No Mere Zombie: Deathless Book 2 (19 page)

Irakesh was right. Trevor could see the werewolf now, her black fur a stark contrast against the blue sky. She held a spear of some kind and was jabbing at the zombies clustered around the truck. Her companions were all humans in camouflage fatigues. Each had a rifle, but none were firing. Made sense. Bullets were going to become very scarce in the near future. Let the werewolf do the work unless they got into trouble.

“Trevor, handle the men. Kill them and devour the bodies. Leave the Ka-Ken for Cyntia, she will gain great strength from consuming her,” Irakesh instructed. He turned that awful gaze Trevor’s way.

“We could just pass them by. If we’re being pursued, confrontations like this could reveal our presence,” Trevor suggested. More to save these people’s lives than because he feared discovery. Hell, he welcomed discovery. The more time he spent with Irakesh the more certain he became that the deathless had to be stopped. If only he could do that himself.

“It was neither a request, nor a suggestion. You will enact my will, thrall,” Irakesh growled, eyes flaring an evil shade of green. Trevor felt something hot wash over him, seeping into his nerves. The sensation was becoming all too familiar and it made him grind his teeth. Irakesh could yank him about like a puppet, working with the strange voice to keep Trevor a prisoner in his own body. “The strength we will gain here more than outweighs potential discovery. Besides, the time will soon come when you and Cyntia are powerful enough to help me destroy the Ka-Dun Isis sent after us.”

For now he imposes his will on you through domination. In time your strength will grow and you will be able to resist his influence. He is well trained, but young. You will eclipse him, but you must be patient. He must not see you as a threat until it is too late.

Trevor didn’t respond to the strange voice, instead nodding to Irakesh and focusing on the road ahead of him. He didn’t know what the voice was and it confused the hell out of him. One moment it was working with Irakesh, the next offering advice on how he could backstab the bald monster.
 

He guided the Bronco to a stop near the semi. The people on top had noticed their arrival and were snatching up rifles. None made a threatening move. Cyntia gave a growl and began to shift. She planted both powerful legs against her door and kicked with all that incredible strength. The door popped off like a cork from a champagne bottle, slamming into a nearby Focus with a tremendous clatter.

Trevor massaged his temples. “Couldn’t you have just opened it?”

Cyntia leapt out, charging towards the semi before Trevor could even open the door. Why was he the one who’d ended up on team crazy?
 

He flipped the latch and rolled out the door, coming up in a crouch. They hadn’t seen him. He dove forward, rolling into the shadow cast by the semi. Then he was gone, form melting into the mass of zombies still milling about the semi. He needn’t have bothered after Cyntia’s showy entrance. The men’s rifles vomited slugs in her direction, sharp cracks stinging his ears as they all fired. It was so different than when he had ear protection at the range. Especially with his dramatically enhanced hearing.

Then Cyntia was gone, melting into the shadows just as he had. The black furred female spun around, scanning the area for her opponent. Neither she nor her three companions seemed sure what to do. Perhaps they hadn’t encountered anyone who could shadow walk. Cyntia had received instruction from Liz and maybe the Mother herself. It afforded her an unfair edge against this poor werewolf. Pity. It all but guaranteed the midnight’s death.
 

Your compassion is a weakness. Bury it. The Ka-Ken's death will bring your ally strength. If you wish to be free of your master, you will require her aid.

Trevor dropped a hand to his .45, flicking the catch on the holster with his thumb. He eased the weapon from the black leather as he waited for Cyntia to appear. A moment later she burst from the shadows behind the poor female, shredding her throat with razored claws even as she bit down on the spine. Cyntia’s victim crumpled, drawing the eyes of all three men.

Now.

He leapt skyward, giving a slight forward spin to compensate for the recoil. Trevor sighted down the metal sights, aligning the barrel with the first man’s forehead. Then he blurred, constricting the trigger like a boa. It coughed a round, which punched through the bridge of the surprised victim’s nose. His weapon aligned with the second target and he constricted again. The second round took his target through the throat, exiting through the spine. The third target he cored through the heart, which beat loudly enough to make it an easy target.

