Chapter 9
Marcus was at the bridge to Boston when the cure finally caught up with him. He felt a mind numbing pain rip through his body. It was as if somebody pressed a knife to his torso and let his organs fall out on their own. Marcus never felt such pain, and it dulled down to an ache when he swallowed half of the painkillers. His vision blurred, and he awakened with the car imbedded in a building on the wrong side of the bridge. Marcus started to walk across with paladin slung across his back. It felt heavy, so he pulled it off and dropped his favored bade upon the ground. He lifted his head, and lost his stomach when he saw what had happened to the city.
Even though it was still morning, the sky was black as night; the only source of light was the fires that engulfed the towers of the financial district. Marcus was sure he had entered hell as it started to rain ash. Marcus crossed the bridge and the few stray undead paid him no heed, as if they wanted him to enter the city. He left them alone and continued walking. Marcus’s ears were filled with the groaning and hissing of the light undead and the screaming if either the living or the new undead. Marcus did not know which he heard, but he did not want to know. As he reached the far side of the street, Marcus saw a large crater in the middle of the street. Marcus guessed that the military was responsible for the fires; they tried to contain the infection, he thought.
When he reached an intersection, Marcus saw hundreds of thousands of undead crowding the streets. They made a wall of flesh he dared not to approach on the left and front sides. His GPS told him to turn right, so either there was a great coincidence or a terrible plot that some sort of leader zombie conjured up for him. He thought about it for a second until he realized that the undead made another wall behind him, so he did not have a choice of where to go. This occurred several times afterward until he had a single turn left. When he made the turn, the GPS informed him that his destination was on the right side of the road. He looked to the right and saw the white steeple church before him. Marcus yelled, “What is it with your kind and churches? Why do you undead always gotta pervert the house of God?”
Marcus walked up to the church and pushed the entrance doors open. The only thing in the church that did not belong was the hole in the ceiling and the large crater in the general area of the altar. It wasn’t a direct hit, but the crater was large enough to engulf the front pews and the altar itself. Marcus saw thirty bodies lying around and wondered how many more died from the impact. He climbed into the crater and found a small pile of debris in the middle. He reached his hands inward and pulled out his Titanstone. It was a silver sphere covered in bronze studs every other inch. Excluding the studs, the orb was a little over a foot wide and weighed twenty pounds. Marcus picked it up and found a small triangle of three studs with ruby red tip and a single sharp stud in the middle. Marcus pressed his thumb, pinky, and his middle finger on the ruby studs and found a similar pattern on the other side. He did the same with his left hand and he felt a jolt of pain as the sharp studs penetrated his hide. Every bronze stud on the orb sprang out like a tentacle and they all latched onto Marcus, immobilizing him.
Just when he was most vulnerable, another behemoth came into the church. This one brought down half of the church with it and brushed debris off his body as he approached Marcus’s body. Marcus knew he could not fight, so he did not move. He relaxed every muscle in his body as the behemoth plucked him off the ground and swallowed the little ball of metallic tentacles whole. The last Marcus saw of daylight was what scant light came out from between the giant’s teeth as the muscles pulled him down.
Marcus was staring into the void. It was a vast sea of black with utter nothingness. Then he saw her, the possessed queen stood before him. He could see her eyes. They were even more drained than the void. There was simply nothing there. They were wide, white, and open. Her arms reached out from the void and pulled him in for a kiss. She gave him a wry, emotionless smile as she embraced him and twisted him to her will.
As three hundred thousand of his loyal servants stood around him, the beast roared its triumph over his master’s foe. He could finally feast on the humans his master kept him away from and focus on satisfying his hunger. The beast was not joyous, but its pain was slightly lessened by the enemy in his stomach. As if his master could see his pain, the form in his stomach grew until he was full. Then it was too much. It begged mercy from its master as its body was ripped apart. The massive form came apart like cocoon, but no butterfly was present.
The behemoth exploded into a shower of gore and a bloodied silver dragon let out a flame that engulfed the sky. The top of Marcus’s head was a single scale that acted like a plate of armor. The scale held three horns with the third over his eyes, giving him an angry, menacing look. Below his scaled ear were four spikes that protruded like teeth from the bake of his gaunt cheeks. Going across the top and bottom of his body was lines of large scales that protected his chest, stomach, and back. Between them were small scales that acted as mail armor. Marcus’s legs held only a few large scales that stuck up like oversized plate armor. His claws had the same number of appendages as hands and he flexed his talon tipped fingers to make sure they worked. His tail was tipped with a silver spade that was not sharp, but was still large enough to rip a nearby car in half.
Marcus wanted to see how well he could fly, and he used his powerful hind legs to propel himself upward. His wings refused to unfold. Marcus slammed into a nearby building and it splintered away. He climbed out of the wreckage and tried to learn how to use his wings before taking flight. Marcus was able to stretch them outward, but it wasn’t enough. He leapt up again, and the air took them in its grasp and unfolded them the final few degrees that allowed him to float for a second. Marcus flapped them and flew around Boston. He was quickly accustomed to the new body and tried to breathe a flame. It took a few tries, but he was able to breathe a small flame. Marcus scorched the thousands of undead around him and flew around the city, burning any undead he saw.
