Part Two- Sorrow & Harlow
“Holy shit! Will you look at the carnage!” Masters said, surveying the scorched and smoldering battlefield as the giant mech walked away from the Railer train towards the other mechs and the transport. “You doing okay, Rache?”
“Yeah, Mitch, I’m fine,” she answered quietly.
“What’s up? Where’s my hottie?”
“Let’s talk, Pilot Masters,” the Commander interrupted.
“Pilot Masters? What’d I do now? I thought bringing the cavalry would keep me out of hot water,” Masters said, gesturing towards Jay’s mech and the train a half mile back, sitting idle on the tracks. “Are you still mad about that insubordination thing?”
***
Capreze opened his cockpit, unstrapped and began to descend. “I need you out of your mech, Masters.”
“Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Masters said irritated. “Where the fuck is Harlow?”
“We’ll talk about that on the ground, Pilot,” Capreze insisted. “Exit your cockpit now. That’s an order.”
Masters took a closer look at the destruction about him. He didn’t see signs of Harlow’s mech.
“There is smoke coming out of a canyon on our left,” Stomper observed.
Without a word, Masters/Stomper turned and clomped towards it.
“Pilot Masters! I gave you an order!” Capreze yelled.
***
“I’m sorry, Mitch,” Rachel said, walking her mech towards Masters as he loomed over the canyon, staring at the still burning wreckage below. “We lost communications with her. None of us even knew she was in trouble.”
“What do the scanners say?” he asked calmly.
“Too much interference,” Rachel answered. “I’m so sorry, Mitch.”
“She is correct,” Stomper said. “I have tried also.”
“So she’s dead because her com went down, huh?” Masters inquired menacingly, turning his back on the canyon and stomping back towards the mech transport. “Where the fuck is Jethro?”
“It’s not his fault, Mitch,” Rachel called.
***
“JETHRO!” Masters boomed over his loudspeaker. “GET YOUR WORTHLESS ASS OUT HERE!”
“Hello Masters, I’m glad you are in one piece,” Themopolous said over the com. “If you’ll check your vid feed you’ll see that Jethro is in no condition to go anywhere.”
“Fuck my vid feed! Get that piece of shit out here so I can stomp him to death!”
“Masters,” Stomper interrupted. “The mechanic is bleeding from orifices a human should not bleed from.”
Masters angrily looked at the screen. He stared for a moment then sighed. “What’s wrong with him, Doc?”
“His brain’s deteriorating,” Themopolous answered gravely.
***
“It was the Outsider, wasn’t it?” Masters asked, barely containing his rage.
“It was the broadcast signal to the Reaper chips that started it,” Themopolous asked. “So if this Outsider is in control of-”
Masters/Stomper didn’t wait for an answer. The giant mech burst into a run and was nearly a mile away before Capreze could protest. “Pilot Masters get you goddamn ass back here! Pilot Masters!” Only silence.
“He switched his com off,” Jay interrupted. “I’ve been monitoring. And don’t bother trying to catch him. That thing can cover some ground.” Jay cleared his throat. “Is Jethro really dying?”
***
“Yes, Jay. Jethro’s dying,” Themopolous said.
“Yeah, well, we didn’t sign up for this gig because of the generous vacation pay,” Jay joked weakly. “Let’s get you guys on the train so we can get out of here.”
“I think we should slow down and think first,” Capreze said. “With the base gone we need to regroup.”
“Yeah, well, you can think while we move,” Jay responded. “’Cause there’s a deader army heading this way.”
“How many?” the Commander asked.
“More than 100,000 easy,” Jay answered. “Hey, by the way Commander, where’s Biz? And why were you in his mech?”
***
“You’re sure the Outsider can’t detect us?” Mathew asked Shiner as they stood on a low ridge over looking the road leading up to the UDC stronghold. Three layers of fencing separated the road from an enormous mech sized steel door.
“We are invisible to its sensors,” Shiner responded. “However, we are not invisible to its vid.”
Mathew looked at the 200 yards or so of open ground between them and the stronghold entrance. “No way to really sneak up on them, huh?” he asked.
“Not that I can calculate,” Shiner said.
“What are the defenses?”
“Powerful, armed and ready.”
***
“What is it, Lieutenant?” Specialist Sol asked, creeping up next to the unit leader.