Trevor landed on the edge of the semi as all three men collapsed, twitching involuntarily as their bodies realized the truth. They were already dead.
 

“Well done,” Irakesh called, stepping from the vehicle. An alarmingly predatory grin spread across his face. “Look. Cyntia has already finished her meal. It will make her strong.”

Trevor turned towards her. There weren’t even bones left, at least not that he could see. Cyntia licked a piece of gore from her muzzle, giving him the single most alarming smile he’d ever seen. She was drenched in gore, eyes wild and bestial. Then she dropped to her haunches and began to feed on the first human. He wanted to be sick, but instead felt the most awful hunger.
 

Trevor dropped to his knees and began to feed on the first man, face mercifully obscured by the bullet’s entry wound. He started with the brain, always the most important part. The man would have memories that could prove useful, and devouring his mind would strengthen Trevor.
 

The rush came. Countless fragments stormed through him, bits of memory. A wife and child, brutally killed during the initial outbreak. A new friend, dead beside him. Wait, what was that? He chased down a distant image, an old thought. Expertly guiding a Cessna into an S-turn.
 

“Irakesh,” Trevor called, wiping gore from his chin. “This is it. The man was a highly experienced pilot. I think I can fly us once we reach Panama.”

“Excellent,” Irakesh said, a wide grin splitting his too handsome face. “All we need do is ensure we are uninterrupted long enough to find this nuclear device and one of these wonderful aircraft I see in my new memories. You shall be rewarded, thrall. Watch with care. I would have you master this ability. It will serve us well in the days to come.”

Irakesh blurred, suddenly standing next to Trevor on top of the semi. He closed his eyes, extending both arms, fingers splayed into the breeze. Trevor felt something. A gathering energy crackling just past the edge of sight, something electric he couldn’t quite see. It gathered around Irakesh and then pulsed outwards, a finger’s breadth beyond hearing or sight.

Every shambling corpse stopped. They slowly turned to face Irakesh, then took a step towards him in unison. They shuffled towards the semi with single-minded purpose. Just the way
he
had on the day Irakesh had ensnared him. What was it that his master had just done?

He sent out an energy pulse. The mindless will do anything to feast on such pure energy, so they seek it at all costs. Once they are close they will be within range of his blood and he will dominate them.

I can do this, too?
Trevor thought. The scientist in him was fascinated. It had to be signal-based. Even light was a wave, which was just a form of signal. Irakesh was somehow broadcasting a powerful signal.
 

It is a simple thing, easily mastered. One of the pillars of deathless power, the ability to gather an army. All deathless of note have many such thralls. With so many nascent deathless this power will be even more vital in this age. Learn it well, for once you have freed yourself you will need it to establish your own power base.

At least twenty zombies had already gathered. More appeared from the thick trees on the side of the road. Still others down both sides of the road. They were coming from all directions. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.

“What are you going to do with them?” Trevor asked. He was positive that he didn’t want to know, but he couldn’t bear not knowing, either.

“I can feel the Ka-Dun in that direction, perhaps two or three miles away. I will send every deathless we encounter to stop him.”

Chapter 31- Steve

Jordan eyed Bridget and Blair chatting in low tones in the corner of the pavilion. Bridget was giving one of those coy smiles, letting her hair screen her face. Four feet to their right a very agitated Liz-wolf tried to pretend like she wasn't watching them.

Yup, Jordan definitely missed Mohn professionalism. He shifted his attention back to Doctor Roberts, who thumped the table with each point in his tirade.

“Mohn orchestrated the entire incident at the pyramid. They led us there like lambs to a slaughter; that cannot be denied. They allowed scientists and artists to explore a site that they knew to be dangerous. I watched Alejandro get torn apart.
I
was torn apart,” Roberts barked, eyes searing everyone. He leaned forward looking right at Jordan. “You were the head honcho. The guy at the top. You knew what was going on there, knew about the werewolves and the radiation. All of it. You let our team get slaughtered for your personal crusade. Now you expect me to simply allow you to walk out of here as if nothing had transpired? I’m not going to do that, Mr. Jordan. I’m going to have you executed.”

