Have a thing

In the distance, Kaj could see the hoard of undead slowly pour over the distant Shadowrian hillside. So he was correct in believing that Merrick would return. Kaj stood up, even though it would be a while before the staggering undead would cross him. Meeting a necromancer with his undead in toe was the last thing Kaj wanted to do, even worse that he was alone, but he was Merrick’s only hope of escaping with his life. With some strings pulled, Kaj could lessen Merrick’s sentence so his life wouldn’t be completely ruined.

Kaj ran his fingers over the hilt of his sword. Hopefully he could get this over before nightfall. Living in Zempheriea had made Kaj used to the sunlight, so even the Shadowrian day felt like fighting at night. It would be even worse once true night hit.

The hoard, now only minutes away from reaching him, stopped. He waited, and from the front lines a man in simple clothes appeared. Even though he couldn’t see many of his features, Kaj knew it was Merrick. The group of undead moved again, this time following their master. Kaj gripped his sword. He didn’t want to appear confrontational, but the undead always required the upmost caution.

Merrick stopped several yards from Kaj. Strangely, his hair was unkempt, and his chin was dense with stubble, all accented by dark circles around his eyes. Had he not slept in days? If so, he was astonishingly sharp with his gaze, which despite his slumped shoulders, was trained directly on Kaj.

“What do you want?” Merrick demanded, balling his hands into fists. His eyebrows furrowed in rage, even before hearing Kaj’s answer.

“Merrick please,” he pleaded. “The others will find you and they will capture you. If you turn yourself in now, then…”

Merrick threw his head back and laughed. “You can’t be serious! You think that asking nicely is going to make me change my mind?”

“No,” Kaj said, quieter this time. “But I figured I’d try.”

“Get lost.” Merrick rolled his head, his sunken eyes finally betraying how little sleep he achieved over the past few nights. “Or are you going to fight me?”

Kaj realized his death grip on his sword. He let go of it and opened his arms to his sides.

“Why?” Kaj asked. “Why did you ask me to bring you back to life if… if this was your plan!?”

Merrick looked off to the side in silence. Had he not thought about it?

“You wouldn’t understand…”

“Then make me understand!” Kaj yelled. “Merrick, I’ve always remembered that night. You saved me, and I’ve always wanted to be able to show you how much that meant to me…”

“Oh really, you remember me saving you? Is that what you remember?”

It was a risk bringing up the night of the undead attack. It was always a scar on Kaj’s mind, and no doubt it was the same for Merrick. But it would get him talking.

“You think I wanted to save you? I couldn’t run, idiot! Dad broke my fucking rib, remember? I yelled at you to run because you wouldn’t let go of my fucking leg!”

Was that true? No, couldn’t be. Kaj searched his memory. Merrick and their father did get into a fight that night. That’s why they ran away. But… no, he definitely remembered Merrick turning to fight the undead gaining on them. Right?

“Oh my god, you don’t remember do you?” Merrick brought his hands up to his face and laughed again. “Do you even remember what life was like for us? Living in a shit hole with that abusive motherfucker.”

“Of course I remember!” It’s why he never drank. It’s why Kaj silently hated himself the mornings after he got too lazy to shave the day before. It’s why he flinched ever so slightly when Merrick referred to Isaac as “Dad” as if the man was anything close to warmth he got from a true father. “Don’t pretend like you always hated me! You didn’t just save me from zombies, idiot! You saved me from our father! It’s why you got into that fight with him! I drank his last beer, remember? And you took the fall for it!”

Merrick’s eyes darted back and forth along the ground, and his face softened ever so slightly. It was true, that night Kaj, just an eight-year-old boy, wanted to try the special adult drink his parents and Merrick were always drinking. After struggling to open the cap, he took a single sip and spit it out. What a disgusting drink it had been at the time. He poured the rest of it out and threw the bottle away. He hadn’t bothered to check if it was the last one in the fridge. Why would it have mattered? The eight-year-old Kaj wouldn’t have understood why his father would be thrown into a rage when he couldn’t get his drink. He had been sitting on the couch watching tv when his father roared across the house, demanding to know who drank the last beer. Merrick was sitting with him, reading a magazine of nothing but pictures of girls. Kaj had frozen in fear when their father entered the room, but Merrick said he was the one who took the beer. The resulting fight had left Merrick with a broken rib, though Kaj had never known that fact until now.

