Patricia walked up and stood in front of him, still in the waitress uniform, and
with
her weapon on her hip. "That was some fine sword work you showed."
He glanced up from polishing his blade. "Aye, and I can say da same about you."
The lady pirate adjusted her sword so she could sit down next to him. "It is a shame we spent our years in confrontation with each other. We work well together."
Still cleaning his sword, he replied, "Aye."
"The descendants have pulled their forces back. Our territory has grown. The new arrival, Hellion has her soldiers stationed on the new front line."
"Aye, this be how it
goes
in this war. They attack, we eat them,
or
they run."
Pointing to a slash on his arm, Patricia said, "You have a wound. I shall help you get a dressing on it."
With a quick glance at his arm, Bartholomew said, "Tis be a scratch. Besides, I be dead. No use in tending ta something which do me no harm."
She slid closer and snuggled up to him. "What I would do for a bottle of rum right now."
Prometheus walked along the dark street with several of other undead. Smoke continued to cling in the air from the earlier fight with the military forces. Ravens and Turkey Vultures scavenged the remains of the body parts, which littered the street. The occasional screams of the remaining living humans echoed off the buildings as they were eaten alive. Midnight, still wearing her silky blue nightgown, strolled alongside him and asked, "How often do we get involved in these battles?"
"I don't really know, my new friend. I only recently came back to this world. All of my memories are from the early days of this apocalypse, when the descendants greatly outnumbered us. Our confrontations in those days consisted mostly of small skirmishes. It appears as their numbers diminish, they are more willing to fight."
Greg, who had exchanged his business suit for a black canvas kilt and leather motorcycle vest, pointed to the front entrance of a building on their left.
During a previous altercation with the humans, an explosion
had blown the
charred doors off their hinges
. Broken glass and rubble lined the
sidewalk
of the dark structure. He said, "The last time we fought on this street, the descendants fought with much honor to keep us from entering this place. We never did break their lines of defense. Perhaps
,
we should investigate the interior to see what was so important for them to put up such an
impenetrable
barrier."
Prometheus gazed at the
burnt
out building. The smoke scars and blast holes told the story of the fierce battle
that
once took place on this spot. He replied, "Yes, perhaps this dwelling will give us information
that
could help us in our cause."
Walking
inside the dark corridor,
over the rubble
of
what remained of the transit, Greg led the others with his sword drawn and held in front of him. They all cautiously walked over the crumbled
remains
of the walls and ceiling, which lay on top of the once brilliant marble floors. Electrical fixtures hung free dangling by their wires and burn marks etched anything still standing. John, wearing a long red ball gown marred with
tears
and scorch marks, said, "By the looks of this equipment scattered around, I would say this was some kind of research lab."
Greg replied, "But we have attacked these labs before
.
Why
would they protect this one with more exuberance?" He pointed to a large silver door and asked, "What is past that grand threshold?"
John glanced at the door and said, "It's a walk-in freezer."
"Perhaps the object behind their fight is stored inside the room you call a freezer."
John stepped over some toppled shelves and pulled the freezer door open. The white interior light illuminated the room as a frosty mist rolled out across the floor. "It's empty
,
but it still has power. It must still be connected to one of the live main lines."
From the dark end of the lab, Prometheus heard the muffled words, "Kill me." He turned his head to listen
to see
if the words would repeat. He stopped and asked, "Did any of you hear that? I thought I heard someone speak to us."
"Do you think it’s a human trapped in the rubble?" John asked.
Greg stepped away from the freezer and turned his head toward the darkness. "It can't be one of the living
,
because this voice spoke in our language. It would have to be one of our brothers or sisters."
The group quickly moved through the darkness until they came to a second room with two large heavy wooden doors hanging crooked on their hinges. Cautiously, Greg pushed the structures aside and led the other re-ans into the lightless room. From somewhere in the darkness, they heard a voice once again whisper, "Kill me. Whoever it may be entering this room, please kill me."
Nemi pulled out a flashlight from his backpack and scanned through the interior. The light reflected off metal autopsy tables and more overturned lab equipment. At the far end of the room, underneath some large chunks of fallen drywall and some support beams, they saw the source of the voice. A zombie strapped to a table called out, "Help me. Let Odin have mercy upon my soul and please kill me."
