CHAPTER TEN: THE DEATH OF LOU

Narkis was in bad shape, to put it lightly. The past three days had been a constant struggle to survive. With his wounds, any normal person would have died during the first night when the zombies came out. But not Narkis—he knew how to keep himself alive.

Shortly after Lou and his rescuer drove off in the Jeep, Narkis crafted a plan to stay alive. Survivalism was all about being prepared, and Narkis started by dragging all of his fallen allies into the church. He did all this while crawling—his legs were useless. The Jeep had crushed them.

Leaving corpses out in the open was a bad idea. Zombies were attracted to the odor of death, and if they found Narkis's crew, it would be like a buffet. The undead would feast on the corpses until they reanimated, and then Narkis would have even more zombies to deal with.

After he finished dragging them all inside, he shut the church doors and barricaded them. The trapdoor behind the lectern was open. Beneath it were a half dozen captive zombies, easily capable of overpowering the crippled Narkis if they got ahold of him. He didn't take any risks—the trapdoor was closed and bolted immediately.

When night came, Narkis heard the undead emerge and roam the land around the church. They were not very numerous—it was difficult for zombies to get this far past Quad—but they were dangerous nonetheless. He didn't sleep much, knowing he would snore and attract them to the building, so he spent the night lying beneath a pew trying to stay silent. Morning came after what felt like an eternity, and the zombies dissipated into the nearby cave systems.

Narkis emerged from beneath the pew and climbed up to the bell tower using his one good arm and his teeth. He found a stash of supplies there, and drank some water and ate what small morsels of food were available. It occurred to him that he didn't have much sustenance to live on, and if he didn't find a way out of here, would die of malnutrition.

The second day consisted of looking for food. The cacti near the church were good sources of moisture, but were almost impossible to harvest with neither of Narkis's legs working and one arm broken. He was reduced to drinking water from dirty puddles, and when his stomach began to growl, was forced to eat the last of the food stocked up in the church—which wasn't much. Narkis didn't know what he would eat the next time he got hungry.

That night was a rough one. Narkis had gone two days without sleep, and in between yawns, found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. He managed to get some sleep amid the growls from the undead outside, and never snored terribly loud because of how shallow his slumber was.

The lack of rest coupled with the exertion of the past few days left Narkis exhausted. He was malnourished—dehydrated and in need of food. Spending any more time out in the sun would cook him to death. So he did what he felt was the only option—he consumed his dead crew. There were a couple of wooden slats leaned against the wall, which he placed out on the front steps of the church and lit ablaze. Using the fire, he cooked his fallen allies until they were brown and tender. They kept him going for the rest of the third day, until help finally arrived at sundown.

Narkis had a decent following throughout Blockland, although this region was where most of his people resided. After the news of Argus killing the zombie traffickers became mainstream, and Narkis had not been heard from in days, some of his more distant followers decided to come out to the church and see what had happened to their leader. They came in a Jeep held together by welded scrap metal and rusty bolts.

The Jeep appeared shortly before the sun skimmed the horizon. It barreled down the empty road and came to stop near the church, where Narkis lay near the fire with bloodstained hands and broken limbs. He was almost undistinguishable from a zombie, and would have been left behind had he not spoken.

"Who the hell are you?" he barked at the people in the Jeep.

"Narkis?"

He realized who they were. They were from up north, where zombies and sand were foreign concepts. But they were Narkis's loyal followers nonetheless.

"Gorman?" said Narkis. "Is that you?"

Gorman hopped out of the Jeep, followed by two other raiders, and they rushed to Narkis's aid.

"Shit, Nark. What happened to you?"

"I'll tell you what happened. A trio of nobodies destroyed us."

"Nobodies?"

"I'll tell you more in the car." He winced. "Pick me up. Put me in the backseat and take me to a damn hospital."

Gorman and his two followers scooped Narkis up between them. They were careful not to agitate his broken limbs, but it made no difference. Being lifted into the air while his broken legs and arm dangled in the air was excruciating. It felt like he was falling apart in their arms, and he gritted his teeth in agony until they set him down in the backseat of the Jeep.

With Narkis in the car, Gorman got into the driver's seat and started off. They sped northward in the direction of Undeshire.

"Alright Nark," said Gorman. "Fill us in. What happened?"

