text: “Alexander, I need you to make me an oath.” My brother, Edmund, said. His eyes never left the fresh graves of his wife and son. “Of course, what is it that you had in mind?” I replied. “If I was to ever turn, I want you to put me down.” A stiff breeze blew through our family’s estate as I stood there dumbstruck and confounded. How would one respond to such a mad request? Edmund turned to me; his eyes glazed with tears as he struggled to keep his composure. “Please, I beg of you.” As I attempted to respond, he collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands. The emotional dam burst, and he began to bawl. He cried with a ghastly symphony of howls and sniffles as he lamented the loss of his true love as well as his flesh and blood. I crouched down to his level and held him like a father holds a pained child. I rubbed his back in a bid to calm him down. “Listen, Edmund.” He did not stop but quieted down to let me know that he would listen. I let out a deep sigh, “I do not think that it will ever come to that point.” I stopped for a second and thought it over. The sheer thought of my little brother turning into one of those things sent a chill down my spine. I shook away the thought and continued, “But if it did, I would be the one to put you out of your suffering. You have my word.” That was years ago, 1891 to be exact. We both went our separate ways after that. The corruption was difficult for all people no matter who they were or where they were. No one is quite sure how it started. Some believed it to be a plague brought in through the east. Others believed it is a worldwide hex created by a witch resurgence in the United States. There are even those who would believe that it is divine punishment. The hows, whats, and whys don’t matter right now. Whatever it is, it has the horrific effect of transforming people into horrific, deadly, and unstable monsters. Before they are turned, people described someone, or something, had called out to them with the offer of great power to help them. It makes sense because those that are turned are always those in need or in pain, whether it be physical or emotional. Normally, their call is easily disregarded, but fear and desperation can take anyone to the brink. No two Turned are the same, the corruption relied on the person’s own personality as well as their wants and needs. In my time, I have witnessed horrid mutations like a young lady who suffered from a phobia of fire turn into a hideous witch with the gift of pyromancy, or an old man terrified of growing old and frail become a volatile mountain of muscle. These people known as the *Turned* are hazardous and are to be exterminated at once. Now, Edmund was a gifted doctor and used our families wealth to put himself through medical school. He even started his own office at the manor, so that he could help more people. After the corruption, his skills were in high demand as many had either fallen to the corruption or became victims of the Turned. The English military even hired him to exclusively use his services. As for me, I wasn’t that smart. Being the first born son, my parents had left almost everything to me, but I rejected it. I instead opted to give it to Edmund, I knew he would make better use of it. I always knew I would join the English Navy. I joined up as early as I could and made a name for myself as a skilled enforcer and rifleman. That eventually led to me in my current job of eradicating the Turned for the English military. The last thing I wanted was to receive notice that my family’s manor was labeled by the military as lost to the Turned. Unfortunately, that is exactly what I received. I immediately gathered my supplies and set off for the manor, I knew what I had to do, and I dreaded it. The estate was a good couple of hours outside of London on horseback. I couldn’t use those new motorized vehicles, they were too loud and unreliable for my job, so a couple of horses and a wagon worked fine. I had left after midnight; it was safer to travel that way. The cover of darkness masked my approach, and the rain dampened my noise. The wind howled like a wolf, and the rain poured like a waterfall, blanketed in darkness and water these were less than optimal conditions, but I had to make do. I saw it from miles out, the beacon of light that was the manor sliced through the darkness. I followed the road, a splash of water echoed with each step of my horses. As I approached the front gate, I noticed that it was already open. Hardly a surprise since others like me had already been dispatched to the manor, but they never returned. With the chill of the night having set in on me and my horses, I directed them to a nearby stable that we had in the entrance. I had hopped off the wagon and splashed mud on my boots and trousers. I sighed at the discomfort and untied my horses from the wagon and left them in the stable so they can rest in an area not drenched in rain. The patter of rain filled my ears as I stepped back to my wagon and pulled out my weapons. First was an old family heirloom, a bastard sword that I had refurbished for combat. Its shiny steel surface sullied by scratches and notches in the blade, each one represented a Turned that had been ended by the sword’s cold metal. Second, an experimental lever action shotgun that I had commissioned from the John Moses and Matthew Sandefur Browning Company in the United States. Lastly, a simple knife that I acquired in my time in the Navy. These Turned were supernatural in nature, but they required no special process to put them down. No holy water, no garlic, and no silver. If it could kill your fellow man, then it could kill them. I slung the gun over my shoulder then holstered the sword on my waist and approached the entrance. I took care to not to slip on the smooth stone steps as I came upon the front door. Mere inches from the door, I took a deep breath and steeled myself for what had to be done. I grasped the cold iron handle of the door and pushed. The heavy wooden entrance gave way and creaked as it exposed the inside of my old home. I then stepped in and forced the door shut behind me as the wind tried to keep it open. I pressed my back against the door and surveyed my surroundings. The wall sconces were lit up and the chandeliers glowed. Beyond the smell of wet leather that emanated from me, I made out the smoky scent of lit fireplaces as their flames danced against the darkness. Their radiant heat warmed the manor but failed to cut through my damp clothes and chilled armor. It was quiet, but the drum-like sound of rain against the window and the persistent howl of wind was all that reached my ears. I unslung my gun and clutched it in the leather wrapped underbelly of my hands. I cautiously walked forward being careful to produce as little noise as possible. The further I moved in, the more the dreadful sickly sweet scent of decay reached my nose. The scent of death