Forgotten Gods Boxed Set 2

by S T Branton

  “Oh, shit! That’s a fucking zombie!”

  Chapter Ten

  This is inaccurate nomenclature, Victoria. He is almost certainly in the thrall of an as yet unseen master, but this unfortunate man is not a zombie, as you say.

  “How the hell not?” I demanded, forgetting at the moment that Marcus’s voice was only in my head. “Look at him. That’s seventy-five percent of modern horror movies right there.”

  Jules and I both backpedaled, and Deacon and Luis caught up.

  He looks the part, but he is not strictly dead. Lawless or not, Forgotten terminology does have rules.

  “I used to have friends who said they were prepping for this day,” Luis remarked with grim amusement. “And I used to laugh at them. Guess I should’ve taken notes instead.” Without further ado, he raised his hunting rifle, steadied the iron sights, and fired a single shot. The bullet pierced the zombie through the top of his head, which flopped back on a nonresistant neck. The zombie staggered, almost fell, and righted himself at the last instant. A thin stream of blood trickled from the hole in his cranium. “Damn. I thought that was supposed to drop ʼem.”

  Far from immobilized, the zombie remained on track, its footfalls slow but unwavering. That was when I noticed others stirring inside the windows of the mall suites, shuffling up to the glass. “I think I know where everybody went,” I said.

  “Oh, my God.” Jules gripped her handgun so tightly, her knuckles were white. “They’re all converted. All of them.”

  “Must be a god,” Deacon added. “Now, we have to find that son of a bitch.”

  The doors to the drugstore slid open as soon as he finished speaking, revealing yet another shadowy form. Taller than the others, long-limbed and impossibly thin, this one cut a distinctly inhuman silhouette against the harsh lighting inside the building. I picked out gaunt, sunken features, eyes that were sparks in pools of darkness, and a lipless mouth. Its motions were almost too fluid as if the laws of physics didn’t apply.

  “Yep,” I muttered. “It’s a god, all right. A goddamn zombie god. Marcus, anything I need to know?”

  This one has a frightening visage, but his power falls far below that of even Rocca and Beleza. He draws his strength from spawning hordes such as the one you are about to encounter.

  “Name?” I asked. A sharp crack pierced the air, followed by the noise of glass shards raining into the lot. “No, scratch that. I don’t give a shit.” I brought the blade out. “Whatever his name is, he’ll be as dead as the Roman empire soon. Shit. Sorry, Marcus. Too soon?”

  I have had two millennia to come to terms with my former homeland’s fall. Just focus on not meeting the same fate in this parking lot.

  “Good call.” I instructed my team, “Focus on the horde. I’ll go after the boss man here.”

  Luis’s rifle popped off. “On it, chief.”

  I nodded and set my sights on the walking skeleton approaching. He didn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry, but as the gap between us closed, his mouth widened into a hideous, leering grin. The contours of his skull stood out starkly beneath his skin. He spoke with the rotted stump of a tongue.

  “It appears the god-killer rumors are true. For that, I must salute you.” The smile widened even more, splitting the corners of his mouth. His voice was at once dry and moldy, a repulsive, hoarse warble. “You are the reason a path has been cleared for riffraff such as I, long scorned by the more powerful among my brethren, to claim a slice of this cursed world as it plummets into oblivion. I thank you sincerely. It is almost a shame that you should meet your death, but”—he chuckled, and a chill raced down my spine—“you are a human, after all.”

  “So were they,” I retorted, indicating the minions who pressed on stubbornly under triple gunfire. A small contingent of them had peeled off toward me, their arms hanging as they dragged their feet. “There’s no forgiving what you’ve done here.”

  “Well,” the god replied. “Thank goodness I never asked.” The white gleam in his eyes intensified until it swallowed the darkness inside the sockets, and a beam arced toward me. The energy itself seemed to be infected with sickness. It was flecked with gangrenous black spots. The path it traveled carved a channel in the pavement, which gave rise to a powerful smell of decay.

