The Shadow Way Part 2

Mama Johnson hovered overhead with her hair flowing on its own and her body emitting mystic energy. Her face twisted into a sneer and a strange cackle escaped her curled lips. Nearby, more of the Infected sauntered toward them. Acting fast, Papa Abadie tried to contain her with a spell but she began to break through the barriers with her own magic. Creed brought his boot up to defend against an attacking Infected while Alysa mystically created a small tremor to trip up the ones advancing toward her. Meanwhile, Mama Johnson shrieked in rage and drilled into the mystic shield surrounding her.

“Help me hold her,” Abadie shouted to Alysa and Creed. Alysa summoned force-winds to push Mama Johnson toward the ground where tangling vines began to grow. A globe of energy exploded around the priestess, sending both Abadie and Alysa into the air along with a few of the Infected. “Sorry, Priestess,” Creed flipped a table on its side for protection and rushed her from behind. She snarled as she turned, then a mystic bolt blasted the table to splinters which knocked Creed on his back. She then dropped down on top of Creed and the two began to roll along the grass. In the commotion, Alysa wasn’t sure of what was happening but it ended with Creed slamming a fist against Mama Johnson’s temple.

Her unconscious form rolled over and Creed quickly slunk away. Papa Abadie was able to place a spell on her in her unconscious state; a mystic barrier soon covered her prone body.

“Papa Abadie, what is this?,” Alysa asked.

“The Shadow Way,” was all he said as he continued to contain the priestess.

Any remaining bystanders had already escaped and if they were turned, they were either unconscious or left the area to find more victims. Alysa noticed some of the Infected were huddled on the ground nearby, although she couldn’t tell what they were doing. She summoned vines from the ground and began to pull them away and as she did, she saw a body among them that had large chunks eaten out of it. She was sure of the identity but she had to take a closer look and once she did, her fears were realized.

“Miss Gerring,” Alysa knelt over the old woman who now lay dead, “No! God, please!”

“Alysa, it isn’t safe,” Abadie called out to her.

“Creed?,” she turned with tearful eyes in an attempt to find her friend.

It wasn’t long before she caught sight of him in the distance, clutching his hand. At first, the small amount of blood didn’t concern her but once she understood the nature of what was happening around her and Creed’s brief struggle with Mama Johnson, there was another fear realized. He slowly looked up at her, displaying a set of pale eyes, “Alysa…,” he croaked, “Get outta here… now.”

“I got you, Creed,” she pleaded, “We’re gonna be okay.”

“No…”

Creed clenched his eyes as he felt his consciousness slipping into something dark. He knew he didn’t have time to argue and raced to his motorcycle. “Creed, stop!,” Alysa called out but he drove away quickly, swerving wildly as if intoxicated. Alysa knew she had to let him go for the moment and raced back to Abadie who was still restraining Mama Johnson.

“Miss Gerring…,” she began.

“I know,” he answered sadly.

“And Creed…”

“It’s too late for him.”

“What’s happening?,” she asked in a cracked voice.

“Zonbi infestation,” he said as he continued kneeling next to Mama Johnson, “I sense dark magic. I think we’re facing someone who practices the Shadow Way.”

“Shadow Way?”

“A form of necromancy I’ve only heard about until today. There’ve been some Iseda followers who studied it, thinking that life and death can be manipulated however they wish.”

“I think the Iconoclasts are behind this. They threatened me recently,” she explained, indicating the message that had been left at her home days earlier.

“And you’re telling me now?,” Abadie growled.

She choked back tears, “I thought me and Creed could handle it. Or maybe the Commission if it got bad enough.”

“Mr. Creed has been infected,” he snapped, “And if you called your team, how quickly could they get here? They have a ship but the town will be overrun by the time they arrive. We have no time to wait.”

“Can you stop it?”

His tone turned to bitterness, “I need to make sure Mama Johnson doesn’t wake up. A person in her state and with her power could level this entire town. We were lucky earlier.”

“I understand but there’s gotta be a way to stop this.”

He sighed, “As far as I know, the only way to stop it is if you find the necromancer responsible for all this and force him to relent.”

“I’m on it,” she turned and fled, “But first, I gotta check on Creed.”

In the woods, Queen Faith stood over Eleazar as he meditated. “Is it done?,” she asked, which earned her an annoyed glance.

“It’s spreading,” he answered quietly.

“Did we get Alysa Saraki?”

“No but we have other Reformers, including their priestess.”

“Farrell Creed? Did you get him yet?”

“He’s… turning.”

