It was just around dawn that the gunshot woke Kelly up. She didn't mind so much, as her dreams had dipped into faces and memories that she really didn't want to revisit. It was a rough sleep, but sleep, none the less. The falling temperatures made her hammock, suspended high in the tree she'd climbed to escape the ghouls, a very breezy affair. With a silent sigh of complaint, aimed at no one, she finally unzipped her thick jacket and peered out of her camo colored bed. There didn't seem to be any movement near by, but she did spy a herd of the dead heading towards a nearby hill.
Kelly had learned to be almost silent when moving around, producing half a binocular and using it as a telescope, from a pocket deep in her coat. Without rustling the dead leaves and snow around her she was able to get the sight of a man who was lying on his back, gun in hand, just before the ghouls descended upon him. She pondered his dilemma for a moment, then decided it was too late to do anything, anyways. Tired limbs and a sore core were all stretched inside her swinging bed before it was all stuffed into a pack and slung.
Quick as she could she climbed down the tall tree, its various limbs supporting her small frame, and soon after her boots silently sunk into the snow on the ground. 'I hope you found peace, sir.' she thought as she turned away from the hill and began walking. Her legs pushed through the foot or so of snow easily, making her trek easy, but she still kept a weary eye. She remembered once there had been a ghoul that was just under the snow, not even a foot of it, and it popped up and...She shook the memory from her head.
Avoiding the cornfield was easy, but it also meant heading in a different direction before having to correct to the one she wanted to go. It wasn't too much trouble, but it was a risk. The woods became a bit thicker, trees and their off-white bark hid paths and maybe threats, and it all put Kelly on edge. It was the first pause of the midmorning and she used it to go to the bathroom, unpack her recurve bow, and ready a quiver full of arrows. It was hard looking at the weapon, even after all this time. All she could see was her husband's hands wrapped around hers, teaching her how to use it.
Another memory that had to be shaken away, just as she finished the second to last can of tuna she had. She began walking again, paying close attention to all the noises the world made, all the creaks and groans of the trees trying to thaw in the midday sun, the occasional shuffle of snow that fell from the branches, the few and far in between moans that would surface from places she couldn't see. Despite the temperature Kelly's brow was slick with sweat, the moans had become persistent, but she couldn't see the source.
Crouched low and her pace slowed, the world seemed quiet and at the same time screaming with danger, every step was precarious and taken with near paranoid caution. Just ahead the trees broke into a small clearing, there was two tents, and the source of the moans. At the tree line Kelly stayed very still, crouched behind a thicker tree, surveying the camp ground she'd found. She whistled, but no one answered, except the ghoul she had yet to spot. She whistled again, and nocked an arrow at the same time, again, only moans.
The fire pit had long gone cold, the tents were both still with the flaps hanging open on both. Kelly's footsteps were silent as she circled the inside of the small campsite, looking for the source of the noise. She came to the first tent, inside lay two corpses, they hadn't died of natural causes. Each of the bodies were mutilated, chunks of flesh and muscle missing, but there were no bite marks. The flesh had been cut off, like a butcher would do to a cow, clean pieces of defined anatomy. Both of the faces were covered with a piece of dark cloth, their slit throats barely visible.
The cold had slowed the decay, but they were long since beginning to rot. Kelly could feel her stomach turn as the thought of them being killed and eaten by other humans came to her mind. She fought to keep her nausea down. In the second tent the story became more grim. Three blankets over three bodies. Two of them were small, children, probably no older than 10, the other a female. The blankets stuck to their foreheads where the blood from the single bullet wound had killed them. At their feet was a note held down by a small rock.
'I couldn't let them starve. Forgive me, God.' Movement caught Kelly's eye and she stood tall, arrow pulled back and pointed at the potential threat. Just behind the tents, in the tree line, was a man hanging from a branch, rope around his throat. His hands had been chewed down to the wrist, his legs nothing more than bones and pieces of sinew hanging from what was left of his thighs. At the sight of her he twisted in his noose, his stumps raised and stretched out for her. Dried lips that had been peeled back worked in unison with the moans, yellow, half rotted teeth snapped open and closed at the promise of flesh.
Anger flared up in Kelly and she aimed for his head. The arrow didn't find it's mark and instead stuck in the tree trunk, the branch holding him broke. Bones cracked loudly as they splintered when he hit the floor, the moaning was growing louder. Kelly was still fueled by anger and wasted no time, she ran over, unsheathed her knife, and plunged it hilt deep into the top of it's skull. Suddenly all the memories she'd suppressed all day flooded in and her eyes stung with tears. She pulled her blade free and sat back on her knees as she cried silently.
Images and sounds and smells and voices of her sister, brother, father, husband, best friend all rushed through her mind. Their lives, and then, ultimately, their deaths. Each one played like it just happened that morning. Her hand absent mindedly wiped away the tears as the last words her husband spoke came anew, like a recording, "I'll always love you. Keep living. For me. Please..." She sobbed once more and began catching her breath, running her hand through her short, blonde hair.
After a minute or two she was okay, shakily she found her feet. She took a long, deep breath, letting it out into the cold air, a cloud that proved she was alive. After her hands settled she retrieved her arrow from the tree, and it gave her trouble, not wanting to come out from it's half frozen new home. With a grunt it finally came free and then joined the rest of the arrows in the quiver on Kelly's waist. 'I'll keep living. As long as I can.' she thought to herself as she prepared to move on.
Careful thinking was quickly replaced by panic as she looked around at the once silent woods that were now filled with ghouls. She let out a gasp as they just kept appearing, like waves of locust, finally they set eyes on her. The world was filled with moans of hunger, like a chorus of the damned conducted by death, himself. She ran, as hard as she could, to the nearest gap in the wall of rotted and rotting flesh, avoiding swipes and grasping fingers. As she passed by more of them began to voice their want.
Her pack slapped against her back, rattling the contents, not that stealth mattered anymore. There were so many, and each of them only saw one source of flesh. She didn't want to end up like that man, not like any of them, not like her husband. The white barked trees stopped and gave way to smooth ground. But that, too, soon ended. Kelly's toes were on the line of a ravine, a river thick with ice, far down below. She gripped her bow and turned around, nocking an arrow, ready to face her fate. They poured out of the woods, stumbling, shambling, moaning, reaching towards her.
She let her arrow fly, plunging through a ripe head as it exploded it's grey and black contents out of the back. The decision came quick and she acted on it just as quickly. She slung her bow over her shoulder and crossed her arms across her chest. She took a deep breath and held it. Gravity took over just as she closed her eyes. She fell what felt like forever, the wind deafening her as her body shook. The water caught her with harsh arms and quickly covered her in liquid ice. She couldn't tell if she was alive.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
The Burnt World: Part Two (Original Short)
Even with sunglasses on Job had to sometimes shield his eyes from the harsh sun above and the even harsher winds that blew across the sand laden landscape that he was walking through. Above him the sky was turning a dark purple and the horizon still shone white with a heavy tint of yellow at the edges, the clouds above crackled with blue lightning and thunder that shook the very earth beneath his feet. He'd been walking for two days since his run in with the three cannibals. He hadn't stopped. He didn't think he could.
