APOCALYCIOUS: Satire of the Dead (51 page)

             
He heard the remaining man fall from the open window on the second floor. He still had heard no report from any firearm, but it didn’t matter. He stumbled to Nan and leaned close; she was crying harder now and shaking uncontrollably. She dropped to her knees as the strength abruptly left her shaking legs. Death dropped down in front of her and he saw a large shadow loom over them where they knelt. He glanced up and saw what he had only glimpsed as it blurred past him before; it appeared to be some kind of huge ape, as it looked down at them, covered and dripping from its victim’s blood and spinal fluid.

             
“Oh my god…” whispered Death in amazement and fear.

             
“Od?” asked the ape then clapped his hands together happily, showering Death and Nan with rivulets of blood.

             
“Don’t be afraid of him. That’s Laptu; he’s a big galoot but he’s friendly,” said a voice from behind Death Wagon. The voice was also accented with a backwoods drawl. Death snapped his head around and saw a man wearing a black ski mask walking to the cage of zombies. The ski mask dispatched each of the dead with a .357 peacemaker that had been holstered at his side. He spun the six-shooter on his finger and smoothly slid it back into the holster that rode low on his hip.

             
Death noticed that the man had only one hand and where the second should have been was a hook that appeared to be made of overlapping pieces of articulated metal that allowed it to flex like a prehensile tail. The masked man walked over to them and pulled off the ski mask, revealing a shaved head. Death felt his hope wilting and the man seemed to instantly recognize the look.

             
“Oh…no, no, man, I ain’t one of
them
…I had lice,” he blurted out, and his face turned instantly red. Embarrassed, he continued to stammer, “I don’t have lice anymore though…” The man slung the silenced rifle over his shoulder and tapped himself on the chest with the edge of his hook. “I’m Arlington Neff.”  He then withdrew a K-bar from its leather sheath opposite his six-shooter and he cut Nan loose, then Death. As he did this, he continued to babble, “So you know me and Laptu, there's nothing to worry about now. We're friends.”

             
The cat had remained unaffected by the gunfire, as if it were common place for it and it probably was. It moved closer to Nan and she scooped him up in her arms, cradling it, crying and kissing the feline’s head over and over. The stray purred contentedly, and Arlington thought he saw the cat smiling.

             
Death looked at Arlington, “Thank you…I can’t thank you enough.”

             
Arlington held a hand up modestly and smiled. It was an easy and honest grin, almost boyish, even though he knew Arlington had to be in his forties. “Awww… listen I just happened to come across you all out of luck. I was looking for a friend of mine, named Daniel Tyson. I don’t s’pose you know him do ya?”

             
Death was shocked but managed to reply, “Actually we do.”

             
“Really? Where’s he at? Is he still alive?” asked Arlington in rapid fire succession.

             
“He’s alive, but he’s not here.”

             
“Where’s he at?”

             
“That’s tough to explain,” said Death frowning

             
Arlington’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he nervously fidgeted with his Ranger cord bracelet.

             
Death saw the expression and tried anyway. “If you have the time I can try to explain it but it is all pretty freaky, man.”

             
Arlington’s expression softened and a smaller grin resurfaced. “You guys hungry?”

             
“Food, food!” exclaimed Laptu excitedly. Arlington thought that over the past few days Laptu was speaking better.  It occurred to him that in the case of the Pedtu, the chip might have been part of an electronic dog collar/ invisible fence.

             
“I’m not hungry,” said Nan. “I doubt that I could hold anything down anyway, but it sounds like the big guy is hungry.”

             
“He’s always hungry.”

             
“Hungry!” Laptu agreed.

             
“He just took a giant dump in the woods over there a few minutes ago, so he’s got space to fill up again,” said Arlington jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

             
Nan laughed heartily and the brightness of that sound calmed the surge of adrenaline coursing through Death's veins.

             
“How would you guys like to take a ride in a spaceship?” asked Arlington

             
“Ride!” said Laptu jumping up and down. Death could see that the impact of those huge feet hitting the ground was literally making Nan teeter. Death looked at Nan’s face; her eyes were wide with excitement. In some ways she was still so much of a kid.

             
“I don’t know…I’d like to get Nan back home where it’s safe.”

             
“Death Wagon, you stop it!” she said and turned to Neff “A spaceship you say?” She sounded defiant and dubious all at once.

             
Arlington nodded “Basil, do you want to bring the ship to us?” he said after retrieving a small radio from his belt and keying the mic.

