Finn stiffened and released me from the hug, leaning against the stone wall and staring ahead. “My world isn’t like yours. Part of my job is keeping the slaves in line, bringing them to the king when he asks. They don’t always go willingly.” Finn ran his hand over his face, the weight of too many worlds crushing him down. “Sometimes I think Banak likes it better when they put up a fight.”
I hung my head. “Ah, jeez. I’m not your slave. Banak didn’t order you to hit me. You did that on your own. Quit blaming your curse for everything.”
“You shouldn’t talk back to me.”
“You’re deeper than this. Why do you try so hard not to have a conscience? Just because Banak owns your will doesn’t mean he should get all of you.”
“A conscience does no good on the battlefield. I’ve buried many men with that little voice inside that tells them not to do what they know they have to if they want to survive.” He motioned behind us out where the horsemen were readying themselves to stand against the marching zombies. “It’s win or die out here. Who knows? Maybe after you set things right, I’ll be able to afford a conscience again.”
“I don’t think it works like that.” I let out a heavy sigh as too many conflicting brands of ethics tumbled around inside of me.
“You don’t understand. I’ve seen your house. You’re not starving like these people are.”
“I learned enough about being hungry when I was a child.” I forgot how little Finn actually knew about me. “Look, I get being desperate and how that messes with your conscience. But Finn? Out there you weren’t desperate, and you hauled off and hit me. There’s a difference between doing what you have to and letting the darkness take over. Who knows how long you’ve been on autopilot. I bet Banak doesn’t even have to give you orders anymore, or force you to obey him. You just do it on your own. You’re the tyrant now.” I paused when he linked his fingers through mine, stopping the shredding I was doing to my skin. I hadn’t even noticed until he intervened. “It’s time you started thinking again. The land will be healed soon, and all you’ll be is the darkness because you’re letting it make the decisions for you.”
Finn squeezed my hand when I tried to pull it out of his. There were too many germs. “Stop hurting yourself. You’re bleeding.”
I looked up at him, not holding back my disappointment or sadness that this was what lay behind the curtain of the mysterious man. “You first. Stop hurting yourself. Stop hurting me.”
Finn traced his thumb from my temple to my chin, giving me the shivers when I was trying to actually have a real conversation. His gaze lowered to my lips, and I felt butterflies tumbling around where a strict order or vomit should’ve been. Finn’s mouth curled into a tender smile. “It just figures. The one time I really want to kiss someone, that pesky conscience resurrects itself and starts yammering in my ear.”
My eyes widened and I turned my head to stare forward, my cheeks turning that traitor shade of pink. “Well, listen to the cricket on your shoulder, dude. You don’t want me; I can promise you that right now. You’re just confused.”
Finn stiffened. “So you’re the authority on my conscience and what I want?”
I didn’t hesitate with a response. “Yup. My black eye says you don’t have a hold on your conscience enough to make good decisions yet. You can’t hit me and kiss me all in the same day. How low do you think my self-esteem is? If you actually gave a crap about me, you would want more for me than a guy who knocks me around.”
Finn swore loudly, making me jump. “That was a better point than I thought you’d make.”
“Trust me. You don’t want me.”
“Can’t argue with logic like that.” His hand found its way to my back and started lightly scratching in circles to relax me. We listened to the pounding footsteps come nearer until something else took over. A different sound, sort of like a waterfall, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly what. “What is that?” Finn asked, craning his ear in the windowless room.
I listened closer, my heart picking up and my spirits beginning to lift. “Finn? I think it might be raining.”
10
Bruce Campbell, Where are You?
Our heads snapped to look at each other before we scrambled to our feet. Our camping gear was thrown on the floor and Finn’s sword was drawn. He slowly opened the heavy wooden door that creaked too loud for my liking. I walked on tiptoe behind Finn as I clutched the backpack with the stone in it. The rain was louder now, and despite our trepidation that zombies might be around every corner, we both gasped and ran to the nearest window cutout that overlooked the main village. The view let us see out to where the zombie army was still marching – their footsteps drowned out by the blissful sound of the rain. There were thousands of them, each dressed in black tunics and matching cinched pants with black boots that looked the right amount of no-joke. There was a man in white in the lead, and I guessed he was the commander, but didn’t look impressive or big enough to be Sama himself. I reminded myself that Sama was sequestered to his island of solitude, and all this mayhem was controlled by Sama’s spirit that he sent out to mind-warp the undead to do his bidding.
