The Village of Dead Souls: A Zombie Novel (39 page)

Patricia stepped over a rotted severed leg. "All the nations and lands traded goods with each other. This drove the need to build ships to bring all these products across the seas. This also brought the rise of privateers and pirates, the occupation which I chose to join."

"Even though we didn't sail across," the Athenian paused for a moment, "or I should say around this world, we also had our share of pirates on the waters. I do not recall hearing of any female pirates."

Patricia replied, "Even in my day
,
there were very few woman sailors
,
let alone lady captains. I know of only three other women who commanded their own pirate ship as I
did
.

Prometheus glanced at Patricia's face. "I see we both share the trait of green eyes. How long have you had them?"

“A few nights ago, in
the raids, I took a test bite out of one of the livings to see if he would be safe for Salsa to feed upon. Midnight said he appeared to be free of the fire. When I did not burn from the inside, Salsa and the others in her court feasted on him. The next morning
,
Bartholomew commented on my green eyes that
,
even death could not hide their beauty." She glanced down and tried to hold back a slight smile.

"The complexities of emotions after one's death are far beyond anything I could have imagined during life."

Prometheus saw Greg and several others returning from the previous nights scavenging raids in the forest. Greg
wore
a heavy canvas kilt, and a martial arts ghee with the sleeves cut off. All the soldiers appeared worn and
scarred
from a fierce night of battle. As
s
he noticed Greg carrying Bartholomew's sword, Patricia ran toward the group. She stopped in front of the Samurai and quickly asked with fear in her voice, "Why do you carry the sword of our Captain?"

Greg lowered his head and replied with sadness. "We found a small group of non-soldiers traveling the road. As we made our attack, it turned out to be a trap set for us. The living poured out of the trees and surrounded us. We were outnumbered ten to one."

She noticed all the blood splattered on the sword sheath and grip. "What happened to the Captain?"

"He led us into the battle and became the first victim. The humans had spring traps hidden in the road. One grabbed his leg with its sharp metal teeth and kept him from moving. He bravely fought off many with his sword
,
but
he
soon became overrun and his body torn apart by several pikes. We had to retreat or suffer the same fate."

Patricia asked to see the sword. After Greg handed it to her, she strapped it around her waist and asked, "Where did this attack occur?"

Greg pointed to the south and replied, "A few miles from here. The place
that
the modern's call the town of
Littleton
. But, there is nothing left of his body
, because
the humans…"

Before he could finish, Patricia ran off to the south with the Captain's blade. Greg motioned to some of his soldiers. "We must go with her."

* * *

Patricia ran through the trees with her sword drawn as she entered the small clearing occupied by a band of humans. They sat around a fire laughing and drinking
, so they were
caught completely off guard. As the first person stood to confront her, she sprang off a rock, sailed through the air and rammed her sword through his chest as she landed in front of him. With smooth quick motions, she pulled the blade out and sliced across the throat of another living. A man charged with a long wooden pike
,
which impaled through her abdomen. She ran up the shaft toward the man and with a backhand swing of her sword, she decapitated her attacker.

Greg and the other living dead soldiers poured out of the trees and a
full-fledged
battle ensued. Patricia ran through the group of humans
,
wielding her blade
,
with each swing delivering a
deathblow
to the human at the receiving end. The fight only lasted a few
minutes,
as most of the livings lay mangled on the blood soaked ground. Arms, legs, and intestines littered the clearing as the few people still alive tried to crawl away. The undead lady pirate walked up to the slow moving foes, grabbed arms and legs and bit into them
,
taking out huge chunks of flesh and muscle.

Greg warned her, "You shouldn't do that. You don't know if they have the fire inside their bodies."

"I don't care." Patricia replied with blood pouring down the sides of her mouth.

Several of the dead bodies slowly stood from the ground, some missing arms, some with intestines spilling out of their midsections. They scanned the area with confused expressions and asked, "Where am I?"

"Whose body is this?"

"How did I get here?"

"We should get back. There are military patrols in this area. Our numbers are small and we would not fair well if surrounded." Greg said
,
as he circled his hand indicating to his soldiers
that
,
he wanted them to round up the new arrivals.

Patricia stared into the trees leading away from the city. "You go back. I have
vengeance
which needs to be satisfied." She said as she ran off into the trees.

