“I’m honestly not sure how to handle this,” Mary paced near the door with Amy in her hands and the rifle over her shoulder. “If it were just me…”
“It’s not just you.” Anthony interrupted.
“I know, darlin’,” Mary was quick to quell his concerns. “I was referring to our new, crippled friend.” Hernando made no reply, verbally or emotionally. “We could run, but that has risks. We could try and sneak through, which would probably fail. We could fight, but that would put you two in danger…” Hernando’s well-being was not a great concern of Mary’s. Mary was also displeased with all of these different options she had in front of her. She didn’t like things overly complicated without her own doing, so her final decision was to simply un-complicate them. “Meh, fuck it; I’ll improvise as we go.”
Mary’s last words were not very encouraging to Hernando, but Serena and Anthony seemed perfectly at ease with them. They clearly knew more than he did about the crazy woman’s abilities, so he kept his peace. Ten minutes later they were all loaded into Serena’s car and heading back out onto the open road.
The sky was overcast with a blanket of light, gray clouds that morning. Although the sky was menacing, it had no inclinations of bringing rain or wind; a dreary coldness was all that lingered. Mary watched as Emerald Bay disappeared from her sight as Serena headed south through the hills and mountains. The two women rode up front, Serena driving as usual, and Anthony and Hernando shared the now crowded backseat. Nobody spoke for a long time. As Mary stared into the dark waters of Lake Tahoe one of her many senses spoke to her. It was more than just a feeling, Mary was convinced that she was never going to see this beautiful place again.
Once again Lincoln Highway was the road of choice. Serena traveled westward through the mountains until Lincoln Highway was left behind, for the last time, for what remained of the El Dorado Freeway. As the mountains waned, discarded vehicles began appearing again. Some were damaged; some were not. Whether by man, monster, or alien EMP, it was difficult to discern which was the true culprit behind these hollow remains of human technology. The vehicles were scattered across the highway, sporadically limited at first, but the amount increased as Serena, Anthony, Mary, and Hernando neared the city of Placerville. As the ghosts of civilization emerged from the trees and the hills, Serena slowed the pace of her car. Anxieties she had freed herself from for those few wondrous days in Lake Tahoe returned as if they were never gone at all. Mary, too, was attentive. This place was mostly unknown to her. Her senses were her greatest asset, the normal five and whatever others she had in her arsenal. It was not long before they proved their worth. About four miles from the outskirts of Placerville, Mary spotted something in a field. She had seen something like it before near Battle Mountain. The horrible memories returned to her as she commanded Serena to stop the car.
The field was on the south side of the freeway. Mary got out of the car and made her way into the field and towards the object that had grabbed her attention. Serena, Anthony, and Hernando were not far behind. As Serena approached, she caught sight of the object that Mary was so enraptured with. It appeared to be an inverted, metal cross made of rusting poles that stood about as tall as Mary. One pole was actually a thick pipe that was driven into the ground. About a foot from the bottom was a cheap, metallic pole that was wired to the vertical pipe, forming what appeared to be an upside down cross.
“What is this?” Serena asked. She looked around nervously, examining her dreary surroundings. Anthony and Hernando made their way to her side; both were equally as confused as she was.
“I don’t remember seeing this here when we came through.” Hernando commented; though he didn’t remember looking all that thoroughly either. He did, however, recall seeing similar crosses scattered throughout the state on his journey north to Walnut Grove.
Mary made no reply. Instead, she approached the reprehensible cross and grasped ahold of it with both hands. She boosted herself up onto the tips of her toes and held her ear to the hole at the end of the vertical pipe. Even with the loud thumping of her heart, Mary could clearly hear the sound of faint panting. She released the pipe and took a step back. Rage and despair warred within her, but it was despair that was victorious, for now.
“Anthony,” Mary spoke coldly, still looking at the cross. “Do you have the tape with you?”
Anthony did. It was in his backpack, which was still in the car. He ran back and retrieved the duct tape without a moment’s hesitation. The boy was curious and very frightened; he had never seen Mary show such disturbing emotion over anything. What did that cross mean?