“I thought this was immediate!,” she snapped.

“His will is strong, but don’t worry, it won’t be much longer.”

“When he turns, bring him to the barn,” Queen Faith smiled, “I have something special planned.”

Creed had laid down his bike a few blocks away due to tunnel vision. He surmised his narrowing senses were the cause of his subdued consciousness. He felt his mind receding as if he was sitting in the backseat of a car, waiting for the driver. His last few coherent thoughts were of his mother and Alysa. He thought about Cassandra and his friend, Pete Bone Splitter. He couldn’t fail them. He tried his best to hold on but his mind was soon clouded over.

Three police cars pulled up with lights and sirens going off. Chief of Police Charles Meyer stepped out along with a team of officers. “Creed?,” he called out, “Hey, what the hell is going on out here? We heard there was-” Suddenly, Creed spun around with an unholy snarl while barring his teeth. “Holy shit!,” Meyer shouted as he drew his firearm with his officers following suit. Creed closed the distance with speed and savagery. The closest officer tried to fire a round but his gun-hand was brushed aside and he was quickly hurled over the hood of the police cruiser. The next officer fired a shot into the ground due to Creed snatching him by the arm; he was thrown against the rear passenger window a second later. With Creed positioned between the officers, it was now more difficult to fire a shot as they were afraid of hitting each other. Trying to reposition themselves was fruitless as well. Creed was seemingly mindless but his movements were precise, if violent. He lifted a man over his head and brought him down on top of the final officer, taking them both out of the fight. Another round went off and that one tore through the fleshy part of Creed’s back, just above the hip bone.

Meyer stood firm with his gun raised. It was a flesh wound meant to disable but Creed simply dropped to one knee and gave another growl. “I don’t wanna have to do it, Creed!,” Meyer shouted his orders, “Stand down!” Creed launched himself into the air and, because of the angle, the next shot grazed his chest, cutting a bloody streak down his jacket but doing little serious harm. Meyer was tackled to the ground and in an instant, the gun was removed and his arms were pinned above his head. He began to panic as he felt every newton of force in Creed’s muscles. Wet jaws opened and a set of teeth came within an inch of his face before something pulled him away.

Alysa telekinetically threw Creed to the other side of the street and Meyer composed himself as he stood up and retrieved his gun. “Alysa, tell me what happened to him!,” he barked, “What’s happened to everyone!” She ignored him as she reached into her pocket and took out a handful of dirt. Creed let out an eerie roar as he made another lunge but the handful of dirt had been cast already. In an instant, it swirled around him and hardened into dried mud, quickly increasing size until it covered him completely. The large mass dropped to the ground and they could hear Creed trying to burst his way out from inside.

“It won’t hold ‘im long,” Alysa warned.

“Yeah, well, in the meantime, tell me what’s going on!,” Meyer demanded, “He just kicked the shit out of me and my guys and we’ve been getting calls about everyone going nuts.”

“I’ll tell ya later…,” she made sure to add the next part, “… sir.”

“No, you’re gonna tell me now. I don’t care if you’re on a team with the Cavalier and whoever else. I’m Chief of Police, for God’s sake!”

“It’s magic shit, okay?,” she shouted in frustration, “People in my temple are… zombies, I guess. Creed too! And I’m try’n to find ways to stop it!”

In the woods, Eleazar rose to his feet with a curious look. Faith noticed his concern, “Is something wrong?”

“Mr. Creed has been restrained by Ms. Saraki.”

“Get him to the barn! Ignore everything else for now.”

Back in the town, Meyer and Alysa continued to argue. “I’m putting him in a cell until all this is over,” Meyers said angrily.

“You know how dangerous that is? You know what he can do while he’s in control. But now- ”

“I’m not taking orders from you! Get outta here, now!”

Creed finally put a fist through the brown mass holding him. He slowly emerged, but was no longer growling; he was on a mission and there was nothing that would stand in his way. Meyer raised his firearm once more but suddenly found it hot to the touch – hot enough that he was forced to drop it. Once he was disarmed, he turned and glared at Alysa who gave an innocent shrug. Creed ignored his previous targets for the moment and leapt back onto his motorcycle. “Stop him!,” Meyer shouted but before either of them could make a move, he was already gone.

“I gotta get my guys outta here,” Meyer thrusted a finger at Alysa, “Then we’re gonna take care of this situation on our own! If that guy hurts anyone, it’s on you!”

“I know,” she replied guilt-ridden.