The road before him must have been a freeway when the world was still alive. Sand had blown away in several spots, revealing the pavement and even a little bit of paint every now and then. The black pillar of smoke still rose off in the distance, his destination. Through waves of heat that danced up from the floor he could see creatures off in the distance, dark silhouettes that seemed to be twisted physically past anything he'd recognize. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but he was still too leery to try and take anything down, despite his new collection of knives.
There was no way to tell time, but Job knew that the day was waning. As he continued a billboard confirmed that the road beneath his feet was a highway. It was metal and bent in half from the winds, solid for the most part, but the writing had worn off except for a letter or two. With all the weathering the sign had been shaped into a pseudo cave. Behind the sign he studied loomed clouds that were pouring rain out on the horizon, but heading for him. The sign would provide adequate shelter for the storm. It seemed that nature chose for him to rest, after all.
With a great amount of caution Job approached the edge of the structure that stuck over the edge of the road. 'No impulses, this time.' he thought to himself as he thoroughly checked for booby traps and any kind of pitfalls. After a few minutes more than he thought were necessary the search was complete and all was safe. As quietly as possible a bed and a trap for the only way in was quickly put into place. Job considered a fire, but then reconsidered when true darkness fell and things began crawling out from hidden crevices and places safe from the rays of the sun.
Though night had fallen and the world was near pitch black the lightning that never seemed to stop lit the landscape rather well. Outside Job could see the things that crept in the night. Insects close to four feet tall, four legs on it's back end, two large ones on the front, skin as pale as the sand. Each one clicked and brayed as they combed over the soil, their mouths looked like the mouth of a bass lined large, white, sharp teeth. There were about a dozen, maybe more, littered across the highway, the closest to him less than thirty feet away. Job watched closely as the thing found his faint footsteps with it's eight eyes.
Silently a knife was pulled from a cloth sheath, ready for what may come. It kept sniffing, braying and chittering as it followed the path to the bent sign he was hidden in. His eyes went as wide as they could, trying to let more light in to better judge the distance between him and the creature. Ice was running through his veins, muscles hard and ready, panic trying to creep into the back of his mind as the thing raised it's terrible snout at the very spot he was at. 'This is it. Fight for your life.' Job thought as the creature opened it's double hinged jaw to spoil his hiding spot. As it's grotesque sides inflated with air to sound the alarm a long, black, slimy tentacle speared it.
The appendage descended from above, thick as a man's waist, covered in what seemed to be mucus, and black as the night, except for the bioluminescent strings of purple and blue light pulsating just beneath the glossy surface. Job's eyes didn't close a bit as the thing screamed and writhed at the end of the terrible spike. The sound caused the rest of the smaller monstrosities to flee. Job was at least grateful for that. With as little movement as he could he crept to the opening and traced the ascending one that had been caught.
Up and up and up his head tilted, following the inevitability. Four long, giant legs with knees that bent like an ostrich's hoisted a body that was also black save for the bioluminescence. It was hard to discern the creature from the sky, but the pulsing lights made it at least possible. The body looked like a gigantic fish with no tail, the mouth made of four muscular flaps that opened up to reveal a row of shark like teeth which proceeded to bite the thing it had captured in half once, spilling purple blood everywhere. Again it bit down, leaving only part of the head and jaws to be discarded as another tentacle zipped down after the fleeing horde to get another.
The slimy tendrils seemed to come from an orifice just beneath the thing's mouth, seven in all. The giant walked slowly, covering massive ground, the thick body swaying some forty feet in the air as it went. It trumpeted a triumphant blast, that sounded like a foghorn, as it scooped another piece of prey, the sound so loud Job had to cover his ears. All the things gone, for now, he slid back into his makeshift cave, panic replaced with genuine fear. 'Dear God what has the world become?' he thought to himself as his eyes closed slowly.
Unsure of the time that had passed Job opened his eyes to the pitter of rain on his cave roof. Ache still resided in him from walking and not eating, but he forced his burning orbs open as the rain moved past the mouth of his shelter. A fantastic opportunity had been afforded to him, he thought, as he grabbed an empty water bottle and began to crawl towards the falling water. He paused when he saw the droplets begin to hit the severed head of the creature that had spotted him. Another crushing feeling as his heart sank lower and lower as he watched.
The light brown skin and shell began to bubble and boil with each drop, in a matter of a minute or two the first layer sloughed off, smoldering to nothing in a small pool. Next the muscle beneath, following suit, as it smoked and roiled, then fell off or dissolved completely. The bone lasted the longest, after all the soft tissue had been washed and burned away, it soon would smoke and eventually pool into marrow and bits in the acid rain. 'No wonder there are no bones out there.' Job thought to himself as he resumed sleeping.
Heat made sleep impossible and a few hours later Job was on the move again. The sun shone harsh and the winds were dry again, as if the rain had never happened. Not being able to collect water made him wonder where the water he'd gotten from those cannibals had come from. Deciding not to worry about it he concentrated on moving towards that pillar of smoke off in the distance. He wasn't a scientist, but he tried to use logic to try and figure out what animals those things had come from. It helped pass the time.
Walking seemed to be the best way to cover ground, not too fast, not too slow, and at a pace where he didn't get thirsty. Though hunger was now an issue. In his pack he had a couple of cans with no labels, he was unsure of the contents and was hoping to save them for emergencies, but he was hungry now. The end of the freeway he was walking on presented itself, and an opportunity to rest in the underpass of the broken structure. It looked like he had hit an overpass and another highway lie beneath it. A line of skeletal cars stretched for a while in each direction, all abandoned, all rusted to near nothing.
Using a knife he cut open a can, smelling the contents. Job's face twisted as the aroma of what smelled like dog food assaulted him. It took a minute, but he decided it was better than nothing. To avoid a gag reflex he finished it quickly, cleaning the can and putting it back in his pack for further uses. About to give up his shaded spot to continue his journey he saw something he didn't expect: other people. They didn't seem to have seen him as they continued to walk right past his spot. The concrete between him and them, in a pile and rubble, had given him a vantage point.
It was a man and a woman, both dressed in tattered rags, each had a bag slung over their shoulders. Job stayed low and watched them, looking for weapons of any kind. The people moved slow and checked the cars for any supplies. A knife slipped it's sheath and was ready for anything that may come Job's way. It never did. Movement and screaming erupted in the valley he sat above, followed soon by violence.