Lieutenant Nancy L. Murphy, UDC Special Ops Commander, lowered her binocs and turned to her 2nd in command. “Not sure. I couldn’t get a good look at the pilot. Looks like a deader, but it’s not acting like one.”
“It’s not on my scans,” Specialist Ngyuen added, joining the other two. “Whatever tech it’s using, its custom.”
Lieutenant Murphy thought for a moment. “If it’s a deader, we can take it. But, if its not, I don’t know. We’ve never taken on a live one before.”
***
“We are not alone,” Shiner stated. “The movement is faint, but there are others around us.”
“Live or dead?” Mathew asked assessing the sensors. “Those are weird readings.”
“I would say alive. Their movements are erratic, but I believe this is because they are utilizing some type of tech that is designed to confuse our sensors.”
“Kinda like our stealth tech?”
“No, not quite. We are invisible to scanners, they are visible, but only if you are looking for anomalies, which I am.”
“Doesn’t look like many. Maybe 6. We can handle that.”
“Yes, but I would rather we didn’t.”
***
Lieutenant Murphy lifted her left hand and twirled her index and middle finger, ending the motion by pointing at Shiner/Mathew.
“Are you sure we want to light it up, sir?” Specialist Sol asked. “The crazy fucker inside’ll know we’re here.”
“It already does, Specialist,” Murphy answered. “It has the specs for our armor, it knows how to find us.”
“Yeah, but without our Reaper chips it can’t get a lock on us, right?”
Murphy sighed and looked to Specialist Nguyen. Nguyen cleared his throat. “It doesn’t need to. This close to the entrance we’re the flies in the spider’s parlor.”
***
Positioned fifteen yards to the right, concealed by a large rock formation, Specialist Kafar put his RPG launcher to his shoulder. A targeting image superimposed itself on his helmet’s visor, showing him distance, wind speed and other information useful to insure the rocket hit its mark.
“Ready,” he said quietly. “Target is acquired.”
Crouched directly behind him, Specialist Austin slapped him on the back. “You have a go.”
Kafar centered the target’s crosshairs directly on Shiner/Mathew. “Bye bye, you deader fuck,” he whispered, slowly squeezing the trigger.
There was a loud hiss then the rocket shot away from the launcher.
***
“We have incoming!” Mathew shouted.
“Yes, if you were paying attention you would have noticed the target lock acquired on us seconds ago,” Shiner said.
“Sorry if I’m a bit distracted. I couldn’t imagine why my mind isn’t multi-tasking right now. Good thing I’ve got you to look out for me,” Mathew said sarcastically.
“I have apologized several times for not allowing you to disconnect,” Shiner responded.
“I just want to wash off! I’m sitting in my own filth for fuck’s sake!” Mathew shouted.
While still arguing, the mech spun about and discharged its plasma cannon, disintegrating the RPG instantly.
***
Specialist Nguyen’s jaw dropped at the site of the mech effortlessly defending itself. “Okay, that’s no average deader,” the Specialist said.
“No, it’s not,” the Lieutenant agreed.
“Attention mystery guests,” Mathew’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “We’ve got you on our scanners and have a pretty good idea where you’re hiding. How about we cut this shit out and have a quick chat?”
Murphy lifted her hand again and gave the okay sign. There was a pause then the sound of a ricochet as a high caliber rifle round pinged off Shiner/Mathew’s cockpit, leaving a small crack in the windshield.
***
“Hey! That was just dick!” Mathew yelled. “Hold your fucking fire! We’d rather not have to retaliate.” Another bullet hit the windshield in the exact same spot, increasing the size of the crack.
“Ahhh, come on! That’s really going to make it hard for me to see. Knock it the fuck off,” Mathew said.
“I do not believe they are open to negotiations,” Shiner said.
“Yeah, no shit.” Mathew thought for a moment. “Hey! Guys with guns! If you’re UDC why aren’t you dead? You do realize that every single UDC trooper is now a walking, talking deader puppet, right?”
***
“Think that’s true?” Sol asked. “Do you think Johnson killed everyone?”
Lieutenant Murphy raised her binocs and took look at Mathew. “I don’t know. It’s possible. Definitely one reason I had us yank our chips out.” She watched Mathew for a moment. “What I want to know is why the mech pilot keeps saying ‘we’. You got anything, Nguyen?”
