The soldier who helped him to his feet said, "You have the green eyes. This must not be your first trip to the Village of Dead Souls."
"Yes brother, this is my third journey to this futuristic and horrible land our descendants have created." Prometheus said as he noticed a long cylindrical iron furnace. The smoke emanating from the contraption merged with haze which continuously hung in the air.
Glancing over his shoulder, the soldier explained to the Greek man, "The humans built thousands of these emergency crematoriums. They try to burn the bodies, as fast as possible to keep them from returning as one of us. I don't know if it really matters anymore. Their numbers are not as great as they were a few years ago. We outnumber them in significant proportions."
Taking in the devastating world around him, the Athenian asked, "I wonder how long I've been gone this time?"
"What is the last thing you remember before your journey almost ended?"
"I was in the basement of what the descendants called a train station. I believe this is where I met my temporary demise."
"There hasn't been a train station around here for years." He glanced to his right and said, "Here's our commander. She's been here for a long time. Maybe she can help determine how long you’ve have been gone."
A tall woman, with long brown hair, a shapely athletic build, wearing a military jacket, and an old decayed bullet wound in her chest, walked up to the two dead men. She placed her sawed off shotgun in the holster, strapped across her back, and asked, "Who's the green eyes?"
The soldier with holes in his chest, replied, "I didn't get his name."
Bowing to the dead woman, the Athenian said, "Greetings my name is Prometheus and I-"
The woman cut him off. "You hail from ancient Greece. Yeah, I remember you."
"You have the advantage of remembering me, but may I get-"
Again, she interrupted. "I'm Hellion. Welcome back. It's been a while since I've heard your name mentioned. You'll find this world is much different now from the one you remember." Her eyes focused on something in the far distance. "We're on our way to take down a meat lab. Stick with me and I'll eventually get you back to your clan."
Several blocks later, they came to three olive green inflated Quonset huts. Undead grouped around the fallen soldiers who recently guarded the buildings and feasted on their bodies pulling out organs and flesh like a pack of hyenas. Another soldier, with a large hole punctured through the left side of his chest, walked up to Hellion. "Those two buildings are empty, just some tables and chairs." He pointed to the closest hut. "We heard some human moaning in this one, and formed a perimeter around it just like you instructed."
"Gather units blue and red to storm the place. Let's see what the humans were so intent on protecting."
The soldier waved his arm to signal five other dead soldiers to follow him. With a small explosion, blowing the metal door down, they ran inside through the small wall of smoke. Hellion motioned her hand for Prometheus to follow her.
Inside the dark building, she pulled out a flashlight. The beam gave glimpses of a makeshift laboratory. Metal autopsy tables with the carved up remains of former zombies, microscopes, Bunsen burners, and a few vertical glass coolers filled the room. At the far end, her soldiers had surrounded a human woman with shoulder length blonde hair. She wore a white lab coat and held in front of her the nozzle end of a flamethrower keeping her attackers away. She continued to yell out in her strange moans as a clear signal to stay back. Behind the lady scientist, stood five narrow cages, each with a single naked motionless zombie. Hellion said, "It's been a while since we captured a meat lab still in operation."
One of her soldiers asked, "What should we do?"
"Kill her and see if any those bodies still have a soul inside."
"But if we move closer, she's going to burn us."
Hellion pulled a knife from a sheath on her hip and threw it like a fastball. It landed right in the scientist's chest, causing her to release the flamethrower. She dropped to her knees, still babbling out long sentences of her untranslatable language. As blood oozed out from between her fingers, she pointed to Prometheus. Her eyes opened wide with a look of surprise on her face, giving the impression she recognized his body. She let out a few more groans and fell dead to the floor, as blood poured from her wound, and flowed across the ground.
The soldier with two holes in his chest stood near the cages. While poking at one of the bodies, he said, "It looks like these are all empty."
"Use that flamethrower to burn the bodies. This scientist lady probably injected them with the anti-virus. We don't want any of ours to come along and feed on them."
