Island of the Dead, page 16
“Sleep?” Chuy glanced outside. “But it is still daytime. I know the storm has darkened the sky, but there is a sun somewhere above it.”
“We have not been afforded a full night’s rest since being shipwrecked here,” Einar said. “And unless you slept okay in the hull of that war galley, then it has been even longer for you and me. We should take advantage of this storm and the relative safety of this cave while we can. Chuy, you take first watch over Fhad. Wake me for second shift. Mathias can have third.”
“And if Fhad is alive come tomorrow?” Mathias asked.
“Then we see about keeping the rest of us alive, as well.”
TWELVE
As it happened, it was two full days before they could leave the cave. On the first night, the storm continued raging unabated, dumping rain and sundering the darkness with lightning. The fearsome winds howled like a pack of wolves, and all night they heard trees splintering and crashing from afar.
Fhad awoke only once, gripped by sudden and severe stomach cramps that caused him to lose control of his bowels. He moaned in discomfort, loud enough to wake Einar and Mathias from their sleep. Luckily, he was conscious enough to jump up, remove his garments, and find a secluded corner of the cave in which to do his business. Chuy tended to him from a distance, recoiling at the stench. Fhad groaned pitifully, and his entire body trembled. The act left him so exhausted that Chuy and Einar both had to assist him in returning to the spot near the fire.
At first, they chalked his intestinal discomfort up to the sickness inside of him or the herbal remedies that Chuy had administered, but within the hour, the rest of them began to experience the same symptoms—overcome by sudden and vicious abdominal cramps, followed by an uncontrollable release. They did not sleep for the rest of the night. After much pained debate, they decided that the feast in the village was the most likely culprit for their distress. They had gorged themselves that night, after existing on the meager offerings of the slave galley before that, and the broken fast in the banana grove.
Dawn eventually came round again, offering a respite from the darkness, if not the rain, which continued to pound the island in cold, windswept sheets. Fhad woke again and remained conscious this time. He was very weak, but his fever had not returned, and his complexion was better. Gone was the gray hue from before. His stomach had settled, as well, which gave his companions hope that theirs would follow suit.
They had nothing to eat in the cave, but fresh water was in abundance, and they replenished themselves freely, cupping their hands beneath the waterfall. All four were careful not to extend their arms too far, as the force of the plunging water was tremendous. Below them, the lagoon had been transformed into a broad lake, submerging much of the immediate land around it. Einar eyed the water level warily, trying to determine if it was rising higher, or just expanding.
By noon, they all felt better and rehydrated. At their insistence, Fhad continued to rest, and the others finally felt well enough to sleep. They took turns, but this time, instead of keeping an eye on their recuperating companion, they watched the lagoon, ready to raise the alarm if it threatened to flood their hideaway.
By the second nightfall, boredom and hunger had set in. Fhad slept again, while Chuy and Mathias spoke in hushed tones about their lives before this. Chuy talked of the various wares and services he’d sold over the years, and of his many romantic conquests, and of his deep sorrow and regret—now that he was older—of never having a wife or children of his own, so focused he’d been on growing his wealth and bedding the wives of others. Mathias shared more about growing up as the child of nobility, hiding his gender, and the depression and confusion both had caused throughout his young life. The fire had died by then, and they had no more dry fuel to burn, so they sat close together for warmth against the chill and damp. Einar listened to them but said nothing, pacing the length of the cave in long, heavy strides, hands behind his back and his expression locked in a perpetual scowl. After another hour had passed, Mathias called out.
“Einar, what troubles you? I have not known you long, but I know that expression on your face means that you are thinking.”
The barbarian stopped and turned, and then grunted with surprise. “You are correct, lad. I once knew a barmaid who called that my ‘thinking face.’ I often wonder what has happened to her, in the years since. Alas, she is far from here.”
Mathias leaned forward. “What was her name?”
