Authors Note: This is the last chapter I had mostly written, but I don't mind continuing this (slowly) while I am recovering.
Basically, as long as this is well rated and is getting a good response I will keep on posting it periodically, but if not I will just drop it and wait until I feel well enough to continue my main series. :D
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Andrea shivered as Rolland’s voice rolled over her like a heavy wave, first seeming to come from one direction and then abruptly from another. She had never killed before, and a numbness crept from the back of her skull in a tingling wave as the realization of what she had done swept over her.
Her concentration was disturbed as a sudden clattering sound arose from the alley behind her, a dented dumpster tumbling into sight and crashing against a concrete wall. A moment later she saw the beautiful bronze skinned angel craw into view, having pushed the dumpster out of his way as he tried to regain his feet. She looked around, abruptly noticing that Rolland was nowhere in sight.
“A-are you alright?” She asked the humongous figure as he slowly stood up, one gigantic hand resting on a second story fire escape, the tortured metal bending and squealing in protest.
The angel looked at her, a concerned look on his face. “It is you we need be concerned about, mortal.” He gave her a reassuring smile, “Worry not about one such as I.”
After experiencing Rolland’s voice the angel’s was somehow… less impactful than before. “I knew what I was doing when I called him.” She said, a hint of righteous anger seeping into her voice. She had never liked being patronized, and this gigantic man had been questioning her choices from the very start. “And my name is Andrea, not ‘mortal’.”
The angel's face grew peaceful is he finally navigated the corner between the buildings (no easy feat, given his size) and knelt on the pavement in front of Andrea. This woman was not as simple as he had assumed – she had obviously not called Rolland lightly.
“I understand, Andrea. And given the state of this world your choice may have been wiser than you know.” He smiled sadly, “But I was referring to those men…” He gestured at the blood spattered across the dusty and hole-ridden alley. “Your first kills. Something that nobody should take lightly.”
Andrea felt her face heat up again, “You have no idea what I have been through, and you have no right to judge me!” Her voice rose in volume, an edge of hysteria creeping in, “They deserved what they got, and I would do it again, and again, and aga…” Her voice abruptly broke, disrupted by a sob that she fought to control.
“You did well, Andrea. Take time if need be, and then we deal with the others.” Said Rolland, his voice echoing from beside her, penetrating her consciousness and calming her nerves. Andrea took a breath of air, fighting the urge to glare at the angel as she took solace in Rolland’s words. She had done well – she had done what she needed to do. And it had been the RIGHT thing to do.
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Rolland briefly considered his options. Killing the offending gang of fools was beneath his notice, but saving a world was something he had always found quite difficult. He had tried many tactics over the years, and few had met with lasting success.
Saving people as a generous hero (Rolland shuddered inwardly, recalling his misguided youth) only led to reliance, the people who were saved becoming dependent and needy – unable to protect or govern themselves. It led to a system of constant maintenance, and in the end all that was left was resentment on both sides. Better to let a world burn than to do that again.
He had no issue with helping people who were ready and willing to help themselves, but they often started making ridiculous requests as soon as they realized the scope of his power. Granting the requests led to dependence, and denying them led to resentment. Better to let them live or die on their own merit.
He waited patiently for Andrea to respond, curious at which tract she would take. He was also conflicted as to whether he should raise her sister from the dead or not... the girl was currently a zombie (she hadn’t been hard to find), but if he atomized her body first (destroying the infection) a resurrection spell should suffice. However, he wasn’t sure how Andrea would react, or which choice would be best for her personal development…
Andrea thought about Rolland’s question… should she kill them, or…
She knew, from what her grandmother had said to her, that Rolland was a monster… but she just couldn’t see it. Even knowing that he might end up killing her… or worse… she just couldn’t bring herself to fear him. As long as she got her revenge, he could have her very soul for all she cared.
“I…” she hesitated, “I want to k-kill the ones who… who hurt Amelia… I want to make them p-pay.” She finally said, her voice shaking only slightly as she tried to harden her resolve.
Rolland paused… so the sister was named after his chosen… perhaps he would have to revive her after all. He quickly rifled through Andrea’s memories, gaining a sense of Amelia’s personality, and smiled. The sister seemed nearly as spirited as he remembered their grandmother being… he reached out with his will, shadows spreading across the city and swallowing a certain small zombie from among a crowd. He would hold onto Amelia’s animated corpse for now, making his decision after Andrea had completed her revenge.
Rolland smiled as he almost decided to simply scoop up the gang of survivors and bring them here… but that would deny Andrea her hunt.
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When the virus spread many people panicked and attempted to flee the city, which only caused the death toll to rise as roads were jammed shut and packed with easy victims. The first responders, and even the Army and the National Guard, could hardly do anything in the face of the riots and insanity that followed the initial outbreak. Groups of people ran from street to street, indistinguishable from roving packs of the undead to the terrified soldiers who were sent to save the city – and they soon learned that every person killed, weather from the virus or not, would soon rise and add to the carnage.
The only way to kill them was to damage the central nervous system: Bullets to the brain were often ineffective. It was the brain stem itself that carried the infection, bypassing any type of higher thinking or cherished memories the host had once possessed. Scientists, when there were such people, had released information about how it was similar to the bacteria which could take over certain insects: and in fact, antibiotics had some limited effect on the infection if it was administered promptly (and in high enough doses).
