Deadfall: Hunters (28 page)

We are supposed to be getting ready to leave. We were hoping to be at the mountain home by tonight, but, as continues to happen so very often, the plans changed. It’s about 2:00 p.m. and we are still planning to leave, but we won’t get far. Or maybe we will.

We got to the Salisbury tower last night. Large water tower, converted. It was impressive. This one was redone by Army engineers, or with their assistance, I wasn’t sure. Last night was still a blur. In either case, it was a really nice place. They had a big solar array and batteries, so they had running electricity and water. The tower was well vented. It had a central cooking and dining area and tons of rooms along the edge of the inner wall. Eighty three people lived here along with three Army scouts and twelve Hunters. They had even constructed a pad on top of the tower to land a helicopter. Around the tower they had a sixteen foot high fence with several towers, and outside of this fence, fields and fields of corn and other crops. From everything I have seen here, these people got it figured out.

They fed us corn muffins today, with strawberries. It was fantastic. I guess it helped that Sarah had come through last night. She had given me something to sleep, and I sure did. I remember nothing. I took the pills, some ten minutes later I was out. No dream, no visions, nothing but empty darkness and slumber.

So, as I said earlier, we had intended to leave this morning. As we packed up, the soldiers and Hunters found us, asking for news of Sunny Pointe. We told them a little about what happened, mostly that the place was safe, mostly, for now. We hesitated to tell them too much, just because we still felt a little like fugitives. We all looked nervous when another soldier came running to us and began whispering in the other’s ear. We all kind of knew what was about to happen.

“Are you Brian Orbison?”

Really, I should have lied. Of course I should have. But, even knowing full well what was going on, I nodded, like a dumbass. They appeared surprised. They said they had been ordered to detain me, but they also got another message, from someone we were familiar with. They asked us to stay put, which we did because we didn’t have as many guns. Not that we’d need them. Or use them.

Ten or twenty minutes later, the chopping sound of a helicopter filled the air and we squinted as we looked east to see a one land on top of the tower. It was one of those larger ones, the ones that carried people. A few soldiers came out, dragging someone with them. They used the elevator, wait, I forgot to mention that. They have an elevator. So they used it to come down and we were reunited with a face from the past. Captain Rhodes.

He had also heard of the orders to detain me, but he had gotten here first. And he had someone he wanted us to see.

They had the guy locked up inside a small shack. It was one of the ‘handlers’, or ‘shepherds’ still dressed in their black uniform. Now that I could see one this close, I could see a symbol on his chest. It, as far as I could guess, was some kind of word in a foreign alphabet. Almost like Persian, sweeping letters of some sort. In red as well, as a stark contrast to the black uniform. It was a loose fitting uniform too, like something out of Lawrence of Arabia, just, in black. He was tied up to a chair, but by the look of him, there was no need. He was a little beat up, but Rhodes said they found him like that. They had taken him near Raleigh, when they had spotted a small horde moving slowly north. The zombies were beating the snot out of him and others there. Rhodes had come in on a helicopter, dropped some men and fought the zombies off, taking the handler prisoner. That had been their mission. He was returning to Sunny Pointe when he heard we had been found here in Salisbury. Rhodes had heard about what had really happened on the walls, and wanted to talk to me personally.

We sat there and talked a bit. The handler was under some kind of stupor. He was high on something. He was mostly incoherent, babbling on about nonsense. Rhodes handed me a book they had found on him. I started browsing through it. It was like a bible, except it didn’t have any of the stories I may have been familiar with. Instead, it had other stories. Ancient, it seemed, like Greek myths. It spoke about wars, and generals and armies, prophets and plagues, giants, dragons, gods. And that was just from a brief look. It has heavily annotated too, maybe by its owner. I’d seen old people do that with their Christian Bibles.

Two other soldiers were trying to question the guy, but he continued to ramble. Tague was in the room with me while we watched. He kept rolling his head back and forth, like a drunk man. His eyes couldn’t focus on anything, and his speech was slurred at best. Then, I said something. I don’t remember what it was, but I just made some comment. The handler sat up straight in his chair.

“YOU!” he growled.

