Resurrection (26 page)

That is when they heard the sound of approaching horses and a great cloud of dust rose up through the trees. Then the horde swept out of the forest and into sight, their great black horses, their coats gleaming and wet with foam. Enormous canines with bloodshot eyes ran ahead of the beasts.

Without warning the earth began to shake tremendously so that standing erect became nearly impossible and the ground ripped apart before the Lazarines horde. An enormous rift formed in the ground between the village and the Lazerines and their horses bucked and reared up throwing some of the riders to the ground.

“I can’t hold this for long and it is taking all that I have to hold such a great illusion. I need you to reach into my satchel and get something,” Warlock said.

Peter put his hand into the bag and pulled out a small round ball.

“There is a sling in my coat pocket pull it out and place the sphere in the sling.”

Peter did as he was instructed. “Like this?” He said.

“Yes. Now I am going to release the illusion and I want you place the sling in my hand but first push that button in and then run as fast as you can.”

Peter looked the orb over and found the small indentation and pushed it and immediately the object began to become warm up in his hand.

“Now give it to me and run like El Diablo is chasing you.”

“He is chasing us,” Peter shouted.

Then the rift in the earth disappeared surprising the Lazerines. Warlock twirled the sling above his head and then released the sphere high into the air. The leader of the group of Lazarines motioned for the group to advance and as they did the tiny sphere reached the zenith of its arc in the sky.

They marched forward cautious of the place where the rift had been but once across they commenced to move swiftly. The sphere began to slowly descend over the center of the Lazerines army and as it did so it began to glow a bright orange. One of the Lazarines spotted the tiny glowing object and pointed it out to others around him and just as they were looking up a blinding flash erupted and they were instantly vaporized.

The fireball engulfed everything in a hundred yard radius and the shockwave killed most of the remaining Lazerines and their horses as it rolled across the ground. It leveled the wall surrounding the village and most of the first rows of houses before dissipating.

Warlock and Peter stood up from where they had been hiding. “I might have put a bit too much in that one,” Warlock said.

But out of the fog of debris they heard the sound of more horses.

“Gather all the men and get them in position and form two lines with the archers behind and those with guns in front,” Peter yelled to Belchazer. “When you run out of bullets fire your bows men because if they overtake us we’ll all be on the menu.”

The men lined up and readied their weapons and waited on Peter’s command. The hoof beats of the massive animals under the Lazarines’ saddles became deafening and shook the ground. Then the remainder of the Lazarine army appeared in ground zero which had been cleared by Warlock’s bomb.

“Fire your weapons men,” Peter yelled.

Volley after volley of arrows flew into the air and bullets from the men’s rifles ripped into the Lazarines and as the lead horses fell the ones in the rear replaced them. Despite the barrage of gunfire and arrows the Lazarines did not stop their charge but kept coming and soon they advanced across the ruined wall and were inside the village. Peter and his men fell back and regrouped behind a wall in the middle of the village.

Sparks flew from their horse’s hooves as they rode across the stone street of the village. The mass of Lazerines approached the wall that Peter’s men were crouched behind and bounded over it like a black wave.

Now, Peter and his men were surrounded with nowhere to run. The stamping of their enormous hooves and loud blasts of exhaled air from the Lazarines’ horses and the stench of the Lazarines themselves filled the air around them. The Lazerines readied their axes for the slaughter, but before they could a shout came from the rear and the mass of animals began to part and a lone figure rode through.

The Lazarine dismounted and walked up to the men who were quietly awaiting their fate. He sniffed the air and then leaned and sniffed several of the men before stopping at Peter.

“Who are you?” The Lazarite growled his voice booming.

“My name is Peter.”

“You have the stench of human but there is something else; let me have your hand.”

Peter nervously placed his hand in the Lazerines’ palm and it produced a knife. Peter squeezed his eyes shut but the Lazarine made only a slight cut in his palm and tasted the blood. He let out a roar and stepped back.

“Why do you were the goggles over your eyes?”

Because the light causes me great pain if I don’t have them on.”

The creature turned and pulled his sword. “Lazarus!” he roared!”

A cry went up from the horde surrounding the men.

Lazarus!” they yelled.

The Lazarine turned again to Peter and pulled a beaded necklace from around his neck and handed it to Peter.

Lazarus, you are Our Father, you gave our people life.”

The necklace had a square engraving hanging from it, an engraving of a man’s face; a man wearing goggles.

“Charlie!” he said surprised.

“Lazarus!” the Lazarines shouted once more and the cry echoed throughout their ranks.

“You have risen as the prophets foretold.” The Lazerine warrior turned and spoke to the others around him “Lazarus and his people are free to move anywhere in the Wasteland without harm.” He then waved his hand and looked once more at Peter and then the tribe rode back into the forest.

Aaron came out of hiding carrying the little girl and followed by her family. Ethan and Warlock and Belchazer and the rest of Peter’s army watched the Lazarines as they went.

“We must find The Angel!” Peter said heading down the street toward a large walled court at the far end of the village.

The courtyard had not been breached by the Lazarines and as Peter, Ethan and Aaron approached the main door it opened before them. They entered the yard and made their way through another gate which opened up into another courtyard.

A tall building stood at the far end of the square and a man lay at the doors. He lay face down in a pool of blood the blade of a sword protruding from his back. They walked up a set of steps to another pair of doors, they opened and a woman stepped outside.

She was dressed in a black robe and put out her hand to stop the men from entering.

“I am Maya,” she said. “The Angel is not here please go.”

Peter gently pushed Maya aside and stepped inside. Ahead was a large drape across the entrance to a small room and Peter pulled his sword and sliced it from top to bottom and marched inside.

“I tried to stop them Angel!” Maya shouted.

A lone figure stood at the other side of the chamber with her back to them. The figure was dressed in a long cloak with a hood covering the head. The figure turned and faced the men, its face in shadow.

Slowly it approached the men and as it came near it became evident that it was a woman, her face white as alabaster after years behind the veil, her emerald green eyes had become lifeless and overcast, her red hair, yet still visible was sparsely interspersed amongst the locks of grey. She reached out for Peter’s hand and he placed it in her palm. She laced her fingers through his and rubbed the back of his hand against her ivory cheek.

“Peter,” she said.

“Angel.”

No more words passed between the two, none were needed.

“Andrew will be fine mother Ethan said, “We will all be fine now.”

Epilogue

The Elder took the book and ran his hand along the surface of its worn cover and then opened it and began reading. He remembered him and how he had always felt an intimacy with its tale and a kinship with the characters struggle. It ran parallel to the struggle that he had been in without the flesh eating Wasters and Lazerine cannibals of course, he would say.

The Elder drifted off to sleep for a moment and while he slept he heard “Strangers in the Night” playing once again on Father‘s radio in the next room.

He awoke and then wrapped the book back in its shroud and folded the photograph of Zeke within its pages. His withered hand reached for the gold chain that lay within the safe next to the book and examined it and read the inscription on the charm which hung from it

Ezekiel 37:13

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kevin Collins is a native of Oklahoma who now lives in South Louisiana in the most Cajun Place on Earth with his wife and granddaughter. Kevin is a big fan of horror and science fiction especially of the dystopian type.

This is his first novel.