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The problem was that it just spread too fast, and very quickly any hope of setting up and maintain antibiotic supply lines was exhausted. The world fell rapidly after that… soon leaving only the lucky… or the ruthless.
Byron had been a drug dealer in a previous life, his connections allowing him to get his hands on plenty of stolen antibiotics early on – and it was the antibiotics that allowed him to build up his empire. Thugs would work cheap if he held their lives in a pill bottle, and they stopped being so afraid of biters once they knew he would use his drugs to take care of his own people above anyone else.
Rolland watched Byron from one of his many shadows. A resourceful man: Having built an empire like this in a dying world was no easy feat. But Rolland could see into his soul – Byron was a man with no honor, a self-serving fool who thought nothing of the future. Having no use for him, Rolland bonded his mind, driving Byron screaming into insanity as they swapped memories with each other.
The exchange was hardly fair. Rolland added a measly few years of experiences on top of his own, while Byron was suddenly faced with eons of death and destruction, pain, mutilation; empires falling and being reborn, only to die out again; glimpses at infinity that no mortal mind could possibly withstand.
Byron’s shadow rose up from the floor and swallowed him, disgorging him later – still screaming and tearing at his eyes – into the midst of the zombie horde that Rolland had taken Amelia’s corpse from. It seemed a fitting end, but Rolland payed it little mind as he thought about what came next.
There were other captives being held here against their will, and he could hardly expect Andrea to accidentally kill all of them. He wasn’t sure he wanted to expose Andrea to that level of responsibility yet… it could slow things down to an unbearable crawl. Rolland considered just killing them now, painlessly – which would probably be a kindness – or wiping their memories and adding them to his stockpile of refugees. But in the end he wanted to see what Andrea would decide to do: He would present her with a choice when the time came, and then make his decision.
Rolland always kept his word. Always. Honor was the only thing more important than destroying demons. He had accepted Andrea’s request, so he WOULD ‘save’ this world, whether they liked it or not… but the how of the matter was open to a great deal of interpretation.
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Andrea made her way through the horde of zombies, laughing as they flailed uselessly against the force-field Rolland had given her. She swung the glowing blade in her hands inexpertly, disintegrating large swaths of undead with each blow – it was like a lightsaber, she thought, but only if lightsabers caused people (and things…) to burst into glowing dust upon contact. She had never felt so powerful, so alive!
“Sorry, Grandma, but you were dead wrong! Rolland is amazing!” She said to the billowing zombie-dust in front of her. She then raised her voice, looking over at the gigantic bronze angel gently floating a dozen feet off the zombie filled road, his golden wings nearly touching the buildings on either side of the street. “Do you have a name?”
The angel was pointedly ignoring the mass of zombies underneath him, each of them reaching futilely upwards in a vain attempt to grab him. Andrea wondered if they would even be able to breach his glistening bronze skin. He wore only a simple white roman style robe, tied in the middle with a golden rope – for just a moment she envied the zombies their view… he was simply stunning to look at.
Gazing at her, the angel replied, “I am an Ariel, an Earth Spirit of Preservation. We do not have names in the manner of mortals such as yourself.”
Andrea shrieked as another Zombie bounced off of her force-field, momentarily startling her before she turned and disintegrated it with an awkward swipe of her sword, chuckling at her own foolishness. She had lost herself staring at the angel, momentarily forgetting that she was still in the midst of a zombie apocalypse.
“Well, I’m pretty sure Ariel is a girl’s name… so, Preston?” She asked. It kind of sounded like preservation, and was definitely a male name. “Wait, no, that sounds too…” She looked at him again, swallowing her saliva as she took in his startling blue hair above his amazingly well defined features. “Well, it just doesn’t suite you. Presley? Nooo… oh, wait! Elvis Presley!” She said. The connection was weak, but the name seemed to suit him, somehow. “Can I call you Elvis?”
“I have had many names, Andrea, on many different worlds. You may address me as Elvis if you wish.”
Andrea did a small victory dance in her head as she swung out at another group of zombies. Her arms were starting to get tired…
“Tell me about Rolland, Elvis? Why is he your master?”
“If I tell you, will you agree to consider a single request?”
Andrea blushed, thoughts of what the request might be instantly skimming across her tired mind. She banished those thoughts, moving towards a van that she thought she might be able to climb up on top of for a brief rest. “Sure, I’ll consider it.”
Elvis was silent for a moment as he glided closer to her, turning his body slightly so that he faced her directly. His flight was surprisingly quiet for such a large being.
“Rolland was once a mortal, not so unlike yourself, Andrea. He came from a battered and war torn world, beset on all sides by demons and monsters you can scarcely imagine. He began life as a noble SHŌKI, a profession named after the Japanese god responsible for quelling Demons. He spent years traveling from settlement to settlement vanquishing supernatural evil wherever it could be found, living off of the generosity of the people he saved. It is told that he was gifted from birth, strong in both mind and body, and the harsh training he had endured since early childhood honed him into a powerful force against evil…”
“Hmmmmmm… enough.” Rolland’s voice came broiling out from the alley as his shadowy form seemed to melt out of the wall. “Andrea, I have opened a portal into the lair of those you seek, but I will not join you on your quest for vengeance. You have the weapons and equipment I have given you: Your life, and their fate, is now in your hands.”
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