  I leapt to the side and dashed forward into range. The god, still nameless, stretched away to the very end of my reach, that grinning face still taunting me. With the very tip of the Gladius Solis, I fished for a shred of the clothes hanging off the emaciated frame, but they dangled beyond reach. One thin hand snaked up and latched around my wrist, encircling my skin with bone-chilling cold.

  “You could join them,” said the zombie god. “It would be simple. A trivial thing. All you have to do is succumb.”

  “Why don’t you suck cum, you undead pervert?” I jerked my arm free so forcefully that the top knuckle of one of his fingers snapped. It knit itself together almost immediately. “Kiss my ass, Jolly Roger.” The sword flashed forward, and this time, it perforated his chest area, tearing a hole in the ruined garments. I caught a brief glimpse of something black and pulsing like a tumor in his paper-white chest.

  That is his heart. Piercing it should destroy him.

  Simple enough. I repositioned for another attack, only for the god to fade back toward the drugstore as his self-made horde flooded between us. The zombies were still brutally slow, but they were strong, too, and the first one I met swept me into an unrelenting bear hug. Although I managed to keep my hold on the Gladius Solis, it was pinned by my side. The blade burned disturbingly close to my flesh, which I quickly realized was still as fragile as anyone else’s.

  “Hey!” I kicked viciously, forcing my knee up into my assailant’s generous gut. He buckled only slightly. His arms were viselike around my torso, and they felt like tree trunks. More hands began to pull at me, seeking hungrily to drag me into their mass. Desperate to avoid falling into their clutches even more than I already had, I wrenched my arm up as far as it would go. The sword hopped clumsily into the air. I snatched it on the descent and stuck it straight in the big guy’s back until its warmth radiated through him into my ribs. His dead eyes widened, and he dropped me as the sword burst clean through him.

  I grabbed it, swung it in the ever-reliable circle to clear some personal space, and plowed through the mindless throng in search of its master. I thought I could see him ahead, a gangly specter gliding on the wind, but there were too many bodies in the way. The gunshots behind me were steady but too slow and too few to abate the wave still flowing out of the mall.

  “Dammit!” A large part of me really, really wanted to hunt the god down and put an end to him. I could have, but the ordeal was turning into more effort than it was worth. It wouldn’t bring back those my companions had already killed if it brought the others back at all. I released a frustrated growl and turned to cut my way toward the trucks. The tide of zombies gradually appeared to recede a bit. They were probably following the master. “Retreat!” I yelled. “It’s not worth it!”

  “Where’d he go?” Deacon asked. He had also backed up to the trucks, and he and Jules covered Luis.

  “I lost him,” I said. “We have a whole camp to think about. There are too many of the others. We’ve got to get out while we can.”

  “All right.” Deacon lowered his gun. “Luis! Let’s bail! Andale!”

  “That’s racist, pig,” the youngster said with a grin. He bolted to the truck in a flash. I was peeling out of the lot by the time he slammed the door. The horde crushed around us, pounding on the windows, but the engine’s horsepower outstripped them quickly. All I saw in the rearview mirror was a mosaic of blank faces. Without a target, it didn’t take them long to slow to a stop.

  “How are you holding up?” I asked my passenger. “Things got pretty hairy there.”

  “Eh.” He cracked a boyish grin. “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with shit like that.”

  I tried to process his statement, and it finally
clicked. “Oh, because you grew up on the mean streets of Harlem?”

  He snorted a laugh. “No, dick. Because I played a shitload of video games. You know how many zombies I’ve killed in games before? Way more than this. It was like some level one shit. No problem.”

  Heat warmed my cheeks. “Oh, right. Sorry. It’s just that you said earlier—”

  “Yeah, dude, it was a fucking dog eat dog world in Harlem. I’m not gonna lie. And it’s the same out here now. And the same rules apply. Do what you can to survive or die.”

  “That sounds rough,” I said.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, well, you gotta roll with the punches. Like we’re all doing now. I’ve had a little more practice, that’s all.”