* * *

Prometheus sat on top of a large section of concrete which used to be a floor to one of the sky
scrapers,
which once proudly rose from the ground before the uprising. He took in the sight of the rising sun turning the smoke filled sky deep red. He wondered if the air felt cool or if it was humid and warm.

In the distance, he saw a lone figure walk toward him. As the light slowly increased
,
and the distance decreased, he saw it take the form of Patricia. He noticed the hole in her stomach from the pike and her dress soaked in fresh blood.
Dried blood covered every
inch of her skin and
hair,
along with her sword and
scabbard
. She walked up and stopped in front of the Athenian without saying a word. Prometheus scanned her entire body and broke the silence. "How did your vengeance go? How many descendents did you kill? You look as though you actually took a bath in blood."

"It had to be hundreds of livings. I must have fed on all the remaining humans who did not have the fire."

"Did you find peace with all this killing?"

Patricia glanced down at the hands and tried to rub the dried blood off. "No, I do not think that will ever happen in this macabre
world
. Maybe the next life will hold some happiness for me."

She turned up and looked at the Greek man. His eyes opened wide as he said, "My sister, your eyes have turned blue. You are ready to pass along your gift given to you by the gods. Perhaps you
r
next life will arrive sooner than expected."

She picked up a piece of scrap metal and polished it with the only dry part of her dress. Gazing at her reflection she replied, "I no longer care about passing this needed string of life to the living. A cure for the Omega plague will not be enough to save them at this point. I feel we are witness to the end of our world."

Behind the lady pirate, in
the distance, Prometheus saw new arrivals stagger through the rubble. With his attention toward the distant undead, he said, "It looks like your converts have followed you home."

She turned her head and quickly glanced at her victims. "Yes, the humans who I fed on trailed behind me all night. I think many are ancients who will need to be given lessons to educate them on their place in this netherworld."

Prometheus lit candles placed in crevices throughout the tunnel. The voices of the night's scavenging party echoed from the far end in the shadows. He turned in the opposite direction and cast his voice into the darkness where the candle flames did not reach. "My good sister
,
Salsa, it sounds like they have returned from their night of hunting."

Salsa emerged from the shadows into the flickering light
,
which reflected off her bright green eyes. She walked across the muddy ground with the grace of royalty wearing a blue velvet Victorian era gown, leather wrist cuffs, and a black derby with welding goggles around the brim. The sword belt around her waist also contained two daggers and a 9mm Colt handgun.

Patricia arrived first and dumped her numerous swords, daggers and other primitive weapons on the map table. Her waitress uniform had turned dark brown from all the dried blood
permeated
into the fabric. The rest of the night's soldiers staggered in behind her. Salsa asked, "Did you have any luck finding fresh meat?"

Patricia glanced back at her people and said, "You can see for yourself."

Greg and General Brown carried into the light a human man in his mid thirties, with tattered clothing and fresh blood showing through some of the tears in his shirt. His arms were tied to a wooden pike across his shoulders giving him a crucified appearance. He let out the usual evil hissing and moans with anger expressed on his face. They hung the ends of the pike on two protruding bricks on the wall of the tunnel
,
which kept his feet inches off the ground. Salsa listened to the sounds from his mouth and explained, "Oh
,
he's mad at us. He's calling us all kinds of names." She tilted toward General Brown. "He's even questioning
your
gender."

Cathy moved her way through the crowd which had gathered around the man. She lowered her welding goggles from her eyes and took off the snowboarding helmet
,
which showed signs of battle scars. Sliding off her leather bomber jacket, she stood in front of the prisoner and said, "Do you want me to do my thing with this guy?"

Salsa replied with a simple nod.

The former dominatrix grabbed one of Patricia's daggers from the table. She placed the tip in the center of the man's
armpit
pressing hard enough to create a dent in his skin
,
but not draw blood. His demon sounds continued to spill from his mouth. Salsa translated, "He's still name calling. I think you need to take him from being mad to scared."

Cathy relocated the blade from under his arm to just below his right eye. Instead of talking, the human went silent.

"There you go." Salsa said. "I think we have his attention now."

Cathy set the dagger down on the table and said, "This always confuses them." She reached out and fluttered her
fingertips
up and down his side to tickle him. His moaning took on a tone of laughter. As she continued with no hesitation, his face turned red and he gasped to take in a breath.