“And grow they did. They spread out, covering the face of your Earth, and when the time was right, I returned. That cycle has repeated endlessly since that day, and shall continue today. The honour of this is yours.”
“Honour? Where is the honour in consigning ourselves to be a snack for you?” Luna spat.
“That question is so tedious,” Conquest drew himself up to his full height, towering over them all and dominating the room. “Every time the cycle repeats, you simply refuse to bow before me immediately. Why? Is it simply not sufficient to recognize my dominance of your puny species?”
“Humanity does not generally bear the yoke of masters longer than necessary,” Tanya cut in. “What you believe to be superiority means little to us. You've invaded our world, destroyed our homes, slaughtered our friends and family, and all that we've ever loved, and then expect us to prostrate ourselves before you and simply go along with whatever you want without question?”
“Not without question,” Conquest's jovial demeanour was slowly being replaced by a guttural obstinacy. “The question, however, was settled long before any of you were ever born – before any of your civilizations were ever born, even. You will accept my authority, and you shall do so for a simple reason: if you do not, your entire species will be destroyed, completely and utterly. Think carefully, young ones – my hunger is nearly sated, and I ask for one mere sacrifice to complete my nourishment. Then I shall leave your race alone, allow you to rebuild and grow anew, and when the time is right, I shall return and we will dance our dance again.”
Like a knight throwing a gauntlet, Conquest threw a small golden box at their feet; it broke apart as it landed, transforming into four golden daggers, glinting and gleaming with an eerie inner light.
“Simply pick them up,” Conquest whispered seductively. His voice echoed through the chamber. “Plunge them into your hearts and accept your fate; give your essence to me, and I shall be sated. Dive into the comforting blackness of death's embrace, and comfort yourselves in the knowledge that your sacrifice will bring life to your species once again!”
“No,” said Jeremy, drawing himself up to his full height in defiance of the flood of information that threatened to overwhelm him. “We will destroy you. Your influence over our world has ended, monster!”
Leaping through the air, he landed on Conquest’s chest, driving his blades deep into where his heart would have been, had the giant been a human. It roared in pain. Tanya ran forward to assist him, grasping the giant’s arms and holding them behind its back while Jeremy stabbed it over and over again. Michael thrust his hands into the wounds the swords left behind, unleashing blasts of fiery rage within the giant’s body, and Luna directed a stead stream of dazzlingly numbing cold at the creature’s head. Pinned under the assault and unable to fight back, the giant screamed in true agony for the first time in its infinite existence.
The giant struck back with terrifying ferocity. His right fist, nearly twice as large as Jeremy's head, lashed out and struck him with the force of a speeding truck. He tumbled through the air, frantically lashing out with tendrils of force to slow his flight enough that the impact did not crush him into a fine paste. The horseman's left fist plowed into Tanya's chest with terrible might. The spindly tattoos on her arms glowed brightly, and his fearsome blow only forced her feet to dig deeply into the black stone floor. She struck with all her force at his wrist, battering him with enough intensity to drive him backwards.
Jeremy rose to his feet, eyes glowing a brilliant white. He screamed a primal scream, which Tanya, Michael, and Luna echoed. Michael's eyes blazed orange-white, Tanya's a deep brown, and Luna's bright blue. With one combined assault, they brought all of their power to bear on the mighty giant. Streaming bolts of force shot forth from Jeremy, joined by searing arcs of flame from Michael, jagged bolts of frost from Luna, and followed up with a leaping kick from Tanya, delivered to the giant's heart.
Conquest, the bringer of Pestilence, the destroyer of civilizations, the death of the world, fell to his knees and died with a roar. The castle shook and shuddered violently, creaking and groaning in a chaotic song of stone grinding against stone.
“Run!” Jeremy shouted. They fled to the exit, rushing out of the castle as swiftly as their superhuman bodies could carry them, and just in time - the structure collapsed in their wake, forcing a shock wave of dust outwards in all directions.
Everyone picked themselves up and dusted themselves off, looking around to ensure that they were all fine. Jeremy embraced Tanya tightly, sharing a tender kiss as they rejoiced in their collective safety and victory. Michael surveyed the remains of the city far below them - in the shadows of the night, fires could be seen, and damaged buildings threatened to collapse under their own weight. Luna was grinning, her eyes still blazing bright blue.
“I know that look,” Jeremy said with a smile, nudging Luna's arm.
“I never thought anything would be better than sex,” she said, her voice full of humble awe. “But that...that was something new entirely.”
“What happened?”
“Those knives that Conquest threw at us...on our way out, I picked one up. I guess when I fell on our way out, it did this,” she showed him a deep cut in her upper left forearm. Golden sparkles lined the edges of the wound, and sparkling traces of runic script were slowly spreading across her arm in gentle waves.
“So...what now? We beat the bad guys, saved the future...now what?”
