Unearthed Battle

Shackled men of different ethnicities walked slowly towards a massive structure. It was flanked by men wearing sunbaked leather armor carrying a gladius on their hips. All but one of the chained prisoners were walking upright despite being exhausted from the trek. The last was slumped over and keeping the pace slowly at the end of the line, sweating more than the cool weather warranted.

As they approached the building, men came to greet them. A discussion was had about the shackled men, and each individual was inspected and released. When they reached the last man who was slumped over, sweating, and just thrown up blood, the men from the building protested his worthiness. After a few minutes of talking, the men decided to take the sick one. The guards removed his bonds, and he was escorted into the structure.

Once inside, the men were lined up and given a speech of what would take place in the coming weeks. After, the doctor came to evaluate the new recruits for gladiator training. Each was poked and prodded by the Medici until he reached the last man. He was immediately deemed too sick for training, but with no room in the infirmary, he was left in the barracks. The other men, now locked in a large cell, did their best to avoid the sick individual constantly spewing blood from his mouth. They, like the Medici, were under the impression that he would not survive the night.

The sun set and the newly acquired recruits settled in for the night, avoiding the sick man who hadn't moved for several hours. They believed he was dead and all attempts to get the guard's attention went unanswered. The space was large, easily allowing the body a wide berth. The cool night air found its way into the lower level and lulled everyone into a deep sleep. All but the body in the corner.

With a low cough and slow movements, the body began to stir. Blood had poured out of every orifice and was dried all over the reanimated corpse. His eyes, once a brilliant azure, were blood-filled and unfocused. The scrawny body, sandy and blood-ridden, made it to its feet and stretched before turning away from the dirt wall. Its eyes moved over the surroundings until a snore caught its attention. A man a few feet away shifted, and the cadaverous man's eyes focused on him. With uncoordinated movements, the animate body closed in on the sleeping captive.

The body fell back to its knees, its hands slowly caressed the sleeping man's stomach. As he turned to see what disturbed his slumber, the dead man's mouth plunged his exposed skin. A scream rang out through the lower level of the ludus and caused many other men to stir. Torches still lit gave off an eerie ambiance as the newly awakened men discovered what was happening. A few of the huddled hurried to help the one being eaten as he tried his best to push off the hungry deceased.

The dead man proved stronger than his lanky form would suggest, and it took the power of three men to pull him off. While the men dragged him back, he tried to bite. His fresh blood-soaked mouth landed on a forearm allowing his teeth to sink in, causing its grip to let go. Another bite to another forearm on the opposite set him free to move back toward his original meal. The three grabbed the ghoulish man again and slammed him on his back. They pummeled the reanimated body until it ceased its movements. With the problem alleviated, yelling died down and the men returned to their bedrolls.

Less than an hour passed before gurgling sounds echoed in the chamber awaking a few of the slaves. When they focused their eyes in the dimly lit cages, they noticed the sickly, dead man beaten to a pulp was moving once again. Whispers resounded throughout the room as captives were awakened for a group discussion. The corpse, despite bleeding out, was on his feet and searching for the sounds bouncing around the room. When his eyes fell upon the huddled men that still argued for a solution, he took an unbalanced step forward. The next step was more deliberate, and with his new-found balance, the corpse launched itself at the living.

Quickly flying through the air, the dead man collided with the group, his teeth catching flesh. Screams filled the air as the corpse locked its jaw deeper into flesh. The victim yelled for the guards, but no one showed. A few of the fellow slaves fought to pull the aggressor off only to receive bites in return. More men jumped in to help finally battling the diseased body to the ground. They frantically beat the soulless man until he no longer moved.

The first bitten were now showing similar symptoms of the deceased. Their wounds were producing pus. Sickly lines ran up their arms from the bites and they were sweating profusely, shivering as they started to spew blood. The sick were forced to the corner of the cage as the rest of the slaves fearfully watched.