"Me and the boys had just got back from wrangling a taxman. We got a bag over his head and were about to feed him to the zombies. Everything's going great. We toss the taxman into the pit and I'm watching his insides come out. I turn to Linus and say, 'Hey, go get my bag.' And you know what happens next?"

"What?"

"We hear someone up in the tower bump into the bell. We've got intruders. Linus starts climbing up that ladder while I've got Hules leashing some of the zombies, since we don't know who we're dealing with. Me and some of the boys crawl up to the roof just in time to see this punk-ass college kid draw a sword and kill Linus. The punk and his girlfriend jump off the roof and are about to get away when Hules comes out with the zombies, and we all corner them. This next bit is where it gets shitty.

"We're about to do these college kids in, when this maniac in a Jeep comes out of nowhere. Runs me over, then pulls out a shotgun and cuts through the whole crew. I'm in fucking awe as the gang just stands there and lets this freak destroy us. He and the kids get in their Jeep, and they're gone, and I'm left there wondering what the fuck happened."

"How long ago was that?"

"Three days."

"Shit, Nark. You survived crippled for three days?"

"You think I'd go down that easy? It was only a matter of time until someone showed up. Could have been weeks in this backwater, but someone would come by eventually."

"Well we're going to get you to a hospital, they'll fix you up. You have any idea who did this to you? Any names?"

"I heard one name," Narkis revealed. "The one with the sword. Lou."

They drove to Undeshire, arriving there after the sun had set and darkness had descended on the land. The town's hospital wasn't very big, it had a staff of about thirty, but it worked well enough. The doctors there were able to give Narkis a new arm and a fresh set of legs—they had replacements stocked up—but were unable to do anything about his damaged eye except clean it and dress it. He would wear an eye patch for the rest of his life.

"You look like a supervillain," Gorman remarked as Narkis stepped out of the operating room.

"Good." He marched past them toward the exit, and they followed.

"Where are you going?"

"Warehouses. My buyers are there."

"You haven't heard about what happened to them?"

Narkis stopped. He looked at Gorman. "I haven't."

"They were killed. All of them."

"Fuck," he hissed. "We're still going."

They got into the Jeep and drove across the river to the warehouses. The one Narkis's buyers were using was blocked off by police tape, but that didn't stop him from tearing it down and walking in.

"Stay here," he told Gorman. He walked into the warehouse and found two police officers there.

"Hey," one of them said. "You can't be here."

"Is that so?" Narkis didn't stop. He approached one of the shipping containers, and heard growls of the undead within.

"Get away from that!" One of the cops came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Narkis spun around and punched him.

"Oh shit," the other cop said. "You're—you're Narkis."

"Yes I am," he affirmed, and drew a pistol. The two police officers didn't bother him after that. They never did their jobs again.

Gorman appeared at the warehouse entrance moments later.

"Nark? I heard shots."

"I told you to wait in the car."

"I thought you might be in trouble."

Narkis stepped away from the shipping container. "Is that how you and the rest of the raiders operate up north?"

"What?"

"I told you to wait in the car. A couple gunshots were all it took for you to disobey me?"

"Like I said, I thought—"

"Save it."

Narkis and Gorman walked back out to the Jeep. Gorman's two raider friends were there, waiting patiently.

"I don't think I caught your names," Narkis said to them.

"Geordie," said one.

"Markus," said the other.

Narkis shot them both in the heads.

"What the fuck, Nark!" Gorman yelled.

"That was your fault. You disobey orders, people get killed. They would have lived if you had done what you were told."

"Narkis, you're insane."

Gorman was slugged in the face. He fell to the ground.

"Are you serious?" said Narkis. "You're all I've got up north? What kind of name have you made for my crew?"

"Calm down!"

Narkis offered a hand to Gorman and helped him up. "That was a glimpse of the way we run things down south. Either you man up and follow the rules, or you die. Get it?"

Gorman knew better than to keep arguing. "I got it."

"Then come on. Let's pay a visit to the inn—maybe Lou stopped off here."

They emptied Markus' and Geordie's bodies from the car and left them there. Then they drove the nearest inn—a large building meant to look like a grand log cabin—and walked inside. The interior smelled of crisp burning wood and the musk of the outdoors. It was supposed to be a nature-themed lodge, but as someone who had spent plenty of time in the wilderness, Narkis knew how inauthentic the place was.

