Rage Against the Dying (The Secret Apocalypse Book 8)

by James Harden

  “I’m sorry,” Maria blurts out. “We’re sorry. We were being shot at. We were…”

  “Excuse me? Did I say you could speak? Did I say anything even remotely along those lines?”

  Maria closes her mouth and again looks away.

  “Yes, you were being shot at. I can understand that. But you were sneaking around in the dark. You were armed. Poorly. But still, you were armed. And you ran. Only the guilty and the weak run. And you are not weak. You are so not weak. But you didn’t once try and make contact. You didn’t once raise your hands in the air and let your presence be known. You didn’t lay down your pathetic weapons. You did the exact goddamn opposite! And as a result, people were killed!”

  This version of events is kind of true but mostly twisted. We didn’t have a chance to make contact, did we? They would’ve shot us anyway, right? I don’t know. All I know is, they shot without warning and they shot to kill and what the hell else were we supposed to do?

  All this plays out in my mind, but I don’t dare speak. I don’t want my face to be broken.

  Out the corner of my eye I see Sarah get back to her knees. Her nose is crooked and blood is pouring down her face, but other than that she looks surprisingly fine.

  And Xavier says, “Yeah, look at this! What a legend. You people are not weak. You are very, very strong. And I gotta say, I am very impressed.” He turns to his men. “Take a look at this you bunch of pansies. You could learn a thing or two from this little girl.”

  He then turns back to us and says, mainly to himself, “Missing an arm. And can still take a beating. Amazing. Simply amazing.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Anyway, I’m getting off topic. I need to wrap this up because I want to get some shut eye and get back to Kingswood later tonight so we can load up on goodies.”

  Xavier then takes his helmet off and hands it to one of his men. He has long greasy hair. Rough stubble. He has an eye patch over his right eye that I’m guessing he lost the hard way.

  “Don’t wanna catch any of you pricks staring at my eye,” he says. And then he raises his sword. “They say all the best swords have names. I don’t know who the hell actually ever said this, but I’m sure it was someone who knew what they were talking about. Do you want to know what I named this sword?”

  He looks at us for a response. But we are not forthcoming with a response because we are all terrified.

  “I named it ‘Painbringer’. Do you want to know why I named it Painbringer?” Again he looks at all of us, waiting for a response. “No? No one? OK, I’ll just go ahead and tell you. I named it Painbringer because this magnificent blade… it brings the pain. It’s self-explanatory, really.”

  He points the sword at Clark. “Bring him here.”

  Two men pick up Clark and drag him over to Xavier and drop him at his feet.

  “Clark. You were a good soldier. A great soldier. You were an excellent scout and an even better recruiter. You were a fantastic enforcer. But you messed up. You got yourself captured by a bunch of goddamn teenagers. And yes, these particular teenagers are very exceptional. But nonetheless, you slipped up. You got careless. And then, to make matters worse, once captured, you tried to save yourself. You defected in a heartbeat. Did you even resist for one second?” He rests Painbringer on Clark’s shoulder. “Nah, you’d already made up your mind. I know. It’s OK. You don’t have to lie to me anymore. There’s no point in lying to me anymore. But that is two strikes. You got caught. You defected. And I know you’d been planning on defecting for quite some time. The fact that you didn’t tell me about these thoughts, the fact that you didn’t tell me about the space age bomb shelter you found, is strike three. And Clark, these sins are unforgivable. Totally and utterly unforgivable. Three strikes, Clark…”

  Clark is looking straight up at Xavier. “I did what I had to do,” he says, cutting Xavier off, defending himself, his actions.

  Suddenly Xavier points his sword at Maria. “You, blondie. Do you know how to find this bomb shelter? Could you lead us back there? Or at least point to it on a map?”

  Maria nods her head.

  “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

  “Ye… yes.”

  “Good. Oh and Clark, if you interrupt me again, I will draw this out for months.”

  Clark keeps his mouth shut. Resigned to his fate.