The people were ambushed by four men brandishing clubs made from various materials, dressed in nothing but strips of clothing like native americans, and all four grotesquely misshapen and mutated in one form or another. They descended on the couple like a pack of dogs, whooping and crying at their new found prey. The two tried to flee, but it was too late, their pursuers moved way too fast. The male had his head bashed in and his clothing stripped away by two of the pack. The woman was not as lucky.
The other two of the pack tackled her to the floor and ripped off her rags, exposing her lightly tanned skin and healthy body, then she was held down. She pleaded with them, right up until the moment they began to bite at her flesh, ripping and tearing chunks away. Pleas became screams. Screams became strangled choking and gagging sounds as they tore open her abdomen, pulling out things to eat. Job couldn't look away from the carnage. Blood flowed from her mouth as she still tried to form words, but only made wet gurgles of pain. Her brown eyes locked with Job's for a moment. He watched the life leave them.
Job stayed a long while, as long as it took, for the cannibals to strip the woman's body down to nearly the bone. He stayed as still as the rocks that hid him, his eyes glued to the travesty that had happened right in front of him. The four left, laughing and wiping their mouths, tied the male up and dragged him along. One final look confirmed the man was still alive. There was nothing to be done. He was sure they were gone, but Job waited a bit longer. The climb down the small pieces of concrete was easy. He walked between the still cars, to the clearing where the woman's remains were.
He knelt and said a prayer for her, wishing her soul an easy journey into the next life. The want to search the cars was gone, the want to stay was gone, now he just wanted answers. The thoughts came like a torrent. If he'd known what would have happened to the world or what he would have woken up to he would have never volunteered for the program. He was only a convict by name. Court marshalled for killing killers that wore the same uniform as him. 'You don't have to be executed. We can make you part of the Cryo program.' they told him. He cursed their names. He'd sleep for 80 years and be reawakened and reintroduced into society. If the process was successful.
What went wrong? How long was he asleep? Why only now did he wake up? What happened to the world? His head swam with all the things that needed answering. Some noise nagged at him from the outside world. A clicking type noise. He couldn't be bothered with it right now. It persisted. Click click click click. The hiss is what brought him out of his thoughts. His body stopped and straightened, his head whipped left and right trying to find what made the noise. He found it. To his left, in the sand, and just a few feet away.
It looked like a centipede, but near twelve feet long, a deep red body with black spikes protruding randomly, eight black eyes, and long pincers coated with venom. It stood the first portion of it's body straight up, already the size of Job's six foot body. It hissed again and he slowly started to back away, moving in a deliberate retreat. Another hiss and he sped his retreat. Job guessed it wasn't satisfied as it gave chase. He ran towards the black smoke, hoping it would be another person, even cannibals would be acceptable at this point. Clicks and hisses from the angry insect were right behind him.
The pavement beneath his feet ended somewhere underground and now there was nothing but soft sand, which made running harder for him, but not his pursuer. It was gaining. Quickly. Options sped through Job's mind, all of them ended in his death. His legs pushed harder as he dared not look back, but let fear fuel him. Ahead of him, in the sand, was a sinkhole about six or so feet across. A plan formed quickly. He bee lined straight for it, hoping it would trip the creature up enough to let him escape. He was struck in the back, his pack absorbing whatever damage had been dealt. At the edge of the hole in the sand he leapt.
He rolled with his landing, but the sand was too soft for him to recover. He drew a knife and flipped onto his back, ready for the giant thing to descend upon him. Half it's body made it over the sinkhole, then it stopped dead in it's tracks and started screeching in pain as it suddenly folded in half. Something was living beneath the sand and was now making a meal of the insect chasing him. It's sharp claws dug at the sand, trying to get away, but to no avail. A plume of soft sand shot up as it got pulled further down into the sinkhole. Then another. It disappeared and the shrieking stopped.
Job panted for a moment, catching his breath and laying very still, watching the place where the centipede had been taken. Whatever lived beneath the sand was happy for now, he guessed. Cautiously he got up and moved further away. As he wiped sweat from his brow he began to wonder where the black smoke was coming from, but his question was answered before it was finished. Just ahead of him sat a church. A full, intact, church. It had it's bell, it's doors, and a fence around it meant to keep out invaders.
Black smoke came from the small apartment's chimney attached to the side of the structure in a steady pace. The fence looked to be made of sticks, barbed wire, razor wire, and whatever else might fit. Job didn't sheath his knife as he called out, taking a very big risk. "Hello?" It was a while coming, but someone responded, "Hello!" A man stumbled out of the doors, a cane in hand, sunglasses on, and clothed like a priest. His skin seemed normal, save for the left side of his face that looked like he'd been in a fire. The man looked around, craning his neck to listen better, his white, stringy hair waving around as he did. He appeared to be in his late sixties.
"Hello?" The man called again. He was blind. "Hello." Job responded. "Who is that? Who are you? I've not heard your voice before." The old man looked nervous and clutched his cane, ready to defend himself. "I'm not from here. My name is Job. I...I don't know where I am." Though the man approached, Job stayed very still. "Job? Like the Book of Job in the bible? Oh, good fortune. Oh, good fortune, indeed. What are you doing back here?" he asked as he hobbled forwards. "I've been travelling for a few days from back that way. I was following your smoke from your chimney."
The man looked very confused, "Back that way? That's the nethers, my good boy. There's nothing out there but death and fall out." Job looked over his shoulder and nodded, "Yeah. Tell me about it. Look. I woke up a few days ago in a facility a while back that way. I don't understand what's happened. Can you help me?" Suspicion creased the brow of the blind man and after a moment he spoke, "My name is Jebidiah. You'd best come inside if you're to learn, my son." Job thanked him and ducked through the fence, managing to dodge all the sharp metal.
The church was empty, save for a few pews made of rotted and rotting wood, a giant cross, and a few shelves with candles burning on them. Job sheathed the knife he had in his hand and followed Jebidiah to a pew at the front of the church. "Sit, my boy, sit. Tell me your tale." Job complied and did just that, explaining his military career, his imprisonment, and the things he'd seen. Jebidiah sat still, listening intently and carefully, only asking a question when he didn't understand something. After Job was done there was a long silence, which he broke, "What happened, Jebidiah?"
The priest nodded and sighed before he began, "Two hundred and thirty years ago there was a great war. The last great war. Not for politics, or land, or oil, or any other reason that had plagued mankind back then, but for religion. The economy had fallen to shambles and people sought answers, so they turned naturally to their churches. Each one claimed to know, claimed that they would fix all, claimed all would be well. Soon so many factions turned into just three. Christianity, Catholicism, and Trinidites. The Trinidites were a new church, founded by those with money and power, seeking to reclaim their throne atop the world. It didn't work. They all went to war."
