nodded, but said nothing. There was nothing to say. I mean, what was I supposed to say to someone handing out confessions to clear his conscience? I was not prepared to bless him like a priest in a confessional and send him on his merry way. He made his decisions and now he had to live with them. At first he said that Calvin was a loose cannon, and then he said he had no idea that Calvin would go around shooting people in my group. I mean seriously, how daft is that? So he led a mentally unstable man to a group of survivors on a rooftop thinking they would share a soda together or something? In a way I blamed him, though I knew it wasn’t really his fault that Alex got shot.
“My friend will be alright.” I said adamantly.
“Are we cool?” Fred asked.
We walked in silence as I ignored him.
“You’re not going to kill me or throw me to the dead?” He asked again.
“No.” I said bluntly.
Though I did not care much for him, I was not the man Calvin was and would spare Fred’s life. One never knew when you might actually need a second pair of hands.
“But if he dies,” I said coldly, “I’m blaming you.”
I knew it was not the right thing to say – to blame Fred, but I wanted to fuel his guilt and motivate him to succeed in finding the blood. I noticed that he nodded, but he did not say anything about it as we continued down the hallway. The hallway would have been completely dark if it wasn’t for the moonlight that entered through a window at the end of the hallway.
We came to the last door on the left which was marked Restricted Entry: Cold Storage Blood. The door was locked, but with a mighty jerk I opened it, breaking the lock. Cold steam seeped out like you would see in the movies and twirled around our feet as we walked.
“We’re looking for O positive.” I said and we went inside the cold storage room.
The storage room was filled with, heck I don’t know what you call them but they looked like display units turned into refrigerators – anyway, we went through all of them and then Fred announced that he found an IV drip bag of O positive blood.
“Found it.” Fred said.
I turned around and as I walked over to him a cracking sound rolled through the sky outside. I paused and listened but I could not identify the sound.
“Was that thunder?” Fred asked.
There was another cracking sound outside followed by a slight sonic boom. It was definitely not thunder.
“I don’t think so.” I said, “It’s too high pitched to be thunder.”
“Then what is it?” Fred asked.
“For all we know it could be the gates of hell opening.” I said.
We heard the sound again, followed by a roar and the sound of crashing water. I motioned for Fred to follow me and we left the cold storage room. When we got closer to the window, the noise sounded more like moaning.
Fred and I both stared out at the street, but could not see the street. It was completely flooded by hundreds – if not thousands of the undead. All of them simply stood there swaying back and forth as if hypnotized while they moaned. Usually they would overrun buildings if they smelled human flesh, but not this time. They just stood there with their rotting faces staring up at Fred and me at the window.
The cracking sound boomed through the air again and made us both look to the left. A roar confirmed that we were looking in the right direction. I saw a man without flesh on his face sitting on the back of a lion flipping my whip through the air.
“Slayer!” The man called out, “We need to talk!”
“Is that… Derrick?” Fred asked confused.
“No. Not anymore” I said, “It’s Clairvius.”
“Who?” Fred asked confused.
“I’m not sure.” I said, “But this looks like trouble.”
“Is the lion a zombie?” Fred asked.
“No.” I said and glanced at the sea of motionless corpses, “It has no bite marks. I think it just died. I think he is controlling it.”
“Why aren’t the zombies attacking us?” Fred asked.
“I think he is controlling them in some way.” I said and then turned to him, “Get the blood back to Alex, barricade the door and do not come out – no matter what happens.”
“What about you?” Fred asked.
“I’m going to hear what he wants.” I said.
Fred nodded and reluctantly ran back to the cafeteria. I glanced out the window at Clairvius sitting on the back of the lion. He looked up at me with his skinless face grinning at me like a demented joker. I wish I had more information about Clairvius and how I could defeat him. He was clearly an ancient evil with powers beyond comparison – I mean; he was controlling a sea of corpses for crying out loud. I had to be extremely cautious.
“Are you coming out or are we coming in?” Clairvius called out.
14
I weighed my options against each other. My friends and family stood no chance against the undead should they overrun the hospital. Alex was in no state to be moved and mom was not really one of the fastest runners on earth. It would be better if I just went outside and listened to what he wanted.
“Are you coming out or are we coming in?” Clairvius called out, “I won’t ask you again.”
“I’m coming out!” I called out.
I should probably take some sort of weapon with me, I thought to myself. Clairvius might have been a lion-riding ancient evil that controlled the dead around him, but what if that control was lost? What then? Would I be able to fight off thousands of the undead, at night no less? I don’t mean to boast, but even though I was one heck of a fighter – though not always – I could not take on all of them outside the hospital. It would be suicide.
My eyes searched the corridor for anything that could be used as a weapon and then I spotted a familiar sight: a fire hatchet locked in a glass casing. It immediately brought back memories of the first time I ever killed zombies (in the school, remember?)… Though it was only a few days ago, it felt like a lifetime ago. I guess time goes by slower than it feels when you are fighting to stay alive.