             
The cat eyed him for a moment not wanting to get down from Nan. She was nice and warm, but it grudgingly jumped from her arms as Death helped her to her feet.

             
Nan raised an eyebrow doubtfully. “Who's Basil?”

             
“An Egyptian guardian of the dead, half man, half dog, but he is also a pretty good pilot,” Arlington said, looking back toward the tree line. He turned back to Death and Nan. “Best gather up your weapons, he’ll be here in a short.”

             
“Shouldn’t we check out the rest of the hotel to see if there are any more of those rednecks in there?” asked Death inspecting Nan’s body armor, “I don’t suppose you’ve got any duct tape so we can fix the straps on her armor , do you?”

             
“Duct tape? Who’s the redneck here?” asked Arlington, joking around. He gauged Death’s expression “Too soon? Sorry. Yeah, I’ve got some in the ship. As far as the hotel…the scanners didn’t pick up anymore heat signatures besides the two of you and the other four.”

             
Death eyed him seriously and with a tone that matched his expression he asked with serious suspicion arching his brow.  “You’re not insane are you?”

             
Arlington laughed and Laptu clapped the pirate on the back and bellowed laughter too.

             
Arlington wiped his eyes with the back of his hand “Seems likely, don’t it? Maybe when you see the ship…” Suddenly the sky darkened above them and soundlessly the large silver disk-shaped ship hovered over the tree line then settled softly onto the courtyard. A door opened downward and formed a ramp to walk up. At the top of the ramp stood the Anubis a long tipped spear in one hand. Death had been a big fan of old sci-fi movies and was struck with nostalgia, but his mouth still hung open in disbelief.

             
“Basil?” asked Nan after a slight pause.

             
“Yep,” Arlington nodded.

             
“It's beautiful!” Nan exclaimed as she noticed the way the black velvet fur seemed almost iridescent. “He looks like a king!”

             
Arlington rolled his eyes, “Man, don't be telling him that crap, his head is big enough.”

             
Basil narrowed his eye at the pirate but said nothing. Arlington thought the Anubis was flexing his abs though.

             
“Are you sure his name isn’t Klatu?” he asked, thumbing at the Sasquatch. Arlington blinked at him not understanding. “The Day the Earth Stood Still?” asked Death. He searched Arlington’s face for any sign of recognition, but there was still nothing, “Never mind.”

             
Arlington smiled with a little confusion but a lot of hospitality and swept an arm grandly toward the ship like a showcase model from the Price is Right, although the hook at the end of it gave it a bizarre quality. “Shall we?”

             
“Yes, yes, yes!” exclaimed Nan and grabbed Death’s coat sleeve tugging at him.

             
Death resisted, “Can you take us back home in that thing?” he asked.

             
Arlington shrugged “Don’t see why not. On the way you can tell me about Danny.”

             
From the woods behind the hotel they could hear the rumbling and screams of the dead coming en mass toward their position.

             
“I think it’s the vibrations of the ship that draws them. We can’t hear it, but they seem to,” explained Arlington, the Pirate. “We probably ought to hurry,” he said and strode to the ship’s ramp. Nan stopped tugging Death’s sleeve and snaked her arm through his and found that he was more apt to go with gentleness than by force. She filed that fact away, like all women do.

             
                                                  
Chapter 61 - Safe Havens

             
After a brief detour to the Winnebago for the rest of their belongings they headed for the mines under the control of Basil’s dexterous hands.

             
“Your job is to find a place that’s safe for survivors?” asked Nan.

             
“Yep,” Arlington answered simply.

             
“That’s a big job. Where are you going to go?” asked Death. Normally Death Wagon didn’t trust people, but for some reason he felt an easy connection with this strange man.

             
“I’m still not sure, but I’m open to suggestions.”

             
“It would have to be fortified,” said Nan.

             
…and secluded,” added Death

             
Arlington nodded. “Terrain should be strategic and the land needs to be fertile for farming.” He tapped the point of his hook on the table top for emphasis.

             
“It might be a good idea to set up multiple settlements so you could separate clashing personalities and viewpoints,” Nan said, the debacle of the Greenbrier still fresh in her mind.

             
“Well, to tell you the truth, I figure that anyone I meet that’s a scumbag I just won’t take,” Arlington said in his usual honest way of speaking.

             
“That’s pretty harsh. Judging people on first impressions is sort of like playing god, isn’t it?” Death asked.

             
Arlington nodded again. “That’s why I’ll let Laptu be the judge. He seems to be a pretty good judge of character.”