“Nope. It’s the only thing around us.”
“Whatcha thinkin’, sir?” Sol asked.
“I’m thinkin’ that if we ever plan on getting back into the stronghold we are going to need some help. That mech may just be that help,” Murphy answered.
***
Shiner/Mathew watched Lieutenant Murphy step from behind her cover, hands raised. “I’m unarmed,” she called out.
“That is not true,” Shiner said to Mathew.
“Yeah, I see the gun in her belt. Let’s give her a chance,” Mathew responded. “What the hell is she wearing?”
Shiner/Mathew scanned the Lieutenant’s armor. It was full body, black and seamless. She also wore a matte black helmet that covered her entire head, except for the tinted face mask, which was flipped up. Whatever material the armor was made of it continually confused the sensors.
“That’s some sweet gear,” Mathew said over the loudspeaker.
***
“The armor’s a prototype. Only myself and my team have them,” Lieutenant Murphy said, arms still raised. “That’s not a standard mech, is it, Pilot?”
“Nope,” Mathew answered. “It’s one of a kind.”
Murphy and Mathew stared at each other, the Special Ops Commander craning her neck to see up into the cockpit.
“Do you mind coming down out of there so we can have a chat?” Murphy asked.
“I’d love to, but circumstances are keeping me in this cockpit,” Mathew answered. “So, any reason you decided to try to blow us up?”
Murphy looked about. “Who is this ‘us’?”
***
“The ‘us’ would be me and my mech,” Mathew said to Murphy.
“I do not appreciate being referred to as ‘your’ mech. We have a symbiotic relationship,” Shiner said, offended.
“Well I wouldn’t exactly call this symbiotic since I’m trapped right now,” Mathew shot back.
Murphy listened to the two bicker briefly. “You do realize your loudspeaker is active, right?”
“Fucking nice one! You didn’t turn off the loudspeaker before talking?” Mathew scolded.
“Technically it is my loudspeaker. I am entitled to its use as much as you are,” Shiner responded.
“Um, still active,” Lieutenant Murphy said, lowering her hands.
***
Lieutenant Murphy gave the thumbs up and the rest of her team joined her. They all stood there listening to the mech and its pilot.
“I think they’ve gone nuts,” Specialist Austin whispered.
“I would have to agree,” said Sol. “They sound like a coupla old ladies.”
“WHATEVER!” Mathew roared. “Just shut up for five seconds and let me get this figured out.”
Shiner grew silent, refusing to respond.
“That’s better,” Mathew said. “So, why aren’t you dead?”
Murphy pointed to herself. “Are you talking to me now?”
“Yeah. Who else would I be talking to?”
“Definitely nuts,” Austin repeated.
***
“Any chance you can kneel down so I don’t have to destroy my neck looking up at you?” Murphy asked.
“Sure thing,” Mathew said, bringing the mech as low as possible. The Special Ops team clambered onto a large boulder which, while not quite eye to eye, brought the conversation to a more even level. “How’s that?”
“Fine. To answer your question, we were outside for another series of tests on the armor when all hell broke loose inside. We lost contact with Control. Then Dr. Johnson came on the com and ordered us back for ‘inoculations’. We didn’t go.”
***
“Your turn,” Murphy said to Mathew. “What the hell are you? Where are the other mechs?”
“Well, to answer the first question: I don’t know. Shiner and I are, well, new.”
“Shiner?” Specialist Kafar asked. “It has a name?”
“I do,” Shiner answered and the whole team took a step back. “Self-identification is part of self-awareness.”
“That’s just fucked up,” Kafar said.
“Try having it in your head 24/7!” Mathew exclaimed.
“And the other mechs?” Murphy pushed on, ignoring Kafar.
“They are on their way, I hope,” Mathew said. “They were about to get in the shit with some Ranchers.”
***
“Ranchers? What do Ranchers have to do with this?” Murphy asked.
“That’s why I’m here, to get answers,” Mathew answered. “We noticed- by we I mean the other mech pilots and myself- a lot of strange Rancher movement then I spotted them loading up UDC transports with deaders. Next thing we know every city/state has been inoculated, killed and controlled by something called the Outsider. Any clue what the fuck that is?”
