Legend of Mace (3 page)

“How do you know the antidote keeps it from happening?”

“Because we’re still standing. It’s widespread. I’m surprised you haven’t run into anything yet.”

The antidote, developed by a doctor in Cuba alarmed by the powerful effects of the toxin, prevented the zombie virus from spreading. It did, however, come with complications. Created for the original toxin, the antidote lacked a response to the alien amino acids later introduced to the concoction. Those attacked after receiving the antidote became unstable, developing an intense appetite for violence and sexual proclivity. Both Mace and Lisa struggled with the affliction.

“We’ve all received the antidote," Mace replied. "Any threat gets squashed before it even gets close. I’ve run into some crazy shit out there. I thought it was just what this life does to people.”

“Maybe, maybe not. There’s not a whole lot of rational thought once it takes hold, but if you saw it I wouldn’t think you’d mistake it for anything else.”

Mace no longer looked at the man as an enemy. He decided to introduce himself. “I’m Mace. I’m security around here. I’ll introduce you around. If you give me your word your people are safe, I’ll let you all go. There are some of ours you should meet, though. The kid that runs this place is only eleven, but he’s competent.”

“Did you say eleven?” the man asked, completely floored.

“Yeah, he’s some kind of prodigy or something. I got bit a few years back. I don’t know if you’ve come across that complication, but if you have you know it’s not an easy road.”

Tingles ran up the man’s spine. He nodded in understanding. “My name’s Roger. I’ve seen it. It’s not a pretty sight, and all of a sudden I am completely terrified of you.” Roger became silent for a moment. “How are you dealing with it?” 

“I’m not going to gut you like a fish, if that’s what you’re asking.” Mace smiled and it looked completely sinister.

Roger stammered slightly. “How, how many others are, uh, like you?”

“One other. She’s discovered the magical bliss of marijuana, though. It keeps her calmer.” Mace smiled menacingly. “She’d still gut you like a fish.”

Roger became fidgety enough for Mace to probe. “What’s the story? Somebody close to you?”

Roger took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “My wife. She committed suicide six months after she was attacked. She became unstable.” The memory still haunted his dreams.

“Yet you want to shake my hand?” Mace leaned in closer and deeply studied Roger's face. “How could that be?
"

“The antidote saved our lives on more than one occasion. Plus, it gave me six months with my wife I wouldn’t have had otherwise.” Roger felt unnerved by the whole situation. He'd failed his wife. He didn't need to drag it all up again.

Reflecting on Roger's words for a few minutes, Mace leaned back and tried to understand the man. Too comfortable with anger and violence, he seldom looked for the good in anything anymore. “What did you do before everything went to shit?” 

Roger looked uncomfortable before he said quietly, “I was a minister.”

Mace immediately felt a pit in his stomach and felt like leaving. He remained seated and closed his eyes for a second to quell the uneasy feeling. “I was a spiritual man, once,” Mace said, feeling ice cold inside. “At least I thought I was. Now, I don’t know what the hell I believe in.”

“Once you accept spirituality you can’t just reject it,” Roger replied, instantly regretting his response by Mace’s expression. He spoke quickly, out of nerves. “I mean, if you discovered something greater than yourself once, you will forever question and try to come to terms with it.”

The words swam around in Mace’s head. It actually described him perfectly. As much as he would like to deny the existence of God, he spent more time asking questions than outright rejecting the concept. He’d experienced the light once, and as much as he’d like to, he just couldn’t forget it.

Thinking about the atmosphere around the compound, he knew how much they needed some type of moral compass. The kids were close to savages. They’d been forced to grow up that way. While he tried to live by a certain code, he no longer resembled anything close to a role model. “What are your feelings on hell?” Mace asked as the darkness crept back in. If Roger turned out to be a hell-fire preacher, he might just snuff him out on the spot.

Roger could tell it was a touchy subject. “Just because I have faith in a higher power doesn’t mean I claim to have all the answers. Besides, I would never be arrogant enough to judge anyone. I don’t know what they’ve been through or what’s in their heart.”

Eyeballing him intently, Mace said, “That sounds like a pretty safe answer to me.”