             
“Where is Laptu?” asked Nan

             
“He’s probably in his den playing with his Barbies.”

             
“Barbies? You mean like baby dolls?” asked Death grinning.

             
“What can I tell you? He’s just a big innocent kid,” Arlington explained.

             
“He didn’t seem that innocent when he was ripping that guy’s head off of his shoulders,” interjected Death.

             
Arlington shrugged. “He does what he has to.”

             
“Have you found any others?” asked Nan, trying to change the subject

             
“Some. I found quite a few of the Lumbee Indian tribe down in North Carolina. They are a tough and smart people but they refused help, I couldn’t blame them. They didn’t seem to need any help anyway. Then there was a government installation in Kansas that was full of elitists.

“Who were these elitists?” Death asked.

“Politicians, heads of state, corporate heads…that part I expected but some of the people there surprised me.”

“Who else was there?” Death asked with open curiosity.

“Eco types… uh…naturalists, Green Peace douche bags...you know.”

“What? You’ve gotta be kidding me. They are polar opposites in politics and beliefs,”
Nan said with doubt.

Arlington
shook his head. “Apparently not; see, they both wanted to be dominant, and that power came at the expense of the common man. They were both extremely rich and powerful sects and when this plague began the rich right wanted to look after themselves because they were rich and therefore better than us…” he paused “the rich left wanted to look after themselves under the guise of being champions for the planet. They had long thought that the human race should be no more than a few million and that would mean the extermination of billions; so who do you think would make the cut? Them, not us, I am sure of that much…”

“So you are saying that they played a role in this?” Death asked.

“I’m not saying that they didn’t…who knows? The only thing that is important now is us, and we need a place to start.”

             
“Easter Island!” said Nan suddenly. “That would be a good place for a settlement.”

             
Arlington smiled. Women had a different way of thinking than men did. Where man’s thinking was more linear and straight to the point, women often thought in parallel lines, multi-tasking their thoughts and often spoke in rabbit trails.

             
“Not bad, it’s definitely worth considering. If you think of any other possibilities then throw them in the hat too.”

             
“Do you know anything about the cattle mutilations and crop circles? I think those phenomenon are fascinating,” she asked.

             
Arlington was quiet for a moment as he gathered his thoughts and tried to put them into the correct words. “The mutilations were actually to give abductees food that was palatable to them; think of it as ordering a steak take out.” He paused for a minute then continued, “The crop circles were guideposts. Sorta like road signs for the other ships that could be viewed from the air. I have no idea what the codes are translated into, but I don’t pretend to know everything.”

             
“That sounds way too simple,” Death said.

             
“Well the Grays dumbed it down for me, I’m sure,” Arlington said nonplussed.

             
“Sometimes the simplest answer is the best one,” Nan added.

             
“I suppose…” Death said, not entirely convinced.

             
“I get you, Death, trust me I get you. Before all this weirdness happened I was a huge conspiracy nut. I had elaborate theories for pretty much everything…and most of them were basically crap.”

             
There was another moment of silence and Arlington brought the subject back to safe harbors. “What about Alaska? It’s remote, would have plenty of strategic positions and plenty of wild game.”

             
“Ohhh, I hate the cold,” shivered Nan.

             
“Do you know what I hate?” asked Death Wagon dryly.

             
Arlington raised an eyebrow speculatively. “What’s that?”

             
Death straightened up in his seat. “I hate when people use the word ‘passion’.”

             
“What’s wrong with passion?” asked Nan coyly.

             
“There’s nothing wrong with it… depending on the context. I’m talking about when someone says something like ‘I volunteer at the animal shelter; it’s my passion,’” Death said in a mocking tone, sarcasm dripped from his lips “but if you actually knew the truth then the last time they did anything like that it was ten years ago.”

             
“That’s sort of cynical isn’t it?” Nan asked.

             
Death shook his head. “It wouldn’t be so bad if they told you something realistic and not some load of bunk to impress you.”

             
Arlington laughed. “I get you. You never hear anyone say, ‘Getting high; it’s my passion.’.”

             
Nan giggled and added, “…or internet porn…it’s my passion,” She saw Death look at her with surprise and her face flushed.

             
“I’ve never heard you talk like that before,” Death said in fake shock and brought a hand to his heart mimicking Fred Sanford.

             
“Saying something that embarrasses me… it’s my passion,” said Basil sarcastically from his pilot’s seat behind them.

