Pyramid of the Dead: A Zombie Novel

by John McCuaig

  As he continued to work his way around the impressive looking building he came across the double doors that led to the kitchen. Only one of the Spanish guards was there and he had his eyes and hands occupied in the pursuit of a quite beautiful kitchen maid. The girl was busily pushing his roaming hands away as he attempted to grab a quick feel of her young flesh.

  Because his thoughts were elsewhere he did not see, or hear Minco sneak up behind him with his blade at the ready. The girl however saw him approach and her eyes darted over to meet his. The Spaniard spun around to see who she had spotted but all he was met with was the flashing blade. It was forced up through his jaw and deep into his brain. He did not have time to call out for help or grab his own weapon to defend himself; all that he could do was die.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered to the now startled and shaking girl. “I’m not here to hurt you; I’m here for Francisco Pizarro. Now please, keep quiet.” She nervously just nodded back at him, it was clear that she had no loyalty to the old man from foreign lands.

  “Who else is in the kitchens?” he continued as he started to pick up the limp body of the guard.

  “Two other girls,” she replied, her eyes now stuck on the blood soaked Spaniard. “We’re preparing some breakfast for the master.”

  “Good,” he said. “Now open the door, get inside and please make sure they stay quiet.” With ease, he placed the limp body over his shoulder but she still just stood there watching. “Come on girl, hurry up,” he barked at her as loudly as he dared which made her attention snap back, before she turned and did just as she was told.

  Once he was inside the brightly lit kitchen Minco saw the two other girls were huddled together by the ovens, having just been told what had happened by the first one. They both watched with open mouths as he dropped the dead guard roughly onto the cold, stone floor.

  “Where is Pizarro now?” he asked the girls, as he checked out the surroundings. “I also need to know how many guards there are still inside the house.” None of them answered. “Tell me now, quickly,” he ordered them, as he got right up to their faces.

  The girl he met outside was the first one to speak. “He is in the room at the very top of the building, go through that door and it’s all the way up the stairs.” She pointed over to a small plain doorway at the far side of the kitchen. “There should only be two of his fellow Spaniards inside the house, he keeps them close, and both of them will probably be at the entrance to his room.”

  Minco nodded to the girl. “Thank you,” was all he said as he made his way to the door.

  “Good luck Protector,” she called over to him. He spun around at the surprise that she knew of him, she saw the look in his eye too. “I used to visit Cuzco before the undead came. I saw you there many a time my lord.” She bowed her head slightly in a distinct show of respect. “I will pray to the Gods to give you the good fortune to kill that monster upstairs.”

  Minco broke into a little smile. “Thank you again, young lady,” he sheepishly said. “Now get ready to leave this place. It doesn’t matter if I fail or succeed, you all need to get out of here and go back to your homes.”

  In turn, all of the girls nodded back.

  As he pushed the small wooden door slowly open, Minco peered inside to the views of the lavishly decorated hallway and saw that all was clear ahead. The girl was right; there was no sign of anyone else around inside. Right at the end was the wide golden staircase that they had said would lead him all the way to Pizarro, all the way to his vengeance.

  Taking great care to be as quiet as he could, he rose up the steps one at a time and onto the second floor. Glancing a little look around the corner he saw about twenty feet ahead were the double doors leading to the Spaniards private chambers. Standing outside however were the two guards, and this time both were fully concentrated on their task in hand. He would not be able to sneak up on them like he had done to the others before.

  He, of course, knew that time was not on his side; it would not be long before one of the missing guards was discovered. With no other options left, he grabbed his axe in one hand, his blade in the other and walked around the corner to come face to face with the two soldiers.

  In a flash, his axe went flying through the air, spinning around until it reached its target of one of the soldier’s chest. Running on he swung his other arm and the blade found the neck of the second man’s throat. Minco looked down as both of his victims lay struggling on the ground, each of them trying in vain to catch a breath as thick blood gurgled up and poured out from their mouths. He did not remove his stare until both of them had finally stopped moving.

  His hand moved over to his own stomach and he pulled out the thin dagger that the second soldier had managed to stick in him before he fell. Both the pain and blood loss were severe, but with the heavy dose of wrath and vengeance still flowing through him he was able to forget them and move forward once more, towards the double doors.

  He opened them slowly to find himself in a large and lavish bedroom and what he saw at the far corner was a balcony to the outside. Sitting on a large seat with his back to him was his target, the great Francisco Pizarro.

  As he made his way over to him, the Spaniard spoke up without even turning to see who it was. This caused the Incan to stop his advance.

  “My dear, Minco,” he said. “I knew it would only be a matter of time before you came looking for me. You were not as quiet as you think, I heard you killing my men outside the door.” Starting to show his advancing years through the lack of hard work he slowly got himself up from his golden chair and turned to face his long-time nemesis.

  “You will pay dearly for what you have done,” Minco said as he showed the Spaniard his bloody blade. “You will die here today but if tell me where Inguill is buried, then I promise you that your death will be quick and painless.”