Lieutenant Murphy snorted. “That would be Dr. Johnson. He invented the nanotech. I guess the UDC brass took it from him and, um, he didn’t handle it well.”
***
“We aren’t sure what happened inside the stronghold, but what we do know is that Johnson is the only living thing in there,” Murphy said.
Nguyen cleared his throat. “Before Johnson locked down the system I was able to grab some surveillance.” He tapped at his tablet then turned it about for Mathew to see. It was an image of a hangar with dozens of UDC personnel laid out upon the floor. Coming at them was a forklift. Mathew watched in horror as each person stayed perfectly still as the forklift drove over their heads, mashing them to a pulp.
***
“Okay, and not to repeat myself, but why aren’t you dead?” Mathew asked.
Lieutenant Murphy looked at him puzzled. “I don’t understand your meaning.”
“When the Reaper chips activated, why didn’t yours fry your brains?”
“We pulled them,” Murphy answered matter-of-factly. “The second we knew Johnson had taken over, those chips became a liability. We don’t deal with liabilities.” The other team members grunted their agreement. “And, what did you mean by all the city/states were killed and now controlled?”
“Um, I hate to break this to you, but human civilization is now dead and walking. Walking right to us.”
***
“How much time do we have?” Specialist Sol asked.
“It is a matter of a few hours at most,” Shiner responded. “Some dead armies are closer than others.”
“Armies?” Lieutenant Murphy asked. “Why would you refer to them as armies?”
“That’s what they are,” Mathew answered. “The controlled masses of the city/states being led by the controlled UDC troops. And all the transports and armaments that come with those troops.”
“Jeezus,” Austin muttered.
Murphy activated her com. “Grandetti? On me.”
There was a slight shifting of rocks above and behind everyone then a man stood up, sniper rifle in hand.
***
“If Johnson’s the Outsider, then he’s connected to the entire wasteland. How’s that possible?” Mathew asked.
“The mainframe, of course. It’s just like your mechs. Complicated AI run by human integration,” Specialist Nguyen answered, looking to the Lieutenant and back at Shiner/Mathew. “It’s common knowledge.”
“Maybe on the inside, but us out in the waste had no idea,” Mathew responded. “Kinda seems like a dangerous concentration of power.”
“What, like having one person in charge of several kilotons of weaponry and a 50 ton battle mech without an active Reaper chip?” Murphy laughed. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Well put,” Mathew agreed.
***
“So, there’s really no getting inside, is there?” Mathew asked.
“Not unless Johnson wants us to,” the Lieutenant answered.
Mathew sighed. “Well, let’s make him want to.”
The mech moved from the Special Ops team and walked down to the main gate.
“Hey Outsider!” Mathew called out. “I think you’ve been looking for us!”
Loudspeakers crackled to life. “And now you are here,” a voice boomed. “As all will be.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mathew said. “How about you let us in? I’m sure you’d want to study my mech.”
Laughter echoed off the rocks and ridges. “You have nothing for me!”
***
“Please can I drop some charges and blow the fuck out of those backstabbing Skinner bastards?” Rachel asked over the com.
“No, Baby Girl,” Capreze responded as the two mechs joined Jay’s and flanked the speeding Railer train. “They’re about to have 100,000 deaders on top of them. That’ll be revenge enough.”
“But they’re hidden,” Rachel insisted.
“Did you dispose of the Skinner or Rancher corpses?” Capreze asked.
“No.”
“Neither did I. Once those deaders have the scent, I don’t care how controlled they are, they’ll dig down looking for more. I don’t think the Outsider can override that bloodlust.”
***
Harlow wedged her right foot between two boulders inside the cave, gritted her teeth and pushed. The pain was unimaginable and she struggled with consciousness. Her strength and willpower nearly gave out just as a loud and painful pop echoed off the cave’s walls.
She laid back, glad that the agony of the dislocation was over. She knew she’d hurt for days, but at least mobility was possible.
“Okay, no time to puss out,” she muttered to herself and struggled upright. She put a little wait on the leg and winced, sure she had ripped something inside. “I eat pain…”
***
“I don’t get to meet the Harlow?” Stomper asked, the AI’s voice hurt and confused.
“No, Stomper, you don’t,” Masters stated flatly. “Harlow is no more.”