“I have it.” Anthony spoke as he returned. Mary never turned around; she only put out her hand to receive the tape. Anthony gently handed it to her.
Mary ripped a piece of cloth from the sweater she was wearing and stuffed it into the end of the pipe. She then wrapped the duct tape around and around the end of the pipe until the cloth-stuffed hole was completely sealed. She then took a step back.
“Mary, what is this thing?” Serena repeated her question. Mary took a deep breath and turned around. Her eyes seemed to lack their normal zest and beauty; they now seemed vacant and void of their vibrant colors.
“It’s a sacrifice.” Mary handed the tape back to Anthony.
“A sacrifice?” Serena suspected the answer that was to come. She prayed dearly that she was wrong and meekly implored, “A sacrifice to what?”
“To the Devil.” Mary answered. “Umbra Diaboli.”
“What is this… cross?” Hernando outlined a proper cross over his heart as he asked the question. He feared it was more than just a religious mockery.
“That pipe leads down to a grave,” Mary paused for a moment to shake away her forlorn tone. She was not successful. “It doesn’t take long, normally, before you fall into a coma and suffocate to death when you’re buried alive…”
“Mother of God.” Hernando spoke in disgust. His soul itself felt sickened.
“Normally?” Serena had put together the pieces, yet her mind tried desperately to cling to denial.
Anthony did not cling to denial; he saw everything clearly. “That pipe is a breathing tube,” his voice nearly failed him. “Somebody’s still alive down there.”
“Not for much longer.” Mary’s despair was gone now; rage had won the war.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Hernando seethed at Mary. “We have to get them outta there!”
“You can’t help them.” Mary stated with a strange sort of compassion.
“Like hell I can’t.” Hernando looked to Serena and Anthony for support. Anthony looked ill – his gaze never leaving the earth at the base of the cross. Serena seemed distraught and confused, but still functional. “We still have time.”
“That time has long past.” Mary replied.
“Why can’t we help them?” Serena inquired despondently.
“We still can, please…” Hernando pleaded.
“Have you ever been buried alive?” Mary spoke to Hernando. “I haven’t, personally, but I can’t image a worse way to go.”
“You’ve seen this before,” stated Serena.
“Yes I have,” Mary confirmed. “After we killed the Umbra in Battle Mountain we found three of these graves. We dug them up to try to free the poor fuckers inside. Two were still alive; a man and a woman. The other one was dead. I still remember his face, perfectly. It’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. As for the other two,” Mary casually shrugged. “They wouldn’t respond. Their eyes were open, but they couldn’t see anything. The woman screamed every now and then, but… their minds were gone. There was nothing we could do, except for the obvious.”
“This is wrong beyond words.” Hernando wanted to save this person, whoever it was buried alive beneath his feet. That was the job he was sent to do, save people, but still he did nothing. Hernando believed every word that Mary spoke and he had no desires to witness what she had seen. Being bound for days, or longer, in the cold, quiet
darkness; it was something he could not fathom.
“I agree.” Mary walked away from the others and returned to the car. Serena touched her son on the shoulder and they both walked back together.
Hernando lingered a moment longer. “I’m sorry.” He apologized to the grave below him. He wished to say more, a prayer perhaps, but nothing would come to him. Cold terror was all that Hernando could feel. He turned away shamefully and limped back to Serena’s car.
As soon as Hernando returned to the vehicle, Serena started it up and continued westward. More and more dead automobiles were piling up upon the freeway. At one point the entire freeway was nearly impassable as the wreckage of a downed helicopter littered the roadway. They had hardly gone a mile when Mary stopped Serena again.
“Have you ever seen the movie Rebecca?” Mary calmly asked as she leaned forward and stared through the windshield and into the sky.
“No.” Serena answered.
“Have you ever read the book?” Mary asked, still staring into the sky.
“I haven’t.” Serena answered, again.
“They’re both pretty good.” Mary spoke as she leaned back into her seat and picked up Amy from the floor.
