Pyramid of the Dead: A Zombie Novel

by John McCuaig

  As Minco began to pull himself up, one of the men to his left suddenly screamed out in agonising pain. One of the undead beasts had followed his flight to safety. It clung onto his back, arms twisting around his neck as its teeth tore deep into his scalp. Chunks of flesh tore away in strips until the white of his skull could be seen. He loosened his grip, and with one last long scream of terror and pain, this heralded the man and the beast’s fall.

  Just as Minco started to pull himself up, another of the monsters flung itself at him. It did not reach his back but it managed to lock one, bony hand on his ankle. The weight pulled Minco back down to being fully stretched out. He glanced down at the foul beast and saw that it had been a recently turned soldier of his own; he even recognised its mutilated face. He watched as it pulled itself up closer. Disgusted, he kicked at the undead man with his free foot, but his tired attempts were not enough to break free of its hunger driven grip. Finally, the combined weight became too much for Minco’s fingers to hold. His grip slipped from the ledge and he fell towards the void.

  As he closed his eyes, ready to meet his fate, he felt a hand grab hold of his wrist, arresting his fall. He looked up and was shocked to see Pizarro’s grim face staring back at him. He grimaced with the strain of the weight of the two bodies and then Minco saw the thin rapier blade of his sword appear. He jabbed downwards and forced his weapon down and through the undead soldier’s brain. The beast’s mouth wrenched open, and then at last, it stopped moving altogether. The rest of its body fell slack and it released its iron grip on Minco’s ankle. Both Minco and Pizarro watched as it plummeted down into the dusty void below.

  With a few heavy grunts, Pizarro managed to pull Minco and then the last of his men up onto the bridge. They stood silently at the edge, looking across the gap at the angry swarm of the undead amassed not much more thirty feet away. Teeth snapped and fingers grasped at the empty air. In the ensuing madness, a few of the undead toppled off the edges of the bridge, pushed by the force of the ever-ravening crowd and they too fell away and out of sight. For every second that passed, more were joining the group already at the bridge and every single one of them had fresh, wet bloodstains on their mouths.

  Pizarro was the first to move away. He made his way back to the main group of survivors and glanced at Minco as he turned. Minco nodded his thanks, but no words were necessary. Both men knew that Pizarro had not saved Minco out of any ideas of friendship or love. Everything Pizarro had done, or ever would do, was for the gold he had been promised. He knew he needed to keep Minco alive if he was ever going to get his treasure.

  “Everyone, get inside the pyramid,” Minco shouted so that all of the survivors could hear him clearly. “Go straight to the main chamber. We need to get out of sight of the undead.” With a last look over at the army of Ukhu Pacha, he followed the rest of the living up the stone steps and into the mighty pyramid.

  Pizarro watched as the Protector guided his shocked sovereign in through the ornate doors of the large room along with the remaining few of his men. The Spaniard looked at his own numbers; he still had close to fifty of his soldiers left, more than the Incans. This sight, at least, made him feel a little bit better.

  11- A Plan is Hatched

  “We’re trapped in here like damned rats,” Almargo hissed through gritted teeth as they all took a welcome breather deep inside the pyramid. “There’s no bloody way out of here. So can you please tell me something, Colonel- what the hell are we going to do now?”

  Pizarro saw the look of disgust mingled with despair in his old friend’s eyes. It was a look with which he was growing unpleasantly familiar on this mission. Almargo had followed him for nearly all of his adult life, and had always done so without question. Now, Pizarro felt his heart fall as he realised that at this moment, Almargo would rather be anywhere else.

  “Go outside and check on our defences,” Pizarro said, barely making eye contact. In order to avoid another argument, he’d give Almargo something to do until he hopefully calmed down a little. “I need us to make certain the perimeter is secure and you are the only man I trust to get it done right. We’re going to need a bit more time and I don’t want any more surprises.”

  Almargo did not move a muscle on this order. He just kept on staring.