From the cage at the far end came a weak voice. "I'm not dead."
Turning her flashlight to the dark corner, they saw a naked dead woman holding the bars of her cage and staring back. She had long dark hair and smooth white skin, which showed almost no decay, except for the dried bullet hole in her chest over her heart. Hellion grabbed a set of keys from the dead scientist's pocket and tossed them to a soldier. "Let our sister out of the squirrel cage."
With the door open, the nude woman quickly stepped over to the dead scientist, pulled her lab coat off and slipped it on herself. As she buttoned the center button, she kicked the dead woman's body in the stomach. "How do you like that, bitch? I'm wearing your jacket. I bet that pisses you off." She reached over, grabbed a small bell from the nearby table, and rang it. "It's time for your medicine," she said, as she again kicked the dead woman in the stomach. Ringing the bell a second time, she yelled, "Pay attention. Your friends are going experience intense pain for the first time in years as they slowly die."
"I'm guessing it was bad." Hellion said, as she watched the lady continuously kick the dead woman.
The undead lady stopped her beating and tugged at her coat to straighten it out. "I've been in that cage for years. Watching her torture the other re-ans and waiting for the day it would be my turn. I must have been her control subject." She spit on the dead scientist. "Either that, or she had a crush on me."
"You referred to us as re-ans, so I'm guessing that you must be a modern."
Prometheus stepped forward and said, "Greetings. What is your name and from-"
Hellion pressed the palm of her hand into the Athenian's face cutting him off and pushing him back. She said, "I'm Hellion. I'm the leader of this rebel unit."
The lab coat lady finger combed her hair back and said, "I've heard of you. Some of my cellmates said they had fought with you. Name's Janel, but my friends call me Salsa."
"Salsa?"
"Yeah, that's my nickname. It went with my profession."
Hellion squinted her left eye and replied, "And that profession was?"
Salsa scanned the room and saw all the soldiers staring at her. "Pole dancer." She gave a quick glance to her figure. "I had a nice body before, but this one is smoking hot. I could have made so much more money with this bod."
As smiles crossed the faces of the undead men, Prometheus asked, "What is a pole dancer?"
Hellion replied, "I'll explain later."
Outside the building, the orange sky had turned black with smoke, blocking out the moon. Random rubble fires provided the only light. Hellion stood next to her two new arrivals as they watched the undead wandering aimlessly through the ruins of the city. Salsa mentioned, "Things sure have changed since I last stood outdoors. What city is this?"
Hellion replied, "It used to be Denver."
Another soldier with more holes in his chest, walked up to her and said, "We have some believers approaching."
"Great, a sermon right is just what I need now."
Prometheus turned and saw a small group of undead walking toward them. A smile came to his face as he recognized them. "Captain Bartholomew, the fair lady Patricia and the good Egyptian Nemi."
The pirate captain, now sporting an eye patch, stopped a few feet away and said, "Madam Hellion, We be hearing you captured a meat lab. Did ya be finding anyone?"
Hellion motioned her head toward Salsa. "This chick was one of their test rats." She placed her hand on Prometheus' back. "Green eyes here happens to be one of your lost puppies. I think you'll want him back."
Patricia stepped close to the young soldier's body and studied his eyes. "No. It can't be." She gave him a hug. "Brother Prometheus. It has been three long years since we have seen you last."
"Blimey, just when I thought there be nothing about dis world dat would surprise me. The Greek man be coming back again."
"Are you the pirate captains that I've heard about?" Salsa asked.
"Aye, we be the only pirates in these parts."
She faced Hellion. "I'm grateful and indebted to you for rescuing me, but I really want to hang with these guys for a while. I guess, I'm leaning more toward their cause than yours."
Hellion motioned her head toward the pirate captain. "Go ahead. You will not be much of a soldier if you don't want to be here."
As Prometheus and Salsa walked away with the pirates, he mentioned, "This world has changed rather dramatically since I last walked this ground."