"Holy money funded new weapons, new forms of killing, and in the end, the final weapon. The Christians wielded it, claiming to save mankind from itself. The thing was a double edged sword in the guise of a series of bombs dropped from orbit. 'Michael's Wrath', they called it. The first series of bombs were high impact EMP's, destroying all electronics. The second series....well." He sighed deeply before going on. "They were the real wrath. Hydrogen by design, but in the end nothing more than napalm fueled by nuclear power. They scorched the earth. Burnt it." Job sat back in a cold sweat, taking in the brief history of life after he'd been frozen. He felt sick and dizzy, lost and abandoned, speechless.
"I need to lie down. Is that okay?" was all Job could manage. "Lie down, son, lie down. You're safe here." Job stretched out on the pew as Jebidiah got up, but had to ask one last question, "Jebidiah, if the church did that why would you build one?" The old priest stopped and turned around with a gentle smile, "This isn't a church of God, son, it's a church of mankind. God and his followers promised us all would be well, all those years ago. It ruined us. Mankind had to build itself back up, find faith in something else. And because of them...all did not end well. Despite their attempts. All did not end well." Job was almost asleep as the priest left the room, but he had to repeat those words once more, they felt like the truth of his entire situation was distilled down to them, "All did not end well..."
The road before him must have been a freeway when the world was still alive. Sand had blown away in several spots, revealing the pavement and even a little bit of paint every now and then. The black pillar of smoke still rose off in the distance, his destination. Through waves of heat that danced up from the floor he could see creatures off in the distance, dark silhouettes that seemed to be twisted physically past anything he'd recognize. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but he was still too leery to try and take anything down, despite his new collection of knives.
There was no way to tell time, but Job knew that the day was waning. As he continued a billboard confirmed that the road beneath his feet was a highway. It was metal and bent in half from the winds, solid for the most part, but the writing had worn off except for a letter or two. With all the weathering the sign had been shaped into a pseudo cave. Behind the sign he studied loomed clouds that were pouring rain out on the horizon, but heading for him. The sign would provide adequate shelter for the storm. It seemed that nature chose for him to rest, after all.
With a great amount of caution Job approached the edge of the structure that stuck over the edge of the road. 'No impulses, this time.' he thought to himself as he thoroughly checked for booby traps and any kind of pitfalls. After a few minutes more than he thought were necessary the search was complete and all was safe. As quietly as possible a bed and a trap for the only way in was quickly put into place. Job considered a fire, but then reconsidered when true darkness fell and things began crawling out from hidden crevices and places safe from the rays of the sun.
Though night had fallen and the world was near pitch black the lightning that never seemed to stop lit the landscape rather well. Outside Job could see the things that crept in the night. Insects close to four feet tall, four legs on it's back end, two large ones on the front, skin as pale as the sand. Each one clicked and brayed as they combed over the soil, their mouths looked like the mouth of a bass lined large, white, sharp teeth. There were about a dozen, maybe more, littered across the highway, the closest to him less than thirty feet away. Job watched closely as the thing found his faint footsteps with it's eight eyes.
Silently a knife was pulled from a cloth sheath, ready for what may come. It kept sniffing, braying and chittering as it followed the path to the bent sign he was hidden in. His eyes went as wide as they could, trying to let more light in to better judge the distance between him and the creature. Ice was running through his veins, muscles hard and ready, panic trying to creep into the back of his mind as the thing raised it's terrible snout at the very spot he was at. 'This is it. Fight for your life.' Job thought as the creature opened it's double hinged jaw to spoil his hiding spot. As it's grotesque sides inflated with air to sound the alarm a long, black, slimy tentacle speared it.
The appendage descended from above, thick as a man's waist, covered in what seemed to be mucus, and black as the night, except for the bioluminescent strings of purple and blue light pulsating just beneath the glossy surface. Job's eyes didn't close a bit as the thing screamed and writhed at the end of the terrible spike. The sound caused the rest of the smaller monstrosities to flee. Job was at least grateful for that. With as little movement as he could he crept to the opening and traced the ascending one that had been caught.
Up and up and up his head tilted, following the inevitability. Four long, giant legs with knees that bent like an ostrich's hoisted a body that was also black save for the bioluminescence. It was hard to discern the creature from the sky, but the pulsing lights made it at least possible. The body looked like a gigantic fish with no tail, the mouth made of four muscular flaps that opened up to reveal a row of shark like teeth which proceeded to bite the thing it had captured in half once, spilling purple blood everywhere. Again it bit down, leaving only part of the head and jaws to be discarded as another tentacle zipped down after the fleeing horde to get another.
The slimy tendrils seemed to come from an orifice just beneath the thing's mouth, seven in all. The giant walked slowly, covering massive ground, the thick body swaying some forty feet in the air as it went. It trumpeted a triumphant blast, that sounded like a foghorn, as it scooped another piece of prey, the sound so loud Job had to cover his ears. All the things gone, for now, he slid back into his makeshift cave, panic replaced with genuine fear. 'Dear God what has the world become?' he thought to himself as his eyes closed slowly.
Unsure of the time that had passed Job opened his eyes to the pitter of rain on his cave roof. Ache still resided in him from walking and not eating, but he forced his burning orbs open as the rain moved past the mouth of his shelter. A fantastic opportunity had been afforded to him, he thought, as he grabbed an empty water bottle and began to crawl towards the falling water. He paused when he saw the droplets begin to hit the severed head of the creature that had spotted him. Another crushing feeling as his heart sank lower and lower as he watched.
The light brown skin and shell began to bubble and boil with each drop, in a matter of a minute or two the first layer sloughed off, smoldering to nothing in a small pool. Next the muscle beneath, following suit, as it smoked and roiled, then fell off or dissolved completely. The bone lasted the longest, after all the soft tissue had been washed and burned away, it soon would smoke and eventually pool into marrow and bits in the acid rain. 'No wonder there are no bones out there.' Job thought to himself as he resumed sleeping.
Heat made sleep impossible and a few hours later Job was on the move again. The sun shone harsh and the winds were dry again, as if the rain had never happened. Not being able to collect water made him wonder where the water he'd gotten from those cannibals had come from. Deciding not to worry about it he concentrated on moving towards that pillar of smoke off in the distance. He wasn't a scientist, but he tried to use logic to try and figure out what animals those things had come from. It helped pass the time.
Walking seemed to be the best way to cover ground, not too fast, not too slow, and at a pace where he didn't get thirsty. Though hunger was now an issue. In his pack he had a couple of cans with no labels, he was unsure of the contents and was hoping to save them for emergencies, but he was hungry now. The end of the freeway he was walking on presented itself, and an opportunity to rest in the underpass of the broken structure. It looked like he had hit an overpass and another highway lie beneath it. A line of skeletal cars stretched for a while in each direction, all abandoned, all rusted to near nothing.
