The Black Page 16

  The man behind Dave tugged hard on his collar, sharply cutting off his air. The motion pulled to the side, dragging Dave down. His grip tore away from Serif, and he stumbled, his feet caught on a short brickwork wall and he tripped over the edge, falling onto the opposite side. The man’s dragging grip was gone.

  A blade swished through the darkness, and the sickening thud of metal on bone could be heard. Dave flattened himself to the ground, his hand tight on the handle of his own weapon.

  There was a crackle like tearing cardboard and a puff. Screams followed. Each made Dave cringe and pull away from the blackness around him. It sounded as though people were being set on fire.

  It was the dust.

  Dave’s throat went dry, knowing the blissful incapacitating effect it had. He rose, carefully stepping away from the fighting. Something moved by quickly in the grass, and he paused. Panicking, he froze. Was it enemy or friend that had brushed by him?

  “Cat,” Dave whispered aloud, and the movement stopped. A hissing like breathing through gritted teeth increased as the sound moved toward him. Dave realized his error and began to move away, but the noise was following, shuffling along, a sniffing noise like a dog searching for a morsel of meat in the grass.

  Dave reached out and felt a brick wall behind him. He shuffled along its length, away from the creature hunting him in the darkness.

  A clatter resonated from next to him as his hand felt the vibration of the metal blade banging against an unseen wrought iron fence. The sound was horrendous, echoing across the park. Soon he could hear the hissing closing in. More clattering teeth shifted toward him in the dark, and he pressed his back against the corner.

  Dry skin dragged across the brickwork to his left, and he could feel the iron fence shake as more hands were guided along it toward him.

  Brandishing his weapon, his hands shook as he raised it.

  A soft yellow glow appeared from the ground, rising like a mist. Dim sparks floated upward. He wondered for a moment if someone had set light to the dry grass, or if he had disturbed a cluster of fireflies.

  The weak orange glow illuminated the red-wrapped bodies of the zealots as they inched toward him. Their arms were reaching out, feeling in the dark.

  Dave’s heart skipped as he realized that if he could see them, they could see him.

  In the small pool of light they searched, turning and moving. Each time a noise rang out they paused, reorienting. Dave counted five of them. The light was beginning to diminish, and his moment of advantage would not last.

  Swallowing hard, he stepped forward, lashing out at first, expecting the creature to raise its own club-like weapon, but the blade swung cleanly through the front of the man’s neck, spilling his lifeblood onto the grass.

  The shuffling thud of the body made the others turn, their outstretched hands feeling in the dark for the noise-maker.

  Dave attempted to slide by the next, but the movement of the grass gave away his position, and the zealot charged forward blindly.

  Holding his blade level, Dave braced, and the creature’s momentum impaled its chest on the sharp point. Fingers grasped and clawed at Dave before the effort eventually ceased.

  His heart pounded as he quietly lowered the carcass. Withdrawing his blade from the body, he could see another blind zealot moving toward the commotion.

  Dave sidestepped and slid the heavy metal across the man’s abdomen, spilling its contents onto the grass. The mummified creature wheeled, ignoring the lost entrails. It turned and grabbed Dave’s collar, still dragging its own organs across the dry grass.

  Panic rose, and Dave punched out with his other hand, knocking the man in the head with a solid blow. The zealot’s grip did not weaken, and the impossibly strong arms pulled him in closer to the clacking jaw.

  Switching the weapon from his trapped arm, Dave drove it under the man’s jaw at the last minute, and the body froze, softening and eventually falling to the ground.

  The sparks swirled around him, lining up along a small path. Moving forward, he took advantage of the light. Before him he could see the others either lying on the ground writhing or fighting for their lives. Most swung wildly, and Dave stepped between them, dodging the blades, impaling and chopping at their forms. His strong hands made light work of the blind zealots. Turning, he counted only five figures left standing.

  “Cat!” he called out and the figures turned toward him, eyes wide, scanning the dark for any light.

  “Hunter,” came the first voice, and the others repeated the noise.

  “I’m coming to you,” Dave said, walking carefully over to the first man, staying out of range of the blade.

  “I’m standing in front of you. Come to me,” Dave stated, and the man gingerly stepped forward, hesitating at the body that lay in front of him.

  “Hold my collar,” Dave whispered, taking the man’s hand and guiding it toward his back. With the fingers firmly wrapped, Dave moved forward with the man in tow. Not wanting to trust the duration of the sparks, he moved quickly, taking advantage of the fading light.

  The next woman linked up in a similar fashion, followed by the third, the fourth, and the fifth. They snaked around and found Serif holding his hand, which was bleeding. He flinched and turned, pointing his weapon at Dave.

  “Cat,” Dave said.

  “Hunter,” Serif said weakly. Blood was colouring the rag wrapped around the wrist of his sword arm.

  “Stand up, come to us,” Dave said, and his friend complied slowly. He felt along the length of the group, and hands guided him to the rear.

  Dave continued searching; a rise in the ethereal light revealed a few more stragglers. Soon they were moving toward the far side again, and Dave spotted a small figure curled up under a concrete bench.