As the night progressed, the first bit succumbed to their fevers, and the second group of three were now experiencing the same symptoms as the first. It didn't take long for the dead to reanimate. With a gained sixth sense, they avoided the sick and turned their sights on the sleeping men in the opposite corner. Like toddlers, they stumbled to their feet for the first time in their new life, quickly finding the rhythm to run at the living.

Their fast footfalls roused a few other prisoners, but as they started to scream the cadavers dove at them. With the fight for survival set off, the rest of the slaves jumped to their feet and ran to the center of the room. They tried to gain the attention of the guards in futility, their summons neglected. It was decided to send four of the group of eleven to pull the dead off the living. The four scared men slowly approached the corpses feeding on the innards of the fallen prisoners, working in unison to pull one away from its meal. They succeeded, but when the dead man snapped its jaw at them, they let go. Instead of turning back to the splayed body, the corpse advanced on the four. Another continued to eat until one of the men screamed before retreating. Two of the infected walked towards the final three as they stood their ground.

The dead moved mechanically, still not used to their rigor mortis set bodies. Their mouths were the only things moving freely without tension. One chewed a piece of organ meat, blood dripping down its chin, and the other chomped at the living. When the sick got within six feet of the group, they dove. The living yelled and ran while the cadavers fell to the ground. They quickly found their footing and were back on the attack in seconds.

The prisoners, terrified of the walking dead, backed up towards the corner where the sick were relegated to, the thought of the diseased masked by the impending threat. Yells erupted from their throats as the corpses continued to encroach. Soon, the slaves were stumbling over the bodies on the ground. One man fell over the legs of another and landed face to face with an infected. Suddenly, the bloodshot eyes popped open and focused on the meal in front of him. With the commotion and yelling, the last three to get bit started moving. Screams of pain reverberated off the walls of the dungeon as the resurrected bit into supple flesh while the other infected closed in on the pile of men from the opposite side. Within minutes, everyone was bitten. A few were gutted, but all were infected. Soon, the dungeon was mostly quiet. The only sound coming from the cage was smacking noises and slurping as the dead ate.

The sun peeked over the horizon and the guards went down into the dungeon to wake up the prisoners. The guards were surprised to see all of the men up and ready for the day, but in the dim lights of the underground cells, they missed important signs. First, all of the men were covered in large amounts of dried blood. Second, some of the men had bite marks and open cavities on their bodies. Lastly, their eyes were devoid of life, and their mouths were snapping at the guards as they approached the cell. The guard with the key spoke words completely lost on the soulless cadavers. He put the key in the lock and turned it, unlocking the mass of bodies.

The click from the lock stirred the dead, and without waiting for the guard to open the door, they stormed out, knocking him to the ground. Infected immediately jumped on the guard and started tearing flesh off his body with their teeth and hands. The second guard turned and ran, but the rest of the ghoulish men were right behind him. He was able to shut the door at the top of the stairs, but the small horde hit the obstacle with enough force to catapult the man across the room. His cries alerted a few more sentries, sending them rushing into the room.

The watchmen scrambled to the door in an attempt to stop the slaves from escaping, but with arms already through the gap, it was pointless. The dead surged again, and the door was sprung open, sending a guard flying. More guards had similar trajectories, landing on top of him. Some of the horde was soon on them, tearing at their flesh, while the rest ran through the door into the main lobby of the ludus.

The loud screams of men being torn apart alerted more of the sentries. As they neared the open door, the horde of blood-soaked cadavers started pouring out. Their footfalls echoed through the large open area, intimidating the handful of guards. One quickly disappeared into the city as he was dispatched to find the army unit stationed in town. Gripping their gladius’, they prepared for the coming onslaught as the mass of bodies ran towards them.

With only five guards against over a dozen empty-eyed infected men, their chances of survival seemed bleak. The guards’ faces set in grim determination, their hands tightening around their weapons. Once the dead reached the living, the guards started swinging their swords with precision, but they only slashed at the cavity-riddled torsos and arms. The cadavers felt nothing and walked through the slashes, reaching out for their next meal. A few hands and forearms were sliced off, but it didn't faze the soulless bodies. When one of the diseased halted after having a limb struck with sharp steel, the ones behind it would surge forward, pushing the mutilated closer to the guards.

