The Temple of the Dead Read online

  The Temple of the Dead

  Book 2 of Sepulchral Earth Series

  By

  Tim Marquitz

  Damnation Books, LLC.

  P.O. Box 3931

  Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998

  www.damnationbooks.com

  The Temple of the Dead

  Book 2 of Sepulchral Earth Series

  by Tim Marquitz

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-270-9

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-271-6

  Cover art by: Jessica Lucero

  Edited by: Lisa Jackson

  Copyright 2010 Tim Marquitz

  Printed in the United States of America

  Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights

  1st North American and UK Print Rights

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedicated to the loves of my life, Tiffanie and Lorelei.

  Acknowledgements:

  To Mihir for his dogged persistence in helping me stay on point.

  To Frankie, Isaac, and Jodale.

  To my Andress supporters,

  thank you all.

  The Temple of the Dead

  Under the rumbling gray sky, Harlan Cole clutched his swollen ribs, his face a patchwork of graven lines. He circled right as the walker came at him. Short huffs of breath spewed from cracked lips. He looked into the corpse’s blackened sockets to see pools of insect larvae churning in their depths. Harlan fought the urge to gag as a long brown roach skittered from the corpse’s eye and ran across its cheek. It wormed its way inside the walker’s jaundiced ear and disappeared.

  Distracted by the sight, shivers rippled his flesh. Harlan barely realized the corpse had swung its cadaverous arm. He slipped just out of reach, his broken ribs setting fire to his side despite the tight wrap. He leaned in and thrust his obsidian sword under the walker’s chin with a trembling hand, burying the point deep inside its rotten skull.

  The corpse spasmed once and went rigid. Its possessor shrieked in ethereal rage as it was forced from the dead flesh and banished into the void. The screams dying away in Harlan’s head, the walker crumpled, pulling the sword from Harlan’s hand without resistance.

  Every muscle in Harlan’s body gave way in concert and he collapsed onto the wet sand beside the corpse. His heart thundered in his chest, each beat a shotgun blast. Through blurry eyes, he surveyed the other walkers that happened upon his perch. They lay there stiff and unmoving, dead once again, their spirit engines driven out.

  As he gasped to draw air, the bitter taste of decay settled thick in his throat. His stomach roiled. He crawled downwind, a raw groan slipping loose as he lay down in the gentle rain. The acrid stench eased by degrees.

  As he struggled to catch his breath, a quiet whisper nagged at his ear. He cast his reddened eyes to the side and grumbled. “Thanks, Mother. I’ll get right on it.”

  The Professor shimmered into view. The blackened shadows of his makeshift face were drawn in a semblance of frustration.

  Harlan sat up, his teeth clenched. “You don’t think I know that? I’m on my way to the hospital right now. Oh, wait…”

  The Professor drifted closer, shimmering hands on ghostly hips.

  A subtle smiled crept over Harlan’s lips. “No, sarcasm doesn’t help, but it makes me feel better.” His heart settling into an easy trot, Harlan got to his feet. He ignored the sharp spikes that pierced his knees and glanced at the darkening face of the spirit. “Don’t worry. I’ll do what I have to, even if it kills me.”

  A subtle tremor flickered along the spirit’s form. The shadows of his face morphed into a scowl. Harlan stared at him a moment, then nodded, his mouth a grim line. He yanked his sword from the fleshy sheath and returned it to its place on his belt before stepping around his guardian. He ruffled the energies of The Professor’s shoulder as he passed, and moved toward the sandy precipice. At its edge, he glanced out over the valley.

  A deep sigh slipped from him as the immensity of his task lumbered about before him.

  In the distance, the pewter-gray walls of Delphi stood out against the browns and light greens of the desert. The massive structure of the main building stood tall, defiant against the late afternoon haze that blurred the cloudy sky. A scattering of smaller buildings littered the yard. A security fence surrounded the compound. The razor wire that topped it glistened even in the dim light of the passing storm. While mostly intact, sections of the fence had collapsed and lay buried in the sand.

  Within its confines ambled an army of walkers. The corpses of humans stumbled in lazy laps around the buildings while motley dogs and coyotes circled their feet. A multitude of possessed animals roamed the yard, from a dozen feral cats to a golden-blond mare, its leather saddle rotting on its back. A mountain lion prowled among them, its natural instincts submerged in the whitewash of the possessive spirit’s control.

  Flocks of black-winged grackles filled the sky, wheeling in circles overhead, casting a wavering shadow across the compound. Harlan could hear their spectral voices on the air. Desperation mingled amidst the fury.

  A gentle wave of insistence washed over him. He blocked out the birds and focused on the glimmer of energy that prickled his skin. He let it in and felt its essence tug at his spirit. It called to him.

  “Can you feel that?”

  The Professor drifted closer to the sandy edge without responding. Harlan stared at him and the spirit’s makeshift mouth turned up in a slight smile. He watched for a moment longer, his guardian inching forward as though being pulled. Harlan set a hand upon The Professor’s shimmering arm and the ghost twitched suddenly. He swung his swirling gaze around.