Patricia replied, "Yes, the descendant's numbers have decreased to the point their society has collapsed. When we last spoke, it was a civil war between the living and the dead. The war evolved into a true apocalypse of the dead. As one of those walking dead, I fear for what may become of this world."
Bartholomew continued, "Even our clan be having nightly debates about us continuing to collect the strings of life. There be so few living left, we don't know if we can save them anymore."
Prometheus asked, "Why do you continue this war if it is killing those we intend to save?"
"We be not killing da living as fast as the plague."
"What plague?"
Salsa joined in the conversation. "It's called the Omega virus. It began spreading around the globe back at the start of this re-an uprising. Nobody paid attention to it at first. Bodies rising from the dead got more attention than a few people coughing up blood did. Once the health community realized what they had on their hands, there were not enough scientists and labs left to find a cure. A few years back when I died, the virus was killing more people than the re-ans."
Prometheus glanced toward the lady pirate. "The fair Patricia. Do you not carry the gift of a remedy for this plague?"
"Yes, this is my job to pass a cure for the Omega plague on to our descendants. Unfortunately, we still have no idea how to pass this to them, and they are still intent on wiping, us from the surface of this planet."
* * *
Daniel Cronsworth placed another lit candle under the little iron boiler of a miniature tabletop model steam engine. The heated gas from the tank shot through narrow twisted copper tubes into the cylinder, which pushed the piston back and forth. The piston turned a wheel connected to a small generator with wires running to a single light bulb. The dim yellow light flickered across the map spread out on a piece of scrap plywood, set atop a few cinderblocks. Several men in the civilian militia stood around the makeshift table and studied the parchment.
John Colton placed himself on the opposite side of the map. He wore a tattered brown canvas jacket covered with splattered blood and burn marks. Underneath the coat, his black shirt no longer showed signs it was once a police officer uniform. He asked, "How are we doing on fuel for the flamethrower?"
"We're down to one tank."
"Shotgun shells?"
"We have ten. Six are reloads with gravel."
Colton rubbed his chin and replied, "Let's save those in case we are overrun. We'll make axes and blades our primary weapons." He glanced over at the doctor. "Daniel, how's our food rations?"
"We're low on bread and dried fruits. There's thirty cases of canned beans and eight pounds of dried noodles. The military gave us twenty pounds of rice, but we gave half of that to a caravan of folks headed to the coast in exchange for fixing our main generator."
"It looks like we'll be eating a lot of beans for a while. How's the greenhouse looking? What about the fresh vegetables?"
"We have guards posted night and day at the greenhouse. So far, there hasn't been any trouble, but it's pretty well hidden. The corn, tomatoes, green beans, squash and spinach are all starting to grow. If we can keep the boiler running, they should be ready for harvest in two months. We're working on making a trade with the Boulder militia for some watermelon seeds."
"What about the horses? How are they doing?"
"The horses are doing fine. They are grazing out in the fields and drinking from the river. They have it better than us."
Colton brought his attention back to the map. "Okay, I talked to East Arapahoe and they gave me the details of the offensive tomorrow. Every remaining civilian militia in North America, combined with local military units is going to launch a blitz on all re-an tribes within reach. It's our version of a zombie Tet Offensive. We've been assigned to move on the Lodo tribe around the old Union Station." He pointed to the spot on the map. "The regular soldiers are going to lead the show. We're going to hang back and cover their flanks."
Daniel asked, "When do we move?"
"The re-ans are more active at night. If we hit them right around dusk, we can catch them at the time they are most vulnerable."
* * *
Standing on the second and highest floor in the skeletal remains of what used to be a skyscraper, Colton raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes. A quarter mile away, he saw the thirty to forty re-ans staggering aimlessly around the scattered rubble. The walking partially decomposed corpses wore ragged and torn clothes, which covered their gray rotted skin. Mixed among them, undead coyotes sniffed the ground in their search for something living. A hundred yards away, sixty soldiers hid behind piles of shattered concrete, burnt out tanks, and inside blast craters waiting for their orders to attack. Between them and the living dead, lay an open field of dirt, which once used to be the heart of the downtown nightclub district.
