Terry W. Ervin (2 page)

“Better than salt,” Guzzy said, grinning. “Got any Crusader-blessed weapons?”

“Sure,” said Road Toad in jest. “Got a Crusader saint-blessed sword, but curse my luck, I left it back at the Wicked Candle.” Guzzy and Road Toad drew the attention of nearby soldiers with their muffled laughter.

Road Toad caught my ear by mentioning the tavern my father called unsavory. I’d walked past it many times, always lacking enough coin to drink. “You were in Pine Ridge, then,” I said. “When? How’s things there?”

“You’re from there,” assessed Road Toad. “He removed his helmet and rubbed his beard stubble. “No young men. Your tavern there was empty except for old women and even older men.” He slid on his helmet and pointed at the bloated zombie finger I’d hacked from the hand earlier. It wriggled forward, through a patch of weeds and into the flickering torchlight. “They’re organized and moving again. Captain’ll order the advance any minute.”

I took a quick drink from my waterskin and a few bites of stale bread.

Guzzy winked at me. “You’re learning. Never start a fight with a dry throat or empty stomach.”

I reached into my pouch and sprinkled a pinch of salt on the animated finger. It stiffened and remained still.

Road Toad spread grease from a round tin on his sword’s blade before salting it. Then he smeared some of the yellow grease along the shaft of my spear, just below the cross guard. “Good ash shaft,” he said, tucking away his tin. “Grease’ll foil a zombie’s grip.”

Captain Plarchett climbed to our side of the gully. “Black Mule Company, we will advance two hundred yards into the woods, four stride intervals between picket teams. Torch bearers remain ten yards to the rear. Fillers, with me. I’ll direct you to plug any breech.” He looked back at a dozen mercenaries with the wizard preparing to light a large bonfire. “We’ll fall back here where Lesser Wizard Morgan can support us.”

Our captain drew his long sword, its blade caught the flickering torchlight. “Black Mule Company, prepare javelins. We will break up their lines on my order.” He pointed his sword toward the darkness beyond the torchlight’s reach. “Advance!”

Road Toad seemed to leap out of the gully while Guzzy and I clambered out. For me the advance order no longer carried the excitement it had three days ago. Our line advanced cautiously. I observed every fallen log and low hanging limb, occasionally chancing a glance over my shoulder to establish a planned line of retreat. Even with the woods and men around me I felt in the open and exposed.

Road Toad observed my efforts. “Wise move. What’s your name?”

“Krish,” I said, before nodding toward my cousin. “Guzzy.”

“I’m honored to be a part of your picket, Krish. I could’ve drawn much worse.”

Guzzy chuckled. “So could’ve we.”

“Make your line,” ordered the captain. “Prepare first javelin volley.”

I caught the sickening stench before I spotted a wall of movement among the trees, just within the edge of what the filtered moonlight and blazing torches managed to illuminate. “That’s got to be an awful lot of them,” I said, hefting my javelin. “Road Toad, you ever seen that many?”

“Can’t say that I have. Not from this angle.” The mercenary licked his teeth and cocked back to throw one of his javelins. “Least it’ll be hard to miss.”

The entire company hurled a javelin volley on the captain’s order. Most hit. No matter where the blessed weapon’s tip struck, the shambling corpse fell like a dropped sack of wheat.

“We don’t have enough javelins,” I said, having loosed my only one.

“The trees’ll break up their numbers,” said Road Toad. “Crouch down, Krish. After you throw your second javelin, Guzzy, do the same.”

“Why?” asked Guzzy. “We ain’t cowards.”

“Second volley…now!” shouted the captain. Another two dozen zombies dropped.

I knelt, while Road Toad squatted, his long legs bent like a frog’s. He yanked on Guzzy’s trousers. “Down now or this won’t work.”

Guzzy grudgingly complied. “What won’t work?”

Road Toad readied his round shield. In the flickering torchlight I spotted many dents and upon it. Guzzy slipped a forearm through the strap of his shield. I readied my spear.

“See, Sir Guzzy,” said Road Toad, “if we appear less of a target, fewer will come at us.” He hurried his speech to cut off Guzzy’s reply. “Then we can punch through and take them from behind. Only way we have a chance.”