For the first time, Roger spoke with some irritation. “I don’t know if I personally believe in hell, at least a physical one. It is something I won’t know until I die. I just believe that anyone that lives without God is already in hell. It is a spiritual emptiness.”

“What about evil?” Mace asked as he began to enjoy the conversation.

“I told you, I don’t have all the answers, but if everything comes from God then everything returns to God, in one way or the other.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to rewrite the Bible.” Mace’s eyes were cold, yet gleamed with playfulness. He used to love these types of conversations with Father McCann.

“I see the Bible as a guide, not a rulebook. The books in the Bible were chosen at a certain time, for certain purposes. In order to fully understand the Good Book, you would need to view it as a historical document. At the time of its writing, what was the culture of the people who wrote it? What message were they trying to convey? Who were they writing it for?”

Mace looked at him closely. Here was a man who might be able to bring back some of his humanity. A spiritual man with an open mind could lead to some great discussions and a possible change of heart. For an instant he heard Father McCann’s voice. “
Follow your heart, Mace.”
It hardened a long time ago. He wasn’t sure if it could ever soften.

“Trust those that seek the truth and doubt those who claim they found it,” Mace said slowly and reflectively, repeating the spiritual advice of Father McCann, given a long time ago. He felt comfortable as he said the words. A sense of momentary peace passed through him. “I’d like you to stay,” Mace suddenly said directly. Maybe, just maybe, he could become fully human again.

Surprised by the sudden change of heart, Roger couldn’t tell if it was so much a request as an order. “I’d love to," Roger replied, afraid at this point to disagree. "I can’t speak for all the others, but I'm pretty sure Kelly and Tom will want to.” He wasn’t so sure. At the mention of Kelly, Mace needed some questions answered. “How did she end up with you? You’re not related.”

“Her parents brought the antidote. They died in Arizona and we took her in. We couldn’t just leave her to fend for herself. She's been through hell.”

“Well, you must have a lot of patience,” Mace said sarcastically.

“She’s not that bad once you get to know her. She’s just…how should I put it?”

“A fucking pain in the ass?”

Roger couldn’t help but snicker. “Yeah, somewhat. She is just very sarcastic. It’s a protective mechanism. She tries to keep herself from getting hurt. Like I said, she'd been through a lot.”

“Well, I think you should talk to her if she’s going to be around here for any period of time. The kids around here are tough. They’ll knock her on her ass if she pops off too much.”

“Duly noted. Anything else we should know?”

“We’ll just need to keep an eye on you for a while until there is some trust. I’ll let you stay free of the prison, but don’t do anything stupid. The price will be steep.”

The look in Mace’s eyes told Roger all he needed to know. “Don’t worry, we won’t.”

“Don’t take a step out of this compound, either. There are mines and traps all over the place.”

“I was impressed by your moat,” Roger commented. “I’m surprised it’s not filled with oil.”

Mace thought he caught a hint of sarcasm. “I made sure this place is safe, or as safe as can be. We used heavy equipment to dig that trench. No need to keep it filled with oil. If needed, that moat becomes impassable.”

“Don’t you ever get worried about one of the kids getting hurt?”

“The kids sneak out all the time. They don’t know I’m aware of it. It’s good for them, though. It teaches them the terrain and how to steer clear of the mines.”

“How do they sneak out?” Roger grew more interested. Maybe Mace would spill an escape route.

“There’s a hole in the wall. I put it there myself, then covered it with a sheet of plywood. Led them straight to it one day without them knowing, then I left. Made them think it was their discovery.” Mace paused then smiled icily. “I could take you right to it, if you’d like. You wouldn’t make it more than twenty feet without getting blown apart.”

Confused, Roger asked, “Well if that’s the case, why the hell would you leave it for the kids to find?”

“I knew they’d be resourceful enough to discover a path around the mines. It was Woody’s idea. If we ever get overrun, there’s a well-hidden exit.”

To Roger, it still wasn’t making sense. “If you wanted them to know about an escape route, why not just show them?”

