NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 8: Massacre
Sorry about the information dump at points.
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Shane grabbed the hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
"Elliott!"
Elliott gave Shane an understanding smile, "I know, let's go get him."
Elliott pulled his hands back and made a 'T' shape with his body.
He stood silently as a knife flew from its place in the trunk of his tree and a spinning object came arching out of the truck the group had returned to earlier that morning.
The handles of a combat knife and a Throwing axe appeared in his hands.
The people around him stared in shock. 'What kind of person had Shane brought to their camp?'
Rick moved forward. Hearing Shane say Carl's name put him on edge.
He walked over and placed himself in front of Shane, standing between him and Elliott.
Looking into his friend's eyes, he says. "What is it? What did you hear?"
Shane looked back into Rick's eyes, and silence sat between them. "Walkers. About 40 of them."
Elliott chuckled from the side, gaining the attention of others. "About 60, actually."
Rick's eyes shot wide at the thought, 'That was a lot. Back in Atlanta, there had been more, but he only had himself to be concerned about. Now he has Lori, the others, and Carl.'
Lori walked over to them and stood beside Rick, one hand on his shoulder the other on his hand by his waist. "Rick, honey, don't listen to them. There's nothing; even if there was, there is no way they could have heard it from this distance. They're lying."
Elliott laughed mockingly, "Come on, Lorelai. We all know you're just jealous that someone in the camp is prettier than you." He moved his hands up and down his body, showing off his thin waist and tight muscles.
Elliott chuckled a couple more times, his tone darker. He glared at her hard, making her shiver. "But the fact that you aren't the slightest bit concerned about your son's safety after he just ran into the woods in the dark." Elliott went quiet, and all that could be made out was some low huffs of breath, until he hissed, "You disgust me."
Turning to Shane, ignoring Lori, "Let's go, Carl's about to run into them."
Shane nodded, taking the handle of the knife Elliott held out by the blade.
"Can you keep up?" Elliott said, there was a scary seriousness in his tone, Shane nodded. "Ok, make sure to go for the head. Even if you decapitate them the only way to finish them off truly is a strong blow to the head."
Rick moved to block Elliott from running off trying to find out more about the situation before a loud scream rang out, echoing across the woods and the quarry.
"Carl!" Rick opened his mouth to yell at Elliott but froze when he saw Elliott's face.
The face ignited pure terror in Rick's heart.
Elliott's Subskill of King's Aura, King's wrath poured out around the group. They were frozen still, a cold sweat dripping down their backs. Beside them, the fire roared, reflecting Elliott's emotions.
Elliott looked into the woods and commanded, "Let's go."
Before everyone's eyes, Elliott disappeared like a flicker, followed shortly after by Shane.
Seconds passed, and nobody moved.
Another scream rang out, "Shane! Elliott, help!"
Rick finally moved and ran to the scream's source, "Carl!"
~~~
Carl was running through the woods at a speed unusual for his age.
He was angry. At his dad, his mom, this world and himself.
The only fatherly action he had seen from Rick the entire day was his relief at finding him alive. That hug signified what could have been the start of a new chapter—a short chapter but new.
But after he got back, Lori pulled Rick away, and he didn't see him again until dinner.
Flashback
Carl tried to go find his dad, to talk, be in his presence, his eyeline, anything. But when Carl got to the outside of his mum's tent he heard them talking about him.
"Rick, Carl's not the same as he used to be. He's changed, he seems dangerous. It happened after that that Elliott joined the camp, he's a horrible influence on our boy. Carl seems different." Silence enveloped the tent, Lori hadn't finished. "He seems wrong."
Shock and horror ran through him as he heard the way his mum described him. The next thing, though, broke his heart.
"I'll talk to him."
There was no question in his dad's voice, no refute, no dissuasion he just believed there was something wrong with his son.
Before hearing anything else, he ran away to find Elliott and Shane. The next time he saw his dad was that evening by the fire. Pretending nothing was wrong, he curled up across his lap.
Flashback end
Carl ran until he couldn't anymore. Crouching to the ground, his chest heaving a snap in the woods around him jolts him clear of any fatigue.
He ended up in a large patch of grass, like a small field in the woods. He focused his hearing on his surroundings, trying to pick up where the noise came from.
Ever since Carl found out about Elliott, his body had changed. He could see, hear, and smell things that he shouldn't be able to see, hear, and smell. In three days, his body had transformed. He had grown four inches and could almost jump three meters in a single leap.
Carl didn't know that as the Soulbond with Elliott was made, it unlocked their potential, making them exceed human limits. He could easily knock an adult out cold with a single punch at his current strength. As the percentage of the bond grew, their bodies grew stronger, which was reflected in Elliott as well, making him grow almost twice as strong as he had been when he first arrived.
He heard footsteps approaching him not too far away. For some unknown reason, they had changed their previous course, which would have completely ignored him, to do a 90-degree turn towards him.
Carl waited with bated breath for his first sight. The unusual movement pattern told him what was coming: Walkers. And they were coming for him.
Carl reached into the holster on his side and pulled out a hatchet; he liked the way it fit in his hand, Elliott told him an axe type weapon was his favourite and showed him how to use it in a fight.
Carl gripped the hatchet tightly, watching shadows emerge from the woods opposite him.
Remembering what Elliott told him earlier that day while teaching Carl.
