Empire

37 Twenty Questions

She awoke in Hell.

The room was so red, so deep red, so overpoweringly monochromatic that it struck Palmer's senses like a wave, all sight sound and feeling. Then the prickling of her flesh gave way to an oppressive heat. Sweat stung the corners of her eyes; she blinked through the pain and tried to discern shape or depth in the room.

The heat faded. So did the light, and it was soon replaced by a soft glow from behind her. She tried to turn and couldn't. She was in a chair, and her arms and legs were bound.

"I told them they might taste you later, if they behaved." A voice at her back said; it was malicious, but youthful. "I'm not entirely disappointed — they couldn't find Lily, but they did fetch one of the maggots that conspired to take her from me."

The speaker stepped around the chair and pulled another from the shadows for himself. He turned it backwards and straddled the seat, resting his chin on the back of the chair. "What's your name?"

"Reverend Palmer. What's yours?" She felt swelling in her mouth, where one of the rotters had cuffed her. The last thing she could remember was being thrown in the back of a truck. If they were Addison's "children" then this was Addison's house. But the man before her wasn't Addison…

"My name? Don't have one," he replied with a glib smile. "Like the dark man. He has no name, does he?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Where am I?"

"You helped the dark man take Lily, isn't that right? Or is it the other way around? Did you people summon him here?"

She had no idea who this guy was, what he was talking about, nor his relation to Doctor Addison — but he looked like he was on edge. Scared, for himself or someone else. This "Lily" maybe. If she asked the right questions, she might be able to get some answers and even get these ropes loosened. "Where's Addison? Isn't this his house?"

His face paled. "No more questions from you. I ask the questions!" He slammed his fist against his chair.

"I'm just trying to understand why I'm tied up," she said firmly, "and why I'm in this house. You sound like you need someone's help. Maybe we can start over-"

"I'm not untying you." He snapped. "Your mouth still works. I suggest you use it to tell me what I want to know, rather than trying to fuck with my head."

"I don't want to make you tense." Palmer lowered her head. "Ask away. If I know anything, I'll tell you."

"Where's Lily?"

"I don't know who Lily is."

The man rapped his knuckles on the back of his chair, humming discordantly. "What does she look like?" Palmer asked, then, "is she one of the rotters-"

"She's NOT a rotter. And you KNOW it!!" He stood and cast the chair aside, leaning into the reverend's face. "If you think the dark man can protect you, you're wrong. I will tap into forces that…" Stepping back, he smiled again. It was worse than the first time. "You say you're a reverend?"

"Yes I am."

"So you must be praying with all your heart right now for God to come down from the clouds and save you. Are you?"

"Should I be?" She retorted. Her boldness surprised him, but he seemed to enjoy it. His posture changed and he began to pace around her. "I don't pray to the Old Ones. They don't want lowly supplicants. Your god is a petulant child, so insecure…my tribute to the Old Ones is to realize my own greatness. You rummage through this ghost town, praying for enough to get you — little, pathetic you — through the next day. I look out there and see an empire for the taking.

"Men can be the new gods, you know, we can take what is ours — we only need the will to do it! But no, not you. You can't. You'd rather die on your knees and awaken a zombie. I'll be your new god.

"I think Addison knew that, in the back of his mind, but he was afraid. He wanted to give us as offerings to the Old Ones."

Palmer studied the man's face as he spoke. So he was one of the children the doctor had adopted? What had really gone on in this house?

"Addison," the man continued, "was too frightened to accept that what the Old Ones really want is for us to take for ourselves! The groveling supplicants with their pitiful offerings will become the walking dead! As they should! As YOU should!

"But not Lily."

The man opened a folding straight razor in his palm. "My name is Baron."

Palmer strained against the ropes. "I don't know who Lily is, I don't know where she is!"

"Then you're no good to me."

"That's it then? You were so convinced that I had the answers you needed, and now you're just going to — to-"

"Cut your throat? Mm-hmm." The razor danced in the light before her eyes. "I'll deal with the dark man himself if I have to. I'm not afraid."

"Yes you are." Palmer spat. Baron held the blade a hair's breadth from her eyeball. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold her gaze steady. She thought she could feel the cold steel against her eyelashes. Her bladder failed her, and Baron laughed.

"I think I'd like to show you something, Reverend…"

Voorhees took Lily to the window at the end of the fourth-floor corridor. They watched the remaining undead shuffle about.

"Her name's Lily. Lily, this is Jenna, and Mark, and Cheryl." Voorhees gestured to the people behind them. Lily didn't take her eyes away from the plaza. "Where is he?" She asked.

"The…man you were with…he told me to take you. I didn't see what happened after that."

"They got him." She breathed. "How can that even be?" She stared hard at the glass, at the tears forming in her reflection's eyes.

Jenna touched the girl's shoulder. "Where are you from?"

"I won't go back."

"You don't have to. I promise." The girl turned and Jenna offered her a warm smile, something she hadn't thought herself capable of. "We won't make you go back."

"Daddy Addison's house."

"In the swamp??" Voorhees choked. Mark Duncan nodded grimly at Lily. "Who else is there? Addison?"

"No. Baron killed him. Baron killed my mom and dad. He's all alone in that ugly house."

"Who's Baron?" Kneeling, Duncan said softly, "He never has to know that you told us."

"He's my brother. He killed all the rest of them. He made them into rotters and now they do whatever he says."

She'd been around the same undead that had attacked the shelter…? Voorhees tugged at the sleeves of her dress. "Have you been bitten?"

"Sometimes." She jerked her arms away. "Wait, what?" Voorhees exclaimed. "You mean you've been bitten before — and you're not sick?"

"They aren't like the other rotters. They didn't get bit either. The swamp made them come back."

"All of them?" Duncan felt a twinge of hope — maybe he wasn't infected after all — but the girl's impression of how things worked was probably skewed. Half of what she was saying might not be true at all. "Even the one who wore the skull on his head?"

Lily nodded. "The swamp makes everything come back. Bugs and frogs and birds. Just magic I guess." She held up her fist, showing them each the scar of a bite below her thumb. "It's not like the city." Baron had been truthful about that, at least.

"Okay, I need to think about this." Voorhees slouched down on the floor and rubbed his temples.

"What's there to think about?" Duncan shrugged. "Everything we've been arguing about makes sense now."

"Lily," Jenna said, "I'm so sorry about what happened to your friend out there. But you'll be safe with us. We're going far away from here."

"He can't be dead!" Lily cried. "He's an angel!"

Jenna looked questioningly at Voorhees. The cop wouldn't even lift his head.

Out on the street, Death's body was a crumbled ruin. Gene dragged his shovel through the chalky remains. Neither horse nor rider had been able to fight him off, as if he'd crippled both when he ambushed them.

But the girl was gone. The girl was meat and this wasn't. Gene took a mound of the pale quasi-flesh in his hand and studied it. Then he packed it into his mouth.

It tasted like nothing. It fell apart between his gnashing teeth, and he tilted his head back to force the dry mass down his throat.

Then every muscle in Gene's body seized, and black blood spurted from his eyes and nose and he fell stiffly on his back. A paralyzing rigor had taken hold of him. He stared blankly skyward, unable to move even his eyes.

Beside him, a disembodied finger curled and rolled onto its back.