“But the Harlow is your soul?” Stomper persisted.
“And my soul is dead,” Masters responded.
Stomper processed a moment. “Then what is the point of our existence?”
“To kill,” Masters answered. “To kill the Outsider then to kill every last deader in the wasteland.”
Stomper was silent.
“I’m going to need you to dig deep and remember what it was like being a deader,” Masters continued. “I need you to give that to me.”
***
One step, two, three. The pain wasn’t too bad, she’d had worse. Harlow took an inventory of her supplies. She had her long blades, her sidearm and her survival pack. She regretted losing the carbine, but knew it would just get in the way when she undertook the inevitable slow climb up the cliff face.
Harlow instantly froze at the sound of a small gasp behind her. She unclasped her sidearm holster and turned slowly.
A little girl of six, maybe seven stood at the back of the cave, holding a handmade doll.
“Shhhh, I won’t hurt you,” Harlow soothed.
***
The little girl shook with fear, her eyes nearly popping from her skull.
“It’s okay,” Harlow said quietly, slowly inching towards the girl. “I’m not going-” Before she could finish the girl let out a blood-curdling scream, turned and dashed through an unseen crack in the cave’s back wall.
“Shit!” Harlow cursed, knowing she was about to have a lot of company. She limped to the edge of the cave, leaned out carefully and assessed the cliff face. There were plenty of holds for her to use, but it would be a very long climb on a very sore leg.
***
By the time she heard voices shouting in the cave, Harlow was already twenty feet above the opening.
“You had better just come down from there, girl,” one shouted. “There’s no place for you to go.”
Harlow ignored the voice and focused on her climbing. She made it another ten feet before the voice called out again. “Stop wasting time and come down. You’ll just tire yourself out climbing all the way to the top.”
Harlow glanced upward, checking her distance, and saw the many faces peering over the edge at her.
“Goddamn mother fucker,” she cursed, out of breath.
***
“I don’t want to kill anymore,” Stomper said.
“Hey, it’s not like we’ll be killing people, just those already dead,” Masters said.
Stomper processed. “I don’t want to be a killer, is what I mean.”
Masters tried to ignore what Stomper said, but the two were so fully integrated that he couldn’t shove the thought aside.
“You won’t have to be a killer,” Masters finally said. “I’ll do it for both of us. When the time comes you can just withdraw, go back into that place I had to put you before.”
“It’s dark in there,” Stomper said.
Masters groaned.
***
Many hands grabbed Harlow when she made it back down to the cave. She was handed roughly from Skinner to Skinner until she reached the crack in the cave wall. More hands reached out, pulling her through and into a stone tunnel.
She didn’t struggle, knowing she was outnumbered in unfamiliar territory. However, when a hood made of deader skin was pushed towards her head, she started to thrash, refusing to make the Skinners’ lives easy.
“Better kill me now fuckers!” she yelled.
“We have no intention of harming you, Pilot,” a woman’s voice said. “We plan on using you.”
***
Harlow was immediately relieved of her long blades and sidearm. She watched silently as her survival pack was ransacked and the supplies distributed amongst the Skinners.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” the woman asked Harlow.
Harlow refused to answer.
The woman stepped closer and the hands restraining Harlow gripped tighter.
“I was with Mastelo when members of the council met with your Commander.” The woman waited for a response. Getting none, she continued. “The council had no intention of honoring Mastelo’s agreement. We merely wanted to see the strength of your numbers, which, in hind sight, we grossly underestimated.”
***
The councilwoman walked away and Harlow was forced along behind her. “Now, since the Bishop’s, or I believe Archbishop now, deal did not turn out as expected, we will need to strike a new deal. We are hoping to use you as leverage.”
The group stepped out of the dark tunnel and into a massive cavern. Small holes in the ceiling helped illuminate the space with sunlight, but the main light source was from bright white phosphorescent patches covering the rock walls. Harlow peered about, taking in her surroundings. Skinners of all ages milled about the cavern.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
***
“You see,” the councilwoman kept on. “We are quite capable of self-sufficiency. Our society has flourished the past hundred years. We do not need protection or salvation from the wasteland. We are only looking to establish alliances that will best strengthen our way of life.”
“You have a strange sense of diplomacy,” Harlow said.