  “Please, my old friend,” Pizarro said, however, this time he had no choice but to look at him direct in the eye. “You must know that I need you with me now more than ever. I promise you, we’ll get through this, just like we always do. Trust me.”

  Muttering something under his breath, Almargo shook his head and stormed off.

  As he watched his faithful friend leave, Pizarro thought somewhat dolefully of all the good times they had shared through the years. Rather than dwell on the negative, he joined Minco and his men at a large opening. They were staring at the city below and he could see the anguish on their face. This was their home and all they could do was bear witness to its ruin.

  Only a few handfuls of people still fought to keep the hordes at bay, but it was only a futile attempt. No matter what they did to evade them, they were quickly overrun and torn to pieces. It seemed that for the moment, the horde had no more need for any new recruits. These fresh victims were picked clean down to the bone; and once the food was gone, the beasts began to scream, already starving for more. As the last of the citizens of Cuzco were devoured, all of the undead closed in. Numbering in the thousands, they soon surrounded the pyramid. From their height, Pizarro thought they resembled an army of swarming ants.

  “There’s no use in even thinking about fighting our way out of this. We’ll never be able to defeat them,” Inguill said as she joined the silent, watching soldiers. “All of our combined forces have been destroyed in under an hour; the few that we have left are no match for them.”

  “Why thank you for telling us this, my lady,” Pizarro snorted, his voice grew louder and louder along with his ire. “Many, many thanks; we’d never have worked that out for ourselves. I must say it’s a good job for us that you’re here.”

  Minco glared at the Spaniard and took a couple of steps towards him. He would not let him get away with this; no one would be allowed to disrespect his one true love without a penalty to pay. Pizarro saw his anger and casually held his hand up in a feeble attempt of an apology. It did not work; Minco still strode right towards him.

  “Don’t you dare mock me, Spaniard,” Inguill said as she too moved forward, standing directly between the two men, thus stopping Minco’s angry advance. She spoke to them both. “All I was saying is that we need to think about another way of defeating this threat. Axes and swords are not going to be enough. We need to use our minds and not our weapons, and I know how we can do just that!”

  Both Minco and Pizarro gazed at Inguill with puzzled intrigue. Their thoughts of killing each other had disappeared along with her words.

  “We know Taipi must have raised the army of Supay in the Forbidden City. If we can find our way back to Huacas, we can bring an end to all this.”

  “What are you talking about, woman?” Pizarro said incredulously. “Am I to understand that in order to end this, we have to get past that horde down there and reach an entirely different city?” He glanced out at the monsters below and shook his head. “There must be even more of those damn things back there. My apologies, but that sounds like a suicide mission to me.”

  Inguill ignored the Spaniard and spoke directly to Minco. “Taipi must have used the ancient scrolls and scriptures to open a doorway from the underworld to here. It is the power of Supay’s magic that keeps the dead moving and it is that power which we need to stop this.” She paused for a moment, perhaps visualising her plan of action before continuing. “If we can close the doorway, all of the dead should go back to being just that.”

  “If we are somehow able to get to Huacas,” Minco asked, “how do we close this doorway?”

  “If I remember the old scrolls well enough...” Inguill grabbed a stick and drew an image of the small effigy o
f Supay on the sandy floor. “This is the key to the plan: if we can somehow get inside the pyramid and destroy this statue, this is the source of Supay’s connection from the Ukhu Pacha to the Hanan Pacha, from the underworld up to the surface world.” She translated those words for Pizarro, “that should break the connection and the undead should cease to be a threat.”

  “I don’t like the sound of all these ‘shoulds’,” Pizarro interrupted unhappily, “How confident are you that this will kill them?”

  “Very confident,” said Inguill. “I will admit that more than a year has passed since I read the scripts for myself, but I can tell you this- I have not forgotten the story of Supay and his undead army.”

