Pyramid of the Dead: A Zombie Novel

by John McCuaig

  Wordlessly, Pizarro tore a section of his own tunic and wrapped Almargo’s wound with a gentle care. “Don’t you worry, my friend,” he managed to speak, though his voice was shaking with shock, “Once we smash that damn statue, you’ll be just fine.” Once again, he found that he could not look his man in the eye.

  Almargo’s free hand rose and covered both of Pizarro’s, effectively stopping his motion and forcing him to meet his gaze. “We both know it’s already far too late for me, Colonel. We’ve seen too many times how fast people turn after they’ve been bitten. I know my time is short.”

  “No way,” Pizarro said and even to himself, he sounded like a plaintive child. “I will not let this happen! I just need you to hold on for a little while longer...that’s an order, soldier!”

  With a resolute shake of his head, Almargo pulled himself free from Pizarro’s desperate grip. “I can already feel the damn poison working its way through my body.” He levelled a knowing gaze at his friend. “And my Colonel, I have one last favour to ask of you. Do not let me turn into one of those things.”

  Pizarro’s head reeled away in horror at his friend’s request, but he also knew he had to grant him this final request, grant him his dignity. For the first time in his life, Pizarro felt speechless and Almargo could not help but laugh.

  “It seems I’ll never get the chance to be rich after all,” the old soldier tried to keep his eyes on Pizarro. That second his laugh turned into a choked and gurgling cry as he clutched hold of his stomach.

  Dark veins had begun to traverse up his forearm and, as another jolt hit him hard, the old soldier half coughed and half wretched. When he spat on the ground, it was clearly laced with his own bright red blood.

  “Please sir,” he whispered. “Do it now...before it’s too late.” He dropped his gaze and stared at the ground, and then a moment later dropped down to his knees.

  Tears rimmed Pizarro’s eyes, but with a flick of his arm, he produced the thin blade by his wrist. He bent over and gently kissed the crown of Almargo’s head, then placed his hand atop of where he had just kissed, pausing momentarily as if in benediction. He drew a shaky breath. His thick fingers curled inwards and grasped a handful of his friend’s scalp. With a quick jab and an unbidden cry of anguish, Pizarro sent the sharp steel through the temple of the only true friend he had ever known.

  Almargo’s body twitched hard once, violently as the connection between his mind and body was instantly severed, then he became limp and loose. Pizarro laid him gently and with great care down on the ground, crossing Almargo’s arms over his chest in sign of reverence. The old man was not really a man of the Church, but Pizarro still took the time to say a few words, somehow to help him find his way to a better place.

  As he stood and turned, he saw that Minco had silently returned and had been watching the whole proceeding. The Spaniard cursed under his breath, feeling himself flush for this show of weakness.

  “I am sorry,” Minco said to the Spaniard and Pizarro could see that the Incan felt some genuine compassion.

  Pizarro was lost in his own hell of regret. “The old fool should have been more careful. If he had been, then he would still be alive.”

  Minco watched as Pizarro sped away, not once looking back to the body of his man. Without another word, he joined the rest of the survivors. The Incan took a last, measuring across the ravine at the army amassed on the other side. He watched as they moved off and knew they would be searching for another way across.

  If the god’s were with them, in less than an hour, they would reach the gates of Huacas and the last part of the mission would be there, waiting for them.

  17- The City of the Snake

  On the far side of the ravine, they found it was the quietest it had been for days. And for that, they at least took a little bit of comfort, for they did not run into anymore of those hungry beasts on the road to Huacas. Far sooner than they expected they reached the outskirts of the city, but the sight before them was far worse than they had hoped or even feared. They had believed that all of the undead- or at least most of them- would have gone away, been out on the hunt for food to Cuzco or on the chase behind them.

  Alas, they were more than wrong. Standing at the remains of the ancient gates, as though they had been waiting for them to arrive, stood a dozen or more of the monsters. Both Minco and Pizarro suspected that they were not alone, that many more of them were lying in wait, hidden somewhere inside the decrepit walls.

  Minco took a moment or two to look around at his companions. They were still hidden in the jungle foliage, well beyond the tree line that lay across from the gates. Nineteen souls were all that was left of the group that had set off from Cuzco, and this was including Inguill and the King’s brother. He had no doubt they were all good men and women, but it wasn’t much of a fighting force.

  “We’ll need to come up with something soon,” a dejected sounding Pizarro said as he flopped down against a tree, right next to Minco and Inguill. He wiped his sweat-ridden brow with the tattered sleeve of his tunic, looking even more crestfallen when he was reminded of why his sleeve felt so different. “I’m pretty sure the horde we lost back at the ravine will soon find another way to get across.” His eyes were fixed on the path on which they had arrived. “If they get to us before this is finished, then we might as well all give up now.”

  “The statue will be held inside the Pyramid,” Inguill said, pointing at the huge black building. “As you can see, it stands right in the centre of the city.” She met the gazes of Minco and Pizarro, making sure she had their full attention before she went on. “We cannot exactly walk into the city and ask for directions. We need to make a distraction.”

