The Unkillables

by Boyett, J.

  “No!” That was Quarry. From the way her cry was cut off, Gash-Eye knew someone had clapped a hand over her mouth. She surprised herself by almost shouting at them to leave the girl alone, but held back. Best not to let them know that was a knife they could twist in her flank.

  Gash-Eye felt herself being lifted. She kept her eyes closed, although the brand was so close that the flames shone almost as brightly through her lids.

  She was carried through the cave. Even without seeing anything, she could tell when they were out of the big chamber and back in the tunnel; the air pressure changed, the clamorous shouting echoed differently. Those carrying her grunted with the extra effort of following the slope upward.

  She had little doubt that once they got outside, the unkillables would have moved on. They had seemed such insatiable creatures, and there was bound to be more prey in the forest. For Quarry’s sake, she was even glad this interlude in the cave was coming to an end. Well, it was all right that they were going to kill her. She’d been meant to die days ago. All that remained in these last minutes was to decide whether it was likely to go easier with Quarry if she went down fighting, or quietly. Quietly, probably.

  The fire was moved away from her face. “Open your eyes, slave,” Spear growled, close to her ears. “We’re almost at the mouth of the cave. I want you to point out this death you’ve been scaring us with, before going to meet your own.”

  Gash-Eye obeyed. But it was still by sound alone that she knew they were nearing the mouth of the cave. Though her eyes were open, she could still make out little more than blotchy red and blue afterimages of the flames that had been so close. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. It suddenly seemed to her that, since she was about to see for the very last time, it would be nice to see clearly.

  There was a crackling boom.

  The People all came to a halt. Gash-Eye was jolted by the way the four men carrying her stopped at slightly different moments. A few moans went up from the women and children and some of the men.

  “Shut up!” said Spear. “It’s just thunder!”

  “Spear....” That was Stick. Even he was scared.

  “It’s just thunder, damn it! Are you afraid of thunder now?! Do you think the warring thunder spirits are more likely to take notice of earth creatures today than they were yesterday? Have you ever heard of earthly creatures whose fighting made a sound like thunder, unkillable or not? So how can that sound be made by earthly creatures? Now move!”

  They started forward again. From protests and shouts behind her Gash-Eye came to realize that the People were being marched forward mostly against their will, by Spear’s friends.

  Her vision was coming back, but she still couldn’t see what they were screaming about the next moment. Partly because her head was still facing the ceiling.

  “It’s just lightning!” shouted Spear. “It’s just lightning! The mouth is just around the bend!”

  “But it makes a sound different from any thunder I ever heard!”

  “It’s lightning, I tell you!”

  “If it’s lightning then why is it red?!”

  “That’s from our damned eyes drying out in the Big-Brow’s poisoned cave! I tell you, that’s lightning! Lightning! Lightning! Lightning!”

  Now they were turning her so that her body was upright—two men apiece held her by the arms now, and her feet dragged along the floor. She picked them up and began walking along to keep the tops from being scraped. She didn’t struggle. Sure enough, up ahead she could see the bend, the last corner before the mouth of the cave. It must be night. The People wouldn’t have been able to see the bend if not for the brands, and if not for the flashes of light from outside the mouth, which reflected off the rock wall. Spear was right, their eyes were no doubt still confused by the long sojourn in darkness, but she did think the so-called lightning looked red.

  They rounded the corner. The dark cave mouth opened into the nighttime before them. Stars glittered in the sky—no clouds. Spear leaned in close to Gash-Eye and growled, “You’re about to die.”

  Pitching her voice for his ears only, she said, “I don’t care.”

  As they drew right up to the mouth of the cave there seemed nothing outside but a peaceful, tranquil night. Gasps of cautious joy could be heard. They approached the crystalline stars and the small but peaceful patch of grass visible in the moonlight, and Gash-Eye knew they were about to kill her.

  Then a lightning bolt sizzled down with a crash the instant before they exited the cave. At least, Gash-Eye supposed it was lightning; it was impossibly straight, and definitely red. The boom it made was not quite like thunder.

