The hungry one crashed into her as she leaned over the corpse trying to pull the dagger out. The thing’s knee struck her chest knocking the wind out of her. As she gasped for air, it grabbed her left arm and pulled it toward its mouth. Maarika, gasping for air, fell to her knees as the full weight of the creature pressed down on her back.
“Maarika!” Nasir yelled.
Frantically she searched around for something, anything that would help. At that same moment, Nasir crashed into the gate with his shoulder; it didn’t move an inch. Her fingers wrapped around the pommel of the broken sword. She raised the broken blade and plunged it into the foot of the snarling beast on top of her, pinning it to the ground. She then yanked her left arm out of its grasped and rolled free.
Nasir crashed into the gate again. The jolt from his effort caused the bar to slide back into place, nullifying the progress Maarika made with the sword. As she frantically looked around the courtyard for another weapon, a second hungry one emerged, this time from the smithy, drawn by the noise of Nasir efforts. The bearded man was wearing the thick brown leather apron of a blacksmith. She took off running in the opposite direction toward the stable, Maybe I can find a pitch fork there.
Maarika covered the distance to the stables in a few seconds with the former blacksmith in close pursuit. Without pausing, she ran into the building. She had to come to an immediate halt as there was a long row of stalls in front of her. Looking to her left, she spotted a pitchfork hanging on the far wall. She accelerated into a sprint just as the blacksmith drew close enough to reach for her. Unable to correct in time, he crashed into the stall door just in front of him with a dull thump.
The blacksmith snarled in frustration, turned and spotted Maarika running away. Within its dim consciousness, it registered the fact that she was trapped and could not escape him. He thought of how good it would be to feel her soft flesh sliding down his throat, and he let out a noise of pure delight. To Maarika, the noise sounded like a cross between a growl and a drunken slur.
Reaching the pitchfork, Maarika grabbed it off the wall and spun around to face the charging blacksmith. As it drew close, she held the pitchfork over her head with both hands. The blacksmith closed to within five feet of her, and he lifted up his arms to grab her. She thrust the sharp tines of the pitchfork into his head. He came to an abrupt stop and fell to the ground pulling the pitchfork from her grasp.
Sighing audibly with relief, she placed her foot onto the blacksmith’s head and pulled the pitchfork out. As she did so, she noticed his leather belt; it appeared to be made out of goat skin. Holding her breath to minimize the putrid smell invading her nostrils, she undid the belt and pulled it off of the blacksmith’s corpse. Sticking the pitchfork into the dirt floor, she held the supple leather strap in her hands and went through the motion of slinging a stone, “This will work great, I just need to find some rocks, and I’ll be able to kill these bastards without getting my hands dirty.”
Maarika tied the goatskin belt around her waist and yanked the pitchfork out of the ground. Holding the pitchfork in front of her with both of her hands, she crept silently across the courtyard to the smithy. As she entered the smithy, she looked around to see if any more of the blacksmith’s friends wanted to turn her into a meal, she didn’t see any, “Anyone home?” she asked.
The only thing Maarika heard in response was the faint rustle of the wind. Satisfied, she was alone, she searched around the smithy until she found what she was looking for, an ax. It was not the kind of ax used to chop wood. Instead, designed for war, it was meant chop down human opponents in armor, “This should work nicely.”
Maarika set the pitchfork down on the dirt floor of the smithy, careful to be silent, and took the ax. Like the pitchfork, she held it with both hands, ready to use it on anything else that wanted to turn her into a meal. Exiting the smithy, she looked around for a stone. Finding what she was looking for, she bent over and picked it up. The stone was perfect for what she had in mind.
As Maarika approached the gate, the hungry one she had stabbed with the broken gladius was still stuck fast to the ground. She took out the leather strap she had taken from the blacksmith’s corpse with her right hand. With her left hand, she placed the stone onto the strap where it formed a natural u as she held it. She then twirled the belt over her head with all her strength and flung it at the hungry one. The stone sailed true and struck the thing right in the forehead easily piercing the bone. The hungry one fell to the ground with a dull thump.