Salt caused zombies pain but they feared nothing. The only way we could stop this size horde was with blessed weapons and we’d expended all of ours. “There’s too many,” I said, estimating that they outnumbered us ten-to-one, even after the javelins.

Captain Plarchett must have read my mind as the zombie horde closed to twenty yards. “Black Mule Company!” he called. “Fall back to the gully.”

We retreated through the trees in formation at a trot. The zombies increased their shambling gait. “Double-time, with me,” shouted the captain, waving his sword and pointing the way.

I followed Road Toad as he weaved through the trees, high stepping over fallen logs and brush. Men grunted as they tripped over maple roots or bumped into low hanging branches. Our formation tightened as we retreated.

There were so many zombies, more than the other nights and fewer of us. Running from them felt like the right thing to do. We’d be ordered to turn and fight soon enough and instinct cried out for me to keep running when that happened.

I wouldn’t flee the battle. I’d stand with Guzzy and face the enemy once again.

“With me, men!” the captain shouted. “Toward the fire.” He pointed with his sword. “Cross the ravine and make our stand.”

The wizard, along with the soldiers who’d stayed behind, had a large fire blazing. Embers swirled around the flames and rose into the hickory branches above. The zombie horde had fallen fifty yards behind, but hadn’t stopped.

Southwestern United States

2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

“Dr. Johnston, are all preparations complete? Do all systems check?”

Dr. Simeon Johnston double checked several screens, and observed the nods of his lab assistants. “They are, Dr. Mindebee. We are ready to proceed.”

“Excellent,” said Dr. Mindebee, struggling not to rub his hands together in anticipation. “Initiate primary sequence.”

Several assistants sprang into action, tapping away at their console keyboards.

Dr. Johnston wandered across the lab, examining screen readouts. “Primary sequence initiated,” he said. “All readings are stable and within normal range. Magnetic containment field approaching full strength.”

Dr. Mindebee double checked the primary and backup recording systems. He smiled. “Warm up the laser. Prepare to bombard the plasma with alpha, beta and gamma rays.” He gave a thumbs-up to the military observer.

The Lt. Colonel acknowledged and, over a secured line, informed the Pentagon, “Operation Alice in Wonderland is a go.”

One of the assistants leaned to his partner. “Draws on three nuke power plants. Wonder if it’ll dim the lights in Las Vegas?”

“They stopped chasing us,” I said. Guzzy and Road Toad stood on either side of me and stared across the gully at the mass of undead bodies holding at the outer reaches of the bonfire’s flickering glow.

Guzzy nodded. “This ain’t good.” He slid up his helmet and wiped a sleeve across his sweating brow. “Mindless zombies shouldn’t have stopped.”

“You’re right,” said Road Toad. “There’s some souled zombies among them. Maybe even a necromancer of some skill.” He nudged Guzzy. “That barrel you stumbled over crossing the stream. There’s a cord wrapped with vines leading from it past us, and toward the wizard.”

“Oil?” I whispered. We stood ready in the center of the line with picket teams spread out to each side. I wondered if the wizard had hidden an oil-filled barrel in front of each picket.

“Been nice if they’d mentioned it to us,” grumbled Guzzy.

“Wish I still had my father’s crossbow,” I said, again watching the enemy.

“I’d rather tangle with that mess of undead than with your ol’ pappy,” said Guzzy. “Won’t matter to him that a zombie tore it from ya.”

Road Toad stared into the darkness across the gully. “That bonfire’s showing us to the enemy too well,” he mumbled, interrupting my thoughts about my father. “Krish, you some sort of marksman?”

“With a crossbow?” I asked, watching the captain send Vort and Darnard to reinforce the scouts on our right flank.

“Best shot around Pine Ridge,” said Guzzy. “Except for Jotey.”

“Got an idea,” Road Toad said. He backed off the line and approached our captain. After exchanging salutes, they conferred and Road Toad sprinted toward the reserve ranks.

“Well,” said Guzzy, “that makes me feel better. Wonder what he’d have done if I told’em you fancied yourself a healer?”

