Major Ken Thorton liked being big. He enjoyed the looks he received when he addressed other men. Those wishing to be like him or to be liked by him. Some people would have been happy to just be as tall or as broad, but Ken loved being both. He saw his size as a tool to be used on an unwilling world, to shape that world into a place more suited to his needs. At six foot five, with plenty of muscle packed on his arms and chest, he had plenty of tools to work with.
Before the Upheaval, he worked as a security guard for Reno Airport, watching people all day and thinking about what he’d like to do so some of them that looked crossways at him. He had a lot of time to think and spent a good deal of time thinking about what a perfect world he could create for himself if only given the chance. He had often talked about his ideas with select few like-minded individuals, but nothing ever came from the conversations. Ken Thorton was a bully and bruiser, but he was smart enough not to attract the attention of local law enforcement. He often boasted about what he would do to any cop that tried to come for him, but in truth Ken was a coward. He was brave when he held the upper hand and he did everything in his power to make sure he kept that hand. He was openly contemptuous of anyone he perceived as being better than he and anyone he perceived as a threat to his image was utterly destroyed.
So when the Upheaval came, most people thought of it as the end of the world. Ken realized that it was his one chance to create his own. He had often claimed he had been a soldier, but avoided conversations with real military personnel. With most of them dead, Ken found it the perfect opportunity to be that which he had always claimed to be. He chose the rank of Major, figuring that he couldn’t claim higher because people wouldn’t believe him. He had outfitted himself in military clothing and set out into the undead world.
Thorton managed to recruit a few unsavory individuals into his band. Ted Tamikara, a twenty-five year old former computer programmer, was Thorton’s Captain and right hand man. Ken had rescued Ted from his little apartment in Reno, swinging a makeshift club like a lawnmower blade and hurling ghouls left and right with smashed skulls. Thorton quickly realized that Ted was of a like mind when it came to their fellow man and the two set off to remake their world.
Ted didn’t mind being second to Thorton. At five foot six, he was no match for Ken physically, but his agile mind more than made up for what he lacked in physical stature. Ted also had a cruel streak which suited Ken’s needs as well. Captain Tamikara was not a man to cross, not without rear view mirrors installed in your head. When Thorton and Tamikara were moving from place to place, Thorton got a clear view as to how his new friend operated. The pair had come across a young couple hiding in a small house. Tamikara quietly asked the young man if he was armed. When the man said no, Ted casually shot him dead. Tamikara then assaulted the new widow, taking what he considered as a ‘spoil of war’. Ken didn’t object in the least, only insisted on having his turn with the woman. After they had finished their fun, Ken stuck his knife in the poor woman’s chest. It was the first living person he had killed and he thoroughly enjoyed the look on his victim’s face when the knife slid in. Ted watched with approval and from that moment on, the Major and the Captain were on the same page.
They took what they wanted, recruiting more members. Ken established his base of operations in the ghost town of Bodie, California. He had been there once and remembered it was a defensible place, isolated, with a supply of water and land for subsistence. It was close enough to make raids into several neighboring communities and Thorton used the old mining complex as his personal fortress. There were many buildings still standing and it worked well to serve as a place for families to move into for a modicum of relative safety.
That was the lure. Major Thorton would travel with his band of men, offering a place to stay and passing themselves off as the last of the military of the United States. When the people agreed, and many of them readily did, they were brought into the town and given a home. After they had been taken in, the families would realize their mistake. Women disappeared for days on end, returned to their husbands with broken spirits and bruises. Husbands who complained were immediately beaten, some severely. Children, especially young girls between the ages of twelve and sixteen, were taken from their families to the ‘fortress’. Young boys were sent to work on another part of the property, making sure their parents stayed in line. The youngest children stayed with their parents, but were used for coercion as needed.
Major Ken Thorton not only was a bully, a brute, and a murderer, but he was also a molester. In his warped mind he believed he was owed the pleasure of the little ones and he preferred the fear he caused in them as to the disdain and contempt of the older women.
