Indestructible
Talen and Jeremias were surrounded. The ganger brandished the wrench, wishing that he had something that could do more damage.
Plague zombies were everywhere. Zelia would roll her eyes at the name, but she wasn’t here, was she? She wasn’t the one ringed by a mob of swaying, moaning monstrosities in a city overrun by shambling horrors. Everywhere he looked he saw faces distorted by the same disease that had ravaged Nalos, their skin the colour of mouldy cheese and their features twisted by bulging blisters. He had trusted Zelia and she had left him in this nightmare. Jeremias was right. She had betrayed him, and just when he needed her most.
The nearest zombie lurched towards Jeremias and Talen swung the power-wrench, knocking a malfunctioning servo-arm out of the way. The mechadendrite sparked, its gears whirring. Whatever ailment was mutating the adepts was also affecting their cybernetics, foul-smelling goo dripping from every joint and coupling.
‘Why is this happening?’ Talen asked, but the inquisitor countered with a question of his own.
‘Where is Corlak?’
Jeremias was the reason they hadn’t got far. He had to keep stopping, leaning against corroded walls to stay on his feet. Talen had gone to return his coat, but the inquisitor had insisted that he keep it over his head, even though the inquisitor’s clothes were now frayed and his skin raw.
‘I need to protect you,’ he’d wheezed, gripping the hilt of his sword in both hands. Talen wished that the inquisitor had given him the blade. It would be more effective than a tool.
Talen looked around, but there was no sign of the servo-skull. He wondered if the zombies had got hold of Corlak, and the macabre assistant was lying in pieces in some back alley, ripped apart by malfunctioning mechadendrites. If they could destroy something as formidable as a cyber-mastiff, a solitary drone wouldn’t stand a chance.
‘Corlak…’ Talen shouted, jabbing at a groaning serf with a grotesquely distended neck. ‘We could do with a hand here. Or a pincer. Or whatever you have at the end of your arms.’
Something brushed his back. He swivelled around, lashing out with the wrench, knocking a diseased hand away. The plague zombie hissed at him through splintered teeth.
The mob pressed in, spurring Jeremias into action. The inquisitor slashed with his sword, slicing down two… no, three of the ailing attackers. Three more fell, not to the singing blade but to sudden bolts of las-fire. Jeremias had drawn his beamer and was twisting and firing, some shots going wide, while most found their targets. He was magnificent, even in his weakened state, although the strain of the fight soon proved too much. The inquisitor stumbled, his beamer slipping from his hand. It slid across the walkway to be trampled beneath zombie feet, the las-bursts having attracted even more revenants.
‘Give me the sword,’ Talen demanded, but Jeremias shook his head.
‘No. Only an inquisitor may wield Purifier.’
Talen swiped at a zombie with the wrench, the rain stinging his wrist. ‘Well, it’s either that or we get ripped apart. Your choice.’
Jeremias wasn’t listening. He was on his knees, staring into the rain. ‘Need to be strong,’ he muttered, wide-eyed and exhausted. ‘Need to fight the contagion.’
Talen pivoted on his heel, looking for escape routes. He could probably make a break for it, but Jeremias could barely stand, let alone run.
It was useless. The zombies closed in and Talen turned to the inquisitor, ready to wrestle Purifier from his hands. Inquisitor or not, he had to do something.
Or did he? The sudden roar of an engine drowned out the zombie horde and Talen looked up to see a covered skimmer cutting a swathe through their attackers. It screeched to a halt beside them, its door swinging up to reveal Corlak at the controls.
‘Get the master on board!’ the servo-skull ordered and Talen did as he was told. He bundled the inquisitor into the grav-car, yelling at Corlak to go. The servo-skull obliged, gunning the engines before the door had even closed. They shot into the air, a zombie throwing itself onto the bonnet as they climbed into the rain. There was no way of knowing if the creature had been an adept or a serf. All Talen knew was that it was punching the windscreen, desperate to get in.
‘Do not fear,’ Corlak said, as Talen draped the coat that had protected him over Jeremias’s shoulders. ‘That is reinforced armourglass – all but indestructible.’
‘Someone needs to tell him that,’ Talen said, as the zombie continued its single-minded assault. ‘Where did you get this thing anyway?’
‘I commandeered it from a nearby street.’
‘Stole it, you mean.’
‘Its owner was no longer capable of piloting a vehicle.’
‘They’d become one of those things?’
‘The infection is spreading, yes.’
‘But how?’
Outside, the zombie produced a bionic arm that ended in a whirring saw. Sparks sizzled in the rain as the teeth ground into the reinforced glass.
‘Now is not the time for conversation,’ Corlak said.
‘For once I agree with you,’ Talen said, screwing his face up at the sound from the saw. ‘We need to get it off us!’
‘Agreed,’ the servo-skull said, slamming the flyer into a sharp roll. The zombie hung on, as cracks spiderwebbed from the saw’s spinning teeth.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Talen groaned, hanging onto the pilot’s seat.
‘Not on me, you’re not,’ Jeremias snapped.
‘Back with us then?’ Talen said. ‘Any idea how to dislodge a stubborn zombie?’
‘Yes,’ the inquisitor hissed. ‘Corlak, electrify the window.’
‘What?’ Talen exclaimed. ‘We’re in a metal box. Won’t we be electrified too?’
‘Says the boy who can handle shock-sticks. Corlak – do it now!’
The servo-skull stabbed an electro-prod into the window frame and electricity crackled around the armourglass, sweeping over the zombie’s body. It held on, arms rigid, blue sparks dancing around its clenched teeth.
‘It’s persistent,’ Talen said. ‘I’ll give it that.’
As they watched, the pustules on the zombie’s face swelled, its entire body bulging as if it was about to burst – which it did with a sickening squelch, exploding into a seething mass of tiny green creatures. They slapped against the armourglass, little balls of slime with snarling mouths, malevolent eyes and long, pointed horns.
‘What are they?’ Talen gasped.
Jeremias stared at the creatures with a mixture of hatred and fear. ‘Nurglings,’ he snarled as if the name was explanation enough.
The cackling imps hung onto the windscreen, stuck fast by the disgusting slime that covered their equally disgusting bodies. They scratched at the glass, their tiny claws as hard as diamond.
Talen could feel hysterical laughter bubbling up from his stomach. Earlier today, he would have happily told you that zombies weren’t real and now had watched an electrified revenant explode into a swarm of giggling horrors. He was being flown through the air by a cybernetic skull while monsters bayed for his blood on the streets below.
Nothing about this made sense, but there was one thing he was certain of – he wouldn’t be in this mess if Zelia and Mekki hadn’t left him behind.