Kill Zombies (Leopard King Saga) Read online

  Finally Digby broke. He couldn’t withstand the interrogations any longer so he made up stories to satisfy his tormentors inquiries. He would feed them bullshit about being a member of a strike team sent by the underground to launch a counterstrike against the Vampire hegemony. He would give them fake addresses in fictitious towns and tell them the underground was planning on seizing nuclear missile silos and using them against suspected Vampire strongholds. He even told them that his job as an auto mechanic was just a cover. Digby did not care if they found out he was lying. His hopes rested on becoming such a nuisance to the hegemony that they would kill him and put him out of his misery.

  The interrogations stopped. For a short while. Digby did not know what more he could do to earn an easy death sentence. Then something happened that was quite unexpected.

  A member of the Militia made contact with him and promised to get him out of his predicament. But he would have to do them a favor. At first Digby thought this was a clever Vampire ruse designed to lull him into false security. But the militia agent, who identified himself as Robert Jacobs, eventually convinced Digby that he was legitimate. So Digby put his life in Jacobs’ hands.

  One morning Jacobs injected him with a serum that would slow his heartbeat to a rate that would fool Vampire detection devices into thinking he was dead and ready to be processed.

  “You’ll be in a suspended state,” Jacobs had told him. “Long enough for me to get you past security, and out of this meat market.”

  Digby had agreed. What other choice did he have? The job went according to plan and he awoke ten hours later in Bradenton, Florida. This was one of the Militia’s safe houses that they used for meetings. It was here that Jacobs revealed his true nature. Digby would never believe what he was about to tell him.

  “He called himself Archon,” Digby said. “A timekeeper from a race of advanced humans that had colonized the galaxy thousands of years ago. “He also told me that the Vampire/Zombie menace had to be stopped and that I was to be a part of his plans.”

  Reptilius exhaled. This story was getting sicker by the moment. He just wanted to get back to his Florida and seal the anomaly, using the stash of Cobalt he had amassed over the years. “I have a feeling this involves me.”

  Digby nodded. “Jacobs, or Archon,” he began, “was creating outposts across the various realities that existed within time-space index. In exchange for saving my life, he asked that I become one of his ‘Caretakers.’ This was an individual who would volunteer to be sent to a chosen reality and keep track of any possible Zombie incursions that could possibly disrupt human evolution.”

  Reptilius groaned. “This is one extraneous story, Tom.”

  “It gets even heavier: I was brought to this reality and tasked with reporting directly to Archon. Now that you’re here I must inform him that your reality is in danger as well.”

  Reptilius stood up and shook his head. “I don’t want to get involved.”

  “You’re already involved. That anomaly is probably busy probing your time, causing realities to flux, or constantly overlap one another. If you don’t act it’ll start sending Zombies through it; it’s just a matter of time before your world belongs to The Sect.”

  The last thing Reptilius wanted was more problems. His reality had already repulsed its Death Walker menace, or ‘Zombies’ as this Tom called them.

  “I can send you back, but you have to act decisively to end this threat.”

  “I can’t do it alone, Tom. Even with my mutant croc, Sawtooth; I’d need help.”

  Tom nodded. “I know, and you’d be foolish to enlist outside help without attracting unwanted attention. But I think I can help you out.”

  Tom led Reptilius back to the spot where the anomaly had brought him. “As soon as you go back I’ll contact you and give you further instructions on how to proceed.” Tom pulled out a tiny thin circular object that resembled the coins still used in Reptilius’ reality. He pressed it into Reptilius’ hand. “This receiver will lead you to another anomaly where you’ll be able to find help. I know what you’re thinking,” Tom said, “you think by returning to your time and detonating the Cobalt you’ll seal the anomaly. Perhaps, but you’d be risking a transgression if you interfere with how the universe wants to play this one out. Trust me, Archon has thought of everything.”

  How could he know what I was thinking? Reptilius wondered. But it was useless to ask. It would only complicate matters. And his life seemed to be getting more warped by the moment.