“Doesn’t matter,” Merrick said. “Even if I was nice to you, look where that got me. Devoured by…!”

The words caught in his throat as Merrick froze. His eyes slowly wandered to the undead by his sides. Behind him. Circling him from all sides. Slowly getting closer.

They had always been there. But now Merrick was very acutely aware of their presence.

“…Merrick?”

Merrick broke out of his daze and snapped his head over to Kaj. “D-don’t just stand there!” he yelled. “Attack him!”

With that, five undead broke from the group and charged Kaj, three with weapons and two without. Kaj quickly unsheathed his sword and steadied himself. The first zombie to strike wielded the signature Chaos Reaper’s saw tooth sword. Kaj dodged its swipe and wound his arms back like he was swinging a bat, ready to knock the zombie’s head clean off its shoulders. However, the undead rolled forward in a manner far too acrobatic than its rotting flesh should have allowed. Chaos Reapers: even in death they were expert fighters.

Kaj still swung his sword around, twisting his body so that it would hit the second undead as it came up from behind. It worked, and though the awkward motion kept him from hitting with full power, the zombie’s head ripped straight off. The third and fourth undead, the two without weapons, charged him, but Kaj ignored them and ran straight for Merrick. If he fought fair, Kaj would be defending himself against these undead assailants all day, and he would tire before that.

The fifth undead stood to block his path, but Kaj slammed it out of the way. The one good thing about rotting corpses was that they were lighter than a typical human. To be fair, they were still surprisingly heavy if you weren’t used to carrying the weight of a live human, but years of decomposition reduced their build up to half their weight. Given the zombie’s small original build on top of the weight it lost, it barely slowed Kaj’s advance.

There was a glimmer of surprise in Merrick’s eyes before Kaj’s fist slammed into the side of his face.  The force of the strike threw Merrick off his feet, and he landed flat onto his back. Kaj wasted no time jumping on top of him for a follow up. He landed on his knees at each side of the boy and pulled his fist back for another punch. It landed just above his previous attack, whipping Merrick’s head to the side. His next strike glanced off of Merrick’s ear as he struggled beneath his brother’s body weight. Kaj punched him again, hitting his mark this time. Merrick held his arms up above his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears flowing out of the corners. Guilt suddenly took hold of Kaj’s gut. He reached back for another attack, but the punch didn’t even have half the strength of the previous.

If Kaj didn’t want to fight an army of undead on his own, he had to stop Merrick. That meant hurting him. That meant knocking him out.

Merrick had several bright red circles forming on the sides of his face. Soon they’d be a sickly dark blue.

He had to what? Assault his own brother?

Kaj slowly stood up, letting go of his pin on Merrick. The boy cautiously opened an eye to watch him. But just as he did, two undead grabbed Kaj’s arms and threw him to his knees. A third drew his sword and wound it back to strike.

“W-Wait.” Merrick’s voice wavered as he stood up. He cradled his cheek where Kaj’s punches landed. The boy walked toward him, slowly, until he was standing only inches from Kaj. He stood silently over him, uneasy on his feet. Kaj hung his head, unable to look his brother in the eye. He screwed up. He was going to pay for it now. After a moment of standing in silence, Merrick wound his leg back and kicked him in gut. Kaj instinctually braced himself for the impact by tightening his muscles and letting out his breath. When the kick struck him, Kaj let out a grunt, but it was more from the anticipation than the actual strike itself. Kaj had received many more powerful kicks in his life, from military school to battle. Kaj breathed normally again and found that there had been little damage done.

Unsatisfied, Merrick bared his teeth and wound back, this time for a punch. It hit Kaj on the side of his head in a similar matter that he hit Merrick, and though it stung the blow, again, was unimpressive. Merrick, on the other hand, let out a yelp at the strike and cradled his striking hand in the other. Kaj hadn’t heard a snap, so it probably wasn’t broken.

“You have to toughen your hands before you can punch people,” Kaj said softly. “Especially in boney areas.”

He honestly didn’t want Merrick to hurt himself again. Kaj didn’t care about his own safety anymore. He could take whatever Merrick decided to dish out at him.