Ignoring the question, Einar gestured toward the waterfall. “I was thinking about the dead, and our escape plan. If you are right, and we cannot find the means with which to build a raft, then I believe we should consider fortifying this cave. It is well-hidden and easily protected.”
“But you said we could not stand against the horde,” Chuy reminded him. “What has changed your mind?”
“Nothing has changed my mind. We could not stand long against the horde. But we could possibly wait them out. Our enemies are corpses, and we have seen signs of decay upon them already. When this storm passes and the heat returns, it might not take long for them to decompose past the point where they can bother us any longer. We might only have to wait it out here. Sooner or later, they’ll have to rot away to nothing, as all dead things do.”
“A valid point,” Mathias said, “but such a situation would be unhealthy. Think of all the diseases and illnesses that are borne by the plague winds. There is a reason most societies bury or burn their dead.”
Chuy nodded. “The youth is right. Such a situation might lead to an even worse death for us than being chewed upon by them.”
Einar stood staring at them for a moment. Then he sighed. “All the more reason to leave this place then, and with haste.”
The rain lessened throughout the second day and by evening it had ceased altogether. They finally breached the waterfall and surveyed their surroundings. The lagoon was noticeably receding to its normal parameters. An eerie silence descended upon the island. Gone were the sounds of the wind and falling trees, but gone, too, were the songs of the birds and insects. Even the waterfall felt muted, as its flow slowly returned to normal. The only constant was the soft patter of water droplets falling off leaves in the forest.
They slept in fitful shifts that night, and none of them slumbered deeply. Both Chuy and Mathias called out in their native tongues, lost in dreams of their own. By morning, their hunger was so great that they were in physical pain.
“How do you feel?” Einar asked Fhad. “Ready to rejoin the fight?”
The big man rose slowly, grunting with the effort. Then he stood facing Einar. “I can stand. And I can hold a sword without my hand shaking.”
“Good.” Einar clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s a start. Think you can hike?”
Fhad nodded. “I may be a little slower, but I can walk.”
“Then let us go see what we can see.”
One by one, they ducked under the waterfall and ventured from the cave to find that the island had changed. The floodwaters had receded, leaving behind flattened foliage, scattered jumbles of uprooted trees and boulders, dark puddles, and a layer of thick, reeking mud that was slowly hardening in the sunlight and heat. The landscape had changed so drastically that they were unsure of their bearings. All previous landmarks had been washed away or destroyed. Debris lay everywhere. Overhead, the sky was clear and blue again adorned with a few white clouds hovering lazily. The wind, so monstrously powerful a day before, was now still. While the birds, insects, and other creatures were still muted, the heat and humidity had returned, oppressive in their insistence.
The group made their way slowly around the edge of the lagoon, choosing their footing carefully. The rocks were slippery, and the mud sucked at their feet, reaching above their ankles in some spots. Einar paused and studied their surroundings. The others waited patiently behind him. After a few moments, he spoke.
“The village lies yonder.” He pointed. “But I think we should seek high ground first.”
“Why?” Mathias asked. “The rains have ceased. Surely the flooding is over?”
“Aye, the waters have receded, but look around us, lad. This storm was destructive in its fury. Nothing escaped its path save us four. I would see how it has changed things before we act any further. It may have hindered or helped our plan. And the zombies are not our only enemies on this island. We still have the ants and any remaining villagers to contend with. At the very least, I’m sure the flooding impacted the ants. It may have flushed them from their dens and tunnels, in which case, they’ll be even more dangerous than before. They may be swarming across the surface.”
“Where do you suggest we go?” Chuy asked.
“The hilltop where Mathias and I rescued you. That provided a good view of the landscape. And there will likely be less of this mud there.”
Chuy groaned. “My arse burns from yesterday’s sickness. I loathe to think how it will feel after hiking that far.”
“It will feel even worse with my foot stuck halfway up it.” Einar grinned. “Come now. Let us not waste the day. If we are lucky, we’ll find some food along the way, as well.”