“Because they need to be independent thinkers and feel confident in their abilities. Plus, they're all still kids. They need secret passageways and mischief.”

“This was all Woody’s idea?”

“Yeah.” From the beginning, Mace thought it was brilliant.

“Well, what if one of the kids got blown up?”

“Then the others would learn from the mistake.”

Roger didn’t know what to say, so he thought it best to remain silent. Mace was about to get up when he thought of something. “What’s up with the other three? You don’t seem to know them very well.”

“We just met them a few weeks ago. They stay mostly to themselves. We just travel together for safety.”

Mace eyed Roger suspiciously again. “So you’re telling me you can’t vouch for them.”

Feeling the tension rise again in the room, Roger wanted to diffuse it as quickly as possible. “They haven’t done anything so far that would lead me to distrust them, but no, I can’t completely vouch for them. I do not know them.”

The infected were dead. Again.

The laws of nature could only be temporarily postponed. Death progressively stalked like an overly-obsessed lover, refusing to be rejected until the final surrender. The decomposition process was extremely fast. It waited years to finish what it started. Hovering over corrupted bodies, flies laid eggs in rotting crevices. As their offspring squirmed and fed, they absorbed bacteria containing bits of infection. In a drastic increase in growth cycles, three to four days later the transformation from larvae to fly took place. The infection became airborne yet again as the winged insects carried the disease to new locations.

As the infection spread, the effects were noticeably different. In such small amounts, it wasn’t strong enough to kill straight-out and take over the host’s nervous system. It slowly crept into the brain, feasting like a parasite on the cerebrum, targeting the left hemisphere. In some cases it started out like the flu, with very similar symptoms. In others, it remained dormant until the changes in personality started. Within several weeks, paranoia and emotional instability appeared. Before long, violent outbursts turned into murderous rages.

Most alarming was the connection each felt towards another with the same affliction. Gangs formed. With the death of the walking dead, a new danger presented itself. Only this time they could think. And plan. In San Marcos, Texas, a group of survivors started feeling ill. They thought it might be the flu…

Woody was perched on the roof of the Chapel when he spotted Mace across the compound. One of the strangers walked with him and they were actively engaged in conversation.Woody sought refuge on the roof often to keep his eye on camp activities, read anything he could get his hands on, and contemplate daily life. He wore a black wool cowboy hat low over his Mohawk. Popping up swiftly as they moved closer, Woody slid down the crude wooden ladder and landed softly on his feet. He moved to intersect them in the middle of the yard.

“Woody, I thought you should meet Roger. I’ve asked him to stay with us for awhile.” Sticking his hand out, Woody kept his features reserved.

“Hello,” Roger said as he shook Woody’s hand. He wanted to make a good impression. He wasn’t sure what might happen if the kids didn’t take to him.

Directing his attention towards Mace, Woody asked, “You trust him?”

“Too early to say,” replied Mace, checking Roger out. “If it doesn’t work out, we could just do the usual.”

“The usual works for me. Do we still have that good barbecue sauce?”

“Ran out after the last batch of visitors.”

Looking over Roger, Woody shook his head. “Too bad. He looks kinda bland.”

Mace and Woody exchanged a brief chuckle before Mace put his hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We cured them of cannibalism a few years back.”

Momentarily speechless, Roger thought humor might help ease his discomfort. “Well, at least I’m not Chinese. You’d be hungry an hour later.”

Mace erupted with laughter, while Woody didn’t get it. “I think you just might fit in here,” Mace responded with a rare smile.

To Roger, the smile still appeared sinister. Not sure if that was a good thing or not, he replied, “We really want to be able to contribute. It would be nice to have a place to call home again.”

Woody shot a quick glance at Mace. “We need to talk,” Mace said as he noticed Woody’s expression. “There are some developments you need to hear about.” Mace motioned towards the barracks and addressed Roger. “Your friends are at the jail. Go there and tell Crockett I said to let them loose. Stay together and don’t leave the gates. I’ll send somebody to show you to your rooms in a while.”

Looking nervously around the compound, Roger felt suddenly insecure. “Are you sure they’re just going to let me walk around here?”