No Mere Zombie: Deathless Book 2 (10 page)

"You vivisected it?" he asked, peering at the still open chest cavity. The thing had once been a young man with dark, curly hair. The bloodshot eyes roamed the room, though his head was strapped to the table.

"Yes, sir," Benson replied. She picked up a tablet from a cubby next to the window and handed it to him. "I've compiled all available data, but I'll give you the highlights. The body has been taken over by a virus. The flesh is necrotic, but the nervous system is still active."

"The virus reproduces through a bite?" Mark asked, scanning the data on the tablet.

"Or through any fluid exchange. Blood or saliva can transmit the virus as well," Benson replied, leaning towards the glass as she studied the figure. "The real mystery is the cause of the virus. We know that it activated when the CME hit, but we don't know its origin. Our assumption is that it's been present all along, dormant in the hosts. It may have even masqueraded as another virus, though we have no way to corroborate that."

"We may never know," Mark said, frowning as he watched the living corpse. "Too much was lost in the chaos after the CME."

"Sir, what do you want me to do with it?" Benson asked.

"Have you learned everything you can from it?" Mark asked, glancing at her.

"There's a chance we might learn more, but I think it's unlikely," she replied, giving a slight shrug.

"Then I want you to put together a research team. Have them continue to document the subject. If needed we'll obtain others. I want a full profile prepared," Mark ordered. Benson merely nodded. "Once your team is operational, appoint an interim commander and come see me."

"May I ask why, sir?" she said, pursing her lips.

"I have something special I want you to look into, and I need you to handle it personally. Discretion is critical," Mark explained, watching her reaction closely. If she proved trustworthy she could be an enormous asset, one he was going to need in the days to come.
 

If not, she'd need to be eliminated.

Chapter 15- My Name

The corpse still lacked a name, but at least he knew that he was a
he
and not a she or an it. It wasn’t much, but it anchored him. It meant that he could learn, could become more than he was. It gave him hope that he wouldn’t always be a shambling monstrosity devouring the flesh of every victim he could lay hands to.

His shuffling body moved more quickly than it had, taking sure steps up the dirt track leading down the mountain towards the jungle below. A cluster of structures sat on the edge of the massive trees and while there were no lights, there was at least some possibility that he could find food there.
 

The hunger gnawed at his insides, demanding more fuel. Even if it hadn’t he would have sought food. Food made him smarter. Faster. Food made him greater than he had been.
 

A strange sensation built, beginning at the base of his spine and tingling up to his brain. The pulse carried a command to rival the hunger.
Come to me
, it demanded. His body obeyed without thought, hurrying towards the strange sensation. It pulsed from the village below like some bright beacon. He must reach the voice. It was his sole purpose.

All around him other zombies appeared. A ragged collection of butchered locals sprinkled with tourists. The shuffling horde flowed towards the same squat building, which was already surrounded by a throng of moaning corpses.
 

He pushed forward, reaching the back of the throng. There, on top of that building. There was a black man clad in white with violent eyes of the most putrid green he could imagine, the kind lurking in children’s nightmares. This man wore an impossibly white smile, each tooth ending in a gleaming point as if filed. His head shone under the moonlight, shaven bare like an egg.

How could the nameless corpse reach this man? He watched the throng. They beat upon the walls of the building to no avail. They lacked the strength to enter or climb. He would fare no better even if he could forge a path through their ranks.

He must be stronger. Strength came from feeding. There were no humans around, no source of fresh meat. But there were zombies. So many zombies. He leaned forward, snatching a young man with a scraggly beard and vacant eyes. The man hissed, extending a black tongue like some twisted snake.

He seized the young man’s head in both hands, snapping the neck with a sharp crack. The body slid to the ground, the thud muted by the moaning zombies. He knelt, grabbing the head with both hands. He slammed it into the ground in three brutal blows, the last splitting the skull. Then he pried away bits of bone to fish out the grey matter within.
 

