The Waystation Ch.29 (Patreon)

Chapter 29

The City of the Dead. I

The last of the trees fell, revealing the remains of an old and broken roadway. Bert whistled in appreciation. It was almost as large as the new road being left behind by the Waystation. Nothing moved in the mile or so between the end of the trees and the high walls of the city.

As the gorge gave way, a large ring of bare earth separated it from the city walls. Nothing grew on the open ground; even grass gave the area a wide berth. There was an eerie silence in the area, and Bert once again found himself missing the sound of an engine in the Hudson Express. Anything to break the awful stillness.

Bert climbed out of the Express and stood on its roof. Shading his eyes against the sun, he scanned the massive stone walls in front of him. They were made of a deep grey stone topped with a brilliant, shining bronze line. From this distance, he could see clear signs of repair in places.  Bell had been right; this place was occupied.

It made the silence even more unsettling, as a city of that size would make a din easily audible at this range. The sound of hammers, or people, something. The cracked and broken road ahead of the Express took a slightly winding path to the giant bronze gates. Twin towers of white, marble-like stone surrounded the gates. It was impressive or would be if there was any sign of life.

“Bert?” Bell came buzzing up as he stood and stared at the distant gate.

“I can’t see any sign of people, but there is definitely someone looking after the walls.” Bert smiled anxiously at the pixie.

“Weird, no one has come out to meet us,” Bell shrugged. “They must have seen us moving through the pass.”

“We better be careful here,” Bert said quietly. “We can’t exactly run this place over to get away.”

“We only did that once,” Bell grinned at him.

Bert chuckled. “Let’s find a nice parking spot a bit back from the walls.”

“Okay!” Bell buzzed back towards the Waystation as Bert climbed back into the Express.

“Here goes nothing,” Bert could not help but smile. Who knew what they would find in there… it was fun and terrifying at the same time.

He was having difficulty feeling the fear, however. The recent incident with his wife’s ghost, image, or whatever that had been made him miss her all the more.

Reed, Lowes, and the rest had a hundred questions he had no answers for. He had learned that such things were not common in this world but not unheard of either. Still, it didn’t change the fact that even such a small glimpse of her made the pain fresher than it had been in a while.

As the Hudson Express moved out of the gorge and onto the ring of dead earth, his skin prickled uncomfortably, and his hair seemed to stand on end. He halted briefly, looking suspiciously around for any threat… seeing nothing.

The Waystation had just cleared the gorge when the gong over the gatehouse rang out sharply. Frowning, Bert turned the Express and drove back to it; he had been keeping a few hundred meters ahead to ensure there were no traps.

“What’s up?” Bert called out the window to Bud as he leaned over the parapet above the gatehouse.

“I saw movement on the walls!” Bud called down excitedly. “Bell said to call you, and then we will have a look from the tower.

“On my way!” Bert waved and climbed out of the Express, changing his prosthetic to a grappling hook and firing it up to the parapet; he pulled himself up and over. “Let’s go!”

Bert and Bud hurried over to the tower and up to the giant, circular control room at the top. They had a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view around the Waystation through the massive crystal windows.

Bell was fluttering to and fro in front of the area facing the walls. Bud and Bert joined her as they all strained to see anything moving.

“There!” Bud pointed.

“I see it!” Bell said.

The three of them stood and strained, watching distant figures scrambling along the walls; they kept low and moved from one cover to the next, occasionally stopping to glance over the wall. Bert repeatedly tried to Analyze the figures, but they were too far away.

“We need to get closer,” Bert muttered.

“Okay!” Bell said brightly, and the Waystation began to roll forward.

“WAIT!” Bud and Bert yelled at the same time.

“What?” Bell asked, looking around in frustration.

“My Express is parked down there!” Bert grumbled.

“Ah, oops.” Bell giggled. “Is it still there?”

“Yes,” Bert grumbled as he stalked over to the platform.

“Well, don’t leave your toys lying around,” Bell giggled as he descended.

Ten minutes later, Bert was driving the Express alongside the Waystation as it slowly crawled along the cracked road. Bert had no idea why Bell was actually following the road, other than she liked the noise a road made as the giant treads tore it up. Knowing Bell, that was enough reason.

The gong sounded again as they came to another winding turn in the road. Bert climbed out of the Express and headed back up the tower.

“I knew it was zombies!” Bell proclaimed proudly as the platform clicked into place.

“Zombies?” Bert asked.

“Yup, the dead people type of zombie.” Bell beamed. “Just like the rumors said it would be.”

“They didn’t look very zombie-like when they moved on the walls earlier,” Bert noted.

“Don’t care,” Bell giggled. “A zombie is what we saw.”

Bell waved him over to the window and pointed. From the tower’s height, they could just about see over the lower areas of the wall. As Bert watched, a pale, emaciated head rose cautiously over the bronze decoration.

Zombie Guard lvl 18

Undead

Curse of Sentience.