was so fierce that I could taste it. A bitter and sour flavor that made my face scrunch up. As I rounded a corner, I froze in my tracks. There down the hall were several bodies mangled and twisted. With my gun leveled I approached, my heart like a steam engine in my chest. As I got closer, I could see that they were well in the stages of decay with dark and bloated skin with a horrific stench that emanated from them. Their uniforms informed me that they were some of the soldiers sent in before me. I attempt to investigate further, but from behind me I hear him talk. “Alexander?” I slowly turn around and that is when I see what my brother has become. “What are you doing here? You shake as if in fear.” His voice broken into two separate vocalizations that spoke in unison. He was horribly altered. His unkempt light brown hair and light green eyes remained, but his body was not the same. He was two full heads taller and wider than me. Long gaunt arms the length of a man hung at his sides each with deformed fingers that ended in large keratin daggers. The sour stench of death came from his now dark purple skin. But his most prominent feature was the massive cavity in his chest. One could fit a whole child in there. “E-Edmund.” I barely get out as I shook like a dog in the rain. I take a deep breath, “Edmund, I’ve come to fulfill my oath to you.” Edmund’s eyes move around slightly as he tries to remember. His eyes widen quickly. “No, I’m so close, you cannot. My actions would be for naught.” He said. Confused I lowered my gun and asked, “What are you talking about?”. He replied, “My brave son and beautiful wife. I have to bring them back to life.” I snapped back, “All you are doing is killing innocent people.” I quickly readied my gun at his head as I could feel the tears as they took shape in my eyes. “You made me take an oath, years ago.” I lowered my finger onto the trigger, “If you were to turn, I would put you out of your misery, brother.” I paused a moment, “I’m here to make good on my oath, I’m sorry, Edmund.” I pulled the trigger, but it went awry as the tip of my gun was forced up and redirected the shotgun blast away from Edmund as he furiously scurried away as dust and debris fell from the newly minted hole in the ceiling. The thing holding my gun was one of the bodies from before, but now reanimated. “What in God’s--” before I could finish, the newly risen corpse repeatedly thrusted a broken saber at me. It managed to pierce my coat several times, but not the metal cuirass I had underneath. I kicked it as hard as I could in its ribs with a loud crack as it tumbled backwards. A dent in his dark blue coat appeared where my foot connected. While it struggled to get up as its limbs lagged behind its torso, I pulled the lever back on my gun. The spent brass casing crashed on the floor with a heavy clang. With a new round in the chamber, I put my foot down on the body to keep it steady as I aimed and fired at its head. A disgusting spray of dark half-rotten grey matter and clotted blood drenched the wall in front of me as the loud thump of the shotgun blast echoed through the manor. “Please, Alexander, leave me. Get out of here now and flee.” Edmund’s voice echoed through the hall. There was still part of him inside that creature, but that only strengthened my resolve. I needed to keep my oath to him. I exited the now soiled hallway I made my way to the room where Edmund did all his work, his study. The trek to his study was a quiet one, save for the rain outside and the distant sound of footsteps. There were more of those creatures in the manor; he had killed many and resurrected them all as part of a horrific experiment, a desperate bid to get his wife and son back. But nothing worked, so he kept at it until the military caught wind and sent soldiers out. As I was within sight of his study, I could hear a commotion behind me. It got louder and louder until a large group of those same resurrected creatures charged at me. I panicked and fired off my remaining five shells at them where a few fell to the buckshot lead wall. I decided to make a mad dash for the study, I had to end this now. I slung the shotgun over my shoulder and sprinted down the hall. The door nearly splintered when I slammed it open and I closed it tight, locked it, and threw a heavy oak cabinet over it. With my left side now in pain from tackling the door, I saw Edmund who stood in the corner, motionless as he looked my way. Sadness and anger welled up in me as I unsheathed my sword. “No more running, Edmund. I can’t stand seeing you like this. I’m putting you out of your misery!” I yelled out to him. “Leave now-.” I didn’t care what he tried to say, I charged at him and swung down as hard as I could. He attempted to block with his arms, but the blade cleaved through one arm and damaged the other. Viscous dark blood screamed from his wounds as it filled the room with its vile metallic scent. He roared out at me like an enraged bear. He used his remaining good hand and struck me back. I flew backwards into his bookshelf with a large thud. I gasped for air as I struggled to get on my hands and knees with my newly dented chest plate. Books tumbled down around me while I reached for my sword, but Edmund grabbed me. He dug his claws into my shoulders around the armor and one claw rested on my face. He slowly squeezed with each claw driving itself further into me like a hot knife through butter. As blood trickled down my face, I reached into my coat and pulled out my spare knife. With all the strength I could muster, I brought the knife to the underside of his arm and sawed my way to bone. With his tendons cut, his grip vanished, and I worked my way free. After a yelp of pain then a quick stumble, I reacquired my sword and brought it down on his neck. The blade stuck halfway in, but I placed my foot on his shoulder and yanked. Blood sputtered from his neck as he reached up at me with limp fingers. I readied my sword and swung once more. The blade cleaved through the remainder of his neck. His head was severed and dropped to the ground with a thud. I breathed a sigh of relief as I looked down at my bloodstained sword when I heard several other thuds beyond the door. I peeked out to find the reanimated dead once again, their source of power gone. I looked over at the corpse at what was my brother and collapsed, both from exhaustion and grief. I never thought that he would be one to turn, but it seems that it could happen to anyone. I took his body out of his study. Turned or not, he deserved a proper burial. I buried his corpse right next to the wife and child he cared so much for. He wanted them back so badly that he let himself become corrupted. As I stood there over the same graves where my oath was made, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could be next to turn. I could hear the dreaded call of the corruption as I stood there with tears in my eyes at his grave.