I don’t know what I expected to see, but I wanted more detail through the rain that every minute seemed to fall heavier than the minute before. The gray zombie faces were obscured, even when I squinted to see how close the B horror movie directors had gotten to the truth. Ollie would’ve been floored at seeing a real, live zombie. I tried to take as many mental pictures as I could, blurred by the elements as they were.
The hard, dry ground didn’t know what to do with itself, but it started by soaking up as much of the water as it could. The brown earth guzzled with its cracks and crevices to greedily gulp for more and still more. Kabayo’s soldiers all wore grins beneath their elongated helmets that were fitted to their horse heads. No matter how the battle ended, Silo had been restored to them. Though I could tell we were outnumbered two to one, Kabayo’s men looked ready for the fight, hungry for nothing but more rain and some fresh zombie guts.
Finn pulled me from the window, moving me to the right so I couldn’t see the zombie army, and they sure as Sunday couldn’t see me. He pointed to the sky, his jaw dropped open in shock. My gaze followed to whatever it was that stupefied him, and I saw the gray clouds beginning to gather in a swirl that looked like the beginnings of a cyclone in the sky. It was wider and flatter than a tornado, and it seemed to spin like a slow-moving record with ominous purpose. “What the flip is that?” I asked, my nose scrunched as I squinted at the sky.
“It’s the Ganado. The centaurs are coming! They’re going to fight with Kabayo!” Finn clutched me with excitement that was laced with fear. “They’ll kill anything that isn’t clearly on the side of Silo, and I don’t want them guessing at our loyalties. We have to get to Kabayo right now, or we could be targeted.”
“Wait, what? You want me to go down into the battle with the stone?”
“We have to, or we’re as good as dead. Hide the stone in here and let’s go.” He brought me over to a trunk in the corner of the room we’d just vacated, and shut it after I placed the national treasure and our packs inside. “I’m from Dagat, and you’re a Topsider. We look nothing like the Tikbalangs. Hurry! They’re coming!” Finn grabbed my empty arms and spun me around toward the staircase, racing down the circular winding stone steps like we were running from a fire. I followed, hoping I didn’t trip, and that Finn knew what he was doing.
We were four stories up, and almost to the bottom when Kabayo met us at the front gate, breathless with anticipation. “I was just coming to get you! Stand by me, no matter what. We can’t have the Ganado going after you two. Hurry! They’re almost here!”
I bolted outside, stopping short when the fat raindrops pelted me so hard, I checked my arms for welts. I could barely see, but Finn stayed with me. He slowed his steps to match mine as we ran after Kabayo out through the gate where nearly a thousand horsemen were gathered in two tight rows. They stood bet
ween their capitol and Sama’s encroaching army, muscles tensed and maws bent into thrilled grins that rallied my spirits.
Finn was in his element, standing near the ranks, sword drawn as he waved down four men with gills. I guessed they were in Silo already as the gesture of goodwill, doling out water to the thirsty on his orders. They came running toward him, saluting and offering up words of pledge to whatever end Finn ordered them. “We fight with King Kabayo tonight.” Then Finn raised his voice. “Let it be known that Dagat didn’t run when Sama attacked Silo! We stand with you tonight as brothers!” This was met by a few salutes and cheers from horsemen in well-fitted brass armor.
Finn met the eyes of his kin as he gripped my shoulder. “This is the new Omen, and I want you to protect her with your lives. The whole of Terraway’s survival depends on her.” The men gaped at me for a few seconds with awe and confusion, and then nodded at their commander. Finn kept me tight to his side, and then inched in front of me, readying to impale and gut as needed. Not that we could see more than a few feet in front of us.
