Empire Of The Undead (25 page)

CHAPTER XXVII

Italy: 89 CE, Early Spring

“If I ever,” grumbled Iullianus, “get out of this alive, I will live somewhere with no mud. Be it the hottest desert or the bottom of the ocean, I will make my way there and call it home.”  His feet and legs were caked with dark wet earth. That wasn't so bad. Each night they had to sleep on the least muddy patch of ground and he woke in the mornings to find mud in his mouth and ears. He was surprised each morning when he took his morning piss and no mud came from his cock. Each day he thought he was as filthy as possible, and each successive day proved him wrong.

“I’d happily live in mud, if it had neither the lifeless nor any Romans,” Rowanna answered. They had waded through waist-deep mud in some parts, as the rains continued ceaselessly throughout the miserable spring. Iullianus scowled in concentration as he scraped more of the caked earth from his boots. It was a futile gesture, but it made him feel better to be doing something. He did this every night, to Rowanna’s amusement. She more readily accepted her current state.

The mud had slowed them down, but it was the Romans that had sent them into hiding. They had found their first patrol several days ago, and had approached them carefully. The centurions had attacked them without questions, despite their protestations of life.

Iullianus had killed three of them before he and Rowanna had managed to escape. Since then, they had done everything they could to avoid the patrols. It was growing harder. They were everywhere, and they were not looking for survivors. Not only were crops being burnt, but so too were entire forests. The villages they had marched into were deserted or burnt out. They avoided even other living villagers, as they were just bait waiting for whichever type of doom would be the first to find them.

“It makes sense,” Iullianus said, only half-aware that he spoke out loud.

“Moving somewhere with no mud?” asked Rowanna, her eyes closed. “I thought you said you didn’t enjoy living in desert.”  She was thoroughly soaked and shaking from the cold. Her hair plastered against her face reminded him of the first time he had seen her.

“I didn’t, but I meant the Romans. They’re killing everyone.”

“That’s what they do,” she said quietly.

Iullianus laughed a little. “Yes, who better suited for this catastrophe but the most heartless Empire that ever existed?  Still, it’s rather inconvenient for us. They’ve given up on killing the lifeless, or only killing the lifeless. They’ve gone for their enemies supply lines. The living.”

“You mean they’re not just heartless bastards, they’re heartless bastards who are also quite ruthless?” Rowanna asked.

“Indeed. It is what I would do,” Iullianus said. “I wonder who is commanding them. At any rate, it does us few favors. We stay near the roads, and the Romans get us. We head into the countryside, and the mud slows us long enough for the lifeless to find us. We’ll never reach Rome.”

“Without the cure, we have no role to play there,” she said.

“It’s a pity we came to Italy at all. It would be nice to let the Romans and lifeless slaughter each other without us getting caught in the middle. At this rate, I worry more about their patrols than I do the walking dead. Though, it is odd. I cannot find which legion it is. I had thought I might perhaps know the commander.”

“They are smarter, and quicker,” she said. “It is hard for Dacians to understand how ruthless they are.”  She lay down on the wet ground and withdrew a large cloak they had confiscated from a dead farmer. It smelled of the grave and had bloodstains that no amount of washing would remove, but it was large and was the best blanket they had found. "I suppose you can't find an Empire by accident."

“This I understand all too well,” Iullianus said. “The only thing that has saved my people is how far away we are from Rome. They have to cross Gaul, sail across the sea, and march up Britannia just to engage us. And they’ve still managed to enslave half my country.”

He normally didn’t discuss his past, but Rowanna was easy to talk to. Furthermore, they both knew that either of them could be dead or worse by tomorrow. It was not freezing, not like it would be in either of their countries this early in the spring. Nevertheless, it was cold enough and wet enough that they relied on each other’s body heat every night. They occasionally had sex, but often were too exhausted from the day’s efforts of survival to summon the requisite energy.

“Your people,” Rowanna murmured. She leaned into the big man and wrapped her arm around his chest. “I think they are not unlike mine.”

He felt like there must be some fundamental difference, but he could not articulate why. “I suppose we are. We have no cities or forts such as you. I suppose we are less civilized.”

“If Rome represents civilization, then that can only be a good thing.”

“Rome represents one kind of civilization. The Greeks, the Egyptians, the Brigantes, these were all very different. Though, it is not lost on me that all, ultimately fell before the Romans. It is ironic, however, that the qualities that make the Romans real buggers help them to save the world from the lifeless menace.”

Rowanna said nothing. She was asleep already. He envied her that ability—it was not easy for him to sleep, and then it was only a half-sleep at best. He was too cautious, too wary of menaces that could approach in the night. Dark dreams plagued him and visions of bloody flesh filled his sleeping mind.

She had suggested sleeping in trees, but there were few remaining since the Romans had burned the world. The copse they currently rested under had only slim corkwood trees. These provided some protection from the rain, but a child would be too heavy to climb them.

He lay there, eyes closed for several moments until he was sure that she was asleep. Then he rose and moved away from her. Squatting on his heels, he stared out into the night. The stars were hiding behind the clouds, of course, but he could see a glowing hint of the moon. He had tried to honor his promise to Lepidus, but this was beyond foolish. Only luck had kept them alive for this long. They needed to get out of Italy. Even captured by slavers or pirates would be better than this.

He listened carefully. It was quiet. The lifeless could not move without groaning and moaning, and the Romans and their horses were even louder. He was horrified by the thought of waking up, surrounded by enemies, and each night it didn’t happen, made him think that it was only that more likely the next time.

They had to make for the sea. Tarentum was not far—even at their crawling pace they could be there before the end of the month. From there, anything could happen—they could perhaps sail to Egypt or Iberia. It was the right decision. He sighed as tension that he hadn’t realized existed, fled away into the dark night sky.

