Here's the second chapter, and the longest one yet to boot! We're gonna start winding down soon; I'm thinking another 3 or 4 chapters before I'll bring it to a close. Thanks for sticking with me this long!
The Swarm was hot on their tail once more, a mob of twisted human flesh that pursued them like hounds from Hell. Navigating through the rubble-strewn streets as a unit however proved cumbersome, and the unlikely couple of the human girl and the rider of Death managed to gain headway. Death fell back to slice through the few who had caught up to them, twin scythes whirling in a furious dance.
The only preamble to the sudden explosion was a faint, high pitch whistling noise and a feeling of built pressure about to burst. Death turned and barked a warning towards the girl, too little too late as the building on the left promptly exploded, windows and walls blowing out in cascades of glass and brick that kick the dust up into a billowing cloud that swallowed the girl whole. Behind him, the screams of the Swarm grew louder, the pounding of their feet signaling their approach. Realizing that going back would be foolish he plunged into the dust cloud, the world immediately becoming muffled beneath a sky of dirt and ash. He could just vaguely see the glow of flames emerging from the destroyed building. He trod carefully, picking his way through boulder-sized chunks of brick and concrete, crunching broken shards of glass beneath his feet.
The sound of someone coughing drew his attention, and through the gradually settling dust he made out the outline of something small and human-shaped. The girl was on the ground, propping herself up on her elbows, streaked with blood and desperately trying to clear her lungs of the ash.
"I'm surprised you're still in one piece," Death commented as he came closer.
She squinted through the haze at the muffled sound of his voice, eyes bleary and unfocused. She stuck a finger in her ear, wiggling it around to try and rid it of the awful ringing that filled her head. Blood dripped down the side of her face. She blinked hard, shaking her head vigorously which seemed to help. "Sorry what?" she said, speaking a little louder than she needed to, "I couldn't hear you."
"Are you all right?" he shouted back. Clearly the answer was 'no' but he felt the need to ask.
"That's debatable..." she tried to push herself to her knees, biting back a yelp when fresh pain shot through her left leg. The flesh above her left knee was seeping with blood where shards of stones and glass had pierced her skin. "Ow, no, scratch that, not all right." She gently flipped onto her back, trying her best to keep pressure off the wounded leg. "Ooh, yeah, that's not good," she stated, though it felt like an understatement. There was kind of a lot of blood. "What about the swarm? Did we lose them?" A guttural scream came in reply.
Silhouettes bled through the dissipating cloud, moving fast. A living corpse leapt from the unit, clawed hands outstretched, eager for blood. A curved blade met it first, slashing through its throat with a spray of scarlet. Two more took its place. Death knew he would soon be overwhelmed and with the girl wounded it would be impossible to take them all. Death had had to run from fights far too much for his likely lately, but with a frustrated growl he turned on his heel, wrapped an arm around the girl's waist ignoring her protesting cries, and started to run.
She twisted in his grip and pulled herself up to look over his shoulder at the converging Swarm. Faces swam before her eyes and she growled. It's not them, she told herself as she ripped the hunting rifle from her back.
"Keep going!" she shouted over the undead screams. Death didn't acknowledge her but kept running all the same. The girl balanced in the crook of his arm, steadied the muzzle on his broad shoulder and took a deep breath, forcing her mind to calm in the midst of the noise and pain-induced adrenaline. Peering down the barrel with cold eyes, imagining a bullet between the eyes of the closest undead, she muttered, "Eat this," and pulled the trigger. Its head exploded with a sickening crack and it went down. Those behind it stumbled over its body. She took aim and fired again, putting another bullet through a rotting skull.
Another four went down before Death heard her swear, her gun empty and reloading impossible from her awkward angle. Death took it as a signal to lose the Swarm and hung a sudden right into a narrow alley and scrambled up a slope of collapsed brick, dropping down the wall on the other side and ducking into a deteriorating apartment building. He listened carefully with his back to the wall, refusing to so much as breath until he heard Dust call from a signpost on the corner, declaring them safe from the Swarm for a time.
The girl had grown limp in his grasp. "Put… me down," she croaked in a weak voice, "I have to dig out the shrapnel." Death gently set her back on her feet but didn't move to help her as she stumbled on her own before she half collapsed against the wall. Her hands shook as she removed her pack from her shoulder. From it she dug out a small skinning knife and a metal canteen. She tore the shredded denim of her jeans away from her leg, revealing the bloodied flesh that marred the skin above and around her left knee. Unscrewing the cap from the canteen, she gritted her teeth and poured the water from it over the wound, washing away blood and dirt and uncovering the shards of stone and glass that jutted from the ruined flesh.