Kabayo took the lead, stomping back and forth along the row. He shouted for the men to hold their ground, and not to fight until the Ganado came out first. The zombie army was marching steadily, and soon a battle would be inevitable, whether or not the centaurs made an appearance.
My heart sank as I felt the ground tremble beneath my feet. The zombies weren’t waiting for the centaurs to come down and fight; the commander in white was smarter than that. Suddenly I found myself smack in the middle of a war, seconds away from any number of swords deciding my fate. I didn’t know if I’d see Ollie again. I didn’t know if I would live to see if there would be yet more episodes of Star Wars that would come out in my lifetime. I didn’t know if Darius would ever get out of his brother’s illegal empire. I didn’t know if Allie would ever come back to us.
I didn’t know what to do; I’d never been in a battle before, much less unarmed. As if reading my mind, Finn turned and gripped my hand. “Behind the gates with you. Don’t come out for anything. That’ll be near enough so the Ganado don’t come after you, but hopefully not so near that you’ll see any action from the battle.” He ran with me through the gate and positioned my back against the stone wall that separated the inner city from the battle. I gulped as the rain poked me all over, washing away the dirt and heat.
Finn reached down and pulled out an oversized switchblade knife from his belt. When he flicked it open, the wide janky and jagged blade was nearly a foot long, making me gasp at how evil the thing looked. The edges weren’t one smooth crest, but rather a series of dips and sharp points along both sides, ensuring that once it stuck into someone, the journey out of the person would be the thing that ripped them to shreds. I’d always pictured switchblades to be much smaller, but this could do some serious damage.
Finn wrapped my fingers around the jade handle and pressed the steel to my breasts, shouting over the rain. “This is my balisong blade. If we’re separated, show any of the soldiers my blade, and they’ll know you’re under my protection. Stay tight to the wall, kendi! Leave your conscience in the castle, and hope that you don’t have to use this.”
“Be careful!” I stood up on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck, my heart racing against his. I’d never sent someone off to battle before, and the moment transcended how pissed I should’ve still been at him.
He smiled and kissed my unbruised cheek. “Don’t you know by now? I’m never careful. It’s how I’m still alive.” With that, he ran out to join the army.
I was terrified, and that didn’t often happen to me. A zombie army was bearing down on us, and I had what felt like a pretty butter knife to defend myself with. Okay, it was scarier and far larger than a butter knife, but it wasn’t exactly an automatic rifle or something that could inflict damage without me having to get close to the danger. I inched along the edge of the stone gate and peered around the opening, blinking out at the army that was too close, too gruesome with their gray, torn leprous skin and slack-jawed roars.
My eyes searched for Finn among the ranks. He was easy to spot, as he and his four men were the only ones with human heads. Finn’s knees were bent, his shoulders squared to the oncoming enemy as we waited for Kabayo’s command to unleash his soldiers. I clutched the knife as if I totally knew what I was doing with it.
Bruce Campbell, where are you?
One Mississippi.
Two Mississippi.
Three Mississippi.
“Steady, men!” Kabayo yelled, his arm raised.
I whispered my brother’s name and prayed that wherever Ollie was, that he knew I loved him.
Then I saw it. The commander in white for the zombie army drew his bow and let it fly, sinking it deep in the leg of one of Finn’s men. Not just one of his men, but the man right next to Finn. He had dark skin, a flat nose and wide shoulders. A few inches off, and it would’ve been Finn hitting the ground, gritting his teeth through the agony of the arrow.
My heart dropped into my stomach when Kabayo shouted, “Attack!”
The Tikbalangs and Finn’s men charged forward, vicious in all of their terrible glory. Finn’s man who’d been hit sat on the ground, unable to do anything but wait to be finished off.
Not on my watch. I bolted onto the battlefield, clutched the hilt of my closed knife between my teeth, and gripped the man under his armpits. He was a sturdy fellow, so I relied on a fair amount of adrenaline to drag him back behind the wall. “What’s your name?” I asked, propping him against the slick stone.