  Those in the very front halted again. But Spear’s allies in the back must have been determined to push forward no matter what, and to keep from being trampled those in the front had to start moving again. As those who’d first left the cave started screaming, the ones in the back continued spilling out, shoving them.

  The small patch of outside they’d been able to see from within the cave had looked calm. But chaos raged everywhere around that patch. Unkillables streamed or shuffled up the hill, according to their strength; the black ones were illuminated by the glowing green ones. Gash-Eye’s captors released her, in their shock. She turned around to look back up the hill to see what the unkillables were heading toward. There was a huge mound of something organic-looking that shouldn’t be there, glistening in the starlight. The mound was momentarily lit by another red bolt, and Gash-Eye felt like she might vomit—though she couldn’t be certain, though it was impossible, she felt suddenly sure that what she was looking at was a massive heap of animal brains.

  What sort of monster would kill more animals than anyone could ever eat and then leave only the brains, heaped on a hillside?

  Someone screamed and she whipped her head around to see that a black unkillable had grabbed Stick by the arm with his teeth, and was using his hands to pull the old hunter and his brain closer. Before any of the People could raise a spear to help, one of the stronger, green unkillables leaped forward and ripped Stick’s head off, stealing the prize from its hungry brethren. The green unkillable raised Stick’s head to its mouth and chomped down hard, biting through Stick’s skull like it was the skin of a fruit. As it munched out chunks of the hunter’s brain and gulped them whole, Gash-Eye and the People could see it glow brighter and stronger. Then with a deafening crackle another red bolt destroyed the green unkillable, exploding its head, then a second bolt hit the head of the black unkillable still tearing in futile, frustrated rage at Stick’s headless body.

  Gash-Eye looked up, to see where the red bolts were coming from. There was something like a huge, impossibly regular stone floating overhead.

  The smell of smoke and burning rotten flesh. Underneath the screams the deafening crackles of the big red bolts. Gash-Eye looked back uphill at the mound of what might be brains. Some of the unkillables had reached it and were leaning their whole bodies into it, arms outstretched as if hugging it. They glowed an impossibly bright green; Gash-Eye could not see their mouths, but she imagined them munching, munching, munching their ways into the mound.

  She realized that some of the People had been bitten by the unkillables and were flopping on the ground, the black webs spreading across their bodies. Most of the unkillables who had bitten them had not bothered to break their skulls. They must have been drawn too irresistibly by that mountain of brains above.

  Something crashed into Gash-Eye and threw its arms around her waist. She was about to club it in terror when it screamed, in Quarry’s voice, “Gash-Eye!”

  Gash-Eye awoke from her trance. How could she possibly have cared about looking at the chaos and trying to figure out what was going on? Escaping from it was all that mattered. She picked the child up and clutched her to her chest. “People!” she cried. “If you can hear, back to the cave!”

  Some had already gone, not needing the invitation. But others were disoriented by the terror, noise, smoke, and flashing li
ghts; nearly blinded by their long days in the dark, and then by these searing red bolts of fire, they had lost their sense of where shelter was. Now, hearing Gash-Eye, they rallied to her.

  She backed into the cave. The People came after her. “Follow my voice if you cannot see!” A bit of inspiration struck her, and she added, “I shall be your eyes, as before!”

  “Follow Gash-Eye! Follow Gash-Eye!” some of them screamed. And one said, “Follow Petal-Drift!”

  She wondered if Spear were still with them. Maybe he and his friends had been taken by those things outside.

  She ran deeper back into the cave, careful to keep her balance on the downward incline. The floor shook, Gash-Eye suspected from the impact of another red bolt. There was a rumbling crash and some screams—the ceiling had collapsed behind them.

  From behind them came more screams. Something had followed them in. Her first instinct was to keep running, but the unkillable thing, and all its spawn, would be trapped in here with Quarry, as well.

  Gash-Eye set Quarry down; “Run,” she hissed, then turned without waiting to see if the child obeyed.