“Mary, why’re we stopped?” Serena was confused, as was Anthony and Hernando.
Mary gleefully motioned, with her hatchet, out the windshield towards a hill to the north. She then opened her door and left the vehicle. Immediately, Serena leaned forward and looked to where Mary was motioning. It was difficult to see with the cloudy sky, but the smoke from a small fire was visible atop a nearby hill.
“Little brother, my sweetling, my darlin’,” Mary startled everyone as she poked her head back through the car door and spoke to Anthony. The vibrant colors had returned to her eyes and her tone was playfully menacing once again. “Would you mind getting something for me?”
“Sir, father, should I bury the fire now?” The youthful man asked of his master.
“No, let it burn a little longer, child.” The elder replied.
The youth wore tattered clothes that barely covered him: mere ragged garments dangling from his thin body. He stayed upon his knees, ever suppliant, until his master told him to do otherwise. The master was much older. Unlike the fresh faced youth, his face was coarse with a thick beard and heavy eyebrows. He wore a heavy, hooded cloak, which shielded him from the coldness of the dreary day, and in his hands he carried an SKS carbine rifle. Both men belonged to the Umbra Diaboli.
The elder Umbra was seated on a ragged stool just behind the shoddily clothed youth. The younger man was the elder’s protégé, and the elder Umbra controlled every aspect of the youth’s life: when he ate, what he ate, what he wore, how he lived, and if or when he would die. The elder did with the youth whatever he pleased; it was the dogma of the Umbra Diaboli, and if any pupils ever strayed from this creed they would find themselves a soon-to-be-sacrifice. Sacrifices use to be by fire, but those ways became too dangerous as the Sayona would occasionally come across the charred remains of a victim. The beasts knew that other humans were the perpetrators of this bizarre ritual, so they meticulously searched for the offending Umbras after finding the burnt corpses. The Umbra Diaboli soon chose brutal burials as their new form of sacrifice. The Sayona would often find the inverted crosses as well, but it was more difficult to determine how long a sacrifice had been buried—even if they were still alive—compared to the victims that had been burned. The offending Umbras could be a hundred miles away before their sacrifice was found. Living victims that the Sayona dug up were immediately killed and consumed… they were the luckier sacrifices.
A sudden wayward wind resurrected the dying flames of the fire just in front of the youth. The elder Umbra stood from his seat and walked past the youth, letting his thick cloak drape across the boy as he did. The older man slowly walked to the edge of the hill and looked down upon the larger camp below where two dozen of his fellow Umbra Diaboli sojourned. Two large, 6X6 five ton trucks and two small, unpretentious cars were currently in the process of being refueled and tended to. All of the other Umbra were standing, sitting, or lying around the vehicles waiting for the fuel to be rationed. The elder and his apprentice were the lookouts. It was unlikely that anything would go amiss, but three men had come through days before and killed four of the Umbras. They had escaped deep into the Sierra Mountains, which was a dead zone ruled by the Sayona, so their return was not expected. Nevertheless, another Umbra sacrifice could always come wandering in.
“Stand from the flames,” the elder Umbra commanded his younger. The boy stood from the warm fire to feel the chilling cold air from the mountains, just as his master wanted. “People speak of the fires of Hell,” The elder went on as he observed the other Umbras camped down below him. “They know not what they speak of. In truth, there are no fires in Hell. With fire comes light and warmth – two things you will never find in the Devil’s domain. Cold, eternal darkness… that is what Hell truly is.”
The youth subtly shivered as he listened to his master speak. Even if the elder man had said nothing, the younger Umbra still never would have heard the silent footfalls of Mary Murder. The moment the elder Umbra turned his back, Mary soundlessly sprinted up behind the standing youth and grabbed him by the mouth with her right hand. In her left hand was Amy the Axe, and with her vicious hatchet Mary reached around and tore open the boy’s throat. Mary pulled back on his head with the hand that silenced him to further open his gushing wound, which doused the fire below them with blood.