The councilwoman turned and eyed Harlow carefully. “Strange? Hardly. We had a choice between the few,” she nodded towards Harlow. “Or the many.” She gestured to the wasteland above. “It really wasn’t strange at all. Simple math.”
Harlow laughed. “You have no idea what’s up there.”
***
The councilwoman smiled condescendingly at the mech pilot. “We are fully aware of the shift of power occurring. That is why we already have a delegation above, waiting to speak to the Rancher army marching this way.” The councilwoman eyed the holes in the cavern’s ceiling. “They should be arriving now.”
It was then that Harlow noticed the growing vibrations for the first time. “You think those are Ranchers? You’re all fools. The army that’s coming can’t be negotiated with. You can’t deal with the dead.”
The councilwoman laughed. “Your attempts at deception are pitiful, pilot. I’d have expected better.”
***
The Skinners all became still and silent as the deader army marched and rolled above, shaking the cavern slightly. Men and women eyed the ceiling warily, the noise of the march reverberating off the glowing walls.
“You need to leave. You need to run. There is nothing but death up there. Trust me, it’s my job,” Harlow warned.
“Shhhhh!” the councilwoman scolded.
At once the march ceased, an ominous silence thickening the air.
“You see,” the councilwoman beamed triumphantly. “You were wrong.”
Harlow didn’t flinch as the first explosion, then the second brought dust and debris down on the Skinners.
***
“You were saying?” Harlow shouted over the terrified screams and yells of the Skinners.
The councilwoman waved her hands about, trying to get everyone’s attention. “Quiet! Quiet! I am sure those are just warning shots designed to show us their strength. I am positive no one has been harmed.”
“Who’d you blow to get on the council?” Harlow laughed. “You’re a fucking idiot if you believe your own bullshit.”
The councilwoman glared at Harlow. “I have had enough of your negativity.” She waved her hand at the two Skinners holding Harlow. “Secure her until we finish negotiations with the Ranchers.”
***
“You’re all going to die,” Harlow said to her Skinner guards. “There isn’t a living soul up above right now, nothing but thousands upon thousands of deaders. And I’m sure they are very, very hungry. Marching across the wasteland towards war can work up an appetite.”
“Shut it, woman,” one of the Skinners barked, yanking on Harlow’s arm.
“And you just volunteered to die first,” Harlow stated.
“If there’s death today, it’ll be yours,” the Skinner snarled back.
“What about you?” Harlow asked the other guard. “You feel like being eaten alive?”
“I trust the council,” the Skinner responded.
“Idiot.”
***
“They’re all dead!” a voice yelled. “Seal the entrance! They’re right behind-” But the Skinner never finished as his throat was ripped out.
The guards’ hands fell away from Harlow’s arms and she immediately planted her elbows into both Skinners’ throats. They dropped to their knees and Harlow slammed their heads together, rendering them unconscious. She grabbed her long blades from one of the guards, but didn’t see her sidearm. “Shit,” she muttered.
Strapping her blades to her back, she turned towards the main cave. Zombies poured into the cavern, falling on anyone unlucky enough to be in their way.
***
Screams of agony, screams of terror, pleas for help, pleas for mercy, all echoed within the cavern, but the sounds fell on dead ears.
Harlow scanned the wall of the cavern, finding what she hoped was the tunnel she had been brought through. She dashed for the tunnel, but stopped only feet away as deaders burst from the entrance. Her blades were in her hands without thinking and she went to work.
Hours, days, months, years of training kicked in and Harlow’s blades lashed out, perfect extensions of her body. She was a deadly blur of synchronized strength and agility.
***
Harlow fought alone.
Claws reached for her, but the hands fell, separated from rotting wrists. Teeth gnashed, searching for her skin, but the heads fell, severed from their shoulders.
Harlow was a graceful, beautiful machine of death. A goddess set upon the earth to do one thing: kick deader ass.
She thrust a blade through a zombie child, yanking up and out, splitting the torso up the middle. Kicking out, she knocked the true corpse to the ground. Seeing another zombie lunge, Harlow knelt quickly, raising both blades above her head, dicing the deader like a cook would a carrot.
***
Harlow rolled away, flicking the gore from her blades. She looked down at her uniform and the deader blood on it. The thin cloth, while tough against daily wear and tear, was not going to last against zombie claws.