  “Ready to go back?” Reptilius nodded. “Remember, when you return to your world, realities will already be fluxing.” Tom produced a handheld device and pressed a button. Reptilius felt his stomach souring, and the unpleasant sensation he had experienced when he’d first encountered the anomaly returned. He blacked out and saw a vortex of stars around him. Before space folded, and he lost consciousness again.

  When he awoke he was standing knee-deep in sludge. A familiar grunt arose behind him and he was relieved to see Sawtooth where he had left him before his unforeseen voyage. Or was it a dream? He looked down at his palm and saw the coin-like object Tom had given him. No. It was real. Sawtooth trudged toward him and grunted again. “I’d tell you where I went boy, but you’d never believe me.”

  The croc’s eyes narrowed and Reptilius chuckled. “Let’s go home, I need a drink.”After Reptilius had left, Tom pocketed the “Enabler” Archon had given him. He did not like having to trust a man of Reptilius’ character with such an important task, but he had no other choice. It’s not like he could leave this reality. Archon would never forgive him for dereliction of duty. Besides, he hated those fucking vein-suckers for what they had done to him. He wondered what had happened to his family. His wife and three children. One girl and two boys. The Sect had probably punished them for his actions. But Archon had refused to rescue them, citing the changes could destabilize this reality. He had assured Tom that in other realities he and his family were together, happily living out their existences.

  That was a far cry from what he wanted to hear, he wasn’t concerned with his other selves, it was this reality that concerned him.

  And then there was the Reptilius factor. Would the game hunter follow through with his task? Reptilius did not strike him as trustworthy. No doubt he would flee at the first opportunity.

  Tom sighed and cursed under his breath. He hobbled back toward his house. Archon would want an update on his activities.

  ***

  Reptilius lay awake in his hammock and thought about his strange trip. First he had seen Tom—a man supposedly dead—alive. Of course it wasn’t really Tom. Or was it? His Tom, the one from his own reality, was ashes, the victim of a Death Walker incursion. And then there was the cockamamie story of global Vampire Sect taking control of Tom II’s old reality. At first he couldn’t help but laugh, something he was unaccustomed to. But Tom had been so convincing. His story exact to the letter. It seemed unlikely he could’ve concocted such bullshit on the fly—it was a story that every conspiracy theorist would drool over.

  Reptilius watched as Sawtooth grinded the dry chicken bones he had dined on earlier. It was a post-meal habit the croc engaged in every night, but Reptilius was still thinking about Tom II. A part of Reptilius wanted to destroy the coin device Tom II had given him before detonating the Cobalt. The first anomaly was still out there, and who the hell knew what would come through it? Something had, or else his Tom would still be alive.

  Then there was the assistance that Tom II had spoken of. What had he meant by that? Was it a secret stash of Cobalt from yet other reality? Or maybe an army to command that would answer to him? He wondered how and when this “assistance” would arrive, and in what shape it would present itself. There were many “what-ifs” involved with this story. Too many for his comfort level.

  He looked at Sawtooth who had finished his bone-grinding ritual and was making his way toward the hammock. Reptilius slid out of it and waited for the croc to come closer before he s
troked the hard, ridged skin of his friend. “This is too confusing for my tastes, boy,” he told the creature, who only returned his gaze through sleepy eyes. Reptilius’ own fatigue had caught up to him as well and he found himself thinking back to the time when he first encountered Sawtooth.

  It seemed like yesterday.

  After Malcolm Hendricks’ wife had left him, and before he had founded his lucrative dinosaur-hunting business, he was a loner. At least till one Tuesday evening on May 21st, 2129 he found himself stopping his Ford SUV on Interstate 75 eastbound, otherwise known as “Alligator Alley.”After drinking himself to death (intoxication was still possible with his postwar appendages—more on those later)he had found himself risking life imprisonment while driving home from Naples, Florida after another failed attempt at securing a wealthy investor to fund his prospective dinosaur-hunting business.

  Subconsciously he wanted to be arrested and have the state convict him of a DUI. Maybe he’d even get lucky and hit someone; that crime still carried the death penalty in his reality. But instead of an arrest he had ended up encountering the strangest of creatures. One that would come into his life at the most opportune moment, and alter it from self-destruction to redemption.