“Shut up!” Merrick yelled. He weakly pointed with his hurt hand at an object on the ground. “Give me the sword!”

Well, he could handle anything Merrick attacked him with, as long as that attack wasn’t accompanied by a sharp weapon. Dear gods, he probably never used a sword before. If Merrick was going to take out his anger on him, then he probably wouldn’t even kill him cleanly either. He was going to die a messy, painful death.

“W-wait, let’s just talk about this…!” Kaj struggled, but more of the undead descended upon him. Their rotting touch made his skin crawl.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Merrick gave a lopsided grin. He pointed the sword at Kaj’s face. The blade shook in his grip.

“Wait, please,” Kaj pleaded. “I’m sorry! I didn’t want to hurt you.”

An empty plea. He didn’t want to hurt Merrick, but he did. Merrick acted like he didn’t even hear Kaj. He raised the sword above his head. This was his last chance.

“Do I really remind you of Dad?” Kaj’s voice unexpectedly cracked saying the words.

“Yeah.”

And that one word stung harder than any attack Merrick had thrown at him. Ever since Merrick mistook him for their dad back in the afterlife, Kaj couldn’t shake a nagging fear every time he looked in the mirror. He couldn’t remember his father’s face, it had been too long. It was always Kaj’s face looking back at him. He never recognized anyone else. But that was his own memory, just as faulty as the next person’s. Merrick would know better.

Kaj went limp and hung his head, bracing for the strike. If Merrick needed to take his anger out on his father, even by proxy, then who was he to stop him? Just a quick vacation to heaven, Kaj thought. Just a little bit of pain and he’d be sipping afterlife wine by an afterlife pool. Luna or one of the others would find him and revive him up and he’d say it wasn’t so bad…

The blow should have come by now.

Kaj hesitantly looked up to find Merrick still standing with sword over head, but now looking down on him with a mix of emotions.

Their father would have gone out cursing and screaming. His quiet resignation must have been a bit too out of character for the illusion to hold.

Risking a trigger to get Merrick to attack, Kaj began speaking again.

“I always looked up to you, you know. The way you never backed down. Every time Dad got mad, I ran and hid, but one day I wanted to be able to stand up to him like you did. I used to imagine you and I teaming up to fight him together…”

“What the hell are you talking about!?” Merrick yelled in interruption, but he at least dropped the sword when he did. “Why the hell would you look up to me? I’m the worst! Don’t you remember anything?”

“I remember you protecting me,” Kaj said, honestly. And some petty arguments here and there, but what brothers didn’t?

But Merrick looked down on him, face contorted in anguish, and shook his head. “Fucking when?” he pleaded. “Half the time I was so jacked up on drugs I couldn’t come home! The other half was me being a lazy shit and feeling sorry for myself. I sucked at everything! Dad wanted me to become a Chaos Reaper but I was just a wimp. I couldn’t fight with a sword, I couldn’t fight with magic. I even tried killing myself once, but I was too much of a wimp to do that too!”

Kaj looked up at Merrick. He honestly never knew.

“I was just eight,” he said. “Those things don’t really matter when you’re eight.”

Merrick stared at him, expecting more. He laughed nervously when he didn’t get any more.

“That’s it? You were just a dumbass kid?”

Kaj nodded his head. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“All those times I came home high. You didn’t think something was weird?”

“I just… thought you were loopy.” Kaj shrugged. “Kid.”

Merrick pursed his lips and looked away, raking his fingers nervously in his hair. The fire was now gone, but all that pent up rage couldn’t just disappear. His hands shook despite his efforts to keep them busy through fidgets and quirks. His eyes were no longer fixated on him, but rather a spot in the far off distance behind him in attempt to hide his welling tears.

Since his revival Kaj had been uneasy around Merrick. He was unsure how to take his older brother, now fifteen years later, as an adult his spirit was or the teenager of his body. But now, watching him fall apart emotionally before him, Kaj wanted nothing more to embrace his brother and tell him everything would be all right. Not just as family, but as a person who had silently endured sixteen years of their father. Kaj remembered the beatings most, but Merrick had become numb to that long ago. His wounds were far deeper, finally coming to the surface, and Kaj watched his sixteen-year-old brother in helpless, pitiful pain for the first time. He had intended Merrick’s revival as a favor for his final sacrifice, but that was no longer the case. He was the older brother now, and he would be the older brother Merrick wished he had to protect him as he did for Kaj.

