This story takes place after the alternate ending to Army Of Darkness

DEADLANDS

This story takes place after the alternate ending to Army Of Darkness. For those of you who haven't seen it (Where have you been, under a rock?) the original ending was seen in every other country except the US, and was much darker. In it, our hero drinks one drop to many of the potion and sleeps for seven hundred years instead of six. He wakes up to a post-apocalyptic wasteland and is understandably upset. If you want to see it the clip is Quicktime posted at many fansites and is part of the DVD release.

Rated for ickiness and large numbers of rotting things.

Ash moaned, face in his hands, kneeling before the horror of what he'd found his future to be. "Too long..." He could feel his beard, his disheveled hair, the cobwebs that still clung to his shoulder and the rags his clothes had become. "I slept too long...god...no...damn it....wake up, I've got to wake up...all a nightmare...gotta be..." His unsettled mumbling dissolved into a choked sob.

He was on a bluff overlooking a city, futuristic, once glorious and beautiful--now a shattered and deserted husk. Ash could see a clock tower rising out of the rubble, the time of mankind's death frozen on its cracked face. All around it lay the decomposing buildings and burnt houses--and everywhere he looked there was bone. Shards of it in the sand at his feet, fractured skulls half buried beneath piles of pitted and rusting steel, cracked femurs protruding from every ruin and every derelict.

"Got to..." Ash gulped in a breath, and the air was thick with grit and the smell of old rot, "Got to think. Got to get back..." He looked down at the flask in his hand. He could sleep another hundred years, see how things went...

"No," Ash muttered, climbing to his feet. His shoes had disintegrated, and the splinters of bone and glass dug into his feet. "Slept to long already. Got to, I have to..." Ash looked around at the desert of the future. Do what? For once, he had no ideas. He blinked up at the setting sun, the clouds a strange red swirl. It filled him with a terror he couldn't identify--the sky was a bleeding, wounded thing. A hot wind blew, screaming between the skeletons of rusted automobiles and glassless windows. The shadows lengthened, and Ash listened to the sound of the wind. He was alone, all alone in this world...everyone he'd ever known was dead...

"No!" He began to scream, not caring that there was no one to hear him, "You don't win! You don't get to win, you bastards! I won't let you...do you hear me!?" Ash stumbled over a chunk of twisted metal, cutting the soles of his feet, then tripping and falling to his knees again. He hit the dirt hard, his hands digging into the sand. His gauntlet had rusted--he couldn't move it anymore. "Sons of bitches," Ash whispered, "I did it. I said the words," He talked to himself, staring at the ground and shaking. "Six? Was it six? Or seven? Maybe five? Couldn't have been the words, I said the words...dream, a bad dream…" But his hand was bleeding, he'd cut it on something. A thick piece of metal protruded from the shallow holes he'd made in the sand, and Ash grabbed it. It was a crowbar, and he yanked it from the earth and threw it hard in a sudden rage. It spun through the air and hit the side of a burnt-out car, bouncing off with the force of the throw and landing back at his feet.

"Sons...of..." Ash whispered, his voice dying, sanity drying up. No nightmare, no dream--only a harsh reality in which he was the last living thing on earth...

A low growl contradicted this last thought. Ash looked up and pushed back his ragged hair, his heart beginning to pound, the world coming back into focus. It was a strange growl, and it sounded like it was in stereo--there were claws scraping against metal, and a then dog poked its' head up from the front seat of the car Ash had dented with the crowbar. It was white and fuzzy, and a pink tongue protruded from its mouth.

"Hey boy," Ash spread out his hands, "Hey." The dog sniffed the air, then looked at him. It licked its snout and barked.

"No, I don't have anything to eat," Ash was vaguely relieved to have found something else alive, even if it was only a dog. It was even kind of cute. "C'mere," Ash snapped his fingers, "Here boy."

The dogs' lips peeled back, revealing a mouthful of crooked, rotting teeth. The tongue extended out further, the stalk darkening to black as it flicked at the air like a snakes'.

Ash reached down to the dirt and seized the crowbar, raising it. "Or maybe not."

Two more heads looked over the windowsill of the car, both growling--but they were deformed. Ash realized that the dog had three heads, the extra two sprouting like tumors from the throat of the first. They all began to snarl, jaws snapping hungrily.

"Down boy," Ash waved his rusted weapon, "Or boys. Whatever you want." The dog leapt out of the car, landing in the dirt and rust below. Its back was hunched, the matted and infested hair standing on end. Ribs were visible along its sides--the beast had not eaten in a long time. Ticks spotted the bald places on its hide, bulging and black with blood.

"Get outta here," Ash swung the crowbar, and the dog flinched, retreating slightly. "That's right. Go home, Rover. No dinner for you tonight."

Then the three heads howled, long and loud. It was answered by a dozen other howls, from all directions. Right away two more of the feral dogs emerged from the junkyards, flanking the first, which now snarled and took a step forward. One of the new dogs didn't have an extra set of heads; only a pair of skinless teeth snapping and drooling inside the first set of stained jaws.. The other dog had too many eyes.

"Okay," Ash took a step back, "Now, I'm new around here, so maybe we can think about this first..."

The three-headed dog leapt forward for Ash's neck, and he swung the crowbar and brought it down on the middle snout. The skull split with a crack and the other two heads screamed in pain. Then the other two leapt into the air, and behind them three more white beasts appeared, an entire pack of the hungry animals.

Ash swung his weapon with the sudden horrible thought that he did, in fact, have food for them to eat.

**

Jule spurred her horse onward, heels digging into its rotting sides. The cadaver whinnied and broke into a half-hearted run, crushing the stones beneath it with its pale white hooves. She kicked it again and it began to gallop, leaping over the broken walls and through the dark, long-deserted streets. Storefronts loomed on either side and the empty window sockets gazed down upon the living rider and her dead horse. Rusted shells of automobiles were piled high on the sides of every narrow street, and scattered among them were the shattered bones of the city's inhabitants. Thankfully, they were too damaged to ever walk the earth again.

The clock tower was still a mile distant, and the sun was setting. Above the rider the wide sky was a sick pastel of reds and purples. She wanted to be inside before dark. This particular city was not immune to the horrors that lurked in the land and sky, even if she was. Her horse would need shelter from the nocturnal evils. She rode past a broken storefront window, and saw her own pale reflection in it. Death rides a...

The traveler was only a street or two away from the tower when she heard the howling. At first she heard only a pack of hinterwolves, consuming another victim. Nothing interesting about that. Nothing she could do for it either--the white creatures killed quickly and mercilessly. But what caught her attention moments later were the screams of pain, the barks of anger and confusion. Whatever they'd cornered was fighting back. Jule rode over the rise, away from the cracked street and towards the commotion, expecting to see a cornered feral horse or a malebolgia.

A man, dressed in rags, was surrounded by the wolves. He swung a hooked metal bar at one, then aimed a powerful kick at another.

"No!" He was shouting, "No food! Bad dogs!" The wolves growled, circling their wild-eyed victim. Jule saw that he'd already killed one--the other members of the pack were consuming it, tearing the body to pieces. The stench of blood only excited the wolves--more and more often one would lunge at the man.

Well, he was brave, at least. What he was doing out here, without armor or weapons, was a mystery. No doubt about him being an idiot. But anyone who fought a pack of hinterwolves without backing down was a gutsy idiot. She unsheathed her spear from the saddle, and raised it above her head.

Jule spurred her mount forward, and screamed.

**

Ash ducked as a dog sailed over his head, then swung upwards hard at the soft belly. It shrieked it pain as he pulled a section of intestine from the deep rent it its body.

"Sorry, my bad," Ash yelled, then kicked it in the head for good measure. But he wasn't making any headway. More of the white things kept appearing, hideous and terribly hungry. Ash's heart pounded in his chest, and he took a deep breath as a group of four began to approach as one.

"You want a piece of me?" Ash growled, crowbar clenched in his fists, "You'll have to come and get it."

The dogs seemed to agree, and began to spread out, all of them in a circle around him, all of them closing in.

"Fine. You're going to get it all right," Ash snapped, head twisting from side to side so that he could keep an eye on them all, "You're going to get it right in the nu..."

Then the dogs stopped howling and barking, and a few of them began to whine. In the silence Ash tensed, waiting.

A scream broke through the silence, a high pitched wail like that of a possessed soul--but unceasing, a cry of anger and warning. The dogs didn't scatter, but a few of them turned to face the new threat, defending their right to a victim. Ash tried to edge away, but a huge dog covered in sores was blocking his way. He was so busy trying to get away from the savage animals he didn't notice the rotting horse bearing down on him, the way it smashed the wolves beneath its hooves, or the thin pale hand that reached down and seized him by the rags at his neck.

Ash managed to get out a surprised, "Wha...?!" before he was unceremoniously yanked upwards onto a saddle. Instinctively he wrapped one arm around the rider, flipping one leg over so that he wasn't riding sidesaddle. He smelled an icy, cold scent, but Ash lost it as a dog pursed him in a hungry rage.

"Get...lost!" Ash brought down the still-clenched crowbar hard, the pronged business end first. He felt it sinking into flesh, and a burst of fluid covered his arm and part of his saddle. The dog fell back, and Ash lost his grip on the crowbar, watching as it tumbled to the ground and was lost. The dogs chased them, but they were no match for the horse and the rider. Ash didn't speak, but clung to his strange rescuer as they plunged over and down the ruined landscape towards safety.

**

Ash paced pack and forth in the darkness of the clock tower, still heady on adrenaline. "I've got to wake up. None of this is real. Maybe I'm crazy, that could be it...I'm sitting in an asylum somewhere, screaming my head off...that would be better. Can't be reality--nuclear war wasn't supposed to happen for...forever. If it was real, everyone would be dead..." He choked on that, then looked up from his pacing at the rider who'd helped him out (she hadn't saved him; he could damn well take care of himself), and shook his head, finding a target for his despairing anger. "Do you ever talk?"

"Sometimes," She replied mildly, securing the reins and patting the horse on the nose. "When I feel I can speak coherently." Three of the mount's teeth fell out. Jule sighed and bent down, scooped them up, and jammed them back in. The decomposing horse whinnied happily. They were in the antechamber of the clock tower, the door shut and bolted. Outside the hinterwolves paced, but couldn't enter. Occasionally one would let loose an angry howl, but they became fewer and fewer as the wolves broke off to search for easier prey.

"What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm some crazy lunatic, don't you?" He turned on her. "For all I know you're a bad dream. Maybe I haven't woken up yet. You might not even exist, except in my head." He eyed her. "What the hell are you, anyways?"

"Not a dream by any stretch." She smiled faintly, "I'm fairly sure I exist, but I don't think I could prove it to you. Feel free to believe you're crazy. Most people I've encountered actually are. Madness is powerful protection." She stuck out her hand. "My name's Jule. I think it's nice to meet you, but you'll forgive me if I reserve judgement."

"Ash." He didn't offer his hand, but glared at her suspiciously. She shrugged and dropped her arm to her side.

The man began to pace again, thinking about what she'd told him. "Most people are crazy? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Most people are definitely insane. At least in every land I've ridden through. Where are you from?"

He told her. She nodded thoughtfully.

Ash blinked. "You believe me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You think I'm crazy."

"No, I don't. Like I said, I've met many people who've lost their minds, so I know the type. You're not crazy." He had a slightly manic look, like a man who'd seen too much in too short a time. Not crazy, just...desperate. And frightened.

"Coming from a hallucination," He seemed less tense.

"That's getting deeply philosophical. Not allowed around here." She began to unfasten bags and supplied from her saddle. "If it bleeds, or leaks, or screams, it's real. You're real. And I believe you," Jule shouldered her packs, "Which means you'd better stick with me, if you'd like to keep your skin."

"I pretty much know what happened up until a century ago," Ash furrowed his brow, then ticked off a few numbers on his metal hand. "Shoot, hold on for a second...five...six...yeah, about a century. But after that..." He glanced around the ruin of the clock tower.

