The Undertakers: End of the World (8 page)

Which raised a question.

“Where are they getting the bodies?” I asked. “I mean … if all this started with the dead rising two years ago, and most of humanity got wiped out in the first six months, then where are these Corpses finding fresh bodies? The ones they’re wearing can’t be more than a month old, right? If there really are
billions
of deaders on Earth, then how are they keeping a steady supply of hosts coming?”

“That’s a good question,” Maxi Me said. He sounded surprised.

“Thanks,” I replied, annoyed and not sure why. “Now how about an answer?”

“There
were
billions of them,” he explained. “Back when the war started. But you’re right. As they killed more and more people, they gradually started running out of bodies to possess. So, they began … farming us.”

“What?”

Below us, the deaders were trying to regroup. Those who
could
recover from their saltwater shower were already getting up; those who couldn’t were ignored by the rest of the horde, which just looked on, quiet and watchful. They didn’t seem particularly angry about what had happened to their buds. I supposed this defense had been used before. But, if so, then why bother trying to storm City Hall, if they knew the saltwater would simply drive them back?

Maxi Me said, “Their numbers have dwindled. What was once billions is now down to maybe a hundred thousand, which still out-numbers humanity a hundred to one. That army down there is probably all that’s left of them in Philadelphia. But remember, the Corpses don’t want to
conquer
our planet. They only want to destroy all intelligent life. So, as long as they keep their overwhelming ratio, that goal is all but certain.”

“You said ‘farming’.”

“Well, that’s
how
they keep the ratio. Sometime after the first few months, the Corpses stopped killing everyone they encountered. The young and strong they simply captured, locking them up in makeshift concentration camps. There they were kept, fed,
maintained
… like chickens in a pen. Then, whenever the Corpses needed to shore up their numbers, they’d just …” His words trailed off, though I’d already guessed where he was going with this.

People were being harvested, used to supply the deaders with fresh hosts.

Smart. Organized. Ruthless. Very Corpse. Lilith Cavanaugh would have approved.

William said, “We don’t think they bother with it anymore, at least not on a grand scale. This war is winding down. Oh, we’ll keep trying to hold them off for as long as possible. But eventually they’ll come at us with real force, overwhelm our defenses, get inside the building, and kill every man, woman, and child in Haven. By then, I’m guessing those push pins I showed you in the map downstairs will all have been pulled out. Humanity’s had it.”

Hard words. Terrible words. But, given everything I’d seen so far, not surprising.

At that moment, there was some kind of commotion below us, on the east side of City Hall, along what used to be called Market Street. The Corpse lines were parting to admit a single figure. She was female, but I couldn’t determine much beyond that. Too far away.

Her host was a Type Two or late Type One, and she was obviously in some kind of charge. All the rest of the deaders stepped out of her path, bowing respectfully as she approached the base of the great building and turned her head upward.

Beside me, William visibly stiffened. Recognition? Dread?

A little of both, I thought.

The Corpse Lady held out her hand and one of her minions obediently stepped up and placed a battery-powered bullhorn into it.

“Chief Ritter!”
she called. Her speech was raspy, her vocal chords already starting to liquefy. But her voice sounded strong and so loud that it echoed off the stone walls.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

Instead of replying, Maxi Me raised his radio and said, “Pipe me through the external speakers.”

There was a click, and then an odd shrill squeal that seemed to come from the statue above us. I looked and saw a speaker, one of those big public address ones that they use—or used to use—in ballparks. From the way the sound carried, I got the impression that there were others like it mounted onto the great building’s outer walls.

“What do you want?” the chief demanded.

“Only to serve notice,”
Corpse Lady replied.
“The time has finally come. We’ve played with you and your pitiful band of survivors long enough. I suggest you make your peace with whatever god interests you. At midnight
…
nine hours from now
…
we shall return and kill you all.”

William seemed to take this threat in stride. “Bring it on,” he said. “We’re not exactly defenseless.”

