The outer walls and part of the ramparts of the small military outpost had been severely damaged but the soldiers guarding it were currently making repairs in the short gap of time that passed for downtime. Most of them anyway, one of the soldiers was kicking and shouting at a makeshift still which spluttered into life from the last of her kicks.
Her clothes were civilian in nature but she had several technological implants connected to her eyes and one hand was clearly non-biological. Her age was closer to a girl in her late teens than an adult.
The behaviour of the of the late teen was mainly ignored by the others as they slowly moved around checking for repairs and any monstrous corpses of creatures with too many eyes and limbs which hadn’t been burnt yet.
They failed to make any eye contact or response to her actions when the makeshift still began to smoke and a small flame burst out before dampened by the late teen slapping it out with one mechanical hand.
‘Darn it. Work you stupid, stupid thing. I added the aqua vitae and blood. Now work for me!’
In the middle of the outpost a bonfire raged as various ancient soldiers in varying states of decay and equipment dragging bodies and throwing them on the raging blaze with silent shuffled movements.
The outer perimeter fence was a ramshackle affair that had been broken and rebuilt so many times that it was akin to the ship of Theseus. Replacement parts and hastily made repairs meant that nothing was left of the original except for the location and the rough shape of it.
Claw marks, scorch burns and indented metal in the shape of multiple fists covered the surfaces of the large walls but the gates themselves remained untouched. Almost pristine in the dim overcast sunlight that sprinkled beneath reddened clouds.
A lone man in a metallic suit of armour reminiscent of an ancient European mercenary was currently using a hammer to slot in replacement metal sheets in a wall. He was happily singing a tune to himself.
Two others dressed in alternatively a Japanese samurai suit of armour and a modern combat uniform were sitting down chatting on the side both drinking a flask of what appeared to be hot coffee.
The air remained thick and hot but neither showed signs or discomfort or concern at the recent battle which had taken place outside of their outpost.
They were both seated on the smooth concrete ground legs flat beneath them. The man had pulled down his scarf and raised his helmet slightly to allow his parched lips to drink slowly from the steaming contents of the flask.
The face of the soldier was mainly covered by his goggled helmet and desert coloured keffiyeh around his neck. His entire body was kitted out in standard combat armour but most of the supplementary pouches had been removed to allow for ease of movement.
There was no sign of his main firearm on his person or communication equipment. All in all, he had been stripped to near bare essentials except for his customised body armour which shifted with each movement. The back of his helmet had been painted with two bluish eyes and a scratch of a mouth with two blood red fangs daubed on.
He nodded towards the woman having put the flask down and put the lid back on. He swilled the liquid in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, his throat gulped down hungrily. The woman in the suit of samurai armour took off her helmet and placed it on the floor before turning to the man in modern combat armour.
‘You done with the flask yet? It’s my turn to drink.’
‘Yeah, yeah bossy lady. Soon. I like to get all the bits out first.’
‘And yet it’s my turn to have a drink. Respect your elders fool. I was sure that the fountain must be running dry by now. How did you manage to clean the blood out of it?’
‘Ok…ok. Monster flesh doesn’t taste so good unless it’s thoroughly cooked. The blood, it adds flavour. Yum. Yum.’
He grinned at the woman with two sharp incisors showing just underneath his helmet coverings. The man spat out a bloody piece of flesh onto the floor which landed nearer to the feet of the ancient knight but not close enough to splatter.
Bang
Bang
Bang
The knight shifted his feet a little as he avoided the splatter. His armour was ragged and had slight tears on it revealing a greenish glow from within. His hands moved swiftly with the hammer, one gauntlet holding a panel while the other increased the speed and tempo of his hand with the hammer.
Even if she had seen the fanged smile of the camouflaged soldier the face of the woman remained stern despite her youth. She chose instead to glare in his direction with raised eyebrows before correcting her seated posture, resting both armoured arms on her kneecaps and she cocked her head to the side.
‘As I was walking to Scarborough fair…the maids there are pretty and fair...’