At Pete’s Shop, Pete Bone Splitter and his wife Lucille were busy boarding up the doors and windows after hearing of what was happening downtown. As Lucille nailed a board into a wall, a deranged face suddenly appeared in the window, startling her.

At Stagger Lee’s, Cassandra and her bouncer Brett had just arrived to set up the bar. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the sunlight. “Sorry, ain’t open yet,” Cassandra called out cheerfully. The figure rushed into the room, pale-eyed and with jaws agape.

At the Winghaven Museum, Gus Davidson was busy cleaning the glass of a display when he heard commotion outside. He curiously poked his head out the door and saw a horde of the Infected chasing citizens and making their way to his museum.

Likewise, Mary Creed stopped doing dishes when she heard strange sounds outside. She curiously turned off the water to listen better at what sounded like a knock at the door. Once that happened, she realized the knock was much louder and more erratic than she expected. Then came the sound of more hands violently hitting the door.

Around the same time, Creed arrived at an old barn near railroad tracks that were only slightly newer. In his infected state, he stopped his bike and let it tip over onto the ground instead of using the kick-stand. He stomped over the tall grass and entered through the creaky door. There, Queen Faith and Eleazar waited for him alongside another figure. While Queen Faith did not advertise her alliance with Eleazar, she let a few of her most trusted acolytes know what was happening. One of them acted as the Catalyst to the infestation and the other was a scholar stationed in the barn. He was an older man with a gray beard and tattoos from a life before he joined the Iconoclasts. He was chosen to be there specifically because of what was going to come next. Once Creed entered the barn, he stood still, waiting for his master to make a command.

There were vague ideas of what had transpired but only flashes of images. In some part of his psyche, he understood Alysa had confronted him and hoped she wasn’t hurt. Another part of him knew that he finally became what people always said he was: a violent beast, just like his father.

“That’s him,” Queen Faith sneered and approached. Once she got close, she reached out and began to caress his face mockingly, “He’s aware of everything, you say, correct?”

“Sight, sound, and physical sensations,” Eleazar explained, “He knows everything that’s happening… as much as he can in this condition.”

“Good,” she caressed his cheek and ran the tip of her finger across his open eye. Since he was no longer in control of his body, he couldn’t even blink while her finger slid across his pupil. “Perhaps I should take an eye for the one he stole from me,” she pressed her palm over one eye as if it were a patch, “… But then, I want him to see everything that will happen to him here. I want him to be fully aware across all senses. Every moment of pain. Every drop of blood.” She turned toward the Scholar, “This is your area of expertise. I want him punished. I want him cognizant of his sins. The pain and suffering he feels tonight should be so severe it carries over into the next life.”

The Scholar bowed his head slightly, “It’ll be done, Queen.”

At Stagger Lee’s, Cassandra slammed the butt of her shotgun across the face of an advancing Infected while Brett took his bat to two more. She broke a beer bottle over the head of the final Infected and caught her breath. “You okay?,” she asked Brett. “I’m fine,” he showed her the mark on his forearm, “Just a little bite.” Cassandra nodded in satisfaction and turned her back to call Creed. “I dunno what’s going on,” she told Brett as she listened to the phone ring, “But I know Creed’s on top if it.” She waited impatiently for him to pick up and when it went to voice mail, she shoved her phone back in her pocket in a combination of fear and frustration, “Where the hell is he?” She turned back around to speak to Brett and was startled by the sight of pale eyes and gnashing teeth.

A second later, a telekinetic push sent Brett into a stack of chairs on a table which toppled over on him. Alysa stood in the doorway, surveying the area for anymore Infected. “Alysa, what the hell?,” Cassandra hugged her tightly, “Tell me you have answers, darl’n.”

“I’ll tell ya on the way,” Alysa pulled her out to the parking lot, “I know Creed would want me to get you and his mom to safety first. I hope you know where she lives.”

“I do but…,” a worried look crossed Cassandra’s face, “Where’s Farrell?”

The Scholar carefully laid out a velvet cloth across an old bench, revealing hundreds of small needles. As a scholar, his area of spiritual expertise was the human body. He was a medicine man who could often spot an ailment and focus on the exact source of pain or discomfort to remedy it. Conversely, it made him an expert in pain as well. He knew every nerve center, every pressure point, and every area in which a person was most susceptible to sensitivity. Moreover, he knew how to cause massive amounts of pain while still ensuring a victim lives through the experience. Creed was left standing in the middle of the barn while the Scholar picked up the first set of needles. Slowly, he slid each one under his fingernails. Creed couldn’t scream, but he felt every one of the needles.

Continued…