THE DEATH KNELL-Chapter 41: THE HUNGER THAT NEVER END

Barbara's breath hitched at the revelation Slade Wilson had just described. The very thought of white light spreading unchecked sent an uneasy shiver down her spine. It was an unfathomable horror—an existence where no life could be taken, no creature could perish.

If neither plants nor animals could die, that meant there would be nothing left to eat. And yet, in this cruel paradox, humans, too, would be cursed with immortality—endlessly starving but never allowed to succumb. The mere thought of such a fate was unbearable. The gnawing, eternal hunger. The hollow pain of deprivation with no release. In that moment, Barbara thought she would rather welcome death than endure an eternity of starvation.

Slade, however, was less concerned with the emotional weight of the situation. His mind was locked onto a single question: Why are there White Light batteries here?

While he remained lost in thought, Vic focus was elsewhere. The grizzled soldier barked an order to Pete, instructing him to document the carnage. Pete, already pale from retching, hesitated as he lifted his camera with trembling hands. The sight of the decayed, densely packed corpses was overwhelming. The putrid stench clung to the air, thick and nauseating. Pete dry-heaved once more, but his stomach had already been emptied—there was nothing left to vomit.

Cindy moved with measured steps, walking up beside Slade as she casually leaned against the cold metal wall. The door to the next room loomed beside them, waiting to reveal whatever horrors lay beyond. She twirled her pistol idly in her grip, her fingers brushing over the textured mesh of the handle, an unconscious habit formed through years of combat.

She broke the silence first. "So, black light? You took that container. What exactly does it do?"

Slade exhaled slowly, his voice even and measured. "Black Light is death, plain and simple. It reanimates the dead into mindless, obedient thralls—puppets serving the will of the Black Death Emperor."

He turned slightly, patting Barbara on the shoulder as if to ground her back to the moment. Then, without hesitation, he pulled open the door before continuing, "Even those who were resurrected before will fall under its control the moment Black Light touches them. It drags them back to the grave. As for its full effects... I have a theory, but I need more proof."

Cindy frowned, glancing at the lifeless corpses littering the room. "But those zombies back there didn't seem controlled. I don't know who this 'Black Death Emperor' is, but they were clearly acting on instinct, not orders."

She punctuated her observation by delivering a sharp kick to a headless corpse. The lifeless body shifted slightly, and thick, blackened blood oozed from its open chest cavity like tar.

Slade narrowed his gaze, scanning the bodies. There was no mark of the Black Lantern Legion on their chests. That much was certain. They weren't controlled. Just walking, rotting husks.

"I don't know why this battery exists here at all," he admitted, holstering his pistol with a slow, deliberate motion. "But if we're already dealing with magic and alien energy, then we need to stay sharp. This is only the beginning."

Cindy scoffed, rolling her shoulders. "Let them come," she muttered. "I'm actually curious to see what kind of freaks these so-called 'scientists' have created."

The Living Forest

The door hissed open once more. This time, the room beyond was... different.

Gone were the sterile, metallic surfaces and cold experimental tools of the previous chambers. In their place was an explosion of untamed greenery. Thick moss blanketed the ground and walls, soft underfoot, muffling their steps. Vines draped lazily from above, swaying ever so slightly despite the stillness of the air. Fallen leaves crunched softly beneath their boots, and above them, a massive tree stretched toward an artificial sun—high-intensity electric lights that bathed the space in an eerie, manufactured daylight.

It didn't make sense.

There had been no light before they opened the door. In theory, these plants shouldn't even be alive. And yet, here they thrived.

There were no visible animals, but strange fungi and brilliantly colored flowers clustered at the base of the tree, growing in unnatural formations.

Cindy adjusted her stance, noting the dampness in the air. "Humidity's rising. Is this some kind of rainforest simulation? A break room for the scientists?"

She extended a hand, motioning for the others to hold back at the doorway.

Slade's lips curled into a slight smirk. "Unlikely. The last room was filled with zombies. Do you really think this was meant as a lunch spot? You'd think the scientists would want to avoid becoming the meal."

Without another word, he raised his gun and fired a test shot at the towering tree.

The bullet struck, sending a spray of splinters into the air. But then—something unexpected happened.

The tree moved.

It shuddered as if breathing. The vines began to recoil, then lashed outward like living whips.

Slade barely dodged the first strike, the thick vine carving a deep gouge into the metal flooring.

"Well," Cindy huffed, rolling beside him. "Looks like we found the Swamp Monster's angrier cousin."

She hated dealing with plants. If she'd known, she would've packed herbicide.

Slade barked a quick order, signaling the rest of the team to retreat into the previous room. Then, dodging another vicious strike, he called out, "Plants have weaknesses beyond herbicide!"

Cindy gritted her teeth, slicing a vine in half with her blade, but more kept coming. "Yeah? And what's this one's weak spot?"

"Fire. We don't have hellfire or superpowers, but think—plants don't have eyes. How does it see us?"

Realization struck. Poison Ivy's plants had relied on vibrations before. This one had to be doing the same.

"Got it! I'll create a bigger vibration. You take it down!"

Cindy pulled two grenades from her belt and hurled them into the corners of the room.

Two seconds later, twin explosions rocked the chamber.

The vines reared back, twitching and writhing, drawn toward the new disturbance.

Slade took his chance.

Updat𝒆d fr𝑜m freewebnøvel.com.

He sprinted forward, weaving through the chaos, dodging roots that burst from the ground. The base of the tree was thick, surrounded by fungi and metallic remnants swallowed by years of growth.

Without hesitation, he pulled explosives from his pack, setting the charges at the massive roots.

Cindy continued drawing the vines away.

Slade pressed the detonator. "Take cover!"

A deafening blast shook the room. Leaves and bark exploded outward, filling the air with thick debris.

A sickly green sap splattered across Slade's armor, its scent an unnatural mix of grass and decay.

The vines gave one final, desperate twitch—then fell limp.

Cindy dusted herself off, nudging a severed root with her boot. "That was dramatic."

Slade exhaled, surveying the ruined tree. "Problem solved. But that was a lot of noise. If Falcone's below us, he knows we're here now."

Cindy smirked. "Good. I want to see what he does when he realizes exactly who he's dealing with."