Chapter 13

His arm moved, sweeping across the floor slowly. The thin layer of dust stirred around him, clouding the air. His forehead slumped down and when he inhaled the dust clogged his nose. Where am I? His eyes struggled open and focus. A bright red-orange glow bloomed in front of him, standing out from the dull brown and black hues that filled his vision. What is that? Exhaustion pulled at him, shackling him to the ground. Aiden wondered if he had ever felt so tired before. It was as if something had sucked all the energy from his bones, leaving him empty and hollow. His eyes dropped shut again. Wake up Aiden, wake up! Light cracked through the darkness, responding to his commands. That’s right, it’s time. Wake up and face reality. A twinge of fear seized him and he shifted once more, driven by the urgent need to break free of his bonds. He could not let fear overtake him again.

As he worked, his muscles began to respond, shaking off the intense lethargy that had pinned him down. Good, now the other one. He told himself, watching through blurry vision as his legs bent beneath him, his knees taking on full support of his body. His arms shook, betraying their weakness. Soon he rocked back onto his heels and put forth the effort to try and make out the objects around him. The biggest problem came n from the blinding orange light in front of him. It dominated his sight and forced him to turn away.

The familiar stiffened canvas of his pack seemed to shimmer into view and he grabbed at it. His hands slid along the straps, slow to actually grasp the cloth. He wound the strap around each hand and pulled it into his possession. The first thing he touched were the gloves, still tied tight around the mask. He scooped these items out and worked them loose. The gloves slid smoothly onto his hands, the leather soft on his palms. He breathed deeply, trying to keep his eyes open as he shod the other one. Somewhere, in the depth of his mind, he noticed that there was a distinct lack of ravaged skin on his extremities but that was a whisper compared to the overall task of trying to keep conscious.

*Creak* The sound of old wood straining split through the air. The mask dropped to the ground and he spun on his heels. His body warmed, eager to face whatever enemy presented. His head pounding against the confines of his skull, he strained to see past the inferno to where the sound had originated. *Creak!* the wood groaned louder. *Creak, creak, creak..* the sound dwindled away into silence and someone moved directly in front of the fire that kept him blinded. His eyes began to adjust, seeing the colors more distinctly as fuzzy objects.

The walls were long logs, bound together by some sort of mortar. The rest of the brown came from the worn planks beneath his feet. His head lolled back and he squinted up at the figure. So this was it then. Someone had found me and brought me back here to kill me. But what was he waiting for? I should be dead by now. Or am I already? The possibility made his pulse race and in turn intensified the headache. He crumpled onto himself, stunned into silence by the sudden pain.

“Easy now.” The rasp of an old man’s voice echoed around him but he could think little past the agony. He barely struggled when hands enclosed his arms and pulled him mostly upright. The sharp screech of a wooden chair sliding across the ground pierced his ears and he grunted miserably. “Here we go, easy.” The man said, mostly to himself. For Aiden there was no relief in those words. He sagged onto the table, only partially sitting.

The man left, disappearing beyond Aiden’s hearing range. When he returned, the cool feel of water being applied to the back of his neck helped to ease the pain. Another rag went to his forehead and with each passing moment, the headache retreated into the depth of his skull.

“That’s better. How are your eyes?”

How could he know? Aiden’s eyes continued to cloud, becoming clear for a moment and then fogging again. How? “Yeah, a little better... than before.”

“Very good, and your head?”

Again, how did he know this stuff? He let his head rise slowly and took a assessment of the man. “Who are you?”

The man’s grey and black beard moved as he chuckled. “The real question is, who are you?” He may have been grinning but Aiden felt no amusement from the refusal.

“Nobody.”

“Oh? You seem to be someone. You are after all sitting in my cottage.”

Aiden sat back in the chair, comforted by the fact that energy began to seep back into him. It still left him with the problem of the old man’s intentions. Was he luring Aiden, tempting him into revealing what he was? Grim determination steeled within. He would not be so foolish as to give the game away. Infected or not, the will to live was a hard thing to crush.

“Well names aren’t as important as what you were doing out there so early in the morning.” The man alluded.

