Alive and Fighting: Revelations (2 page)

             
"But why'd he want people to fear him? All the Klansmen ever say is that they're 'trying to protect us' and what not." Rose asked, still confused.

             
"People are a lot less likely to impede your work when they're scared you'll hang them from a street lamp. They claim fear is only a method, and that the ends will justify the means; but don’t believe them." Spike instructed, spitting on the ground.

             
"Believe me, I don’t." Rose agreed, looking back to the bounty board.

             
"And of course Than is still wanted. I don't expect that bounty will ever be claimed." Spike prophesized, staring at the silver mask sketch on the poster.

             
"I don't know who's worse, Than, or Angel. Just the thought of her scares me." Rose added with a slight shiver.

             
"Couldn't agree more. Angel's made us bury more people than we've had to patch up. She almost ruined a good friend's life last month. My friend's still shaken up from the experience and I sure as shit don't blame her. What she went through…it'd kill lesser people." Spike rambled, practically forgetting Rose's presence.

             
"I'm so sorry…I hope she's doing okay and gets better." Rose comforted, putting her hand on Spike's shoulder.

             
"Thanks, I…I'm gonna see what Craven's selling today, then gonna get off the streets. You should too." Spike said, heading to Craven's gun stall, with Rose at his side.

             
"Spike! My friend, what can I do for you today?" Craven asked as Spike and Rose approached the stand.

             
"Just browsing, any new specials?" Spike inquired, looking over the array of guns on the table.

             
"Of course! Let me show you my newest creation…The Craven Special #20/4!" Craven announced, taking a large pistol off the table. "It's a four-barreled, break action, twenty gauge pistol. The trigger is pressure sensitive, a light pull fires one barrel and cycles the firing pin, but a quick pull fires all four basically at once. In reality, there's a couple of nanoseconds between shots. The Gravers have dubbed it 'Four Eye' and I gotta admit, they name'em better than I do."

             
"A shotgun pistol, Craven? Here I was thinking you couldn't build something crazier than the fully automatic crossbow. How much are you selling them for?" Spike asked, looking over the several 'Four Eye' on the table.

             
"I'm retailing them at thirty three hundred, but for your friend Rose, seventeen. It was her copper than made the prototype possible," Craven answered, turning to Rose. "Not a onetime offer by the way, I'll always reserve one for you in case you're interested. I look after my friends."

             
"Oh! Well, I'm just flattered you remember me at all. I'm gonna have to pass today, it's a little steep for my blood right now." Rose replied, blushing slightly.

             
"I understand completely, and please remember me if you find any more scrap you think I could us-" Craven trailed off as the clouds exploded over them and the rain began to fall in sheets. Spike turned quickly to the south and shielded his eyes from the downpour.

             
It was already too late, everyone at the Crossroads Bazaar heard it. The all too familiar screech of the undead. This time though, the wail was underscored by a long, low gravelly bellowing. Standing out against the rain and shriek, five massively loud crashes sounded from the Hive. Spike turned to Craven who had already taken a large rifle out from under his show table. Craven nodded and tossed two 'Four Eye' to Spike, who grabbed them from the air and turned back to the market where the Gravers were panicking.

             
"Take what you need to defend yourselves and get home! All guns are loaded!" Craven howled over the sounds of terror before he began handing out weapons to all the Graveyarders in sight.

             
Looking back towards the Hive, five streaks of color shot out of the roof of the Hive like rockets in the sky, heading directly for the market. Landing like cannonballs amidst the Bazaar, Hivemind and his Horsemen emerged from their crash landings, standing motionlessly and the crowd stopped and stared at them. With dull, rust like, red bronze flesh and bulging necks, the Horsemen were monstrous. Adorned in chains, they appeared as terrifying prisoners, with the ends of their metallic leashes in the left hand of Hivemind. Remarkably human at first glance, Hivemind’s chest still appeared human, save a long scar running down its middle. His arms though had the same rusted hue as his servants, save his right hand, which had long ago melded around a long curved blade. His face was completely covered by a tattered gray hood that was draped over his shoulders like a shroud. After an hour long second of silence a scream came from somewhere in the crowd, and with that, the chains fell from Hivemind's grip, and his Riders broke free.

             
Making matters worse, zombies streamed out of buildings, manholes, and nowhere from all directions, converging on the Bazaar in seconds. Rose was frozen in place, the screams of Gravers and zombies blaring all around her. She was so terrified that she couldn't even bring herself to move as a zombie came charging straight for her, teeth bared, ready to feast. Then, she could hear nothing but a high pitched ringing. The beast that had seconds prior been bearing down on her was gone. Spike rushed forward, 'Four Eye' barrel smoking slightly. He fired it twice more and the ringing continued in her ears, deafening everything. Spike turned to face her, taking her arm in his free hand.

             
"Zz zzzz zz zzz zzz zz zzzz!" Spike’s mouth was rapidly moving, but Rose could only hear the buzzing. "Zzzzzz zz!"

             
Rose floated behind Spike as he guided her through the crowd of Gravers and undead, slowing occasionally to blast a zombie out of their path. Twice Spike was forced to double back, as their escape routes had been blocked by hordes of approaching zombies. Rose could barely think, the image of Hivemind still burned against her mind's eye. Her thoughts only replayed the moments of terror, Hivemind dropping the Horsemen's chains, The Riders falling from the sky into the crowd of people, the hordes of undead flooding the market. Still she followed Spike until suddenly she couldn't move at all. Spike felt her arm jerk in his hand and he whipped around to see her other arm in the grip of a Rider.

             
"Zzzzz zzzz zzzz!" Spike bellowed, drawing the second 'Four Eye' Craven had thrown him.

