Necrocide

Chapter 52

SIX HOURS BEFORE THE OUTBREAK...

There was an unintentional balance in progress and lack of change in England. While Schaefer was busy preparing the country to fight against an enemy only he had seen, his so-called enemies themselves—the Deadmen, as these wandering corpses were now referred to—were hidden away in the long-forgotten facility that once housed the Ambrosia Project.

In those two years following the day Bloodletter led a violent uprising of the undead against Schaefer and his men, the Deadmen were doomed to roam the hallways of the very place they met their unfortunate fates. Aside from Bloodletter and the fanged female Deadman he developed a complicated alliance with, none of them could even remember who killed them or where they were. And if their two superiors tried to share the origins of their grudges with them, they would blow them off and continue munching on the nearest uninfected corpse they could find. In fact, there were hardly any fresh corpses left behind in those two years. The Deadmen had ravaged everything they could get their hands on, to the point only pieces of entrails and mangled chunks of flesh were all that remained.

Bloodletter had to look away after witnessing a horde of Deadmen consume what was left of Artemis. She was the only person in the entire facility kind enough to reunite him with his daughter, yet she died equally as gruesome as her less sympathetic colleagues.

All he ever did in those following two years was sulk over what could've been. He wish he would've retired from the British Army instead of rejoining them so he'd never learn the true meaning of the Ambrosia Project. He hated to admit it, but he felt like keeping Sarah at a distance would've prevented her from getting in harm's way. Hundreds of other self-deprecating thoughts flooded his mind as he spent the rest of his days crouched in a lonely corner of the facility away from the other Deadmen.

Bloodletter didn't need to consume flesh like the other Deadmen did, so he didn't feel like he was missing out on anything by refusing to talk to them. And if they did try to communicate with him, he threatened to kill them. Or rather end their second life since they were technically already dead. He hadn't done it yet, but he wouldn't hesitate to do it. Unless, of course, he encountered Atlas and Hermes again. He still couldn't get used to the fact Atlas's real name was Harry, and he couldn't hold anything against Hermes since he hadn't even seen him in a long time. Plus, after seeing Harry, Bloodletter doubted Hermes would still be going by his assigned alias. But the worst part was the fact Harry died believing he was going to see his little brother again.

Bloodletter couldn't hurt the lad because he died with the same kind of motivation he had. Only this time the roles were reversed, with Harry's little brother presumably alone while Bloodletter is forced to walk alone without his daughter.

But every once in a while, Bloodletter would hear Sarah's voice call out to him. "Daddy?" she always asked. Sometimes she sounded like if she were at the end of a hallway, and other times it was like she was hiding somewhere in the room he was in.

He tried to start conversations with her, but he only felt like he was losing another piece of his mind every time he uttered a word directed at her. It probably wasn't even her. Just a voice in his head. Another burden to carry.

"Shut up," he growled to himself. It hurt a little to say that, but he had to keep reminding himself his daughter was gone.

"I was just wondering why you were crying," Sarah's voice continued.

Bloodletter's eyes widened. He stood up and glanced around the room. He was in a smaller lab compared to the infirmary. Equipment and tools were still in their original places as before, and the only thing that really stood out was a large patch of dry blood stretching out beyond the door, when Bloodletter let the Deadmen feast on the corpse of a scientist who had taken his life to avoid a worse death.