Chapter 31 -Contain the Swarm

They came on from all around me, their eyes burning with insanity, their mouths open to shriek their hatred. Long, bony fingers grasped at my limbs, my head and neck, attempting to wrench my body into unnatural angles. Dirty fingernails dug into my exposed skin and ripped at my clothes.

The Returned woman that had spoken to me lunged for my face, reaching out and grasping the sides of my head with her manacled hands and snapping at me with jagged, stained teeth while the chains that bound her ground against the bridge of my nose. I got my arm up in time, wedging my forearm across her throat so she couldn’t bite me, but the others were more than willing to tag in.

Scourge touched undead attacks you for 3 damage.

Status gained: Bleeding. [0.3 HP/sec]

Pain lanced through my back as one of the scourge-touched latched onto my flesh and thrashed its head like a dog with a rabbit. Others attempted to rip off my arms at the shoulder, but that wasn’t quite as worrying. While painful, I was made of tougher stuff now that my Body stat had climbed into the twenties. Thank Constance for that.

All the while, if their mouths weren’t full of… me, they howled in that familiar, mindless way that reminded me of my old cell.

“Stop! Stop!” Trix shouted uselessly over the din. I could feel him down next to my shins, darting in and out, attempting to do something to get control of the situation, but the undead weren’t listening. Trix huffed, attempting to push at the undead’s shins, but they and I had much more mass than he did. He’d be hard pressed to even shift our weight, much less wrestle anyone off of me.

I grunted, trying to free my prosthetic from the press of bodies by curling it like you would with a dumbbell, but someone had a tight hold of the wrist. The desire to shift my feet and get more power into the move was there, but I instinctively knew if I lost contact with the ground for one moment, I’d be down on the floor and in a lot more trouble.

The scuffle carried on for a handful of seconds like that, me trying not to die, the Returned screeching and ripping at me, while my Volpa guide tried to talk the rabid undead down. It was odd, surreal even, to be in a crowd of capable people but essentially alone fighting for my life.

Eventually, though, the church guards stopped gawking and jumped in.

A mailed arm snaked around the Returned lady’s neck and pulled her back. She still had a hold of my head and tried to pull me with her, but one of the great things about temporary baldness was that there wasn’t much to hold onto. The woman’s nails raked over my temples and past my eyes, but then she was off of me, now wrestling with Sissa.

The chain that connected all the Returned wouldn’t let the two go far, however. Sissa, though seemingly stronger than her opponent, couldn’t drag the woman farther away than a few feet before they ran out of slack and were now fighting the weight of the rest of the undead.

Sissa had given me space to take a swing at the creature holding onto my metal arm though. My clenched fist crashed down on the Returned’s forehead over and over, not the greatest of spots to focus on, but I was working with what I could get.

Scourge-Touched Undead takes 1 damage. (Bludgeoning)

Scourge-Touched Undead takes 1 damage. (Bludgeoning)

Scourge-Touched Undead takes 2 damage. (Bludgeoning)

Scourge-Touched Undead takes 1 damage. (Bludgeoning)

Scourge-Touched Undead is stunned.

The angle wasn’t good, robbing my blows of a lot of their strength, but after the fourth or fifth strike, the iron grip on my arm loosened, allowing me to have use of my entire upper body.

Sissa and Samila, were both grappling with a Returned now. Sissa was still working on the woman in front of me, pinning the snarling undead down with some kind of technique that twisted the limbs and pinned them under her bodyweight, while Samila was to my right on the floor with the tall, lanky Returned that had bitten into my back. That one’s long, oddly jointed arms were wrapped around Samila’s shoulders like ropey tentacles, bringing her in close so it could bite at her neck, but the guard looked more disgusted than anything, her face scrunching up like she smelled something awful. Her armor was holding up well against the teeth, but she wasn’t exactly winning her fight either.

You take 2 bleeding damage.

Corporal Fidus Bole attacks you for 4 damage.

Something hard slammed into my stomach, driving the air out of my lungs, toppling me and the remaining six or so Returned baying for my blood backward and onto the floor, exactly where I didn’t want to be. I heard the crunch of bone as our combined weight came down on whatever unlucky undead was behind me. Then my vision flashed white as my head made contact with the stone floor.

Status gained: Stunned.

“Next time, watch who you sucker punch, monk.”