  They needed to do something, and they all agreed they had to do it quickly. Minco knew he was the quickest of the survivors and it would be easy to catch the attention and focus of the undead soldiers. He did not trust the Spaniard to do the job correctly, especially now when it seemed that the man had all but given up since he killed his friend.

  “I will take half of the men and circle around to the other side of the city.” He peered through the foliage towards the sentries. “If we can get on top of the back wall and make enough noise,” the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a mischievous grin that Inguill had known since they were young, “then hopefully that’ll drag the guards away from these gates.”

  He looked at his Inguill, and the silent moment they shared made Pizarro feel he was intruding. Minco continued with his plan, breaking the spell. “Once they’ve gone after us, the way should be clear enough for the rest of you to get inside, and get to the pyramid.”

  Inguill’s lovely face reflected the fear that she felt. She didn’t like the simplistic plan he had concocted, but she also knew there was no other way.

  Minco held her gaze as he continued. “You can signal us when you get near the pyramid and we will attempt to break through to join you.” He took her hands in his. “Please my love, don’t try wait for us if it gets too dangerous. We can look after ourselves for a little while until you can end all this.”

  Pizarro stood up, his shoulders squared rigidly. “Very well, Minco, that sounds like a plan to me.” He looked at the gates then peered back down the path. “But I suggest you get yourself moving, Protector. I’m sure you agree we have no time to waste.”

  Without any more delay, Minco kissed Inguill’s cheek, made his goodbyes and rounded up half of the remaining men as planned. He gave them his orders and when he was sure they understood, they quickly disappeared into the jungle to make their way around the walls.

  Inguill looked over at the well-guarded gates, then back to the solemn Pizarro. “He will do as he says, Spaniard. He will draw the undead away from the undead and give us a chance to get inside the pyramid.”

  Pizarro did not even raise his eyes away from looking at his knife that was now completely removed from its usual hiding place in his sleeve. “He’d better succeed,” Pizarro grunted back at her. He couldn’
t pry his eyes from the weapon he had used to kill Almargo. “If his plan doesn’t work, then all that we’ve lost will have been for nothing.”

  *****

  As he expected, the thick jungle encroaching the city walls were clear of the undead, they would all be inside the city protecting its contents. Thankfully, it seemed the undead had not seen fit to bother with patrolling the outside; this was at least some good news. Even so, it still took Minco and his men nearly a half an hour to traverse around the perimeter. He couldn’t help but wonder how close the main army of Supay was getting to the city. They had no way of knowing how much time they had left. It would not be long enough, thought Minco, and kept on moving.

  When they reached a section of wall that was being slowly reclaimed by the jungle foliage, Minco stopped his men. “This will do us just fine,” he said, tugging hard on the vines and low tree limbs to check their strength. “We can cross over here.”

  One by one, he and his mixed band of Spaniards and Incans climbed up and through the branches and vines until they were level with the top of the wall. They scanned the empty city streets below, searching for any sign of movement. When he was happy that it was clear, they quickly and silently made their way out and onto the high stone barrier.

  “Let’s get a move on,” he whispered, moving soundlessly for a set of steep, polished steps just ahead. “We need to get down to the streets. I want them all to be aware of our presence but we also need to be able to keep moving.” He looked past the men towards the mighty pyramid. “We will not pick a fight with them unless we have to; we just need to get their attention.”

  Once their feet touched down on the deserted street, Minco and his men wasted no time. They moved stealthily from corner to corner until they came across a row of long since deserted market stalls. As Minco made his way towards them, he almost smiled when an idea came to him. This was perfect for what he had in mind.

  He indicated to the stalls with a jerk of his chin. “Move them all together across the width of the street. Quietly,” he added but this afterthought had been unnecessary. They were already moving with more stealth than a cat stalking a mouse. “I need the roadway completely blocked before we can begin.”

  Wordlessly, they obeyed, rasping breath and scrapping wood over stone they still kept it as quiet as possible. They dragged the heavy carts into place. As they did, Minco pulled the contents off one of the stalls and evenly laid it out at the base of the rapidly growing line. Bundles of old, and very dried out maize began to the carts that formed a formidable barrier, completely blocking the roadway. Satisfied with what had been done, Minco put the last, most important part of the plan into action.

  He knelt by the stalls and rummaged in his pack. After removing two small pieces of flint from his bag, he struck them together over and over again until the tiny shower of sparks had the desired effect. The bone-dry plants ignited and orange flames quickly spread along the whole line, feeding the dry wood of the stalls above them. Soon, the entire line was wildly ablaze and thick, dark smoke billowed up, ascending high above the empty houses.

  “There, that ought to do it,” Minco said with a wry smile. “Come, there’s more work to be done.” However, Minco knew deep down that it would take more than just a single little fire to draw the attention of all the beasts. And he also knew that was something he must do.

  *****

  Inguill and Pizarro waited silently in their hiding place, watching as a thick, black tower of smoke billowed into the air at the far side of the city. The guard’s attention was also drawn away from their post. Soon, a chorus of groans and grunts sounded from somewhere deep inside the city. Following what the humans could only guess was some kind of orders, half of the undead soldiers left their position at the gates to go and answer the call.