What was he doing out there? Aiden shuddered at the memory. Turning into a goddamn fiend, old man. If I were you I would have taken a hatchet to my head and ended the threat there. His lip curled into a sneer. Whatever compassion had stayed the man’s hand, it would do him no good when the hunger struck again.

“Well I could take that as a response.” The old man chuckled again, his hands clasping on the table in front of him.

What? Take what as a response? Aiden asked himself before realizing that he must have meant the nasty little smile he had given. But that would mean his mask… Aiden whipped around in the chair, his eyes roving over his pack until he saw it, the black leather sticking out from behind the canvas. Cold dread crept up his spine and before Aiden turned back again he reached up to his cheek.

“Healed nicely, didn’t it?” The old man asked and Aiden’s lips moved soundlessly as he repeated what the man said.

“Take a look.” A flat piece of metal slid across the table to him and Aiden inspected the wound.

The skin had not healed completely, leaving only three lines of red, no more than a needle’s tip wide on his face. The hole where only membrane had remained had filled in, but how?

“Why did you bring me here?” Aiden asked, licking his lips nervously. His hands twitched and he wanted nothing more than to rip the gloves off and see for himself if they too had healed.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The old man was starting to irritate him. Had he no straight answers to give? Not like you’ve been very talkative either, buddy. “Most people wouldn’t help a total stranger.” Aiden felt tense and his feet shifted to allow him to escape from the chair at a moment’s notice.

“I suppose I’m not like most people then, I help when I hear someone in pain.”

Pain? Aiden remember the pain well. Or was he talking about the woman? By the gods did he see her? Was I.. was I.. Even now he couldn’t finish the thought.

“How did you find me then?”

At this the old man gave a hearty chuckle, his arms crossing. “As if I couldn’t follow your screaming.” Aiden’s face must have betrayed his shock. He didn’t realize he had been screaming. “Whatever it was that you were going through, I knew you needed help.” The man’s perpetually jovial face sobered. “You’re probably scared right about now, aren’t you lad? It’s okay, I would be too.”

Aiden’s heart hammered in his chest. He shifted his eyes to the exit. Whatever this man was leading up to, he didn’t want to hear any part of it.

“There are dark things in this world, but some of us are willing to help defeat those things. What I’m saying is I think I can help you.”

That was the last straw. Aiden shoved the chair out from behind him, grabbed his pack and made for the doorway, muttering something about needing to get back to town. He had almost made it when the old man stopped him with a single sentence.

“It will happen again.”

Light crept in through the cracks and struck Aiden’s face. Freedom was only a foot away now, but how long would that freedom last? How long could he run before the hunger came again, the next time making him kill for the sustenance that he needed. Would it really be so bad to hear the old man out? Aiden turned from the door and looked back at him.

“And again and again until you learn to control it.”

His jaw worked and somehow he managed to ask, “Control what?”

The old man uncrossed his arms and turned the chair toward the door. “What happened to that woman out there?”

It was the question he had been hoping to avoid by fleeing as fast as his legs could carry him. “What woman?” He desperately denied.

“The one I found you lying next to with your face and hands bloodied. I thought you were hurt at first, but it wasn’t your blood was it?”

“I didn’t kill her.” Aiden said quickly, his head seeming so heavy suddenly. He touched his forehead to the smooth wooden panel in front of him.

“That’s one question answered. How did she die then?”

Aiden shrugged, shame at admitting his cowardice making it difficult to say. “She was murdered.”

The old man seemed interested now. He straightened in his chair. “Did you see who did it?”

Aiden nodded. “Her husband I think, I was… nearby, in the bushes.”

“And you didn’t help her.”

“Most people wouldn’t help a total stranger.” Aiden repeated his earlier observation, his voice tightening. “And I am definitely not like you.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Aiden turned for the latch again, but his finger hovered. He had to know. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

The old man took this in for a moment before breaking out into a barking laugh. “Kill you? Why would I kill you?”

“You said so yourself, my face and hands…”

“Yes, your hands. That is why I didn’t kill you.” The old man stared at him intently. “I watched your hands, lad. I saw the skin from your wrist extend and envelope the rest of your hand. It was like nothing I had ever seen before.”

His hand twitched again, the evidence underneath leather gloves begging to be seen. “What’s your point?”

“Do you know how you did that? How that gash on your face healed up within minutes? You seemed to be too far gone to realize what was happening but… Has it happened before?”

