Authors: Edward Teach
Before they were out of sight of the field glasses Romeo could see that the tank was firing rounds into the psychopath horde, scattering them into smaller groups so that the escort could sally forth and engage them. Romeo leapt down into the backseat of the car and checked his machine gun while Cisco nodded and started up the engine. They moved onto the main road and began speeding towards the city.
The Sons had created their barricades and roadblocks to prevent the psychopaths, and many walkers, from escaping the city, and seemed to have given little thought to keeping anyone out. Cisco had seen the makeshift ramp that the Sons had constructed over the main roadblock, using it to set the tank on overwatch against psychopath assault vehicles. Now that the tank was engaging the psychopaths in the city the ramp was empty and was perfect for a high-speed jump over the barricades.
Cisco kept his headlights off and kept his speed constant until the last possible moment, then shifted gears and put the pedal to the floor. The few guards at the barricade were so focusing on killing the walkers who had gathered on the other side that they never noticed the car’s approach. Cisco and Romeo roared as loud as the engine itself as adrenaline coursed through them, and the charger hit the ramp at top speed. The car moved up the ramp and flew out across the barricade, clearing the small gathering of zombies that were on the other side and landing in a shower of sparks a dozen yards away.
The shocks groaned and Cisco cut the wheel back and forth to regain control of the speeding vehicle. Romeo let out another victory shout and moved the grate in the roof of the car so that he could take up a firing position. They drove into the city, directly into the center of the tempest of battle. Within moments they witnessed the madness of a full-scale war raging through out the city. Shock troops from the Sons of Hastur were fighting on foot against the teeming masses of zombies, using riot shields and mobile barricades to create firing lines. The humvees and patrol cars were engaged in a series of blistering firefights with the psychopaths as vehicles from both sides careened through the streets.
Romeo found that he could not help but to roar and shout as he fired his M240 into the enemy. As Cisco haphazardly navigated a twisted route through the chaos Romeo gunned down Sons as the charger sped past them, he drove away psychopaths in their armored vehicles with sustained bursts of fire, and dispatched the few zombies who managed to crawl onto the vehicle during the frequent stops in the wreckage choked roads. A bullet tore through Romeo’s side and he nearly dropped the gun, then more rounds shredded the back tire and soon it was grinding metal and leaving a shower of sparks in the car’s wake.
Romeo turned the gun towards the new threat and exchanged fire with a truck that had pulled in behind them. The psychopath driving looked as if he had forced dental equipment into his own face, his mouth pulled back in a permanent toothed grin. The gunner was wearing an orange prison jumpsuit and spraying shots at the charger with a machine pistol. Thankfully the pistol was terribly inaccurate, despite the fact that it could fire nearly twenty rounds within a single squeeze of the trigger. Romeo fired a controlled burst into the chest of the gunner, and as his body went limp a humvee smashed into the side of the truck. In seconds both vehicles were out of sight as Cisco kept driving.
The world went white for a moment, and then Romeo realized he had fallen down into the back seat, his ears throbbing in pain. The charger had swerved to narrowly avoid being crushed under the weight of a sizeable piece of collapsing highway overpass that had been dislodged by a shot from the heavy tank. Romeo had lost his machine gun, so shook the cobwebs from his mind and snatched up the lever-action rifle.
The tank rolled over the rubble and let off a second shot that exploded near the charger, tearing apart the driver’s side and front of the car. Cisco screamed as shrapnel dug into his leg, and turned the wheel in a vain effort to keep the charger from flipping over. The car turned end over end three times before coming to a stop. Romeo struggled to remain conscious, having been slammed violently against the car’s interior. Cisco unbuckled himself and the two men struggled to help each other out of the wreckage.
The tank rolled towards the upturned car as the two bikers limped away from the wreckage. The Rider in the Pallid Mask stood astride his tank, and pointed at the men, in response the barrel of the tank’s gun ground slowly towards them. Cisco groaned in pain as he pulled Romeo along, then both men fell to the ground. Romeo chambered a round, but could not keep the barrel steady, so Cisco used his free hand to hold it for him. The two men stood before the tank, each one helping the other, and Romeo sighted down the barrel and fired.
The single round impacted upon the pallid mask and knocked it from the man’s face in a spray of blood and splinters. The mask fell to the ground and the man began screaming and tearing at his own face with his gloved hands. He pulled furrows of flesh from his already bloody face and fell backwards off of the tank, which had pulled to a stop. Both men watched in awe for a moment, then regained their wits and took the chance offered to escape. They had nearly reached the city limits on the other side, so kept moving on foot.
They found a patrol car that had its windows shot out, with a single walker feeding on the dead Son that sat in the driver’ seat. They clubbed the walker with the butt of the rifle and moved the body of the dead Son. Much to their relief and surprise the vehicle was still in driving condition, and there was a twelve-gauge shotgun mounted in the central console. They heaved themselves painfully into the vehicle and slipped out of the city without further confrontation, saying a prayer to whatever force seemed to be guiding them and protecting them.
Jesus said, "If two make peace with each other in a single house, they will say to the mountain, 'Move from here!' and it will move. They will face down the walking dead and the mad man, and they shall triumph."
THE HORSEMAN OF DEATH
Jesus said, "Congratulations to those who are alone and chosen, for you will find the kingdom in this world of the dead and damned. For you have come from it, and you will return there again."
Jesus said, "If they say to you, 'Where have you come from?' say to them, 'We have come from the light, from the place where the light came into being by itself, established itself, and appeared in their image.”
They drove through the night, putting as much distance between themselves and the battle raging in the city. Even through the fog of pain Romeo seemed able to sense the path, and Cisco kept them moving. Cisco kept rolling the words from the voice around in his head. Even as the darkness of the world seemed to encroach from every direction the voice yet spoke of the light. He tried to take comfort in that, though the headaches that accompanied the voice were still a trial to overcome.