The man in the suit of ancient knight armour began to sing with each strike of the hammer caused as the metal glowed and fixed in place. His work was largely finished although he wasn’t entirely pleased with the overall quality.
He paused for a moment. One mailed gauntlet wiping non-existent sweat from his brow as he slightly turned his head to gaze upon the samurai and modern soldier drinking
‘Are you two going to finish your break now and get on with the repairs? I believe the expression is teamwork makes the dream work. Ah, I see neither of you appreciate my song. Forgive me, I know it is a little old. How about getting to know you?’
The woman in lacquered armour looked up, dark eyes and long eyelashes showed on her pale beautiful face. Her cheek were slightly reddened from the hot drink. Her eyes flashed in anger for a moment as she looked at the soldier, she had just been sharing a hot drink with.
Despite their apparent closeness their friendship was fluid in nature. Predators of different species only stayed together in times of extreme danger the small group of soldiers was no different.
‘Ericson. Shut up, also do not sing that song. A nice voice doesn’t make a great singer. You know the walls will regrow themselves. As long as the door remains untarnished then the outpost will hold. You will serve your term as the rest of us do until you are either dead or absorbed. The afterlife does not need one such as you. Also, stop singing in English, I know you’re a European knight. At least then I won’t be able to understand your words.’
‘Stupid samurai, I’m going to steal those gates. Then we’ll see who has a place to defend. See how far your fancy armour will protect you then. Oh wait, your honor will do the job.’
‘HAH?’
The woman hastily put back on her lacquered bamboo leave green helmet and stood in an aggressive pose. One hand on the two swords attached to her armoured waist. Her hands were twitching, prepared to draw both blades with a fraction of a second.
The soldier with modern equipment put a hand on the handgun he kept holstered on his hip but remained in the same position as earlier. He washed down his words with the remains of the flask as he tried his best to screw on the lid before letting it drop to the floor.
The man enclosed in the suit of ancient knight armour continued his work of banging in the panels before he stopped, placed the hammer down gently and with her arms at his dies bowed in the direction of the woman in samurai armour.
‘An Onna-Bugeisha such as yourself should not be lowering your standards. My lady be at peace please. Our true enemy awaits.’
She appeared slightly appeased before she returned his bow, a strand from her tied back hair loosened and fell across her pale face.
‘Your words are wise Reisläufer Markus..’
The soldier sat there with one hand on his hip holstered modified Sig Sauer M17 handgun. He slowly stood up to his full height. One hand was stretched outwards into thin air with gloved fingers slowly moving.
‘I told you two this before. I don’t speak Japanese or Swiss. Talk English. I shared my drink with you samurai so we’re bonded. Knight, you finished with repairs or you need a hand? I don’t need to hear your fancy old English songs either. Work is work.’
‘Ah, Ericson. As a military man I believe you should know this word. Would your existence be defined as a POG?’
‘…The hell did you learn that term?’
‘My mistake. You are clearly not a POG good Sir, you are a FNG.’
‘The fuck did you just call me? Markus, get your sword ready. This is on.’
The women in lacquered armour had put on her helmet and bowed in the direction of the shoulder.
‘Clowndick.’
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The soldier threw his arms in the air.
‘I give up. I’m not sure whether to laugh or get pissed off at you two. Just try and save it for the enemy, I know that I will.’
‘I am a woman. Men are samurai. Call me a woman of war. Clowndick.’
The knight paused admiring his work before he joined in the casual insults directed towards the military soldier. He placed his hands on his hips before thrusting them forwards.
‘You did ask her to speak English Sir Ericson Clown the Dicker.’
‘That’s not how you use it. You two are entirely out of context. Forget it. Markus, I need you to tell me who taught you those words. I am your commanding officer. Was it Darius? I bet it was him. He always wanted you in his squad to boost numbers, he has way too many casualties. It was him though right? You can tell me.’
‘I am not am liberty to say Herr Ericson. Suffice to say they were a good teacher. I assume that FNG is not a suitable word for one of your position. ’
With that the knight stood to attention with such attentiveness that it would have brought a single tear to any drill sergeants eye.
