Undead Genesis: Zombie (4 page)

“This potion is not for the warrior or his
son. It is for you in case something unforeseen happens and the
larvae enter your body. If you need it, drink the entire bottle,”
he was told. “Do not throw it up afterwards.”

When the light returned the next morning
Marik noticed the warrior’s body had wasted away even further
during the night. He questioned if the man would be physically able
to walk even if he was given the chance to escape.

As Marik approached to offer the man a drink,
he noticed the man’s eyes were intense, yet fearful. They stared
penetratingly, and pleaded for release. Even though the body was
decimated, the eyes showed complete comprehension.

“Please,” the man begged. “Please. I cannot
bear it.”

At the moment the man said this it was as if
he gave up his resistance. The will to fight back the screams was
gone and the man released a shriek that hurt Marik’s ears. The boy
involuntarily jumped back in fear, nearly biting his tongue. He
momentarily felt pity for the man, and then remembered watching his
father die.

Behind him the man’s son started yelling.
“Let him go… Please… Please.”

He turned to see the son. The boy was wracked
with sobs. Each uncontrollable spasm cut off his air causing him to
choke and gasp.

Marik smiled for the first time since the
battle and inside his mind something innocent was shattered.

The rest of the day was loud. The shaman had
instructed Marik to bring a long piece of cloth to wrap around his
head to cover his ears and muffle the noise. He wrapped the cloth
around his head enough times to help alleviate the headache he had
developed, but still allow him to hear the screams.

~ Chapter IX
~

Late in the day the screams suddenly
decreased in volume. The shrieks had become such a constant source
of sound that the reduction of noise woke Marik from his other
thoughts.

Walking over to the warrior, Marik noticed
blood was now bubbling from his mouth. He choked and sputtered with
uncontrollable gag reflex. The blood ran steadily to the floor
where it pooled.

He continued to watch. The man could neither
suck in any air, nor stop his body from constantly trying to draw
it in. The relentless sensation of choking to inhale oxygen his
body no longer needed must have been excruciating.

“So much blood,” Marik thought.

As he watched mesmerized, a pulsing lump
developed on the warrior’s neck. It pushed out until finally one of
the larvae, now covered red with blood, slowly broke through the
skin. It fell to the floor and crawled underneath the man’s body in
between two of the bamboo poles where it stopped and lay still.

Marik knew it was time for the next step. The
suffering could go on for a long time if he chose to let it, but
the traditional ways called for the anguish to end for an honorable
adversary. If it were up to him, the man’s son would not be as
fortunate.

He picked up the knife the shaman had left.
As the terrified man’s eyes watched, Marik attempted to make a
small cut deep inside the warrior’s ear. This proved to be
difficult with the involuntary spasms the man was having. The cut
ended up being deeper than he had been shown it should be, but
Marik doubted it would make a difference.

He picked up the wooden box and removed the
last of the larvae from it. The man’s eyes opened wide with terror
as the pulsating white parasite got close. As soon as Marik placed
it on the ear, the worm moved deep into the cut. According to the
shaman, it would not take long to make its way into the brain.

The light was quickly fading. Within an hour
darkness overwhelmed the three figures in the hut. One, secured to
the floor and continuing to spasm in excruciating pain. One
suffering silently, using all of his energy to keep from choking.
One sleeping soundly with his head wrapped tightly.

~ Chapter X
~

When Marik woke he lay silently listening for
sounds. There was nothing. It was too dark when he opened his eyes
to see anything. He unwrapped the cloth from around his head.
Still, nothing.

He lay trying to allow his eyes to adjust.
Listening closely, he found he could hear the first subtle hints of
everyday morning life going on outside his enclosure.

By the lack of sound he knew the ordeal was
over for the warrior, but he wondered why he was unable to hear any
breathing from the other prisoner.

The light slowly strengthened. The dark
yielded, exposing deep shadows, but there was no movement.

Marik shuffled over to drink a cup full of
water. Still no noise. Still no movement.

He moved closer to the middle support where
the son was tied.

“No,” he exclaimed in a whisper.

The young man’s head was bent forward at a
severe angle. The body leaned away from the pole. He either had not
been able to stay upright to keep from choking, or he made a
conscious decision not to live.

“No!” Much louder this time.

He felt along the walls in the semi-darkness
until he found the door. He pushed with all his might until the
outer barrier gave way and the door opened.

The light was much stronger outside. Marik
stayed upright long enough to notice the shaman in a kneeling
position a few steps away, then he collapsed in front of the old
man.

“I have failed. The son is dead.”

The shaman whispered a question, “and the
father?”

“I did all you instructed. He is dead
also.”

“Then you have not failed.”

The boy started weeping silently. “The son
must suffer. He cannot be gone. My father…”

“Your father has gone. This cannot be
changed.”

“His killer must suffer, he must give up his
spirit, or my father will not leave to be with the ancestors.”

The shaman sat silently while the boy
struggled with his pain.

Marik composed himself. He looked up and
said, “You must bring him back. He must feel the sting of the
bondai fly.”

“If I bring him back, he won’t feel the
pain.”

“My father’s spirit must be released.”

“The bondai flies will soon be released. They
have fed on the enemy. You father will go with them.”

“No,” Marik insisted. “It is not enough. The
killer must be consumed, and then he will be set free.”

“He will be a monster if I bring him back. He
will only live to kill.”

Marik stared resolutely at the reluctant old
man.

The shaman was quiet for a long time. He
bowed his head and his lips moved soundlessly. Finally, he lifted
his head.

