by J. J. Fowler
* * *
They reached the summit of the first series of mountains in short order, leaving behind the urban ruins they traversed through for most of the mission so far. Drake and his men had never seen a mountain before. While the Dead Mountains were really nothing more than glorified hills, they nevertheless paused to examine this new geological sight before them.
Mifune was not impressed. “They look tiny.”
Drake agreed.
“I never thought I would ever see the Dead Mountains,” Murphy said in awe. He found the rounded tops of the mountains fascinating, along with their close proximity to one another. They reminded him of giant waves flowing across the horizon.
“Looks like you didn’t miss much,” Casey replied with a snicker.
Francis scratched his crotch and declared, “Bunch of pussy mountains. This won’t be hard to get through.”
“It will be if there’s a couple hundred thousand zombies waiting for us,” said Drake as he lit a cigarette. “Let’s move in single file and keep it quiet. Vlad, you want point?”
Vlad didn’t hear Drake. He was peering into the pitch-black range. It was daytime in the Longest Midnight, which made the horizon dark grey. The Dead Mountains stood out like rounded silhouettes of crumbling headstones. He always found this sight serene and humbling.
“Vlad?”
Vlad turned to Drake.
“You got point?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s move out then. Casey, take the rear.”
“Why the fuck do I always have to get the rear?”
“Because you’re a faggot,” Drake said. The men, except for Mifune and the two vampires, laughed. Mifune was no fan of the widespread homophobia in the Army, and the vampires didn’t understand the joke. Drake quickly shushed the men. Within a couple of minutes, they were moving toward the mountain range in orderly fashion.
Chapter Nineteen
They marched several long, arduous kilometers through the Dead Mountains without encountering much beyond the stray deader here or there. Drake felt it was time to rest. He had point and raised his arm for the others to stop, and then gestured for them to come to him.
“We rest here at the summit of this mountain.”
“Why here?” Mifune said.
“Why not?”
“The captain is correct,” interjected Vlad. “It is best to rest at the base of one of these small mountains. To rest on a mountain would leave us at a disadvantage in the event of an attack.”
Mifune shrugged his shoulders and walked away. The others filed out quickly and began to set up camp.
Vlad and Drake stood together. “Is your sergeant okay?” Vlad inquired.
“Why?”
“He acts odd.”
“How would you know what’s odd for him?”
“I can sense strange human behavior. Is it the presence of Chosin and myself?”
“Maybe.”
“He does not trust us.”
“Should he?”
Vlad showed his fangs in annoyance and said, “If we are to succeed in this endeavor, we must at least trust each other’s word. I have not tried to deceive anyone.”
Drake lit a cigarette. “Fine, let’s trust each other.”
“Your sarcasm is unhelpful. You know I am in earnest.”
“All right, Vlad. I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Appreciated, Captain.”
Murphy ran up to Vlad and Drake gasping for air and said, “Sir, you need to see this.”
“Calm down, Murph,” Drake said as he took a drag. “What’d you see out there?”
“People. Real people.”
* * *
Drake scanned the human settlement in the small valley using his night-vision binoculars. It didn’t look appealing. Heaps of trash were strewn randomly throughout the camp; large tents were covered in dirt; and a few old banged-up vans served as housing. A perimeter fence made from a mish-mash of metal debris, flimsy-looking wood, and tires completed the dismal scene. The people below them could scarcely survive even a moderate zombie attack, Drake surmised.
“Nomads,” said Drake contemptuously. “Pure human garbage.” Drake handed his binoculars to Vlad, who in turn nodded his head slightly as he studied the camp.
Vlad said, “They may know of the zombie camp.”
“Doubtful. They’re largely useless. Bunch of fucking cowards who run instead of fight. I hate ‘em worse than the deaders.”
“I don’t suggest making contact with them then,” Vlad replied. “I doubt such people would welcome us.”
“Agreed.”
Murphy felt altogether differently and could barely contain his excitement.