  “I had some practice with that too,” I said. “Before all this shit started.”

  Luis nodded. “It’s crazy, right? Who would have thought that all the hard times we went through actually made us stronger? I mean, I’m almost grateful for all that trouble now. It’s probably the only reason I’m still alive. Still sane.”

  “I never thought of it that way. Maybe you’re right.”

  I grinned and sat in silence for a while as we left the zombie town behind us. The kid’s perspective changed the way I thought about the hardships I’d faced over the last several years. If I could go back and change it, I absolutely would, but it had prepared me for this. I wasn’t afraid to face trouble down whenever it found me. That was some kind of blessing in disguise, I supposed.

  “You got family back with the group?” Luis asked.

  I shook my head. “My parents aren’t around anymore. It was tough for a while, but I’ve made my peace. What about you? You mentioned your grandmother before.”

  “Yeah.” He looked straight ahead at the featureless road. “She didn’t make it.”

  Immediately sorry for asking, I tried to make amends. “I’m sorry, Luis.”

  “I thought I was too, and I still am because I loved her. And I miss her. She was like a mom to me, you know? I would’ve given her the whole damn world if I could. But then I try to imagine her going through this with me, freezing and starving in the woods. I don’t think I could have taken it.” He rubbed his jaw. “She sacrificed herself for me. Said she’d only slow me down because she was too old to move fast enough.” He patted his chest. “The last thing she gave me was her rosary. That was right before I left. She put it in my hand and told me she’d lived a good life and not to waste mine.” He laughed a little. “‘Remember to love God, Luis, and love your neighbor almost as much.’ Only she could’ve talked about loving God when the whole fucking world was ending.”

  “I’ve never met a god I could love,” I said. “And I’ve met a lot of them.”

  “She could have,” the kid said, smiling gently. “She would’ve found a way. Unless they tried to tell her that hers didn’t exist. Then there’d be trouble.” He laughed again. “Man, I loved that lady. I hope she’s safe and happy, wherever she is.”

  “Of course, she is,” I said. “Because she can see you, and I know she’s damn proud of you.”

  Luis smiled and nodded. “I sure hope so.”

  Our caravan crawled through the woods after turning off the highway, following a roughly beaten track forged mostly by the might of the trucks. The camp materialized in a gap between the trees leading into the clearing, but before we even got there, a bulky shape plunged toward the trucks, waving short, stocky arms.

  “Is that Frank?” I narrowed my eyes. “Dammit. That’s Frank.”

  “He doesn’t look too happy to see us,” Luis observed. The mobster’s eyes bulged almost out of his head, and he was paler than usual. I lowered my window, and he barreled up to it, wheezing.

  “What’s with you?” My eyes flicked to the clearing path. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

  He gave me sort of a wounded look, wiped the sweat from his brow, and spit into the leaves. “You better come quick. They found another body.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A truck door slammed behind me. A moment later, Deacon appeared beside Frank. “What’s going on?” he asked, glancing between the vampire mobster and me.

  The man seemed to shrink a little in the agent’s presence. “There’s another body,” he repeated, hanging his head. “People are really starting to get wind of this stuff. I think it’s put ʼem all on edge.”

  “Can’t say I blame them,” I said. “Deacon, can you go check it out? I want to drop in on our resident militia and see how they’re doing. Something tells me we’ll want them ready sooner rather than later.”

  “Sure.” The agent turned to Frank. “Lead the way. I’m right behind you.”

  The two of them headed toward camp, and I stuck my head back into the truck cab to talk to Luis. “Can you start moving these supplies in? Jules will help.”

  He nodded. “Aye aye, captain.”

  “Thanks, man,” I said.

  Jules gave me a thumbs-up on her way past, and I took off at a brisk jog toward the modest encampment where Dan housed his men. Some rowdiness was to be expected in a soldiers’ camp, but my heart sank when I heard only vitriolic arguing from the other side of the tents.