He was focused on me. He called me the voice. The voice of death. Charming. He blamed me for their death. He was furious, shouting and screaming at me. He kept going on about this voice but then said some other voice would swallow mine. The voice of light. Random mutterings perhaps, but terms I’d best remember. I guess that’s why I write stuff down.

Rhodes pulled me aside. He asked me if I knew anything that he was rambling about. I had to admit that I didn’t, but that maybe I could find out. I told him that’s why I was heading back to my home, to try to find out what this was all about, if I could. He told me he had orders to bring me back in, but that he was really debating disregarding those orders. I told him I’d be ok with him doing that. He’s a good guy. I think being out there, beyond Sunny Pointe, allowed him to be little more grounded. Ironic, since he was mostly flying around in a helicopter.

To make up the fact that he wouldn’t be able to turn me in, I turned over a bit of my magic dust. Not much, although it was obvious now that not much was needed. He could say he found it on the handler. Odds were good this guy, and all others like him, were using the stuff anyways.

So now we’re finally off. No idea how far we will get tonight. Hopefully they won’t get in trouble for letting me go.

In the meantime, I have some reading to do. This book, there is something that resonates. Stories, maybe. There is an army of the dead in here. I just saw that part. Certainly, that can’t be a coincidence.

This is one of those circumstances where I’m glad that some air conditioning exists in this world. Now, while some places still have electricity thanks in part to solar options, or, some other sources, air conditioning is just one of those things that takes too much power to run. So what does that mean to us? It means that we are reminded that in August, in North Carolina, it gets really, really hot. As we drove today we had to make several pit stops, twice to move debris from the road. In one spot, we really struggled in moving several cars out of the way so that we could continue the drive. Now, this is something that has happened many times before, it’s part of driving on roads that are no longer maintained. Whenever we came across something we had to move, usually a car wreck, or simply an abandoned vehicle, our biggest concern was keeping an eye for any walkers out there. But today was different.

See, at one point, the truck’s dash informed us that the temperature was one hundred and one degrees. Brutal. The last obstacle we had to move, three wrecked cars, were in a spot on the road that didn’t have a single blade of leaf to shade us. It was horrible. By the time we were crawling back into the trucks, I was drenched in sweat. I could taste it. I could feel it dripping all over the place. For a few moments, inside of the truck, it was horrible. And then those magical gusts of cold air were blowing and I was reminded of those things that we as humans had invented or developed that really made life nice. Easier. Or just made us lazier. I mean, cold conditioned air is a relatively new discovery in mankind’s time here on earth. So for thousands of summers, people have been doing just fine during hot days.

Of course, they’re not out and about pushing large cars out of the way in the sun.

Exciting? No. I had to point that out, just because.

So during the time that I wasn’t losing eighty percent of my body’s water in the hot August air, I was going through the book that they had found on the handler. A lot of it was dribble. Collections of stories, like something out of Greek mythology, including monsters, giants and dragons. In fact, the dragons were really prominent. All different kinds, well, except for the fire breathing kind were more used to. I skipped around a lot, mostly because a lot of it was boring. There was a lot of genealogy stuff, with parents, then kid’s names, and ancestors and all that crap. There were lists of cities, and peoples, and where they lived and the stuff they grew. It was like something out of a really boring history book. And I love history. But, as I was skipping, and I was nearing the end, I got to an interesting section.

I was, at first, going to copy it all over, but I’m not going that far. Instead, I’ve ripped the pages out and added them to the journal. Which reminds me, Aaron found a large binder type journal holder deal, covered in a really nice leather cover. It is a wonderful present. I’ve now been going through all my journal entries, both typed and written, and organizing them into one collection. To make things even cooler, Aaron also found a printer. Tonight, after I’m done writing this up, we’re gonna hook it up to the trucks power outlet, get my tablet linked to it, and were gonna print out all my entries. That way, I can have everything included in this journal.

We are camped out in a small house just outside of Asheville. We needed to take a detour around Asheville, so we decided to stop here, check the maps and make a plan. After we left Asheville the last time, we were a little nervous about what we might run into. That was months ago, but still. So here we are. It hasn’t cooled off much and it’s going to be a restless night for those of us that are bothered by the heat.

Me.