Reaching the gate, she said, “I’ve found an ax.”
“Thank God,” Nasir responded.
Maarika stood in front of the gate with her legs spread apart to provide extra balance. With her right hand, she grasped the top portion of the ax handle, and with her left hand, she held the lower half of the ax handle. She swung the ax over her head and brought the head down upon the wood bar. It struck with a thunk sound and sank about two inches into the bar. She jerked the ax loose, turned around, and waited several seconds. She heard nothing but the sound of the wind rustling the sand on the ground.
Satisfied that she wasn’t going to be attacked, she kept swinging the ax at the bar until with a loud cracking sound it broke. The bar severed roughly in its middle fell to the ground in two separate pieces. Nasir hearing the bar break pushed on the gate from the outside. Maarika stepped back as the gate opened inwardly into the fort.
Nasir saw her and with a smile ran to her and hugged her, “I thought I had lost you to those damned things several times.”
With a scoff, Maarika said, “Then who would be around to keep you alive?”
Before Maarika could get anything else out, his lips met hers. Relishing the taste of his mouth, she kissed him back fervently and reached down. She felt his manhood stir at her touch. Stepping back from the embrace Nasir said, “Not yet love. Let us make sure the fort is secure. I’d hate to end up inside the stomach of one of the hungry. When we are joined, the rest of the world ceases to exist for me.”
Maarika pulled him close to her again and gave him a pouting look. Nasir tried to speak again, but she placed a finger on his lips. The pout changed to a smile, and she said, “That is quite a compliment.”
Nasir kissed her again for several more seconds. He then took a step back from her and looked around the fort, “What a mess.”
“Aye,” Maarika responded.
“Are there any of the hungry ones around that you know of?”
“No, all of the ones I’m aware of are with Bismillah.”
“Stay behind me and let’s clear this place. Hopefully, we can find someone alive that can tell us what happened here.”
One by one the pair checked the out buildings for the hungry. There were none left. They were disappointed to find that all of the horses had been eaten. Finally, Nasir’s eyes settled on the main barracks building. The stout oak door was shut. Nasir yanked on the door handle while Maarika stood by ready to slay anything that emerged with the ax. The door didn’t budge.
“Let’s circle around and see if there is another entrance that isn’t barred from the inside,” Nasir said.
Maarika nodded in reply. Together they crept around the barracks building looking for a back door or a window that they could crawl through. They found the window shutters closed tight, locked, and no other doors.
“I don’t like the idea of using the ax on one of the shutters and then crawling through the window. Whoever goes first will be in a very vulnerable state until their eyes adjust to the darkness.”
Maarika nodded, “That sounds like a good precaution. I guess we can use the ax on the front door.”
The two returned to the front door. Maarika looked around for more stones in the courtyard. She found several good ones and also took a pouch from the body of a fallen soldier. Using the man’s belt, she fastened it around her waist over her dress. She then dropped the stones into the pouch, handed Nasir his dagger back, and looted one from another fallen soldier nearby. Next, she positi
oned herself about twenty feet from the door. Satisfied she said, “Ok, I’m ready.”
“Good, if there is any inside, the sounds of the ax striking the door will cause them to gather. It is likely that they will push the door open.”
Maarika took a deep breath, “Let’s get this over with.”
Nasir struck the door with the ax. The ax sank deeply into the door with a loud thunk. Instantly they could hear the sounds of several of the hungry ones call out. Nasir swung the ax again at the door and knocked a large chunk of wood loose.
The door held fast as he continued to swing at it again and again, while those inside went berserk over the noise it created. They could hear the sounds of several of the undead clawing at the door from the other side. Finally, Nasir’s efforts began to tell, and with a final blow, the hungry soldiers burst forth from the door.
Nasir was swept to the side by the force of the group. They failed to notice him as the group of six charged straight toward Maarika. In the space it took them to run eight feet, she dropped one with a precisely placed shot to the head using her sling. In the second it took her to reload and fire, they had closed to within five feet of her. She killed the second of the six and turned to run.