Prometheus and the others quickly moved across the room and unburied their brother. With the light illuminating his face, Prometheus recognized the trapped undead person. "My brother, Gunnar Benwa."
Gunnar lay naked on the table. His body
was
covered with round bruises
and
each one had notes of human scribble written on his skin next to the marks. One of his legs had been amputated with the bone and desiccated muscle still exposed. He ran his tongue over his
dried
cracked lips and with sadness on his face, he said, "It has felt as though many lifetimes have passed since I last heard my name spoken. My eyes have forgotten
whom
they see. I do not recognize
you,
but you remember me. Please, help my failed memory and tell me the name of the person who has come to my rescue."
As the others untied the leather straps, the Athenian grabbed his friend's hand. "It is me, Prometheus. I was killed shortly after our last discussion. For some
reason,
the gods felt the need to send me back and I
returned
in a new body."
"Prometheus, my brother," Gunner made a partial attempt to force his mouth into a smile. "I have thought about you and our talks. As I have laid here
,
unable to move for these many years, I replayed our conversations to keep my mind sane." He gazed up at his friend. "I see your eyes are still green. You have not been feeding enough to change them to blue."
"I have made the effort
,
but my feeding on human flesh has not yet elevated me to the final level of our quest."
Greg slid his sword back into its sheath and asked, "What happened to you, my brother? For years
,
we presumed you to be dead."
"I was captured by the descendants and placed on this table, so they could conduct experiments on me. They started by cutting off my leg and injecting it with all kinds of magic potions. In time, they eventually burned my leg and gave their evil concoctions directly to me. I believe they have tried to kill my soul
,
but Odin will not allow me to leave the world in such a way."
Midnight placed her hand on his chest, focused her eyes, scanned his body and said, "He has some kind of sickness in him. I can see it
,
but I do not recognize this type malady. It is a
blackness,
which travels through his blood and into his muscles. Unlike all other
afflictions,
I have seen, this one appears as though it is alive."
With the straps removed, Gunnar continued to lie on the table. "Yes, the descendants have experimented on me, all these years. This potion in my body causes me great pain as if it flows though me like fire. I once longed to remember what it would be like to feel again
,
but now I beg you to help me end my suffering."
John examined many of the vials and around the room. Holding one in the beam of the flashlight, he said, "I can't read this
,
but it sure looks like they have been working on an anti-virus. They must have been injecting this into him."
"There have been others who have been given the potion." Gunnar relied. "I have seen them die shortly after the injection. They screamed out in pain until the suffering ended. Their skin turned colors making them look like the livings."
Gunnar squeezed Prometheus' hand. "I have lain on this table in this corner for years
,
while they injected me with this fire. I have been motionless here all these years only able to see this same spot on the ceiling and limited parts of this room. No longer am I able to move. Please brother, end my suffering."
"Tell me what you need."
The Viking motioned for the Greek man to move closer and he whispered his wishes to his friend.
* * *
On the bank of the lake in the center of the city park, Prometheus and his crew stood around a small rowboat partially in the water. Inside, Gunnar lay motionless as they covered him with dead branches and leaves. The Viking looked at his Greek friend and said, "Thank you for this. I hope I will finally get my journey to
Valhalla
where I will walk along side my father once again."
Patting him on the shoulder, right before the last of the branches filled the boat, Prometheus said, "You will be there soon
,
my brother. If you do not return in another body as I did, we will know you are in the land of honored warriors."
With only his face showing through the branches, the Viking replied, "And I hope you can soon give your gifts to the descendants and bring this apocalypse to an end."
John ignited a road flare and threw it into the boat. The dried wood quickly took to a blaze as the group pushed the vessel from the bank. Flames rose higher reflecting on the water and lit up the whole body of water as the boat coasted to the center. The flickering light attracted more zombies as hundreds staggered from the darkness and gathered around edge of the entire lake.
* * *
John Colton stood in the stadium parking lot talking to two soldiers. From the distant skeletons of the skyscrapers, small trickles of smoke continued to snake into the air from the previous night's battle. A bonfire made of dead bodies burned on the edge of the lot
,
as soldiers and vehicles moved about without interest. The smoke drifted upwards and merged with the smoke from other distant fires turning the sky gray.