He devoured it, wolfing down chunks as quickly as he could extract them. The hunger abated. He fed more quickly, slurping up the remains. More. He must have more. The next to fall was an old woman, short and round in a pale dress stained with dirt and blood.
 

“Stop,” the voice commanded. A voice that
must
be obeyed. He froze, gazing up at the figure atop the building. The nameless corpse’s hands were coated in gore, his face smeared with the same. That was bad. Wrong. People didn’t do that. He remembered a word. Decorum.
 

The figure hopped from the roof, landing lightly next to the nameless zombie. He needed a way to refer to himself. Thinking in the third person was wrong somehow. Awkward. So much pronoun confusion.

“You were feeding on these fodder,” the black man said, smile becoming a wicked grin as he stared down at the nameless corpse. “Can you understand me?”

“Yes,” the corpse rasped from a throat no longer suited to speech. It was the first word he could remember attempting.
 

“You possess speech,” the man gasped, giving a delighted clap and a still wider grin. “I can’t believe it. You’re far more advanced than anything I could have hoped to encounter. Give you a few weeks of feeding and you’ll be decent conversation. What’s your name?”

“I- I can’t remember,” he said, voice still rough but marginally more understandable.
 

“Nonsense,” The man replied, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s in there somewhere. You just need to reactivate that part of your brain, to recover those neural pathways. That will take time and food. Feed on these zombies. Feast on their brains and their spines. Go ahead, that one. The short man with the weasily face.”

He turned to scan the zombies. There, that was the short man with the face like a weasel. He shoved a middle aged woman out of the way, seizing the short man by the neck. He threw him to the ground, dashing his head against a rock. Perfect. He knelt and began to scrape the contents from the skull.

“Excellent,” the sharp toothed man said. He seemed extremely pleased. The nameless corpse continued to feed, scraping until nothing remained. “Now then, what is your name?”

“I- ,” he said, struggling to find a name. A face flashed. Red hair. Freckles. A goatee. He was shaving. That was
his
face. “I don’t know.”

“Another then. Pick one,” the voice commanded. Sharp Teeth’s voice nearly thrummed with excitement.

The nameless corpse turned to the throng, grabbing the nearest person. It was one of the tourists, a woman in a sun-dress. He slammed her head into one of the thick wooden posts supporting the house’s awning. Then he fed again, gobbling the sticky mass as quickly as he could get it into his mouth.

“What is your name?” the voice thundered.
 

He considered the question. Something danced just out of reach. A woman with red hair yelling his name. Liz. His sister. What was the name she yelled? “Trevor. My name is Trevor.”

“Wonderful,” the sharp toothed man laughed, throwing his arms skyward. “You may pick three more. I must send the rest south to delay our pursuers. Come, feed quickly. Then follow me. I have so much to teach you.”

Chapter 16- Yukon

The Mother blurred down the narrow alley, severing the spine of a nascent deathless with a wicked slash. This one was an old woman, feeble before death but all too deadly now. The corpse toppled to the rubbish strewn ground joining the bodies of the other dozen she’d just dispatched. Grim work, but necessary.

She leapt three stories straight up, grabbing the lip of the neighboring roof and pulling herself atop it. From her vantage she could see most of downtown Cajamarca, a sprawling city by her standards. The strange buildings sat at the top of a series of rolling hills, stands of unfamiliar trees scattered throughout wide streets. It had probably been a pleasant place before the sun's recent change had woken the deathless. Moon willing, it would be again.

 
The clash of combat came from two streets over. She couldn’t see Bridget, but had no doubt the growls and metallic clattering came from her. It was joined by the harsh crack of gunfire, something she was still growing accustomed to. The weapons were so impersonal. Even the smell they emitted when fired was horrible.