Aiden shook his head. “No, never before.” He couldn’t stand it. The leather cinch around his wrist released the glove and he slid it off, staring at the re-growth. It was nothing short of miraculous. His fingers curled and none of the bone could be seen.

“How—,” he started to ask, looking back at the old man.

“Take a seat, lad.”

Before he realized what he was doing, his feet shuffled toward the chair. He couldn’t take his gaze from his hand, marveling as the light from the fireplace gave him a better view.

“There are terrible things at work in our world and I don’t just mean the soulless corpses that no doubt infected you.” The old man warmed up, seeming to have the entire speech memorized. “Isn’t it strange that no records hold any accounts of this plague having struck before?”

“It’s never happened before.” Aiden responded.

The old man shook his head. “No lad, it has. Hundreds of years ago, this very same disease rapidly infected our race. People died by the thousands and entire continents were wiped clean. It was not just man who suffered. All forms of life were prey for the undead to hunt and entire ecosystems were destroyed.”

“How do you know that?”

“What I am about to tell you was passed down to me by my father’s father, all the way back to the beginning. This sort of knowledge was common all the way up to a short while ago when the Church decided to ban such tales. Around such time the books keeping account of that part of history was also lost to us and then it only remained to be delivered to the next generation by word of mouth in secrecy.”

“Sounds like a great conspiracy.” Aiden said sarcastically, having trouble believing what the old man said. For all he knew, the man’s mind had degenerated into fantasies through the years. “And is there a council of you keepers-of-forbidden-knowledge too?”

The old man began to sense the sarcasm and his arms crossed.

“Do you meet by moonlight in a copse of trees with the animals of the world, plotting out your next move against society?” Aiden teased dryly.

“You don’t believe me.” The old man said.

Aiden shook his head, standing again. “Sorry, but I can’t. What you’re saying is ridiculous. The Church would destroy pieces of history and let me guess, you don’t even know why they would do such a thing right?”

The old man looked away and Aiden had his answer.

“Look I’m not ungrateful, thanks for dragging my sorry corpse out of that place, but I’m needed elsewhere.”

“There are others like you.” Once again, the old man’s words stopped him in his tracks. “Not many, according to the lore. But enough to combat the undead that plague our world.”

“Like me.” Aiden repeated bitterly. “A fool, who can’t even feed his family?”

The old man’s head shook, sending his shaggy locks swishing around his face. “No, a man who’s immune system is stronger beyond that of normal people. Someone who can resist the disease-- if he shuts up long enough to learn how to keep it at bay.”

Aiden’s lips pressed together and he cursed silently. Damn if he doesn’t know exactly what to say to keep me here. Damn if I don’t have the courage to just leave.

“Just how do you figure I fit that description? You don’t know anything about me.”

The old man snorted derisively. “I know you’ve succumbed to the hunger and managed to fight your way back to sanity. And that I can follow the trail of animals that you ravaged and left behind.

Aiden’s eyes closed, the memories still fresh.

“Did you eat that woman, lad?”

“I…” Aiden choked on the admission.

“I saw her blood on you, did you consume human flesh?”

His shoulders fell and he kept his face in shadow. “Yes.” He whispered.

“What was that?”

Anger and sadness clawed for dominance. “Yes!” He yelled, returning to the table and leaning close with both his hands on the back of the old man’s chair. Let him see. Let him know what it was he let live last night. “Yes I did, and I enjoyed it.” He snarled, the glimmer of uncertainty on the man’s face igniting his temper. “Her blood was smooth and rich and goddamn sweet.” He could have been talking about a fine wine at that moment. Heat flushed his face, making his palms sweat and his cheek slick. “She tasted good, like cinnamon spiced rolls. Her husband made it so easy…” He drew in a ragged breath. “So damn easy to do it. I didn’t have to…” Aiden coughed then, his emotion dampening the fires of his anger and putting only sorrow in its place. Knowing what he did and describing it out loud brought forth the depth of his anguish. He panted, his hand dropping low and it was then he noticed that the wet on his cheeks wasn’t sweat, it was tears.