  Pizarro saw the blood seeping through the Incans tunic and with no fear in his face pointed down at the growing red patch.

  “I see that you didn’t get it all your own way,” he said. “I guess that one of my men managed to get a little piece of you too.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” Minco snarled back. “Just worry about how you’re going to die.”

  “You should have stayed hiding in the mountains or wherever you’ve been.” The Spaniard looked Minco direct in his eyes. “At least that way you could have lived for a few more years and your woman would not have died before your eyes.” He then pointed over to the far corner.

  Another of his men was holding Inguill tight around the waist, as he held a long dagger tight against her throat. As he tried to take in the shock that somehow his love was still alive, Minco could hear Pizarro laughing.

  “I knew that she would come in useful to me one day,” the Spaniard said as he walked over and stood just a couple of feet away from Minco. “I spread the word throughout the city that I’d killed her, I knew that you would try and find out her fate. You are as always, very predictable my Incan friend, I also guessed that one day you would have to come back for me.”

  He pulled from his belt a pistol and aimed it right at the Incans head. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” he said with a huge smile now spread wide across his face. “It seems that your last sight on this earth will be to watch the death of the woman you love.” He nodded over to the guard who had Inguill.

  Minco took the only chance he could; he threw his axe at the man who was holding her. He only had a small target to hit but the glancing blow to his head was just enough to work, the soldier fell backwards and the blade dropped from his hand to the floor. At the exact same time, Pizarro fired his single shot and that too hit its intended target.

  The pain rushed through Minco’s whole body. The spinning ball of lead had flown deep into his arm and he could feel it burning away under his flesh and in his bone. He cried out in agony as he dropped down to his knees. As he looked up, he saw Pizarro was frantically trying to reload his weapon, trying to get the g
unpowder shoved down the thin barrel. After a quick glance over to check that Inguill was okay, he rose to his feet and lunged at the old Spaniard.

  His good hand swatted the pistol from Pizarro’s grasp and he shoulder charged him to the ground. Before the Spaniard had a chance to get up, Minco kicked him swiftly in the head, then stamped down hard on his chest, knocking out all the air from his lungs.

  Pizarro huffed and wheezed as he tried in vain to catch his breath, all he done was cough out some of his blood that was draining down his throat from his broken nose. Minco looked down at him in disgust for a few seconds before walking over to Inguill.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he lifted her sobbing head. “I honestly thought that you were dead, my love.” He inspected her throat for any damage caused by the blade. “You must realise that I’d never have left you with him if I’d known you were still alive.”

  She looked into his eyes and tried to force a little smile. “He kept on taunting me,” she muttered. “He said I would be the cause of your death.” Her eyes moved over to her captors squirming body. “Now it seems you will be the bringer of his death.” He took his turn to smile back, stood up and went back over to his target.

  Minco knelt down besides the still struggling for breath Spaniard. He took Pizarro’s own gold and jewel-encrusted knife from his belt and held it out in front of the old soldier’s eyes. He tilted it gently so the sun caught on the highly polished blade.

  “It’s time,” Minco said to Pizarro as he dragged him over and propped him up against the sidewall. “I promised you that one day that I would get you off my lands.” He thought back to all the evil and death that the Spaniard had caused. “But it won’t however be with you sailing away inside one of your ships packed with our gold, no, it will be with me taking your life.”

  He slowly, very slowly, drew the blade across the throat of Pizarro and watched with interest as the life slipped away from his eyes. “Remember the people of Puna,” he whispered in his ear. “Remember the thousands who died at the hands of the Ukhu Pacha.” Just as Pizarro was about to pass out Minco slapped him on the cheek to keep him alert to his pain. “And most off all you bastard, remember the true King.”

  Minco keep his eyes fixed on the once great Pizarro until he was finally dead and still. In pain from the wounds to his stomach and arm, he struggled back up to his feet and turned once again to face his love, Inguill.

  “Come on,” Minco called over to her. “We need to get out of here now, before the rest of his men turn up. I doubt if I could hold any of them off now.”

  “Not yet,” she called back as she ran over to the other side of the room. “I just need to get something first.” She threw open a large wooden chest by his bed and started to pull some items out. She grabbed hold of a couple of old tattered parchments and a brown llama skin bag that was about the size of her head.

  “Hurry up, please Inguill, we need to get moving,” Minco had lost his patience as he peered out of the doorway, half expecting to see more of the Spaniards troops come rushing towards them at any time.

  “I’m coming,” she said as she joined him at the opening. “I’m ready now, let’s go.”

  There was no time to take things slowly, they had to move quickly, and they needed to get the hell out of the compound. Minco and Inguill raced down the stone staircase two or three steps at a time and before long, they were back at the wooden doorway to the kitchens.

  Gently pushing the door open Minco saw that the kitchen girls were gone, just as he had told them to do. He carefully opened the door to the outside to ensure it was clear before they quickly made their way across the plush green grounds.