He stepped up to the front desk, with Gorman following, and rang a small bell. A smiling young lady stepped out and greeted them.

"Hi there! Sorry for the wait. Are you here for a room?"

"I'm here to see the guest records."

She gave him a funny look. "Sorry, but we don't let anyone see the records except for lodge staff. I can get you a room though."

"Lady," he said, and drew a pistol. "Don't make me do this."

She had no qualms showing him the guest records after that. Narkis and Gorman found the last person to stay at the inn was named Argus Pearl, but that name didn't sound familiar to either of them. There was no entry for anyone named Lou, and for a moment, the trail seemed dead. Narkis thought the people who ruined him had gotten away.

And then he had an idea.

"Do you have security cameras?"

"Yes," the receptionist answered with a quivering voice.

"Show me the tapes."

They went into the back office and she accessed the security cameras. She jumped back to the last guest they had, Argus, and Narkis immediately recognized the people in the video.

"Stop," he ordered.

"What is it?" Gorman asked.

"That man—he's the one who came in the Jeep. And that's Lou behind him." He looked at the receptionist. "Him—is he Argus Pearl? Is he the one who bought the room?"

"Yes."

Narkis looked pleased. "We know all their names then, except for the girl. But I doubt she will be leaving Lou any time soon." He turned away from the security feed and started for the door. "Come on, Gorman. We're done here."

"What about this one?" he said in regard to the receptionist. "What if she calls the police?"

Narkis stopped and looked at her. She was terrified. "She won't call the cops on us. Not if she values this town." And he walked out.

Across the street was a bar. Narkis didn't like the look of it—its neon sign and upbeat atmosphere were too youthful and cheery for him. He'd still drink there though, but before that, changes had to be made.

He and Gorman walked in. The bar's dozen patrons shifted their gazes to the door, and Narkis didn't have to introduce himself for them to know he was trouble. Two dirty men, dressed in leather and furs, one of them wearing an eye patch and having three replacement limbs—the bar patrons already recognized them as raiders. But raiders were a common thing throughout all of Blockland's frontiers, and some gangs were less threatening than others. Two run-of-the-mill outlaws didn't pose a threat unless they were notorious.

But Narkis was the definition of notorious.

"Well look here, Gorman," he said loud enough for the whole bar to hear. "They don't recognize me. My new legs and my eye patch have made me a new man."

"I guess they have Narkis."

The people knew his name. They cleared out of the building fast and without a complaint, leaving the bartender alone and fearing for his life.

Narkis and Gorman sat at the bar.

"Barkeep—a round of beers."

The bartender swallowed hard. "Sure thing." He ducked behind the counter and pulled out a couple glasses and filled them up. "On the house."

"I appreciate it." Narkis looked past him, into one of the back rooms. "What's back there?"

"Uh, storage."

"It looks like it could use a cleaning for the next half hour."

The bartender took the hint and left them alone. He disappeared into the storage room and didn't come out until a half hour had gone by. In the meantime, the raiders were left to talk.

"So what's the plan now?" asked Gorman.

"The plan," said Narkis, "is to find Lou and Argus Pearl—then kill them." He drank from his glass. "I'll be the death of Lou."

"How do you expect to find them? We have nothing to go on."

"Oh yes we do. Argus drove a fine Jeep, a hard one to miss. I'm sure there's someone in this town who saw where he and Lou were headed."

The raiders drank their beer and left later that night. They would begin a hunt for Argus and Lou the next morning in pursuit of vengeance. Dozens of people would die in their wake, the majority of which being totally innocent.

Lou was a catalyst like that. Blockland was a static place before he came along—sure, it had its power struggles, and its genocides, and its peacetimes. But the day Lou fell from his universe into Blockland's was the day all of that paled in comparison to what was ahead.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading up to chapter ten. As a burgeoning teenage writer with a love for storytelling, it means a lot to know someone likes my work enough to stick with it for over 28,000 words. The first ten chapters focused on introducing characters and setting the stage for the main conflict of the story, so if you feel it was slowly paced, you're not wrong—it has been largely exposition so far. The part of the story that comes next should be more exciting. Here's to another ten chapters.