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Birth of a Lich

For Daniel Bryant and Arthur Hanson, being bitten by a zombie isn't the end. It's only the beginning. Warning: BL Notice: This story is considered complete and will not be expanded once the last chapter uploads. This is one of the many stories I've written in the last ten years and never released. I'm releasing it now as something of an apology for readers of *Mage Me Tidy* and *Deep Sea Party* who haven't seen any updates during the last month due to me being distracted with moving and various other personal issues. Please enjoy. Authors are welcome to use what's here as the foundation for the creation of other ZED Units.

Ashpence · Krieg
Zu wenig Bewertungen
34 Chs

Chapter Twenty One

White rejoined us as we were locking the bathroom door. "Report," she ordered.

"Two lich, stable, but not mobile yet," Doc said. "Grumpy negotiated their safety. We're ready to proceed with evacuation of the immunes."

"Two problems with that," White replied. "Problem one, the roof access is outside. We'll have to find an alternate evac route and clear it. If all else fails, we'll bring in some more support and clear the road, then bring the civilians out into the open once the choppers are close. Problem two, D-Nav is reporting continued movement within the building. The ape we were tracking wasn't one of the dead by the door. Doc, it's up to you and me."

I opened my mouth to volunteer, but White shot me a hard look, stopping me in my tracks. "Shooting a zombie at a distance is a lot different than fighting one in close quarters. You're not ready for that yet. Doc has more experience. He'll be coming with me. You stay here and try to get these people in shape to run. We'll have one shot at a clean evac. I don't want it fucked up. How copy?"

"Solid copy," I replied, remembering how Sergeant James had responded to the same question. White smiled at me in approval.

"You'll get your chance soon enough. I have a feeling you're going to be an asset to this team. Don't prove me wrong by trying to be a hero. Heroes die young and their funerals are short. I want these people's kids to build monuments to us, but you have to rack up a lot of points for that kind of memorial. Understand?"

"In other words, we were all going to die at some point?" I asked with a faltering smile.

White's expression was firm and focused as she replied, "Damned straight. Make every minute count and don't cut it short. We'll be back in twenty minutes. Don't open the door unless you hear my voice and have these people ready to move. We're counting on you."

Her words felt like a death flag being raised. I really wanted to go with them, but I didn't know what difference I'd make. They had the same zombie invisibility I enjoyed and they had experience I didn't. Hunting down one zombie ape shouldn't be a problem for them. Of course, according to every action movie I'd ever watched, it meant their guard would be lowered out of arrogance and they'd die horribly. It was how these things worked.

I felt uneasy the moment they left the safety of the cellar. I distracted myself by collecting bottles of water from the supply in the women's bathroom and upending them on the heads of those people in the main room who weren't already sitting up.

Have I mentioned I'm an asshole?

Within five minutes, I had a crowd of pissed-off, half-drowned, hung over survivors on my hands. All of them either wanted answers or my head on a platter. None of them would shut up long enough for me to speak and I'd never learned the trick of finger whistling.

I was tempted to flip the safety off my rifle and shoot a couple of rounds at the ceiling, but knowing my luck they'd ricochet and hit someone. I settled for waiting them out, keeping my expression implacable until one of the men started screaming so close to my face I could feel his spittle hitting me.

I headbutted him with my helmet. He fell down. Everyone finally shut the hell up.

"If you're done bitching, here's what's going to happen," I said, trying to act like I had authority on the matter. "My people are clearing a route out of here. Choppers are on their way. You need to get off your asses, clean yourselves up, and upchuck whatever booze is left in your stomachs. Stick a finger down your throat and guzzle water if that's what you have to do, but be ready to move in ten minutes. That door is going to open up once and only once. Everyone is going to evacuate together. This is not up for discussion. No one is getting the choice to stay behind. So get your shit together and get ready to leave. Don't try to take anything with you. There won't be room on the chopper for luggage and everything you need will be provided on the other side."

A woman sitting on the ground looked up at me and suddenly asked, "Why are your eyes weird?" She looked to be my age and still had remnants of mascara on her eyes despite having been hiding underground so long. I assumed she'd been renewing it as a way to exert what little control she had on her situation.

"I'm half-zombie," I replied dryly, seeing no reason to lie. Gossip was likely spreading about the lich in the bathroom. "I already died and came back. Now I fight other zombies for the sake of protecting mankind."

The woman snorted. "That sounds like a bad comic book. What do they call you? The Z-Man?"

I smirked. "They call me Grumpy. Now get ready to go. My team should be back soon. We need to get ready to run. We won't be able to secure the evac route for long."

"Where will they take us?" an older, more withered man asked. "Is there anywhere left to go?"

"The West Coast is still standing," I replied. "But they'll probably evac you straight to a medical ship. You'll need to have blood tests done to confirm if you've been infected and they'll want to debrief you. The staff there will be the best ones to give you the latest information."

That immediately triggered an outcry of, "What do you mean, 'confirm if we're infected'?"

I glared at the crowd, already sick of their lack of focus. "What is this? Twenty questions? If you're not infected, it'll be a fucking miracle. Now, did you or did you not hear me say my team would be here any minute? I swear to God I'm going to shoot the last person on their feet. Now move your asses! This isn't a damned drill. On your feet. Position yourselves by the door. Go!"

"I see why they call you Grumpy," someone muttered as they all flocked to the stairwell. I tasked the sober ones with collecting any strays, then headed up the stairwell myself to let my comms reconnect.

"Grumpy to D-Nav. We're almost ready down here. How are things looking outside? Over." I had to repeat the question twice to get a response.

"D-Nav to Grumpy. Standby. Over."

"White to Grumpy. The ape is down, but we're gathering a crowd outside the door. We've called in support to clear the road. Standby. Over."

I wanted to sigh in relief when I heard her voice. She was fine. The team was fine. I glanced over the people in the stairwell with me, happy to see they were finally waking up to the situation. Everything was going to work out.

"We gained some attention," I told them. "Extra people are being called in to clear the area. None of you have to worry. We'll get you out of here safely."

And we did. Once it was all hands on deck, it was easy to secure the building's interior and exterior. The civilians gawped at the number of soldiers on hoverbikes buzzing around the area as I led them out into the open where a chopper was already waiting at a nearby intersection. It became a stampede to see who could get there first, but it didn't matter. The chopper was a large one with room for everyone, even the girl in the wheelchair.

I tried not to meet anyone's gazes as they tearfully called out with gratitude once they were on board. It should have felt good to be thanked, yet all I could think about was how this was only a stop-gap measure. It wasn't a victory. We hadn't actually stopped any of the zombies. We'd only temporarily incapacitated them and stolen their food supply.

After the chopper lifted off, I told White I was going back in to check on the lich. She gave me the go-ahead with quiet solemnity, sounding as if she felt the same way I did and she understood my need for a moment alone.

Thirty minutes. From the moment we received the call to reroute until the moment the chopper took off, only thirty minutes had passed. It was probably the most important half-hour in those civilians' lives, yet it was nothing at all to me. They were merely a side-show attraction in the bigger carnival I was attending.

What did that say about the type of man I was becoming? I didn't know. It was another question I didn't ask out of fear of learning the answer.