Un2Dead (Book One of the Un2Series)
Chapter Thirty Five

Reese ran to the wall of windows as soon as Jayne removed Wit from the cell. She saw the one-hit-wonder prance forward to pump her husband’s arm and lead him toward an altar that held an ornate piece of armor and a cluster of glistening vials containing unknown fluids. DeLeon’s movements were overblown and highly animated. They reminded Reese of those actors in silent films whose exploits were incredibly overdone in order to compensate for the lack of sound, which was fitting because Reese heard nothing but muffled tones coming through the clear wall between her and the trio in the grotto. Whatever DeLeon said seemed objectionable to Jayne, which pleased Reese. Wit retrieved the armor and was about to put it on Jayne when DeLeon interrupted the process.

Reese sensed the embarrassed little boy Wit became when women’s body parts were exposed before him. She found it endearing how uncomfortable he would become when she would make him take her to that wing joint with the big-boobed waitresses. She saw that same guy trying not to stare but being drawn to look at a really well-defined example of womanhood.

“Bitch.” She thought out loud. “Try having a baby and just see how quickly those puppies drop!”

Reese felt horrible and winced as she noticed that Wit was actually focused on a monstrous mildewed welt. “Sorry,” she said to herself thinking karma may also be listening.

She watched Wit place the armor on Jayne then go about inserting the colored vials into a disc that looked to be the size of the opening in the breastplate that framed that bitch’s cleavage. Reese wasn’t ready to withdraw her claws despite the unfortunate marring of Jayne’s physique. After a minor altercation which appeared to be about how Wit was handling the disc, he inserted it into the forementioned hole and stepped back. Everyone seemed to be expecting something to happen but nothing did. Then a screech rang through the grotto that was so loud it penetrated the cell walls, triggering Reese’s defenses and causing her fangs to drop. Though startled she was relieved to see that her fangs still worked after the abuse she had endured from Jayne. She composed herself as Jayne was jolted upward and remained dangling above Wit, pelting him with a shower of green sparks.

The grotto fell silent as Jayne dropped to the ground. Everyone relaxed as Jayne began to remove the armor. Reese assumed, as did the trio in the grotto, that whatever needed to happen with the breastplate had indeed happened. But Jayne appeared to be struggling with the suit. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Jayne was panicking and trying to pry the armor from her body. Her form convulsed and shifted from amazon goddess to a twisted tree trunk. Reese could see Wit unsuccessfully urging DeLeon to try and do something to save Jayne.

“Don’t be a hero, baby. Please don’t be a hero.” Reese wished that maybe this one time Wit would think with his head before thinking with his heart. She knew it was a wasted wish.

“Danny! No!” Reese screamed as Wit tangled with and was consumed by the force that turned Jayne into a withered hollow carcass.

Reese’s inner creature sprang forth. Eyes wide and black, fangs bared, she pummeled the glass wall before her. The blistered skin on her arms split and smeared the invisible barrier that kept her from reaching her struggling soul mate. Her attempts to free herself were no more successful than a butterfly beating its wings against a Mason jar prison. Her screaming was silenced by DeLeon’s saber shattering Wit’s shoulder. She slid down the window through which she witnessed the end of her world. She pulled her knees tight into her chest.

“Danny,” she whispered.

DeLeon stepped away from the pool of blood working its way from Wit’s shoulder toward his boot. It had been a while since DeLeon had killed anyone. He realized that he missed that feeling of power over another human being. He circled Jayne and squatted in front of her balancing himself against his sword. He removed a strand of hair that hung into her gaping mouth causing it and the patch of scalp it was rooted in to fall to dust.

“Jaynie, Jaynie, Jaynie. Poor little thing. What ever shall I do without you? More importantly, who is going to clean up this mess?”

DeLeon tapped Jayne’s forehead with the hilt of his sword and watched the top of her head collapse into her neck like sand through an hourglass. He braced himself against his sword and grunted as he rose.

“Old people noises.” He thought. “That will be remedied soon.”

He grabbed the breastplate at the neckline just above the medallion and yanked it through Jayne’s remains. The ashy pile toppled into the puddle of Wit’s blood turning into a gruesome sludge.

DeLeon carried the armor over to the table where the cheese tray sat. He propped the breastplate up on a stool so he could admire its brilliance. He nibbled on some cheddar as he took a napkin and wiped a few remaining specks of Jayne away from the channel holding the ingots. He repositioned the stones contained on the left side of the circular design setting them to the year he desired to travel.

“Happy twenty-fifth birthday to me.” He examined his reflection in the surface of the armor and picked a bit of grape from between his teeth.

He removed his robe and replaced it with the armor. He reached back behind his head to find the straps already buckled. The laces on the leather midsection were taught as well. It seemed he wasn’t the only one ready to get this show on the road. He rifled through the pockets of his robe and withdrew a chain of condom packs. He accordion-folded them into a neat little square and shoved them into his pants pocket. He hadn’t survived this long to be undone by the thing in his trousers.

Reese leaned back and rested her head against the wall. She had just lost the man who meant everything to her. She didn’t know if her daughter was dead or alive. She didn’t know if she needed to find the strength to fight or if it was time to just give up. She could see DeLeon readying himself out of the corner of her eye. She half-watched him tip-toe his way through the mangled heaps of flesh, pushing aside stray limbs and such with the blade of his sword. When he reached the center of the compass rose he turned to face the lab. He rolled his head and loosened his shoulders as if he were warming up for a workout. He squarely planted his feet shoulder-width apart and knifed the ground between them with the sword. He posed with one hand on the hilt of the sword and one over the medallion. He rolled his head once more and depressed the emblem to activate the armor.

Reese had seen enough sci-fi movies to expect some sort of cosmic disturbance or temporal rift to engulf DeLeon and transport him mystically to his rebirth. She wanted to see a swirl of wind, a crack of lightning or at very least a column of light. What she saw was darkness. Darkness so complete it stole not only the light but all sound as well. It was cold and empty. It lacked a soul. You could refer to it as black but black has substance. This did not.

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