  And Xavier continues on with his judgement. “I don’t want to kill you, Clark. I need more men like you. Well, not exactly like you. But I need men with your skillset and they just don’t come along very often. So no, I do not want to kill you. But I need to kill you. You have left me with no option.” He raises the sword. “Do you have anything else you’d like to say in your defense?”

  Clark begs for his life. Sort of. He says, “Please… please don’t. I can still serve you. I can still…”

  And that’s all he gets to say.

  Xavier brings the sword down, splitting Clark’s head wide open, practically splitting it in two. He ends Clark’s life in a heartbeat, he ends it mid-sentence.

  And Xavier says, “That was for interrupting me, you jerk.”

  Riches and Ruins.

  Clark falls over in a heap and Xavier chuckles to himself. “Heh. Maybe I should’ve called it Deathbringer.” He then wipes the sword clean on Clark’s shirt. “Need to keep the blade clean. Blood can cause rust.”

  Maria tries to scurry back, but one of the men keeps a hold of her. She’s not going anywhere. None of us are going anywhere or doing anything. Not unless Xavier gives the order.

  Xavier says to Maria, “You know, blondie, if you’d said you had no idea where his hide site is, I would’ve needed to have kept him alive. But thanks for speeding that whole process up.”

  Maria is in shock, tears streaking down her face.

  Don’t listen to him, Maria. He’s trying to break you down. They already know where the bomb shelter is. They’ve probably known for a long time. He said so himself.

  Don’t listen to him. It is not your fault that Clark is dead.

  But Maria is horrified and confused and there is no way she is thinking clearly. And I think she actually does feel guilty and responsible.

  “Here’s the deal,” Xavier says as he continues to clean the sword. “I’m probably going to let you live. I had to punish Clark. I had to. But the killing stops now. As long as you don’t cause any more trouble. And trust me, you don’t want to do that. I have an army. I could crush you if I wanted to. But no one wants that either. The world is full of dead people. But worse, it’s full of the living. It’s full of killers and rapists and cannibals and self-proclaimed Kings. I will protect you from these foes. All you have to do is serve me. All you have to do is join my army, my cause. Fight for me. Fight for freedom.”

  He puts his sword away, slings it over his back. “Sounds like a good deal, right? I let you live and all you have to do is join up. Enlist. All you have to do is fight for me. I think it’s a fantastic deal. All right, you’re free to go.”

  And he turns away from us, and for a second I think it’s over, for a second I think we’ve been let off the hook.

  But Xavier says, “Ahh… who the hell am I kidding? I can’t let you leave. Not after what you’ve done. Tag ‘em and bag ‘em, fellas!”

  Tag? What does he mean by tag?

  One of the men steps forward with a long iron pole. The pole is connected to an electrical wire that runs all the way back to one of the SUV’s.

  At the other end of the iron pole, the business end, is the letter X.

  It is red hot.

  This is a branding iron.

  This is supposed to be used on cattle.

  This is what he means when he says, tag ‘em.

  X for Xavier…

  “No,” I say, unable to hold my tongue. “You can’t do this.”

  “I can do this. I need to do this. Not only did you kill my people, but you blew up my goddamn fuel tanker. I mean sure, we’ve got a few others. And we’ve got access to an entire depot full
of petrol and diesel and all sorts of flammable liquids. But a fuel tanker is a fuel tanker and it’s a big bloody thing so I need to punish you for that. But would you relax?” he says, pointing at the red hot branding iron. “This will only hurt for a second or two and then it’s all over. And look, all my people have got one. They’ve all been branded. It’s a badge of honor.”

  I look at Clark’s lifeless body, slumped over in a heap. I look at his right hand. And sure enough, there is an X on the back of his hand. I didn’t see the raised ridges of the scar before. Why didn’t I see it? His hands were covered in blood when we first saw him. They’ve been covered in blood this whole time. Plus, it was night and we had just been in a fire fight. We had been running and fighting for our lives. And little things, little details like branded flesh are slipping us by.