Yet they were potent, as Jordan had proved. He’d adopted few of the powers that made Ka-Dun so deadly, yet he was nearly Blair’s equal in ferocity. It demonstrated just how potent the weapons could be, though his reticence to embrace the powers gifted by his blood limited him greatly. Blair’s command of shaping grew daily, making him the strongest Ka-Dun still living. Perhaps she should ask Jordan to teach him, and in the process have Blair teach Jordan to accept what he'd become.

Bridget required no such supervision. She was still too timid, but took to her powers with nearly the same ease as Liz. It was too early to tell which would be the dominant Ka-Ken, though she suspected Liz’s determination would eventually overshadow Bridget. The smaller woman spent too much time batting eyelashes at men and not enough honing her ability to kill.

A yipping from somewhere below drew her attention, the cry of a panicked creature. The Mother scanned the street, gaze roaming between motocars and toppled waste bins as she sought the source. There. Several deathless were converging on an overturned boat next to a path leading into a park. A canoe, that was the word. Odd with no visible source of water around. What had the owner used it for?

She dropped silently to the ground, blurring to the top of a blue metal vehicle not far from the canoe. Something moved under it, scooting as far from the grasping claws as it could. The poor creature’s heartbeat thundered.
 

The Mother leapt to the ground amidst the deathless, snapping bones and shattering skulls as she blazed through their ranks.
 
She grabbed what had once been a child by its feet, slamming the corpse’s head into a middle aged woman who’d shoved her arm under the canoe in search of the frightened animal. Both skulls exploded, showering her with putrid gore. She ignored it, tossing the canoe aside and snatching up the animal in one arm.

It had golden fur and was the size of a large coyote or small wolf. Like those animals it possessed four paws, a tail and a long muzzle. The similarities ended there. This was one of the twisted creatures that mankind had made from the noble wolf, the mongrels they called dogs. She nearly dropped the beast in revulsion, but it gave a timid whelp of pain.

She examined it for the source of the pain. It bore a gash along its side, perhaps caused by scooting under the canoe. Perhaps inflicted by the claw of a deathless. If the latter were true the animal was doomed, but if not it might be saved. She stood in the road, twisted with indecision.
 

The animal looked up at her with wide brown eyes. They stared adoringly at her, then the beast leaned forward and licked her wrist. The Mother cursed her own weak heart, but she couldn’t leave the animal to die scared and alone. It wasn’t the beast’s fault that it had been twisted by man.
 

She blurred up the street, cradling the animal to her chest. It was so thin. Not quite starving, but only a day or two away from that plight. It had grown dependent upon human masters and couldn’t feed itself. Such a thing enraged her, but she reserved that for the people who’d created the animal. Not the animal itself.

The Mother leapt onto the roof of a stone building venerating some imagined god. She sank into a comfortable crouch, cradling the poor beast as it gazed adoringly up at her.

I am Yukon. My pack is dead. You saved me.
 

The thoughts were simple, more so than a wolf’s. Yet they were earnest. This creature had a kindness and compassion that a wolf lacked, though she couldn’t decide if that would be advantageous in this new world.
 

I am the Mother. Rest, Yukon. I will bring you to a place of safety.

Then she blurred back to the temple where they’d gathered those they had already saved.

Chapter 17- Pursuit

Liz leapt from her rocky perch, bounding thirty feet up the ridge. She seized an outcrop in one furry hand, flinging herself skyward again. This time she landed on top of a granite spur that jutted over the edge of the ridge’s crest. They’d made it to the top, and in record time. Well, record time for a female. Blair could have just blurred to the top in a matter of seconds, but they couldn’t afford to send him ahead. It would take both of them to bring down this deathless.

She could simply have ridden his shadow, but it was still a new power and she wasn’t sure how quickly she could emerge or what potential counter attacks that might expose her to. Given how little they new about this Irakesh playing it safe was the only sensible move. It still sucked. Even if that weren’t true, blurring took a lot out of Blair. What good would catching this guy do if they were too weak to take him down when they got there? She wasn't positive he'd healed entirely from his earlier confrontation with the deathless, in any case.