Jordan was still considering a response when Blair spoke.

“No, you’re not,” Blair said, turning from Bridget to face the doctor. The words were quiet. So quiet Jordan may not have heard them without his enhanced hearing. He watched as Blair took three very deliberate steps towards the desk, eyes locked on Roberts. “If you try, we’ll have to resist and that will end very, very badly for your people.”

“What the hell happened to you, Smith? You should be on my side. He betrayed us all. They murdered the world, man. How can you not see that? You, of all people,” Roberts asked, rising to meet Blair’s advance. This was going south. Quickly. Still, his interference would solve nothing. Roberts might listen to Blair. Maybe.

“I
am
on your side, Roberts,” Blair said, planting both hands on the table. Only a foot separated the two men now. “Mohn has a lot to answer for, more than you can possibly know. Jordan here hunted me all the way to San Diego and blew up the house of a very good friend. He fought to the end to keep us from waking the Mother and trust me when I say we very much need her if we’re going to save anything of humanity.”

“You’re not helping his case,” Roberts snarled, jerking his head towards Jordan. “Hell, you’re admitting he’s the problem.”

“Was,” Blair shot back, gaze unflinching. Jordan was pleased to see him showing some steel. “When the Mother woke she slaughtered three hundred Mohn personnel in a matter of minutes. Jordan was one of the first casualties. He rose from the dead just like we did. He’s one of us now, for better or worse. The fact is he’s been invaluable. His military expertise has saved our asses more than once and it’s very much needed if we’re going to stop the thing we’re chasing.”

The angry-looking blonde ducked through the tent flap, looking directly at Roberts. “Medico, we’ve got a problem. Team four didn’t report back, so we sent out a team to investigate. They found traces of a fight. Shots fired. There was blood everywhere, but they said they couldn’t find any bodies.”

“Did they have any other details?” Roberts asked, shooting Jordan a look that promised this wasn’t over. “Send the scout in. Now.”

“Sure, I’ll grab him. One sec,” she said, ducking back out. She returned a moment later with a skinny teen in tow, baggy shorts stained black from use. “This is Fiero. He was the lead scout. Fiero, tell the Medico what you saw.”

“It was awful, sir,” the boy said, ducking his head to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze. “There was blood all over the top of the semi. And these scratches, sir, like from claws. But there weren't any bodies. I think they were eaten, sir. Maybe by zombies, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense. They’d have gotten away. Yselda can kill a whole pack of zombies. She would have gotten away. She’d have gotten them out.”

“Did this happen a little ways north?” Blair interrupted, looking directly at the boy. “Maybe four or five kilometers?”
 

“Yes, about four, I think. Out there on the freeway. It’s the farthest north we patrol, towards the border with Panama,” he explained, darting quick glances at Blair as he spoke.

“Did you find any shell casings?” Jordan broke in, leaning forward in his chair. He hoped the gesture made him slightly less intimidating.
 

“Yes, sir,” the boy said, darting a single look Jordan’s way and then dropping his gaze. “We found three bullets.”

“Did you find the rounds, or just the shell casings?” Jordan asked, steepling his fingers and resting his elbows on the table in front of him.

“Both, sir. I’ve got them right here,” he reached into his pocket and extended a dirty hand. “Here you go, sir. I wasn’t sure what to make of them.”

“Three bullets from a .45 caliber pistol,” Jordan said, examining one of the shells. He held it up so they could all see that the entire front had flattened. “This one probably fired into the skull, judging by the round. It punched through the bone and into the brain, killing him instantly. This second one might have been fired into the heart. See how it’s only flat on one side? Probably hit a rib on the way in. The third one looks just like the first, so probably another head shot. Someone executed those people with extreme precision at close range. Then they ate the bodies, because otherwise these bullets would still be lodged in their victims.”