The Lost Gods (17 page)

“Way to go, only a million more to go!” yelled Da
nielle.

“No,” yelled Bl
ake and he paused to push an approaching reanimate away from him. “I got one of the screamin....”

T
wo reanimates grabbed him. He yanked himself free, but fell onto his ass. They lunged for him. The first one met with the backswing of his mace, but the other landed on top of his shield. Its weight flattened him out. It clawed at his face. He turned his head, trying to protect his eyes from its long, dirty nails. His headgear shielded him from serious damage, but he could not move the arm that was pinned under the shield, nor did he have enough room to swing his mace again. He drove the handle of his mace into the creature’s face. The first strike collapsed its nose, and the following strike laid waste to its decayed face. He rolled on top of the creature, crushed its skull with the butt of the handle, and pushed himself onto his feet. He wheeled around and met the cloudy eyes of more creatures. Again, he raised his shield and readied his mace.

...

Danielle stayed on the edge of the fighting. Whenever a creature would get close enough, she would shuffle in and thrust the point of her saber into its face. When her strikes landed true, which was every time at first, the reanimate would fall backwards often causing the creatures around it to topple. Once they were flattened out, her dagger gave the fallen reanimates a second death.

...

The
galla
on the right side of the fighting rushed Nathan. Nathan kicked it in the chest, sending it backwards. He followed up with a diagonal swing of his broadsword, but he misjudged the distance and threw himself off balance. The
galla
jumped toward him and batted off his helmet with a powerful strike. Nathan planted his feet and elbowed it in the chin. The
galla
absorbed the blow and cranked its body to counter. Before it could repay Nathan, he slammed his shoulder into its chest. It wheeled backwards a few feet and in a single, fluid motion, Nathan feinted a one-handed strike, grabbed his broadsword’s handle with both hands, and lopped off the
galla
's head with a powerful slash. He picked his helmet off the ground, brushed it off, and put it back on. Nathan grunted and charged toward the mass of fighting reanimates.

...

Undead bodies churned around the living. Every few seconds an arrow would sail by and stick into a reanimate. Jesse could hear only the shuffling of soulless corpses, the slicing, and smashing of weapons on flesh and bone, and the grunts of the other three living fighters. It was the quietest battle in human history, but that mattered little to the participants. Jesse had gone from precise hammer strikes of his axe to wild swings. He shook off the grasping hands and mouths of the creatures with violent, uncontrolled movements. The reanimated dead could not keep hold of Jesse in his frenzied state. The woman in his dreams had imbued him with an unnatural power. With his new strength and his old fury, he was able to displace dozens of the creatures with a single shove. He did not tire. His rage was pure and his focus was singular. The army of the dead could never be routed, so his only goal was rendering them into useless piles of disconnected parts.

“Coming up behind you,” Blake
said to Jesse. “No back swings.”

Jesse did not respond, but he directed his strikes at the creatures in front of him.

...

Underfoot were the pulsating and shifting bodies of the reanimates that Jesse had knocked over. Blake slowly navigated the mess. Sinewy hands grabbed at his feet and ankles. Blake swung his mace at the carpet of inte
rwoven bodies. He had trouble finding their heads, but whenever a head popped up, like a gopher from hole, he would bring his mace down onto it. Instead of pushing into the ranks of the walking reanimates, Blake set upon the task of giving a final death to the fallen creatures in Jesse’s wake.

Blake spotted Danielle skewering the fallen dead as well. Her weapon was more efficient a
t the job. She grunted at him and pointed at Jesse and Nathan. She wanted him to leave her to it and help them. He nodded and headed into the fray. An arrow flew in front of his face. He drew in a hard breath. His heart dropped and ceased beating for a second.

“Sorry!” Tim yelled.

Blake flipped Tim off and continued the treacherous walk through the shifting blanket of bodies. Blake came within earshot of Nathan. Nathan’s breathing was all hard, pained breaths. He attacked the reanimates with slow, sloppy swings. A long trail of severed limbs, heads, and motionless bodies snaked out behind Nathan. His formerly pristine armor and sword were covered in chunks of coagulated blood and smeared black fluid. Blake let out a quick hoot and walked in front of Nathan. He pushed the creatures back with his shield, and followed with swings of his mace. Reanimates fell but were blocked from hitting the ground by those still standing. The mass of creatures had become more dense and harder to fight. The living had whittled away at the massive army of the dead, but there was no end in sight. Blake glanced over his shoulder. Nathan had stuck his sword in the ground and held his hands above his head. He drew in deep breaths and sweat poured down his face.

“We need to pull back for a while,” said Nathan.

“Yeah, you get Jesse and I'll hold them off,” said Blake.

...

Nathan pulled his sword out of the ground, and made his way to Jesse. Jesse was moving as fast as he had in the beginning. He tossed the creatures aside and swung his axe to and fro with abandon. He appeared to Nathan like a barbarian: drunk on blood lust.

“Jesse! We need to pull back for a bit.”

“Keep fighting!” Jesse yelled.

“We will!” Nathan yelled. He drew in another hard breath and continued, “Come with me for a bit. We need to buy ourselves some time.”

...

“All right!” Jesse yelled. He shoved the creatures aside and worked his way back toward the wall. Jesse searched for the
galla
that had retreated into the ranks of undead at the beginning of the battle, but he could not find it in the teeming crowd. Nathan and Blake fell back as well, and when they met with Danielle, she yanked her saber out of the perforated skull of a fallen reanimate and followed. They hurried back to the wall, leaving the reanimates to navigate through the hundreds of bodies they had left in their wake. Danielle searched for Tim on the walkway.

“Where's Tim?” Danielle asked.