She laughed, an awful sound made
more
awful by its amplification.
“You mean your saltwater sprayers? I think you’ll find them quite useless.”

“They worked well enough just now.”

Corpse Lady scoffed.
“That was no attack. I was merely ‘knocking on your door,’ as you humans say. Paying my regards. Getting your attention.”

I watched Maxi Me struggle for words. But before he could muster a reply, the monster down below offered up another comment. A strange one.

“She still lives, you know.”

At that, William went nearly white. Still, he didn’t reply.

Corpse Lady said,
“Sometimes she calls for you
…
in her sleep, of course.”

“What’s she talking about?” I asked.

Again, no reply, though William’s eyes traveled along the Observation Deck to some kind of—something—that was mounted onto the railing about six feet from where we stood. Whatever it was had been concealed beneath a heavy canvas tarp.

From his expression, I got the feeling that Maxi Me was considering it. Maybe considering
using
it. Whatever “it” was.

“Who
is
that?” I pressed.

He looked at me with an expression so pained that it hurt to see it. “Check out her Mask.”

I blinked. “I thought these Second War Corpses don’t use Masks.”

“She’s the one exception. Have a look. You deserve to know.”

So I looked, holding my eyes in that particular way that allows me to glimpse the false face that a deader displays to those who don’t have the Eyes to see the truth.

As I said, she was very far away, but the trick worked nonetheless. A human face shimmered into view on top of the dead one. Light brown hair. Large eyes. A long face and full mouth. Funny: if I’d been closer, the difference in years would probably have fooled me, kept me from identifying her.

But distance tends to blur details like age lines or gray hair. So I knew immediately who it was, and it suddenly felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me.

“Helene,” I whispered.

The Once and Future Wife

It wasn’t
my
Helene, of course. Not the strong-willed girl who’d saved my life more times than I could count. And it wasn’t Maxi Me’s Helene either, the lost mother of his two dead sons.

No, this was a Corpse who’d stolen Helene’s image and made it her own.

I’d run into this sort of thing only once before. Back then, a U.S. Senator named Lindsay Micha had been kidnapped by the Corpses and somehow tied telepathically to the sister of the Queen of the Dead. This allowed the sister to assume Lindsay’s identity, taking the woman’s face and voice as her Mask. In that instance, the real Lindsay had awakened unexpectedly and—well, things hadn’t worked out too good for anyone involved.

But why go to all this trouble? Why bother to wear Helene’s face? For that matter, why bother with a Mask at all? The deaders were way past hiding their presence on Earth, right?

Then I looked at William and got my answer.

The sight of his wife’s image was tearing huge ragged holes in his heart. He was an adult—an adult
me
—but still an adult, which meant he didn’t have the Sight. He couldn’t penetrate the
Mask
this monster had placed around herself, couldn’t see the rotting cadaver beneath.

To him, she
always
looked like Helene.

His Helene.

And it was killing him by inches.

Something that the wormbag down there certainly knew.

“When did you lose it?” I asked him. “Your Eyes, I mean. When did you stop being able to See Corpses?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. No one really does, not even Steve, though he has his theories. After all, for almost thirty years there weren’t any Corpses
to
See. But, sometime between the end of the first war and the start of the second, I went as blind as all the rest. I … grew up.”

Far below us, the thing wearing Helene’s face grinned and called through her megaphone,
“Here’s how the rest of your day will go: As we speak, a coordinated attack has been launched against the few remaining human outposts around the globe. Over the next several hours, each of them will fall, one by one, and the miserable carbon-based bipeds within will be exterminated.

“Then, at the stroke of midnight, I will come to this place, and my minions will surge into Haven and lay waste to you all. But you
…
dear husband
…
I will save for last.

“And, when you are dead by my hand, I will awaken your beloved wife and show her your head. Oh! Her suffering will be delicious! She’ll be, at that moment, the last human being on the planet, and her end will be slow.”