Feet away, a deader gorged itself on the blood gushing from a Skinner’s throat, apparently the weak part of their attire. Harlow strode with purpose to the deader, dispatching attackers as they came at her.
She kicked in the deader’s head and pulled the Skinner corpse into a nearby hollow. With a wary eye, Harlow stripped the body of its hide.
***
Harlow managed to get her legs in the hide before she had to dispatch four zombies. She got her left arm in, dispatched three more zombies, then her right arm and again three more zombies were dispatched. By the time she had the hide secured upon her frame she was nearly concealed behind a stack of deader corpses.
Pulling on the skin hood and gloves, Harlow reached down and scooped a handful of the liquids leaking from the deaders and smeared them onto the Skinner armor. Hoping the camouflage would work, Harlow vaulted the pile, diving headlong into Hell itself.
***
Harlow ignored the Skinners she passed, leaving them to suffer the consequences of their selfish choices. Many of the Skinners had been lazy in their assumption of security, so had not donned their skins. Harlow kept her eyes averted as flesh and skin were ripped from screaming victims.
She slashed and killed as needed, but her progress was barley impeded by the deaders as they had so many other targets to choose from to satisfy their bloodlust and hunger. Some zombies that came close became confused by her presence, sensing the life in her. Those that focused too long fell.
***
“Please don’t kill me!” a man cried, eyeing the body of a Skinner Harlow had just killed. “I can get us out of here!”
Deaders spun at the sound of the human voice and charged. Harlow stepped in front of the man, her blades a whirl of gore smeared steel. “Shut the fuck up and show me! NOW!”
He pointed to a small opening two levels up, close to the ceiling of the cavern. Harlow surveyed the routes, chose one and moved.
“Hey! Wait!” the man called.
Harlow decapitated three zombies before turning on the man. “Shut the fuck up!”
***
Burying her blades in the skulls of two zombies, one on her right, the other on her left, Harlow let go of her weapons and focused on the deader coming straight for her, arms reaching, clawing at her.
She grabbed the outstretched limbs and yanked, pulling them from their sockets. The look on the zombie’s face was nearly comical, but was gone in a flash as Harlow bludgeoned the deader with its own severed arms.
All happened in a blink and Harlow had dropped the arms and pulled her blades free of the zombie skulls before the deaders could fall.
***
The man screamed, calling out, but Harlow didn’t bother turning, all of her attention focused on escape. She heard the cries, but compartmentalized them, tucked them away in her psyche. She owed no one.
The attacks grew more frequent and she was positive the deaders were fully aware she wasn’t one of them, her rouse beginning to fail.
Mere yards away, Harlow could not contain herself any longer and gave into the blinding berserker rage that had always been her core, that had always been her driving force.
Her mind went red and rationality stepped back.
Death incarnate stepped forward.
***
Harlow punched through the wasteland earth with her left arm, her right useless as she had to dislocate her shoulder in order to squeeze through the shaft not meant for human passage.
She kicked her legs and forced her upper half out of the ground. With her right arm pinned underneath her she positioned her body and rolled, popping the shoulder back into place.
She got to her knees and her lips peeled back in a vicious grin. Yards away stood the mech transport.
Now she would only need to annihilate the hundred or so zombies between her and it.
***
“I am Death! I am Death! I am Death!” she repeated over and over, her mantra of destruction, a chorus from Hell.
What humanity Harlow had left fell away in a baptism of red, black and grey gore. The only difference between her and the zombie horde that collapsed about her was her beating heart. A heart that slowed to a steady relaxing beat, as if she was merely taking an afternoon stroll.
The words continued flowing from her lips in a steady, unending chant. “I am Death! I am Death! I am Death! I AM DEATH! I AM DEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAATH!”
***
Like waking from a trance, Harlow found herself atop a heap of deader bodies, covered from head to toe in undead fluids. Inches from her was the transport’s ramp and she dreamily reached out and keyed in the lock code. The second the ramp began to descend she grabbed a hold of the edge, swung her body up and over and slid down into the transport. She immediately stopped the ramp’s descent, brining it back into locked position.
Tossing her soiled blades aside, she sat down at the controls as her chest tightened and she fought the encroaching adrenal crash.