Beside him, a disembodied finger curled and rolled onto its back.
38
Empire
"This," Tetch said as he descended the steps into the cellar, "my afterdead found when they were laying the explosives in the garbage dump." He was carrying a small bundle in his arms. Palmer craned her neck to follow his progress across the room.
"I want to see what you think." Tetch brushed specks of dirt from the blanket and uncovered whatever was inside. There was movement within; Palmer steeled herself. It had to be some sort of animal. "I brought it back in the swamp. Now, you take a look at it, and you tell me whether or not I am a god, a god without fear of death."
He thrust the premature infant at her. Its toothless mouth opened and let out a gurgling sound; thick red bile spattered the reverend's face.
Palmer wailed and turned her head away, but the vile smell of the baby surrounded her and she retched. Tetch danced around her, pushing the bundle into her face every time she turned. Palmer cried to her lord, but there was only the stench of the dead thing in the blanket and Tetch's earsplitting laughter.
Then, with a howl, he turned and hurled the baby into the brick wall. A wet smack, then silence.
The razor swept across Palmer's throat in a flash. Her screams drowned in a torrent of blood that spilled into her lap and pooled at her feet.
Tetch straddled her, letting the blood soak his abdomen and groin. Taking her limp head in his hands, he pressed his face to hers. He threw open the conduits in his body and called her dying breath into his lungs.
Tell me, he thought, tell me everything.
He saw others in the city and saw that their number was four. They had slaughtered as many of their own as his afterdead had. They were hiding in the police house — no, the city hall. He strained to catch a glimpse of Lily among them, but there was nothing there in the reverend's memory.
Yet they must have her, he thought.
Shaking the scraps of Palmer's subconscious from his mind, he refocused and tried to locate the dark man. Nowhere to be found. Only the feral undead wandering the streets. Hundreds of them.
This was his empire — though the city had originally been much larger, before the security walls were erected, it was enough to serve his needs at the moment. And these brainless rotters could be educated. Yes, they could be trained, but he would go farther — and before long they wouldn't just be going through the motions of people in a proper society. The dead would come to comprehend their role in the empire, they would fill his court and worship at his feet and would be far more sophisticated than the living that struggled to subsist in this new world.
He'd considered moving his home to the old bank, but ultimately decided he would stay here in the swamp, the source of the energy that permeated the virus, the so-called "plague". Dealing with these infected rotters instead of his murdered siblings would be a new challenge, but he welcomed any opportunity to prove himself.
Now he just needed Lily. LILY!
WHERE ARE YOU?!
(I gave you pretty dresses and I watched you dance. I gave you warm food and watched you eat. I gave you a safe bed and I watched you sleep)
He concentrated hard, gathering the energy that ebbed from the reverend's body, and sought Lily's spirit. He knew intimately her heart and mind
(and you will know her flesh)
and might be able to sense her innocence out there, burning bright amongst the primal fear and hunger of the city. So he rocked atop the corpse in the chair, overturning every grain of sand in Jefferson Harbor.
There!
Yes, she WAS with the living!
He tasted of her hatred for him and nearly fell to the floor.
"The dark man…how has he poisoned you against me? Lily…I love you…"
The reverend's blank face seemed to mock him. He backhanded her, spilling more blood from her throat.
He called for his siblings. They came down the stairs and fixed their eyes on the corpse.
"Eat." He told them. "Then clean up and meet me in the yard. We're going to get her."
The bundle lying against the wall squirmed. Creeping closer, Tetch pried the blood-caked fabric back and saw there, in that corrupted flesh, a tiny hand. Its webbed fingers clenched and unclenched without purpose.
He covered it back up and stepped away. "I'm not your god."
The others had descended on Palmer. Tearing thick ribbons of skin away in their teeth, they paused only to yank bits of clothing and hair from their mouths, pushing at each others' hands to get to the best parts first. Her breasts were ripped off and gnawed for a few seconds before being discarded. Simeon pushed his hands down her throat and tugged at her innards while the others groaned in anticipation.
Tetch stared in disgust. When Palmer's ribs began to crack he went upstairs.
39
Mine
So it came to be that, as Voorhees dragged the headless bodies of Lauren and Thom to the roof of City Hall, he found a man waiting on the roof of the police department and was greeted with a wave and a smile.
"So you're the city's policeman?" The man called.
Voorhees dropped the bound feet he held in either hand and hissed "Quiet!"
The man shrugged. "They're all busy." He gestured downward, and Voorhees peered over the edge. On the plaza, a pickup truck was making lazy circles. The rotters still left in the vicinity had gathered around and were lurching feebly at it with each pass.
There was a goddamn rotter behind the wheel.
"I'm Baron Tetch." The man said.
"Senior P.O. Voorhees." Came the reply. The cop gritted his teeth. He'd left the shotgun inside.
"The last of a dying breed." Tetch remarked. He studied the sky, still stained with smoke. "I'm not dead yet." Voorhees called back.
"You found my little girl, didn't you?" Asked Tetch. "Saved her life. I can't thank you enough. I'd offer you a ride out of town with us, but there isn't any more room in the truck."
"There would be if you dumped that corpse out of it."
Two gunshots rang out. Voorhees stumbled toward the edge again.
A well-dressed rotter, standing outside the entrance to the PD, had kneecapped another one that tried to get inside. Voorhees watched in horrified fascination as the undead reloaded its revolver.
"Those corpses mean a great deal to me." Tetch said as he followed Voorhees' gaze.
"Of course. They're your brothers and sisters."
"So Lily's been talking." That cold smile never left Tetch's face. "You want to bargain, then?"
"There's no bargain to be made." Voorhees let his voice rise in volume. If it attracted any attention, Tetch's little helpers could deal with it. "You're responsible for more deaths than I can remember. You think I'm going to hand over that girl to you?"
"Going to arrest me?"
"Doesn't seem like there'd be much point."
Tetch clasped his hands and cocked his head. Waiting for Voorhees to exhaust his bravado and realize that he was the lesser man. To give up the child. Instead, the cop stepped to the edge of the roof.
"She's talked about other things. You like 'em young, don't you Baron?"
The young man's arrogance drained from his face and he was the pathetic little worm that Voorhees had seen all along. The yawning space between them seemed to contract, Tetch's shoulders dropping, his stance changed from threatening to threatened.
"I can see why you prefer the company of those maggot-eaten retards. They don't judge you, do they? They don't care what you do in your house out there in the swamp. Out there, you're the only man Lily needs — isn't that right?"
Tetch's lip curled as he glared in the cop's direction, but he wouldn't look directly at him. Voorhees pushed further. "I've been here a long time. I know people like you. You think you can do whatever you want. But this city still has a cop." He slipped his hand into his trench coat. "And no, I'm not going to arrest you."