End of an Age Page 6

  “We are animals,” Mathieu clarified.

  “Great, just what I was looking for, a pragmatic werewolf. Everyone should have one in their lives.”

  “You can stall some more or we can get on with the task at hand.” He changed again into his werewolf form, dropped to the ground, and tore a section from the deer’s hindquarters. He’d definitely caught Oggie’s attention. The dog was standing next to the buck, whining quietly and looking from me to Mathieu. He was asking if it was okay to share. Before I’d finished the approving bob of my head, he’d dropped down next to Mathieu and was getting a piece. The big dog did not seem to care in the least that he was next to a werewolf. All I can guess was that he sensed no threat from the beast, after all, he knew Mathieu.

  “Fuck it.” I pushed the higher functioning “me” far into the back of some dark, little-used closet of my mind, making sure the door was locked tight before I dropped to my knees. My teeth elongated; I plunged them deep into the fur lined neck of our prey, the blood still warm as I pulled long draughts of it into my mouth. The liquid splashed against the back of my throat and sloshed into my empty stomach. My pulse quickened; a feeling of invincibility spread through my limbs. My conscience, which had been smacking its fist against the padlocked door, had finally stilled. I gave myself over to the vampire. I wonder what some poor lost soul would think if they stumbled across this scene. How strange, how terrifying would it be to see two mythical monsters and a dog feeding together? I sucked that blood until it threatened to overflow my system; even then I kept going. By the time I was finished, the warm liquid had begun to congeal; it was more like pulling mud through a straw by the time I was sated. Once the beast was thoroughly drained, I started feasting upon the fibrous muscle that once held the animal’s head aloft, tearing into it as easily as if it had been slow roasted in a crock pot. Somewhere in the neighborhood of an hour later, little remained of the deer except for some well-gnawed bones. Even the marrow was sucked dry. The idea of running two marathons and change was about the farthest thing from my mind, an after dinner wafer thin mint and a nap seemed much more in order. At least, that was what my rational mind would have wanted. The baser, animal part of me wanted to tear into those zombies, crush, splatter, decimate and kill them to make them pay for every hardship that had ever occurred in my life. If it were not for them, I could have long ago passed, having lived an unexceptional, but decent life, loved and been loved. I would be with those I most cherish, and not stuck in this eternal nightmare from which I cannot wake.

  There was no exchange of words; we both stood at the same time. Perhaps a guttural response and a nod of the head passed between us; otherwise we both already knew what had to be done. I looked down to Oggie, his muzzle emblazoned with blood as if he had painted on his own war mask. He was as ready to go as we were. The zombies had moved down the road; we had to backtrack five miles to where they’d dug up another recent grave. They were busy dismantling the corpse as we approached. Stealth was no longer needed, nor preferred. We wanted them to hear us, to draw them away from Denarth and straight to Talboton. Even in the state I was in I had to suppress a snicker. When the zombies looked up from their latest meal I could not help but see them as if they were office workers peeking up above their cubicles as someone announced they’d brought donuts. “First come, first served!” The stampede was on. I had to twist Mathieu’s shoulder as he was more inclined to fight than flight.

  Five miles in and we’d led them back to where we’d originally found them. I was doing fine. Yeah, I was stuffed with blood and meat but my enhanced body was doing what it was supposed to. Mathieu padded along like he was on a leisurely Sunday stroll. I would not have been surprised if I’d looked over and he was working on a crossword puzzle. Oggie was panting slightly, I knew now there was no way he was going to be able to make this trek, it was too much...too much for all of us. I turned to look at our pursuers. Stasis hadn’t done them any favors, they were scrawny, uncoordinated, even with their last couple of meals they hadn’t really put much meat on themselves. The only bonus, for me, at least, was that they looked much less like people now and more like the monsters they were. Monsters chasing monsters, the Grimm brothers were rolling in their graves.