  “You want to fit in, don’t you?” Xavier continues. “You want to be part of my group, don’t you? We’re going to rebuild the world. Don’t you want to get in on the ground floor?”

  Rebuild the world. I would love to help rebuild the world. But that’s not what this guy is doing.

  He points at Kim. “She’s first. She’s been giving me the most lip.”

  “Kim hasn’t said a goddamn thing!” Jack says, defending his sister.

  This is weird because Kim usually can’t keep her mouth shut. She usually can’t help herself. But at this moment, Kim looks just as terrified as the rest of us.

  “Yeah, but look at her,” Xavier says. “She’s been giving me the stink eye all day.”

  “You’re crazy!” Jack shouts, on the verge of doing something very stupid. “We’re not joining you. We’ll never join you!”

  “Yes, you will. Maybe not at first. But after a while, after you’ve seen the alternative, after you’ve experienced the alternative, you will be more than willing and more than happy to join my crusade, to risk your life for mine. To give your life for the cause.”

  He calls it a crusade. A cause. And I think he actually means it.

  It takes three men to hold Kim down.

  A fourth one joins in.

  I have to keep reminding myself that she’s got NVX flowing through her veins, and as a result, she is abnormally strong. But four of the biggest men in the group have pinned her to the ground. And even though she is strong, there is nothing she can do, and nothing I or anyone else can do but watch.

  “Please,” she begs. “Please don’t. Please!”

  “Relax,” Xavier says. “This is not the end of the world. We’re way past that. This is how we rebuild…”

  And with that twisted line of thought and reason, Xavier grabs the iron pole and holds the red hot end right over Kim’s hand.

  She fights. She struggles.

  Xavier takes a step back. “Hold her still, dammit!”

  His men follow orders. No questions asked. They hold her still.

  And Xavier brands Kim and I can actually hear the flesh sizzle and sear. I see smoke. I smell it. I smell burning skin and flesh.

  I hear Kim scream and scream and scream.

  Xavier stands back and admires his work. “OK, I lied before about it only hurting for a few seconds. It’ll hurt for a while. A good long while actually. During which time you can think long and hard about my generous offer. I mean, look at my men. Do they look hungry? Do they look upset? Do they look like they’re being mistreated in any way? Hey! Don’t look at Clark. You know what he did. He deserved his fate. He deserved to have his head split open like a ripe watermelon. But listen up and listen well because I promise you this… If you join me, if you pledge your undying and unwavering loyalty to me, if you do exactly as I say when I say it, you will be rewarded with all the riches of this ruined world.”

  I look at Kenji, at Jack. I try and get a read on what they’re thinking.

  But I can’t get a read. They are all in shock. Jack looks like he is in pain. His face is all scrunched up, like he is in actual physical pain.

  Kenji has his head lowered.

  Maria is crying uncontrollably, almost convulsing.

  Sarah is silent. Blank and emotionless, like maybe she’s experienced this kind of thing before, and maybe because she’s already had her arm severed she is immune to this kind of torture and intimidation.

  Kim is still screaming. But eventually she stops and the men let go of her. She curls up into a ball and holds her wrist and her hand is shaking and her whole body is shaking.

  Xavier holds the branding iron, holds it close to our faces. Taunts us with it. It is so close I can feel the searing heat and I need to turn away.

  And Xavier says, “So… who’s next?”

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  Coming Soon…

  Secret Apocalypse Book 9

  OUT NOW

  The Lost Journal

  (A Secret Apocalypse Story)

  The Lost Journal Part 2

  Villains of the Apocalypse

  Also by J. L. / James Harden

  Wasteland Wonderland

  Ninja Vs Samurai

  For more info visit jamesharden.blogspot.au

  Or Tweet me @james.harden07 or whatever.

  Or email me at james.harden07@gmail.com

  I don’t have Instagram yet. But maybe soon? Why not, right? Could be nice.

