This is my Terror Tuesday tale. More will be explained this week. And Ed . . .poor Ed will go through more agony!
The Mists Of Papoose Pond
Chapter Twenty One
Oh, oh! The wailing doesn't bode well for my plan. Are the Zombie souls not going to join our army in the battle against Satan after all? Are they so afraid of Him that they will buckle under and not fight on our side?
My webbed compatriots show no concern over what is happening, even though the mass of recently destroyed Zombies surrounds us. I stand firm. Shit! It's time to sink or swim. No turning back for us.
There is much anguish from the Zombie souls as the demons of their evil pasts are shed and dropped, The fact they are truly dead and without a physical form at all not stopping them from suffering the emotional tug of war tearing their spiritual remains asunder.
Damn! I hadn't expected this! The Zombie souls are torn in two: one side wanting to fight with us and not being absorbed back into the clutches of the Fallen Angel, and the other part still filled with demonic evil, wanting to remain with the power of the Dark. Before I have a chance to react to this twist, the Zombies themselves come up with a solution and start stomping on their discarded past, grinding their history into dust at their feet. One by one, the vanquished become our allies, ready to do whatever has to be done.
"Holy shit!" Tom says. "I saw it, but I don't believe it."
"What can they do for us?" Louise asks. "They are mere spirits now. What powers do they have?"
"Physically, they can't really do anything," I say, "but mentally . . .mentally they have stronger powers than their physical brethren do. Because their weakened bodies no longer hold them back, they have only to worry about their spiritual side."
"Which means?" Tom asks.
I laugh. "Which means they can do to the living, physical undead what our webbed friends do."
"Mind control!" Tom says. "They'll turn it against Satan's fresh troops. They'll confuse them as our friends confused their Master when we were inside Hell."
Louise stares at me. "Okay, sweetie, that's all well and good, but not all the Zombies will come over to our side. Some will be too afraid, still not knowing what their Dark Lord wants from them if they become ash, too."
"That's true,"I say. "What then, do you think?"
Tom stares at the horde ahead of him, the mist starting to dissipate, our visual connection with them leaving. "I think it won't be the Zombies we have to worry about at that point."
Louise stares at her father. "People. Living people. Are you worried about them?"
"Yes, Louise. How can we tell who is who? Some of the Army we recruit from among the living will be turncoats, already working for Satan, or on his side without knowing it, looking for a sign, perhaps finding it when the Zombie souls unable to shed their evil baggage speak to them, telling them their Master is ready for them to join His side."
"Damn it, Dad! Is there no end to this? We kill the Zombies, but their souls remain, not physically able to attack us but some of them wanting to recruit physical beings who can do what they no longer can. We can't trust the dead or the living, or the undead. Shit!"
This is a vicious circle. However, we still have our biggest allies, and they can tell who we can trust and who we can't. I have no idea how many of them are on the planet, or even in this particular area. They are able warriors and far more intelligent than we are, though.
We need to protect each other. They have their strengths and we have ours. A symbionic relationship benefiting us both must be forged. I know some of our mere human army of thirty does not understand or trust them, and there are some who are even afraid of our allies, but that crap has to stop. We can't fight among ourselves or fear for what they might do.
If anything, it is they who should be suspicious of us. They do not succumb to the powers of Satan's mind. Humans do.
Holy shit!" Bob says, coming up behind us. "What are those mist covered creatures? They look like ghosts, and there are so many of them!"
Tom looks at him, shaking his head. "More or less, that's what they are. They're Zombie ghosts. Spirits in limbo, I guess you could say."
It's easy to tell Bob is confused by all this and pretty frightened as well. "And what do they have in mind?"
"Most of them will fight on our side against the undead and the ones that we make in to ash," Tom says.
"The only way they can: with the power of their minds."
"You said "most" of them. What about the rest?"
"We're not really sure, but they can't hurt us, at least not on a physical level."
"Can they get in to our heads?"
Tom shuffles around a bit before saying, "That's what we're afraid of. They might be able to communicate with the evil among us, like the ones responsible for George's death. Those people could come after us, attack us when we least expect it. Sorry, Bob, but we have no absolutes. There are traitors around us, hopefully not within our little band here, but when we come into contact with others, we might be under attack from our own kind."
The others wake and come topside, ready to go on to the next field of battle. Tom waits until they're all gathered around and explains what's going on with our new ghost battlers. State of shock probably comes closest to describing their reaction, especially after what they went through to reduce these guys to ashes. And now they're back again? And they're our allies now?