Colton lowered the field glasses and quietly said to Daniel, "The regulars are in place. Those walking meat bags are going get mowed down before they get the chance to drool on themselves."
One of the soldiers closest to the open field, waved his hand to the men next to him, signaling it was time for them move. All ten men sprang up, jumped over the dirt mound in front of them and ran across the field with shotguns in-hand. The re-ans didn't react. They only continued their directionless wandering.
Remaining in tight formation, the ten soldiers closed to within thirty yards and raised their shotguns to their shoulders. Around twenty-five yards, the ground beneath them gave way and they all fell into a deep concealed pit. Three foot long, sharpened wooden spikes, five inches in diameter, lined the entire bottom of the hole. The soldiers all became impaled as the several stilettos pierced through their bodies and killed them instantly.
The aimless walking of the re-ans turned into a coordinated charge toward the second wave of soldiers who carried flamethrowers and laid down a wall of flames. Through the wall of fire, burning zombies staggered toward the soldiers, grabbing them in a death hug, which spread the fire causing their fuel tanks to explode.
Attacking from both flanks, the remaining soldiers moved in launching grenades into the center of the battle. The explosions tore re-ans apart, but the upper portions of their decomposed bodies continued to crawl and roll toward their enemy.
Hundreds of re-ans emerged from the sewers, dark shadows of building ruins, and the side streets. They had all the regulars surrounded and closed in the circle. Daniel asked, "Do we move now?"
Colton raised his hand and yelled, "We need to get down there and clear a hole in this wave of re-ans so the regulars can pull back." Throwing his arm forward, he said, "Let's go!"
The former police officer led the charge with Daniel and the other men close behind. Coming in contact with the first wave of zombies, they quickly swung their modified axes with serrated blades, and makeshift swords made from scrap metal, and they sliced the heads
, arms, and legs off the undead.
They opened a small clearing in the rear wave of zombies as hundreds more continued to pour in from below ground and the dark corners of the crumbled buildings. One of the regular soldiers called out, "Pull back!" and they made their way through the small opening as it closed tighter. Several of the soldiers, who were killed in the pit, crawled out with glassy eyes and staggered around in a confused state. Several of the wounded soldiers tried to crawl toward safety, but the dead coyotes pounced on them, finishing the job.
Colton helped the last soldier through the opening and gave a quick scan to see if there were any more men alive in the midst of the horde. He turned back toward his retreating men and stepped on a hidden bear leg spring trap. The steel contraption clamped down on his lower shin, shattering his bones as the large sharp teeth dug in deep. He fell to the ground and heard the crack and crunch of his ankle. Looking down on the trap, he saw his foot turned backwards pointing the opposite way of his knee.
Trying to pry the vise open, he only managed to cut up his fingers and hands. A quick glance at his men, and he saw them all with their backs turned, still retreating to safe ground. Turning back to his mangled foot, he saw a pair of leather boots standing next to the trap. Slowly, his eyes followed up the legs inside those boots, until he saw a tall female re-an wearing a tattered camouflage jacket, with a sawed off shotgun strapped to her back. Her stringy long brown hair hung down to her shoulder and helped hide her sickly gray skin. Parts of her jawbone were visible through the open decayed holes in the side of her face.
Colton knew he was done. He lay back on the ground and watched the dead woman pull her weapon off her back. She pointed the barrel directly at his face and held it inches away.
The former police officer thought about the time he came home with a new puppy. His five-year-old son came running out the front door of their house with a smile spread from ear to ear. His wife stood on the porch, with her arms crossed in front of her, watching their son grasp the little dog under a clear blue sky. The air smelled like fresh cut grass. His son rolled on the lawn, as the puppy licked his face. As he turned toward his wife, all went silent and black.
The Village of Dead Souls: A Zombie Novel Page 17