It was a long while before the old man moved and he did so slowly as if handling a wounded animal. The man’s hand reached up, refusing to move even as Aiden’s face jerked in the direction of where it rested on his arm. “Easy now, lad. Easy.” He spoke in a low, soothing tone. “The worst is almost over.”

Aiden sucked air in through his clogged nose and shook his head in denial.

“Shh…It is. You’ve done well. You’re stronger than I thought and you’ve been through much. I’m here to help you now, so you’re not alone anymore.”

That cracked his resolve. Aiden sank back into his chair, his legs sprawled haphazardly. He didn’t bother rubbing the drying tears away and couldn’t find the strength to look up.

“There are three things that can happen to someone when they become infected.”

Aiden listened numbly.

“One, the person dies but though their soul has departed, part of their brain still functions. The only thing those seek is living flesh. It is that scrap of knowledge that flesh can stop the disease which keeps them going. But it is not enough, they have no soul and cannot live again. Thus they rove attacking everything on sight.”

The old man paused a moment to let the thought sink in.

“The second kind is more dangerous. These are the ones who ride out the disease, only to succumb to the mindless hunger that drives the others. The difference is that these retain their soul, though it becomes corrupted by the continual need for nourishment while their bodies rot. No amount of flesh can be consumed to stave off the rot for these two unfortunate types of victims. The mind becomes perverted as well, developing the ability to control with their will the animated corpses around them as well as being able to communicate.”

The chair creaked as the old man leaned forward, his grey eyes betraying his excitement. “The last are those who are gifted with a strong enough body AND mind to withstand the effects of the disease. Some of these have been known to exhibit no outward signs of being infected and will develop a full immunity to it. The others however cannot fully escape the side-effects. They can be killed but not by the virus as long as they continue to stave it off. Their bodies may rot but the consumption of flesh becomes their reprieve, causing wide-scale regeneration of the wounds. These are the ones built to fight the others for they sense when the undead are near and can break free from the mental commands of the second type. This third plague victim is most fortunate because when bitten or wounded by weapons, the area can regenerate. No amount of plague exposure will advance their condition. In a sense, they are our only hope of finding and defeating the ones already turned.”

“And you think I am one of those.” Aiden said, his throat dry.

“I know you are.”
“How do you know which one though? I could turn at any second!”

The old man shook his head, chuckling. “No lad, you have already survived the test.”

“Test? What test?” But already Aiden knew the answer.

“Do you remember killing all those animals? There were at least four you know.”
Aiden’s green eyes looked for any trace of a lie in the old man’s grey ones. “How do you—,”

“I found the bodies of those four. Not including the woman.” The old man inhaled deeply and rubbed his legs with his palms. “According to what we know, the disease immerses the victim in darkness where it struggles to take over the carrier. If successful, the heart stops and either release the soul or keep it, depending on how strong the will of the person is. Or, the person is able to break through this period and pull away intact. This is what I assume you have already done.”

Aiden nodded numbly. It was true, he knew it was and there was little use in denying it. Perhaps the old man was right and there was something he could do to continue living. Even if it meant being in a state of perpetual degeneration, if he stayed alive long enough, he could figure out a way to help his family. He owed it to them to at least try. “So what now?”

The old man smiled, showing yellowed teeth. He raised himself up from the chair and hobbled over to the bookcase near the fireplace. When he returned, a thin leather-bound book occupied his hand. His fingers caressed the cover that bore no title and he set it onto the tabletop. “My grandfather wrote down all the great mysteries that my family’s bloodline had seen. In there is everything I told you and more regarding the plague.” The old man sighed wistfully. “The only problem is that a bundle of pages has been torn, right as the account of what happened began to tell how our ancestors stopped the plague and returned the world to rights.”

Aiden picked up the book, glancing at the old man’s resigned expression. “I thought you said no one had recorded these events.”

The old man shrugged. “This would be the only living document of such things but the bulk of the information was passed to me as I have passed it to you today. Take the book, read it as best as you can. It’s written in the old style and is often confusing. Do not remove the book from my property however, in the wrong hands that can be a powerful tool.”

Aiden chuckled to himself, calling back to the old man as he retreated down the hallway toward the back rooms. “You make it sound like we’re in some sort of war.”

The old man’s faint response chilled Aiden suddenly. “Who says we aren’t?”