"Hey, guys," I say, "I'm as surprised at this as any of you, but these are wacky times and we're mired in the middle of the worst of it. We need to use every available means at our disposal to fight this war or we all die. I don't feel like fucking dying, and I'm sure the rest of you don't either."
They mumble among themselves, but they don't have any solutions so they move into the trucks, refreshed at least. Some strange sort of sixth sense tells me today is not going to be an easy one, and we're going to be thankful we did get some time to gain some strength.
The mists are completely gone now, but even though I can no longer see them, I know the Zombie ghosts still hover around. I would imagine that since they're not slowed down with physical bodies, they'll be able to keep up with us or even go ahead of us. Have to wait 'til battle time to find out for sure.
We don't go far before thousands of Zombies are smack dab in our faces. Looking to the sides and behind with my elevated position in the helicopter, it appears they have us surrounded. Satan did decide to get us before we could do any more harm to his army. The bastard! I knew he would. It was just a matter of time. I hope we at least knock enough of them out while we're still close enough to the Armory to restock ourselves.
Shit! This might be our last chance to use the Armory. After that, it will be a whole new ball game. New armaments; new bases to get them from; new recruits. Hopefully, we'll get some pilots and find new means to wage war.
Our trucks split up, attacking the front and sides of the advancing army while Howard and I zip around to the rear and burn some Zombie ass. Our new recruits are close, I sense their presence and from the confused looks and staggered motions of the Zombies, it's obvious they are helping out: big time!
But the bastards keep coming! How many of them are there, wave after wave slamming into the trucks, shaking them about, the courage and strength of our big allies keeping them from overcoming us? Even the thousands of new recruits to our cause are finding it rough to combat their former brethren.
Our men and women are fighting hard, though, thoroughly used to the ways of the flame throwers now. There is no sign of any of them turning on us, even with the number of still loyal evil Zombie spirits trying to recruit for the Evil Master, they make no effort to listen to them. Thank God our human warriors, as small as the force might be, are still loyal to us.
The Black Hawks are doing their damage to the rear attack forces, bomb after bomb dropping on them, setting them on fire, the flame throwers wielded by the big guys finishing them off, turning them all to ash.
The thought transferences talk to me, telling me to hurry up and get back to the Armory for more and different supplies to wage war. What the . . .
No sense in arguing with them; they have been right all along with everything. Something big is ready to happen; what it is I sure don't know.
Howard and I both rush back to the Armory, hop out of our 'copters along with Louise, Tom, and the rest of our crews and follow our guides to two freshly loaded Black Hawks, these equipped not only with napalm and flame throwers but with ammo and guns loaded on top of the pylons. Holy shit! The big stuff is ready to hit now!
More of the big guys are all over the Armory, scurrying around, loading trucks and helicopters and keeping a vigilant eye out for the enemy. They know . . .they fucking know!
We're back to the battle lines in minutes, and we drop our napalm on the remaining rear attack force. But still I'm not told about why we need the guns. They would only stop the Zombies for a little while; they would still need to be burned. The tide is turning in our favor, as Zombie after Zombie succumbs to the fire.
Pain tears through my head, totally blinding me, removing me from any sense of vertigo I might have had mere moments before. Bile pours up through my wind pipe, threatening to erupt brutally, bringing any food left in my system up with it, and the sour taste of . . .my God, the sour taste of death smacks hard against my tongue as I smell evil around me, heavy, pushing on my chest, making me gag as I try to bring life giving oxygen to my lungs.
Louise goes in to near shock, watching my convulsing body doing God knows what.She wants to help pull me through whatever is wrong, but she can't do it if the 'copter crashes. Someone has to fly this thing!
They talk to her through Howard's mind and she takes control of the Black Hawk, and barrels off beyond the lines of battle. I don't understand, but I'm powerless to intervene, to question anything going on.
There is a transformation happening within my body, within my mind, and within my soul. I struggle for understanding, knowing everything will come quickly, but the pain coursing through my every fiber makes time appear to be traveling backwards. My frame splits apart-not in reality, but happening within a paradox of alternate possibilities.
Actualities; absolutes; and the knowledge, the all powerful knowledge coming from such things, are there within an instant, or so the aberrant of time still present within my mind would have me believe. Though still racked in physical pain, my senses are so sharp that it is a simple thing to push it to the side.
My friends have passed to me the gift: the most supreme power that could be bestowed upon me. I question not why they chose me. It is mine, and I will use it to the best of my ability.
Helicopters approach us, and I can feel the joy in the minds of Tom and Howard that we are getting some welcome help, pilots able to assist us in delivering the needed payload against the enemy.
Closer they come. My command is strong and firm.
"Prepare to fire!" I shout over the radio. "Take the bastards out!"