Monster Island (Zombies #1)

Monster Island (Zombies #1) Page 42

Author's Note: In case anyone missed hearing about it yesterday, I was recently interviewed by Moviesonline. You can see the interview here and there's lots of other stuff worth checking out as well, including an interview with Brian Keene.

--David Wellington

Two mummies awaited Gary when he returned to the broch. They gestured for him to follow them - alone.

There would be trouble, of course. Mael already knew what had happened. As they entered the compound the workers on the walls of the big tower had turned to see the procession, their hands dropping to their sides, the bricks they carried put aside to watch as hundreds of living humans marched fearfully into the very midst of undead central. The dead on their own had no curiosity - for all the eyes turned on Gary and his raiding party there was only one intelligence looking through them.

Gary could understand Mael's surprise. The dead army was under strict orders not to let a single living thing enter Central Park, much less a crowd of them. Gary was breaking a serious taboo.

He commanded his army to guard the prisoners and then stepped inside the shadowed spaces of the construction site. The walls were rising steadily: the dead never rested and Mael had a multitude of them to draw on. At the center of the building the Druid waited for him on his cairn-like throne. He did not look pleased.

Now, lad, I know you're a smart one so you'll have no trouble explaining this: why my best servant would disobey my instructions so completely. You didn't forget what we're at, did you? The killing and all?

"I didn't forget." Gary came closer until he was face to face with the bog mummy, staring directly into the dark hollows of his eye sockets. The Druid didn't lift his head but the taibhsearan hanging from the walls craned their necks around to follow Gary as he moved.

Then maybe you've gone soft again. Is that it? Did you go all pale when you were on the catbird seat? I don't blame you feeling a little compassion, son, to be honest. If you want then I'll send my own creatures to do the dirty deed.

Mael rose from his seat and hobbled toward the exit from the room. As he drew close to Gary he seemed to sense something. He stopped and raised his hand to pass it slowly over Gary's face.

It wasn't compassion, then, oh, no. Gary knew what the Druid felt - the energy that ran through Gary like waves on the ocean, massive and deep and strong. It buzzed and shook within him and he felt as if he might split open at any moment. You ate what, twenty of them? Thirty?

"I needed the strength. Otherwise I would have spared even them." The men he'd slain had been old or unfit one way or another. They couldn't help him achieve his desired end. "Mael. I've been thinking."

Have you now? And what grand notion has you in its grasp?

"I need to know... I need to know what your plan is for me. For me and all the undead like me, the hungry ones. When the work is done and all the survivors are dead what will become of us?"

The Druid stroked his chin and paced back to his chair as the taibhsearan followed Gary's every fidget. You'll be rewarded, of course. I'll be giving you peace, peace and the satisfaction a man feels on completing a job of work.

"Peace? The only peace I know any more is a full stomach," Gary tried.

Oh, lad, don't be dense. I know what you're driving at and it's unnatural. No creature should have to live forever. It's a curse. Take the peace I'm offering. I wish it could be otherwise but there's only two sides in this thing: you're either with me or against me.

Gary circled slowly around the throne, the seers on the walls craning their necks after him as he considered his next move. "You're talking about the peace of the grave. When there aren't any people left there'll be no food for us to eat. You'll let us starve until we wither away to dust. Or no - no, you would see that as heartless. When the work is done, when the last living man is dead, you'll just cut us off. You'll suck out our dark energy and let us just drop where we stand like so much meat."

Do you see another option, then?

"Yes!" Gary crowed. "It starts with those people, those living people out there. We stop killing them, at least, we stop killing all of them. Some of them we cull out for food but the rest we keep alive and safe from the dead. It's a renewable resource, Mael - they'll keep making babies. It doesn't matter how awful things get. Even in the middle of arma-fucking-geddon they still make babies. I can keep this going for - for as long as I care to."

And if you do that, boy, my sacrifice will be wasted. My life and my death will have been for naught. No! I won't let you make me meaningless! Now do as you've been told!

"I'm done, Mael. I won't work for you any more," Gary said, looking down at his feet.

The two mummies came at Gary with their hands up, clearly under orders to attack. Gary ducked under the arms of one of the mummies and saw an amulet tucked into her wrappings in the middle of her chest - her heart scarab. He tore it free and threw it away from him as hard as he could.

In his head he could hear the mummy wailing for her magic charm. She ran after the amulet, leaving her partner to take care of Gary. It was easy enough to block the bandaged arms he tried to use like flails. Gary headbutted him hard enough to crack the Egyptian's ancient skull and the mummy went down in a heap.

Mael waded into the battle then himself. The green sword crashed down against the back of Gary's head but he was ready for it and rolled with the impact. He dodged sideways and looked for an opening. He only had a few seconds, he knew, before Mael thought to call for reinforcements - thousands of them. Despite the energy blazing away inside Gary's dead veins he couldn't hold his own against an army of the undead. He also knew how strong Mael was and that given a chance the Druid could snap his neck with one hand. He needed an advantage and he needed it fast.

Mael swung and the sword came down hard against the floor, shattering bricks to powder, missing Gary by inches as he rolled away. Take what's coming to you, boy! Gary covered his face with his arms but he knew that if Mael connected with the sword the blow would shatter his bones.

Another swing - Gary dashed out of the way and felt his back collide with a stone wall. There was nowhere left to retreat. Mael came after him, looking down at him through the eyes of the taibhsearan.

The weapon rose again and then stopped in mid-swing. In Balor's name, the Druid shrieked, it's gone dark as night! What have you done, lad?

Gary held his hands tight across his face as he manipulated the eididh. His voice was softer than he meant to be when he spoke. "I've just told every ghoul in the Park to close their eyes," he said.

The sword fell from Mael's hand. The Druid reached up to touch his empty orbits. He started to moan, a low mournful sound that rattled Gary's teeth so much he nearly lost his grasp on the dead. He could feel Mael trying to undo his command, mental shrieks probing at the taibhsearan up on the walls, desperate cries going out for the workers outside to come in and serve their master with their eyes. Gary had become too strong, though. He had eaten too many of the living.

Gary rose slowly to his feet, careful not to make too much noise, and stepped up directly behind his erstwhile benefactor. It wasn't easy with his own eyes closed but he had made a point of memorizing where the Druid stood.

"I have a right to exist, Mael," he whispered.

Oh, lad, and it's a wondrous clever thing you've become. Gary could feel emotion radiating from the Druid's form like warmth. There was fear in there and some hatred and quite a bit of pride in his apostate pupil. Mostly though it was sorrow, genuine sorrow that his work was over.

With shaking hands Gary reached out and grabbed Mael's head below the ears. It hung from his broken neck by little more than a flap of leathery skin. With one swift movement Gary tore it free. Mael's emaciated body slumped to the floor, as dead as when it had drifted in the cold water under a Scottish peat bog. The head buzzed in Gary's hand like something that might explode. It felt hot and cold and wet and dry all at the same time and he had a real urge to just cast it away but that would be real folly - Mael wasn't dead quite yet. Unsure if what he planned next would actually work, he raised the head to his lips as if it were a pumpkin and bit down hard. The ancient skull fragmented in his teeth and then a black river of screaming fluid tore through the world and carried Gary's consciousness away in its unrelenting current.