  After ten minutes of racing through the jungle, the wounds on Minco started to take their toll. He was losing far too much blood to keep up that pace.

  “We need to stop for a minute,” he said as he rested up against a tree. “Just for a minute, please.” He tore a couple of strips from his tunic and began to make a couple of makeshift bandages. The blood flow would not stop but it also soon became clear to him that Inguill had no care for him or his wounds. She seemed to be far more interested in something else.

  “What was that you picked up back at the house, my love?” Minco said, as he worryingly looked down at the items she kept tightly held in her arms.

  “Pizarro didn’t tell you the whole truth, Minco,” she smiled at him when she replied. “He didn’t keep me just so that he could trap you; he also needed my knowledge of the ancient scripts. He wanted me to do something for him.” Her hand went into the bag and Minco almost fainted as she pulled out a few pieces of the little golden statue, the broken statue of Supay.

  “What the hell!” Minco pulled himself away at the sight that was now before him. “What in the Gods name are you doing with that thing?”

  “He wanted to know if the undead army could somehow be controlled,” she carried on talking as she gently stroked the golden statue. “He was in awe of their power so he stole the effigy away from Huacas when our backs were turned; he also took all of Taipi’s prayers.” She pointed down to the old parchments she had laid down beside her. “He asked me to study them again and try and work out what the High Priest had done wrong.”

  “Have you gone mad?” he screamed. “Have you not learnt anything from what happened to us before? You can’t control them, you more than anyone should know that nobody bloody can!”

  “No, you don’t understand me,” she still wore a huge smile. “He is not what you think, he is not evil. Since studying these items, I now know Supay just wants to help me, he wants to help us all. If I can open the doorway again then he will do whatever I ask, he has promised me that.” Her voice echoed with a wondrous joy. “Please just think about it, Minco, we can rid our lands of all of the Spaniards forever and rule the empire as it should be. And I know that Supay will help us do just that.”

  Minco watched with utter disbelief as she just sat there and smiled at the smashed up effigy. She had been touched by the power of Supay back at the pyramid in Huacas before the evil bond was broken. It seemed that somehow, even now, he could still speak to her.

  “Please will you help me, Minco,” she said without moving her eyes anyway towards him. “Just trust me my darling. Help me to open up the doorway once again, it’ll be worth it, I promise.”

  Minco knew that he could never let that evil escape from the depths of hell again. He also felt the blood pouring out from the wound in his belly; no matter what he tried, he could not stop its flow and knew that his time was limited.

  As the tears formed deep in his eyes, his hand slowly went down to his side and he unclipped the heavy truncheon from his belt. She did not see him approach; her mind was still lost in the magic of Supay.

  This had to end now; he had to destroy everything that could open up the doorway, whatever the cost. And it was not just the statue this time.

  Before he acted, he managed to smile at her for the last time.

  23- The Future

  The present day, the museum of Cuzco

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the middle-aged female curator was impatiently calling everyone over, to get right around the glass case she held so dear. “Here is our newest exhibit, the pride of our collection. It is truly one of the wonders from the past age of the Incans.”

  They all peered at the broken objects inside, trying to work out just what it was.

  “This was recently uncovered near an old estate house, it was buried deep underground until an excavation found this and various other items,” her voice was alive with excitement. “We have of course previously found many writings, drawings and paintings about this God, but until now we have never found a single statue, not even one that was as badly damaged as this.”

  As they all looked again at the remains, she then pointed over to a huge painting that was on the adjacent wall. “This shows what the statue would look like if it was complete.” All the visitors looked up and saw him in all his golden splendour. They all
looked at the image of Supay, the God of the Underworld.

  “Why are there no other statues?” one in the group asked. “Every other God had hundreds of them made, they can be found all over South America.”

  “No one really knows,” she replied, happy that someone else was taking an interest in her work. “Maybe he fell out of favour somehow and all of his effigies were destroyed. However, I doubt that we will ever find out the true answer.”

  She smiled at the busy group and led them away from the case. “And over here we have several other things that we found at the site. These include some weapons and the bodies of two people, one male and one female.”

  *****

  They waited until well into the night, until well after the three old and fat rent-a-cops had done their feeble excuse of a walk through. With great care, the two thieves silently made their way through the floors of the museum until they reached the new display, the one that held Supays statue.

  “Hurry up!” the first man said to the other who was using his glasscutter to get through the case. “We’ve got to get out of here soon,” his eyes peered out into the darkness. “You must know what the authorities will do to us if they catch us stealing artefacts.”

  “Be quiet you fool,” he snarled back. “The money that they’re paying us is more than worth the risk.” He then gently removed the cut away glass and was able to get his hands inside the case. With great care, he took out the four broken pieces and placed them inside his cloth bag.

  “Okay, it’s done,” he said with his smile visible even in the dark. “You can stop your damn worrying now, come on let’s get the hell out of here.”