  She cast around for two fist-sized stones, then waded against the stream of fleeing People. The only light came from a few burning sticks that had been dropped. An unkillable was beginning to glow as it ate its victim’s brain. By its own glow she could see its eyes fix on her, but it either didn’t consider her a threat or else couldn’t tear itself away from its meal. Gash-Eye clapped the stones together into the creature’s temples, as hard as she could; the thing’s head popped. Never had Gash-Eye heard of such soft-headed beings. Again she sealed her lips, but some of the spraying gunk hit her high on the cheek, almost getting in her eye. With horror she wiped her face with her forearm. Opening her eyes again she saw that two of the People were flopping on the floor, the black veins spreading like webs across their bodies. She clapped the stones together against their temples, too. Their skulls didn’t yet pop open the way the full unkillables’ did, and she had to strike them repeatedly; though she did think she could already detect a bit more give than one would expect.

  She ran after Quarry, afraid the girl would need protection if Spear and his friends took their frustrations out on her.

  Back in the big chamber the embers of the fire still glowed a faint red—Spear’s men had failed to completely extinguish it. Some of the People screamed as her dark bulk came running in, but someone else cried, “It’s her! It’s Petal-Drift!” People surrounded her, hands clutched her. “Help us!” “Save us!”

  “Where’s Quarry?!”

  “Here she is!”

  “We kept her safe for you!”

  “I’m here!” That was Quarry’s voice, weeping. The crowd parted for her. She flew into Gash-Eye’s arms, clutching her.

  Gash-Eye rested, holding the child close. For the moment she was almost unconscious of the People surrounding her, the monsters outside.

  “What should we do, Petal-Drift?” someone ventured timorously.

  Only now did Gash-Eye begin to appreciate the advantages of her predictions having proven true. She almost wondered if she did have some gift of prescience, after all.

  If she did, it gave her no more idea than before of what to do about the monsters outside, except continue to cower in the caves. In fact, that seemed like a better idea than ever. But there was one threat she could use her newfound power to do away with.

  “Where’s Spear?” she demanded.

  “He ran!” That was Tooth. “We tried to hold him and his friends, but they ran!”

  So. They were lurking in the dark, lost, as blind as they had threatened to make Gash-Eye. A horrible fate, but she would waste no energy feeling sorry for them. Besides, they weren’t dead yet, not necessarily. “Didn’t I warn you Spear’s way was dangerous?” she said balefully.

  “You did, you did.” “You did, Petal-Drift.”

  She studied the survivors. Most of the older, braver men were gone—so were all of the children. What was left was mainly women and the weaker hunters. And Tooth, whose spirit she had wounded far worse than she had his body.

  “Who was it who fed more of you to the unkillables? Who turned more of you into unkillables, which in turn may claim still more victims? Wasn’t that Spear?”

  “Yes, yes.” “Yes, Petal-Drift.” “Yes, you were right, we’re sorry.”

  She raised one hand for silence. The other hand remained on Quarry. She said, “Never mind all that. Only say: is not my enemy your enemy?”

  “Yes, Petal-Drift,” many voices said.

  “I will stand watch against the unkillables,” she said. “I will look where you cannot see. I will hunt on your behalf what little food there is in these caves. We shall go together to the underground lake. The dark shall be dreary and the water stale, but we shall survive. I shall keep one eye in the shadows of this world, watching for enemies, and one eye in the world of shadows, watching for when we may safely leave these caves. But only on one condition. My enemies are your enemies, as your enemies are mine.”

  “Our enemies are each other’s!” someone cried, and others took up the cry.

  She was the leader of this People now. The world had turned upside-down and they had all become her slaves. But she reflected with bitterness that if ever they escaped back up to the world of the sun, she should expect no gratitude. The People would remember their groveling with humiliation, and take revenge for it.

  “Very well,” she said, “let us go to the lake. Some of you take a brand from the fire. Some others take the firewood. Let he who takes the brand lead the way. I’ll walk in the rear, to be sure nothing follows.” She added, “And if any of you comes across Spear, or any of his followers, cut me off their heads.”