Romeo had pondered that the words spoke of a place where the light came into being, and it did seem to him that Zombie Jesus was moving towards a specific goal, a place of particular significance. Though what that place might be neither man could imagine, yet both knew they had to be heading somewhere, and so kept moving. The radio played only static, and small talk seemed trite, so they rode on in silence.
Cisco still drove with the headlights off, the full moon giving plenty of light, though he noticed an orange glow behind them. He pushed Romeo awake and both men looked behind them as the light grew near. Neither man was prepared for what approached them, and it took all their inner strength to hold themselves steady when the Rider appeared next to them.
They recognized Turk’s bike as it drew near, the telltale roar of its engine unmistakable. As the bike kept pace with the patrol car the men could see that Turk still sat astride his own motorcycle, though his head was gone. Cisco and Romeo both had seen Turk be decapitated by the other Rider, though they could see from the tattoos on the man’s arms and hands that it was indeed Turk’s body. The most menacing feature of the Rider was that a jet of flame blazed up from the severed neck stump, giving the slightest impression of a face hidden within the flames.
The men and the rider drove in silence for a few moments, both vehicles keeping pace, until the rider started revving his engine. The bike sped up to pull ahead of them, then braked down to fall past them, and repeated the process. After the third time Cisco realized that the Rider was challenging them to race, the men had simply been too shocked by the rider’s fearsome appearance to realize it at first. The two men looked at each other and Romeo shrugged in agreement, so Cisco looked back at the rider and nodded.
In the space of a breath the bike sped forward and Cisco floored the gas pedal. Thankfully they were riding in a highway patrol car, which had been outfitted with a good engine and throttle, so the race was on. It took all of Cisco’s considerable skills behind the wheel to prevent from wrecking the car, as even slight turns were deadly at one hundred and twenty miles per hour. He had somehow sensed that it was of significance that they raced by moonlight, and he kept his headlights off.
They sped down the highway, the motorcycle taking tight turns to pull ahead, then the car overtaking it on the straight-aways and declines as its size added to its land speed. After nearly half an hour of intense speeds Cisco was beginning to tire, the stress of keeping the vehicle pushed to its limits was testing his own. Romeo pointed to a second light that had appeared on the horizon, and as they grew near it looked to be a bonfire burning at the top of a mesa.
Sure enough the rider swerved ahead of them and took a dirt path towards the base of the mesa. The speed of the race had dropped dramatically, and the traction of four tires against two had tipped the contest in Cisco’s favor. To his pleasant surprise the patrol car had been a manual, so he was able to shift gears up and down to maximize his vehicle’s performance, and was able to put a solid forty yards distance between the car and the Rider. In the brilliant moonlight he could see the dirt road that wound up the side of the mesa, and the turned sharply to climb it. The rider spent the next several minutes trying to accelerate enough to slip past the patrol car as they sped up the narrow mesa road. Cisco kept a keen eye on the blazing head of the rider and managed to swerve close enough to the side of the mesa that the rider could not pass without getting crushed between car and wall.
They emerged at the top of the mesa going as fast as they dared, and Cisco could see a large wooden building, designed in the native American longhouse fashion, set at the far edge of the mesa plateau. He yanked the handbrake and cut the steering wheel hard so that the car drifted through the turn, then lifted the brake and hit the gas. The car sped towards the mesa, neck to neck with the motorcycle as both vehicles hit their top speeds. The edge of the mesa was swiftly approaching but neither driver would engage their brakes. At the last second Cisco grinned wickedly at the burning rider and cut the wheel to the right while throwing the handbrake. The patrol car went into a power slide as the motorcycle slammed into the front of the car, sending the rider streaking across the hood and out over the edge of the mesa. The car slid to a stop at the front of the longhouse, bumping up against the support beam ever so slightly as it came to rest in a cloud of dust.
His disciples said to him, "When will the rest for the dead take place, and when will the new world come?"
He said to them, "What you are looking forward to has come, but you don't know it, so focused were you on conquest and expansion as you trod down his blue world."
He said to them, "You have disregarded the living one who is ever in your presence, and have spoken only of the resurrected dead."
Cisco grunted as he stepped out of the car, the wound in his leg painful yet the elation of the race having given him some measure of strength. Romeo was standing on his own, having regained his full faculties, and was staring up at the longhouse. It was illuminated by the bonfire burning nearby, and seemed to be made of an amalgamation of hand-carved wood and scraps from barns or other manufactured buildings. They could see three large arrows embedded in the ceiling, their feather fletching unmistakable.
The men walked up the steps to the door of the long house and stood silently for a moment, looking at each other cautiously. Then they heard the scuff of boots on the steps behind them, and saw the Rider walking up behind them. His head of fire still burned, though the body of Turk was even more badly damaged. The Rider stopped in front of the men, and seemed to incline its flaming head in their direction, as if nodding. Then it walked past a dumbfounded Cisco to open the doors, beckoning for the older man and Romeo to follow.
They entered a single room that took up the entirely of the interior of the building. The walls were covered in the mounted skulls of dozens of animals, not all of them easily identifiable. The room was bare of furnishings other than a tall wooden stool at the center of the room. The man who stood upon it was more fearsome than any of the Riders so far, thought Cisco, as he looked upon him.
The man’s toes hung down and were barely touching the surface of the stool, as the three arrows that had broken through the ceiling had pierced his head. Though blood ran down in rivulets from his wounds to obscure much of his face the man was clearly of Native American descent. He was naked save for a small loincloth, and his skin was painted in horizontal stripes of black and white. Cisco though he looked much like the kachina dolls that he’d seen in the gift shop, and to his surprise the man’s eyes open as his mouth spoke in response.