‘At ease mercenary.’
‘Yes Ericson.’
The woman in samurai style armour remained bowed and her position was unmoving. Her rigid posture was becoming slightly unnerving to the man in the modern military outfit.
Ericson sighed and gave her a formal bow in return before he spoke his apologies.
‘I apologise for my neglect in your true title goddess of war. Please accept my sincerity.’
The women bowed to him longer than he had originally thought and failed to move her position. The armour suited knight stood with one hand resting on his hip and the other outstretched.
‘Friends, the night is long and we need to make repairs before more beasts attack. Even the smallest crack in our armour could lead to our defeat. Might the lady bless us with her combat prowess?’
She still failed to move a single centimetre until Ericson pulled himself up from his deep bow and nodded his head. Then she straightened her posture and kept both of her hands on her twin swords. One of them ended in a shorter blade than the other.
‘I may not be taking your head this time night creature. But step too far and…’
She left her final words unsaid. There was little else to say in her eyes as her face changed to a darker shade of red and black rings formed under her eyes.
The armoured knight brought a single closed metallic gauntlet to his face and coughed lightly to draw the attention of his two comrades.
Teenagers. I am sent here to babysit adult warriors acting like a pair of teenagers on their first date.
‘Ahem. We are finished now. Would you two care to share another fine hot drink to seal your end to this little display of affection? I believe the English word is flirting.’
Ericson raised a single finger at that. He held it up while he turned his head. Then he raised his other hand into a gloved fist and spoke out a single word.
The armoured knight and women kitted out in female samurai style armour turned their backs away from him looking around them. The camp had begun to move once more to prepare for a next wave of creatures which would likely attack their position.
All repairs made would be temporarily and they simply needed to last out the fresh waves until the darkness decended and those attacking them would be prey for the even worse ones living further away from their location.
They each raised an arm in unison and the decaying soldiers in the main courtyard moved in their direction. Shuffling and dragging themselves into position with a line gradually forming behind each one as they were delegated to positions on the wall.
Each of the decaying soldiers was armed with a large variety of weapons, most were older but some were more modern. All showed signs of decay and rust.
Ericson secured his gun and sidearm on his uniform before he stood up and waved a hand at some of the more decayed forms of soldier who had previously failed to respond. More of them had died during the last wave than he had liked and if he could then he’d prefer to avoid fighting directly.
They had been given explicit orders to blood their new comrade while at the same time keeping her safe from harm. Even at the cost of all the soldiers there and their active military position. To take it back would be a task but he followed instructions from his commanding officers. They all did if they wanted to survive in this wasteland.
The modern military style soldier turned his attention towards the knight in armour who was talking to the older decayed soldiers and patting shoulders which broke apart under his touch.
‘Markus! You need to safeguard the girl. I mean the new recruit to our merry band of killers. I was told to protect her but she needs to get closer to actual combat. Send a few of the fresher ones with her and tell her that she only gets to run her reanimation experiments when I’m confident she isn’t going to blow a hole through the structure walls. We’ve done enough patch-up repairs that I’m not willing to risk it. Are we clear soldier?’
The armoured knight turned and gave a hand gesture before he stopped in his actions and waved at a group of decaying soldiers who had been headed to an appointed position near the main gate and waved a metal gloved hand in response.
***
‘My friends, we have a choice to make. Do you want to keep guarding hell or die storming the gates of heaven?’
The ancient metal armour of the mercenary was heavily tarnished, parts were chipped off and broken and several deep gouges on the front showed traces of a blue light shining from within. He leaned heavily on one side with both hands resting on the hilt of his sword as the blade dipped into the heavy blood-red ground.
His helmet was removed showing a skeleton head with two blue glowing shafts of light inside the skull sockets. A pale light lit his exposed head as he turned his head towards the distance, observing a wooden covered cart pulled and pushed by a dozen figures.
‘Our clever comrade approaches, would you care to assist her?’
‘Hard no on that buddy, as long as I don’t need to listen to sing that song about the girl going to a fair then we’re all good. Squad, confirm readiness to take on the gates of heaven.’