  When Malcolm’s SUV swerved off Interstate 75 to avoid hitting what he thought was a tortoise. He suffered a mild concussion when his vehicle crashed into a road barrier. His anger was greater than the throbbing headache the accident had gifted him, and it was indeed a gift. When he turned around to catch his breath at the side of the road, he was greeted by this strange being.

  A four-legged tetrapod stood at his feet. It was twice the size of any alligator he had ever seen –and Malcolm Hendricks, being the Florida boy that he was, had seen his fair share of alligators. Later he would learn that it was technically an American Crocodile, and a mutant to boot. At first he wondered how such a creature could be so large – especially since, unbeknownst to Malcolm it had just recently hatched. Then he recalled a news feed explaining how global radiation spores from nuclear fallout on other continents had caused various life-form mutations in North America.

  The creature stood there eying Malcolm like its next meal. Malcolm, who was skunk drunk and had the bastard of all headaches, returned its gaze. A part of him hoping that he would become the creature’s next meal, thus being put out of his misery and not having to worry about his future anymore. But much to Malcolm’s surprise, the creature let out a loud belch and climbed into the back seat of the SUV.

  Malcolm had nearly pissed himself silly. This dopey croc bastard had nearly caused his death; which at the time seemed like a blessing. Without further ado it had made itself at home in his vehicle. “I’ll be darned,” Malcolm had murmured before vomiting all over the barrier he had so gracefully damaged. In the backseat the croc was making strange noises that sounded like a cross between a gurgle and a fart.

  After more vomiting, and realizing that his SUV was still in driving condition, Malcolm had managed to make it to the next 7-Eleven and grab a 32 oz. black coffee which put a massive dent in his drunken stupor. He also found the croc making more of those “gurgle-fart” sounds. Call it some strange sort of intuition, but he had an idea the creature might even be hungry. After sixteen big bite hotdogs and four gallons of chocolate milk (which coincidentally made the cashier laugh when Malcolm had told him it was for a reptile lounging in his back seat) the creature stopped making noise. This lasted only for an hour and Malcolm was forced to purchase four ten pound slabs of baby-back ribs before the mutant monster was finally “full.”

  “You’ll eat me out of house and home,” Malcolm had told his new friend. But little did he know his life was about to change. That night he had purchased a lottery ticket from the 7-Eleven, and had won a small fortune in the amount of 49 million Southeastern U.S. currency (after tax deductions) and was on his way to the most unbelievable turnaround imaginable.

  Malcolm immediately concluded that the croc was his “lucky charm,” sent by some higher power (keep in mind he was not a religious man by nature, but had to reevaluate his personal beliefs after his newfound luck). He nicknamed the croc “Sawtooth.” Mainly because the scaly behemoth would grind his teeth like a saw against the remnants of bones he had stripped clean after one of his mega meals. But after winning the lotto, Malcolm was content to feed the creature as much food as it wanted. And feed him he did, until Sawtooth grew to an amazing weight of one half ton. Malcolm soon found himself the subject of massive media attention and

  reveled in his subsequent fame. It was then that he officially re-named himself into his alter ego: taking the name Croctus Reptilius. The name was heavily influenced by Malcolm’s fascination with history, mainly Ancient Rome. He had watched just about every historical newsfeed on Rome he could find, and often compared himself to the ancient gladiators that made their fame fighting in the arenas.

  With his dinosaur-hunting business now afloat thanks to his newfound capital, Croctus Reptilius was on his way to making a name for himself in the Raptor extermination trade. With Sawtooth as his fortune charm, and a staff of twenty highly-trained exterminators at his disposal, Reptilius’ business grew to astronomical proportions, earning his company the distinction of being the only one capable of bagging Raptors at an impressive rate without suffering any casualties.

  He even had a special set of armor created. He wore a protective breastplate, vambraces and greaves: modeled after Sawtooth’s scales and painted green. Now the Raptors would see him coming. For him, it did not matter if they did, Reptilius always captured his quarry.

  When Reptilius awoke the object Tom had given him was buzzing. He pulled it out of his cargo trousers and saw a small green light flashing on it before effusing a thin beam of light that probed his mind. It felt like someone was planting memories into his brain.