In those precious few seconds, Nasir recovered and gave chase. Just as Maarika dodged to the right to avoid the onslaught, he sank the ax into the back of the head of the last one in line. They were all wearing the armor of Roman Skutatoi heavy infantry. Luckily for the pair, none of them had helmets on.
As the third hungry fell to Nasir’s ax blade, Maarika dodged to her right to avoid their charge. Two of them were unable to correct in time for her change in position but the last soldier, a smaller more dexterous one, managed the turn despite his armor. He crashed into her and knocked her over. As he pulled her left leg toward his gaping, hungry maw, she smashed its face with her right foot. The bottom of her sandaled foot smashed his teeth, and he spat several of them out. She kicked it again, and teeth went flying in multiple directions. Dazed for a moment, he lost his grip on her left calf.
As the two larger less nimble hungry turned around and ran toward Maarika, prone and vulnerable on the ground, Nasir bellowed, “Over here you hungry fucks!”
The sounds of his scream caused them to change directions and charge toward him instead. As they reached him, he brought his ax down on the head of the first one killing it, but the second one knocked him over and tried to sink its teeth into his throat.
Before Maarika could reach her feet and scramble away, the smaller soldier grabbed her calf again and bit her. She screamed in surprise. As she felt the pressure of the thing’s jaws on her soft flesh, she drew her dagger and sank it, up to the hilt, in its head. Instantly, it stopped and collapsed on top of her leg.
At the same time, Nasir held off the last of the hungry with his left arm. He could smell the thing’s fetid breath as it crept ever closer to the flesh of his neck. With his right hand, he drew his gladius and shoved it into the side of the hungry’s skull. It made a loud death rattle as it collapsed on top of him.
Nasir pushed the corpse off of him and sat up. He looked over at Maarika and was horrified by what he saw; her left leg was covered in blood. Their eyes met, and she said, “I’m bit.”
Chapter 8
Dawn August 3rd 636 Mount Hermon, Syria Province, Byzantium
Demons
Athos was cutting vines with his hunting knife when he heard Kristophor cry out, followed by the growling of a wolf. The young Armenian slipped the hunting knife into his belt and ran toward brother. This time I’m going to save him.
Athos broke into the clearing and immediately jumped onto a wolf facing away from him. The weight of his body landing on the animal forced the beast to collapse to the ground. The smell of the wolf assailed his nostrils. The bastard had gone many days without being immersed in a stream and stank. He gripped the smelly bastard’s neck with his right hand and yanked. The wolf’s neck snapped with a loud crack.
Athos leaped to his feet and ran toward Kristophor. A huge wolf turned to face him. She had a long-jagged scar down her left flank. Someone had attempted to end her life with a sword and had nearly succeeded. The bitch snarled and bared her teeth at him. Hang on, Kristophor, I’m coming.
Athos planted his left leg firmly on the ground and cocked his right leg back. Bringing his right foot rapidly forward, his boot connected hard with the bottom of the bitch’s chin sending her teeth flying in several directions. She screamed in agony as her mouth snapped shut, severing the edge of her tongue. Bleeding and defeated, she ran from Athos’ fury.
Athos screamed in triumph and charged toward Kristophor. A horn sounded in the distance. The sound was faint at first but grew slowly in intensity. “No,” Athos muttered. He tried to block out the sound of the horn and pulled out his hunting knife, intent on killing the next wolf in front of him. It was no use. The horn grew louder and louder. Athos screamed in frustration, “NOOOOO!”
His eyes snapped open, and he sat up. He was covered in sweat and Baltazar was looking down at him. Baltazar’s face was etched with concern. He smiled when their eyes locked, “Welcome back, Athos, I was beginning to worry about you. That must have been some dream.”
Baltazar handed his canteen Athos. Grateful, Athos took it from his hand and took a long drink. His back felt stiff and still throbbed from yesterday’s ordeal. Baltazar helped Athos to his feet. Athos looked around. The sun was just starting to touch the peak of Mount Hermon. The air was cool, and a mist hung over the ground, giving it an ominous feeling.