When he was satisfied that the undead threat from Boston was eliminated, Marcus turned north and caught the northwestern draft to pull himself along. As Marcus few off toward his friends, he remarked, “Too bad Dem couldn’t see this; he’d be scared shitless.”
And so, our hero turned beast, for his friends, his family, and the survival of the human race, flew off into the wild blue yonder.
Even though it was still morning, the sky was black as night; the only source of light was the fires that engulfed the towers of the financial district. Marcus was sure he had entered hell as it started to rain ash. Marcus crossed the bridge and the few stray undead paid him no heed, as if they wanted him to enter the city. He left them alone and continued walking. Marcus’s ears were filled with the groaning and hissing of the light undead and the screaming if either the living or the new undead. Marcus did not know which he heard, but he did not want to know. As he reached the far side of the street, Marcus saw a large crater in the middle of the street. Marcus guessed that the military was responsible for the fires; they tried to contain the infection, he thought.
When he reached an intersection, Marcus saw hundreds of thousands of undead crowding the streets. They made a wall of flesh he dared not to approach on the left and front sides. His GPS told him to turn right, so either there was a great coincidence or a terrible plot that some sort of leader zombie conjured up for him. He thought about it for a second until he realized that the undead made another wall behind him, so he did not have a choice of where to go. This occurred several times afterward until he had a single turn left. When he made the turn, the GPS informed him that his destination was on the right side of the road. He looked to the right and saw the white steeple church before him. Marcus yelled, “What is it with your kind and churches? Why do you undead always gotta pervert the house of God?”
Marcus walked up to the church and pushed the entrance doors open. The only thing in the church that did not belong was the hole in the ceiling and the large crater in the general area of the altar. It wasn’t a direct hit, but the crater was large enough to engulf the front pews and the altar itself. Marcus saw thirty bodies lying around and wondered how many more died from the impact. He climbed into the crater and found a small pile of debris in the middle. He reached his hands inward and pulled out his Titanstone. It was a silver sphere covered in bronze studs every other inch. Excluding the studs, the orb was a little over a foot wide and weighed twenty pounds. Marcus picked it up and found a small triangle of three studs with ruby red tip and a single sharp stud in the middle. Marcus pressed his thumb, pinky, and his middle finger on the ruby studs and found a similar pattern on the other side. He did the same with his left hand and he felt a jolt of pain as the sharp studs penetrated his hide. Every bronze stud on the orb sprang out like a tentacle and they all latched onto Marcus, immobilizing him.
Just when he was most vulnerable, another behemoth came into the church. This one brought down half of the church with it and brushed debris off his body as he approached Marcus’s body. Marcus knew he could not fight, so he did not move. He relaxed every muscle in his body as the behemoth plucked him off the ground and swallowed the little ball of metallic tentacles whole. The last Marcus saw of daylight was what scant light came out from between the giant’s teeth as the muscles pulled him down.
Marcus was staring into the void. It was a vast sea of black with utter nothingness. Then he saw her, the possessed queen stood before him. He could see her eyes. They were even more drained than the void. There was simply nothing there. They were wide, white, and open. Her arms reached out from the void and pulled him in for a kiss. She gave him a wry, emotionless smile as she embraced him and twisted him to her will.
As three hundred thousand of his loyal servants stood around him, the beast roared its triumph over his master’s foe. He could finally feast on the humans his master kept him away from and focus on satisfying his hunger. The beast was not joyous, but its pain was slightly lessened by the enemy in his stomach. As if his master could see his pain, the form in his stomach grew until he was full. Then it was too much. It begged mercy from its master as its body was ripped apart. The massive form came apart like cocoon, but no butterfly was present.
The behemoth exploded into a shower of gore and a bloodied silver dragon let out a flame that engulfed the sky. The top of Marcus’s head was a single scale that acted like a plate of armor. The scale held three horns with the third over his eyes, giving him an angry, menacing look. Below his scaled ear were four spikes that protruded like teeth from the bake of his gaunt cheeks. Going across the top and bottom of his body was lines of large scales that protected his chest, stomach, and back. Between them were small scales that acted as mail armor. Marcus’s legs held only a few large scales that stuck up like oversized plate armor. His claws had the same number of appendages as hands and he flexed his talon tipped fingers to make sure they worked. His tail was tipped with a silver spade that was not sharp, but was still large enough to rip a nearby car in half.
Marcus wanted to see how well he could fly, and he used his powerful hind legs to propel himself upward. His wings refused to unfold. Marcus slammed into a nearby building and it splintered away. He climbed out of the wreckage and tried to learn how to use his wings before taking flight. Marcus was able to stretch them outward, but it wasn’t enough. He leapt up again, and the air took them in its grasp and unfolded them the final few degrees that allowed him to float for a second. Marcus flapped them and flew around Boston. He was quickly accustomed to the new body and tried to breathe a flame. It took a few tries, but he was able to breathe a small flame. Marcus scorched the thousands of undead around him and flew around the city, burning any undead he saw.
When he was satisfied that the undead threat from Boston was eliminated, Marcus turned north and caught the northwestern draft to pull himself along. As Marcus few off toward his friends, he remarked, “Too bad Dem couldn’t see this; he’d be scared shitless.”
And so, our hero turned beast, for his friends, his family, and the survival of the human race, flew off into the wild blue yonder.