...

“Fuck!” Blake yelled. He broke into a sprint. The ot
hers followed at their own pace. Blake ran through the gate, and found Tim hunched over and bloody. The third
galla
was on the ground with a dirk buried in its right temple.

“They can climb,” said Tim. He sat up. Blake slid next to him. Tim’s face and neck sported huge gashes. A slow red tide colored his face and armor.

“Uh,” Blake said, between deep, wet breaths, “you look like shit.”

“I was never pretty.”

“You certainly aren't now,” said Blake. His joke did a poor job of masking his concern. He knew there was no way that those gashes were not going to get infected.

...

Nathan, Danielle, and Jesse came through the gate and closed it behind them. Jesse saw the third
galla
lying on the ground. He went up the rope ladder. Out in the field, the huge mass of reanimates had not reduced much in size, but they no longer moved like an invading army. The pile of the twice dead was enormous, and the still-moving creatures could not seem to move through the fallen. They tripped and joined the ranks of the helpless creatures on the ground. A handful stopped moving when they could go no further.

Jesse went back down the ladde
r. Blake was checking Tim's wounds and the others gathered their breath. Gore and viscera covered Jesse’s clothes. He had gone feral, but his breathing was normal: slow and even. Nathan kept his arms above his head and tried to catch his breath. Danielle was not as exhausted as the others. She massaged her sword arm and grimaced. Jesse dropped his axe onto the grass and wiped the dark chunks of flesh and blood off of his armor.

“What the fuck got into you?” Nathan asked between inhales.

“There was no other option,” said Jesse. He did not look up at Nathan and kept to his messy task.

“I get that we had to fight, but you just ran in there. You threw caution to the wind and jumped right into that mess. It's not a concert, man. Those things could have ripped you apart.”

Jesse did not respond and finished wiping himself off. Nathan wiped the gore and blood from his sword and sheathed it. He walked over and put his hand on Jesse's shoulder.

“What are you?” Nathan asked in a hushed tone. Jesse was quiet for a moment. He kept his focused on the ground.

“I don't know how to answer that question,” Jesse said. He made eye contact with Nathan and continued, “I don't know what's going on anymore. I'm as lost as anyone else, but I feel better than I have in months.”

“That’s good for you, but what does this all mean? Is it God?”

“I don’t know. All I know is where we need to go. I’ve been having visions telling me to go south. It's the way forward. That's all I know.”

“Where?”

“San Diego. Mission Beach. On the boardwalk.”

“Why there?”

“It's where she is.”

“She?”

“Yeah, she. I don't know who she is, but she made me this way. That much I know. She healed me somehow through my dreams —or visions, or whatever they are. Actually, she did more than that. I woke up this morning and my muscles weren't tired. I felt amazing. I had strength and energy that I haven't had since I wrestled. More strength than I ever had, actually. I feel like something — well, how I imagine a man much stronger than I am feels.”

“That much I can believe.”

“Really?”

He looked at Nathan's eyes and face, searching for a sign of deception and found none.

“We all saw the gashes last night,” said Nathan. “They were gone this morning. I know it wasn't the vodka, or Blake's first aid. He isn't that good. That was some supernatural shit. Add that to the things you were doing out there in the battle, and there’s no other explanation. It was unbelievable. I've never seen anyone fight like that. I mean technique-wise it was shit, but you get my drift.”

Jesse laughed, but the humor faded fast.

"We've got to get down there. We'll die eventually if we don't. They know where we are. Those things will come back for us, if the regular ones that are here now don't kill us.”

“Yeah, I know, but the problem I have is that I'm not sure that we should go and meet this woman, or thing, or whatever she is. If she can do that from hundreds of miles away, then what could she do when we're right next to her?”

“I don't think we have a choice.”

“We always have a choice.”

“Dying here isn't exactly the kind of choice I'm willing to make.”

“Yeah, but it's still a choice.”

“Maybe, but fate is calling us.”

“I wish it would wait,” said Nathan. Nathan looked up at the clouds, as if he was wondering what was to come. His hand moved d
own to the hilt of his broadsword and he squeezed it. Jesse patted him on his arm.

“Yeah,” said Jesse.

“Who knows? Maybe it’s all part of God’s plan.”

Jesse shrugged. He picked up his axe and picked out the chunks and strands of gore stuck to the blade. He worried about what the others would think about the long journey ahead. They had camped out in relative safety for months, while he had endured the elements and the uncertainty of
the wild. Jesse had already surrendered himself to fate, but the others had yet to take that final leap into the unknown.

“Do you guys have anything that I can hang this axe off of? You know, like a belt or something,” Jesse asked.

“I think I can put something together,” said Tim and he started to stand. Blake grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“You're hurt. Let me do it.”

“Anything to keep my mind off the pain,” said Tim. Blake let him go.

Danielle exited the keep. Tim stepped aside and let her pass before he entered. She was shouldering a full pack and she carried an empty canvas bag. She dropped the pack on grass, and went over to the garden and b
egan picking the ripe vegetables. Jesse overheard her and Blake talking.

“What are you doing?” asked Blake.

“What does it look like?” she responded. “We've got to go, so we'll need food.”

“We aren't leaving right now.”

“Oh, you'd rather wait until those things surround us and starve us out, or until they break through the walls, or smash the gate? Isn’t that what everyone was saying before?”

“I didn't say that,” said Blake.

“That's what will happen though. I can see that now. We built this thing, not stonemasons. It has only held up this long because most of those things were gone by the time we got finished.”

“Come on, just...,” Blake protested.

“Stop, just stop. Seriously, Blake, we’ve got to motor. There's no staying here now.”