  The following is an excerpt from…

  Ninja Vs Samurai

  The Dark Shogun

  It has been twenty long years since the Dark Shogun’s victory at the Great War. After the war, everyone expected peace. Everyone wanted peace.

  But in the twenty years since the war there has only been fear and uncertainty and oppression.

  The Shogun, with the approval of Emperor Yozei, has outlawed the Samurai class and the public display of swords.

  He has outlawed the use of Ninja and the practice of Ninjutsu.

  He has outlawed the Kensei Order, the legendary Sword Saints of Japan.

  After the Kensei surrendered, he began systematically dismantling the great Samurai clans.

  The Shogun’s army would be the only military force.

  The Ninja clans retreated to their secret mountain villages.

  The great Samurai clans chose to fight.

  They were crushed.

  The Shogun’s army is too massive. Too ruthless.

  The Dark Shogun now rules the country with absolute power.

  Some say he is invincible. Some say he is a God.

  Only a handful of Samurai clans remain. Only a handful of Kensei warriors remain.

  But not for long…

  Ito Isamu and the Massacre at Kumamoto Castle

  Isamu knelt on the matted floor in a room deep within Kumamoto Castle. A single candle illuminated the darkness. The flame was long and still.

  Isamu clumsily poured himself another drink of rice wine, filling his cup so that it overflowed. He lifted the drink to his lips and downed it in one gulp. The room began to spin.

  For nearly twenty years, since the end of the Great War, Isamu had been a guest, or more accurately a tourist attraction at Kumamoto Castle. Billed as the ‘Last Kensei Master’, the ‘Last Sword Saint’, people would come from all over to get a glimpse of the old warrior.

  And for twenty years he had eased this humiliation and suffering with alcohol.

  Isamu knew the title of the ‘Last Kensei Master’ wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t sure of the actual number of surviving members, but he knew he wasn’t the last. There was maybe a handful or so left alive. They survived by hiding in plain sight. They survived by keeping quiet and keeping to themselves. Hundreds had died during the Great War at the hands of the Dark Shogun, during the Betrayal, along with tens of thousands of Samurai. And since the end of the war, even more had died. The Kensei Order had been outlawed. Their numbers had been decimated.

  Isamu had heard the whispered rumors that the Kensei were being hunted by the Dark Shogun and his assassins, but he did not believe them. To betray and trick the Kensei in the theatre of war was one thing, but to hunt th
em down? To beat them in an honorable fight? No one was powerful enough or skilled enough to hunt and kill the Kensei.

  Not the Dark Shogun.

  Not his army.

  Not his assassins.

  The only enemy capable of such a feat were the demon Ninja known as the Immortals. But no one had seen or heard from them in centuries. As far as anyone knew, the old Kensei warriors had banished the Immortals to the deepest pit of hell. And that is where they had remained ever since.

  Isamu downed another drink.

  The wine has hit me hard tonight, he thought.

  Outside in the hallway he heard a noise that sounded like a muffled cry. He wiped the wine off his mouth and chin. A split second later a slight disturbance broke the calm of the room. The flame of the candle moved, its shadows coming to life.

  Isamu began slowly reaching for his katana. The sword was resting next to him in its scabbard.

  “Do not move,” a voice spoke from the dark.

  It was a voice that Isamu knew well. “Goda,” he whispered. “Only someone as reckless and desperate as you would dare infiltrate Kumamoto Castle.”

  “I disagree. The guards here have become complacent and arrogant. Their arrogance has cost them dearly. You all think you are so far away from the capital, from the Shogun’s wrath. But there is nowhere you can hide. Nowhere you can run. The guards were weak. The guards are no more.”

  Isamu tensed. Goda had already killed tonight. “Why are you here?”

  “You know why,” Goda answered. “I am here for you. The Shogun’s Elite is near. They will take hostages back to the capital. They will force the Kumamoto Samurai to lay down their swords. If they do not obey, they will die. And Kumamoto will be burnt to the ground.”