Kaj felt the undead grip on his body lessen. He quickly took the opportunity to shake them off, and the skeletons made no effort to retake him. He silently took a step towards his brother, careful not to make any sudden motions. Merrick didn’t notice, or didn’t care. Kaj slowly continued, and reached out his hand to clasp Merrick’s shoulder.

“Well well, wasn’t that touching?”

Both men snapped out of their shared world and looked at their new guest. He had stark orange hair, brushed down barely enough to prove he did own a comb. He wore a lab coat, and a dull blue button down shirt with pressed slacks, the perfect image of a boring office worker. Only his tie, poorly knotted and hanging askew, revealed his true nature. He walked between the army of undead assassins completely unfazed.

“Ah, I didn’t catch the first part of the conversation, but… You’re afraid of undead yeah?” The man looked around. “Damn, you chose the wrong career!”

Merrick stared wide-eyed at the man with clenched fists. He staggered back a few feet while attempting to blurt out a command.

“S-stop him!”

But the undead army did not move. The man looked around in mocking expectation, pretending to be interested in if any of the zombies would attack.

“Oh dear, guess they don’t like you anymore. Makes sense, why would anyone willingly follow a pipsqueak necromancer like you?” The man’s mocking smile transitioned into rage, his eyes sharp and teeth bared. “I can’t believe a pathetic excuse for a necromancer is the reason I got caught by the fuzz! You know what kind of hellish torture they put me through!?”

“Wait…” Kaj suddenly looked at the man with recognition. “You’re that necromancer we intercepted outside of Shadowrian. The one with the dragon bones.”

“Bingo! The name’s Fang by the way, since you apparently forgot.”

“You’re supposed to be in jail. How’d you…”

“Jail? Was that the plan?” Fang laughed to himself. “No, I got a punishment much worse. A full time job! Real punch card nine-to-five. Look at the rags they’re making me wear! This is the Eight Kingdoms, a bastion of freedom! And I’m forced to wear a shirt with buttons? Buttons are the worst! Why would anyone choose to waste their time with buttons?”

“A job!?” Kaj interjected, not fazed by Fang’s tirade against clothing type.

“Yeah. That scientist pal of yours had plans of her own. Hehehe…” Fang began laughing again. “Oh man, if only you knew the truth during all that. She sure did seemed interested in those dragon bones didn’t she? Something about them belonging to science? Bullshit. I bought them off the black market. They probably didn’t even come from the same dragon. But science girl knew what I was trying to do. She knows my pet’s true power.”

Kaj didn’t know what to say. Kono lied? Betrayed them? Why would she possibly want to work with this guy?

But Fang didn’t seem interested in Kaj’s predicament. Instead he looked around at the swarm of undead, inspecting each.

“I have to admit, I do appreciate your ambition kid. The Chaos Reapers? Damn, it’s my lucky day! Not only did you find out where their burial ground is, but you got through the traps? Even I didn’t want to attempt that. But…” Fang stood on his toes and scanned the group. “Pathetic. You don’t have a complete collection. You’re missing the leader? Really? Why bother at that point.”

Suppressing the urge to correct Fang about who was responsible for disabling all the traps leading up to the Chaotic Spirit Tomb, Kaj looked over at Merrick. He was staring off into space, shaking. He probably wasn’t even listening to Fang.

“Whatever. If the traps are disabled then I can pick him up myself. I heard his second in command was buried somewhere else too… Gonna have to hunt him down.”

The prospect of empowering an even more threatening necromancer grieved Kaj, but he wasn’t about to fight him alone. His goal was to get Merrick to stop before he doomed himself with something truly unforgivable. And, technically, he was successful, even if the end result created an even more powerful threat.

“Now now, I think your hard work deserves a reward, don’t you think? How about… oh right, remind me. You said you’re afraid of undead right? Both of you actually… Something about an undead attack when you were kids. How about I help you out a bit? They say exposure therapy is a very effective method of curing fears.”