Jule shook her head, "It doesn't really matter. The story's the same. The apocalypse came and went, sayonara humanity, it's been nice knowing you. I'd say the majority of the population went about fifty years ago. There are a few old timers who remember what happened, but I'm not one of them."

"So there are still people left? Besides you?" He looked relieved.

"In some places, hiding and fighting. They keep away from old cities like this, though. Too many ghosts."

"Yeah," Ash shivered and looked around at the empty sockets of the storefronts through the windows, "I noticed."

Jule frowned, then her face cleared. "No, I mean ghosts."

"What?" The man got that slightly unhinged look in his eyes, "You mean ghost ghosts?"

"You thought I was speaking metaphorically? Not in a million years. No, I mean nasty spirit things. Not as bad as the undead, but pretty scary nonetheless. That's why," Jule pointed to a door set back in one side of the wall, "We should get to the inside. It's safer there."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Ash made for the door, then stopped. "What are you doing?" Jule was talking to the fire. She waved her hands over the flames, through the flames, saying words he did not recognize.

"And I'm supposed to be the crazy one," muttered Ash. This was one weird chick, he could tell. He'd have to keep an eye on her.

Jule finished up her circle of protection, and took a burnt twig from the fire. She then stood, stretching her long limbs. Ash noticed she had ornate brands winding along her arms and neck. She turned to him, and in the twilight dusk the shadows on her face became sinister. Ash took a step back, suddenly nervous.

Jule gestured at the door. "Well? Aren't you going?"

Ash stuttered, then finally got it out. "After you."

"You're very strange, even if you are sane." She noted, then picked up her sack and pushed open the door to the clock tower. The woman paused to use the burnt twig to scrawl three circles on the entrance.

"What's that?" Ash asked, masking his discomfort.

"A charm. Keeps the baddies out. Get a move on, crazyman."

"It's Ash to you, lady."

"Whatever blows your skirt up." She disappeared inside, making for a badly tilted spiral staircase. Ash took one long last look though the windows at the wasteland that surrounded him on all sides. Nothing left, absolutely nothing at all. He felt that scream trying to get out again, but stuffed in back down. The last of the sun disappeared behind the horizon of burnt-out buildings, and a low wind began to blow.

Before he ducked inside, Ash noticed that the fire Jule (what kinda name was Jule, anyhow?) had built did not flicker or gutter out in the drafty breeze, but burned steadily and brightly as if there were no wind at all.

*

"All right, dollface, give it to me straight."

Ash sat down in a rusted metal chair. They had settled down for the night in the attic of the clock tower. The room was badly tilted, but Ash recognized it as a waystation of sorts. There were stored blankets and jugs of water, a few weapons and mysterious bottles piled up in one corner. No food, but he suspected the weird horselady had some in her pack. His stomach was seven hundred years empty, and he couldn't help but eyeball it every second or so.

Jule shrugged and told him. "I'm not much for dramatics, but basically the forces of evil have retaken the land. After the old war there was no one left to stop them. Things are pretty bad and have been for quite a long time." She tossed him a blanket from one of the shelves, "There are people who say it's not the whole world, that there are still places that are green." She trailed off, then looked up at the ceiling as a loud thump echoed through the small room. "But evil is one of those pervasive things, you know?"

"So you don't believe them." Ash listened as whatever had landed on the roof scratched at the shingles with large claws, hoping that wouldn't get past Jule's security.

"I'd like to think that there are better places," She said, a little sadly, "But I don't."

"Where are these other people?" Ash was about to grab the pack from where it lay by the door.

"Villages in the empty parts of the country. Souls so rotten and bitter the evil doesn't bother. I never stop through, unless I have goods to trade. I thank the gods I wasn't born in one." Jule followed his ravenous gaze to her pack. "You could just ask, you know." She went over and knelt by in, unsnapping the catch.

"Food." Ash seized the wrapped package she'd tossed him, and tore the paper off. He looked down and nearly cried with joy. "Beef."

"Um," Jule raised an eyebrow, "Actually it's…" She stopped speaking as he tore into the jerky hungrily.

"It's what?" He looked up at her, speaking around a mouthful of rat meat.

"It's…not all I've got." She amended, and went back into her pack. She could restock at the castle tomorrow, so she pulled the rest of the food out.

After a meal of beef(?) jerky, dried apples, and a pack of sugary, nutty things Jule would not identify, Ash felt better. He thought about things for a while, breathing deeply and watching the candles burning in the windowsills. Jule had lit them to provide some light, and the symbols carved into them suggested some kind of spells at work. Indeed, as Ash watched he saw that they didn't melt. This kid knew her stuff. Maybe she could teach him some tricks. He shelved that thought, thinking that he didn't intend to be here long enough. No way in hell.

The horselady herself was sewing up a hole in one of her shirts, humming softly. He took the opportunity to study the only person he'd encountered so far.

She was tall, young and looked well fed, but unpleasantly weird looking, as he'd noticed earlier. She had white hair that fell in messy waves to just below her ears. Her face was sharply angular, which gave her a sinister appearance, the pale skin pulled tight on her face. And her eyes were a brown so dark they were black. He wondered if all human beings looked like this.

Ash was, to some degree, grateful. The last time he'd landed in an unknown era the ruler had thrown him into a pit full of deadites. Not that he couldn't have taken care of himself. It was just better when you had someone around who knew the lay of the land. With her, it was simpler to find a way out. Really, he thought, all I've got to do is find someone who can send me back. I went back six hundred years once—a measly hundred should be a cinch. I can stick with this kid until I figure it all out.

But things are never simple, are they?

He quieted that voice quickly. Listening to it could very well drive him nutty, god knew he was close enough. And despite what his companion told him, he didn't really believe it was fashionable nowadays. He went back to watching her sew, so that he wouldn't think about it.

"Tell me," Jule looked up, "How you got here. Before the cave."

Ash stared into the darkness of the rafters, putting his hands behind his head. "It's a long story."

"Are you wanted in surgery or something? We have all night."

Ash sighed, then started to speak. He told her about the cabin, the book, Linda, Knowby's work and the tape recorder. He told her about Annie, and the vortex that opened up and sucked him back three hundred years, about Arthur and the army of the undead, and about Sheila. By the time he was done he had the rider's full attention, and the moon was high in the sky. Through a window he could see it, a red ball drenching the landscape with a bloody light.

"That's something," Jule murmured softly. She thought, privately, that he probably was crazy. While he had appeared out of nowhere, in the middle of nowhere, it didn't mean he was the Hero from the Skies. It was just odd; and Jule had seen to many odd things to count. Besides, half a dozen people in her lifetime had claimed to be the various Heroes. The Evil hadn't even had to bite them in half before it swallowed them whole. He didn't seem dangerous--she'd take him back and let the Brotherhood take care of it. "An interesting story."

"How come?" Ash scratched his face, and his hand encountered his unfamiliar facial hair. "Hmm."

"Not really important. Here," She dug around in her pack, and came up with a pair of sewing scissors, "Take these before you get lice."

"Thanks, I think." Ash leaned forward, "You got a mirror?"

"No. Wouldn't carry one of those things around if my life depended on it."

"A mirror? What's wrong with a mirr…oh," Ash began to work on his beard, "I'd forgotten." The scissors were tiny but sharp, the blade handles shaped like crocodile jaws. He took great care as he trimmed.

She went back to patching up her extra shirt, but it wasn't long before something occurred to Ash. Something about what she'd said.

"Wait a minute, kid. If you're not from the villages, where did you come from?"

"Well, you see, Ash, when a man likes a woman very, very much…" Jule grinned, and Ash snorted. But something in his chest loosened a little. She wasn't all bad. And that meant that maybe the earth wasn't, either.

"My sister explained that to me when I was ten. What I meant was, where were you raised?"

"In an old castle to the north of here. A bunch of monks calling themselves the Brotherhood predicted the end of the world would come, and had the whole place blessed and sanctified. They take in orphans, vagrants, and the occasional deadborn. Good place, hell of lot better than the villages. If you decide to come with me, that's where I'm going."

"It's not exactly like I have a whole lot of choices, kid. You'd better believe I'm coming with you." Ash didn't pick up on the odd word deadborn right away. "But if it's so great, why are you out here wandering around?"

"My father is a wiseman," Jule noted that Ash glanced up, "He needed malebolgia teeth for a potion he's making, so he sent me out to get them."

"Malebolgia? Doesn't sound like a walk in the park." Ash's mind was working into overdrive. Wisemen. A castle to the north that knew the future…he was going back to where he'd started.

"No, it wasn't." Jule held up a hand that was missing its left index finger, "But it was important."

"Yeah, I see…" Ash wasn't really paying attention. "What's your dad's name?"

"John. Actually he's my adoptive father."

Ash could've hugged her. It was all coming together. He'd ride with this chick to the castle, explain who he was, show 'em the flask or the gun or whatever they needed to see, and they could send him back. Back home. Same old song and dance.

"You look happy," She cocked her head, fingers still working, "Was it something I said?"

"You have no idea, baby. I'm so happy I could kiss you right now."

"Not a good idea. You've got about half a beard left to go. But can I ask what's prompted this sudden change?" The change from a madman into a dancing sane man with half a fuzzy rug on his face wasn't great, but she was mildly impressed by his resilience.

"Things are finally looking up for me. And its' about damned time, if you get my drift."

Jule nodded, putting her shirt away and leaning back against her pack. "Glad to hear it, I suppose. Care to elaborate?"

Ash began to explain his plan. But about halfway though he saw Jule's face getting somber. By the time he was done he didn't want to hear what she was going to tell him, whatever it was. "I didn't think of something, right?"

"Actually, there's good news, bad news, and really bad news."

I knew it, thought Ash, I goddamn knew it. "Good news first."

"The Book Of Dead Names could easily send you back a hundred years to your time. It's still floating around."

"Well," Ash relaxed a little, "That's really good news, then."

"The bad news is that the Book is currently floating around in the possession of the Evil One, who rules the land across the western sea."

Ash scrambled to remember his grade school geography. "You mean the Atlantic? Crap." He put his face in his hands. "What's the really bad news?"

"You've got to be the Evil One himself to use to Book, even if you managed to steal it from him or one of his lesser forms. If you wanted to cast a spell yourself, you'd have to kill them all first."

Ash remembered, a lifetime ago, a massive toothy head with one glaring eye and a cancerous lump of tortured souls where the other should have been. He recalled his soul almost being torn forcibly from his body, his mind hanging on by a mere thread to a questionable sanity. And now he had to kill it?

Ash grinned. "Not a problem."

**

"Open up!" Jule called up to the battlements.

Ash looked around at the eerily familiar building, and the alien landscape it had been dropped into. The castle appeared much as it had seven hundred years ago, except over centuries he had slept it had been built upon by the people who had lived and died inside. There were modern looking windows in a few places, the faint sound of a generator, and even a rusted, broken television antenna protruded from one of the towers.

But the land around had changed. Once nothing but empty plains had surrounded the massive building. Now mountains surrounded the castle; mountains made of steel and glass. The twisted forms stretched off to the horizon, making the castle tiny amid the skeletons of the apocalypse. He and Jule had ridden for hours through the valleys and mountains of ruin before reaching the castle. Ash had found that his world's future was nothing more than a junkyard of the past.

"Who goes there?" Cried out a husky voice in a thick English accent. Ash looked up and saw a guard peering over the battlement wall. In a moment of discord Ash realized he was wearing a worn Yankees baseball cap and carrying a battered sword.

"Who the hell do you think, George?" Jule yelled back, "Now open the door."

"I need the password!" The man sported a short beard and a wide, easy smile.

"George, I've got a vagrant, a splitting headache, and my horse is falling apart. I haven't got time for this."

"Password!" He grinned further.

"If you let me in now I won't kill you."

There was silence from the guard. Then the portcullis began to lower itself. Jule spurred the horse ahead and Ash held on tightly as they crossed the moat that had been dug around the walls of the castle. Looking down, he saw thick, scummy water and fleeting shadows of whatever lived beneath it.

They reached the entrance and rode into the dusty courtyard, and the guard came to meet them.