“Now,” Jeremy said, turning his eyes to Tanya, “we rebuild. We provide the safety and shelter that our governments could not. We give guidance to those who remain, and we steer humanity in the right direction.”
“The future looks bright,” Luna said. For the first time since they’d met, she seemed to be truly at ease. “With us at the wheel, how could it not?”
“There are still plenty of ways things could go wrong,” Tanya reminded her. “We just need to keep in mind who we are, and who we were. We need to teach the truth to those who survive, and when we have done all we can, the future will be in their hands.”
“Not to be a downer, but what about all the zombies?” Michael asked. “Did they just...poof?”
“I doubt we'd be so lucky,” Jeremy said with a laugh. “I'm sure there are plenty of them out there – plenty to kill, and survivors to rescue. It won't be an easy job.”
“Ah, hell,” Michael said. “Count me in.”
“Me too,” Luna said.
“I guess I can't just leave you all to do something stupid, and end up dead,” Tanya said with a smile.
The cloud cover above them parted, revealing a sky studded with brilliantly bright stars, twinkling and shining invitingly. The luminous blanket above the Earth seemed to be a final reassurance that things would truly be fine, no matter what wrinkles the future may have in store.
THE END
Epilogues
Not all of those who perished in the great zombie apocalypse died immediately. Some died anonymously, victims of accidents and sickness, just as on any other day in human history. Some fell, not to the assault of undead hordes, but by their own hand. There were hard choices to be made, and humanity faced them as it always did. Jeremy, Tanya, Luna, and Michael were unique, each an avatar of the destructive tide of the apocalypse in their own right. The rest of the vast masses of humanity knew nothing of their struggles, their metamorphosis, and their fight to survive the undead threat, and their battles with the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Here are some of the stories of those others, those souls whose battles ended not with clashes of glory and power, but anonymously. You are the only one who will bear witness to their tales.
***
Day 4 – 13:45:00 CST
New York City, New York
A handwritten letter lay on the table; the ink was still wet, glinting in the rays of the sun's dying light. The sun's rays streamed in through the half-closed blinds of the tiny tenth floor apartment, casting a faint gold pallor over the room's scant furnishings. Q
uiet classical music echoed through the room, doing little to mask the growls and thumps coming from behind the bedroom doors.
As the music slowly build into a crescendo, the distinctive sound of a round being chambered in a semi-automatic pistol undercut the rhythm. A quiet, mousy-looking brunette woman, slim and moderately attractive despite the gradual advance of age, looked down the sights of the pistol and breathed deeply. Steeling herself against the dread that seeped through her every bone, she slowly rose to her feet. As she opened the lock that held the bedroom shut, she took one last look at the letter on the table. From a few feet away, she could only barely make out the last few lines:
I'm sorry. I'm sorry for Darren, and I'm sorry for Sarah. Not just that, I'm sorry for me. I'm sorry for the whole human race. There's nothing left to do now but this one last thing. May God have mercy on me.
I'm sorry.
From the bedroom, a shot rang out. Then a second. After a long pause, and a soft sobbing that could be heard even over the music, one final shot erupted. A solid thud marked the falling of an unseen body to the ground. Slowly, steadily, a pool of crimson welled up and streamed out from under the bedroom door in dark rivulets. The apartment was silent except for the slow dirge of classical music.
***
Day 10 – 02:00:00 CST
Toronto, Ontario
The screech that pierced the night was laden with frustration and terror; a zombie slowly shambled down the street towards her. The creature had once been an athletic young man, and he probably would have been handsome if not for the fact that half of his face was missing, in its place nothing but bloodied flesh and dangling remnants of nerves. It moved with daring tenacity, shuffling towards her slowly but surely. She was unarmed, and exhausted. Her flight from the creature had left her breathless, and as it backed her into a corner, escape looked impossible.
“Get away from her, you son of a bitch!” From the shadows came a blur of fists and feet, tumbling towards the zombie with deadly intent. An older man, well into his 50's, greying but still bristling with muscles of iron, slammed into the undead creature, knocking it to the ground.
With a gurgling growl, the undead creature thrashed its head, trying desperately to gnaw at the newcomer. Its efforts were in vain, and the older man's fists slammed into the creature's head with adrenaline-backed rage. Fists as solid as granite and nearly the size of hams produced flat, wet squishing sounds, then crunches as they pulverized flesh and bone. Black-red blood splattered across his face and shirt in a gruesome rain; hot on the heels of the rain was hail – bits of skull fragments and disgustingly cold chunks of grey matter bounced against his cheeks, but the brutal assault did not stop. When he finally began to get his unbound fury under control, there wasn't much left of the zombie's skull, and his once-pale skin was stained dark red. He rose to his feet and looked at the young woman.
“Are you OK?” he asked. He was clearly short of breath, but did what he could to disguise it.
“I...I'm fine,” she whimpered. “Daddy, how did you find me?”