The figure kitted out in modern combat armour was sitting on the ground checking through his inventory as he removed each item from his pouch and checked it carefully before putting in back. His main weapon rested on the ground, a heavily modified assault rifle along with an old style flintlock pistol next to it.
‘Junk, I’ve got mostly junk unless our genius girl over there comes up with some updates for my equipment. Squad, are we prepared to try and leave this place or do you want to spend the rest of our unnatural lives killing monsters and following orders?’
He picked up the flintlock pistol holding his close to his helmeted ear before lightly tapping the side of the barrel and frowning. He removed a longer strip of metal and fiddled with the barrel before the gun began to shift form into a more modern firearm, the process was slow to take and the main stock turned back into its original wood.
After putting the now updated firearm back down upon the ground he reached up to his mouth and let a finger rest on one incisor letting the skin cut open and a bead of blood to form.
‘My friends. Would a song perhaps cheer our spirits and allow us to do well on what could well be as last endeavour as comrades as friends?’
The soldier in modern combat armour shook his head as he watched the small drop of his blood resting on the tip of his finger grow and slowly moved it towards the flintlock.
‘No, just no. I’m working on equipment maintenance here. Where’s the girl genius?
‘She was as as beautiful as the night sky…her skin began to glow as she smiled…’
‘Seriously? I keep asking the squad to give reports and you decide to sing? Well, I now know whose going to be the target practice when my guns are back in action.’
The soldier let the drop of blood fall onto the flintlock pistol and grey mist arose above it. A women dressed in lacquered samurai armour approached him stealthily with one hand holding her helmet and the other resting on the hilt of her sheathed sword.
‘Ericson. How are your repairs coming along?’
Without turning his back the man in modern combat armour furrowed his brows as the patch of grey mist on the flintlock grew darker.
The man in the suit of armour called out as he kept watch, his hands on the hilt massive sword partially dug into the ground. The damage on his armour began to slowly repair although parts remained dented.
‘My lady. Apologies, Onna-Bugeisha. Herr Ericson is occupied with his weapons of war, we all have our methods to rest and repair. Mine is prayer and his is through blood. Pray leave him to his own devices. Ericson, I remain ready as always to take on the throne of any pretend god. The area remains clear for now. Ah, our scientific genius approaches with her horde.’
In the near distance a heavy covered wooden cart was being pulled and pushed along, pausing for tiny intervals before carrying on as a voice shouted out from inside. Harnessed to the front of the cart in replacement of cart animals were six zombies in mild degrees of decay. The back had several larger zombies which had originally been monsters pushing and stumbling according to their state of injury.
‘MOVE MY UNDEAD HORDES. MOVE AND OH SHI-’
The voice stopped talking as another sound arose in the background, a low growling sound that increased in volume came upon them.
‘We have guests. Shall I serve them the tea and cakes?’
The women in red polished lacquer armour crouched behind the back of the soldier in modern combat armour, her helmet on the floor as she gazed in fascination at the mists now swirling around the equipment of the soldier. The weapons that he used were transforming from their original designed state into modern forms.
‘HELP, I NEED HELP. MARCUS? ERICSON? SAMURAI LADY? GUYS? I NEEEED HEEELLP! MOVE IT ZOMBIES, MOVE!’
The heavy wooden cart began to rock further as the stronger zombies pushing the back began to double their efforts to move, the ones in front stumbled but picked up the pace as the straps attaching them to the cart strained under the increase in speed.
A growling sound increased in volume as beasts covered in spikes, with additional limbs appeared several hundred metres away from the wooden cart and sniffed the air as they began to crowd forward and run towards the smell of fresh meat.
‘MARCUS! MARCUS! MARCUS!’
The man in ancient European-style knight armour lifted up the broadsword in two hands as he turned his head back towards the sitting modern soldier and pale faced woman with tied back black hair and beautiful features.
‘Comrades. Join me when ready, the fight begins. Oh, these look fresh enough to eat and imagine the blood that we can gain from them.’
The last wave for the day was hitting them. Hard.