Anyways, no matter what we do, we should be able to easily reach the mountain abode tomorrow. There is a lot to do, but I think, the best thing will be just sleeping in my own bed. After everything that has happened since we left the mountain what feels like ages ago, my own bed, my own room, now that will feel great.

Also, pancakes. That’s what I want.

It feels good, really. After all this time, a safe place is what we all need. I remember once hearing someone in the tower cities, don’t remember who, but they mentioned how the best part of the towers were being able to sleep safely at night, without the worry about being attacked.

Safety is a precious commodity. Finding and having that commodity is priceless.

1
1
When the war was in its fifth year, and the desolation of death had encompassed the entire world, there were only a few cities that still survived amidst the ruin.
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There was the city of Perun, along the lake of Oration.
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Its people lived only by the bounty of the waters, but even death was depriving the lake.
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Those that remained in the once fair city knew their days were numbered, yet they remained there, tied to their lands and waters
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refusing to be lost to the death outside their walls.

6
The city of Alkalaban, in the foothills of the Gold Mountains, was once the seat of grain for all the world.
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From its lands everything that was sown, grew unlike any other and the beast that there were raised, grew in a majesty unheard of.
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The war had destroyed those lands, and the brave men that still remained survived only from what they could grow within the walls.
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Her brave warriors had been numerous, their spears like a thicket against the darkness of the dead.
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Glorious battles they had fought, but too many on their own lands.
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The once fertile dirt was now fouled with the blood of a thousand martyrs.
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Where once fields waved in long stalks of grain, only the rocks remained to tell a story of death.

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In the city of Arca, from whence the peaks of Sinat towered over, remained the last bastions against the armies of death.
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The city continued to look to the stars in hopes of relief, and her people cried out to the spirits of metal.
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The stone priests used their might to grow the largest of walls and even the armies of death feared the wrath of the mountains.
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But the stars never came back, and the spirits of metal had long departed from the mountains.
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There was no hope.

2
1
In the city of Arca there lived the greatest warrior among them.
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His voice was known to command the dead as well as the living, and his shout would send even the largest and most fearsome of his enemies into retreat.
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He had once lived in the great city of Sadom, and his line could be traced to the first of the ethernauts.
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His father, Mechal, was son to the great Hassalethm, who communed with the spirits of earth and metal.
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Of all the lords and kings, he was of the purest line. In his veins was the blood of the stars.

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His name was Anoe.

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He was a general, a leader of men. When the lower kin rebelled against the ethernaut kings, he led the army that put them down.
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When the queen Inanna sought the redemption of the dead, Anoe was there to fight against them.
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When the voice was lost to the dead, he was the last of the speakers.
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When the dead beat upon the walls of Arca, there Anoe did see the end.
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He heard the voice of the spirits of metal one last time.
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They instructed him to leave the earth and return it as it was.
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So great was the wickedness of the queen Inanna, that no other ethernaut should remain, but be cleansed from the earth.

14
The spirits instructed him to construct the vessel that would bring life back.
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Within this tower, Anoe was to bring life, as they found it, within it to be preserved.
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The lower kin would be saved here, to be put on their rightful path.

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The last of the dragons were called forth to help him build the tower. The last spirits of metal put their essence into the tower. Anoe and his family would be allowed to live in the tower.

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When the last armies of the dead made their attack on Arca, Anoe led the bravest of warriors upon the darkness.
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On one last battlefield, the general used his voice, and the dead fell silent upon his feet.
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The spirits of the stars called out one last time, and when the sky fell upon the earth, and all the warriors were dead, Anoe entered the tower and closed the door.

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In darkness his family remained until the earth had been scoured of its evil.
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But when the earth was filled with the rage of a thousand deaths, Anoe was called by the last spirit of metal.
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Anoe heard the screams of the living and the dead, and only his blood would suffice.
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He went out into the rage, and as the dead clawed at him, as his flesh was rendered from his body, he uttered one last word.

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And the world was finally silent.

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One spirit of metal, Apolytos, had usurped the plan of the others. He had let the voices of the dead flee.
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In cold darkness he entombed them and he along with them,
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for only the voice of Anoe could destroy him, and so he had found victory through exile.