"That was a good password." George took the reins of the horse as Jule dismounted. Ash followed a moment later.

"George, this is Ash. He's going to stay with us for a while."

"Bringing home strays now, Jule? Not kosher." George gave Ash the evil eye, "How do we know the fellow's not a ganger?"

Jule rolled her eyes. "I can tell."

"I'm not questioning the nose, Jules my darling, but dirty vagrants ain't exactly our responsibility, you know?"

"Look buddy," Ash stepped forward, finding an outlet for his anger. "I didn't ask for this. I've had a really shitty two-thirds of a millennium, and I don't need some post-apocalyptic screwhead messing with me. Got it?" He was nose to nose with George at this point.

"Uh...yes."

"Yes what!?" Ash shouted.

"Yes sir!" George took off, leading Jule's horse towards the stables.

Ash snorted. "Some things never change."

"Well done. In five minutes the whole castle will know you've arrived." The rider shouldered her pack.

"Damn straight. I'm back and I'm bad. In a good way," he added, turning back to Jule.

"Depends on your definition of good. Come on, let's go." She turned and walked away.

"Where are you taking me?" Ash caught up with her.

"The storerooms. Unless you'd like to meet the ladies of the castle in your current attire."

Ash chuckled, suddenly in good spirits. "You read my mind, baby."

"It's not that difficult."

*

Jule left him in the storerooms to pick out his clothes.

"We don't have a whole lot," She observed, "But there should be something in there." Jule herself wore brown leather pants with many patches. Her shirt was patched as well, and her long coat was missing one sleeve. For some reason, her shabby outfit drove the point home better than she did. After she left Ash began to root through the meager selection.

There were many children's clothes. A few were bloodstained. Ash didn't dwell to long on that. There were dresses, which he almost skipped, but he came upon a denim one with almost no holes. He dug around in his rags and found the scissors Jule had lent him. In no time at all he had a denim shirt. Good deal. Pants were harder, but he eventually found a good set, and some worn boots. He didn't take anything else.

He locked the storeroom behind him, and went to find Jule. She said she was going to talk to her father about the Book for him, but where was that?

A couple of scrawny kids ran by.

"Hey," he called to them, "Can you tell me where I can find the wisemen?"

"In the towers," replied the thin girl. She had red hair that needed a comb.

"Ya," the boy nodded, "Keep goin that way." He had no shoes.

"Thanks," Ash nodded, and watched them go. Jule had said this was a good place. If that was true he hated to think what the villages were like.

Soon he was lost in the halls; they'd been rearranged so much he didn't recognize anything. Everywhere he looked there were doors, more hallways, sometimes a window that never looked out onto what he expected. Symbols had been both burnt and carved into every surface available--it was a riot of designs. Weird place, but they calmed him somehow. The Brotherhood probably knew its stuff. If these symbols held any power, right now he was in the safest place in the world.

He heard joyful shrieking coming from down the hall. Ash rounded a corner, and found himself exactly where he'd started. The two kids were even there, and a third had joined them. Well, "joined" in a loose sense, thought Ash.

The two he'd seen before were holding a crying third child down, giggling.

"Say it," The boy twisted the third's arm, "Say it!"

"I won't," yelped the third, a small boy. "You can't make me, ow...stop it!"

"Knock it off," yelled Ash, startling all three. The two let the third go, their faces letting Ash know that they knew they'd been caught doing something bad. He took a step forward. "Now git!" They took off down the corridor.

"You okay, kid?" Ash walked over to where the boy was sitting, and noticed he had that weird white hair, like Jule. Blue eyes, almost silver. He didn't know she had kids.

The kid rubbed his arm. "I hate them."

"Yeah, well, kids are kids."

"They say I'm not a kid. They do it all the time." The kid looked about to cry. Ash sighed. He'd hated babysitting at the neighbors' when he was a teenager, and he didn't like this much better. In the back of his head it occurred to him that his neighbors were most likely dead. He stopped that train of thought before it could start in on his family.

Ash looked around, and saw no one. "Where's your Mom, cowboy? Why don't you tell her?"

The kid glared up at him hatefully, then burst into tears. "You're mean!"

"What did..." But the kid was up and running, off down the hallway. "Huh. Weird kid." Just like his mother.

*

"I don't have any children." Jule was frowning at him. They were sitting at the banquet table, Ash having found his way to the courtyard after wandering for what had felt like several miles. Now they sat in the communal dining room at a table made of many wooden doors nailed together. Everything in the castle had the same jury-rigged look--while wandering Ash had found a fireplace made out of a television set.

"But he looked..." Ash fell silent as a robed Brother stood to speak at the head of the table.

"Let us thank the gods for this bounty," The Brother gestured with a goblet of water, "And thank them for another day of life, free of the evil on the outside. We thank them for the safe return of one of our sisters, and for the safe arrival of another vagrant. May your souls live freely for all of forever."

"Seems like an okay guy," Ash whispered.

"He's the head of the Brotherhood. Arthur. A lot of people think he can see the future."

Ash twitched slightly at the name. It figured. "Can he?"

"Don't know. I think he's just got a lot of common sense."

Ash watched in amazement as a group of brothers brought in plates and trays piled high with food.

I might not be king here, Ash thought to himself, but I could definitely get used to this. He was happily digging into what looked like a pile of Cornish hens when he noticed a Brother directly across the table glaring at Jule. He snuck a peek at her and saw that her head was bent low over her plate. Looking around the table Ash saw that more than a few people were shooting looks in their general direction. Most were curious and furtive, but a few were openly hostile. Jule didn't raise her head.

"Jule, what's..."

"Ignore it," Jule mumbled, "Always happens the first night I'm back."

"But I don't get it." Ash kept his voice low. Someone took the seat next to him, and Ash glanced over. It was the guard from earlier in the day, still sporting the Yankees cap.

"Yeah," George spoke loudly. "That's right. Ignore them, the buggers. Ain't got no manners or respect, that's what." A few of the onlookers looked away, embarrassed. But a few brows darkened. George made faces at them.

"Now, George," Brother Arthur looked up from his plate, "Let us have a peaceful meal this night."

"Ay, no appreciation," George mumbled, then to Ash. "Best damn fighter here, and they's all got their panties in a bunch about her bein' a deadborn. Like she'd eat'em alive or something."

Ash had heard that word before. "What's a deadborn?" A few people nearby turned their heads in curiousity.

"What?" George huffed, "Where you been, Mars?"

"Look, mister..." Ash glared at him dangerously.

"Okay, okay..." George put up his hands in defense, then speared himself a chunk of meat with a fork made of nails wired together. "Deadborns are people who's mum was a deadite."

All of a sudden Ash felt ill. "A what?"

"You know what I'm talking about. Bad spirit gets into their mothers before they're born. Kinda turns em, but not quite. Still got good souls."

Abruptly Jule got up and left the table. A murmur ran through the table, but quickly subsided as people began to eat and talk amongst themselves.

"Ay, I don't see what the big deal is," George shook his head, "Sometimes I'd give my left arm to be one of 'em."

"Why?" Ash was still a little stunned. Shit, I was starting to really like her.

"Well, they can't be possessed. Good chips, that one. And you can lop off a limb and they just put em right back on again. Odd creatures."

"So she's a deadite?" Ash couldn't help but be disgusted. He'd been right about her looking creepy--she was.

George shrugged and stuffed a potato into his mouth. "Not really. Breathes, eats, all'a that. Doesn't sleep, not that I can tell. Never seen it, anyways. But they'll kick your ass from here to next Sunday, mate. Little moody, but I think," His voice rose so that the table could hear him, "It's cause some bloody people can't keep their eyes were they belong..."

"George," Brother Arthur didn't even look up this time.

"Christ, all right. Anyways," George grabbed a pitcher and filled up his cup. "Don't let it bug you too much. Good heart in her, good head on the shoulders. Most of these fellows woulda left you in the City to rot. I know I would've. Remember that."

Yeah, Ash thought, but a deadite?

*

Ash knocked on the door that George had given him directions to. Everyone lived in this one area, a sort of underground dormitory, he'd explained. Families got the older, bigger rooms nearer the surface. In fact, most of the newer parts of the castle were underground. Ash had estimated the population of the castle at about two hundred people. Almost no single, available women to his great dismay. They seemed to get snapped up pretty quickly by the overwhelming majority of men.

Smokeless torches illuminated the stone hallway, and Ash thought absently that it was if he'd never left the past.

He raised a hand to knock on the door. What are you doing? a voice in his head spoke, It's a deadite, the same kind of thing that killed Linda and almost killed you.

Not the same Ash told it, She might have saved my life. Not as if he would admit it. But it was doubtful he'd have made it out of the city alive without her. Or with his soul intact. And it wasn't if he had a whole lot of alternatives. Ash knocked on the door.

"Come in," said Jule's voice, "It's not locked."

Ash entered, and found Jule standing over the shoulder of an elderly man seated at a small table. There was a scroll spread out before him, and more scrolls and sheaves of paper scattered throughout the room.

"Good," Jule smiled, "I'm glad you're here. This is Brother John."

"Great," Ash nodded shortly, then to Jule, "Can I talk to you alone?"

"I thought you'd want to talk to him first," Jule looked uncomfortable, "He's a wiseman, and the only one here knows anything about the Book of Dead Names."

"Oh," Ash rearranged his thoughts, "Sorry, bro."

"Quite all right. Most fine," The wiseman nodded and adjusted his thick glasses. "Jule tells me you claim to be the Promised one of seven hundred years ago."

"Well, yeah," Ash shuffled his feet, "I know it sounds a little nuts but..."

"Oh no," The wiseman sniffled, and poked a finger at the scroll, "It's all here in the prophecy scrolls, concerning the return and arrival of the four Heroes."

"Man," Ash, relieved that he wouldn't have to prove it, looked around and finally took a seat on Jule's cot. "I can't tell you how much I hate prophecies." He wasn't sure what the "Four Heroes" jazz was all about, but the guy seemed to know what he was talking about.

"You won't like this one much either," Jule was reading the scroll. "It's pretty cryptic."

"Yes, well," Brother John ran his fingers across the lines, "I never ran across one that wasn't."

"Give it to me straight," sighed Ash, "What kind of hell is this prediction going to put me through?"

"Hrm," coughed the wiseman, "Well, it's a bit vague, but here you go. It is referenced under the Rise of Souls, and speaks of the turning point of the war between good and evil."

Ash shook his head. "Turning point? Which way does it go, good or bad?"

"Doesn't say."

"Figures."

"Yes, hm, well, what it does say is right here, under the passage titled Return Of The Hero From The Sky…

Ending the ancient slumber,

To be one of the bright

Reflections of the revelations four,

Ride the winds and rivers of bone

The ancient home of the dead,

And destroy the seven

To return the fated pair."

The wiseman stopped. "That's it."

"That's it?" Ash groaned. "Man oh man."

"Looks like there's a part missing from the end there." Jule pointed to a hole in the parchment, "Any idea as to what it said?"

"I'm afraid not," the wiseman looked over his spectacles at Ash, "But the scrolls name four heroes, four reflections, as it were, and you are one of them, the Candarian hero."

"I'm not a hero, pops. I just wandered into the woods. And that's something that could have happened to anyone."

"But it didn't." Jule cocked her head. "It happened to you."

"Look, lady, I did my part. I don't belong here. I drank too much potion, or messed up the words..."

"So fate wouldn't have a part in it?" Jule raised an eyebrow.

"Fate can suck my..."

"Come with me." Jule picked up a lantern from beside her bed.

Ash glared at her in irritation. Even the good deadites get under my skin. "What if I don't want to?"

"I'll feed you to my horse."

"I'd like to see you try." But he got up, and so did Brother John, rolling his scroll into a neat bundle.

"I am one of the few privy to the castle library, as many of the things inside are of great delicacy. So I apologize for my daughter's previous skepticism concerning the validity of your tale."

"Did you swallow a thesaurus or something, Pops? Cause I didn't catch a word of that."