Death watched intently with a morbid curiosity and what might have been concern as the girl pulled the small knife from a leather sheath. She placed the tip flat against her skin where a large piece of stone was embedded and, taking a deep shuddering breath, began to push. Fresh blood seeped from around the shard as she forced the blade deeper and deeper; eventually giving it a twist and the stone popped out and fell to the ground with a splat. She stopped to wipe the sweat and tears from her face before moving on to the next one. Her breathing was ragged and her lip bled from where she was biting it to hold back her cries of pain. Still, she worked ceaselessly until her hands were stained with blood and the last bit of glass wormed free of the wound. Finally, more water was poured over the wound and she tied it tightly with a roll of gauze. She slumped back against the wall, heaving a heavy sigh. Death was rather amazed with one so small. True, she looked rather worse for wear; she was horribly pale and the bandage around her leg was already tinged with red; but the fact that she had performed such a crude surgery while remaining conscious was impressive.
Dust swooped through a broken window and alighted on Death's shoulder with a raspy cry. The Swarm is returning, that cry warned him. He couldn't help but groan. Peace was nearly non-existent for him these days. Every lead he had found on his quest for War's absolution had led him on one wild goose chase after the next. He was beginning to feel that he would never find the secrets to the resurrection of humanity and the erasure of his brother's supposed crime.
And yet, here before him, was proof of War's innocence; living, breathing evidence in the form of a fiery young human. However, she needed to remain living and breathing for her testimony to be of any use. They needed to move immediately to remain ahead of the Swarm. "Get up little one," he called to her, rising to his feet. The girl didn't respond. Death moved toward her until he was close enough to notice that she had merely fallen unconscious, her chest rising and falling steadily, her breathing slightly shallow. Death sighed. Transporting her in the state she was in would be inconvenient, but he had no other choice if he wished to stay ahead of the Swarm long enough to complete his goal. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?" he asked the unconscious girl. It was already turning out to be a long day.
Her face was unnaturally warm against his bare shoulder, burning with fever as her body fought the shock of her injury. He had borne her weight easily on his back for the past few hours and still the girl slept on, twitching and whimpering in the grip of fever dreams. For the moment the streets were empty, the Swarm having moved on, no longer interested in the rider. Hot sulfurous wind skittered across the asphalt, blown from the molten pits that marred the landscape from the initial invasion. Dust flew high overhead to keep an eye out for the Swarm, and because his customary spot on Death's shoulder had been stolen by the girl.
He felt the girl stir and heard a groan as she slowly fought her way back into consciousness. One of her hands moved sluggishly to rub at her face. She blinked slowly, her brain slow to register what was happening. Death felt her attempt to shift her weight and heard the hiss of pain that followed the aggravation of her wounded leg. She groaned again, whether out of anger or out of exhaustion Death couldn't tell, and laid her feverish forehead back onto his shoulder.
"Have you decided to rejoin the land of the living?" he asked. Her initial reply was to heave a deep sigh.
"I dunno…" she mumbled, her speech slurring, "You sure I'm not dead?"
Death offered her a humorless chuckle in return. "Not quite, I'm afraid. You got rather close though."
"Hmm…"
For a time, the only sound that could be heard was the rider's footsteps on the pavement. The girl was deep in thought, and Death could practically hear the gears turning in her head. "Hey Big Guy?" she asked suddenly, her voice sounding higher and younger than he was used to. He grunted to let her know that he was listening. "Do you believe in fate?" The sudden question nearly made him falter in his stride.
"Where has this come from?" the girl gave a lazy shrug.
"Dunno," she replied, "I was just thinking… every time something like this has happened before, I've been lucky enough to get away on my own. But this time…" she paused and took a deep breath, "I wouldn't have been able to escape the Swarm. They would've caught me for sure with the way my leg is so… maybe it was fate that we met each other." Death was silent, absorbing her words. He felt those hard blue eyes on the back of his head; eyes that had seen far too much destruction for one so young.
Finally he answered: "I believe that fate is not so set in stone that it cannot be changed. I chose to come here so that I may find the means by which to change the fate of my brother, after all. Perhaps finding you was simply a consequence of the path I have chosen."
"A consequence, huh? That's one way of putting it I guess," the girl sounded a good deal more coherent, the conversation helping to wake her up. "If that's the case, I suppose you could say that if you didn't show up, I wouldn't be in this goddamn mess in the first place!" her chuckling quickly devolved into a fit of coughing, after which she fell silent.
"Have you any idea as to how close the last piece of the Rod is?" he asked to break the silence. The girl moved her head and squinted, trying to discern where they were through the haze in her thoughts.
"Well…" she started, "I think that used to be one of the east entrances to Central Park," she pointed and Death followed her finger, spying the soot-blackened wrought-iron gate beyond which charred skeletal trees reached their limbs into the sky. "I remember seeing a bunch of demons somewhere in an old subway terminal near here…" she strained to eyes to decipher the ash covered street signs. "Looks like we just passed 75th. The closest station is on 77th. Keep going a couple more blocks and take a right. That's probably where it is."