Using a knife he cut open a can, smelling the contents. Job's face twisted as the aroma of what smelled like dog food assaulted him. It took a minute, but he decided it was better than nothing. To avoid a gag reflex he finished it quickly, cleaning the can and putting it back in his pack for further uses. About to give up his shaded spot to continue his journey he saw something he didn't expect: other people. They didn't seem to have seen him as they continued to walk right past his spot. The concrete between him and them, in a pile and rubble, had given him a vantage point.
It was a man and a woman, both dressed in tattered rags, each had a bag slung over their shoulders. Job stayed low and watched them, looking for weapons of any kind. The people moved slow and checked the cars for any supplies. A knife slipped it's sheath and was ready for anything that may come Job's way. It never did. Movement and screaming erupted in the valley he sat above, followed soon by violence.
The people were ambushed by four men brandishing clubs made from various materials, dressed in nothing but strips of clothing like native americans, and all four grotesquely misshapen and mutated in one form or another. They descended on the couple like a pack of dogs, whooping and crying at their new found prey. The two tried to flee, but it was too late, their pursuers moved way too fast. The male had his head bashed in and his clothing stripped away by two of the pack. The woman was not as lucky.
The other two of the pack tackled her to the floor and ripped off her rags, exposing her lightly tanned skin and healthy body, then she was held down. She pleaded with them, right up until the moment they began to bite at her flesh, ripping and tearing chunks away. Pleas became screams. Screams became strangled choking and gagging sounds as they tore open her abdomen, pulling out things to eat. Job couldn't look away from the carnage. Blood flowed from her mouth as she still tried to form words, but only made wet gurgles of pain. Her brown eyes locked with Job's for a moment. He watched the life leave them.
Job stayed a long while, as long as it took, for the cannibals to strip the woman's body down to nearly the bone. He stayed as still as the rocks that hid him, his eyes glued to the travesty that had happened right in front of him. The four left, laughing and wiping their mouths, tied the male up and dragged him along. One final look confirmed the man was still alive. There was nothing to be done. He was sure they were gone, but Job waited a bit longer. The climb down the small pieces of concrete was easy. He walked between the still cars, to the clearing where the woman's remains were.
He knelt and said a prayer for her, wishing her soul an easy journey into the next life. The want to search the cars was gone, the want to stay was gone, now he just wanted answers. The thoughts came like a torrent. If he'd known what would have happened to the world or what he would have woken up to he would have never volunteered for the program. He was only a convict by name. Court marshalled for killing killers that wore the same uniform as him. 'You don't have to be executed. We can make you part of the Cryo program.' they told him. He cursed their names. He'd sleep for 80 years and be reawakened and reintroduced into society. If the process was successful.
What went wrong? How long was he asleep? Why only now did he wake up? What happened to the world? His head swam with all the things that needed answering. Some noise nagged at him from the outside world. A clicking type noise. He couldn't be bothered with it right now. It persisted. Click click click click. The hiss is what brought him out of his thoughts. His body stopped and straightened, his head whipped left and right trying to find what made the noise. He found it. To his left, in the sand, and just a few feet away.
It looked like a centipede, but near twelve feet long, a deep red body with black spikes protruding randomly, eight black eyes, and long pincers coated with venom. It stood the first portion of it's body straight up, already the size of Job's six foot body. It hissed again and he slowly started to back away, moving in a deliberate retreat. Another hiss and he sped his retreat. Job guessed it wasn't satisfied as it gave chase. He ran towards the black smoke, hoping it would be another person, even cannibals would be acceptable at this point. Clicks and hisses from the angry insect were right behind him.
The pavement beneath his feet ended somewhere underground and now there was nothing but soft sand, which made running harder for him, but not his pursuer. It was gaining. Quickly. Options sped through Job's mind, all of them ended in his death. His legs pushed harder as he dared not look back, but let fear fuel him. Ahead of him, in the sand, was a sinkhole about six or so feet across. A plan formed quickly. He bee lined straight for it, hoping it would trip the creature up enough to let him escape. He was struck in the back, his pack absorbing whatever damage had been dealt. At the edge of the hole in the sand he leapt.
He rolled with his landing, but the sand was too soft for him to recover. He drew a knife and flipped onto his back, ready for the giant thing to descend upon him. Half it's body made it over the sinkhole, then it stopped dead in it's tracks and started screeching in pain as it suddenly folded in half. Something was living beneath the sand and was now making a meal of the insect chasing him. It's sharp claws dug at the sand, trying to get away, but to no avail. A plume of soft sand shot up as it got pulled further down into the sinkhole. Then another. It disappeared and the shrieking stopped.
Job panted for a moment, catching his breath and laying very still, watching the place where the centipede had been taken. Whatever lived beneath the sand was happy for now, he guessed. Cautiously he got up and moved further away. As he wiped sweat from his brow he began to wonder where the black smoke was coming from, but his question was answered before it was finished. Just ahead of him sat a church. A full, intact, church. It had it's bell, it's doors, and a fence around it meant to keep out invaders.
Black smoke came from the small apartment's chimney attached to the side of the structure in a steady pace. The fence looked to be made of sticks, barbed wire, razor wire, and whatever else might fit. Job didn't sheath his knife as he called out, taking a very big risk. "Hello?" It was a while coming, but someone responded, "Hello!" A man stumbled out of the doors, a cane in hand, sunglasses on, and clothed like a priest. His skin seemed normal, save for the left side of his face that looked like he'd been in a fire. The man looked around, craning his neck to listen better, his white, stringy hair waving around as he did. He appeared to be in his late sixties.
"Hello?" The man called again. He was blind. "Hello." Job responded. "Who is that? Who are you? I've not heard your voice before." The old man looked nervous and clutched his cane, ready to defend himself. "I'm not from here. My name is Job. I...I don't know where I am." Though the man approached, Job stayed very still. "Job? Like the Book of Job in the bible? Oh, good fortune. Oh, good fortune, indeed. What are you doing back here?" he asked as he hobbled forwards. "I've been travelling for a few days from back that way. I was following your smoke from your chimney."
The man looked very confused, "Back that way? That's the nethers, my good boy. There's nothing out there but death and fall out." Job looked over his shoulder and nodded, "Yeah. Tell me about it. Look. I woke up a few days ago in a facility a while back that way. I don't understand what's happened. Can you help me?" Suspicion creased the brow of the blind man and after a moment he spoke, "My name is Jebidiah. You'd best come inside if you're to learn, my son." Job thanked him and ducked through the fence, managing to dodge all the sharp metal.