“But sir, they’re alive! They may know where the deader camp is.”
“Keep it down, Murph. Decision made. We move now.”
* * *
Drake, hoping to avoid detection, ordered they descend on the opposite side of the mountain from where the nomads resided. He led the way down the small mountain with Casey bringing up the rear. Apart from the vampires, all the men, even Mifune, believed it best to make contact with the nomads, but none of them dared voice protests to Drake.
The team reached the bottom without any complications, and Drake sat down on a large boulder to relax. The other men followed suit, except for the two vampires, both of who stood cautiously examining their surroundings.
Vlad appeared concerned. “Captain, I suggest we move on. They have patrols.”
Drake took a drag on his smoke.
“And how would you know that?”
A powerful boom abruptly echoed around them. Nearly instantaneously, an electrified net enveloped Vlad. Electric shocks tore into his ancient flesh and he collapsed onto the ground squirming and screaming. Moments later, another net wrapped around Chosin with the same results. Before Drake or any of the other men had time to react, they were surrounded by twenty heavily armed nomads.
“Goddamn nomads,” Drake barely whispered, and then spat his cigarette out at them.
Chapter Twenty
Drake’s team was led into the nomad’s camp. The two vampires were dragged along unconscious behind them. Inside the camp, conditions were even more squalid than from a distance. People covered in filth were dressed in rags. Emaciated and half-naked children stared at them. Most shockingly to the captive soldiers, the camp’s odor was even more nauseating than Alpha’s. Decaying carcasses of pigs mixed with the stench from open trenches where people defecated and urinated to create a stink so foul it reduced Murphy to vomiting. It was, to say the least, a hellish place, rife with disease and hopelessness. It was worse than Drake or any of the men could’ve possibly imagined.
Mifune gently patted Murphy on the back to help him finish chucking. The group was led to a large tent in the center of the camp. A physically fit, clean-shaven, healthy-looking, middle-aged man with neatly trimmed hair emerged. In contrast to the others, he wore a clean, green and white robe, and had gold rings on all his fingers. It was obvious to Drake this man was the leader of the camp.
Drake lit a cigarette as he sized up the nomad’s leader. He figured he must’ve convinced the others in the camp he was some sort of messiah who would lead them away from the darkness of the world. In reality, it was clear the guy was another lunatic cultist on a power trip. He’d seen his type before—they didn’t last long.
“My name is Savini,” the man said to his prisoners. He eyed Drake. “I assume you’re the commander of this group?”
“You assume correctly,” Drake replied.
“What are you doing in this region?”
Drake said nothing. He took a deep drag of his smoke and then flicked it to the ground by Savini’s feet.
“What, more importantly, are you doing with them?” Savini pointed to Vlad and Chosin, both of whom were still unconscious and wrapped in electric nets.
Again, no response from Drake. The others remained silent as well.
“You soldiers have driven
our people further and further into the wilderness, where we battle for food, fight disease, battle demon walkers, and where we battle them!”
One of the guards kicked Chosin in the face. The vampire’s eyes wearily opened. He realized instantly the gravity of the situation he and the others faced, yet could do nothing.
“They fed off our people, our weak, our sick, and our suffering. They return again and again, more so than the demon walkers, to feast upon our blood. You and your men shall pay for your unholy alliance with these devils and for the crimes your soldiers have committed against us.”
Murphy took several steps forward and pleaded, “Wait! We’re not the enemy. We’re human! They’re trying to…” Murphy was silenced as Francis jerked him back into line.
“Shut it, Murph,” Francis whispered. “It ain’t gonna help.”
Savini continued, “You are all to be executed. Get them out of here.”
As the men were led away, Casey extended his middle finger toward Savini. Savini frowned. “And have that man raped,” he said, pointing at Casey.
“What the fuck?” Casey said incredulously.
A guard smashed Casey in the stomach with his rifle butt and two others led him away.
