SurvivorZ: Grave Harbor

60

KEITH

For the survivors of Boston's Roxbury neighborhood, the end of the world meant weeks of near-constant warfare against an enemy the likes of which most people couldn't begin to imagine.

Their struggle began on the first day of the uprising when a host of zombies migrated their way from the cemeteries around Forest Hills. A passing military Humvee distracted the dead for a time, buying them a reprieve from the fighting. It didn't last long. In the days that followed, their attackers' ranks swelled with monstrosities from neighboring cemeteries, hospitals, and the Franklin Park Zoo.

In time, the brave survivors of Roxbury managed to push back against the cadaverous mob occupying their streets. After weeks of fighting, it seemed as though the end of the conflict might finally be in sight.

The end was nigh, of course, but not in the way they hoped.

Drawn by the sounds of warfare, a new enemy strode over the bodies of the slain. At the tip of the spear marched an undead figure in a stained, dark suit.

The revenant's name was inconsequential, even when he was alive. The only thing that set him apart from the ravenous throng following him was the misshapen scepter he bore in his pale hands. The human head attached to its spinal cord was a ragged collection of skin and bones that once went by the name of Keith Cross.

Most of the former mafia enforcer's memories flickered and died in the inky quagmire of his consciousness. The fragments that remained were a testament to a life of deceit, violence, cunning, and ruthlessness. His skills and instinct made him a valued asset for the undead army. Under his leadership, their numbers flourished as he led them from one bloodbath to the next.

Roxbury appeared to be a more challenging target than any they had faced thus far, but it wasn't insurmountable. With his guidance, his forces would soon feast on the prey hiding behind their makeshift walls.

Keith growled softly. His bearer swung him upright by his attached spinal cord and perched the alpha's half-eaten skull on his broad shoulder for a better look around.

He spotted three pairs of heads bobbing over the metal sheets mounted to the sides of overturned trucks. Their enemy watched them carefully, waiting for the horde to wander blindly into their trap. They were under the misguided impression that Keith and his ilk were mindless fodder, no different from those strewn about the ground around their feet. For all the fighting they've done, these people hadn't met one of his kind before. If they had, they would've started running already.

Movement from the windows of adjacent buildings caught his eye. Their enemy covered the street leading into the heart of the neighborhood. Practically every window of a four-story brick tenement to their left had at least one shooter lying in wait. More of them watched from the windows of a house standing behind a chain-link fence to their right. Every gun in Roxbury seemed to be waiting for them to step into firing range.

The delicious scent of sweat-glistened flesh teased his senses. Hungry growls rumbled from his troops. Keith sucked the outside air through his opened passages and rasped to contain them. His bearer repeated his call, braying out a stiff cry of obedience in a deep baritone. The rest of the pack fell silent and shuffled impatiently.

By now, Keith was certain his enemy's doubts about them were growing. The whine of arriving vehicles at the wall, delivering more of Roxbury's militia, should have spurred the horde forward. Their refusal to budge filled his enemy with a sickly fear that he could practically taste on the wind.

More faces popped up over the barricade for a quick peek at the uncharacteristically subdued corpse army. Keith snarled at them.

For some, the hunger proved too great. Keith's gaze shot to his right as one of his soldiers darted past, howling like a wild beast. Another followed his lead, and then a third raced by to his left. Keith checked, but no one else fell victim to their base impulses.