“Curse of sentience?” Bert asked curiously.

“Don’t change the subject!” Bell snapped. “Admit I was right.”

“You were right,” Bert said happily. “I never actually said you wouldn’t be.”

“Your face did.” Bell giggled.

“It is a talkative face.” Bert smiled. “So, what do we do?”

“I’m thinking maybe a scoreboard in the Bear’s Fall,” Bell said thoughtfully. “We can mark down all the times I am right, and all the times you are wrong!”

“I meant about the zombies,” Bert chuckled.

“Get the gate open, re-kill them all, and then loot the place down to the bare stone!” Bell cheered her own idea.

“You know, one day we will get somewhere you won’t be able to destroy everything,” Bert sighed.

“But not today!” Bell giggled again.

The hands rose one after another as the group voted. Ultimately, everyone favored approaching the city and trying to get inside, despite the dangers. Bell was sulking in the corner as she felt there was no need for a vote. She wanted to go, so they were going.

Bert tried to explain the concept of giving people a choice to leave if they didn’t want to do something. Bell countered by reminding him that she had found a way around that. Bert did not need to be reminded about the pile of corpses behind the original Waystation.

Bert gave up. There was something about letting people do their own thing that Bell just could not understand. As far as she was concerned, they were part of the Waystation and therefore were her’s.

End of discussion.

Skipping the inevitable and oft-repeated argument, Bert and Bell brought the Waystation to a spot near the massive bronze gates and began to set up. As the drawbridge dropped onto the ground, the bronze gates gave a loud creak and slowly opened, just a crack.

A single figure, using a walking stick, made its way slowly toward the Waystation.

Bert, Bell, and the others went out to meet it.

As the figure got closer, they saw more detail. The man seemed elderly, with hunched shoulders and one hand leaning hard on his cane.

He was also, quite clearly, dead.

One empty socket and a bit of skull showed through a pale, wrinkled face. The old zombie stopped a few meters away from Bert and gazed at them all with his one milky eye. Despite his desiccated form, he was dressed very smartly in a clean white shirt under a smooth leather waistcoat in a pale blue. His trousers were similarly clean and even held a sharp crease. His feet, however, were bare. Skeletal toes stuck out from under the cuffs of the trousers.

“Can we not do this?” The creaky old voice asked with evident irritation in his tone.

“Um, do what?” Bert asked.

“You attacking the city.” A frown at the assembled group. “Just because we are dead doesn’t make us monsters, no matter what some church tells you.”

“So, this may seem rude, but….” Bert trailed off, realizing there was no good way to ask if they were mindless murder machines.

“I do not eat people, young man,” The old zombie gave Bert a withering glare. “I may be dead, but I assure you, I remember my manners.” The old man waved an arm at the city. “And neither do any of the good people in this city. We can not help being dead.”

“What do you eat, if you don’t mind me asking,” Bert said thoughtfully.

“How is that any of your business.” The man said stiffly.

“Well, we need to know what to serve,” Bert grinned.

“What?” The old zombie looked uncertain for the first time.

“Well, Mr…?” Bert commented in a friendly tone.

“Barlay. Barlay Egbert the Last.” The old man said automatically.

“Mr. Barlay, if, as you say, this is a city of good people, then I see no reason not to do business here.” Bert beamed. “May I present to yourself and your good people our Waystation?” He bowed and gestured to the Waystation behind him.

“What?” The old zombie looked thoroughly confused. “You’re not going to attack.”

“No, why?” Bert asked, smiling broadly.

“We-we’re dead.” Mr. Barlay said, “You’re living. You kill the undead.” He scratched his head. “I’m sorry; I think I may have lost the thread of the conversation here.”

“He does that,” Bell giggled. “Let me try. We are the operators, guests, and staff of this Waystation. We offer a wide range of food, drink, lodging, and other services.”

“I’m sorry, this is just not what we expected,” Barlay said weakly. “I feel I might need to sit down for a moment.”

“Well, Eggie. May I call you Eggie?” Bert asked as he put an arm around the old zombie’s shoulders.

“I suppose,” The old man said weakly.

“Thanks, Eggie. I’m Bert, and my partner Bell is the flying lady over there. Why not come in and have a seat.”

“If it would be no bother,” Barlay said uncertainly.

“None at all, mate.” Bert smiled, “It is pretty much what we do in a nutshell.”

“Nutshell?” Barlay asked.

“Nevermind, Eggie.” Bert led the Zombie up the drawbridge and into the Waystation.

The old zombie sipped at the ice-cold water and looked nervously around the Bear’s Fall. Bert sat across from him and sipped his own glass. Occasionally he smiled reassuringly.

Eventually, the old man broke the silence.

“This is not how this was supposed to go at all!” He exclaimed suddenly, “After all these years… I’m sorry I made a right old fool of myself out there.”

“Eggie, forget about it,” Bert said soothingly. “You would be surprised by people’s reactions to our motley crew.” Bert grinned. “I would actually call this one of our more successful first contacts with a new town or city.”