  Harlan met his dark eyes. “Soon enough, my friend.” A quiet sigh tickled his ear. “But we have work to do now.”

  The Professor nodded, the movement exaggerated, and leapt off the dirt ledge, flinging himself toward the compound. As he faded from sight, Harlan worked his way down the far side of the hill. He circled to come around from the opposite direction. As he neared the bottom, he heard his guardian spirit begin to howl. His frothy rage raised the hair on the back of Harlan’s neck.

  The walkers in the compound swung their heads as one, their voices added to The Professor’s. Answering the spirit’s cry, they shook off the lethargy of their endless rounds and made their way toward him. The animal forms were blurs against the sand, the human corpses far slower as they lurched on rotten legs.

  Harlan stood behind a tangle of creosote bushes, far enough out that the spirits couldn’t sense him. He waited until the bulk of the corpses had left the yard, then made his way to a hole in the fence he’d spied from his perch. Unconcerned with being seen, the walkers intent upon The Professor, he made a mad dash toward the main building. He wound his way through the maze of outlying portables at a gallop, their exteriors weathered by the elements and the frustrated dead. His side was a serenade in agony, his eyes clenched to tiny slits as he tried to ignore it.

  His elbow tucked in tight against his ribs to reinforce the makeshift wrap, he raced between the last few buildings. Just as he clear
ed the corner, something snatched at his leg and sent him tumbling. The wall of the portable filled his vision and he turned his face away just as the side of his head collided with it.

  Darkness washed over him. It was chased away in a burst of pain as he struck the ground. His senses roared to life in the aftermath, the gritty sand in his mouth and nose moist and cloying. He wiped the dirt from his teary eyes as he heard something skitter behind him. He rolled to his side, his hand going for his sword as he confronted the thing that had tripped him.

  From beneath the opposite portable leered a grinning skull. Two fleshy arms cleared the loose dirt from around it. The blackened pits of its eyes glared murder as it slipped from beneath the building. Harlan gasped when he saw it and jumped to his feet, ignoring his body’s screaming complaints.

  Its hoary arms were joined by another, and then another, and still two more after that. With no torso to support them, each cadaverous limb sprouted from the bottom of the skull like the tentacles of a squid. They raised the fleshless skull up, four sets of knuckles digging into the sand until it stood over three feet tall. The two remaining arms extended toward Harlan. Decayed flesh flaked away from the fingers as they opened and closed like the pincers of a crab.

  Despite his familiarity with death, there was nothing in his past that could prepare him for the sight of such an abomination. His stomach felt full of lead as he stared at it, his mind a whirlwind of disgust. Sword in hand, he backed away. He bounced off the portable wall for fear of taking his eyes off the creature that trundled toward him.

  Its ethereal voice spewed venom, its skeletal teeth chattering along in time. Grasping hands creaked as arthritic joints ground together, reaching out for him. It advanced, matching its pace to his.

  The obsidian blade squirmed in Harlan’s hand, shaking his arm with insistent violence. He struggled to retain his grip on the fidgeting blade as he wondered at its sudden rebellion. His thoughts scrambled from the blow to the head, he strained to clear his mind. He stared at the twisted creature, the empty pools of its eyes giving away nothing of its intent.

  He continued backing away in the direction of the main building when at last a stray thought broke through the murk inside his skull. The sword settled.

  Just as he reached the far corner of the portable, he took a quick step away from it and spun, his blade leading the way. The obsidian sword arced through the air. Its razored edge cleaved the head from a walker that lurked behind the sheltering wall of the small building. As easily as it had the brittle bone of the corpse, the blade sliced through the aluminum wall of the portable before the spirit had even fled its host.

  The sword’s momentum carried through until Harlan once again faced the grinning, six-armed skull, the blade held out front. It sat steady in his hand. Yellow-green ooze dripped from its edge.

  The abomination shrieked and scurried forward, its scrabbling hands lending it speed. Harlan took a step right, then dodged left as the creature flung itself at him. Fouled by the misdirection, the thing stumbled as it tried to correct its course. A quick slash of Harlan’s sword ended its attempt.

  Its limbs severed, the skull sailed through the air and tumbled into the sand, rolling to a stop several yards away. Its other voice screamed its rage as Harlan skirted the pile of still-thrashing limbs and chased after it. He speared the skull and flung it away as the possessive spirit screeched and fled the touch of the blade.

  Certain the other walkers had heard its cries, Harlan ran full out for the main building. Though he didn’t dare look to confirm it, he thought he saw the walkers returning. There was a bustle of activity off in the distance of his peripheral vision. Adrenaline fueled his charge. He clenched his teeth and did his best to ignore the lightning bolts that seared through his knees as he ran. His jounced ribs screamed a blowtorch of agony.

  Designed for security, Delphi was built with an abundance of stone and steel, and seemingly little else. The only windows in the building were tiny murder holes set high upon the walls, far out of reach. The entrance was a massive door set above a steep flight of wide stairs.

  With every step provoking a muttered curse, Harlan used the handrail to scale the mountain of stairs, arriving breathless on the landing. He stumbled to the entrance where sudden realization enshrouded him. He stared at the door with wide eyes. His hand unconsciously traced the frame where the handle should be. There was nothing.