The one-sided battle that felt like an eternity for the watchmen, lasted only several minutes. Soon the horde of a snarling, chomping mass, enveloped the five men, descending into a puddle of fresh blood. Seconds after the five men fell, the reinforcements arrived. It was the smallest unit in the Roman army, the Contubernium, consisting of eight highly trained soldiers. They pulled out their swords and ran straight for the dead, fear had no hold on them.

The soldiers took no time in slashing, kicking, and stabbing their way through the outside line of cadavers, but unlike the guards, they quickly found those actions had no effect. As they discussed their findings, the air filled with the sound of carnage. The infected were snarling, snapping their teeth, and gurgling while the army unit added the sounds of skin being slit open and limbs slapping the concrete as they fell. The men continued to fight the horde, but one mistake led to being bum-rushed or bitten. Soon, each of the Contubernium was down, but being covered in leather armor, the horde quickly lost interest and went in search of new meals.

A lone survivor—a single nervous guard—watched as the doorway to the ludus darkened, and blood-soaked cadavers started filing out. He turned to run as he witnessed a corpse, with hardly any torso walk into the sunlight, exposing its ravaged body. One of the first-bitten noticed, and quickly overtook him, jumping on his back and sinking teeth into his neck. He fell with a thud and was immediately consumed by the infected that caught up.

As the dead roamed the town, screams erupted in the early morning light, shattering the silence. Sounds from the cadavers bounced off the stone and fired-brick homes as they shuffled through the streets releasing grunts, moans, and groans. Citizens were rushing down the streets in an attempt to flee the sight of blood-caked, half-eaten bodies attacking their friends and family. The people of the town were quickly added to the infected, causing the horde to grow exponentially.


As the days passed by, Rome suspected a slave uprising and sent an army unit to quell it. After marching for several days, the unit finally approached the outskirts of town. Instead of a bustling market just outside the city gates, the unit found it burnt to the ground. With empty eye sockets, melted cartilage, and charred skin, several bodies remained animated: twitching and roaming with stuttered movements. The wind changed direction, and the smell of the carnage reached the army unit, causing several to involuntarily lose their previous meal. Orders were given to put the poor souls out of their misery and the unit pushed forward.

Despite having no eyes, the fire-purged bodies heard the footfalls of the soldiers and turned towards them. The sudden sight of burnt-off lips, noses, and a few cases of open body cavities sent chills down the front line, a few stepping back and clutching their weapons. The air was saturated with the smell of charred flesh and smoke, intensifying the terror that now gripped the soldiers' hearts. But with the orders of their commander, they steeled themselves for the fight ahead and marched forward. Reaching the first burning stall, an unseen abomination leaped through the flames. It latched on and bit down on the neck of one of the soldiers, allowing blood to gush into its mouth, onto its face, and freely fall down his neck and chest.

The soldier's scream broke the silence while those around him took a step back. A few gripped their swords, knuckles turning white, but none dared to swing on the fire-licked body. The few infected in front of the unit were now close enough for the soldiers to hear their gnashing teeth and crackling burnt flesh. The dead made the first move and swung their blackened fingers at the front line. Some of the soldiers struck true, slicing through the blackened arms, while others used the flat of their blades to deflect the grasping limbs, slapping them away with a mix of fear and desperation.

With only a few of the dead to deal with, the soldiers made quick work of their arms and cut off their heads that continued to bite until smashed or sliced through. The one soldier who was attacked was on the ground having succumbed to his wounds. He was pushed to the side and the man behind him took his place at the front. The unit's next order was to find and kill every reanimated corpse while looking out for survivors. The unit moved as one, their footsteps in unison, which rebounded off the walls of the town. Unbeknownst to them their presence had alerted the rest of the infected.

The wide-open gate was only a few meters across which would effectively bottleneck the arriving army unit. The first few through the opening saw the Contubernium, weapons drawn, approach from the ludus. Relieved to see the highly trained unit still active in the town, the front lines lowered their weapons in anticipation of an update on the situation. As they neared, a few of the front line felt a gripping unease they couldn't quantify, spreading over them. As the Contubernium drew closer the men's relief turned to horror. The elite fighting force was ravaged by bite marks, their necks now bearing gruesome bites and missing flesh. A man screamed and the infected fighting force attacked.