"I didn't believe you before," translated Jule, leading them out into the hallway and down the flickering corridor, "Now I do."

"Why the sudden faith?"

Jule was silent as they walked, and Ash asked no more questions. She seemed a little edgy, and he wasn't sure exactly why. He was still thinking about it when they walked into the main hall. It was full of junk that all served some kind of utilitarian purpose. Things were wired to other things that were nailed to still other things. Automobiles, scaffolding, even an airplane being used as some kind of heating system, all of broken, yet somehow all of it working.

"Nice," Ash noted dryly, "Goes with the rest of the place."

"We do what we can," Brother John replied acidly, "I would be interested in viewing your handiwork in a similar long-term situation."

Ash glanced at Jule. "Translation?"

"You haven't lived here for the past fifty years, so shut up." Jule crossed the hall filled with junk and came to a set of carved oaken doors. "This is the library." The wooden door had been carved into a battle scene, with tiny people fighting tiny skeletons with guns and axes, against the backdrop of a city. The clock tower was in the center, split in half by the edges of the doors. Jule pushed them open and the two men followed her in.

It had the musty smell of age that all libraries had, the smell of stale parchment and settling dust. Bookshelves towered on either side of the long, tunnel-like room. Ash looked up at the ceiling. This had once been the blacksmith's shop, in times past. On the far end, where he'd once turned an Oldsmobile into a machine of destruction, was some kind of churchy thing. He was filled with an eerie sense of déjà vu.

"Go on," Jule gave him a gentle push on the shoulder, "Check it out."

"If you say so. But I'm doing this under severe duress." Ash began walking towards the end of the room. As he walked he noticed stone busts decorating the occasional space in the shelves. He read the names as he walked. St. Dismas. St. Jude. St. George. St. Joseph. After what seemed like a long time he finally arrived at the end of the room, which was a semi-circular apse. In the center was a raised altar.

No, it's not an altar he realized, It's a tomb.

Shelia. Sheila's tomb.

He'd seen her three days ago. Now he saw her name carved on the front, with a surname. Pendragon. It wasn't fair. She was still alive, he'd saved her from the evil, gone through a war to get her back. But she was still dead. Ash sank to his knees. It's not fair.

He tilted his head back, to stem the tears. He was stronger than this, he had more of a spine than this. But as he looked up he was too startled to keep thinking that.

"It's funny," Said Jule's voice, "You're much taller in person. And you look better when you shave." She had come to stand behind him.

Ash opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. He finally managed to get the words out. "That's...that's me?"

"It's the Hero from the Skies. The one the left is Arthur, Shelia's husband. We don't know who the other is."

"It's Henry The Red."

"Ah. Well," She shrugged, "That answers that, then."

Ash and Jule were both looking at a painting behind the tomb of Arthur's queen. It was huge, with an ornate frame, painted in a Romanesque style. The canvas was cracked and yellowed around the edges, but well preserved in the cool air.

The Hero of the Skies was standing, as a general would, with one foot atop a pile of crushed skulls. In one hand he held a shotgun, in the other a sword in a gauntleted fist. On either side of him Arthur and Henry brandished swords, looking appropriately fierce. In the background an army of men drove back the enemy, a glorious and heroic scene. The artist had even added the Oldsmobile, a tiny yellowish dot crushing the dead before it. The painting was beautiful.

"It wasn't like that," Ash was speaking, almost to himself. "It was more like hell. And I never, ever had a halo."

"Artistic license. But it proves you're the real deal. Either that, or you're an amazing imposter who's cut off his right hand."

"I'm the real deal, babe. Hate to admit it," Ash went back to staring at Sheila's tomb. "So she married Arthur, huh? She always did have a soft spot for jerkoffs."

"She eventually became Queen, after he died. History books say she was known widely for her kindness and beauty."

"Yeah," Ash murmured, "I can see that. Seems about right." He shook his head, then stood up. "I can't really feel bad, you know? The kid did good for herself."

"Yes, she did." Jule waved her hands at the rows and rows of books. "She started this library. It's the reason the Brotherhood was able to prepare for the end of the world. Saved us all, if you think about it."

"I try not to." Ash stood up, "So I'm one of these four Heroes. Huzzah for me. But where," He gestured around him, "Are the other three guys?"

"According to John and the castle seer, there's you," She ticked off one of her fingers, "Then there's the Hero of Souls, the Hero of Bones, and the Hero of the Sands. Skies, Sands, Souls, Bones. Get it?"

"I get it. What it means I don't know."

"Neither does anyone else. That's the point. I think," She lowered her voice conspiratorily, "That the oracles just like to screw with our heads."

Ash snorted, then chuckled. "Of all the things I've heard today, that's the only one I'm absolutely sure of."

*

Night had fallen. The entire castle was quiet, the torches on the battlements leaping in the cold wind. Ash sighed at the spear he'd been given, and made sure the short sword was secured tightly to his back. Not exactly a shotgun. He'd given the remains of his Remington, armor, gauntlet, and chainsaw to Brother John, who had promised to try and get them working again. He'd insisted that he needed to retrieve them the morning they had left the castle. And apparently, when evil had spread through the world, magic, good old-fashioned bippity boppity boo type stuff, had started to work again. Good thing for humanity. And his ruined chainsaw.

He wrapped a ragged blanket tighter around his shoulders, the angry wind howling around the towers and whipping his hair around. Ash found himself wishing he'd kept his beard--it would have provided some warmth.

Sentries were placed at intervals of twenty feet during the night, to keep an eye on the things both in the air above and the land below. His first night, and Ash had drawn sentry duty. Oh well. It was better than latrine duty. Around his throat was Linda's necklace--Brother Arthur (no relation, he'd assured Ash) had painted a tiny trio of circles on the glass, explaining that having a sentry suddenly trying to eat the other sentries was generally considered a bad thing. So he was safe, as far as his soul was concerned. But still, he kept looking out into the dark night, at the sky with no stars. There was the moon though, hanging in the sky like a bloody eye.

Twenty feet away George let out a loud snore, hat pulled down and feet propped up on the stone battlements. Twenty feet the opposite way, Jule was dropping bits of inedible food scraps into the moat below. Ash could see dark shapes rising from the water and falling back in with a splash. Occaisionally there was the bright flash of teeth.

"Is that a good idea?" He called out quietly.

"Shh," She put a finger to her lips suddenly, listening. Ash fell silent, not hearing anything. Jule gestured at him to come over, and he did so. Standing next to her thin form, looking out into the dark, Ash could hear a low moaning sound. It didn't sound good.

"What is it?" He hissed. Jule pointed to a lump at the edge of the glow the protective torches cast. The moaning was coming from it, and it shambled at the line between light and dark. It was about twelve yards from the edge of the moat. "See it?"

Ash squinted against the wind. "Yeah."

"A walker," She said quietly, "A possessed person."

"What are we supposed to do?"

"Wait. There's only one."

"There could be more."

"No, there's only one."

Ash felt a chill that wasn't the wind, and he looked over at her pale face, framed by wavy hair that was white as bone. "You can tell, can't you?"

She gave him a bemused glance. "I pull sentry duty every night. I doubt it's a coincidence."

With a screech the walker stumbled into the light, howling up at the sentries. It was badly decomposed, the remains of a rotten bathrobe dangling from a skeletal frame. A bright pink curler hung from the last few clumps of hair attached to its skull, and Ash could just make out the filthy shapes of a pair of worm bunny slippers on its feet.

"Dead you're all dead, by dawn, all dead, swallow you all...what once was and now is again, all over, you are dead already..."

Over the wind Ash heard somebody shout ill temperedly from the courtyard stables. "Will someone shut that thing up, for Christ's sake?"

Jule sighed and removed the bow from her shoulder. Ash watched as she dipped an arrow into a flask of water tied to her belt, then took aim. She released the shaft with a twang.

It flew straight and impaled the thing neatly between the eyes. Abruptly the string of word ceased, and the white milky eyes bulged from their sockets. An instant later its head exploded, bits of meat hitting the castle walls and slowly falling into moat.

"Yow," Ash crossed his arms, impressed despite himself. "What's in the drink?"

"Salt, silver nitrate, and the ritual blessing of a priest."

"Holy water. Sweet." He watched as the amphibious things in the moat crawled out and began dragging bits of the corpse into the dark waters surrounding the castle. "So," Ash turned his back to the moat and faced Jule. "How are you?"

She stared at him like he'd grown another head. It occurred to him that it wasn't unheard of. Jule gave him a confused look. "What are you talking about?"

"You were kind of upset at dinnertime. Just checking up." Well hot damn, aren't you Mr. Sensitive tonight?

"Oh, that. It's just a little hard, the first night I come back from a ride. I forget how it is, what I am to other people." She brushed it off.

"What are you?" As if he didn't know.

"I'm a deadite. You know exactly what I'm talking about," She cut him off when he opened his mouth to protest. "It's okay, Ash. I'm used to it. You've treated me like someone else ever since George told you."

"Have not." he said automatically. But he knew he had. She was a deadite, for god's sake, not a person. Not the person who'd saved him. Not the person who'd fed him and told him about the world he'd fallen into, eased his fears and protected them both from the horrors of the Evil. Not the person he'd ridden with this morning as the sun had come up, and the thing he'd held on to more tightly as he'd begun to clearly see the nightmare the future had become.

Ash was about to speak, to explain and give her an excuse, when a scream ripped through the night air as a winged nightmare erupted from the clouds.

"Beast!" shouted a sentry, "Archers, up!"

Ash turned and saw it, illuminated by the guttering torches, a bleeding monster that cut through the air with all the grace of a stone. Wet liquid splattered on the stones around him, and he looked up to see a fat cancerous belly. Jule had already gone down on one knee and released an arrow, and it whistled past him and upwards into the night, striking the beast where the wing joined the lumpy body. It howled, and instinctively Ash jabbed upwards with his spear at the sound. Amazingly the spear found purchase in the thing's stomach, and he understood that Jule's arrow had made it tumble out of the sky, but that meant it was angled right at her...

"Get down!" He roared at her, ducking and trying to push her out of the way, but it was too late. The edge of the monster's wing hit her throat, and a horrified Ash watched as his friend's head was cut cleanly from her body. She didn't even have time to scream. She stood on its own for a moment, then tumbled lifelessly to the stones of the battlement, a strange thick blood leaking from her neck. Too late, Ash.

"No!" Ash screamed at the beast, at the evil that had made it, "You understand me you bastard? Not again!" The beast howled at him as a dozen arrows hit its back and stomach, and then it hit the dirt of the courtyard, thin legs snapping. Sentries came at it from all directions with ropes and swords, yelling orders. In the light of the courtyard the details of the thing's body were frightfully clear. Its lumpy central mass was composed of rotting corpses, eyes and limbs still visible, still begging to be killed. The sentries obliged quickly, driving swords and homemade spears into screaming faces. At the front end of the mass were two bulging white eyes, topping off a mouth like a toothy wound. Leathery, slime-coated wings flapped frantically as stakes were driven into it and tied to the earth. Men shouted orders, and swords had soon reduced them to bleeding shreds. Ash had run down the battlement steps and was among them, hacking away at the creature's body.

"I...am...so...tired...of...this...crap!" He punctuated each word with a powerful swing of the sword. Ash took a final swing and the beast's head fell to the earth, jaw gaping and tongue lolling uselessly. He kept hacking at it, long after it was dead.

Finally he stopped, aware of the sentries' eyes on him. He lowered his sword, panting, his anger spent.

"Bad day," He muttered, dropping his weapon and walking towards the doors to the main hall.

"Hey! Hey!"

Ash turned but didn't stop walking away from the battlements. It was George. "Where the bloody hell you think you're going?!"

Ash snapped at the man. "I'm going to go tell John his daughter's dead, you screwball. Go away."

"Julies' dead? What happened?" George frowned. Ash shook his head incredulously. George had been twenty feet away. What the hell was wrong with this guy?

"Her goddamn head got taken off. I saw the whole thing."

"It was great, George, you should have seen it."