             
Spike slammed his finger against the trigger, unloading all four barrels into the Horseman's chest. His shoulders flexed lightly as the buckshot flew through him, adding dozens of holes to his already puncture ridden body. The rider holding Rose by the arm was Pestilence, the tallest of Hivemind's guard. Towering over Spike at nearly eight feet, Pestilence's free arm shot out, smashing and throwing Spike clear of the fray into the limbs of an oak tree. Pestilence lifted Rose off the ground by her forearm and his piercing white eyes met hers. His eyes were the last thing she saw as she blacked out, hanging three feet off the ground.

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              "…need you to wake up…much to explain…" A voice softly spoke from somewhere nearby.

             
Rose blinked slowly, leaving her eyelids closed much longer than open. After a minute or so she was able to see where she was. Above her she saw ceiling tiles that were not her own, and she tensed in panic, wondering where she was, struggling to place herself, and in the distance she could hear the soft patter of rain. Beneath her she felt a mattress, not the softest she'd ever woken up on, but by no means uncomfortable. Again, not her mattress.
Rose couldn’t place anything around her, it was all unfamiliar. Vaguely aware someone was talking to her in the dim light, Rose rolled over and saw Hivemind standing in front of a door not ten feet away. Her mouth shot open, but no sound could escape. Her body found its movement again and she scrambled backwards, finding that the mattress was in a corner and she had nowhere to go. Rose's finger's gripped the mattress as she pulled herself uselessly against the wall, the sound of the mattress shredding in her hands lost to her ears.

             
"I want to explain things to you, but only if you will hear me out. Can you do that?" Hivemind asked softly. His voice scared Rose, not because it was frightening or aggressive, but simply because she had never known a zombie to speak. Yet, here was a Zero, calmly asking her to listen.

             
"Feel free to simply nod if you are too afraid to speak." Hivemind suggested, with a small flowing gesture. Rose struggled to nod, but was able to after a moment of chin quivering fear.

             
"Thank you. It has been too long since I have been able to have a real conversation. Until you find your tongue I will simply imagine your responses…May I sit?" Hivemind began, gesturing to a chair in front of an old vanity, its mirror wreathed in light bulbs.

             
"Much obliged, the knees aren't what they used to be and that was quite a long drop yesterday into the bazaar. Terrible thing, the launch, throwing ourselves through the sky terrifies just about everyone…but it keeps the Hive safe. No one dares to come here after seeing us Launch off the roof." Hivemind continued, taking a seat in the chair. Rose now noticed that unlike other zombies she had seen, Hivemind wore clothes that were more than simple scraps. He may not cover his chest, but he wore old jeans and even more surprisingly a pair of leather boots.

             
"Ah yes, shoes. One of the few relics of the past I still am allowed to indulge in. I may be a size fifteen now, but boots still fit…plus they sound nice walking down a hallway." Hivemind said, understanding her confused gaze.

             
"…Wh- What do I call you?" Rose managed, finally speaking.

             
"I've had many names over the years, and I've heard all that the people have given me. Hivemind, Achilles, Master of Horsemen, Devil, John Porter, Faustus, Benedict, all true in their own rights, but none true enough. You may call me Sigma if you wish, I think it is a fitting title." Sigma explained, rattling off his list of monikers.

             
"Sigma…why am I here?…Where is here?" Rose asked, in a barely audible whisper.

             
"The second question has a much simpler answer. You are in a dressing room in the Hive. It is about ten in the morning, August thirteenth. You were passed out for almost a day. As to the why, there are short and long answers. Do you have a preference?" Sigma asked, resting his right foot on his left knee, reclining a bit in his chair.

             
"I…" Rose couldn't continue, the entire situation was becoming too much for her to handle.

             
"You're stressed, it's very understandable. I don't want to upset you, despite whatever preconceived notions you may have towards me or my Flock. Why don't you take some time and rest, get your thoughts together. I'll be back soon enough, there is still much to discuss." Sigma suggested, once more responding to her emotions more than her words.

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              Spike's face stung as he pulled himself up off the grass, and his cheek scratched from a broken tree limb. The sun was low in the sky, and climbing. He'd been passed out for awhile, longer than he knew to be safe. Spike made a mental note to see Nero and get checked out once he finally made it back to Harvester Headquarters. He had more important things on his mind now; the last thing he remembered was being thrown into a tree by a large zombie. Then it hit him like he had just been thrown back into the oak, a Rider had pulled Rose from him before sending him twenty feet through the air. Spike looked around at what had just yesterday been the Crossroads Bazaar. The stalls were in shambles and bits of man and zombie alike were strewn across the lawns and pavement. What was most startling though, was that Gravers were cleaning up, rebuilding, just like they did in the old days after a hurricane. Craven was watching it all, seated on top a large open crate, full of lumber.

             
"Ugh…Craven, what's going on here?" Spike called, cradling his left arm and limping slightly over to the Gunsmith.

             
"Exactly what it looks like, Spike old friend. We are rebuilding, can't let one attack shut down the only commerce and true safe zone Blood Oak has." Craven explained, leaping off the crate.

             
"Are you kidding? After last night you think we should bring more people back here?" Spike questioned, clearly frustrated.

             
"No, I'm not kidding. This place was something good, and I won't let it be taken away from the people. I'll say this though, we took it for granted until yesterday. So starting now, I'm putting it under my watch. There's gonna be a constant guard here, armed and ready for the next time, if it comes." Craven explained, staying calm, trying to keep Spike from getting angry.

             
"Who's gonna guard a market when they could be out salvaging, or getting paid to guard someone?" Spike asked, sitting on the remains of a produce cart.