  The zombies were holding at a steady pace, slower than the blistering speed I’d seen them use, but definitely quicker than a trot, perhaps averaging a seven-minute mile. At some point around the ten-mile marker I ripped an inch-thick wedge of blister down the back of my right heel. The pain was intense and immediate. I felt blood and serum pool on the bottom of my foot and squish under my heel. I had a flashback to my Marine Corps days; some of the forced marches we had would result in foot injuries that would plague our existence for days. My recuperative powers had vastly improved, but still, it would be many long miles before I put this injury behind me. Why was something that took the brunt of every step so fragile? Mathieu didn’t look like he could do puzzles anymore, but he didn’t look particularly overly taxed, either. Oggie was beginning to concern me. He’d stumbled a couple of times and had even yelped once. I could carry him for a bit, but he wasn’t a puppy anymore. Dog had to be somewhere in the hundred and twenty-pound range; that would definitely slow me up.

  I was pretty confident Oggie understood the gist of what I told him but I couldn’t be sure he got a complete and accurate translation of everything I said and this was life or death. It had to be perfect.

  “Mathieu,” I pushed out.

  He looked over. He didn’t bother with responding; that would have been a waste of energy.

  “Can Oggie understand you?” It was my only chance. They all had some form of lupine in them; theoretically they could communicate, right? Sure, there would be some dialect differences, a misunderstood insult or two, but otherwise they should be able to get a message across. He nodded.

  “Tell him,” I gulped down a hard breath, “to race ahead….” I paused, “run into the woods,” I had to catch my breath, probably ran another hundred yards before I was able to speak again, “then follow us, all of us.” That was as clear a picture as I was going to be able to paint using words, under these circumstances anyway. He nodded again. I was thinking the easy-going facade he wore was much more forced than I’d previously thought. Being chased for ten miles was as exhausting as it sounded. We could not slow up; the pace was constant and demanding. Oggie shook his head, as he was receiving what I hoped was a clear message. He looked over to me. I could see it in his eyes; he did not want to leave my side, but he was spent. He used his four paws as they were intended and pulled ahead of us, spending the last of his reserves to give some separation. He bounded up past a bend, and by the time we got to where I’d last seen him he’d cut over and disappeared into the woods. I could only hope he’d gone far enough. I couldn’t see him, and I couldn’t help, so that would have to be good enough.

  We’d gone another hundred yards when I heard a loud bark over my footfalls. I thought I was going to falter right there. Mathieu looked over to me and gave me a thumbs up. Oggie was alright. The weight of that worry being lifted from my shoulders gave me a second wind. The day was cool and getting cooler as we headed towards the night but it didn’t stop the sheets of sweat from pouring off my head and down my back. My clothes were stuck to me in a dozen different places. The sky was clear and a three-quarter moon illuminated our path, even still, it was imperative to keep a watchful eye out on the trail. A misplaced step on an exposed root or deep hole could turn an ankle and right now that would spell instant disaster.

  I tore two more large blisters into my soles, I could feel my feet sliding around inside my boots from the pus and blood slogging around down there. I had massive chafe going on around my thighs where they rubbed together. My nipples very much felt like they were being sanded down, and like I figured, it was not a pleasurable experience. Minor discomfort had been upgraded to major irritant and was fast approaching unbearable pain. We couldn’t have been much more than twenty miles into our trek, I fe
lt the odds of completion strangely drop with every step forward I took. I spared a glance over my shoulder, not sure what I was hoping for, that maybe the zombies had given up, that we just weren’t worth it. What food was? Then I remembered that I had once packed up the car along with the missus and three young children to take a five-hour car ride to visit Tracy’s aunt, who could not stand the sight of me, only because she was cooking brisket. Now, if you’d ever had Aunt Etta’s smoked brisket done in her signature dry rub, you’d understand. The kids whined nearly the entire trip, and beginning at the front door I suffered through more dirty glances from Tracy’s aunt than I care to remember. Didn’t matter, none of that mattered. I shoved enough brisket in my pie hole to damn near secure man’s hold atop the food chain.

  Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, the zombies hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gained a few steps. Their lips were pulled back in rigor mortis-forced grins, cracked, blackened teeth glowed dully behind us in the moonlight. Their scab laced arms pumped in unison to their footfalls. Most had only residual vestiges of footwear still clinging to their mangy feet; they had to be leaving a trail of blood as they pursued us. At least, Oggie would have an easy enough scent to follow, even if it smelled to high Heaven. Then, thinking of high Heaven, I looked skyward and beseeched, “We sure could use a little help here.” Nothing, not so much as a crow caw to at least acknowledge my presence. This was worse than being at the DMV at the end of any month; at least there you took a number. I mean sure, the odds were high you’d forgot some vital piece of paperwork and you’d have to start over, but fuck, you at least had a number. As my thoughts drifted, so did my concentration. I stumbled. If I hadn’t fallen into Mathieu I would have gone completely over. He pushed my shoulder to right me and I nodded my head to him as a thank you. His eyes, which were already preternaturally large because of his current form, were even more so. His hairy muzzle hung completely open as he struggled to cool down. Mired in my own agony, I hadn’t given much thought to how fucking hot he must be running around in that shaggy Wookie suit. Did he sweat in that get-up or was he relegated to panting like Oggie, to dissipate heat? I may have been the one that almost went down, but Mathieu wasn’t long for this chase either. If he fell now, I don’t know if I would have had the energy or the will to do anything about it. The darkest part of the night had descended upon us and had darkened everything outside and in. I was having a hard time remembering if I was running away from something or to something, the landscape began to meld. I think I kept my legs moving only through force of habit. Random images began to flit across my mind, perhaps it was my brain’s final hurrah, more likely I was overheating and cooking the damn thing.

  Some images made sense, my first bike, my first bike crash, my first car, my first car crash, the first man I’d ever killed, a logical sequence. My first love, then the only love that ever mattered, a searing pain. One shake-off later and I got a giant zombie clown, a bird with one white eye and one black, a large crocodilian alien that walked upright, an obviously haunted house...images spun faster and made less sense the farther I went.

  “Run!” Mathieu grumbled up ahead of me. I’d fallen behind, I was midway between Mathieu and the pack of ravenous zombies. I squeezed some precious drops of energy from my adrenal gland. I’d like to say it was like injecting nitrous oxide into an engine, which would be a gross overstatement. It was just enough go-go juice to keep the mechanics running, I maybe gained a step on Mathieu; more likely he’d slowed to keep from leaving me behind.

  We finally came abreast of each other, partially from my incremental speeding up and partially from his slowing.

  “I fear,” he paused, “that I have nothing left to give.”

  We were somewhere over halfway through our odyssey. To die now would have accomplished nothing towards our goal.

  “Mathieu...do an Oggie.” It was all I could manage.

  “You will die.”

  The first words at the tip of my tongue were, “Better than the both of us.” But I knew that wouldn’t have worked, he would have stayed. There is something honorable about two friends dying together, misguided, sure, but honorable. “I’m good.” I tried to make it sound anything but what it was: the final breaths of someone desperately clinging to the side of a lifeboat in frigid water with sharks, orcas, and a Kraken or two circling for good measure.

  “Do it,” I urged. I could not yield much more ground to the zombies in an effort to give him some distance. He pulled ahead so slowly I was fearful he was already on fumes. It had taken him over a mile to gain no more than twenty feet. Now, he was damn near plodding along instead of running. “Move faster,” hissed through my teeth. I would not give up until he was safe; then all bets were off. That gave me a grim moment of satisfaction.

  Somehow he found another gear...maybe the vapors he was burning were a little richer in oxygen. There was no noticeable bend in the path; one moment he was up ahead of me, the next he was gone. I got to the spot where I figured he’d turned off the beaten path; there was a small drop off. He was at the bottom, lying in a heap, not completely camouflaged, but probably good enough for my uber-focused zombie horde. Unless of course, one fell off the path and landed on him. Pretty sure Mathieu wouldn’t have enough energy to fend it off. I was happy he was safe. Two friends would make it through the night, those weren’t always words I could use.