Ash stood stock still, a slow shock creeping into his spine. The man who had spoken was a young, one-eyed boy by the name of Michael.

"Really?" George rubbed his chin, "How'd it happen?"

"Wing clipped her right in the neck. Head went flying down right into Jerome's face, blood everywhere. Scared the shit out of him. Spec-freaking-tacular."

Ash was too angry to speak. He was about to spit out the curses to hurl at the two of them when George turned to him. "Well, come on, we'd better get her body." He left Ash standing there, gaping. Ash turned his head and spotted Jerome over by the beast's corpse. The boy had blood dripping off his shirt, just below his neck. Jule's blood. He shook his head.

"This has to be a nightmare," In fact, the courtyard, lit by flames and with the stench of rot and blood in the air, began to look the part. Workers were already cutting up the beast, piling it into carts to be buried outside the castle grounds. Ash felt the thin tendrils of panic entering his mind. These people were mad, the last real person, yes she was a person, dead right in front of his eyes, and they were laughing about it...

"Hey Ash! Catch!" Jerome's voice.

"Don't you dare! Put me down, you idiot!" A voice. A familiar voice. Ash looked up, and saw a shape hurtling toward him. Automatically he reached up to catch it.

Jule's head looked up at him. "If you drop me, Ash, I'll kick your butt."

Ash screamed and dropped her.

"Not cool!" shouted Jerome, running over, "Fumble at the goal line."

"I am not a football." Jule commented icily, "Now go get my body so that I may open up a great big ol' can of..."

"You're alive!" Ash yelled, "How can you be alive!?"

"You didn't know?" Jerome skidded to a halt and paled, "Oh, man, I'm sorry. I must have scared you." He bent to pick up the woman's still-living head, who immediately tried to bite him.

"No shit, Sherlock." Ash looked at Jule's bodiless head, who looked right back at him curiously from Jerome's arms. Her neck dripped a bright red.

"What?" She started to grin, "Didn't you know you can't keep a good deadite down?"

*

"My throat is killing me." Jule winced as George wound bandages around her neck.

"There's a surprise," Ash muttered, nursing the vodka that Jerome kid had apologetically provided from his hip flask.

"Oh stop it. You're acting like you're the one who lost his head." She put her hands over her ears and adjusted herself slightly, the severed spine coming together with a grating click. "Come to think of it, you were."

"Well sorry!" He snapped, "It's just that I don't see people survive a beheading every day." Last one was Linda, I think.

"Well I am a half-deadite, Ash. A little thing like being decapitated doesn't stop them. You should know that."

"But you're..." He fumbled around for the right word. Dead alive?

"Not quite entirely unlike a deadite," George interrupted helpfully, "That's what's important." He thought for a moment. "You really must've thought me and Michael were callous bastards."

"I almost lopped your heads off." Ash began to chuckle, the vodka eating away at the lunacy of the world he'd stumbled into.

"For my sake? I'm flattered." Jule picked out a few bits of dirt from her bone-white hair. "But really, I'm okay. By morning I won't even have a scar."

"Like I said," George said, reaching over and helping himself to a little of Jerome's vodka, "Sometimes I would give an arm to be one a' them. Lose an arm, stick it back on. Lose a head, play a little ball, screw it back on. Its' a good deal, I'm telling ya."

"I think some would disagree." But Jule smiled.

"They can go to hell," George raised his glass, "Cheers to them."

Ash raised his glass. "Cheers."

*

The castle's seer cackled and hobbled to her covered looking glass. "Hero or not, you'll never make it on your own."

"I'll be amazed if I make it at all, grandma. Just tell me what I need to do." Ash rubbed his forehead, the last vestiges of a hangover pounding against his skull. It was too early in the morning for crazy old women and prophecies that were out to get him.

The hag peeked behind the covering at the mirror, then dropped it back into place. "Hmm. You know what you have to do. What'll you need, well, that's a different question, you see."

"Fine. I'll take the bait. What do I need?"

The castle seer grimaced at him, then gestured for him to sit. "A night rider's markings, for one. To save your soul for battle alone."

Ash sat in the weathered wooden chair impatiently. "Yeah, okay. I'll get me some markings down at the drugstore. What else?"

"Two champions, one martyr, four horses, I see near. Ride always to the west, the far west." She was drooling a little, stirring a black fluid in a pot on her makeshift stove. "I see far, three companions, great dangers; a place of healing that is anything but, and a dark bargain to regain a thing that was never lost."

"What does all that voodoo mean? Look, all I want to know is if I should ride out alone."

"Ayai, with brains like that, no. You'll need people who can listen to people like me." She took a thin metal rod from the pot. It was dripping with the black fluid.

"I didn't come visiting to be insulted, grandma. Old Arthur told me it was a good idea. I'd just as soon walk outta here."

"Bite down." She stuck his upper arm with the rod, and the fluid burned into his flesh.

*

"What the hell is that noise?" Jule listened to the screaming drifting up through the courtyard. People running to and from where they were going paused to look up at the horrendous sound.

"Brother Arthur sent Ash to the seer." George moved his pawn.

"Oh, all right." Jule looked down at the board, then made a move. "Check."

*

Ash came out of the seers' hovel, rubbing his bandaged arms.

"Markings my ass," He muttered, "More like being cattle branded..."

Brother John was waiting for him. Ash grimaced at him. "You could've warned me, Pops."

"Would you have gone if I had?"

"Hells no."

"Then I took the appropriate course of action. I came to inform you that I have finished repairing your weapons." He handed Ash a brand new Remington, his silver gauntlet and a chainsaw that gleamed in the dusky sunlight.

"Sweet," remarked Ash, "They look as good as new." He took the mechanical hand and snapped it on, pleased.

"That's because they are." Brother John looked smug.

"Come again?"

"I regressed them to an earlier period in their history. An intricate and tiring process, but well worth the effort."

"Ya lost me, Pops. But if it works," Ash yanked hard on the chainsaw. Instantly the powerful machine buzzed to life, "It works."

"Indeed."

"So I guess I can go now." Ash squinted at the noonday sun.

"You go to kill the Evil, do you not?" Brother John pursed his lips in thought, "The sooner the better."

"Yeah, ok, well then." Ash shifted from foot to foot, "I guess I'll be seeing you."

"Ay!" George's voice drifted across the courtyard. "Hero!"

Ash winced, "I hate that name."

"Well whaddya want? How about 'my liege'?" George came up to the two men, broadsword over one shoulder and a trio of scrolls in the other. "Any name you choose, I hear you're the one goin' off to save the world."

"If I want to get where I'm going." Ash shrugged. "You gotta do what you gotta do."

"Well the sentries, Brothers, and Arthur and all of them, was conferencing about your big quest. They gave me these to give to you." George held out the scrolls.

"What are they?" Ash shouldered his shotgun and put down the chainsaw.

"Maps, of the lands and islands to the west. Safehouses, places where the Brotherhood still clings to life. Some a' the old ports an' cities. Even a few on the west continent, though it's mostly gone to hell in a handbasket."

"Thanks," Ash unrolled the largest one, looking at the seas and deserts inked in a delicate hand. "It's a long way home."

"Always is." Brother John pointed at a thick dividing line between the land and sea. "I am unclear as to how you plan to cross the western ocean."

"If the pilgrims could do it, so can I. Burn that bridge when I come to it."

"So you're actually off to do it, then? Off to save the world?" George pushed back his cap, looking thoughtfully at Ash.

"Looks that way. I wish it was different, but there it is." Ash felt a heavy weight wrap itself around his shoulders. Not entirely unfamiliar. He'd felt it before going down the fruit cellar steps, before he'd fought for his life in the pit; it was the desperate preparation for battle. Fate's a big fat ugly bitch.

"Well," George squared his shoulders, "I ain't exactly a hero myself, but it sounds like a hell of a kick in the head."

Ash stared at the man, dumbfounded. "You want to come?"

"Never missed a party in my life. Sides, even if I lose my soul, I get into the history books as the stupid prick, right? That's somethin'."

"Even if you'd kept your soul, you'd still be a prick." Jule wandered up, spear on one shoulder.

"That's for the historians to decide, love. You taggin' along? You can be the maiden in distress."

"What are these maidens you speak of? I have never seen one in these parts, myself. Perhaps they lie beyond the sea?"

"Yeah, and my name's Peter. And it ain't." he added, "You coming along with us or not?"

"Sure. I could use a vacation." Jule folded up the chessboard she carried and handed it to John.

Ash blinked and closed his mouth. "You guys can't come. I'll probably be killed twenty miles out."

"With us along, you'll be killed forty miles out." George smiled cheerily, "Better chances, if you got some crazy guides to help you along."

Jule snorted. "Crazy being the operative word." She turned serious as she addressed Ash. "You don't know anything about the land. You'll get your head ripped off the first night out."

"I have my babies back," He hefted the shotgun defensively, "Me and them have been through a lot together."

"Remember the first night we spent in the clock tower? That thing that landed on the roof and made all that racket?"

"Yeah?"

"That was a winged leech. They fly in packs of thirty to forty. One bite to the head and they suck out your blood so fast your eyeballs implode."

"Oh." Ash gulped, but kept shaking his head, "I still think it's a bad idea."

"It's a horrible idea," George replied cheerfully, "But I have never been known for fantastic ideas."

"Like the kitty-powered water mill," Jule supplied.

"'Zactly. And this is the greatest of bad ideas. What kinda fool would I be if I missed this opportunity?"

"I pity the fools," sighed Ash, giving up. Then he eyeballed Jule. "Why do you want to come?"

"That's easy. Those maps are outdated. And between the three of us, I'm the only one who will stop and ask for directions."

**

"Four horses?" Ash opened the door to the stables where George and Jule were preparing for the journey. It was still dark out, but the three of them had been given permission to skip sentry duty. Ash carried the dried foods the mess had donated when they heard about the journey. Utterly creeped out by the few things he had seen in the kitchens, Ash didn't even ask what was in the stuff he was given. But one of the packages felt distinctly like it had lots of tiny legs. More for George and Jule.

"Yeah. One for each of us, plus one to carry the supplies." Jule patted her own horse on the nose, then began to bolt its leg back on with a hammer and a few nails. The skin on its neck and belly was the pale color of a corpse left too long in the rain. It blinked a pair of white eyes at Ash, and neighed softly.

"Do we have to take dead ones?" Ash began to sift through the pile of things the two had collected. He didn't recognize half the things, bottles and packages and bits of weird metal. He grudgingly admitted that he was happy they were coming. He himself couldn't quite believe he was going so willingly. Must be that madness Jule was talking about, he thought, examining an amulet in the shape of a curled lizard. Weird. But there were also strange knives, a bunch of short swords, a morning star that looked like it had been lifted from a museum, and two rifles. Jule was strapping her bow and spear to her saddle, and had a scimitar already sheathed on her back.

"You don't have to feed them, and they regenerate on their own." George pulled the saddle straps tightly to his own black mare. Ash went over the two that were left, and picked the one with the fewest maggots. In it's former life it had been a large bay; now it was a skeleton with a skin. But it looked sturdy and less rotten than the small white supply horse, which was currently snorting in an attempt to dislodge a worm from its nostril.

"Cramping my style," Ash sighed and began to saddle up, having little to pack, "We'll have to pick up some wheels somewhere along the way." He strapped the chainsaw on so it hung securely with arm's reach.

"Would be nice," Jule agreed, "So would roads to drive on. Until then, we'll have to hoof it."

"It's about an hour till sunrise," George began to scoop up bottles and food and put them into his saddlebags, "We should start out about then. We can make to the gatehouse by sundown."

"Gatehouse?"

"Like the clock tower," Jule explained, "A safe place to stay, the furthest one to the west."

"So after that, we're on our own."

"Yep." George sheathed his battered sword, "Us against the world."

Ash sighed. "Where's a bookie when you need one?"

**

They were ready to go. Ash could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

You could stay here and live, he thought, and instead you're leaving and you're going to die.

I don't belong here, he shook his head to clear it and took a deep breath, I have to go home. And this is the only way to get there.

"You okay?" Jule was sitting on the horse beside him.