Such was the world as Ken saw it as he surveyed his little kingdom. In truth, that was what it was. He ruled over the lives of the three hundred people who were luckless enough to fall into his trap, and he ruled over the lives of the seventy-plus men he had in his little ‘army’. Over the course of the next six months of the Upheaval, while the world reeled from the attacks of the undead, Thorton managed to recruit individuals to his cause, each one having the prerequisite of extremely low morals and dubious ethics. Those who showed intelligence or potential were ‘promoted’ within the ranks.
Thorton was smart enough to realize he would need overwhelming force to ensure there would be no rebellion from his population, so after raiding a military surplus store for uniforms and supplies, Thorton set out arming his men with military weapons. Ft. Laramondo was the nearest source and after leading thirty men to the post, managed to eliminate the zombies and secure the weapons left behind when the fort had been overrun.
With his new found wealth, Thorton had increased his area of operations and brought more people into the fold. He even had criteria for new recruits. Anyone surviving alone was included and anyone willing to kill a survivor, especially an annoying husband complaining about his wife being abused, was a shoe-in.
Dissent among the ranks was dealt with by the captain and complainers never received a warning, just a bullet or knife in the back. Word spread quickly and the complaints fell to zero.
In the general population, complaints were few since they were usually followed by a beating or a killing, but they persisted. Even now, two years after the Upheaval, people, especially new survivors, lured in by the fake military, brought up the fact that their rights were being violated. It was a common complaint and Major Thorton was becoming tired of it. Rights, he thought, what do these idiots care about rights? The major contemplated this as he stood naked before his window and looked out of his suite. He could see the town from his perch, a ramshackle ghost town re-populated back into existence. Bodie, California had been abandoned in the 1940’s, declared a historic site in the 1960’s, and served as a tourist attraction until the dead rose. Now it was a town again, tucked away from the world and isolated by geography. Hills surrounded the town, providing a natural defense, and Thorton had enough men to provide reasonable security should the odd zombie make its way to the town.
But security was an illusory thing for the hapless population of Bodie. If the zombies ever discovered the place in force and attacked en masse, the standing plan was to cut and run, not stand and fight. To hell with the helpless citizens. Major Thorton figured when the zombies were busy killing the townsfolk, he and his men could escape.
“Rights.” Ken said the word aloud, startling the small form huddled on his bed. A tousled head peeked out from under the covers as Ken continued his reverie. “Rights. How dare they assume they have rights? When the world ended so did any notion of rights.” Thorton spat the word. “These morons live because it amuses me. They die because they serve no use.” End them, end their rights, he thought.
End their rights. A seed of thought planted itself in his mind, growing quickly. End their rights, destroy the source. Ken considered this as he stared at his thralls trudging from the work fields or to and from the saw mill and wells. Destroy the source, he thought, then he started to chuckle, an ugly sound deep in his chest. Thorton’s twisted mind burned with the logic of his reasoning. The logistics of his idea be dammed, Ken realized what he wanted to do. It didn’t matter that his thoughts required moving a large number of men across three thousand miles of hostile territory inhabited by rogue bands such as his own, carnivorous zombies, and who knew what else. Ken mulled the thought over again in his head and came to the twisted logic that once he had destroyed the source, he would be in a position to grab ultimate power for himself. Any rational person would think him deluded, but Ken didn’t care about that. Like a petulant child, he was striking out at that which annoyed him and to hell with the consequences.
“So has it been considered, so shall it be done.” Ken said to himself as he returned to his bed. He smiled as he flipped back the covers, revealing the small naked girl huddled on the bed. She knew better than to resist or cry. She had seen what had happened to her predecessor and wanted no part of it.
Ken had a small group of victims held in a cage near the main mine shaft. If he was particularly displeased with a girl, he would just throw her in, listening to her screams as she fell the quarter mile to her death. If a girl fought him, he would lower her slowly down the mine shaft head first, to be devoured slowly by the zombies waiting