  “Well,” Minco said as he gently took hold of her hand, “our options being limited as they are, I think we have little choice.” He met Pizarro’s gaze steadily, gauging the man’s reaction. “We must go to Huacas.”

  “Maybe you’re right, Minco,” Pizarro said, though he addressed them both. He looked outside at the swarming undead, and saw a few of them milling by the large carts full of his gold. Of course, they had no interest in his treasure.

  He turned back to Minco and Inguill with a resigned determination. “I’m prepared to try my best as well, but would one of you please tell me, how in hell are we to get out of this city?”

  Almost in one, all three looked out at the carnage that was still being played out below. No one could answer the Spaniard.

  12- The Escape from Cuzco

  “Well, let’s at least try to get over to the horses,” Pizarro said, racking his brain for any ideas. “They are fast, even through your thick jungle roads. I’m sure we could get to this other city a hell of a lot quicker than on foot.”

  Minco’s face was grim. “Have a look out of that window,” he said, gesturing to his left. “I’m afraid it’s a little too late for your horses.”

  Pizarro peered out and down and was swearing as he saw the remains of the horses being dragged towards the bridge itself. They were no longer the dazzling, brilliant white that had given him such pride. All that was left of them now was a bright red. Their lifeless bodies were being pulled to the front as either a food source or even some sort of reward for the first line of undead soldiers. Pizarro watched as handfuls of pink flesh were ripped from those once beautiful animals and shoved into a procession of hungry mouths. It was like some sort of unholy line of communion.

  With a disgusted grunt, Pizarro stormed away from the window. “So much for that idea,” he thought.

  “However we decide to get out of here, it needs to be done soon. Surely, I don’t have to tell you there’s no time to waste.” Inguill had already moved to the middle of the room to check on the condition of the king and the other members of the royal court. Upon hearing Pizarro stir, she spoke up. “We must get to Huacas and finish this before the whole country has been turned, or there’ll be nothing and no one left to save.”

  Minco was still looking out of the window. “It’s clear to us all that we cannot get out through the city.” The streets below were filled to overflowing with the undead; they were searching every building in the futile hope that something living was still hiding away inside. He guessed their numbers must have grown close to ten thousand by now. “So that leaves us the cliffs; it is our only means of escape.”

  Pizarro looked up at the rocky cliffs that surrounded the city on three sides. They were all well over two hundred feet high and vertical. They looked to be impassable. He could not help but laugh at the very idea of climbing them. He, however, did not like the fact that his laugh sounded like hysteria. “We’d never make it all the way up there.”

  “There is a way; we don’t have to go all the way up. There’s a passageway that was cut into the rocks many years ago,” Minco said, glancing at Inguill. “Only a few people are aware of it. Our ancestors built it as an escape path for the king in the event of...well...catastrophe. Looks like this is it. We only have to get up to there, to that first level.” His finger pointed to a small rocky outcrop to the right side of the pyramid about thirty feet up. “Once we’re there, we can operate a secret doorway and then it’s a passage all the way to the jungle.”

  “...And who shall be going on this little trip?” Pizarro said, his voice still not conveying much confidence in their chances of success. He could already guess whom the Incan was going to name.

  “You and I will be going, Spaniard,” Minco replied. “We’ll take half the men with us and leave the rest here to protect the King, just in case the beasts somehow manage to find a way through. He needs to stay in here, for the trip will be far too dangerous for him.”

  “I’ll be coming with you too,” said Inguill, as she moved forward, once again directly between the two men. “You may need my knowledge of the scriptures; my memories, in case we need to change the plan.”

  Minco thought to protest but realised that he had no reasonable argument to make her stay. Also, they did need her knowledge. After a moment, Minco just nodded and smiled his acknowledgement.

  As the Protector and the High Priestess explained the plan to the king, the monarch said something in Incan and motioned his sheepish looking brother to step forward. Hesitantly, the prince came over to stand beside Pizarro and Inguill. It seemed the King had decided that one of the royals should join the quest.