"Yeah," Ash replied, looking straight ahead, "Just trying to talk myself out of this."

"Is it working?"

"No."

"Well, let's get going before you do." Jule checked her bottles of water and bundles of arrows to make sure they were secure, and then tied the reins of the supply horse to her own saddle.

"Probably a good idea."

George pushed open the stable doors and then pulled himself up onto his horse. "What's that thing from that book Jerome is always quoting?"

"One for something. And it's the mouseketeers."

"What?" Ash rubbed his face in confusion, then he figured it out and began laughing. "The Musketeers, you dolt."

"Sorry, Mr. Genius man," Jule made a face at him, "I don't get to use my library card much."

"One for all, and all for one," Ash was still grinning, "Is that it?"

"Yeah," George brightened, "One for all, and all for one."

"For christ's sake, can we just go?" Jule kicked her horse, "Or would you like to discuss literature all day?"

They trotted out into the courtyard, aiming for the drawbridge. But they only got a few feet before they stopped.

A huge crowd had gathered outside in the dark, all of them silent and watching. Every eye was on them, faces frightened and hopeful in the firelight of the castle.

"Okay," Ash said nervously, "What's up?"

Brother Arthur stepped forward, his face somber. "We all know what you are going to attempt," He said, then looked at Jule and George, "And you two as well, although no one has asked you to try."

"We couldn'ta not," George said softly, echoing Ash's own thoughts. "Not much of a choice."

"Still, we are grateful," Brother Arthur bowed his head in respect, "If you succeed, you will have saved us all."

"How many times have you set out to save the world, Ash?" Jule looked over at the hero.

Ash counted. "At least two. And I'm not dead yet."

A slow murmur ran through the crowd, but Arthur quieted them with a wave of his hand. "We will think of you and wish you well. Is there anything else you require?"

"I think we're good, pops." Ash looked out over the sea of faces, families and monks all depending on him. That weight felt heavy on his shoulders. "Time to go, as a friend of mine once said."

The huge crowd parted before the three, and they rode through the silent crowd. As they passed people whispered good words and wishes to them. Even those, Jule noticed, who hated her looked at her with grudging respect. Hope I come back, she thought, just to see their faces then.

As they reached the gate, the sun beginning to peek over the horizon of twisted glass and metal, George turned around on his horse and lifted his baseball cap up in the air.

"Go Yankees!" He shouted, and the crowd burst into cheers.

"I'm leaving now!" Jule yelled over her shoulder, kicking her horse into a trot.

Ash laughed, then waved an arm at the crowd, "I'll send a postcard!"

The two men turned and rode away from the rising sun, the cheering still ringing in their ears.

George looked over at Ash. "Think we're gonna make it, mate?"

"About a snowball's chance in hell," Ash replied cheerfully.

George nodded, "Them's good enough odds for me."

2.

The first day passed uneventfully, only the silent hulks of skyscrapers and burnt out buildings visible. George insisted on singing 'Highway to Hell' until both Ash and Jule had had enough. Now they rode directly into the setting sun, except for George, who had been gagged and tied to his saddle.

"Are we going to make it in time?" Ash asked Jule, watching the sun slowly disappearing under the horizon.

"Yes. It's closer than it looks." Jule squinted into the orange light, "Should've borrowed a pair of sunglasses."

"Hmgoh," said George.

"You gonna behave yourself?" Ash led George's horse by the reins.

"Um uh." George nodded and Ash reached over, yanking the rope loose.

"We can stop at the city by the sea," he shrugged, "Nobody lives close enough to ransack it. It'll be a good supply stop." He snatched his reins from Ash, "Just for that, you're in for 'One Hundred Bottles of Beer'."

"Speaking of the sea, anybody got any ideas about that?" Jule adjusted her riding gloves, changing the subject. "It's not like we can tickets on the next ferry."

Ash turned to George. "Aren't you the bad idea man? What do you suggest?"

"My ideas are bad, not insane. That's your department. There's some pretty hairy things living in the ocean these days."

"Really? What kind of things?"

"Don't know," Jule interrupted, "You can only see parts of them when they surface offshore. They're big though."

"Like how big?"

"I don't know. It's hard to tell." She pointed, "We're almost there."

The gatehouse was a church, nestled against the skeleton of a collapse overpass. The cross on the belltower tilted badly, but still pointed towards the darkening sky. Lighting hissed through the sky, and an instant later fat drops of rain began to splatter against the riders.

There was an unsaid agreement, and all three began to ride quickly towards the church. It was only a few minutes before they rode up to the door. Jule dismounted and pushed open the thick wooden doors. Ash grabbed her horse and led it inside, George following. Jule inscribed her traditional three circles on the door, then entered. The two men dismounted as she slid the thick oaken plank across the entrance, securing it for the night.

"Nice," Ash surveyed the interior of the church. There were already candles in the windows, and up on the altar was a pile of blankets. "You come here often?"

"There's a village half a day's ride from here that deals in weapons and oil."

"What's past the village?"

Jule sighed and began to go to each of the windows, lighting the candles. "Now that I don't know. I guess we'll find out."

"Maybe we should stay in the village for the night, so that we can get farther in the daylight."

George snorted from where he knelt by the altar. "That'd be a good idea mate, but the villages ain't exactly accustomed to putting people up for the dark hours."

"Why?"

"They're mean sons of bitches, that's why. They don't like Jule much, either. Never been to this particular one, but they're all the same."

Jule lit the tallest candle underneath the tall stained glass window at the front of the church. "Oh sure. Blame it all on me."

"As often as I can, darlin," George tipped his hat, "But they don't like nightriders much either. Just enough to trade with em."

"Nightriders?" Ash remembered the old witch had mentioned that just before she'd branded him.

"We're nightriders," George explained, walking over to Ash with an armload of blankets. "People who can stay outside durin the night without being possessed. The symbol brands protect us."

"So why don't we ride at night?" Ash took a few of the blankets George offered.

A hideous scream erupted from the night outside, chilling Ash to the bone.

"That's why." Jule answered unnecessarily, finishing up the last of the candles. "That should take care of things. Time to hit the sack. We've got a rough ride tomorrow."

The three of them settled down for the night in the pastors' chamber, a room hidden behind the altar. "Never hurts to have a second line of defense," Jule explained as she etched another three circles on the wooden door. Ash agreed.

He looked up at the ceiling now, hidden in shadows. A single candle flickered, casting squares of light against the walls. He found himself reading the pastor's credentials from the floor he lay on. The man been a good guy--lots of awards and citations. Ash wondered if he was dead. Probably. Along with everyone else he'd ever known. Ted was long gone; too bad. S-Mart was probably a smoking hole in the ground as well. Ash would've loved to tell Ted and the others all this. He'd have never believed it. And his family...Ash shut that door quickly. It was frightening, how much he tried not to think of things these days.

Counting sheep wasn't working. He kept going over and over things in his mind. How long ago had the cabin been? He'd spent five days with Sheila, seven hundred years ago. Two nights in the cabin. A week. One single week. Now he was spending the night in an abandoned church with two people he barely even knew. One was a deadite, and the other, even worse, was a Yankees fan. Three of them against the world filled with evil. Ash sighed and put his arms behind his head. He wished he could stop thinking.

George snored loudly from behind the desk; Ash could see his feet twitch as he dreamt of something. Probably of a cold beer and a good meal. Jule was sleeping against the door, her back pressed up against it. If something comes through there, it'll get her, he thought. Then it occurred to him that they couldn't really hurt her--she'd been decapitated and been none the worse for wear.

Ash frowned. George had also said she didn't sleep. He sat up from where he was lying against the wall and looked over at her. Her head was resting on her arm and her eyes were closed. Ash didn't want to wake her up, but if she didn't sleep...

As softly as he could, Ash whispered. "Jule?"

Her eyes snapped open immediately and she raised her head. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ash raised a hand, now embarrassed. "Lie back down. It's nothing." He rolled over and pulled his blanket up around him. What a baby you are. What did you want her to do? Tell you a story?

Ash heard her moving from her spot by the door, coming over and sitting down next to him. "Can't sleep?"

"I would be able to if you'd leave me alone." He snapped, still facing the wall. Ash expected her to snort and tell him he was an ass. That would have made him more comfortable than what she actually did say.

"All right. But can I stay here?"

"Why?"

"Well, I can't sleep. Maybe you could show me how?"

"Are you hitting on me?" Ash said it before he thought better, and almost bit his tongue in half the minute it was out. He'd spoken more out of habit than anything else. Smooth, Ash. What are you, in high school?

"No." She sighed suddenly. "Do you want to go to sleep or not?"

Ash shrugged, still turned away. "Yeah, but what can you do?"

"If you turn around I'll show you." Oh well. He didn't have any better ideas, and he was damn tired of bouncing sheep, so Ash twisted his neck around to look up at her.

Jule bent down and kissed him, deeply. Ash was too startled to be disgusted, or to enjoy it; he felt her fingers on his jaw and the incredible coldness of her skin. Her eyes were still open, and he saw that her eyes were flecked with silver so pale it was almost white. Then he was falling down into a dark place, into blissful unconsciousness. And he found no dreams there, only oblivion, and Ash was more grateful for that than anything anyone could have given him.

**

"Hey. Hey!" Someone was kicking him awake. Ash burrowed into his blanket, unwilling to return to the world as it was. "C'mon, champ. Shake it off." George's voice sounded in his ears.

"Go 'way," Ash mumbled, "I have ten minutes until the bus comes."

"Ain't no bus coming round this way. Ya'd better get up--the sun rises in a few minutes."

Ash forcibly shook himself awake, finally sitting up. He'd been so comfortable. Hadn't slept like that in seven hundred years. He yawned and stretched, running a hand over his face. Stubble was starting to grow there again--he'd have to ask George for a razor.

"That's more like it. Grab some chow and meet us outside." George tossed him a sack and left before Ash could mention it. He sighed and pulled a few packages from the sack. Ash was chewing on a piece of beef jerky (you know, I didn't see any cows at the castle) as he pulled his boots on and laced them up. He took one look around the pastor's office, the claw marks and splashes of blood on the wall now visible in the early morning light. Ash shuddered and went to find his companions.

Jule and George were saddling up the horses that had been tied to the pews all night. He yawned as he reached Jule. She winced at his breath, then reached into one of her pockets and withdrew a pack of cloth.

"Here. Chew this. It'll keep your teeth from rotting." She unwrapped it and handed him what looked like a stick of gum. Ash took it and popped it into his mouth.

"Minty," He commented. He thought about asking about last night, and then decided that it wasn't necessary. Probably just a part of some sleep spell, he thought. Yeah. That was all it was. Ash looked up at the stained glass windows. Colored light streamed through them. "Sun's up."

George pushed the doors open, and they swung outwards with a creak. The clouds were red and yellow, swirling low and sick through the sky.

The three riders climbed up onto their dead mounts, and began to ride into the blood soaked desert.

**

"Where's this village?" Ash scanned the flat desert, seeing nothing. In every direction the ground was utterly flat and dry, the dirt so parched it had already absorbed the rain from the night before. A hot, dry wind had picked up, blowing up tiny dirt devils and clouds of sand. The mountains of the junkyard had disappeared several hours ago, and when Ash looked behind him the horizon was as flat as it was ahead.

"It's a few miles away. You can't see it until you're right on top of it." Jule had a white scarf wrapped around her face and head, only her dark eyes showing, to protect her from the harsh wind. It blew back behind her as they rode along. Ash wished he'd thought to do the same. He already felt gritty and unwashed.

George had stuffed a hankerchief up under his baseball cap, and looked like a soldier for the foreign legion. He took a drink from his canteen, then handed it to Ash. Ash took it and gulped a few swallows down. When he noticed that the canteen didn't get any lighter, he looked over at Jule and raised an eyebrow. She nodded when she noticed him. Ash grinned, then began to pour it down his neck and shoulders. The canteen didn't run out of water, and soon he felt much better. He handed it back to George after his impromptu bath.