The church was empty, save for a few pews made of rotted and rotting wood, a giant cross, and a few shelves with candles burning on them. Job sheathed the knife he had in his hand and followed Jebidiah to a pew at the front of the church. "Sit, my boy, sit. Tell me your tale." Job complied and did just that, explaining his military career, his imprisonment, and the things he'd seen. Jebidiah sat still, listening intently and carefully, only asking a question when he didn't understand something. After Job was done there was a long silence, which he broke, "What happened, Jebidiah?"
The priest nodded and sighed before he began, "Two hundred and thirty years ago there was a great war. The last great war. Not for politics, or land, or oil, or any other reason that had plagued mankind back then, but for religion. The economy had fallen to shambles and people sought answers, so they turned naturally to their churches. Each one claimed to know, claimed that they would fix all, claimed all would be well. Soon so many factions turned into just three. Christianity, Catholicism, and Trinidites. The Trinidites were a new church, founded by those with money and power, seeking to reclaim their throne atop the world. It didn't work. They all went to war."
"Holy money funded new weapons, new forms of killing, and in the end, the final weapon. The Christians wielded it, claiming to save mankind from itself. The thing was a double edged sword in the guise of a series of bombs dropped from orbit. 'Michael's Wrath', they called it. The first series of bombs were high impact EMP's, destroying all electronics. The second series....well." He sighed deeply before going on. "They were the real wrath. Hydrogen by design, but in the end nothing more than napalm fueled by nuclear power. They scorched the earth. Burnt it." Job sat back in a cold sweat, taking in the brief history of life after he'd been frozen. He felt sick and dizzy, lost and abandoned, speechless.
"I need to lie down. Is that okay?" was all Job could manage. "Lie down, son, lie down. You're safe here." Job stretched out on the pew as Jebidiah got up, but had to ask one last question, "Jebidiah, if the church did that why would you build one?" The old priest stopped and turned around with a gentle smile, "This isn't a church of God, son, it's a church of mankind. God and his followers promised us all would be well, all those years ago. It ruined us. Mankind had to build itself back up, find faith in something else. And because of them...all did not end well. Despite their attempts. All did not end well." Job was almost asleep as the priest left the room, but he had to repeat those words once more, they felt like the truth of his entire situation was distilled down to them, "All did not end well..."
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Not Tonight (Original Short)
Adrian ran with all his might, towards the path that the SUV that nearly ran him over had cut through the corn stalks, to what might be his salvation. 'I'm not gonna die tonight.' he repeated to himself in his head, over and over, forcing him to keep running. He felt weak from loss of blood and hunger, limping towards the potential for being saved. He hadn't been bitten, but two of those ghouls had torn up his leg pretty bad, their broken and jagged fingernails had made a mess of his calf. He returned the gesture with a hammer to their skulls.
Because of Adrian's height he thought they could see him as they drove by, but they didn't, they drove like they were in a hurry. Now after two gunshots that got the attention of the ghouls it seemed the world had a common goal: get to that shed. He'd spent weeks in that shed, biding his time, keeping warm with leaves from the corn around him. He came back to it after trying to hunt to find it surrounded by the dead searching for their next meal. He tried to walk away and that car howled right past him.
'I'm not gonna die tonight!' he repeated as he pushed on, the red lights on the back of the vehicle marking his destination. Several of the dead noticed him at the same time and turned their out stretched arms towards him, moaning that moan that they all seem to emit. The four of them went down quickly, Adrian's improvised hammer splattered their skulls with ease. He had to keep going. Not much farther now, not much farther at all. The pain that was shooting through his leg, begging for his attention, was trying it's best to hobble him. He didn't know what was torn or if he could even keep his leg if he lived through this, but he had to try.
Being over six and a half feet tall and just over two hundred pounds allowed him to shoulder his way through the gathering horde with a lot of ease, but the difficulty wasn't throwing bodies around, it was throwing so many around that made the task slow going. The brake lights were still bright, they were still stopped, he had to hurry. Adrian wanted to yell, try to get their attention, but he knew the second he did they might not notice him, but the ghouls he was contesting for walking space would. He wrestled with the thought. He calculated his risks.
His backpack would provide minimal protection, his pant leg was shredded, his boot soaked with blood, his shirt still in tact, he had his two hammers and a pistol with a couple of shots left. 'Screw it. I am not gonna die tonight.' A couple of more skulls exploded under his hammer and he shoved himself forward, waving his arm that didn't have a weapon in it. "HEY! HEY! BACK HERE!" The lights were still lit, the car didn't move. In the eerie drone of the moans it felt like the world had gone silent. More than two dozen heads, mouths agape, dry, cracked lips peeled back over broken and rotted teeth, dried eyes that were bleached from the sun, all turned towards him. The moans went from a low drone to a chorus of bloodthirst.
He thought for a split-second that this might not have worked out the way he planned. They almost all turned in unison towards him, arms ascending towards their meal. Adrian raised his impromptu hammer and began to strike them down one by one, his other hand held jaws closed until he could bring down the couple of pounds of steel upon their crown. He inched forward, but continued to yell, "HEY! BACK HERE! DON'T LEAVE ME!" The lights were a mere ten feet away. He'd almost made it. Then they dimmed, the vehicle began to move forward.
It felt like ice water had been dumped over his entire body as the lights began to move away. 'I will not die tonight!' the thought popped up again. He threw his weight around just enough to allow him to get his second hammer out and with all his remaining might threw the thing at the back window of the SUV currently trying to pull away. It shattered with a glorious sound and he screamed again, "DON'T LEAVE ME!" The brake lights came on again and three men piled out of the vehicle, assault rifles at the ready. Like strobe lights the muzzles lit the night in bursts, nearly blinding, but all making Adrian hope he could live.
He continued to use his hammer to fight off the still advancing horde as they closed the distance to him, shot after shot they cut a way to Adrian. At long last the final ghoul for a dozen feet fell. "I ain't bit! I ain't bit! Please help me!" The three men from the car looked at him then at each other. The thin one to Adrian's right spoke, "What happened to your leg?" The man with the bloody hammer had all but forgotten his injuries, but answered between gulps of air, "Two of them got me with their hands. They tore me up. But they never bit me." Again the men exchanged glances and the small one spoke again. "I'm sorry, friend. You're infected."
Adrian's body went numb. "What? What you mean I'm infected? They never bit me. It was their hands that got me." A flashlight clicked on at the end of one of the rifles and shined upon the spot that was supposed to be throbbing with pain, but was surprisingly numb. Adrian followed the beam, to the circle of light on his injury. It felt as if his soul had died, like everything good in the world suddenly perished, as he stared at three nearly perfect white teeth, all spaced out, but all lodged in the flesh of his own leg.
