Torres put the mirror down. 'You were always ugly. Hell, I wondered how somebody like you wound up with a hot piece like that Shackleford chick. But now? Damn, you're ugly. About to get uglier too. But don't worry, the High Priest says that you'll hang on long enough to make it to the other side.'
I tried to tune out the pain but it was all-consuming. I had no idea that it hurt this much to turn into a zombie. All I could feel was agony. One part of my body would just hurt, until another part started to hurt worse, and that would briefly take my attention, until the next bit topped it. The traitor continued to drone on. He was really enjoying himself. There were three other men in the room with us. They would occasionally laugh at something Torres said. I fixated on him. I failed to take out Hood because of my stupidity. Trusting Susan… What the hell had I been thinking? Not only was Hood still alive, which meant Earl was doomed, I had also managed to let loose another devil into the world. Maybe I could partially atone for that and somehow take this piece of trash with me.
I forced myself to pay attention to my surroundings. It was a comfortable but plain apartment, probably attached to the back of the mortuary. There was one closed door and a curtained window off to the side. I was in a heavy wooden chair. They had put down a tarp to protect the carpet. My wrists had been tightly bound to the chair arms with orange twine. The cord was frayed, but strong, and had already cut deeply into my flesh. Looking at my hands made me sick. Blood was seeping around my fingernails.
'I will say this for you, Pitt. You're a man after my own heart, somebody who can appreciate the finer things in life. Good-looking women, good-looking guns.' He lifted one of my. 45s. 'Just so you know, I'm keeping your gear. Don't worry. I'll give them a good home.' The others laughed. 'And look what else I've got.' He stuck out his chest. He had pulled the Velcro MHI patch off my armor and pinned it to his robe. The happy face with horns didn't mean much to him, but he knew it did to me. 'I figure I played Monster Hunter long enough to earn this bad boy. Pretty sweet, huh?'
'Screw…' I was too tired to finish the sentence.
'Poor, Pitt. You'll be on the other side, suffering for an eternity. And we'll be here, living like kings, running the new order.'
'The dark new dawn,' said one of the cultists.
'Amen, brother,' Torres replied. 'And we owe it all to Owen Pitt.' He pushed the. 45 into my forehead with a sneer. 'Don't we, you zombie fuck?' He pulled the gun away and snickered. 'Don't want to get a bunch of scabs on my new gun. I want to keep this baby nice. I'll probably use it to put a bullet into some of your friends. We're not done with MHI, oh no. When the sun doesn't rise tomorrow, the payback begins. We clean house, and nothing will be able to stop us.'
'You'll… die… too…' It took a moment for me to register that the horrible scratchy noise was actually my voice. I sounded worse than an orc.
'Unbelievers are already dead, they just don't know it yet. The faithful will live forever.' Torres slouched in his chair, carelessly gesturing with my gun. 'We're not as crazy as you think. The master's one smart dude. Look at me. He's been grooming me for years, knowing that he'd need men in the MCB eventually. I worked hard, got into federal law enforcement. He arranged a monster encounter for me to survive, bam, and next thing you know, I'm one of America's finest.. Don't worry. We're not shutting the sun off. Just blocking it until everyone's ready to fall in line. But it's going to get real cold and people are going to get real hungry before they have the sense to do that.'
'Convert or die,' recited another cultist.
'Holy shadows will engulf the earth. Nations that convert will get to see the light, pardon the pun. Those that don't…' He shrugged. 'Too damn bad for them. We'll animate their starved dead and turn them loose on the survivors. When it's over, we'll build a perfect society from scratch.'
Torres kept talking. He was really enjoying himself. These lunatics were actually going to go through with this. It sounded preposterous, but I had seen the gate that had opened over Alabama. After that, I could believe just about anything. The Old Ones could do it.
I closed my eyes. I just wanted the suffering to end. Maybe if I hurried up and died, then Hood's squid god wouldn't be satisfied with just a zombie. I found myself wishing for death, and death drew even closer, like a black wall. I touched it.
'Poor boy. Hurt to look at,' a familiar voice said. 'It makes an old man's heart hurt to be seeing such pain.'
It took a second to recognize the voice.
'Mordechai?' I whispered.
'What?' Torres asked. When I opened my yellow eyes, Torres was regarding me suspiciously. 'What did you say?'
I ignored him and tried to lift my head higher. 'Mordechai? Is that you?'
It was. Old, bent, leaning on his cane, small glasses perched on his nose, Star of David hanging in front of his battered shirt. He was not young and healthy like the last time I had seen him, but in the form from the time of his death in 1944, just like how I'd gotten to know him originally. He was standing directly behind Torres, between two of the cultists. They didn't appear to notice him.
'Yes, boy, I am here for help,' he said with a slight smile. 'Others felt you need some wisdom. They say, boy very strong, but not always smart. Others can be mean like that.' His Polish accent was as thick as ever.
'But… you moved on… I freed you.'
He shrugged his bony shoulders. 'Eh… what can say? I moved on, but veil is thin for you now. Close enough to death that we can talk so easy. Not exactly a long trip for me to get here! This more important now, so I come back. You need smarts.' He tapped his finger on his temple and smiled. 'I have smarts. You have guns and magic. Should blow up many crazy people together.'
Was he really here? Had he come back to help me again? 'Are you an angel?'
Torres turned back toward his henchmen. 'He's hallucinating. Get the stimulant, now. We can't afford to lose him yet.'
The ghost of Mordechai Byreika lifted his cane. It looked exactly like the one I'd driven through Jaeger's torso. 'This look like flaming sword to you, boy? Of course is not angel. Angels? They're more formal. Kind of, how you say, stuffy. Now listen close. Time is short.'
'Too late.' I tried to show him the bandage on my hand, pulling repeatedly, forgetting that I was tied down. 'Dead… soon.'
Torres took my jerking against the bonds as a seizure. 'Hurry with that potion, damn it!'
'No!' Mordechai admonished sternly. 'You not die yet, boy. More work to do. For something more important than you. Not like this.'
I tried to speak, but the pain was too great. Nobody has ever been bitten by a zombie and lived.
'You are not nobody, boy. You are somebody. You are one picked to finish fight. Good has said you are their champion. Bad's champion is waiting for you. Champion of Good not die because of stupid zombie! That's crazy talk.'
I can't. Dying.
A cultist had removed a vial from his robes. He shoved a syringe into it and began pulling out a thick red liquid. 'Give me that!' Torres ordered as he snatched the syringe away.
'You not die until I say so,' Mordechai insisted. 'Listen to your elders, boy. You have power to fight off zombie bite, just like you fight off werewolf when we met first time.'
That was different. That was something I could fight with my hands. I was never infected by the werewolf.
'Of course not infected, because you are not monster now. You are Monster Hunter. Quit being stubborn and listen. Werewolf can't turn you. Zombie can't turn you. Vampire can't turn you, if stupid enough to get bit by vampire too you are. Regular Hunter, yes, but you? Different you are. You only turn if you give up.'
So I can't die until I give up?
'No, that's just dumb. Turn, not kill. They can kill you just fine. Cut head off or blow up or set on fire, maybe shoot you in face, you die.' He spread his hands as if balancing the scales. 'Sploosh. Dead. Just like everyone else. But you are Chosen. Harder to kill Chosen unless he is being big baby. Certain things only you can do. Old Ones not realize who they're fighting with.'
Torres jammed the huge needle into the nerve bundle between my ear and jaw and slammed the plunger