I broke the glass casing with my elbow and took a hold of the hatchet. Its blade glistened as the moonlight touched it. It was a bit smaller and lighter than an axe, but it would have to do.
With hatchet in hand, I cleared the barricade in front of the main entrance doors as I kept a close eye on the lingering corpses outside. They stood about six feet away from the door, but never stormed the door as I opened it. The utter motionlessness that came from the hordes of zombies was unsettling. They watched as I closed the door and then they cleared a pathway when I approached them. They cleared a pathway right up to Clairvius and the lion. I slowly walked down the pathway and scrutinized the zombie faces around me. Some had missing eyes, missing lips and some had complete missing faces and only exposed skull. Most of them murmured a whine or groan which washed over the groan of the next one to create a constant noise of the undead.
When I got closer to the lion, he motioned for me to stop and then he dismounted from the dead lion.
“That is close enough.” Clairvius said.
He patted the dead lion and approached me while the lion sat down and licked its front paw. I have to admit, I felt a bit nervous at that time, but decided to keep my cool demeanour.
“Purple eyes…” Clairvius gloated, “It’s so nice to see your face again.”
I stared at the exposed teeth and muscle that covered Clairvius’s face and cringed a bit.
“I wish I could say the same.” I said smug.
“Yeah.” Clairvius said, “This vessel is a bit battered, but he put up quite a fight – he fought off a zombie baby, survived a fall from a first floor and fought off three zombies before dying. He was the perfect host for me.”
“What is it that you want?” I asked a bit annoyed.
“That’s no way to speak to an old friend.” Clairvius said, “We used to be friends, remember? We played video games.”
“No,” I said shaking my head, “That was
Richard. You killed him and stole his memories.”
“I stole his memories, yes.” Clairvius said, “Which made me experience the bond the two of you had. It had real potential. You could have been lifelong buddies… or at least that’s what Richard thought. Did he tell you that? He wanted to become your best friend, I know because I experienced his thoughts.”
I knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get into my mind and play games on me. It would not work. I would simply shut him out.
“You’re trying to mess with my head.” I said, “It won’t work.”
“Awww…” Clairvius said empathetically, “Now why would you say such a horrible thing about your dear old friend? You should know me better than that. Why would you think I would want to mess with your mind?”
“I don’t know.” I said, “You tell me.”
“I like you.” Clairvius said, “You’re not like the other slayers. You have spunk. I like spunk; it makes you different from the crowd. If you did not have it, you would have been part of this throng of zombies around me long ago.”
He talked a lot of nonsense. I didn’t like it one bit. What was he playing at?
“I doubt it.” I said, “I’ve survived this long, I will see this zombie apocalypse through to the end.”
“That’s the spirit!” Clairvius exclaimed and a front tooth fell out, “I knew from the second I saw you that you were different. It is written all over your face. The others all smell like fresh meat, but you give off a different odour – an odour which I would love to experience.”
“Sounds to me like you have some homosexual tendencies.” I said arrogantly, “Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against gay guys. In fact, one of my best friends is gay.”
Two could play the mind game.
“I do not have any sexual desires for you whatsoever.” Clairvius said, “I just would like to be inside your body and completely possess you.”
I have to admit, that comment creeped me out a bit, but it gave me something to work with… to find out more about the name Clairvius.
“Are you a demon?” I asked, “Are you possessing the bodies of the dead?”
Clairvius laughed and then said, “A demon? Is that what you think of me? No, my dear boy. I am not a demon.”
“What are you then?” I asked.
Clairvius stepped closer and I could taste his breath as he spoke.
“I am too old for you to fathom.” Clairvius said, “It would exhaust every cell in your brain to comprehend what I am.”
“According to the encyclopaedia Clairvius was born in 1822.” I said and contorted my face with smug.
“Ah.” Clairvius exclaimed and stepped back, “You got me. I am a man born in 1822.”
He stepped closer, leaned in and stared at me with his bloody eyes that had no eyelids.
“Clairvius is just a man who I happened to possess.” He said, “I liked the name and it stuck. You can do your little internet searches and you will find nothing about the real me, and do you know why that is? I am older than human knowledge.”
“You sound full of yourself.” I said.
“I don’t have to be.” Clairvius said, “You can never defeat me. None of the previous slayers could. You can kill me over and over, but I will just return in another body – a dead one of course. I prefer the smell of a rotting corpse.”
I got a whiff of his odour and cringed.
“Apparently so.” I said and tried not to gag.
“You’re really cocky.” Clairvius said amused, “I like that. You like taking risks. None of the other slayers ever dared to even talk to me, nevermind taunt me. I could easily kill you if I wanted. I could simply give the word and these zombies around us would tear you to bits.”
“So why don’t you?” I asked arrogantly.
He stepped back as if pondering and then said, “You make things interesting. While others are struggling to stay alive in a battle of the fittest, you save the useless. It’s noble, I might be dead, but I know nobleness when I see it. And without