“It wasn't hard. I knew you'd be out here looking for that no-good son of a bitch.”
“He might still be alive! I can't just leave him to fend for himself!”
The son of a bitch that her father was talking about was her boyfriend, a young man that he'd never approved of. That she was willing to risk her life and leave the safety of their shelter for him made the man's blood boil, but he addressed her calmly.
“Darling, you know there's nobody left alive out here. Much as I can't stand the little shit, if I thought he was still alive, I'd have found him for you. This entire city is dead, except for us and your mother – and she's worried sick right now.”
“I didn't mean to worry her,” the woman said sheepishly, surprised that even in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, her mother could lay a guilt trip on her without even being physically present.
“Don't think about it now,” his gruff demeanor softened slightly. “Let's get back home, darling...before more of those things find us.”
“Of course,” she said, taking his arm in hers. He winced slightly, and on closer inspection, she could see a bloody raw mark by his elbow. “Oh, Daddy! Your arm...”
“It's nothing,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Just a scratch from one of those things that caught me off-guard. Don't worry about it.”
The walk back to their shelter was thankfully short. They had locked themselves away in the sub-basement of their old apartment building, behind several solid metal doors held with heavy locks. What had once been a set of concrete janitorial storage closets had been converted to a relatively cozy home, complete with bedrooms and a cramped bathroom (this had taken several days and no small amount of cursing on her mother's part to clean enough for them to feel comfortable using). Power had failed the previous day, and when the building's automated generator systems finally ran dry, they resorted to using candlelight. When they stepped inside, she her saw her mother fast asleep on the couch, and they quietly locked the door behind them.
“We should clean up that scratch,” she said to her father. Using the small sink in the tiny bathroom, they managed to wash away the worst of the blood and gore covering his face and arms, and she carefully cleaned and disinfected the wound with a bottle of antiseptic they'd scavenged from a first aid kit. In the guttering candlelight, she could see that his face was pale, and he was sweating profusely. “Are you sure you're OK, Daddy?”
“Yes,” he said before doubling over in pain and coughing until he spat a glob of blood-infused mucus into the sink. “Just need a rest, that's all.”
The noise of his coughing fit had woken his wife, who was now standing in the doorway of the bathroom.
“Darla,” she said quietly, “I'm glad to see you're back. Please don't ever do that again.”
“I won't, Mom,” she replied meekly.
“Your father looks like he needs to lie down for a while. He can sleep on the couch.”
“I'm fine,” he roared, bursting into another coughing fit. His face contorted in anger, and when the coughing spasm ended, his eyes were blood-red.
“You're not fine, my love,” his wife said sweetly. She took his arm and guided him out of the bathroom. “You're burning up, and sound like you're about to cough out a lung. There's no way we're going to make it to a hospital, so you'd better relax and get some sleep.”
The man didn't reply with words so much as a guttural snarl. Grasping his wife by the shoulder, he opened his mouth wide and dug his teeth into her shoulder. She screamed in pain as he tore away a mouthful of flesh. All semblance of humanity and sanity vanished from his eyes as he chewed the mouthful of skin and meat, blood dribbling down his chin and splattering the floor in heavy droplets. His grip on his wife didn't diminish, and as he swallowed the putrid mouthful, his teeth found her neck, ending her anguished screams in a gurgling rush.
His daughter tried to flee, but the door was locked. Tears streamed down her face as she was forced to listen to the ripping and tearing of flesh as her father tore into her mother's body, fingers pulling apart flesh as if it was paper, spilling entrails in a sickeningly warm pile even as her body fell to the ground. The girl collapsed into a fetal position, gently rocking back and forth, sobbing quietly.
***
Day 1 – 19:30:00 CST
Outside Vancouver, British Columbia
Thumping bass and a roaring engine carried Irwin Leighs down the road at a whopping two hundred kilometers per hour – more than double the speed limit for that stretch of highway. It was a quiet night, and there was no sign of traffic on the road, so he was finally letting loose. It had been a long week at work, dragging himself through each day with just enough energy to survive to the next. Finally he got a chance to unwind, and damned if he wasn't going to use it.
Irwin fumbled with a cigarette, delicately balancing his lighter in his fingertips so that he could hold his grip on the wheel as tightly as possible. As the cigarette light up, a clo
ud of smoke obscured his vision. He waved his hand, shooing the smoke away from his eyes too late to see someone slowly shambling across the road, limping but moving with slow deliberation. His truck slammed into the body with incredible force, the impact causing him to spin out of control and into the ditch. He reflected briefly that it would have been wise to put on his seatbelt as his body flew through the air, crashing through his windshield as if it didn't even exist, and throwing him through the night air. He landed on his head with a sickening crunch, and the world went black painlessly.
Back on the road, the limping body was slowly peeling itself off the pavement, resuming its slow, steady course with grim determination, as if it was unaware of ever having been struck.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
The Dead Rise Page 20