The makeshift hammer hit the floor moments before Adrian's knees did. "I'm not gonna die tonight..." was all he could whisper. One of the larger men leveled his rifle, "Do you want us to take care of you?" Adrian looked up with hollow eyes, thinking as the moans of the dead began to close in again. "No. No. I'll take care of it. I'm sorry about your window." The men all nodded their agreement and ran back to their vehicle. The doors slammed shut and the engine roared and kicked up dirt as the tires spun in place before propelling them away. "I'm not gonna die tonight." Adrian whispered again.
He found his feet once more and began to limp away from this whole scene. It was dawn before he reached the hill where he'd buried his wife and daughters, not four days ago. There was a line of ghouls that had followed him, but he didn't mind. It'd be done by the time they stumbled up the hill. He ran his hand over the smooth dirt that covered his family and hummed the song he used to when he would put them to bed at night, before all this started. The small pistol sat between his legs, waiting it's turn as he said his final goodbyes, "Well, Barb, girls. Daddy's home. And we're gonna be a family again." The last ray of sunshine that broke over the distant mountains was welcomed with a gunshot.
Because of Adrian's height he thought they could see him as they drove by, but they didn't, they drove like they were in a hurry. Now after two gunshots that got the attention of the ghouls it seemed the world had a common goal: get to that shed. He'd spent weeks in that shed, biding his time, keeping warm with leaves from the corn around him. He came back to it after trying to hunt to find it surrounded by the dead searching for their next meal. He tried to walk away and that car howled right past him.
'I'm not gonna die tonight!' he repeated as he pushed on, the red lights on the back of the vehicle marking his destination. Several of the dead noticed him at the same time and turned their out stretched arms towards him, moaning that moan that they all seem to emit. The four of them went down quickly, Adrian's improvised hammer splattered their skulls with ease. He had to keep going. Not much farther now, not much farther at all. The pain that was shooting through his leg, begging for his attention, was trying it's best to hobble him. He didn't know what was torn or if he could even keep his leg if he lived through this, but he had to try.
Being over six and a half feet tall and just over two hundred pounds allowed him to shoulder his way through the gathering horde with a lot of ease, but the difficulty wasn't throwing bodies around, it was throwing so many around that made the task slow going. The brake lights were still bright, they were still stopped, he had to hurry. Adrian wanted to yell, try to get their attention, but he knew the second he did they might not notice him, but the ghouls he was contesting for walking space would. He wrestled with the thought. He calculated his risks.
His backpack would provide minimal protection, his pant leg was shredded, his boot soaked with blood, his shirt still in tact, he had his two hammers and a pistol with a couple of shots left. 'Screw it. I am not gonna die tonight.' A couple of more skulls exploded under his hammer and he shoved himself forward, waving his arm that didn't have a weapon in it. "HEY! HEY! BACK HERE!" The lights were still lit, the car didn't move. In the eerie drone of the moans it felt like the world had gone silent. More than two dozen heads, mouths agape, dry, cracked lips peeled back over broken and rotted teeth, dried eyes that were bleached from the sun, all turned towards him. The moans went from a low drone to a chorus of bloodthirst.
He thought for a split-second that this might not have worked out the way he planned. They almost all turned in unison towards him, arms ascending towards their meal. Adrian raised his impromptu hammer and began to strike them down one by one, his other hand held jaws closed until he could bring down the couple of pounds of steel upon their crown. He inched forward, but continued to yell, "HEY! BACK HERE! DON'T LEAVE ME!" The lights were a mere ten feet away. He'd almost made it. Then they dimmed, the vehicle began to move forward.
It felt like ice water had been dumped over his entire body as the lights began to move away. 'I will not die tonight!' the thought popped up again. He threw his weight around just enough to allow him to get his second hammer out and with all his remaining might threw the thing at the back window of the SUV currently trying to pull away. It shattered with a glorious sound and he screamed again, "DON'T LEAVE ME!" The brake lights came on again and three men piled out of the vehicle, assault rifles at the ready. Like strobe lights the muzzles lit the night in bursts, nearly blinding, but all making Adrian hope he could live.
He continued to use his hammer to fight off the still advancing horde as they closed the distance to him, shot after shot they cut a way to Adrian. At long last the final ghoul for a dozen feet fell. "I ain't bit! I ain't bit! Please help me!" The three men from the car looked at him then at each other. The thin one to Adrian's right spoke, "What happened to your leg?" The man with the bloody hammer had all but forgotten his injuries, but answered between gulps of air, "Two of them got me with their hands. They tore me up. But they never bit me." Again the men exchanged glances and the small one spoke again. "I'm sorry, friend. You're infected."
Adrian's body went numb. "What? What you mean I'm infected? They never bit me. It was their hands that got me." A flashlight clicked on at the end of one of the rifles and shined upon the spot that was supposed to be throbbing with pain, but was surprisingly numb. Adrian followed the beam, to the circle of light on his injury. It felt as if his soul had died, like everything good in the world suddenly perished, as he stared at three nearly perfect white teeth, all spaced out, but all lodged in the flesh of his own leg.
The makeshift hammer hit the floor moments before Adrian's knees did. "I'm not gonna die tonight..." was all he could whisper. One of the larger men leveled his rifle, "Do you want us to take care of you?" Adrian looked up with hollow eyes, thinking as the moans of the dead began to close in again. "No. No. I'll take care of it. I'm sorry about your window." The men all nodded their agreement and ran back to their vehicle. The doors slammed shut and the engine roared and kicked up dirt as the tires spun in place before propelling them away. "I'm not gonna die tonight." Adrian whispered again.
He found his feet once more and began to limp away from this whole scene. It was dawn before he reached the hill where he'd buried his wife and daughters, not four days ago. There was a line of ghouls that had followed him, but he didn't mind. It'd be done by the time they stumbled up the hill. He ran his hand over the smooth dirt that covered his family and hummed the song he used to when he would put them to bed at night, before all this started. The small pistol sat between his legs, waiting it's turn as he said his final goodbyes, "Well, Barb, girls. Daddy's home. And we're gonna be a family again." The last ray of sunshine that broke over the distant mountains was welcomed with a gunshot.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
I'm No Monster (Original Short)
Lola fussed with her purse and her keys silently, trying to get into the car. Her day had been hectic. With everything going on between the humans and the vampires and now new politics were being thrown around. She shook her head at all the paperwork she knew she'd have to deal with come Monday. THAT was horrifying. She shut the door of her Mercedes SUV and pushed the button to fire up the engine and take her home. She hoped traffic would be light today. She could use something easy today.