  Pizarro, however, took his time in answering him. He thought long and hard about just staying right here at the pyramid and letting Minco take all of the risk. However, he soon realised that if this half-cocked plan to destroy the statue failed, he would be stuck inside this stone prison until he starved to death, and that was not what he had come all this way to do.

  “Very well,” he said, stealing another quick glance down at his still surrounded gold. “I’ll go along with you. Let’s get this done.”

  *****

  Twenty-five Spaniards and just eight Incans stood waiting by the side entrance of the pyramid. The remainder of the survivors stayed inside the central chamber, along with the King and the last two priestesses.

  “Once we’re inside the passage, we must destroy the doorway behind us,” Minco informed Pizarro and Almargo. “We can’t let the undead get back down here from the jungle. They’d be able to drop right down onto the pyramid and whoever is inside will perish. Whatever happens, you need to know this is going to be a one way trip.”

  This plan was sounding worse by the second to Pizarro. “Fine, let’s get moving.” He was not interested in hearing any more bad news.

  Minco nodded and led the silent procession out of the doorway, across the dusty old courtyard and over to the cliff wall. This view triggered a violent, excited din from the hordes of undead on the other side of the void. The sight, and no doubt smell, of so much fresh meat sent them into frenzy. The screams they produced seemed higher pitched than they had ever heard before.

  One by one, the men grabbed hold of the rock and climbed. Hand and foot holds were few and far between and the progress up the cliff was slow and dangerous. However, they only had about thirty feet to scale and even with these difficulties presented, Minco was soon standing up on the small ledge. He found six small holes hidden in the rock face. They were just big enough for three fingers on each hand to fit inside. As Pizarro and the rest of the soldiers began to join him on the ledge, Minco pushed his fingers in hard and twisted both of his hands clockwise.

  Rumbling noises started echoing around them, quickly followed by a loud grinding and crunching as a small section of the cliff began to slip down into the ledge, until a dark, looming gap that was just wide enough for a single man to enter appeared before them. After lighting their torches, the new saviours of Cuzco entered the pitch black and foreboding passage, one by one and slowly made their way down the gently sloping path.

  Minco was the last to enter the dark crevice. As he prepared to put his fingers back in those holes, he heard that high-pitched screaming again. Instinctively, he put his hands over his ears, trying to block out the d
evilish sound; this new call was hurting his head.

  Heading down toward the city, Minco saw Taipi again. The High Priest had been the one making this noise. Minco watched closely as the leader of the undead stood atop of a house roof and with those sounds, somehow ordered a large section of his army out of the streets and into the jungle. Minco knew only too well, where he had sent them; it seemed that they would soon have some company on their tail. Even now, in death, Taipi must have remembered the escape route and was now attempting to send his troops to block it.

  They had to hurry. Minco placed his fingers back in the holes again and turned them back in the opposite direction. As the rumbling began once more, Minco darted in through the opening just before the huge slab came crashing back down to block off the entrance. He ran into the eerie darkness until he caught up with the others.

  Taipi stopped his screaming when he saw the doorway disappear in a cloud of dust. His head tilted backwards as though he were being called from beyond. After another blood-curdling scream, Taipi made his way back down the stairway and headed for the city gates himself. As he passed his bowing troops, he made a few guttural grunting sounds. Soon, over a hundred of Ukhu Pacha soldiers followed him down the street. Upon leaving the city, they didn’t head into the jungle after the others. Instead, they kept to the road.

  Huacas was their destination.

  *****

  “We need to move,” Minco shouted as he pushed by the others to the get to the front of the line. “They’re coming!”

  After five minutes of running in the dark and expecting the worst, they came to a dead end. Once more, solid rock stood in their way. Minco threw a wooden lever to the side and a wall slowly ground open, parting to reveal the once again welcome brightness of sunlight. It flooded into the passageway, blinding the soldiers for a second or two. They blinked rapidly to allow their eyes to readjust.