"The axe is a versatile and flexible weapon. However, a weapon is just an object. It has to be fully utilised by the person holding it. It could be used for slashing, hitting or cutting, but any of these depends on the situation. The greatest weapon of all in a fight is your mind. To know your style, to know your enemy and to know how to win. At your height, you have the versatility advantage along with your agility, but the best way to know your style is to fight." Elliott bent down close to Carl's ear and said "So we'll go off later today and kill some walkers, there's a couple making their way to towards this direction, if we're lucky we should be able to get a small group for you to take out by yourself." Elliott grinned at Carl and ruffled his hair.
Standing back up, Elliott looks at Carl head-on. "But the main thing to remember is that fighting isn't something you do to survive or win. It's something you do to kill."
Carl nodded taking every word seriously. Curious Carl asked, "Elliott, what's your style? It must be super powerful."
Elliott chuckled, "I guess this is lesson two: never show off your fighting style for the fun of it. Your style is the key to staying alive. Showing it to others gives them time to adapt and counter you." Carl nodded along, his eagerness showing through any mask he was using. "And third lesson. The truly strong don't need to resort to a battle style for their opponents to lose. Some use only a pull of a trigger, a stroke of a blade or words that bite at the heart."
Carl stood in awe of Elliott, radiating an aura that felt cold yet so cool.
"For example." Elliott raised his hand and a clatter on the table Shane was sitting at and was followed by something cutting through the wind. Ignoring the 'Hey' coming from Shane, Elliott's Army knife appeared in his hand. Without saying anything he gripped the knife and threw it hard at his tree. With a loud 'Whoosh' of the blade through the wind and a dull 'thud' the blade buried itself to the hilt in the tree.
"Cool."
They never were able to go out because it was the same day the group and his dad returned to the camp, and his dad would never approve.
Carl stood in the clearing, watching as walker after walker came out of the woods; he stopped counting at 17.
Tightening his grip, Carl moved closer to the oncoming mob of soon-to-be deader bodies. He was moments away from encountering his first walker.
Moving forward, Carl moved steadily to the first. With a small run, Carl jumped up, making their heights align, and swung down hard, smashing the walker's face into bits.
With a heavy 'thud' its body hit the ground.
Carl moved onto the next one, taking out its legs and moving onto its head.
He repeated his actions twice more before his hatchet got stuck inside the shoulder of one of the dead.
Trying to yank it out, Carl was aware that a small cluster of three walkers was close to him.
After failing to pry the hatchet out of the walking corpse, he left and moved back to face the trio head-on.
The walker at the back tripped over the fallen Walkers, giving Carl a few extra moments to tackle the now pair in front of him.
Ready for action, Carl charged at the first with a slide tackle. Hearing a crack, Carl knew his tackle hit the right spot. The walker collapsed on the ground, unable to support itself with a foot twisted 90 degrees the wrong way.
Standing up, Carl lunged at the last walker. He didn't know how to feel about this one. Unlike the previous two, this one was a child. He was wearing cargo shorts and a navy blue polo with a fisherman's hat strapped around his neck. The kid was probably on a fishing trip with his family before he died.
Carl looked pissed. Elliott had explained what he knew. That the Pantheon's, those 'gods' decided to create a new way to spread their influence and have their follower gain more faith. So they made the walkers. Their mind only set on two things. Praying to the god that created them, devoting their entire mind and body to the faith, and the other is to create others like them. Their mind so over-run with the thoughts they are unable to stop after one bite
Carl clenched his fist and thrust it towards the young walker's gut. All his anger was sent into this one punch.
'Bang'
The Walker went flying, and the punch sent it flying backwards into a tree. Its head was impaled, and its body was hanging from a branch.
"May you rest in peace."
Moving on the the walker with the broken foot, Carl walked over with heavy steps, gritting his teeth. Standing in front of it he looked with disdain at the abomination crawling towards him. Carl lifted his foot, dropping it directly on the things head, smashing it. Lifting it up and down over and over again until his foot hurt from the impact and there was only a puddle of brain and shards of bone mixed in.
Carl stopped, looked down and stared. Glaring he turned to the rest of them.
Caught up in his emotions, Carl failed to remember there had been three. At some point, he walked past it in the fight.
The third crawled over to Carl, grabbing his foot in mid-step. Using his ankle as leverage, the walker pulled itself forward and sunk it's rotten teeth into Carl's Achilles tendon. Causing him to let out a blood curdling scream of pain.
"Aaahhhh!"
Carl looked back to see the disgusting creature's teeth on him, refusing to let go. Using his other foot, he slammed it into its temple, pushing its grip off him, but not without taking a chunk of flesh with it.
Pushing himself up and away from the walker. Carl wobbled over to the side, distancing himself from the rest.
He knew the implications of getting bit. He heard the adults in the camp talking. You get bit, you turn. He didn't want that. Away from here, he had so many adventures played out in his head and heart for the future. But that all ended.
Carl searched in his head for a reason, something to focus all his anger and frustration on. His mind settled on them: his dad and Lori. If his dad hadn't come back today, they would have been able to train. He would know how to fight. He would be happy. He would be alive. He wouldn't be in this stupid situation if his mum hadn't been awful and neglected him his whole life. All because he had got hopeful about seeing his dad again? Not anymore. All I have left is Elliott and Shane. Nothing else.
Growls and gurgles registered in Carl's ears. His eyes shot to the walker in front of him.
There was now 40 all over the clearing with walkers still hobbling out the woods.
He knew what would happen if they were to get to him. He didn't want to go out like that.
One last scream of desperation escaped him as he yelled, "Shane, Elliott!"
Carl's eyes threatened to close as the last thing he saw was the arm of an old man reaching out to him. It wore blue denim jeans stained with blood and a ripped Rolling Stones t-shirt.
As the arm was about to grab his face, a familiar 'whoosh' rang through the air and a dull thud sounded below him.
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