             
The three at the table looked at each other for a moment and burst into laughter. As it died down another round of awkward silence fell over the group of virtual strangers until Arlington broke it. “You know what I hate?”

             
“What?” Death asked expectantly.

             
“Awkward silence,” he said and Nan nodded in agreement.

             
“I was kind of expecting a joke there, Arlington,” said Death in disappointment.

             
Arlington looked chagrined. “So after we go to the mines and leave the note for your friends do you want to check out Easter Island?”

             
“Yes!” shouted Nan enthusiastically.

             
“We’ll need weapons, ammo, food, water…” Death muttered sourly.

             
Nan interrupted him, “We have all that at the mine.” She reached over and rubbed Death Wagon’s shoulder “C’mon Death, It will be like a tropical honeymoon.

             
“Killing zombies on my honeymoon…it’s my passion,” Nan said sweetly. “It’ll be romantic,” she added with a singing lilt on the last word.

                                                 
Chapter 62 – Bludglutton 

Graylocke
Castle,

Plane of the
Ark

Graylocke was a beautiful castle and they decided to stay for two days while they planned their next course of action. Mariel had agreed with her husband, Regeliel that they should seek out the Gemini for any additional insight that he might have.

Bodie had seen some of the women at Graylocke and had been amazed at the size of them, as well as with their perfectly proportioned beauty. “I could climb them like a tree!” he had told Daniel as they had sat and dined their first night.

On the morning of the third day they set out for the counsel of the Gemini. Mia was amazed at the size of the Nephilim steed, The Baluch. It stood at least ten feet tall at the shoulder and resembled a hornless rhinoceros. The hide of the great beasts was thick and hard, but the Nephilim still covered the vital areas with steel plated armor that shined in the sun like beacons. Despite the Baluch being numerous, they made the trek on foot, at Mia’s request.

Regeliel made camp close to a place he called, ‘
Bimini Road’. They had marched for hours and the day was coming to a close. The gate had changed them and that change, whether visible or not, had left them feeling exhausted, but that weariness was rapidly leaving them and they wanted to press on even though Regeliel advised them that making camp for the night was best.

“On the morrow we will set out for the Grove of the Gemini,” said the knight as he breathed life into the tinder for the fire. The flame caught and he slowly fed small sticks into the growing flames.

Daniel growled low in his throat.

“What is it boy? Is Timmy stuck in the
well?” asked Bodie in his gruff sounding voice. The squat, powerfully built dwarf hunkered down by the dog and the flames revealed the number 47 emblazoned on his forehead, only now it was surrounded by various other facial tattoos.

The large wolf, who answered to the name of Daniel Tyson, bared his fangs and Bodie thought he was grinning, but the hunger in that toothy grin gave him the creeps.

The moon was full and riding high in the night sky. “I need to run,” Daniel said.

“Aye lad, that ye do,” agreed the giant knight in absolute understanding. “Run, my friend, and we will meet on the morrow.”

Mia curled her body around Mick’s side and immediately fell asleep, snoring softly. Mick was always amazed at how easily sleep found her and how he had to force that relaxation into his mind before he too found that same somnolence.

Daniel trotted off into the shadows and howled long and forlorn into the nightscape.

“I don’t think he should be runnin’ off by himself,” worried his dwarven friend.

“He will be well,” assured the knight. “The Lycans have no natural predators.”

“He isn’t going to eat us while we sleep is he?” asked Mick.

“They are omnivores, but they are renowned for their loyalty. His instinct is to guard his people,” answered the knight.

“Good. I don’t have any silver bullets.”

Regeliel looked puzzled.

“Never mind,” Mick said as he stared into the leaping flames over crackling twigs.

He looked up at the sky. It had been clear just minutes before, but now the piercings of white was closed off by a thick band of dark clouds and the night became a deeper shade of dark that’s silence felt almost muffled, like it did when it snowed. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and Mia’s soft rhythmic breathing. She was Mick’s sleep remedy; listening to her sleep was like melatonin to his worried brain, and soon exhaustion claimed him and he joined his wife in those hallowed halls of sleep’s dark keep.

Regeliel was the last to sleep. He thought of Mariel and that one day, there would be none of these troubles or wars to be fought and then they would belong to only one another. The knight sighed heavily, wistfully as he watched the ashes from the fire rise on the thermals, fluttering like butterfly bones upon their pyre. His eyes grew as heavy as his heart from leaving his queen so soon after being reunited, but soon the king dreamed of Mariel’s sweet face and that would have to suffice, for now.