“Klavin, milady.” He had the grace to answer with manners, even though I could see him cringing in pain.
I didn’t wait for him to be ready; I ripped the arrow from his leg without warning or hesitation. He howled as I unlocked the balisong blade and cut off the fabric of his sleeve. Rolling his pant leg up, I made a quick bandage that would hopefully stem the bleeding until I had more time to treat it. “You’ll be alright, but you’re done fighting for now. Stay here. Can I borrow your sword?”
“Of course. You can take whatever you like.” He was sweating now, and I prayed he wouldn’t pass out.
Though I didn’t know him, I gripped his hand as if gearing up for an arm wrestling match. His beautiful skin was the same color as Judge’s, and my heart pinged when I pictured my Judge in this much pain. I leaned forward and kissed Klavin’s cheek. “Stay strong, soldier.”
“Wait, you can’t go out there!” he cried after me as I stood, his sword in my right hand and the long, thick, jagged dagger from Finn clutched in my left. My muscles tensed for the fight Sama had coming.
I didn’t listen to Klavin, but ran out onto the battlefield. I was done cowering and feeling scared. I wouldn’t be made small. I wouldn’t be stepped on by Sama or his zombies. Though I didn’t know how to fight with a sword, I hoped my determination would make up for some of that. My name wasn’t Bruce Campbell, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me. I let my favorite superhero act as my guardian angel, driving me forward with confidence. I imagined him whispering, “You’ve got this, sweetheart,” in my ear as I ran without pause or self-preservation.
I was determined to be a good soldier. Years of video games with Ollie and my casual guy Beto trained me for a zombie apocalypse. I wasn’t about to chicken out now. Snarl in place, I charged into the fray, keeping low and hoping my knife and sword would be a decent challenge to the menace of their spears.
11
October Grace, Zombie Slayer
When the two sides met, it was with a crash of screaming metal and fury beneath the pelting rain. I could hardly see more than two feet in front of me, but when a zombie jabbed his spear in my direction, I ducked and lunged for his knees. My unexpected force toppled him backward and plunged my knife into his gut. He smelled like rotting garbage and looked like a science experiment gone horribly wrong. His gray face had holes in it like Swiss cheese, and drooped on one side. This one was about six feet tall, but they were all varying sizes. I co
uld see one with gills, like Finn had, a few rows down. There was even a zombie Tikbalang fighting against his kin with dead eyes and a hunger for something meatier than buhay shoots.
I sat up atop my conquest’s chest after he’d hit the ground and set to making a path of destruction to be reckoned with. The zombie to my left got a quick stab to his thigh. I made the wound worse by dragging my knife upwards in a clean slit before retracting. It wasn’t red blood that flowed out, but a thick, black tar-like substance that coated my knife and stank like sulfur, stinging my eyes. I indulged in a split second of conflict: part of me wanting to run from the disease-infested blood, and the other part was fascinated, wishing I could take a sample and study it under a microscope.
I wanted to vomit when the black blood came close to touching my fingers, but knew there’d be time for that later. Adrenaline trumped my neurosis, so I fed the machine inside of me that was hungry to be set loose.
Finn had three zombies on him, his sword swinging out and slicing with purpose and pleasure. Still on my knees, and probably harder to spot with all the rain, I thrust my knife into the calf muscle of the nearest zombie to give Finn a little breathing room. “Get behind the wall!” he bellowed at me.
The throng of gray-faced, open-mouthed soldiers filled my vision, and I knew I would be dealt with in the harshest way possible if I didn’t get up quick. I hopped to my feet and dodged one of the spears that jabbed at me, grabbing it at the midpoint and yanking its owner forward so I could stab him through his throat.
Finn’s eyes were wide with shock that was mingled with appreciation. “Stay close to me,” he said, amending his edict that I should run and hide.
The rampant germs scared me more than the murdering at my hands. I recognized that as much progress as I like to think I’d made, some part of me might always have this dysfunction without Von and Mason to suck it out of me.
Tempt (Terraway Book 4) Page 6