Mifune wanted to come to Casey’s aid, but Drake grabbed his arm and shook his head. “Sir, they’re going to rape him.”
“I know.”
“Are we to do nothing?”
“Right now, yes.”
Mifune exhaled impotently.
* * *
The four soldiers were tied to separate stakes on a small hill not far from the center of the camp. A large and predominantly silent crowd gathered to watch the execution of Drake, Murphy, Mifune, and Francis. Over the murmurings of the crowd were the screams of pain as Casey was brutally sodomized.
Murphy appeared positively despondent and complained to Mifune it was insane for Savini to call for their executions.
“We have killed loads of these nomads in the past,” Mifune replied. “We’re supposed to kill them on site in case of infection.”
“Why would we kill our own people?”
“Calling these people human is stretching it a bit, don’t you think?” Mifune replied. Mifune nodded his head toward the crowd dressed in rags and covered in mud and shit. “Look at them. They live like animals. They’re barely a step above those damn deaders out there.”
“I guess they get the last laugh,” Murphy said with a sigh.
Mifune chuckled and said, “Yup, but this camp will be eradicated one way or the other.”
Savini pushed his way through the crowd, wearing an astonishingly clean black suit and matching tie. He walked up to the four men and grinned maliciously.
“Anyone want to go first?”
“Fuck you,” said Francis.
“We have our first volunteer,” retorted Savini. Savini turned toward the crowd and took out a scrubby piece of paper. “I know, my friends, that you need not hear the reasons for the executions of these butchers and allies of the blood suckers, but since we are a civilized people, I feel it is my solemn duty to inform the prisoners of why they are to be executed.”
Drake spat on the ground near Savini’s feet. He glanced at the captain contemptuously and whispered, “Our second volunteer.” Then Savini cleared his throat and listed the ostensible crimes of Drake and his men in a loud and baroque voice: “You raped our women, murdered our children, hunted us, consider us less than human, never aided us…” Savini chimed off another dozen or so charges before finishing his rant. He then carefully folded up the piece of paper he read from and put it back into his pocket.
Savini said toward an adjacent tent, “All right, Bob, proceed.” Drake and the others gazed toward the tent in anxiety and trepidation. For several long, agonizing moments, no one emerged.
Francis lost patience. “Will you hurry it the fuck up?” he yelled.
Savini stood emotionless, gazing at his flock, and ignoring Francis’s comment. The crowd, in turn, was eerily silent, as if anticipating a monster from within the tent.
“Where are the vampires?” Murphy said quietly to Mifune.
“Don’t know. Last I saw they were in a cage.”
At last, a tent flap folded over, and a giant, grotesquely obese man with deep sunken eyes and a missing right ear emerged. His only clothing was tattered, red pants. His hairy chest was covered in a variety of tattoos. In his right hand, he held a machete stained with blood. The hideous man smiled diabolically.
Only now did Savini turn his head away from his people and to his executioner.
“Proceed, Bob. Kill this one first.” He pointed to Francis.
Francis’ defiance quickly faded after seeing Bob’s enormous frame approach him.
Francis could smell Bob’s rancid breath even before the giant man towered before him. Bob stopped and grinned at Francis. He raised his machete and pointed it with the blade upside down toward Francis’ navel.
“Do it,” Francis said with a scowl.
Bob nodded and then pushed a few inches of the blade inside Francis. Francis bit his tongue and refused to scream, denying Savini and Bob the satisfaction of watching him holler in agony. The blade went in deeper. The pain was worse than anything Francis had ever felt. Tears streamed out of his eyes. His breathing increased rapidly; his tied hands trembled; and his legs squirmed, but Francis remained silent. In fact, the entire camp was deadly quiet as they watched Bob carry out the execution. Bob sawed upward toward Francis’ sternum causing his victim’s intestines to fall out along with copious amounts of blood. Finally, Francis could take the pain no longer. He yelled in a high-pitched voice, which echoed throughout the camp.