Death took her direction and trekked on. Black clouds had started to gather on the northern horizon, promising a bout of rain. Death had rarely visited the Third Kingdom before the false apocalypse; only necessity brought him here now. Still, it was plain to see the amount of destruction caused by the clashing armies of heaven and hell. Towering skyscrapers now stood like cold monuments, every window shattered and every room dark and abandoned. Humans had always been a thriving race; so many cities teeming with life. Now, it was empty, like the skin of a huge snake left to dry in the sun. Only one little life was left, and it was currently sitting on his back.
The station was cold and dark at the bottom of the stairs. Death felt a tap on his shoulder before the girl spoke: "You can put me down now," she said, "I need to work some feeling back into my legs."
"Are you certain?" the last thing he needed was for her to aggravate her injured leg. It would only slow them down more.
"I've had worse," Death was silent, unconvinced. "C'mon, I'll be careful. We should go slowly anyway. There are a lot of nasty things down here that we don't want to run into." Death slowly knelt and she slid carefully from his back, bracing herself against him as her legs shook beneath her before she gained her footing. "See, I'm fine," she told him as he stood and examined her skeptically. The scratches on her face had ceased bleeding, but the bandage around her leg was stained a violent red. She followed his gaze and grimaced. "Yeah, I'll fix that, gimme a minute," she grumbled, hobbling to a wall and leaning against it. Death left to scout ahead as she dressed her wound, watching for signs of movement in the dark tunnels. His footsteps echoed loudly against cracked concrete walls, the sound bouncing and magnifying more than he liked. The girl had been right about going slowly; anything could creep up on them out of the gloom.
Uneven footsteps signaled the girl's approach. She moved surprisingly well, although her left leg was being quite obviously favored. Her eyes however were clear and alert, her fever easing and allowing her to focus. Her hunting rifle was clenched in her hands, fully loaded. Death allowed her to take the lead. "C'mon, it's this way," she kept her voice soft, though the sound still echoed. The trek forward was slow, the constant noise around them keeping them on edge. She finally stopped, leaning against a corner and looking around the edge. She looked back to him and silently gestured him forward with a jerk of her chin. Death leaned over her and look around the corner and was greeted by the sight of a final piece of the Rod hanging in a webbing of black slime and guarded by dozens of lesser demons.
"Stay here," he hissed in her ear, "and try not to draw any attention to yourself." Dust, sensing the oncoming conflict, leapt from Death's shoulder to the girl's who flinched ever so slightly at the talons he dug into her skin.
"I got it," she hissed right back, failing to keep the impatience from her tone, "now go and slice 'em to pieces so we can get out of this hell hole!"
Death didn't need to be told twice. Scythes in hand he stepped rather casually into the demons' line of sight, immediately raising a bellow. From where the girl hid in the shadows, she could hear the symphony of carnage being conducted by none other than the personification of Death himself. The demonic roars of fury were quick to turn into screeches of pain before being silenced forever by Death's blade. One unfortunate demon flew past, slamming into the unforgiving wall and crumpling to the ground, leaving a nice streak of dark crimson on the concrete. The cacophony died with the wet gurgling of a final demon. The girl crept cautiously from her hiding place to behold the utter decimation of the guard. The tunnel was littered with bodies, soaking the ground with their blood. Amidst the wreckage stood the Pale Rider, already turning his attention to the trapped fragment of the Rod of Arafel. The blade of his scythe sliced easily through the goo and the head of the rod dropped into his outstretched hand.
The girl's whistle of appreciation echoed loudly in the tunnel as she examined the gore-covered floor. "Not bad," she said, stepping awkwardly over a demon's dismembered torso, "Looks to me like they didn't even put up much of a fight." Dust swooped from her shoulder and landed on a demon's severed head, busying himself with yanking an eye out of its socket before the corpse began to disintegrate.
"Hardly more than a nuisance. The Demon Lords must be truly short-handed if this was all they could offer."
"But that's it right?" she asked, gesturing to the sunburst-shaped head of the angelic rod in his hand, "We're actually done? We can leave?"
"I believe so Little One. Unless of course there's anything more to keep you here?"
Her head shook in a blur. "No way, let's get outta here!" she exclaimed, "I'm so ready for things to not try and kill me anymore!"
"I wouldn't hold my breath girl," he warned her, "Even if I take you away from this world, it may very well be even more dangerous. If you decide to stay here, I will not stop you."
"Yeah well, I think I'll take my chances. Anything will be better than waiting around here for something to kill me. I'm tired of being hunted." There was conviction in her voice; she had made her choice.
"Very well then," he nodded, taking the three pieces of the rod and allowing them to become whole once more. Light burst forth as the parts connected, and the restored Rod of Arafel fell back into the Horseman's hands. "Come, we much return this to its rightful owner."