The men of the 5th Parthica were all around him. They took down their tents and broke their fast. Their meal that morning consisted of a hard biscuit and a mouthful of water mixed with some wine from their canteens. After about ten minutes, each Kentarches yelled, “Form up in column of sixes.”
The men of the 5th Parthica complied, forming up into their individual Kentarches. Nikas yelled, “Attention!” Which sounded like ten-hut. Athos and the rest of the members of the 2nd Kentarchia complied with the order.
Standing at attention was a rigid stance. Both legs were pressed together from your thighs down to your feet. The feet point perfectly forward. Your arms were held to your side, and your hands were held in a fist with your thumbs pointing downward toward the ground. Your shoulders were held up and rigid with your chest sticking out. This position was hard to maintain especially in the heat of the day or, like this moment, while in full armor and wearing your pack.
The next command boomed out, “Forward March!” As one the men of the 5th Parthica took a step forward with their left foot. Each of those left feet hit the ground at the same moment creating an impressive sound. It was as if a giant’s foot had struck the ground. The right foot was next. The right feet of the Skutatoi also hit the ground in perfect unison creating another loud thump which echoed off the mountain. This continued as they left camp and began their descent down the path.
They marched for about a mile. The stiffness in Athos’ back began to subside as his muscles warmed and loosened up. Nikas yelled, “2nd Kentarchia at ease. You may talk quietly amongst yourselves as we march.” This is unusual, thought Athos.
Damon voiced what everyone around him was thinking, “What is going on? We have always marched in silence.”
Constan answered his question, “You’ve grown up, lads. When the officers are satisfied that you can perform your duties as a soldier regardless of circumstance, they afford you more privilege. Nikas is confident that you will respond in a disciplined manner even if allowed a little loosening of the yoke while we march.”
Nikas came up alongside Athos and spoke, “Athos, with me for a spell. We must speak.”
Athos responded nervously, “Yes, sir.” While thinking silently, Oh hell, now what?
Nikas stopped and waited for the rest of the Kentarchia to pass them by. Once they had done so, he waited a few more seconds so that there were about fifty feet between the back of the 2nd Kentarchia and them. They w
ere still several dozen feet ahead of the 3rd Kentarchia, which afforded a degree of privacy.
Nikas looked over at Athos and began, “Athos, you cried out this morning as you awoke. Why?”
Athos blushed, he hadn’t realized that he had yelled that loudly, “Sir, it’s a nightmare I keep having about the death of my brother.”
“Explain.”
Athos sighed audibly indicating his displeasure at the subject matter, “Shortly before I left home for the last time, I went out hunting with my little brother. The harvest had been bad. My father was recovering from a grave illness and couldn’t hunt. We needed meat. My younger brother Kristophor and I managed to bring down a huge buck. Well, Kristophor did mostly.”
Athos took a deep breath and fought down the tears that always came when he spoke of this. He looked out over the plain below them. The sun had broken the horizon fully and was beginning to bite, “The buck was too heavy for me to carry, so we had to build a sled of sorts. The sled would enable both of us to drag it.”
“Why couldn’t you just tie it to a pole and the two of you carry it that way?” Nikas asked with a perplexed look on his face.
Athos replied, “Kristophor was only ten, he would not have had the strength to carry such a large buck in that manner for long. I figured if we could take three branches and build a sled, we could drag the buck home. While I was away cutting some vines for the sled, wolves, smelling blood from our kill, came to steal the buck. I rushed back when I heard the commotion, but it was already too late. There were simply too many wolves, and I was unable to save Kristophor.” Athos’ voice trailed off at this revelation.
Nikas placed his hand on Athos’ shoulder, “A loss such as that is hard to bear but bear it we must. Experiences such as these helped to form the people that we are. I know it is hard to imagine right now that you will get past this but you will. As soldiers, we have to take experiences such as these and use them to form and shape our hearts into iron. We cannot afford the luxury of letting thoughts such as these weaken us. We must take the things that have caused us hurt in this life and squeeze them until it hurts no more.”
Byzantium Infected Box Set Page 10