  I no longer knew where I was, or how far I had to go. It seemed like I’d been running for my entire life, to or from one thing or another. It was time to stop. The thought of just stopping, sacrificing myself, had credence. It would give Mathieu an opportunity to get some much-needed rest, find my dog, and maybe resume what we’d started here. I was raising my face and my arms to the sky almost as an offering.

  “It won’t be long now.”

  “Pussy,” came from my left. “I could have kept going for at least another forty or fifty miles.”

  “What?” I asked. I was staring at a ghostly after-image of BT; then it was gone.

  “What would Bon Jovi say?” Gary asked.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Dad, if you stop, the zombies will get you.”

  It was Captain Obvious himself. The sight of Justin brought tears to my eyes.

  “I’m so tired,” I told the night.

  “Move your ass, dad!”

  “No swearing,” I instinctively told Travis.

  “What are funkies doing in the Boston marathon? I know a good place we can get some munchies when you’re done,” Trip told me.

  I turned to my side. Ron, Nancy, and their four kids waved back at me and were cheering me on. I hadn’t seen him that happy since long before the zombie apocalypse.

  “Marines never quit!” It was my father.

  “Daddy, remember that scratch on your car?” It was Nicole.

  “Now? Now you want to fess up?” I was saddened when I thought the ghosts from my past had vanished; I should have known that wasn’t the case. I looked down to my side. Henry was keeping pace. “Now I fucking know I’m hallucinating.” I wanted to reach down and pet him. Henry changed shape and grew taller.

  “You saved me once; it’s my turn to return the favor. An amalgamation of Paul and Dennis spurred me on.

  “Not going to lie guys, that is freaking me the fuck out.” There was dual laughter in response; it came from them, but it was all around me, too, like wind.

  Tommy was off to the side, he had a fistful of silver pop-tart packs and was fanning them out like a deck of cards. “It’s not time yet.”

  “I could use your help right now.”

  “What do you think I’m doing?!” he called out from behind me.

  On and on they appeared: Stephanie, my mother, people from other worlds I had only an inkling existed, like Jack and Jandilyn. A parade of memories surrounded and encouraged me, but never the one I was truly looking for. My one, my only, of all those who’d come or I’d manifested; why not her? My heart was crushed, I was feeling gutted. I
loved each and every one that I’d seen, but the one to which I’d bonded my soul was powerfully absent. Maybe it was because I did not have that soul, I was no longer a part of her. Despite the ongoing support from the others, that single thought simultaneously made me want to completely give up and yet to never do so in the hopeful pursuit of winning back that which I had lost

  I should have known to not turn around. Not only were the zombies closer, but now so was Eliza, Durgan, and something else...a huge, mutated version of a crocodile thing, and it was fast.

  “Bad idea, Talbot. Very bad idea,” I said as I turned to keep my eyes locked on the front. A pinprick of light shone far in the distance. At first, I assumed it was caused by the aneurysm that had to be bursting in my skull. But then the point grew to the size of a candle, then a flashlight; before long it elongated, looking, I figured, much like a tear in the fragile fabric of existence might. Was I running towards my end or was it coming to greet me? A figure stepped through, tears burst from my eyes. They’d been unsolicited and I would have thought I wouldn’t have had a drop of moisture to spare, yet water fell freely from my face, suddenly pissing me off to no end that it was obscuring my vision.

  “Mike, I’m here. We’re all here.”

  “I love you,” I forced out.

  “Just follow me, Talbot—just come to me, please,” she pleaded.

  “You are asking more than I have to offer.”

  Her voice became stern. “I have never known a more stubborn, bull-headed man than you, and this is the time you decide to cheat me out of that memory?” She was close enough I could see true terror in her eyes. She knew more than she was letting on. I caught some awkward movement out of the corner of my vision; not hallucinatory.

  “Me! Look at me!” she urged. It was too late; I’d already seen the black fog of the amassing. They’d come to watch my fall.

  “I don’t like that look, Mike.” Tracy was concerned. I’m not sure what my pain-filled body was able to produce on my face. I was hoping for a smile...must have come off as something more sinister. I defiantly flipped a finger to the side.