They squelched along slowly—Einar in the lead, followed by Mathias, Chuy, and then Fhad. As they proceeded, the island slowly returned to life around them. The insects came first, buzzing and whirring. These were soon followed by the birds, circling overhead and flitting from the tops of trees still left standing. They also came across fresh tracks in the mud—a wild boar, heading further inland, and several deer. They encountered no living people and only two corpses. One was a dead Atlantean crushed beneath a fallen tree. The other was a zombie pinned beneath a pile of debris and half-submerged in the mud. It thrashed and clawed at them uselessly, sputtering and hissing from a mouth full of broken teeth. Cursing, Einar picked up a large rock and smashed the creature’s head in.
They found bananas and berries, and ate these as they walked, but nothing more substantial. Despite the impact it had had on his stomach, Einar found himself thinking back to the feast in the village. What he wouldn’t give for more of that right now. Then his thoughts turned to the matron and the mute servant boy, and he frowned.
Often their progress was impeded by deadfalls or piles of debris, and they had to double back, retracing steps they’d already taken. They were delayed not only by the terrain but by Fhad, as well. The warrior moved slowly, still recovering from his injuries and the sickness that had followed. But he did not complain nor ask for a break. He trod along steadfastly and determinedly.
It was past midday before they finally reached the hilltop. When they had completed their ascent, they finally rested, sprawling on the wet, flattened grass. Einar shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun and gazed about them, surveying each direction.
“It is as I feared. Look there!”
Far below them, between the hill and the ocean, lay a vast sodden plain swarming with giant ants. They skittered about, frantic and frenzied. Some carried squirming pupae in their mandibles.
“We would be wise to steer clear of that area,” Fhad said.
“Aye.” Nodding, Einar turned inland. “There is the village, although a haze lies over it. I can’t see much.”
The others squinted, staring into the distance.
“Nor can I,” Mathias said. “If it is occupied, we are too far away to see clearly.”
“So how do we find out then?” Chuy asked.
Einar began to descend the hill. Without looking back, he said, “We go and see.”
Mathias and Fhad followed. Chuy shook his head.
“I was afraid you would say that.”
They reached the outskirts of the village by noon, having fought and slogged their way across the path of destruction left in the wake of the storm, and by the time they stood at the edge of the meadow, they were covered in mud and insect bites. They delayed there for a moment, exhausted, catching their breath and surveying the area. The meadow itself had escaped any significant damage. The wildflowers and grasses were trampled flat, but much of that had happened during the battle, rather than due to the driving rains. There were a few ruts and ditches caused by rushing stormwater, and a few fallen trees, but otherwise, it was unobstructed. The black stone obelisks still stood strong except for the one that Einar and Fhad had toppled. Beyond them was where the ruin began. The haze they’d seen from the hilltop still hung over the area, but their visibility was better from this vantage point and what they saw wasn’t much. Caught between the fire, the storm, and the rampaging hordes, the village had been all but eradicated.
Chuy sighed deeply and his shoulders sank.
“What ails you?” Einar asked. “Don’t tell me you have sympathy for these bastards. They wanted to lynch us, and almost succeeded!”
“Not all of them desired that,” Mathias said quietly.
“I was hoping to find a pipe and tobacco,” Chuy explained. “Of all the things I’ve missed since my imprisonment and enslavement, sitting with a pipe has been the most. I miss it more than women or drink. Perhaps even more than gold.”
Einar grunted. “I doubt you’ll find any of that here now, but when we get back to the mainland, you can have all the pipes and tobacco you like.”
“Have we given any thought to that?” Mathias asked.
Einar turned to the youth. “Any thought to what?”
“To where we will go once we’ve completed the raft? I daresay I can’t return to my homeland. I’d risk being branded a mutineer or at the very least absent without leave during wartime. Both carry a death sentence.”
Einar shrugged. “Any soldier who could name you as such is dead now. Or the walking dead. Neither seems inclined to point fingers or accuse.”