  Sawtooth saw what was happening and hissed at the object in Reptilius’ palm. “It’s alright boy. I think I know what its purpose is.”

  The Girl

  The coordinates implanted in Reptilius’ brain brought him to the outer edges of The Everglades. This was where he did not tread unless he was prepared for a fight, as Raptor activity was common here. Those that did venture here either returned maimed, or, did not return at all. He slowed Arrow and let its momentum guide him toward the shoreline where four alligators were lounging by the water. Sawtooth saw them and his snout opened, emitting a grunt that was either a greeting or a warning. Reptilius did not know which.

  Arrow made contact with shore and Reptilius climbed out. He made sure he was armed to the teeth. Sawtooth sauntered off the Arrow’s deck and hobbled toward the four alligators, which paid him no heed. The tetrapod grunted at his brethren again but the four gators were more interested lounging in their soft surroundings.

  “Let’s go boy, you can socialize with your friends some other time.” Sawtooth took one last look at the group before following Reptilius into the dense tidal flat. The muck made the trek slow-going, but Reptilius was used to this terrain. An ibis appeared in their path, eyed Sawtooth nervously, then sped off like a startled mouse.

  Sawtooth did not seem to mind that his next meal had disappeared, he kept swiveling his armored head backwards, as if he wanted to return to the company of the gators.

  Apart from a bird or two there wasn’t much life here. Global Radiation had done its work here, but slowly over time, nature would repair the damage.

  Reptilius stopped. He thought he heard a sound in the distance. At first he assumed it was a birdcall, but after hearing it again he changed his mind. It sounded like someone screaming. A girl perhaps. He picked up his pace.

  In the distance he saw a light that got brighter as he approached it. It was nestled within a corridor of overhanging foliage that opened up into a swamp clearing. There, he saw it. Another anomaly.

  It resembled a vortex. Ready to suck up his world. Unlike the anomaly that had brought him to Tom II’s reality, this one was red with a milky outline. The screams started again.
This time louder. Reptilius took off in its direction, careful not to get close to the anomaly. The last thing he wanted was to take another trip to some unknown locale.

  Sawtooth was right behind him and he could hear the croc’s labored breathing as it lumbered behind him like a scaly log.

  Reptilius heard the screams again. They couldn’t be more than twenty feet ahead. He emerged within another clearing, dotted with pinprick swamp trees. It was then that he saw the girl.

  She was dressed in a pink sweater and muddy jeans. Backed up against one of the trees, she was surrounded by three Raptors. They were snapping at her, and it would only be a matter of time before she became their next meal.

  Reptilius whistled at the beasts and their sharp hearing made them take notice of the two newcomers. Reptilius did not know why Tom II’s coin gadget had brought him here, but there must’ve been a reason.

  “Hey uglies!” he called out to the Raptors. Three pairs of angry eyes descended on him and Sawtooth. “Come to me!”

  The Raptors sensing another meal nearby turned their attention to Reptilius. The lead Raptor barred its teeth and charged.

  Reptilius, expecting this drew his hand ballista and fired a bolt at the Raptor. Its body exploded like a birthday piñata, spraying gore and vital organs. The second Raptor, ignoring its companion’s demise slashed at Reptilius with its front claws. His breastplate caught the brunt of the attack and he felt the impact reverberate throughout his body. But Sawtooth was nearby to prevent a second attack and bit into the Raptor’s hind leg with fervor.

  The beast, not expecting to be ambushed – especially by one of its own kind, tried to shake Sawtooth off; this only caused the croc to dig in. He tore a layer of scaly flesh from the Raptor’s leg—peeling the skin off like a banana peel.

  Reptilius had the precious moments he needed and slashed his Solar Whip at the Raptor. It wrapped around the beast’s muscular neck and with Sawtooth’s help he was able to pull it off balance. The Raptor struggled to rise from the murky swamp water, while Sawtooth was at his best when wrestling in the water. Within a matter of seconds the Raptor had ceased its struggles and was now floating lifelessly in the mud.