Chapter 2

Sidenote from 2021: original URL for this post was http://zombie-storage.com/?p=89

An old trade route stretched out through patchwork woodlands. Leaves coated the ground in a thick soft layer of decaying foliage. The disused track was barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The track was probably formed by nomadic herders by the uniformity of the path. Thousands of herbivores were replaced by thousands of humans on this day. An army was on the move. A woman who was once known as Kkum found herself in a thick chain. They had been marching all night, with only the occasional stop were the man in front of her encouraged her to sleep if she would wake him up at the next stop. He said it had been three days for him since he was taken from his cottage in the far hills. They had kept a steady pace, not fast or slow but still back-breakingly difficult. The sack of looted grain was still above her tired shoulders, rubbing on her collar as she walked. Her feet ached. Her arm ached from the still slowly bleeding cut that selected her as a slave. Most of all, her head was seared from the hangover she was experiencing. The morning was torturous on her. The sun made her eyes weep. Her tears did not make it down her face, instead they stuck to her filthy cheeks. “You see that guard?” the man in front of her hissed, “He’s not as hard-arsed crazy as the other ones. I remember him from yesterday. He let me talk to the previous guy behind me. “We can talk if you want. Gods above, I want to talk. The prick in front of me is deaf or mute or foreign. Either way he don’t say too much.” His voice trailed off in thought or confusion before starting back up again, “My name is Thaddeus Longpines the Third but you can call me Thaddy. You do understand me, don’t you?” “Yes, I understand you, Thaddy.” “Well, that will teach me. I thought you were a man with the way you don’t pull me back with these accused chains. What do they call you then, girly?” Thaddy said with a slight spring in his step as if his body was experiencing a birthday party his voice wasn’t aware of. His red hair was long, tangled and matted to his back by sweat and slop from the slowly leaking small barrel over his shoulder. “I.. I… I… I don’t know anymore…” “It was horrible on all of us,” Thaddy paused again in quiet contemplation. A few brave birds could be heard in the distance unperturbed by the horde shuffling past them. “You need a name. Everyone has a name. I need something to call you. It just isn’t fair on me otherwise. How about Yan? I knew a pleasant girl by that name once, lived a league away. Daughter of a butter churner. Surely you have your reasons for not telling me your name. At least I hope you do. There is no reason for us not to be friends and we may be stuck together for quite a while.” Kkum wasn’t sure if Yan was really her name or if Kkum had ever been her name at all. Thinking about Kkum’s life brought back a sorrow into her heart and made her want to give up. She just had to signal a guard to end it all. But she remembered what she saw before dawn of an older man who asked for compassion, the brutality. Her head complained but appreciated the small kindness the strange burly man in front of her was giving her. The slaves beside them marched along glumly. They had wild eyes and unfamiliar features. Kkum/Yan had never seen anyone like that before and when she looked closely they would quickly look away from her. She didn’t know who was behind her, they had changed her to this chain soon after they joined the main road last night. Probably to split them up to stop plots, she thought. Or maybe she had just been allocated into someone else’s spoils. “Umm, no, we can be friends. I think. My head is just feeling the wrath of the drink today. Yan is a lovely name, you may call me Yan.” “Good. Good. Very good. I’ve been waiting for some company. The guy who was, ugh, behind me before you didn’t make it. He jumped from a bridged and almost dragged us all in after him.” “That’s awful,” Yan, she had decided would be her new name and her gateway to put her old life behind her. To forget and move on from the horrors of last night. Not that carrying a sack for an immeasurable distance seemed any better. It was unpleasant but it wasn’t agony, yet. “Yan, me dear, what shall we do? It’s a beautiful day isn’t it?” He was a very strange man, Yan though, but it broke the tedium. “My head is on fire.” “Oh, you poor thing. I forgot. Maybe it won’t be too much further. They have slept in the day since they caught me. At least there is no––” Thaddy was cut short by the crack of a whip. Some way in front of them a girl was struck across the face by the twisted leather. Skin was viciously torn from her flesh by the blow and her wail sent ripples of fear through the ranks of slaves. Silence enveloped the chained slaves unsure what her infraction was and terrified it could be them next. The girl picked up her burden and continued onwards attempting to suppress the pain from her flayed cheek. The guard grunted and the caravan resumed its pace. Thaddy was silent now and Yan was not keen to risk a matching wound. One foot before the other, she counted her steps to one thousand and then started again. Shadows were small beneath Yan now. She thought of herself by her new name, repeating it in her head as she walked. Even imagining conversations with Thaddy or the savages beside her where they called her Yan and she would reply. Her throat seized up sometimes when her lie fell through and she remembered what love felt like. Lost love ripped at her soul so hard the conversations she imagined were screaming at each other. She willed inane pleasantries to fill her mind. She even focused on her cuts and scrapes, attempting to amplify the pain in her mind to block out her recurring memories. She was Yan. Yan was her. Yan’s foot hurt from a shape rock she stood on 965 steps ago. She knew she could make it real because she was real. She had always been. A horn blared. The sound echoed through the valley. Softer horns answered the single long note followed by barked shouts in the guards tongue. People were stopping while others were being issued new orders. Confusion reigned. The guard near Yan grunted unknown orders at them but his thrusting hands, especially the one carrying that whip, made his intentions clear. Yan pulled on the chain with her neck, the unknown stranger behind her was uncertain. “We must move forward and to the left,” Yan hissed. No response. The chain slackened and they were moving onto the grass. They seemed to be following someone over the uneven ground. On her left her another chain of slaves was moving. On her right, from between the strange savages, she spotted the hammering brute, still coated in dried blood. She gasped. The Brute was leading three rows of slaves beside them. Yan now realised they had entered a clearing. The autumn sun bore down on them but the air was still cool. The Brute moved faster now, his followers were uncertain so they tried to match his pace. Some further from the front fell as their collars pulled tight. The ground was slightly damp and rocks shone through the tufts of wild grasses. The brute raised his arm. Other rows of slaves had flanked the Brutes followers. There must be thousands here, Yan thought. There were other guards and warriors too. Hundreds moving along the flanks now. Many with their armour removed and being carried by slaves without collars, some without clothing at all, who raced behind them. More warriors clustered around them now that they had halted. Yan could see at least twenty rows of slaves on her right. There was perhaps twenty slaves joined by single chains and several chains were following into the same formation under the watchful eyes of their controllers. Perhaps five thousand slaves were now gathered on the tussocks of grass between the sparse woodland leading up into the surrounding hills. Ahead she saw far more warriors, hundreds, possibly a thousand or more. She heard numerous slaves continuing to pour in from behind. The horn sounded again. Some slaves began to drop to the ground. Guard signalled downwards with their hands and whips. Yan sat and looked behind her. In the distant rear she could see thousands of slaves followed by at least one hundred horsemen and some strange beasts. She had seen pictures of some of them, those were called mammoths. Others she could not name. They seemed to be some sort of giant lizard topped with a howdah carrying a dozen warriors. Her heart sank lower. Escape was worse than futile, it was impossible. Their might was unmatched. She began to sob. “Yan, me dear. Do you remember? It is my turn to sleep first. Please remember. The guards will beat us both if we don’t get up fast when they want to leave,” and as quickly as he started speaking Thaddy was asleep. Yan stared back at the lumbering beasts behind her and waited in the afternoon sun.