“Really?” The old man looked hopeful.

“Certainly!” Bert beamed, “May I ask what you expected to happen?”

“Hah! Death, death is what I was expecting.” He chuckled bitterly. “It was my turn, you see.” He looked at their bemused faces. “You are not here to try and kill us, are you?”

“No,” Bell said brightly, “Bert’s got some weird thing against killing sentient creatures if he can avoid it.” She giggled. “He won’t even eat most of them.”

“Oh, you should not eat anything sentient,” The old man said, “That is such an uncouth thing to do. Positively bad-mannered.”

“See, he gets it!” Bert said happily.

“Happy you found a friend,” Bell stuck her tongue out at him, making the old man laugh.

“Our people were made into undead a long time ago; we are not sure how.” The old man continued, “At first, we were all mindless savage creatures. All except one, who was a mage before their death. They worked a curse, returning our senses to us. Those were difficult days.” Barlay shook his head, “Many of us wished he never did. It is a big adjustment, being undead. In time, however, we made peace with our natures and continued on. Until the first people came to loot our city.”

Bert and Bell exchanged a guilty look.

“We tried to explain that we were ourselves, but they ignored us. They called us monsters and ran screaming into the distance. Now, occasionally, a group from the Holy Church of Purity or some other order comes and tries to ‘cleanse us.’ It is unpleasant to deal with. So we repaired the walls and kept the gate closed. Now, when someone comes, one of us goes out to explain.” Barlay shrugged. “They are all killed or captured. Then the group attacks our walls until they die or get bored.” The old zombie hung his head, “Today was my turn to go out and be killed or worse. To save those left behind.”

“Well, that won’t be necessary, mate.” Bert smiled and patted his hand. “How about a snack?”

“A snack?” Barlay cheered up. “That would be nice, thank you.”

“Great, but what does an undead eat? Is it different from living people's food or?” Bert asked.

“That is the problem part,” Barlay grimaced, “We require food with a high death energy… which is extremely rare, or living food.” He winced and cringed as if waiting to be struck.

“Hmmm. I’m not sure we have much in the way of living food.” Bell said thoughtfully.

“What about Scruff’s things?” Bert said.

“Oooh, maybe,” Bell said.

=============

“This, this is a garden of-of-of wonders!” Barlay exclaimed.

“Take your word for that, eye of the beholder an’ all that,” Bert laughed.

“Oy!” Scruff shoved Bert, “My stuff is a fucking wonder like the gent said.”

Bert watched the old man tottering between the rows of death-based plants, berries, shrubs, and trees like a kid in a candy store.

“Hey, mister zombie guy!” Scruff called, making Bert wince, “Try these.” She handed him a few blood berries, “They are not death energy, but they are full of life energy.” She shrugged. “Might be as good as live food.”

The old zombie gingerly crushed the first one between his teeth before gulping the rest down in a single swallow.

“You are a genius! An absolute genius!” The old man danced for joy. “I had almost forgotten the taste of vegetables, let alone fruit!”

Scruff beamed at the praise.

“Aw, it was nothing, really!” She blushed.

“Young lady,” The old zombie said sternly, “When someone my age declares you a genius, accept it.”

“Yes, sir.” She beamed even wider.

Bert chuckled. He watched Scruff show the old man some of her more notable projects, including a few that the old zombie declared to be masterpieces of horticulture. He did note that some of them would be instantly fatal if eaten by anything other than undead. As the little tour finished, Barlay had eaten so many samples his belly was as round as a bowling ball. Scruff got him a chair and let him sit down to rest.

“I must ask, maybe could we perhaps buy some of this fabulous produce and perhaps a few seeds?” He asked Bert.

“That’s up to Scruff,” Bert said, “It’s her work, after all.”

“Sure,” Scruff was still beaming, “I may have to show your farmers how to grow it first, though.”

“Any price you ask, we shall pay,” The old zombie said fervently.

“Well,” She looked at Bert.

“All your decision,” Bert said.

“How about a trade, like a few seeds, maybe a bit of time with your farmers?” She said.

“That would be the least we can do,” Barlay bowed. “Consider that a gift. But what of the price for these works of genius?”

“Umm, well, I might get in trouble, but….” She came over and whispered in Bert’s ear. He smiled and nodded. “Nothing.”

“Pardon,” Barlay almost fell out of his chair, “But, but, but….”

“Look, Mr. Zombie,” Scruff sighed, “I was in a tough spot before I got here. Seems you are in a tough spot now. So I figure I should do the same since this lot got me out of that spot for nothing.” Scruff explained how she ended up on the Waystation and what had happened since then. Her version of events was… dramatic.

The old Zombie waved goodbye an hour later as he tottered off down the drawbridge. He had promised to relay their offer to the city and bring a few more out later that evening for a quiet dinner.

Bert was quite looking forward to it.