I blinked, looking up from the dog pile to see Bole standing over me, a cruel smirk tugging at the side of his mouth, made even less appealing since his lip was starting to swell.

Oh yeah. I did just deck this guy, didn’t I?

“They really don’t like you, do they?” He shouted over the insane howls of the undead. He waggled his eyebrows cheekily at me as he wound up for another kick like the one that had bowled me over.

Despite his proximity, the Returned didn’t give a damn about Bole. They scrambled past his legs and over me to get at my torso to bite and claw. Their weight pinned my legs and fouled up any attempt I made to soften the incoming blow.

Corporal Fidus Bole attacks you for 5 damage.

Bole’s kick caught me full on in the side of the ribs. If I hadn’t already been out of breath, I would have groaned.

*BAM* From the other side of the room, something slammed up against the heavy wooden doors that led to the plague ward. The noise drew every living eye. The doors shifted on their hinges, groaning slightly and parting the tiniest bit in the middle.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“What the hell?” Geddon bellowed from somewhere out of sight. “Sissa! They’re charging the door!”

That old, familiar chorus of innumerable, wordless howls shook the walls of the chamber.

Status lost: Stunned.

They’re all scourge-touched. All of them. We’re all in real trouble here.

I curled in on myself to protect my ribs then kicked out to get some space, sending the two undead on my legs backward until the chain arrested their falls. I gasped for breath, as my diaphragm kickstarted my breathing process once again, and I snapped an elbow into the nose of one of the Returned attempting to hold onto my prosthetic.

Scourge-Touched Undead takes 3 damage. (Bludgeoning)

Scourge-Touched Undead is stunned.

Unarmed Combat is now level 3.

The two I kicked off were undeterred. There was just a half second of freedom before they were back in the game, crawling up my legs to get at my face.

Bole jumped onto their backs, straddling me and my assailants, crouching down until his weight pinned the undead on top of me. A flash of metal caught my eye as he drew a tiny hooked knife from his sleeve, small enough to be concealed in his palm. He struck like a snake, lunging for my face.

Corporal Fidus Bole attacks you for 2 damage.

Status gained: Bleeding [2 HP/sec]

I got a hand up to intercept the blade before it could strike home, the blade carving a neat line down my wrist. Either the adrenaline in my system or the razor sharpness of the blade kept the pain from being debilitating.

Wearing a sadistic grin, Bole leaned into his blade arm, putting more and more weight behind it, forcing my blocking hand down toward my cheek. He leaned forward, close enough to speak to only me, a little intimate conversation in the middle of the chaos. The tendons in his neck flexed and strained at the effort he was having to put in. I had to imagine I looked the same.

“Nothing personal, monk,” he said. “Blood for blood.”

I was starting to understand why Sissa didn’t like this guy.

Setting myself, I pushed up with all my might, forcing the knife back. “You don’t think you’re overreacting, just a little?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Mmf! Geddon, hold the door!” Sissa called out from somewhere. “They’ve gone mad! Don’t let them out!”

“What do you think I’m doing?!” He roared. ”I can’t reach the bar! I’m having to hold it myself!”

I bucked at the waist, trying to shift Bole’s weight, but he and the feral undead were too heavy.

Suddenly, something brown and wearing robes shot out the dark and stuck to Bole’s face like a furry pie. The bastard made a noise, something short and muffled, while he violently shook his head to try and dislodge Trix. The guardsman was busy wrestling me for a knife, though. He couldn’t reach up to peel the little Vulpa off.

“Don’t worry, Brother Ryan! I’ve got him!” Trix shouted as he held on for dear life with his claws.

Bole tried to say something like “Mmmph bfff morglmf,” but I couldn’t make it out. I’m sure it was pithy.

I needed an out, something that could change the equation here.

Bole’s partner, Beedy, turned out to be just what I needed. He slammed into the pile of people on top of me, toppling Bole and Trix and bringing the two returned along for the ride. The man must have shoulder tackled us at full speed. Suddenly, I had no one weighing me down.

It gave me the chance to wrest myself from the pile. I twisted at the waist and tore myself out of the grasp of the rest of the Returned, having to give up parts of my shirt to get free, but it was a cost I paid gladly. Sissa and Samila were still busy restraining a few of them, but the undead people seemed to feel no pain. They fought hard to get at me, even if they had to go through the women that were just doing their jobs. Those not currently engaged tugged at their bonds but weren't strong enough to drag their chained fellows with them to follow me at least, so there was that.