He rejoined Rowanna, and pulled her warm body tightly next to his. In the cold spring rain, on the cold spring ground, surrounded by cold enemies, he slept.

He opened his eyes and found the world had withered away. Rowanna was nowhere to be seen, and broken, cracked earth stretched before him as far as the eye could see. He took an unsteady step forward, but his body ached with a heavy inertia and it was only with great effort that he moved at all. A distant but insistent hunger reached for him and filled him with uneasy dread.

In the distance something green shone. Not a tree, though he could not be sure what it was. The green shone with a vitality that caused him to cry out. He had to see what lay there. Some of the earth chasms were so deep that he could see the fires of Hades burning below. Taking care not to cross these, he shambled forward as quickly as he could.

With infinite patience, he crossed the barren landscape. The muscles in his legs ached with fierce intensity and his back felt as though the bones were in the wrong places. Grey and yellow gasses sifted across the land on a listless wind, and the putrid stench gagged him.

At last he drew near. Planted in the earth was the largest shovel he’d ever seen. The blade was buried in swollen earth, but the handle rose far above him. Green blossoms of life sprouted from the shaft, defying the desolation with their very existence. The big man reached out to grab it, to touch it, to embrace it, and then he stopped.

He screamed, though the sound was swallowed by the wretched land. His hand was no longer his, but a monstrosity of rotting, decayed flesh. As he looked, the skin around his small finger bubbled and dripped off, leaving a jagged white bone. He reached for the shovel anyway, but it drew away from his tainted grasp and when he clenched it, the green leaves instantly withered and died.

****

They awoke before dawn, shivering in the early morning cold. This was the best time they’d found to move. The lifeless were sluggish from the chill, and the Roman patrols did not start until after the sun came up. It was hard to rise, however. Together, their clothes had mostly dried and Rowanna’s breasts were pressed comfortingly up against his own chest. The joy he’d felt the previous night was subdued but still present.

They rose and hid the signs of their presence as best they could. The lifeless were mindless, but they seemed to sense humans from afar and there was no reason to help them. And as for the Romans—if they weren’t employing trackers, they soon would be. Iullianus had little woodcraft, and Rowanna only slightly more.

They had few possessions: the weapons they carried, their cloaks, the extra cloak, and a small handful of food. Perhaps the most valuable tool they owned was his shovel, which in addition to killing the lifeless, dug privy pits, made for a walking stick, and made for a seat when the ground was too muddy. With trade blocked and fields burnt, there was little to subsist on. It was yet another reason they had to leave the peninsula, Iullianus mused. They walked along a deer trail that climbed up and down small hills as the sky slowly lit up behind the clouds. The rain continued intermittently, but it was a light spring shower that might have almost been pleasant in other circumstances.

He called a halt when they reached a small shack at the base of a bare hill. It had been modest even in its prime, and now was dilapidated from years of bad weather and neglect, but it still stood, and the roof had more wood than holes.

“Why would you build at the bottom of a hill?” Rowanna asked. “Surely you’d suffer from floods and poor lighting.”

“I know not why, but the Romans haven’t found it yet,” Iullianus said. “There may be food.”  They cautiously entered the building. It was clear. They found soggy cucumbers, grapes sour with age, and ground almonds. It did not taste good, but they feasted on it, saving only some limp vegetables for later.

“We must go,” Iullianus said. Bits of almond hung in his teeth.

“Now?” she asked. “I have not yet begun to get dry.” 

“Nor shall you. It’s a forced march today. We’ll let our feet follow the way.”  He marched out of the shack.

Rowanna followed him out in the foggy morning.

“You’ve a sense of purpose today,” she said.

“We’re heading south, to the sea,” he said. “I decided last night. You were right—we never should have come here. We can surely find a ship there and journey to somewhere without lifeless, Romans, or mud.”

She stared at him for a moment. He knew her well enough to realize that she was not happy. “We have no money. The ports are closed, regardless. It seems like a great deal of trouble, with little chance of success,” she said.

“The large ports will be closed, undoubtedly, but there will be hundreds of bays and harbors too small to patrol. We don’t need a large craft, not with summer coming,” he answered. “And we have no choice. If we don’t escape this, we will both die. Sooner, probably, rather than later.”

"I’d almost rather die than get back on a ship,” she said.

Iullianus laughed, louder than he wanted to. She smiled at him, a little reluctantly. “I mean it,” she said. “I’d perhaps rather stay here than board another mobile
vomitorium
.”

“At least this time you won’t have any food to vomit up.”

“That’s a depressingly optimistic way to look at things.”

“It’s what I do best.”  His smile was meant to be charming but it faded almost instantly.

“Did you hear that?” Rowanna asked. Her hands were already reaching for the
pilum
strapped to her back.

“Silence,” he answered, crouching slightly. He swiveled his head and listened intently.

A low groan reached them.

“By Mithras,” he hissed. Slowly, with deliberate care, he drew his blades.
Efossion
stayed clasped on his back. Rowanna had the spear before her and she twisted to face the direction they’d come. Good instincts, he thought. He had not taught her that.

Both of them froze, hoping not to attract the notice of the lifeless, but more groaning sounded.

“They’re all around us,” Rowanna whispered.

Iullianus scanned the land. It was bleak and dark, covered in grey clouds. He could not see a thing. The sounds were strangely muffled in the eerie fog. They sounded from all directions.

“Maybe we should go back inside,” Rowanna said.

“No, we need to see what’s coming.”  An idea struck him. “I need the high ground. Stay here, and yell when they arrive.”  The red-haired man looked carefully at the building.