“My name is Christopher. I just arrived here. You’ve been very unwell, Carol,”—He touched her forehead with the back of his hand—“but I think you’re on the mend.”
She nodded, as if suddenly remembering herself how ill she had been. “I remember being hot,” she muttered. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You have Typhoid Fever, but your temperature has come down a lot. Your body has fought it off, but you’ll need lots of rest to avoid complications. Come with me, away from all this pandemonium.”
She allowed him to take her by arm and guide her towards the steps of the cabin. He sat her down next to Nathan, and the two said hello. They obviously knew one another, but Nathan showed no surprise at Carol suddenly being back on her feet. He promptly resumed staring across the lake.
Kamiyo turned to help the next person, but before he made it two steps, Carol called after him. “Did Bray have Typhoid Fever too?”
Kamiyo turned back, frowning. “Yes, why?”
Carol swallowed, and it seemed like an effort. She took a moment to get her mouth moving again. “When I woke up on the grass, Michael and Bray were lying next to me. Bray was dead. Philip must be devastated.”
Kamiyo jolted. “What?”
“Bray is dead.”
Kamiyo turned and ran.
At the shaded area next to the lake, a trembling silhouette hunched over an inert shadow—Philip sobbing over his son’s body. Kamiyo knelt beside the father, checking Bray for a pulse. There was none. The boy’s body already cooled.
“What happened?” Philip demanded through his tears.
Kamiyo put a hand on his back. “I’m sorry. Bray must have gone into convulsions due to his fever.”
“You said he would get better!”
“I hoped he would. These conditions… Nothing is certain, Philip. I’m so sorry.”
Philip turned to face Kamiyo. Snot and tears caked his face. “I wasn’t here with him when he died. The demons attacked and I…” He broke into sobs.
“We had a fight on our hands.”
“If the demons hadn’t come, you might have done something. You could have saved him.”
Kamiyo doubted it. He had hoped bringing the boy outside would have been enough, but perhaps he should’ve submerged Bray in the lake. “I don’t know if I could have done anything. He needed medicine—antibiotics.”
Philip sobbed into his hands. “We’re all going to die in this godforsaken forest. I didn’t think the demons were real, but they are, aren’t they? They’re going to kill us all.”
Kamiyo wished he could offer words of comfort, but the man likely had the truth of it. So he checked on Michael instead—the last remaining patient. The boy’s temperature had dropped just like Carol’s. He, too, had fought off the infection.
Bray was an unlucky statistic.
15
CALIGULA
Caligula sat on a pile of bodies assembled from a small group of humans his troops had plucked from a farmhouse. The foolish worms had been raising chickens and growing crops, naïve enough to think they had a future. His troops had tortured them for hours before finally slaughtering them, starting with the youngest so that the adults could watch.
Now his troops were resting. He released his psychic grip on their freewill for a while so he might clear his mind and recuperate. Even the damned needed respite, for it was only the brief moments of tranquillity that made damnation so complete.
And it was during these brief moments of rest that Caligula revelled in his past glories and basked in the anticipation of future glories ahead. His would be the Earth’s final, lasting empire. The southern human army may have crushed the Fallen, but they would not crush the mighty god Caligula. When the humans from the south travelled north to reclaim their lands, they would dash themselves against the most terrifying army in the history. With Caligula as its triumphant general. The Red Lord would have no choice but to consider him an equal.
Rux shambled towards him now, eyes pointed at the ground. As always, the sight of the pathetic Gaul caused anger, and Caligula had to fight the urge to pummell the wretched creature into dust. “What is it, slave?”
Rux dared make eye-contact. “The Germanic Guard have carried out your orders, Imperator. Several cohorts have been sent to retrieve the splinters of our broken southern legions. Their numbers shall be added to our own. Your scouts report that many scattered when the Fallen were defeated.”
Caligula snarled. “You do not speak of the Fallen, slave. They are exalted even in death.”
“Yes, yes, Imperator! I prostrate myself before you.”
Caligula kicked the slave, but there was little passion in the act. “Begone!”
“Yes, Imperator, but…”
Caligula roared. “What is it?”
“The troops suffer confusion. They hear the voice of the Red Lord no more. Hell echoes empty. We… fear. We fear, Imperator.”
Caligula struck Rux across the face, denting his cheek. “The Red Lord’s will is not your concern. You follow only my command. The wishes of the Red Lord are for my understanding alone.”
“Yes, Imperator, it is just…”
Caligula struck the demon again, sending it rolling in the dirt. “Silence, before I crush your eyes into sludge.”
“The brother’s feel!” Rux cried out insolently, almost in anger. How dare this wretched slave shout at him, a god on earth? But what the demon said gave Caligula pause. Sensing he wasn’t about to be struck again, Rux regained his feet. “We feel, Imperator. The Red Lord has abandoned our thoughts, and instead we… we have maggots in our brains, worms in our minds. What is it we see? What is it we… feel?”
Caligula rubbed a lump in his emaciated and ulcerated throat. “What do you speak of, slave?”
Rux trembled and clutched his head. “It hurts, master. Make it stop!”
“I am not your master. I am your Imperator. Your god. You feel nothing, slave. You are flesh and obedience, and nothing else.” Caligula pounced on Rux, his eight-foot frame crushing the five-foot slave against the ground. He beat the lowly creature for an hour until there was barely anything left. Then he rose up and looked upon his