“I have seen this cold darkness, and I will see it again. As will you my child…” The elder Umbra continued to speak. He heard nothing of the quiet murder taking place behind him, but a soft, sudden rain of blood appearing all around him silenced his sermon. He turned his head to see the source and was instantly struck dead as Mary hurled her hatchet through the air and buried its blade between his eyes. The elder Umbra dropped his weapon, stumbled a few steps, and then fell to the ground.
Mary let the younger Umbra slide from her arms and fall into the remains of the campfire. She then walked to the elder Umbra, placed her foot upon his neck, and ripped Amy from his skull. Mary stood upon the edge of the embankment overlooking the many more Umbras waiting below. Any one of them could have easily seen her upon the hill had they bothered to look. None of them did.
Serena, Anthony, and Hernando came out of hiding and ventured into the hilltop campsite with Mary. Anthony had something in his arms: a large object wrapped in a thick, blue blanket. Hernando stared at Mary standing upon the ridge of the hilltop. She had fastened her hair into angel wings that day giving her a macabre, child-like appearance as Amy dripped thick drops of blood from her murderous blade. He had heard tales of Mary’s coldblooded viciousness, mostly from Mary herself, but to see it firsthand was a thing of brutal beauty. Hernando was equal parts terrified and astounded. Serena walked over to join Mary at the ridge. She, too, looked down upon the other Umbras.
“So, what do you think, Mama Bear?” Mary calmly asked as both women observed the enemy below them.
Quickly and quietly running away would be the sage tactic of dealing with these murdering monsters, Serena thought. Yet she never spoke the words. She was tired of running from evil men who would just track her down later, or kill some other innocent instead.
“They worship Hell, don’t they?” Serena spoke vindictively as she observed the oblivious Umbras below her. These creatures were the true terrors unleashed upon the world, Serena sincerely believed. They were here before the Sayona and they are still here after… for now. Serena then looked to Mary and added, “So send them all there.”
“With delight,” Mary smiled. She hooked Amy to one of her belt loops then pointed to Anthony and spoke, “I’ll be needing Rebecca now.”
Anthony gently laid the draped object upon the ground in front of him. He dropped to his knees and unwrapped the mysterious, blue blanket to reveal Rebecca – a Milkor 40mm revolving automatic grenade launcher. The weapon was loaded w
ith six explosive rounds. Anthony carefully picked it up and walked it over to Mary. He casually stepped over the corpse of the younger Umbra; as he did and silently noted, I’m getting far too use to this.
Anthony and Hernando backed away as Mary lifted the launcher to her shoulder and aimed down her scope. Serena did not move; she wanted to see this. It only took seconds for Mary to size up her targets and choose her path of fire. With a swift left to right sweep, Mary fired off four consecutive shots from the launcher. Each round exploded about a meter before impact, causing a wide swath of damage that took out every vehicle. Barrels and gas cans also went ablaze. To Mary’s amusement and pleasure, but not surprise, one of the large trucks had a cask of white phosphorus grenades hidden in its bed, which immediately detonated after she rained down explosive death upon the Umbras. The inferno instantly turned into a living hellfire that consumed all of the Umbra Diaboli within the camp.
Ashes and fiery debris soon began to shower down upon the hilltop. Mary and Serena watched the fierce firestorm burn below for a few moments more before finally turning away. Anthony held out Rebecca’s blue blanket as Mary unloaded the remaining two rounds from the launcher; she then handed him back the weapon.
“Now what?” Hernando asked as he shielded his head from the raining fire.
“That fire won’t be goin’ out anytime soon,” Mary giggled. “We’ll let the Sayona finish off any stragglers.”
“Do we make a run for L.A.?” Serena asked as she picked up the elder Umbra’s SKS carbine. “Or do we hide?”
“We take a little detour and lay low,” Mary answered. “Ever been to Yosemite? I hear it’s lovely this time of year!”
“How long?” Hernando understood Mary’s concerns. The roads south were dangerous, but he still longed to be home more than anything. Mary was his best chance of getting back there alive, so he did not question her tactics, out loud.
In the Aftermath: Burning of the Dawn Page 47