  Multiple voices swore that they would.

  Nine

  Veela found Chert and the Jaw two days after the attack of the zombie deer, some hours before the People made their disastrous escape attempt. Who knew how long it would have taken her without the help of Dak and his scanners—the zombie zone they’d walled off was a circle with a diameter of more than twenty miles, and it wasn’t like she could possibly track whatever faint trail those guys might leave. (The zone had to be sufficiently vast to contain the outbreak—it was calculated on the distance that animals and humans could roam after having been bitten by that zombie mouse at the original landing site, taking into account the motor debilitation that accompanied zombification, especially in the blackened hungry state, and that would prevent, say, a zombie bird from being able to fly long distances, or a deer from being able to bound along at its normal speed.)

  Still, Dak griped over having even that much of his resources diverted. He was preparing the mound of animal brains for the trap he was going to spring that night, the one that Gash-Eye and the remnants of the People were going to wander into. He was in a bad mood because he had to use up most of their stock of Rejuvenatrix in soaking the brain-pile, to keep the brains alive enough for the zombies to hear their brainsong.

  When she came upon them, Chert and the Jaw were slumped dejectedly in front of the white perimeter wall. When Chert had first seen it, he had run at it to punch it, and had been beyond furious when he’d realized he couldn’t get within arm’s reach without the air itself biting him. All the trees within five man-lengths of the wall were gone, there was only a gray fine ash where they should have been, so they couldn’t climb anything from which to leap to the other side; there were no branches poking over from beyond the barrier, so presumably the trees there had met the same fate. The wall curved around into the distance in both directions. It seemed to enclose them. As soon as they regained enough spirit, they were going to pick a direction and start walking that way, looking for a gap. Chert couldn’t think of what else to do.

  “Hey, guys,” called Veela in her own language when she saw them. She waved, having no idea how close Chert was to earnestly trying to kill her. Part of what enraged him was the unnatural white of the hides she wore, white like t
hat damned wall (or whatever it was—Chert and the Jaw didn’t even have a word for “wall”).

  The Jaw, though, was glad to see her.

  Exhausted from her hike, Veela plopped down to sit with them, all smiles. She’d decided to act like, the last time they’d seen her, they hadn’t run off and left her to die at the snout of that deer. To accent her friendliness, she wasn’t even wearing her visor down, reckless as that might be. She wanted allies who could show her the ropes, could show her how to make a spear and could potentially decide to stay and fight alongside her the next time a zombie deer popped up. She wanted it badly enough to gamble that they all knew each other well enough now that Chert wouldn’t hit her in the face with a rock again.

  “I’m going to kill her,” snarled Chert.

  “Then I’ll try to kill you,” said the Jaw. He hadn’t forgiven his father for abandoning Veela.

  Chert backed down. He glowered at Veela, resenting her for creating still more friction between himself and his son.

  Veela hadn’t understood the exchange, but she tried not to squirm under that formidable glare. She’d been about to take off her helmet, which she’d kept on ever since the deer had caught her undefended; Chert’s murderous look gave her pause. But it was important to send any signals she could that she was a friend, someone who felt comfortable with them and with whom they should feel comfortable, so she took it off and set it on her lap. Immediately the Jaw took it from her. She thought, with near-panic, that he was confiscating it, but soon saw he only wanted to examine it curiously.

  While the Jaw was rapping on the helmet with his knuckles and trying to squeeze his too-big head into it, Chert demanded, “What is this?,” pointing at the wall.

  She tried to meet his glare meekly, remembering how he’d hit her in the face with a rock. For the next little while she tried to explain to Chert what the wall was, but of course she couldn’t know the word for “wall” when the language didn’t even have one; she thought “cliff” might have worked, sort of, but she didn’t know that word either; so she tried telling Chert it was a kind of a long hill, which only confused him more and made him even angrier. Finally she opted for defining it according to its function: “Purpose: no-die, can’t move.”