This is a Royal
, I suddenly realized. Not Lilith Cavanaugh, of course; she’d been destroyed along with the rest of them when Dave had ended the First Corpse War. Another sister, maybe? But definitely a member of the
Malum
royal caste. They were the only ones who talked like debutants, even while describing atrocities.

William made no reply and Corpse Helene didn’t seem to require one. Handing off the bullhorn, she sauntered away. After a moment, the rest the Corpses followed suit, a slow-moving march of the dead, all of them headed east.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

So, we don’t have weeks or even days. We’ve got hours.

When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I asked, “Does she do that a lot? Come by and just … taunt you?”

He shook his head. “She first did it last winter, right after Helene was … taken. Then again a couple of times after that. But, before today, I hadn’t seen her in months.”

“William,” I said. “We can rescue Helene.”

“No,” he replied.

“She’s alive!” I snapped.

“Yes, she is.”

“Do you know where?”

He nodded. “More or less.”

“Where?”

In answer, he pointed to the white steeple to the east. Independence Hall. Where the Declaration of Independence had been signed.

“She’s
there
?” I asked.

“That’s the deader HQ in Philadelphia. We don’t know for sure that she’s on site, but it’s a very safe bet. Corpse Helene would want her source creature close.”

He calls her that, too.

Well, of course, he does. After all, I do it and he’s me.

“Then why not put together a team of Angels and go get her?”

Another long silence followed. Then he said, “There are no Angels. Not anymore.”

I remembered how lousy Emily, Amy and Steve had been in combat. Back in my day, last night’s mission would have been all about Angels, the Undertakers crew that did direct battle with the Corpses.
My
crew.

“All of the Angels are … dead?” I asked, horrified.

He nodded. “One by one. The sad fact is that there are only a half-dozen Undertakers left. And, aside from myself, none of them is trained to execute a rescue.”

A half-dozen. There were more’n three hundred in
my
Haven.

“What about Sharyn?” I asked.

“She … can’t help us.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer.

“Okay,” I said, feeling my anger rise. “Then
you
do it! You know she’s in Independence Hall somewhere, right? Go get her!”

“We
are
planning a raid on Independence Hall,” he said, miserably. “But not to rescue Helene.”

“Why not?” I demanded.

His expression hardened. “All right. Suppose we
do
put our plans at risk for my wife’s sake. Who knows, maybe I’ll even find her, somehow wake her up, and miraculously succeed in bringing her back here. But what
then
? What would I be bringing her back
to
? You don’t get it! We’re all dead. We know it. We’ve known it for a long time. We’re fighting back because … well … that’s what Undertakers do. I absolutely intend to go down swinging. But I’m not kidding myself. Swinging or not, mankind is over. Tonight, by the look of things.”

I stared at him, unable to make words come out of my mouth.

William turned away. “So, I can’t help thinking that it would be better … kinder … to let my wife sleep. Let her sleep through the end of the world.”

Without thinking, I slammed my hand down on the railing hard enough to hurt. “Why did you even
bring
me here?” I demanded. “Amy told me you needed my help. That’s the only reason I came! Is showing me all of this supposed to be some kind of warning? Have I become so twisted that I think it’s better to know in advance that I’ll grow up and lose everything when the world comes to an end?”

“Will—” he began.

But I cut him off. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not me! If you were, you’d be running to Helene’s rescue! Corpses be damned! You want to go down swinging? Then go down bringing the fight to them!”

“You don’t understand,” he said.

“You’re right! I
don’t
understand! I don’t understand you at all!”

I fell silent then. My face burned and my stomach felt like it had flipped over on its side. I was suddenly tired, maybe more tired than I’d ever been in my life.

William said, “You’ve got it wrong. We didn’t bring you here to warn you.”

“Then
why
?” I demanded. “Enough with the bleak future history lesson! Why am I here?”

“I’ll show you,” he said.