  “Cat,” Dave stated quietly.

  “Hunter,” the young girl said. She crawled out toward the noise, and Dave grabbed her collar. Dave could see her eyes were wet; she had been crying silently out of fear.

  “Move to the back,” he whispered.

  Behind them a light began to glow, and Dave turned to see subtle flickers of light emanating from the building they had occupied. Realizing that the fire would build, he moved quickly, looking for others who might have survived or been scattered.

  Dave stopped at one point, allowing a staggering zealot to move toward them before he cut it down silently. The body crumpled on the hard stone walkway. Moving to the far brick building, he could see a group of zealots picking up the limp but weakly struggling bodies of the first two teams.

  They had successfully intercepted the first two teams in the dark, and their next safe house was already overrun with zealots and the newly infected.

  The gentle light arced away from the house to his left, and he followed, sticking to the path so that their feet would move silently on the stone. Weaving through the growing number of zealots, he trailed the group to the edge of the park and across the street through two rusted cars.

  For a half hour, he moved down the alleyways and between buildings. It didn’t matter what direction they were heading, as long as the light held and they were safe from the zealots.

  Crossing the street to a small pub, he stepped through the open space where the front door once stood, into the rotten interior. Moving through it, he followed the light until it led him to the back. The tiles of the men’s bathroom still clung to the walls, and the group filtered inward silently.

  Dave grabbed the arm of the man who was holding his collar and pulled it away, placing it on the counter near the sink.

  Stepping away from the group, Dave stuck his head out the door and looked at the silent hallway. The faint yellow glow had guided them to safety. Smiling, he considered how similar it was to the glow he had seen so often in the tunnel.

  As soon as he reached out for the mosquito-like sparks, the light rose for a moment and then dissipated, leaving him in darkness.

  Stepping back into the bathroom, he closed the door and felt along the wall.


  “I think we are safe here until morning,” he said, listening to the group shuffle against the walls.

  “Thank you,” came a soft female voice from the darkness. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome,” Dave said.

  Chapter 21

  The growing dim grey light crept slowly under the door of the pub bathroom. The group had spent the night silently cooped up, never daring to speak to avoid drawing the attention of anyone passing by. In the dark, Serif had bandaged his forearm, and it was resting in his lap as his head drooped from exhaustion. Genie was nowhere to be seen.

  Dave tried to find familiar faces, but the group was comprised of people who had arrived in the house throughout the day.

  He wondered how many had been lost in the dark due to the surprise attack. The other two teams had been quickly scattered.

  “We should get moving,” Serif said, raising his head. His face was white, and when he stood, his body swayed back and forth. His good arm leaned on the nearby wall for support. The others rose slowly, getting used to the idea that they would have to leave the confines of their safe haven and venture out into the light again.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” Dave asked.

  “No, but we have little choice. The zealots are in the area now in large numbers. We will die if we stay here and might die if we move forward. For both of our sakes, we have to move. If we are caught here, your world and my own will die. We cannot go back to the council, and it’s likely the queen knows where we are heading.”

  “You make it sound easy,” Dave said, smiling weakly.

  “It won’t be,” Serif said.

  Dave quietly opened the door, slowly sticking his head into the hallway. To his right, the back door next to the washroom was off its hinges and lying flat on the crumbling asphalt outside, while to his left the diffuse light streamed through the small windows of the pub.

  Drawing his crude sword, Dave moved through the rear exit and scanned for movement. Immediately after him followed the small scout girl. He looked at her and whispered, “Which way to the building?”

  She pointed toward the mouth of the alley, and Dave crept forward, looking around every corner with suspicion and hesitation. The loose gang followed close behind. Serif struggled to find a strong pace. Over time his movement improved, but not to the level where he had been the day before.

  The girl pointed out each turn and street while Dave assessed the level of risk of being out in the open. They continued for over an hour until Dave poked his head around a corner; a dozen zealots were milling about in the street.

  “What are they doing?” Dave asked Serif, who had pushed his way forward.

  “Congregating. They do this when they have no direction from the queen. They will dust themselves as a group soon. Others will arrive for the queen’s sacrament. We need to find another way.

  It’s going to take too long to go around,” Serif stated.

  A small stone hit Dave in the face, and he stifled a grunt. Holding his cheek, he lifted his head, looking for the cause. Another stone hit him in the forehead.

  Dave looked up. Genie was leaning over the edge of a elevated walkway. She waved at them to come up to her. Dave could see the overhead walkway crossing between the two buildings above the zealots.

  “It’s Genie. She’s on the walkway. If we can get to that floor it should take us right over them,” Dave explained.

  Serif nodded. “It will be the fastest, but we will need to be silent.”

  Dave nodded and turned to lead the group away from the street and back down the block. Making a hard left, he stepped into the broken doors of a mall and crept along the shadowy remains of the shops. Their feet carved a trail across the floor. Each store was looted long ago and emptied of its contents. Storefronts were torn open and racks spilled out into the main walk. Carefully, they picked their way through the strewn metal.