Kaj’s stomach dropped. Each of the undead, in unison, turned their heads to face him and Merrick.

Kaj squatted down to quickly reclaim his sword, but upon standing again he realized Merrick had completely backed into him. Kaj’s heart was pounding, but Merrick couldn’t seem to get a breath fast enough. He had to be on the edge of hysterics.

And of course, once again Kaj found himself having to fight a hoard of zombies. He glanced over to Fang, who smartly waded to the back of the crowd. Maybe he had been watching longer than he let on. Kaj could still cut a path to him, but now he had someone to protect as well. Someone who would otherwise be useless, based on the panic attack he heard behind him. Any attempt to carry Merrick away would leave them both open to attack.

The first zombie made its move, wielding the signature saw tooth blade of the Chaos Reapers. Kaj locked their swords and pushed it back into the crowd. A second zombie lurched forward, this one aiming for Merrick. Kaj noticed with just enough time to take a lunging strike for the rotting corpse, plunging his sword into its ribcage and severing several ribs in the process. Two more, and Kaj swung wildly in a show of force. These zombies fought like humans, like well-trained assassins, and that was proving to Kaj’s advantage. A true unthinking zombie hoard would trample each other in an unbreakable wave of bone and sinew, but humans cared about their own well being too much for that tactic to work.

Kaj continued to swing his sword like a madman. Each time a zombie emerged from the crowd, he’d be inches away from hitting the skull off its shoulders. Some lost arms, or ribs, or clavicles. None dared approach further than a foot or two. They just stood back, mouths open and groaning otherworldly rasps.

Maybe I can escape with Merrick, Kaj thought. If he could shove Merrick away from the center of the hoard, the two could slowly make their way to the edge until they were free. It was as good as any other plan.

Kaj noticed his breathing; quick, raspy gasps of air. Fighting like a berserker when you weren’t one only worked in very short bursts. Kaj felt like he had been fighting for five minutes, which if his training taught him anything, meant it was closer to two. Another zombie lunged, this one careless enough to leave its right arm exposed long enough to lose it. But now that Kaj was aware of his own exhaustion, each strike felt more and more laborious.

No, this wasn’t even close to his full potential. He once heard of a man who sprinted from one end of the kingdoms to the other before dropping over dead. If that’s what it took, then so be it. He scanned the hoard again. Just more groaning. One jumped forward, throwing its hands up. Kaj lunged for it but realized it had been a feint before swinging his sword. The groans continued.

No, they weren’t groans. They were laughing at him. The undead Chaos Reapers knew full well what they were doing. They had been toying with him this whole time. Kaj’s face drained of color. He wanted to be brave in the face of imminent death, but he had made himself a fool instead. He was infuriated, but terrified. Another zombie jumped at him, but Kaj finally realized it for what it was. It was like watching a child shout “boo!” in an attempt to scare him. He flinched, couldn’t help it, but it was just as hilarious. He dropped his arms at his side in surrender.

A few more feeble attempts to get him to jump passed, and the hoard started to move in. Merrick had curled up into a ball at some point, desperately trying to keep the outside world away. A few zombies poked and prodded him in attempt to get a reaction. One zombie approached Kaj and growled, barely touching his face with its teeth. Kaj looked away and held his breath. Not because the smell was unbearable, but because he was eight again, hiding under a stranger’s front porch, stifling back tears and clamping his hands to his nose to remain as silent as possible.

“That’s enough.” Fang’s words rang like a bell across the field. At once the zombies backed off. Kaj wobbled and fell to the ground. He could breath again, and his body demanded air. He didn’t notice Fang walk in front of him, but the necromancer took a fistful of Kaj’s hair and cranked his head up to look at him. Fang’s face was only inches from his, like the zombie had done moments ago.

“If you ever get in my way again, I will have them rip your skin from your bones and hang you by your tendons like a bloody holiday ornament. Understand?”

It wasn’t a question for Kaj to answer. Fang released his grip on him and walked away, readjusting his lab coat over his shoulders. The undead paraded behind him, walking past the two brothers like they were nothing but boulders in the road. Kaj didn’t watch them leave.

The two sat with nothing but the light breeze to break their dead silence for a long time.