The undead, eyes cold and unyielding, charged the front line with swords at the ready. Unlike the previous corpses, they didn't flail; instead, they pressed their attack with calculated ferocity. The terrified front line hesitated against the Contubernium's expert defense, while the elite unit deftly deflected and countered each blow. With ruthless precision, the dead soldiers struck back, targeting exposed necks and arms with their swords, and sometimes, their teeth. Man after man fell to the muscle memory of the elite unit. The eight well-trained revenants were able to push the army unit back to the bottleneck and hold them there long enough for the horde to reform behind them.

The horde, consisting of townspeople, gladiators, and ludus guards who weren't trained slammed into the backs of the Contubernium causing them to lose their balance. Two fell immediately while the others caught their footing and continued to fight the living. A hole emerged between them and the rest of the corpses surged towards the army. Becoming overwhelmed by the unwavering attack of the horde, the commander yelled for retreat and the men in front did their best to disengage. When they stepped back the cadavers stepped forward, and in a few cases leaped ahead, clashing with the blood and viscera-ladened swords.

As the horde surged towards the army, the front line occasionally stumbled and fell, only to be trampled by the blood-soaked corpses behind it. The continuous march from the dead pulverized the fallen into a bloody sludge. The sounds of bones breaking caused a few of the living soldiers to flee, giving another foothold to the dead. Some of the cadavers managed to crawl away from the unrelenting feet, their lower body severed from their torso, organs sliding out and adding to the carnage. These dead became crawlers who moved forward with their stumps for arms and jerky, mechanical movements, adding to the horror of the horde.

Soon the soldiers were divided between those being slaughtered by the frenzied fiends and those retreating. It didn't take long for the former to be completely depleted of living men while the latter ran towards the nearest town, Pompei. After having their fill of flesh and fresh organs the army of dead rushed after the army of the living. Needing no reprieve from the trek, the cadaverous group quickly caught up to the resting soldiers. The army broke apart again, leaving half of the remaining men to be cannibalized by the horde, and the other half running for their lives. During their retreat, a thunderous sound clapped the sky; a huge plume of smoke and debris erupted into the atmosphere. Those trying to outrun the dead barely heard the noise over their beating hearts in their throats, and the sight of the cloud forming before them did nothing to detract them from their path to Pompei.

The fastest among the soldiers made it to town in a flash to find the army unit stationed there and warn them of the impending doom. The Contubernium of this town was too busy trying to evacuate the townspeople from the incoming fiery flow of magma descending the mountain. As the last of the army reached Pompei, they realized they were between a molten rock wall on one side and an undead army on the other. They turned to fight but were quickly overtaken by the flowing glow of magmatic stone. The cadavers, unfazed by the sight of their meals being enveloped by the boiling boulders ran straight at the red wall of lava.


Later …

The lead archeologist went through the updated file containing numerous reports, pictures, and one video of his dig site. The excavation had yielded more than he had ever seen from his other digs put together. The flap to his tent lifted and one of his research students rushed inside.

“Professor … we need you!”

When he turned to look, they were gone. He pushed the flap out and stepped into the beating sun. The several minute walk gave him time to wonder what he was needed for; a new discovery, an old one, or perhaps someone messed something up. When he finally arrived, he stared down, astonished by the scene in the freshly dug earth. He was confused at the numerous bodies lying everywhere, covered in dirt and some mud. Some were whole, others in different degrees of decay. There were many full skeletons clad in legionary armor, while the others, mostly full skeletons, some with outstretched stumps, were clad in gladiator garb. The newest two figures uncovered were mid-fight, frozen in time. One had died with his hands raised in defense, while the other was charging mouth first with teeth bared. It appeared the second was going for the throat. The lead archeologist shook his head as he walked around the two figures, “Romans … sick buggers the lot of them.”