"Here," George unsnapped one of his saddlebags and pulled out a length of black cloth, "Take this."

"Thanks," Ash dried himself off, then wrapped it around his face, "I feel like Lawrence of Arabia."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

After a few miles and more than a few rounds of 'Devil Went Down To Georgia', the riders came upon the village. It was a tiny crack in the earth. Ash wouldn't have ever seen it if Jule hadn't pointed in out. At one end of a zigzagged depression there was a sinkhole into the earth. At the bottom of the hole Ash could see the beginning of a series of steps, nearly invisible.

"Well I'll be damned," George pushed his cap back. "That's a clever thing, isn't it?"

"We can leave the horses up here," Jule dismounted neatly, "They don't even come up during the day."

"What are we trading for?" Ash clambered down off his rotting horse, "What do they have that we need?"

"Information, weapons maybe. Practical charms and spells. Never hurts to ask." Jule took a saddlebag from the supply horse and a small oil lantern from the candle bag.

Once the horses were secured onto a spear driven into the earth, the riders descended into the depths of the desert. The tiny cramped crack quickly widened into a tunnel. The sides were carved with the same symbols Ash had seen at the castle, protection and banishment spells. But they weren't the neat, even symbols he'd seen. These were crooked and hacked into the hard dirt of the wall. Occasionally there was an alcove hacked into the wall, holding a fanged skull. All of them had deep impact points, as if someone had driven a spike into them.

"I'm not liking this," Ash muttered under his breath.

"Trust me," Jule said over her shoulder, "And let me do the talking." She lifted the lantern high above her head.

"What do I do?"

"Keep George quiet."

Then the tunnel ended, and Ash followed Jule into hell.

The village was part cavern, part hole, part ruin. Everywhere people in rags scurried and screamed at each other like rats. The smell was horrific, and Ash saw bones scattered and in piles, hidden in the shadowy darkness of the underground. Roughly circular, tunnels ran off the gigantic hollowed out pit like a warren. Levels and pathways went down and up. Mostly down. It was poorly lit and Ash sensed more of the place than he could actually see. Far below the level they were standing on burned a bonfire, the shapes of humans crouched around it for warmth. It burned without smoke.

"I hate pits," whispered George, "Always nasty things at the bottom."

"Tell me about it," Ash replied, still watching Jule. She crouched at the edge of a cliff, balanced on the tips of her fingers. "What's she doing?"

"I don't rightly know. I've never been out this far. Mebbe she's gonna get us some attention." Ash had to agree--dozens of people had scuttled by and given them no notice.

Jule screamed, a long howling screech that chilled Ash and George to the bone. It was the scream of things that flew and crawled in the night--the noise he'd heard when he'd fought the hinterwolves. He thought it got louder at the end, but Ash realized that the effect was caused by the sudden silence of the entire village. He became aware of dozens of eyes upon them, silent, fearful, hostile stares. All the men had beards and the women had long, tangled hair. The children were thin and frightened looking. Ash felt an overwhelming pity. I wonder if these are the grandkids of anyone I know.

Probably not. He'd not known anyone in England a hundred years ago.

Jule stood and turned. "Ah wana tauk two Peet."

A huge, grizzled man stepped forward,"Peet nawt heer."

Jule hissed at him, and the man stepped back, raising his hands, "He sayd no tauk two dead no moor."

The white-haired woman snarled at him. "Get Peet." A few individuals broke off from the group and ran into a large tunnel. Jule nodded. "Beter. We waunt maps."

"Were?" The grizzled man shifted nervously. Ash watched the display with interest. The grizzled man was a leader of some kind--he wore a necklace of rat skulls and had battered shoes.

"West. See." Jule gestured with her hands.

"No," The man became anxious. "Deadlans. Bad thinks."

"Deadlans." Jule said sharply.

"Nuthing," He shook his head again, "No won caim back."

Jule hissed, and the man looked about ready to cry. He was taller than Jule by a foot and twice as large. Ash tried not to snicker, and even George looked amused. Ash thought the big man would break down into tears when a little old woman stepped forward. "Two daz west, one nourth, men. Menny men. Menny evils. One day south, tree daze west, no men ant no evils. Nutting."

"Brotherhoods," Jule pointed to herself, "More lake me?"

"No lake you," The old woman spat, "No men lake dem," She gestured at Ash and George with a hand, "No naightridas."

"Thaink you," Jule tipped her head politely, and the old woman spat at her.

"Hey," Ash stepped forward, "You crazy..."

"Stop," said Jule, "That's his mother."

"Oh," Ash backed down. "Still."

There was a commotion, and the three turned to see a tall gray man striding out from the tunnel the other villagers had run to.

"Pete." Jule spoke to Ash, "Weapons."

"What kind of weapons could this guy possibly make that we would want?" Ash snorted.

"The best in the land, sir." Pete spoke clearly and articulately, and Ash felt himself flush. "I made the swords your companions carry." He looked at Ash's chainsaw. "Not yours, I see. Are you a traveler here?"

"You could say that."

"We're going to save the world," George spoke up, "Want to contribute to the cause?"

Pete laughed roughly, "You? A fool and a corpse? May god save us all from your delusions."

"I can't convince you, Pete." Jule answered easily, "But look at it this way. Either I'll be killed, or we will save the world. Both ways, you get rid of me."

Pete raised an eyebrow. "That would be a boon, to be sure."

"So what do you say? For old times sake?" She lifted the bag she carried, "I have the goods to trade."

He nodded thoughtfully, "I'd say you have yourself a deal."

**

Ash hefted the sturdy crossbow, impressed. "This guy makes good stuff." He spun the barrel, taking aim at Jule and firing two arrows in quick succession. They hit her with a wet thwack right below each of her shoulder blades.

George whistled. "Good shot, mate."

"That's a matter of opinion," Jule didn't even turn around as she reached over her shoulder and yanked them out. "And this is a strange way of flirting, I might add." She was making sure her own weapon was tied to her mount; an odd sword with deep curved indentations for cutting and slicing off limbs.

Now they were above ground and loading up again, replacing the goods Jule had traded with swords, guns, and arrows. She'd also obtained a rough drawing of the lands to the west, and as crude as it was, it was far more detailed than the Brotherhood's maps.

Ash took a drink of water, then grinned as Jule walked over and handed him his arrows back. "Not bad, eh baby?"

"Just as long as you hit the bad guys next time." She rubbed her back, then glanced over at George. "C'mere, Sparky. Staff meeting."

"Yeah, I'm coming, keep your pants on." George shouldered his own double ended axe and swaggered up to them, a large smile on his face.

Jule leaned one arm against Ash's horse. "Like the axe?"

"Who wouldn't?" He swung it over his head expertly, "Just hope I don't end up using it right away."

"Amen," Jule nodded, then withdrew the scrap of leather from the folds of her long coat, "Now, here's where we decide which way to go."

"I vote for two days west and one north," Ash pointed to the thin line winding it's way through the mountains, "There might be caves where we can bunk for the nights, and we'll reach the ocean faster."

"But the crazy witch said there were many evils," George shook his head, "I'm no coward, but I'd like to put off a direct confrontation for as long as possible."

"She said there were many men too," Jule disagreed, "Maybe people who can help us figure out a way across the ocean."

"What's this?" Ash pointed to a space beyond the mountains, an area of land covered with twisting lines.

"The chief said those were warms."

George pulled his cap down, "Heat springs, maybe? Steam vents?"

"Could be. I vote for two days west and one north." Jule looked up, "Whose with me?"

"You got my vote," Ash nodded, "There's no point in going south if there's nothing there."

**

"Is it too late to take my vote back?"

"No."

The three were standing on a ledge overlooking another desert. They had crossed the low mountains without incident in the course of half a day--now the sun was setting in front of them, the sky bright scarlet. It cast long red shadows across the moving sands. While the desert the riders had crossed had been flat and hard, this one was rippled and formed of shifting dunes. Strong winds whipped the sand up into funnels and clouds, a dry ocean of heat. Ash was reminded of every Arabian movie he'd ever seen. But the sand was hardly the worst part.

Moving in the sand were things. There was really no other word for them. Worms. Lizards. Spiders. They were hideous amalgams of the ugliest parts of each, massive tubes of black flesh, covered with hairy protrusions, jagged and toothy on each end. Even from the ledge high above the desert Ash could see the dark sinuous shapes--they averaged fifty feet long, twisting and burrowing through the sands. They poked their heads up like dark smokestacks, waving and watching the red orb of the sinking sun.

"Snakes. It had to be snakes." Ash muttered, looking out over a sea he hadn't planned to cross.

Jule turned her horse around, away from the setting sun. "What did you say?"

"Nothing."

George shrugged and turned his horse around as well. "Let's sleep on it, comrades. I think I saw a cave a few hundred yards back."

Ash sighed and took one last look at the dunes before turning around. "I don't know."

"Don't worry, Ash." Jule spoke lightly, "We'll think of something." She paused, and her voice grew a little more serious. "We've got to."

**

Their second night.

"Jesus it's cold," Ash huddled closer to the fire, "I can barely feel my a..."

"We make it any bigger and we'll have no room to sleep," George elbowed Jule in the neck accidentally.

"I'll take it," Jule had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and sat farthest from the flames, less sensitive to the cold than two men. "Better than spending the night outside."

They had taken shelter in a low cave, more of a crack, in the side of a cliff. The horses were tethered outside, forming a barrier between them and the night. Jule had dragged the supplies inside to block off the entrance, and set up her security.

"I can feel them out there," She'd said, and Ash noticed that she looked worried. Since there was nothing he could do he'd remained silent, but he kept his shotgun close at hand, and George was using his sword to roast roaches over the meager fire.

"I can't believe you're eating those," Ash stuck out his tongue in disgust.

"They're tasty," George raised up his sword and stuck the insect into his mouth and crunching down, "Nutty, almost."

"So what do we do about tomorrow?" Jude scratched in the dirt with a dagger, "Got any ideas?"

"Not a one," George pulled another roach from his saddlebags, "What about you, hero?"

"Workin' on it," Ash stared at the roach. He was hungry all of a sudden. God.

Jule kept drawing, "Maybe we can go around it. Or we can turn back and go south."

"Don't give up so quick," Ash put his hand on his chin, "There's always an insane scheme that will probably get us killed."

"So? We need a scheme to begin with before it can become insane."

There was an earsplitting scream from outside, followed by the terrified cries of the horses. A grating noise like sandpaper came from nearby, the sound of a huge heavy body being dragged over stone.

"What's that?" Ash tried to see past the panicking horses, and could only see shadows.

"Whatever it is, it's going to make the animals hurt themselves. Or eat them." George gulped down his roach and began to edge towards the entrance, grabbing a rifle on the way. Ash nodded and picked up his shotgun, throwing off his blanket. Jule picked up the crossbow, dropping her dagger and making for the small hole in the wall of supplies. Ash passed where she had been sitting, and looked down at the dirt. The drawing there made him blink, then an idea flashed though his head. It was crazy...he bent down and picked the dagger up, considering.

"Damn it to Christ!" George began yelling, "It's eating them!" The idea vanished and Ash bolted, stuffing the dagger into his belt and scrambling out of the cave, shotgun primed. The rocky area was roughly circular, the cave at one end of the circle, and a way down to the desert at the other. Ash and George had tethered the horses on a rocky outcropping halfway between the two ends. The only illumination was the sporadic and faint light of the red moon.

A worm had smelled the horses or the humans, and it had dragged itself up from the desert on spindly, hairy legs. Already it had eaten the supply horse--a rotting leg hung from the black triangular jaws. Thousands of tiny, squidlike-like eyes protruded from a lolling tongue that drooled and licked at its yellowed teeth. The horses reared and pawed at the air with their hooves, bashing against the stone cliffs, oblivious to the fact that the splattering of blood only attracted the gigantic monstrosity to them.

Ash watched in horror as the worm's head whipped around and nosed downwards like a missile, seizing his bay mount.