Something slammed up against the doors to the plague ward again. Geddon, currently bracing the doors with his body, grunted as he was pushed forward. Then, the muscles in his legs bulged as he heaved backwards, shoving the doors closed once more. “Someone help me! Get the bar!”

If more of the scourge-touched joined the fight we were screwed.

I started staggering backward toward the door, sparing a glance for the pile of bodies where Bole, Trix, and Beedy went down. I couldn’t see Trix, and that worried me. Even so, the doors needed to stay closed.

*BAM*

The doors jerked forward while dust trickled down from above to land on Geddon’s neck and shoulders. His boots scraped on the stonework as the force shifted him. He snarled as he found his traction again and shoved back hard. The door didn’t slam home this time. There was the smallest of gaps between them, and the undead behind the door had Geddon matched for strength with their numbers.

I hit the rightmost door at full sprint, slamming my shoulder into it. Something cracked, close, wet like celery snapping, and the doors slammed closed again. I looked down to see a pale arm, long and sinewy with black spiderweb veins just underneath the paper thin skin. It was mangled at the base where the doors had crushed it. Black blood oozed from the narrow gap. The wood bucked again, even as I shoved against it.

Geddon grunted, spreading his arms and flexing his shoulders to get more leverage. “The bar. Get the bar!” He snarled through clenched teeth.

I nodded, looking to my right to find the beam leaning against the stone of the arch. It was… sizeable, easily nine feet long and as wide as my waist. When I laid my hand on it, I could instantly tell it was dense too, as if there was almost no hollow space even among the fibers.

I set my feet and wrapped my arms around the middle.

Come on 24 Body. Don’t let me down.

The muscles in my legs, back, and shoulders bulged. My neck went tight, and my diaphragm tensed to the point where I was no longer breathing. Blood roared in my ears.

Nothing.

Well, not nothing. The top of the beam, which had been resting on the stone, shifted slightly and changed the angle at which it leaned. The bottom of the beam, however, did not move. It was much too heavy for me.

Then someone else was there. Gloved hands grasped the beam above mine. They weren’t lifting though. They were pushing. The wooden slab started to shift, leaning toward me, over me.

No. No. Have to get it up. Up!

“Move!” Bole’s voice sounded out right next to me, breaking my concentration. I opened my eyes. The man’s face was right there, bleeding from claw marks on his cheeks. His watery eyes tightened at the edges as he strained. “Bloody move!” he commanded again.

The beam toppled toward me. I disengaged myself from my hold and wrenched my body to the side. The weight of the thing forced my shoulder down painfully, nearly doubling me over as the angle changed. Its trajectory was…

Oh shit.

“Geddon!” I called, turning to face the hulking lion man. He was in a bad way, sweat dripping from his face, knees trembling, about to buckle. Upon hearing his name his eyes shot open and refocused, like a man coming out of a trance. The beam was picking up speed.

“Move!” I commanded him, putting every ounce of fake authority into my voice that I could.

It worked. Geddon, a military man at heart, followed the command without hesitation, diving forward as the beam crashed down in front of the door. It hit with a deafening *BOOMF,* kicking up dust and shaking the floor enough for me to feel it through the soles of my boots.

Before the beam had even settled, the doors to the plague ward slammed up against it, hard. The wood rattled and cracked as what I could only assume were a multitude of bodies surged forward to escape. The beam only slid forward a few inches before Bole was upon it, crawling down beside it and bracing it with his feet.

The damage was done though. The doors were open, not all the way, but now there was a foot wide gap between them. Pale faces with milky white eyes, deformed and mangled hands, and black tongues burst from the breach like maggots from a bloated corpse, crowding in to be the first through, the first out.

The faces howled and bayed like dogs when they saw me, their white eyes only for me.

Bole saw what was coming before anyone else. He cursed, kicking at the heavy beam one last time before reaching into his cuff again to pull out his hooked knife, the one he’d tried to use on me. Then he jammed it into the bricks at his feet directly abutting the beam, a makeshift wedge to keep the barrier in place.

He jumped to his feet, backpedaling swiftly away from the tide.

Already, bloody ragged figures were slipping from the narrow gap in the door. They squeezed themselves through the slit. They left flesh behind, cracked rib cages, bled black globs of stinking slime too thick to be rightfully called blood.

The plague ward was birthing a host of horrors.

“Run!” Someone cried.