  Stepping up an escalator, he found a sign indicating an exit to a parkade via the overhead walk.

  Dave gently pressed the door open, and the metal groaned slightly. He paused. No sounds of movement from below. Sighing, he pressed open the door a bit more. He could see Genie across the walkway at the other building. She beckoned again.

  “Move,” Dave whispered to the group as he held the door. Each of them slipped through, one after another. Afterward, he gently closed it, wincing at the click of the lock.

  The group had stopped halfway down the covered walkway, and Dave realized that the glass walls were almost gone, spidered by some long ago impact, but yet to fall.

  He looked down and could see the cluster of zealots gathering in close. The cluster of creatures slipped off their robes, exposing naked skin, yellowed and bruised. The fat on their bodies had long ago been used up as nourishment, exposing bony shoulders, ribs, and spines.

  Dave continued on, trying not to stare at the spectacle. Stepping lightly, he moved across the open ground, keeping out of their line of sight. Once on the other side and clear, he waved Serif across, all the while keeping an eye on the zealots below. Genie patted him on the back and smiled.

  Dave wondered where she had hidden herself away. The idea of being alone in the dark with the creatures wandering around terrified him. Even the idea that they were this close made panic rise in his gut.

  Below, the huddled bodies crowded inward, shoulder to shoulder. Dave could only just watch as each raised a tube and broke it open. Silt-like dust filled their hands. As one, they spread it on their naked torsos and writhed in ecstasy.

  Dave couldn’t help but watch it take hold of them, and it reminded him of how Sue had looked once when he had taken her to the hospital.

  They were detached from reality, each in their personal moment of transfixion. He mused that if they were lucky, the rest of the zealots would be bewitched by their own cravings and might be occupied for hours.

  Dave turned away from the hive of bodies and followed the survivors. They Filtering into the far parkade door, they jogged across the second floor and down the ramp, jumping the short distance to the street below. Dave lowered Serif to a safe height for the weakened man to let go and land clumsily. The loss of blood had put his typically graceful feet off kilter.

  Above them on the second floor a door slammed open, and Dave could hear the patter of shoeless feet slapping against the ground.

  “Go! Go!” he whispered quietly to the group, and they bolted quickly up the street, away from their hunters. After a few more turns and some sprinting, Serif spoke up. “I think we have lost them.”

  His face was pink now, flushed with life.

  “You look better,” Dave said.

  “I feel horrible.” The man laughed quietly.

  For a few moments they stood in the mouth of an alley, taking a breather. Someone produced a leather water bag, and Dave passed the container to his friend. Serif drank greedily from its contents but showed restraint after a moment, handing it back.

  “How much farther to the graveyard?” Serif asked the girl.

  “Not far, a few more blocks,” she said, pointing at a growing open expanse at the end of the street.

  Serif, feeling a bit more his old self, checked that each man and woman was ready to continue before beginning to jog toward the indicated direction. Dave was thankful that the man’s stride was shortened by his loss of blood and found himself still having trouble keeping up. Genie took up the rear, but Dave considered that she was watching her friend.

  Dodging wreckage and the occasional pile of rubble from a collapsed building, they plodded along unhindered toward the horizon.

  Chapter 22

  “What the hell?” Dave said staring at the field of stones and lifeless dirt. Acres of stone piles and handmade headstones appeared to stretch left and right for kilometres.

  “This is where those that did not survive the curtain fall ended up,” Serif said, pointing with his injured hand.

  “How many?”

  “Some said a mi
llion died. The food became scarce. There were plagues and famine. Fighting broke out, and men and women killed each other in the streets for scraps. Some old-timers said that the council was originally formed to create order, but it never held any authority. People were savage to each other. We have since tried our best to become something better, each generation building something more civilized than our grandfathers and grandmothers needed for survival.”

  “I always wondered what happened,” Dave said.

  “This is a graveyard of our sins,” Serif stated. “We can’t forget out history.”

  Dave started walking across the plateau. A well-worn path extended from the street through the graveyard. Some of the shallow graves appeared disturbed and uprooted.

  “Please don’t tell me that these people got up and walked away.” Dave pointed to an empty grave.

  The group laughed nervously. Genie rolled her eyes at him, followed by a shake of her head.

  Serif shook his head too. “No, the zealots take the bodies. They use them to make dust. It is a fungus that grows on bones. They take our ancestors, pulverize the bones, and mix it with the fungus.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “No one ever called the queen sane.”

  Dave picked his way through the graveyard and could see depressions throughout the hard soil. “There are more heavies here than in the city.”

  “Yes. We need to keep our heads up here,” Serif agreed.

  The group shifted into a single file as the tall man picked a path through the graves.

  After an hour of walking, Dave could see a tall blue band looming in the horizon. “What is that?

  “That is the crystal wall,” Serif stated.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Dave said.

  Dave peered at its icy blue depths. The closer they walked, the more translucent the material seemed to become. The buildings of the city reminded him of an uprooted tree, with the crystal wall comprising the root bundle that had been pulled from the earth.