“Go back inside. Untie the son from the post.
Gather the larvae that have emerged from the father. Clean the
mess, but do not move the warrior’s body. Close the door. Wait for
me there. I must go gather some things.”

Merik now realized he had broken the rules by
breaking the seal on the door before capturing all of the larvae.
It was extremely important to contain all of the pupae and any
flies that may hatch, not only for the safety of the tribe, but
also for the performance of traditional rituals. He rushed back
into the hut and closed the door tightly behind him.

He had not realized how horrible the stench
was when he had been trapped inside, but now upon reentering the
small enclosure he could hardly stomach the smell. Blood,
decomposing bodies, and excrement mixed to create a toxic stew of
heinousness.

It was not bright enough inside to see
details, but he was able to find the knife by feeling around over
by his sack. He cut the bindings holding both prisoners and laid
out the son’s body on the floor away from the father.

He cleaned up what he could, starting with
his own belongings which he stuffed back into his bag. As his eyes
adjusted to the darkness, and the light penetrating the leaves
increased, he was able to start using the water in the buckets and
the cloth which had been wrapped around his head to wash away much
of the congealing blood and other distasteful stains.

As the light continued to strengthen he was
able to see to roll the shrunken warrior’s body and locate five of
the larvae which had turned to pupae with hard shells. He placed
these back into the wooden box. Based on the locations he retrieved
them from, he guessed the two in the groin area were unrecovered,
as well as the one he had recently placed into the man’s ear.

~ Chapter XI
~

The shaman returned before noon. The old man
was followed by two other large men carrying a hefty box which they
set down inside the hut. It was becoming very crowded in the small
space now.

“Go find a pallet to carry this body away,”
he commanded the two men and they immediately left to do his
bidding.

“You have done well cleaning up. How many of
the larvae are still missing?”

“Three,” Marik answered.

The shaman pulled out a metal knife. It was
the only one in the village and he was extremely proud of it.
Reaching down between the warrior’s legs with his right hand he
searched by touch.

“Ah, yes, as I thought.” He reached down with
his knife and with a quick motion opened up a large incision
between the man’s legs. Even though the cuts were deep, there was
no blood. A moment later he produced two of the missing larvae
still squirming around.

“They do love it down there. Open the small
box for me,” he instructed. He placed these two in with the rest.
“They will change now that they are out.”

He next went to work on the skull. As he cut
behind the ear he instructed Marik to go into the large chest and
locate another small wooden box. It was on top.

“Where is it?” The shaman pondered as he
carefully operated. Marik at first thought he was asking about the
box, and held it out to the old man. After being ignored for a few
moments though, he realized the shaman was talking to himself while
searching for the missing larva.

“So hard to find… it looks just like the
inside of the head. Ah, there you are.”

He pulled out the last wiggling worm and
placed it into the new box.

“Close that up. It will live in there for a
long time and won’t change until it is fed again. The box is made
from wood the worms will not eat.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Marik
asked.

“You are to be my apprentice, of course,” the
shaman answered. “You have nowhere else to go and I will not be
around forever. The role of shaman will be yours. Everything
happens for a reason.”

Marik laughed, “I am a warrior. I was raised
to be a warrior like my father. It is all I want to be.”

The shaman inspected the corpse as the two
talked. “We are never in control of what the ancestors require. To
deny their request is to reject their power in your life. It is not
a life anyone wants, but once you start learning my secrets you
will change your mind.”

The young man again snickered and said, “My
father already told me my future before he was killed.”

“Yes, it was the future he wanted for you
while he was alive, but your father spoke to me last night as I
slept and made the will of the dead known. It is inevitable.”

Here he paused and walked over to the chest.
The shaman pulled out a rough blanket and draped it over the body.
When Marik did not respond he continued.

“You have a decision to make. You need to
make it quickly. If you want to bring this man back to avenge your
father you are going to have to agree to learn my ways. You must
sacrifice some of your own life force to bring someone back, and I
would not live through the process again at my age.”

Marik thought briefly before answering.
“Then, I will serve under you for my father’s sake. Where do we
begin?”

The shaman’s wrinkled face creased even more
than usual as he smiled.

“Help me drag the warrior’s body
outside.”

~ Chapter
XII ~

Later that evening, Marik watched over the
shaman’s shoulder as the old man crushed up the petals of the ransi
flower the boy had recently brought back from the top of the
forest. The shaman was explaining the process as he worked.

“We only have two days to bring him back, so
tomorrow it will have to happen. When the man comes back to life he
will no longer be human. He will attack and attempt to devour any
living animal, including us. Some of his organs will have started
to deteriorate, so he will have issues at first, but the body will
start to restore itself immediately. Since he does not have any
fatal injuries he should come back physically intact after spending
some time healing.”

“Spiritually, he will have little control. He
will feel no pain. He will be unable to plan or communicate. His
only instinct will be to attack.”

“He will be extremely strong but will not be
as coordinated as he once was. Whether this is due to a lack of
physical or spiritual ability, I do not know. He will still be able
to be killed by a fatal injury to the head. He will still require
food, water and air, but will never need to sleep.”

Marik broke into the conversation at this
point and asked, “What about the larvae? Would they sustain him or
devour him?”

The shaman considered the question. “I am not
sure. I think a more interesting question is whether the larvae
would alter him, or if he would alter the larvae. The spirit of the
ransi flower controls his actions like an illness overwhelming the
body. There is a chance the spirit from the flower will infect the
larvae as well. We must be careful before letting them escape into
the world.”

Looking through the door Marik saw a bright
fire suddenly flare in the distance.

“The father flies away to be with his
ancestors,” Marik said. “I need to make sure the son never makes
the same trip.”