“I will return home,” Fhad said. “Rowing with the three of you shall be only the start of my journey.”
“How far away is your home country?” Chuy asked.
“Very far, I am afraid.” He paused. “The three of you would be most welcome to join me there. We could travel together.”
“We aren’t going anywhere until we build the means to do so,” Einar said. “Let’s find some tools, if there are any still left in usable condition.”
He stepped forward and plodded up the hill. The others followed him, weapons at the ready.
A silence hung over the ruins and a deep, encompassing gloom surrounded the place. As they passed the toppled obelisk, the haze grew thinner and the totality of what had occurred became apparent. Most of the wooden structures had burned to the ground, leaving behind only charred timbers and wet coals, and piles of misshapen lumps that had once been their contents. The sprawling, elaborate gardens were now blackened ruins. Many of the stone buildings and structures had crumbled, and those few that remained standing hadn’t escaped undamaged. Their walls were smudged with smoke. In some cases, they had cracked from the heat. Many of their roofs had collapsed. Curiously, there very were few corpses—reanimated or otherwise. They spotted only a half dozen bodies, all of which had been so badly burned that their remains were like wet charcoal. A strange, nauseating stench filled the air—a mix of dampness, mildew, smoke, blood, and cooked meat.
Einar halted at a street intersection and glanced at the cracked and blackened cobblestones. Then he looked up again and gazed around in frustration.
“Not a single usable timber left standing. At least not that I can see.”
“Aye.” Fhad’s tone was dejected. “And I doubt we’ll find any rope or nails left untouched, either. Not to mention a bolt of cloth for a sail.”
“There must be something,” Mathias said. “We just have to be thorough in our search.”
“The lad is correct,” Chuy agreed. “I’ve had some experience finding valuables in warehouses full of junk and estate sales full of unwanted rubbish. Many of these stone buildings are still standing. Their exteriors may be damaged, but their interiors might tell a different story.”
“Perhaps we should split up and search,” Mathias suggested.
“We’re not splitting up,” Einar said. “That would be stupid. We stick together. But yes, I suppose we should continue sea—”
Pausing, he cocked his head and listened.
“What is it?” Chuy whispered.
“Listen,” Einar replied.
Slowly, they all heard it—a strange chorus of soft moans and wet smacking. The noise was coming from the town square on the other side of the domed structure they currently faced.
“What is that?” Fhad murmured.
The breeze shifted, blowing toward them.
“There’s a foulness in the air,” Mathias whispered.
“Zombies.” Chuy shivered.
Einar hefted his sword in one hand and beckoned at them to follow. He crept slowly, stealthily across the street and around the corner of the building. The sounds grew louder with each step. So did the stench.
One by one, they peeked around the corner, and what they saw horrified them. The dead had gathered en masse in the courtyard, turning it into a slaughterhouse. Corpses lay everywhere, and zombies—a mix of slaves, soldiers, and villagers—fed upon them like diners at some sort of hellish royal buffet. The cobblestones glistened with gore and offal.
“Gods…” Chuy choked, turning away.
Einar motioned at his companions to retreat, but as he did, the nearest zombie, ripping a strip of flesh from a swollen abdomen, glanced in their direction. The creature stopped chewing and slowly clambered to its feet. Others around it stopped what they were doing and spied them as well. A great moan went up from the wretched assembly, and they began to shuffle, crawl, and wriggle toward the foursome.
“Run,” Einar barked, turning around. “Run like hell itself is on our heels!”
“I think it is,” Fhad shouted.
They fled, and the dead followed.
THIRTEEN
As they raced through the village, more of the creatures—perhaps attracted by the commotion—stumbled from the shattered dwellings and other buildings, clambering over piles of debris and fallen pillars, moaning with filth-crusted mouths and grasping with tattered, fish-belly white hands. A few of the dead lurched in front of them, but Einar and Fhad dropped the corpses without stopping, lopping their heads from their bodies.