“Hush,” I said between clenched teeth. “They find out and you know where they’ll send me?” I shot my cousin a short, nasty stare. I wanted to look back and see where Road Toad had gone, but I was afraid of turning my back to the enemy.

“Men,” shouted Captain Plarchett, “withdraw from the trench five paces.” When we had, the captain ordered, “Gray Mule Company move forward. Join Black Mule and reinforce the line.”

When fresh militia troops formed up with us, Road Toad appeared among them. “Here, Krish,” he said handing me a crossbow already cocked and fitted with a long bolt. “Our wizard’s going to start some trouble.” He handed Guzzy a fresh javelin. “Sir Guz, help me spot the organizer behind their line. We’ll toss these, along with a few others behind us, and Krish, you be right on him.”

I looked over the crossbow as best I could in the flaring firelight. It felt like oak, same as my father’s, but this one had an iron prod, whereas my father’s had been wooden. “I can’t be accurate first shot,” I said, wondering if Road Toad really expected his plan to succeed.

A basket-sized, flaring ball of fire arced over our heads toward the enemy line, then burst. Seven fist-sized flaming balls dove like ospreys on fish. Seven zombies staggered forward as the flames burned into them.

“There!” said Road Toad. “See?”

A dark-robed man observed the burning zombies and motioned with a wave of his skull-tipped staff, summoning three hulking zombies to him.

Guzzy grunted, “Right,” as I raised my crossbow and took aim, elevating for distance while estimating wind.

As the necromancer strode further away, the three large zombies retreated with him, covering his back. I estimated lead as Guzzy and Road Toad hurled their javelins, along with a number of soldiers behind us. I exhaled and firmly compressed the trigger. The hail of seven javelins fell, taking down two of the three zombies. The third ran on for several steps before dropping.

“Good shooting, Krish,” said Road Toad, patting me on the back.

“I missed the necromancer,” I said, realizing I’d dropped the third zombie.

“True,” laughed Road Toad, “but how often do you get to see a necromancer run? And, Sir Guz, I think you pierced one with your javelin.”

Guzzy grinned from ear to ear. “He won’t be up near the front any time soon.” Then my cousin’s smile disappeared. “Here they come.”

I slung the empty crossbow across my back and gripped my spear. Road Toad urged the fresh zombie picket team to our right to stand firm. Guzzy, to my left adjusted his shield, and warned, “They’ve got some awful big rocks.” About half the horde carried stones the size of watermelons.

“Advance to the trench,” ordered the captain. “Javelin throwers, salt and target stone carriers.”

The zombies had reached a shambling trot, even those hefting stones. The horde now numbered at least three-hundred. Silent, except for the slapping of feet in the damp ground, the horde spread out as it closed. Captain Plarchett ordered javelins thrown an instant before the zombies tossed. One nearby soldier fell, crushed by a hurled stone. With frightening ease the zombies scrambled down and in mass began climbing up the slick gully walls.

I steadied myself for the rotting stench. My first spear thrust caught an animated corpse in the shoulder, knocking it back into three horde members below. Guzzy hacked the arm off one before kicking it in the chest, sending it tumbling back. It, like mine, would come at us again, but crippled with painful, salt-filled wounds.

Road Toad’s sword flashed, severing the head of one foul-smelling corpse, and a second he smashed downward with his shield. Already, they’d dragged one of the picket team members to our right into the gully and began pummeling him to death. I tried to ignore his screams, thankful it wasn’t me and rammed my spear into the chest of a new opponent.

It fell back in pain, but in less agony than the first. The salt on my spear tip was nearly spent. A fresh javelin wave flew overhead, answered by large stones and logs landing among our ranks.

The sound of combat was all one-sided. The zombies fought in silence, except for the thuds their fists made when they connected with shields, armor, or a soldier’s flesh. The living, on the other hand, yelled warnings, shouted in anger and frustration, or screamed in agonized terror.

I’d crippled three more zombies while Guzzy chopped down four with his axe and Road Toad managed to dismember six. Few teams fought as well as us. Most struggled to simply keep the enemy at bay, forcing Captain Plarchett to order reserves into the line. Already the horde had dragged a third of Black and Gray Mule Company into its midst.