Francis’s comrades looked away except for Drake, who was right next to Francis. A screaming Francis locked eyes with Drake as he shook violently from the machete tearing through his abdomen. Drake’s eyes calmed Francis, and the horrific yelling ceased. Then Bob pulled the machete out and put one of his fat, hairy hands inside Francis. Francis gurgled. Blood streamed out of his mouth, but he continued to stare at Drake. Then his eyes opened wide in terror. A moment later, they became glassy and lifeless as Francis departed this miserable world.
Drake closed his eyes.
Bob cackled and pulled out Francis’ heart. He turned toward the crowd and placed Francis’ heart in Savini’s eager hand. Savini raised it above his head and bellowed, “Justice!” The crowd roared in approval.
Savini handed the heart back to Bob and nodded his head. Bob took a large bite out of the bloodied heart and chewed happily. Drake’s men watched the macabre spectacle unfolding before their stunned eyes in utter shock.
“This cannot be real,” Murphy said to Mifune.
Tears formed in Mifune’s eyes. He witnessed many of his men die, but never like this, and never at the hands of other humans. It was more than he could bear.
“Mifune, any ideas?” Drake whispered as he watched Bob continue to dine on Francis’ heart.
Mifune was too broken up to respond.
“Get it together, Sergeant. Any ideas?”
Mifune glowered at Drake and furiously yelled at him, “If you hadn’t gotten together with those fucking vampires and agreed to Vlad’s insane shortcut through the Dead Mountains, Francis would be alive right now! You have killed us all!”
Drake shook his head and said, “You’re out of line, Sergeant.”
“Like it matters. We’re dead anyway!”
Murphy interjected, “Stop it! Arguing isn’t helping anything.”
Bob finished eating Francis’s heart, wiped the blood off his mouth with the back of his wrist, and cocked his head toward Drake. The captain grinned contemptuously at Bob and his bloodied, disfigured face.
“My heart don’t taste good,” Drake sneered at Bob.
Bob chuckled and moved toward Drake unhurriedly.
“It’s not your heart I want,” the fat man said loudly. “It’s your brain.”
“Well, I ain’t got one of those, or els
e I wouldn’t be here right now. Would I?”
Savini chortled and replied, “This one has spirit. Bob, take you time as you saw through his skull. I want to enjoy watching him squirm.”
Bob grabbed the back of Drake’s head and placed his machete against his temple. Drake knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to get out of this situation. His hands were tied, his feet bound, and Bob’s giant hand clutched his head. Drake drew in a deep breath and tried to think of a way to delay the inevitable. He thought of one. “Can I have a last smoke, Bob?”
Bob smiled, displaying his stained green teeth and breathing his foul breath on Drake’s face. Drake coughed. “On second thought, no cigarette.”
“No more delays,” Savini barked. “Kill him!”
Bob grunted an affirmative. As he lined the saw up with Drake’s temple, a bullet screamed through the air, tore through the back of Bob’s head, and exited through his face, splashing blood and brain matter on Drake’s face. Bob stood there momentarily, eyes bulging, mouth twisting in a grotesque smile, his tongue protruding from his mouth. Slowly, he crumpled to the ground.
Savini looked around in confusion and bellowed, “What is this outrage?” The crowd failed to respond. Savini stalked back and forth like an enraged lion looking for something, anything to tear apart.
Then he heard it. They all heard it. It was a deep moaning sound echoing from a distance. Moaning sounds the nomads and Drake and his men were all too familiar with—an approaching zombie army.
A man pushed his way through the nervous crowd and kneeled before Savini. “Sir, an army of the beasts approaches!” Savini, along with every other person in the crowd, knew this before the frightened man opened his mouth.
The moaning sounds got closer. “Order the machine guns to open fire when within range,” Savini ordered the man.
“Yes, sir,” the man said, and pushed his way through the crowd.
Savini glanced angrily at Drake. “Looks like you’ll be living a bit longer.”