"Hey!" Ash raised his shotgun, "That's my horse, you bastard!" The worm dropped the rotting animal and hissed wetly, Ash's voice catching its attention. Rotten meat was good. Fresh was better. It stuck out its tongue, and the thousands of watery eyes looked right at him. Ash raised the gun to his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The bullet hit its target, the roof of the worm's mouth.

The worm shook itself, then growled, apparently unharmed.

"Of course," Ash took a step back, "I've been known to partake of a little midnight snacking myself..." The worm was covered with a rock hard shell, even inside its jaws. But out of the corner of his eye he saw Jule and George, crossbow and sword drawn and approaching the belly of the beast. It didn't notice them; it was too focused on Ash. He grinned unsteadily and took another step back--the worm lurched forward clumsily, its body suited more to sand than the rocky mountain terrain. Its legs splayed outwards, partially exposing a thin whitish line on its belly that looked soft and vulnerable.

"C'mere," Ash beckoned, taking another step back, "Hungry, aren't you?" The worm hissed again, drool dripping from its mouth. The remains of the supply horse hit the ground with a wet thump. "Not much to eat out in the desert, is there? Bet you'd to chow down. Want some?" Ash saw the glint of metal from directly under the creatures' front legs. Is she crazy? The worm wavered, sensing something, and it began to emit a high pitched whining sound. Ash saw their chances disappearing as it began to search the area for other attackers.

"No!" He shouted, waving his arms, "Over here, you ugly son of bitch! Look over here!" The worm ignored him, and began to look in every direction. Ash cast about desperately, and then saw the blood covering the ground; black, dead blood. He felt the dagger at his waist. He could see Jule ducking and skittering between the beast's spindly legs, trying to aim at the vulnerable seam of the worm's armor. But it was moving around too much. Ash grabbed the dagger by the handle, and brought it up to his shoulder and pulled back the collar of his shirt. He took a deep breath and drew the blade of the knife across his skin, a thick line of blood welling up behind it.

The instant the worm smelt fresh blood, the massive head swung back to orient on Ash. As it did it rolled, exposing the white of its underbelly to the side. A second set of jaws emerged from beneath the first, snapping hungrily, and the worm stilled, preparing to attack.

"I see you fell for the old 'look over here' trick," Ash smiled, face hard. There was a click from directly underneath the beast. "Sucks to be you."

Jule fired her crossbow directly upwards, right at the tiny soft spot, and the arrow buried itself deep in the worm's body. It screamed, tongue protruding from its maw in surprise. Jule rolled out from underneath the monster and Ash grabbed her, dragging her back behind a stone outcropping.

"You trying to get us both killed?" He growled into her hair.

"Cover your ears." She answered, and demonstrated.

"I have better things to do than be bait, you..." Ash clapped his hands to his head as the worm burst with two earsplitting explosions, huge pieces of bone and slime hitting the cliffs that surrounded the area. The holy water covering Jule's arrow had done its work. Bits of organs and muscle began to rain down, sprinkling the area with chunks of meat. Jule whooped, throwing her arms around Ash's neck. "What a beautiful noise it makes."

George waved from the other end of the worm where'd he'd done the same thing as Jule. "Big ugly thing go boom!"

"Yah," Ash wiped the guts and pus from his face, "They smell worse than the horses."

"Not as bad as you do you," Jule released him, "I told you to duck."

"No you didn't. You told me to cover my ears."

"Do I have to tell you everything? You're a big boy now." Jule grinned, then unwrapped her scarf from her neck and handed it to him. He took it and wiped off his face. "Thanks."

George stood before the middle section of the worm, the only part that had been undamaged. It was a good twelve feet in diameter. "You think these are good eating?"

Jule and Ash joined him. Jule shook her head. "You first."

George watched as several white bloated squirming things began to emerge from the blasted flesh and plop to the ground, crawling quickly back towards the desert. "You know, I think I'll pass." He glanced over at Ash. "You okay, mate? You're bleeding there."

Ash looked down in surprise. The cut he'd made was still flowing freely. "I didn't make it that deep." Jule touched the cut lightly, and Ash winced, pulling away. "Careful there, Florence."

"It shouldn't hurt that much, Ash." Jule took her scarf from him and carefully wiped away some of the worm's blood that had soaked into his shirt. Ash hissed through his teeth, but let her work. George walked over and peered at the cut. "Well, ya didn't hit any arteries."

"Thank you, doctor." Ash said dryly, "Believe me, I've learned by now where my arteries are." He looked down at Jule. "Are you done yet?"

"There's something in here," Jule frowned.

"Excuse me?" Ash instinctively tensed, "Care to explain?" Jule reached down and took the dagger from his belt. Ash tried to pull away. "Whoa. Hang on a sec there, baby."

"Ash, there's something inside your shoulder." Jule cocked her head, "It could be a maggot, or just a piece of shell. Either way, you're bleeding badly, and I'm not sealing it up if it's going to get infected. Soon the worms will smell the blood, and we'll have more company." She looked at him, a pleading expression on her face.

"Yeah, I get it." Ash sighed, "You know, I could use a break from this kinda thing."

"Not gonna happen." George fumbled for a moment, then came up with a leather glove. "Bite down on this. It's clean." Ash took it unwillingly, then sat down. Jule wiped her dagger on a clean spot on her shirt, then knelt by him.

"Ready?"

"No." Ash looked away, up at the bright red moon, and tried to think of happy things. Pamela Lee. Christmas bonuses. Happy hour. All of that vanished as a searing pain bit through his shoulder, and Ash bit down hard, tried not to scream. He succeeded, but was vaguely aware of his fingers digging into something soft. The pain was hideous, burning down across his chest and up through his neck. He felt a low grinding and realized that Jule's blade was hitting bone, and he bit down even harder, his teeth cutting through the thick leather of George's glove.

Then it was over, and Ash was aware of Jule talking to George. George left and began to rummage around in the supplies piled up by the cave entrance, and soon he was back with a bottle of something.

"Whas that?" Ash felt sick as he looked down at the hole in his shoulder. "What was in there?"

"Nothing." Jule looked up at him, and wiped his forehead with her scarf, "It's all over." She took a liberal amount of liquid from the bottle and applied it to the wound. Immediately it began to bubble; Ash felt a spreading coolness and an easing of the burning. The pain was still there, but it faded to a low throb that didn't hurt nearly enough to complain about. The hole was still large--Ash saw he was missing a goodly amount of flesh.

"What was in there?" Ash grabbed her wrist, "Tell me." Jule faltered, then glanced over at a bloody lump on the ground. Ash looked, saw what it was, then stood.

"Ash? You okay?" Jule stood up with him, but he staggered over to a spot by the cliff. She heard him begin to retch, and looked away.

When he was done, he stumbled back over to her. "Goin' inside." She nodded, and handed him the bottle of healing solution. "Take this."

He went to the hole in the supply was and pushed himself through. Jule watched him go, a peculiar ache in her chest. George poked at the bloody lump with the toe of his shoe. "Still alive?"

"No. I killed it." Jule joined him, and crossed her arms.

One of the maggots, or whatever they were, had found its way into Ash. Jule began to think of them as living tumors. In the minutes after it had burrowed into him, it had grown. The thing on the ground resembled a human, with tiny malformed arms and legs. Two embryonic eyes protruded from the elongated lump, and a small slit of a mouth gaped spastically, complete with miniscule teeth. It was no more than two inches long, but it made Jule sick. And for some reason, angry. Even George looked irritated. He nodded when Jule raised a boot and brought her foot down. There was a nasty ripping noise, and the tumor burst. "Good idea. Don't want it botherin us later."

Jule shook herself, "We'd better get inside. The worms probably aren't the only thing out tonight."

"Yah," George shook himself, "That was a close one. You think it was some kind of ganger?"

"Could've been. I don't care. It's dead now."

George chuckled. "Now them's the best kind."

**

Ash was huddled close to the fire, arms wrapped around his shoulders. He didn't say anything when George and Jule entered. George began to stack bags by the hole, sealing them up and relighting Jule's candle. Jule went and sat by Ash. The expression on his face didn't tell her anything--he was a blank.

"You ok?" She picked up the blanket from where it had been dropped and offered it to him. He didn't move to take it, but glanced over at her.

"I'm tired."

"You haven't slept since the church. That was almost twenty-four hours ago." She put the blanket on him, tugging it around so that it covered the still gaping cut.

"No," Ash shook his head, "That's not what I meant." Jule cocked her head curiously, but remained silent. Ash watched the fire thoughtfully, and a little sadly. "A week ago, I was a drone in a conveinience store. I had a good job, a girl, and a paid vacation. Two days later my girlfriend is dead, everyone I know is possessed, including me. I didn't save any of them--Knowby's soul is screwed, and Annie's life is over. Even if she did survive. After that nightmare a vortex sucks me back, throws me into the middle of a war..."

He closed his eyes, "I'm an chump. I mess up the words, I raise an army, I mess up again, I end up in a hellhole, with no choice other than a suicide ride straight into hell..."

"You saved a kingdom. You helped save our lives, just now. That was a good show."

"I screwed you over too. You wouldn't be out here if it wasn't for me."

"No. But we'd be terribly bored. You don't know how long we've been waiting for you."

The remark made Ash blink. "What?"

"Oh come on. All we ever did was play chess and fight for our lives at night. Then someone comes along who's doing something about it, who has to, instead of hiding in a hole for the rest of their lives."

"That's right." George took a seat by the fire, "Jule here endured a lifetime of mockery and hate, pardon my flowery language, and I was an orphan, as my parents were consumed alive by a roving horde of corpses. Que sera...or something French. Anyways, we've both been waitin' for the chance to do some good. Now we are."

"But you waited for me? Why?"

"Not for you in particular; you're just a good as reason as anything. Can't go on a quest without a goal, ya know. Sides, it's the prophecy and all. I said it before and I'll say it again; we're off to save the world."

Ash sighed and went back to looking into the fire. As much as he hated the slaughter and the dead bodies and the unending nightmares, he now sat with two people who had never known anything else. "The upshot of all of this is that I should stop whining, am I right?"

"It would be nice." Jule nodded, "But if you want to whine, you can."

"No," Ash sighed, "I think I'll knock it off." He glanced at George. "Not kosher." The Yankees fan laughed and lay down, pulling his hat down over his eyes. Ash lay down too, and in the cramped space his head found its' way to Jule's lap. At least, the space was a good reason. It was either her or George's feet, and of the two Ash knew which he preferred.

"You gonna do that sleep thing tonight?"

"No. I do it too often and you won't be able to get to sleep on your own."

"Oh," Ash was silent for a while, watching the flames slowly die. George began to snore. Ash sighed and shifted. "How does he do that so fast?"

"It's a talent. Even as a kid he fell asleep before everyone else."

"You two are close." Ash felt her fingers rubbing his temples. He didn't stop her. It actually felt pretty good.

"We're family. The Brotherhood was kind to us, me especially, in giving us a home. But they buried themselves in their books and prophecies. John raised us both together, since we didn't have anyone else."

"Sounds pretty bad."

"No. It was kind of good." Ash was getting drowsy--she was working her way down behind his ears and to his neck.

"When I first met you, I thought you were creepy as hell..." He yawned.

"And now?"

"You're just plain weird." He fell asleep to the sound of laughter.

**

Outside in the night, past the circle of protection, out of range of Jule's hearing, the tumor that had been cut from Ash's shoulder began to twitch. It wriggled and began to crawl unsteadily toward the ruin of the desert worm. On the way it absorbed bits of scattered flesh and organ, consuming and distributing them so that it began to grow in strength and size. Halfway to the worm the thing staggered up on two unformed stumps, and painfully made it's way to the massive bleeding store of protein and nutrients. The three remaining horses whinnied nervously, but relaxed as the slick lump of flesh burrowed into the worm's carcass, burying itself deep inside the already rotting body. It hollowed out a space inside, carving out a warm organ cavity and settling down, growing in safety and secrecy.

A single thought flicked into its' barely formed brain. She tried to kill me.

**

Please be critical, as I'm writing this to practice my style and construction. And reviews will help me decide on whether I write the rest down, as I know how it ends already...