  “You don’t get it,” Dan said, his patience undercut by a hefty dose of exasperation. “Send these guys in to fight in melee range, and you’re sending them in to die. This sets us up for needless casualties. I don’t see what’s so hard to understand about that.”

  Brax’s answering laugh was harsh and mirthless. “Are your men too weak to fight their foes face to face? You would rather have your men fall back like cowards, unprepared for the inevitable ambush? Don’t come crawling to me after the enemy rushes in and rips them limb from limb.”

  The soldier heaved a deep, long-suffering sigh. “Vic must have a real good reason to trust you because you’ve got some serious fucking problems, my friend. I believe we’re on the same side here, but you’ve got to trust me, too. Range is always the better option as long as you have guns. We don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell if they get to us, no matter what you think you can teach these people.”

  “As always, your kind underestimates me,” the demon replied. “And as always, you’re wrong. I hate to admit it, but the gods are too smart for your sneaky sniper bullshit. They’ll close the distance the second they spot you, and they will spot you. Then it’s a clusterfuck of friendly fire until everyone’s dead. The end.”

  Suppressing a groan, I turned on my heel and got out of there. Clearly, things weren’t going well on the militia front, and I wouldn’t do much good if I turned up without some way for them to make peace. Luckily, I thought I had something—or a few things—that might do the trick.

  “What’s up, Vic?” Jules was coming back for another load as I reached the second truck. “Need something?”

  “The troops are bickering,” I told her, hopping up onto the open tailgate to find what I needed. “I’ll get my head chewed off if I don’t bring in an olive branch.” The guns and ammo from the outdoor supply store went into a crate, which I then hefted down from the truck bed. Hooray, nectar strength. “I hope these new toys will settle those children down.”

  Jules pursed her lips. “Make sure they don’t play too rough with them.” She picked up another armful of groceries. “When you’re done over there, I think they want to see you at the murder scene. I heard someone asking for you.”

  “And here I thought the zombie attack would be the worst part of my day.” Lifting the crate to my shoulder, I set off toward Dan’s encampment again. “Let them know I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  When I reached the front of the wall of dirty canvas tents, the disagreement between the soldiers was no longer verbal, but it wasn’t over, either. Tension sizzled in the air as the two adversaries stood on opposite ends of the camp with their backs to each other. The demon had his arms folded across his chest. Dan’s head was practically in his hands.

  Obviously, things were going well.

  “Am
I interrupting a brooding contest?” I asked half-jokingly. “Let me know if now’s a bad time.”

  Brax grunted but didn’t even turn around. The soldier lifted his head and struggled to force his facial expression into something other than extreme irritation. “Good to see you, Vic,” he muttered. “We’re…working on it.”

  At that, his partner in conflict scoffed. “No, we’re not. We’d be working on it if this guy would get his head out of his asshole.”

  Dan bristled, his fingers curling halfway to fists. He closed his eyes, and I could almost hear him counting to ten. “My head is right where it’s supposed to be. Thinking strategically. And I’d love to meet you halfway. I really would. But you’re not listening to reason.” The man gave me a beseeching look. “Help me out here, Vic. Hand-to-hand combat would be insanity. Like throwing lambs to the slaughter.” He shook his head. “There are only about thirty volunteers, to begin with, tops. I can’t expect them to get in close and survive.”

  “Even a small contingent has the potential to be mighty if it is suitably trained,” Brax retorted. “But thirty inexperienced gunmen taking potshots into a raging horde is asking to have our asses whooped. The gods won’t even think about slowing down. Close quarters combat is inevitable.” He kept his back to us as he talked. To him, the conversation was already over.

  “I’m not picking sides,” I told them firmly. “You two are the best we’ve got in this department. I’m trusting you to make this decision for the good of the group. Everyone depends on us to come up with a stable defense solution, and I need you to figure your shit out soon. Stop fighting each other and worry about fighting the damn Forgotten. Understood?”

  Dan saluted resolutely. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do my best to find some common ground.”