The Messengers of Sanctuary

19 - Benjamin

The Flaming Reapers moved with the sun. Despite the satisfaction of seeing the monsters of their nightmares scream unholy curses at the living as their flesh melted off and they burst into flames...the Reapers had long since concluded that it was safer to attack while the sun was their ally.

They had lost too many of their brothers to the undead hordes when darkness shrouded the evil.

Benjamin Hayes, the leader of The Flaming Reapers, was the type of person who kept a chainsaw in his backpack just in case his flamethrower malfunctioned. Like everyone else in his gang, he'd left all aspects of the old world behind except the hunt and the tools it required. (And the mountain bikes. Those were far too useful as getaway methods.)

He figured, if he couldn't protect his family from the undead hordes that roamed just beyond the fence, then what kind of father was he? Well, he'd long since gotten it into his thick skull that the only way to make sure no one had to worry about zombies was to simply get rid of them all.

It was a monumental task, and they'd already lost countless brave men. But all the boys that surrounded Ben were good to the core, he trusted them with his life.

The day that Ben failed was a regular day, perhaps a bit more chilly than usual, with a hint of ozone in the air, but everything had been going as usual. James was complaining about the sleep-talking that seemed to be spreading across the camp, Greg was screaming like a madman as he ran toward the horde with his chainsaw revving, and Chuck was trying to convince Ben to let him go home.

All very normal.

The Flaming Reapers reached the undead horde, most of them approaching the act with reverence and resignation. Except for Greg - Ben should really have a talk with him later.

Zombies fell within seconds as the Reapers moved forward, taking them down with practiced ease. The act of killing a zombie wasn't something one should take lightly, there was still a human soul in there somewhere.

The Reapers moved forward with a force as strong and dangerous as the front lines of a war. They destroyed their enemies with flames, swords, and explosives. They ripped them apart.

It wasn't something that anyone should have to do, but in order to ensure the safety of their families, the Reapers would do anything.

"Canid!" someone shouted. The group fell back slightly, going into more defensive stances as the dangerous undead creature appeared from the horde.

In most places, only humans could contract the zombie virus, but in the land that the old world had named 'Australia,' anything could be infected with enough blood. This particular creature had taken to appearing whenever they tried to vanquish the undead, and it was powerful enough that they had to retreat every time.

Curious enough, it would never follow. Ben was fairly certain that it was more intelligent than its human counterparts.

The Canid was larger than should have been possible before the outbreak. It was covered with scars, one of which ran down its face making it blind in one eye. It had steadily been healing from that one, and Ben was not looking forward to the day it recovered its sight.

As he spotted the Canid - which was really just an infected Dingo, but all others of its kind must've drawn the short end of the stick since this one was terrifying - Ben put away his flamethrower, backing up as a couple of regular zombies reached toward him.

"Retreat! I'll cover you!" The Reapers obeyed, changing their stances to evasion.

Ben didn't watch long enough to make sure they were doing it right, instead he drew the sword at his side, facing the Canid with a glare. "Will I finally kill the creature this time?" he idly wondered, "perhaps it will kill me?"