He watched the scene unfold in his mind like his own private movie, even though he already knew how this movie would end.

  He must have drifted off, because a vision involving the Black Knight jolted him back to reality. In this dream, if that's what it was, the Black Knight had sent an army of mechanical creatures after him. Nothing George did would harm the robotic mass bent on destroying him. He tried to flee, but before long the army cornered him and began tearing the flesh from his bones.

  George shivered as he recalled the vision. Was it supposed to be some kind of warning, sent telepathically to get him back in control? Perhaps it was a vision of what his fate would be if he continued to ignore the will of the Black Knight?

  He shook his head to clear the image, thinking that he was letting his imagination get the better of him. What did he have to worry about? He hadn't seen, or heard from, the Black Knight for quite some time now, likely he had more important things to deal with. He gazed at the monitor before him and sighed. Usually when he claimed the life of a victim he would feel exhilarated. However, for some reason, today he just felt run down and weary. He wanted nothing more than to get this over with.

  Pushing the chair back from the monitors, he stood up and went to the door leading down to the underground river. He turned the wheel set into it until the lock retracted. He pulled the door open, making sure it was opened wide enough for him to carry the body through, then went out the front door to retrieve the body.

  The ground around the neck was saturated with blood, but as he inspected the wound he saw that the bleeding had stopped. Sure, there would likely still be more in the body since he hadn't hung it like cattle to drain, but it shouldn't be too bad.

  Bending down, he hefted the body onto his shoulder. He held her legs tightly to his chest to prevent it from shifting too much, and went back inside. He looked at the stone stairway leading down to the river, dreading the back and forth, but also thankful that this stairway wasn't as long as the one that led from Outpost 13.

  About ten minutes had passed when George reached the bottom. "You're fish food now, darling," he said wearily, as he tossed the body into the river a few feet behind the place where Morgana sat. He watched as the body sank, not realizing just how clear the water of the river was until that very moment. As the body came to rest near the bottom, he was amazed that he could still see it.

  One day, someone is going to make a gruesome discovery down here, he chuckled to himself. As he turned and began his journey back to the Outpost, and his bed, George noticed the trail of blood droplets, leading the way like bread crumbs.

  Chapter 4

  After sending his ghostly minions off on their individual errands, the Black Knight returned to his throne. He pulled a lever beside it and the stone dais his chair rested upon began to turn counter-clockwise. It stopped after spinning one hundred and eighty degrees, bringing the Black Knight face to face with his own bank of monitors. Unlike the Outposts above, there were many more of them. All of which gave him access to virtually every corner of Desolace.

  He reached out and touched the screen directly in front of him with a long, skeletal finger. The image zoomed in a little closer. On the screen, his one-time pet human was closing the inner door of the Outpost, the one leading to the underground river. The Black Knight widened the angle of the image as George started to move out of sight. He continued to watch as his delinquent minion went into the other room and laid down on one of the beds.

  "Go to sleep now, my wayward friend. S
oon, very soon, you will change your tune," the Black Knight cackled madly, rubbing his bony hands together in delight.

  Turning his attention to the monitor beside it, he watched with growing amusement as a couple of his ghostly minions appeared on the screen, infiltrating The Factory and taking possession of some of the unfinished works on the tables.

  The workers had gone to bed for the night, so there was no need to have the normal retinue of guards present. His minions had gotten in undetected. When the infested machinery was finally assembled, George would be in for a hell of a surprise. The Black Knight could not contain his elation, the glow of his yellow eyes reflecting back at him from the surface of the monitor. His long, pointed teeth were just barely visible in the reflection as he grinned.

  He turned to the monitor on the opposite side of the one showing George, now sleeping soundly. The display showed an image of almost complete destruction and devastation. Large buildings, foreign to the world of Desolace, stood like dark sentinels in the background. He watched as more of his minions flitted in and out of view, wondering if the displayed image was showing him where the annoying group of adventurers had gone. He suspected that it was, although he couldn't see them making it out of the scenario before him, even without intervention from his minions.

  He didn't know if they would find anything useful to inhabit, or if it would even be necessary, because there didn't seem to be anything his minions could possess in this charred version of reality.

  Everything, it seemed, was going according to plan. His success seemed to be inevitable and rapidly approaching. Soon, the fruits of his labors would come to bear. His army would then crush the pathetic Gods of this world, and any other for that matter, and leave him as the supreme being that all would be forced to bow down to.