  He glanced to the wall and a saw a tinted dome attached to it. Below it was a keypad, its screen deader than the corpses on his heels. Harlan cast a glance behind him to see the walkers stumbling his way. Several of the dogs were already inside the fence. Low to the ground, they were closing the distance fast. The mountain lion led the charge.

  The Professor too far away to trigger the door from the inside, Harlan surveyed the yard, looking for the most tactical way to flee. As his gaze swung to his left, he spied a shimmer of red illuminating his shoulder. He spun about and noticed the glowing dot of life inside the security camera’s plastic dome.

  Giving no thought to who, or what, might have activated the camera, Harlan waved and shouted. He pointed to the approaching dead. For several long seconds he stood there frantic, pounding on the door as the walkers grew ever closer. It remained closed. The glowing light teased him with the promise of sanctuary, just out of reach.

  Harlan drew in a resigned breath as the possessed animals neared the bottom of the stairs, and turned to face them. His time spent pleading at the door had left him none to escape. He held his obsidian sword tight in his sweaty hand as his thoughts drifted to his family. He didn’t fear death, only failure.

  Though it would be the dead that ripped the flesh from his bones, it would be shame that killed him.

  As the lion mounted the first of the steps and climbed fast, its wailing entourage of hounds and coyotes at its heels, Harlan heard a muted click behind him. Not daring to hope, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. His heart nearly burst as he noticed a crack of darkness between the door and the frame. Without worrying what might lie inside, he pushed his way through the portal. It couldn’t be much worse than what he knew awaited him outside.

  He slammed the door shut, putting his weight behind it, just as the lion crashed into its reinforced face with a raspy snarl. The impact nearly knocked Harlan off his feet, his boots finding little traction on the slick tile floor. He took advantage of a momentary lull of pressure while the big cat pulled back to hit the door again, and wedged his bare back against the cold steel. His head reeled with the white noise of the rabid animals just outside. He slid his sword behind him and scratched a line along the threshold as he spit out a muffled word.

  Silence exploded.

  Bile bubbled up caustic in the back of his throat as he sank to a seat. Trickles of sweat cascaded down his face. The rhythm of his breathing competed with the rapid-fire beat of his heart, his chest a huffing locomotive of hot and sharp pains. He stared into the gloom, unable to make out any details of his surroundings. Though he could barely see, and every inch of his body hurt, a smile sprang unbidden to his lips. He was still alive.

  The sudden appearance of The Professor materializing through the door, wiped the smile away with a start. Harlan swallowed hard and glared at his guardian spirit, loosening the white-knuckled grip on his blade. He shook his head and leaned his back against the door to catch his breath.

  The quiet vibration of the magnetic locks engaging made him jump to his feet. The room suddenly flooded with light. He did his best not to look like prey under its harsh glow. His hands shaking from the adrenaline dump, he wasn’t confident he’d succeeded.

  “Sorry to leave you out there so long. The system takes a few seconds to warm up.” Like a country mouse, a quiet voice squeaked.

  Harlan shielded his eyes and saw a shaggy young man standing in a doorway across the room. He had on a stained lab coat, its color almost ind
istinguishable from the brown slacks he wore. His hair was haggard and uneven, as though he’d trimmed it with a hacksaw. His chin was covered in spattered patches of a wild blond beard.

  “Walter told me y’all would be showing up. Just didn’t expect you so soon.” He waved Harlan over. “My name’s Cam. You best come inside before the sun sets. It gets a little busy round here.”

  Mindful of the risks of trusting anyone, Harlan found it easy to like Cam. Despite the ruin of the world around him, the living dead stalking the yard outside, the man hadn’t seemed to have lost his southern charm, which said a lot about his character.

  “You hungry?” Cam asked, leading the way down a dimly lit stairwell.

  “I could eat, though if you have something to drink, that’d be even better.”

  “Sure. Got plenty of clean water and there’s even some sodas left over if you want something with flavor.”

  Harlan chuckled. “I was thinking maybe something a little more, uh, medicinal, if you know what I mean.”

  Cam cast him a toothy smile. “Gotcha. Not much of a drinker myself, but we had an old boy here, one of the technicians, who couldn’t have made it through the day without a sip or twelve. He had a few bottles stashed about, here and there. I’ll scrounge one up for you.”

  Harlan thanked him with enthusiasm and they traveled the rest of the way in silence. Just the thought of a good stiff drink eased his myriad aches and pains.

  At a wide landing, four stories down, Cam yanked open a reinforced fire door and waved Harlan and The Professor through before flipping a switch that plunged the stairwell into inky blackness. The fluorescent lights in the corridor beyond were set low, casting their illumination in trembling flickers. The temperature was noticeably cooler beyond the door than it had been upstairs. The gentle chill prickled Harlan’s skin.

  “This here’s where I stay at night.” He motioned to a swinging door at the end of the hall. “While the thick walls and steel doors keep the walkers from gettin’ in, the ghosts ain’t got no problems floating through the walls, like your friend there did.”