  Inguill hissed, “No! We need all of them to go.” She looked anguished. “If any are left to guard the gate, they will only call the others right back. We would find ourselves right back where we started.”

  Pizarro could only shake his head in frustration. “Well, I hope that your man has some sort of fall-back plan. I think it would be unwise for us to sit and wait here all day.”

  Inguill finally lost her patience with the old soldier. He’d been insolent, impatient and offered nothing more than hindrances and snide remarks since she met him. “Have some respect, Spaniard, we deserve it,” she spat. “If we had not included you in our plan, you’d be undead by now or merely torn to pieces.”

  Pizarro’s face twisted into a mask of anger bordering on hatred. He brought his face to barely an inch from hers. “And I’ll tell you that you don’t deserve my respect. You’re all a bunch of savages who take their orders from a woman,” he said, voice filled with distain as he growled his last words. “You should not even be here.”

  She huffed a mocking little breath back at him, shaking her head as if in pity. “I actually feel a little bit sorry for you, Spaniard. You are nothing but a lonely and bitter old man. If you cared for anything other than yourself and our gold, you might be a little happier.”

  “Just leave me the hell alone, woman,” he shouted back. “You just worry about Minco and him getting us into the city. This is your last warning, priestess, just leave me alone or else.” Pizarro swallowed hard. He wanted to strike her but knew what the remaining Incans would do to him. His face was flushed with the effort to control his temper, but in the end, he only sat back down and began to inspect his small blade once more.

  *****

  Minco did have something else planned for both he and his men. He knew the dangers very well, and he knew that not all of his men would make it out of this alive. But they had no other choice. He gathered his remaining men together he gave them the bad news.

  It was time to face the undead.

  The soldiers of Supay were already swarming through the streets and Minco could only hope that their numbers had been thinned out by the search. Even if they could only defeat a few of them that would hopefully bring the rest of the undead in the city to the battle. That would of course mean the end of him but it would give Inguill and the others a chance to get to the pyramid.

  “This is it,” he said to the men huddled at a corner. He continually scanned in all directions for any signs of movement. “We need to take the fight to them.” Minco drew his axe and truncheon. “We’ll find a small group of the beasts, destroy them quickly, and move on to the next. If we can do this, the numbers will be manageable while drawing their attention away from the others. We must give them the time to get inside and destroy the statue.” Minco strode off down the street, followed by the last of his soldiers, both Incan and Spanish now following his words.

  It wasn’t too long before they found the first of their targets. Two undead soldiers were walking right towards them; they groaned like living, hungry stomachs and attacked at speed.

  Minco ordered the Spaniards to fire the muskets they carried. He wanted the rest of the horde to hear their power was here. The two monsters quickly fell under the volley of hot lead, their rotting heads blown apart as practically every shot found its mark. Minco rallied his men with a fierce, bloodthirsty snarl. It felt good to be on the attack for once. All this running, no matter how it ended, was finally over. “This way, men,” Minco shouted. He was already darting away down the street to his left. “Keep moving!”

  *****

  Inguill heard the shots and nearly jumped out her skin. All kinds of thoughts and notions raced through her mind, she tried to believe that he was fine but could not help but to fear the worst. She looked around at her also worried companions, she needed to find some comfort but of course knew that Pizarro would not be the one to help her. He was however the first to speak.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Pizarro said as he peered through the foliage at the gates. “It’s working. The last of the guards are leaving too.” He grinned fiercely at Inguill and she could not help but share his newfound excitement. “He’s only gone and done it,” Pizarro conti
nued. He took Inguill’s elbow and began leading her forward. “We need to move, we need to take this chance.”

  Inguill put her hand on his shoulder. “Wait just a moment longer. Let’s give them plenty of time to get well away.”

  She thought he would protest but to Inguill’s surprise, Pizarro gave her a brisk nod. “Very well,” he said. “But just for a minute.”

  *****

  Back inside the smoky city, Minco and his men no longer needed to search for any more of the undead soldiers, they found them first. Running battles had begun in the narrow streets of Huacas and the time between each of these deadly encounters was growing shorter as more of the undead soldiers closed in on their position. Before long, most of the muskets were no longer of any use. The beasts were getting far too close and while some of the men used the long barrels as handles and the butts for bludgeoning instrument, most discarded them for the close combat swords and axes.

  They struggled and fought with everything against the jaws, teeth and hands of their attackers and with every new onslaught, another one of Minco’s men fell. Each of them taken was dragged away alive and then slowly devoured nearby, and it was a death that seemed to take an age. It appeared that the beasts wanted their slow, agonised screams to be heard.

  As the streets filled with more and more of the undead, Minco realised they could not last much longer. He and just six others were all that was left of their raiding party. He could only hope and pray that Inguill had made it to the pyramid.

  Then he heard it; a bell was ringing in the distance. Every single city in Tawantinsuyu- all four parts of the Incan Empire- had an alarm bell to be sounded when either danger approached or to call its citizens to the square. Minco knew that Inguill was ringing the bell. She was sending him the signal to come to her, the route to the pyramid was clear.