As she drove she put the whole day on cruise control, letting her subconscious deal with sorting out the rest of her issues. A poppy little ballad with some woman played on in the background as Lola eased through the minimal traffic. The thoughts of a rogue vampire doing all this to disrupt the truce was almost absurd! Why would anyone want that? To go back to the dark ages, again? She shook her head as she began to quietly sing along, the train of thought still continuing. Her last thought on the highway was about Balthezar and what The Community planned to do with him.
Now the stop and go of neighborhoods replaced the long and placid freeway, her vehicle handling it all with ease. Lola considered leaving The Community, stop being a peacekeeper for two factions that had nothing but hate for one another, but they paid her well. Her law degree wouldn't have afforded her her car or her four bedroom house, which she pulled into as she finished her thoughts. As she sighed out the last of her work day she got her purse and her cell phone, which chimed about an email received. The keys with the big gold "L" attached to them jingled for a second before she pushed her door open. There was beeping and digital voices asking for a password and she complied with a sigh, pushing 'enter' to silence it all.
The voice that came from behind her was smooth and gentle with a hint of surprise, "I would have guessed your mother's birthday." Lola tried to whirl around to meet the owner of the voice, but her world became a violent blur. She barely recognized her glasstop table as she went through it, shattering it to a billion pieces. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her throat as she tried to find her hands and knees, shards and edges cutting up her palms and knees. Again the voice spoke from behind her, "I'm very sorry you're involved in this, truly I am. But things are what they are. I know you're sick and you've been waiting to be turned. That's why you accepted the job of Mediator or Peacekeeper or whatever the title is now a days." Lola crawled forward, looking for her phone or where it may have landed.
Her dizzy eyes found it a few feet away, she pushed herself towards her goal. Her world became a hurried rush of images as she flew the air once again, this time her china cabinet caught her with rigid and painful arms. She knew things had broken that time and panic took over, "Who...who are you? What do you...want?" She choked out between blood filled coughs. Her body was numb with terror, she found her feet fast and saw her attacker. He was tall, thin, hair a bit longer than the norm with a clean shaven face, handsome, his eyes shone with The Fire of the Night. Vampire. His hand shot out at barely conceivable speed and wrapped long fingers around her throat as he answered, "I want an end." She tried to fight him off, but she was far too weak, as he dragged her over to the next room with her two favorite chairs. Lola's bruised and broken body was shoved into one and he sat in the other.
She struggled to breath with the broken ribs in her chest, but she had to try to talk sense into the vampire. "An end...to what?" He studied her with violet eyes for a moment before waving his hand in a dismissing manner, "Don't worry about that, Lola. Just know that you are an innocent in all this." Her whole body pulsated with pain as she tried again, "My husband...." The vampire cut her off, "Hasn't been home for years. I hear divorce does that to some couples. What a man to leave just when you find out you have cancer, huh?" She ignored the jibe, "How do you know that?" He sat back, relaxing a bit, "It's what I have to do, Lola. Again. I am very, very sorry for all this. I promise I'll try to make the end quick. You'll have to forgive everything else up until then. It can't look like a vampire or a human killed you." She watched and began to cry softly as he raised his hand, the fingernails lengthening to claws. He stood before her, his other hand doing the same.
She still had an ounce of fight left, and she knew what they hated more than anything. She looked up at his beautiful pale face, "At least tell me your name!" She protested. "I am Michael." He bowed just a bit. She spit blood on him, "You're nothing but a monster." Michael, the vampire, didn't wipe away the spray of blood. "I'm not a monster. But I believe I can fulfill those fears rather nicely." Lola's scream was cut short.
Michael stood up and let out a sigh, looking down at the shredded remains of Lola's blue business suit and body. Now that the violence was finished business had to be conducted. After further trashing the house and leaving big, obvious clues, he went back to her body. The brand new cell phone unlocked with the birthdate of Lola's mother. He scrolled through the contacts with his still red digits and dialed the emergency line for the bureaucrats that ran The Community. He put the phone in her hand that still had fingers, and dropped a note atop the carnage. The hard part was about to begin.
As she drove she put the whole day on cruise control, letting her subconscious deal with sorting out the rest of her issues. A poppy little ballad with some woman played on in the background as Lola eased through the minimal traffic. The thoughts of a rogue vampire doing all this to disrupt the truce was almost absurd! Why would anyone want that? To go back to the dark ages, again? She shook her head as she began to quietly sing along, the train of thought still continuing. Her last thought on the highway was about Balthezar and what The Community planned to do with him.
Now the stop and go of neighborhoods replaced the long and placid freeway, her vehicle handling it all with ease. Lola considered leaving The Community, stop being a peacekeeper for two factions that had nothing but hate for one another, but they paid her well. Her law degree wouldn't have afforded her her car or her four bedroom house, which she pulled into as she finished her thoughts. As she sighed out the last of her work day she got her purse and her cell phone, which chimed about an email received. The keys with the big gold "L" attached to them jingled for a second before she pushed her door open. There was beeping and digital voices asking for a password and she complied with a sigh, pushing 'enter' to silence it all.
The voice that came from behind her was smooth and gentle with a hint of surprise, "I would have guessed your mother's birthday." Lola tried to whirl around to meet the owner of the voice, but her world became a violent blur. She barely recognized her glasstop table as she went through it, shattering it to a billion pieces. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her throat as she tried to find her hands and knees, shards and edges cutting up her palms and knees. Again the voice spoke from behind her, "I'm very sorry you're involved in this, truly I am. But things are what they are. I know you're sick and you've been waiting to be turned. That's why you accepted the job of Mediator or Peacekeeper or whatever the title is now a days." Lola crawled forward, looking for her phone or where it may have landed.
Her dizzy eyes found it a few feet away, she pushed herself towards her goal. Her world became a hurried rush of images as she flew the air once again, this time her china cabinet caught her with rigid and painful arms. She knew things had broken that time and panic took over, "Who...who are you? What do you...want?" She choked out between blood filled coughs. Her body was numb with terror, she found her feet fast and saw her attacker. He was tall, thin, hair a bit longer than the norm with a clean shaven face, handsome, his eyes shone with The Fire of the Night. Vampire. His hand shot out at barely conceivable speed and wrapped long fingers around her throat as he answered, "I want an end." She tried to fight him off, but she was far too weak, as he dragged her over to the next room with her two favorite chairs. Lola's bruised and broken body was shoved into one and he sat in the other.
She struggled to breath with the broken ribs in her chest, but she had to try to talk sense into the vampire. "An end...to what?" He studied her with violet eyes for a moment before waving his hand in a dismissing manner, "Don't worry about that, Lola. Just know that you are an innocent in all this." Her whole body pulsated with pain as she tried again, "My husband...." The vampire cut her off, "Hasn't been home for years. I hear divorce does that to some couples. What a man to leave just when you find out you have cancer, huh?" She ignored the jibe, "How do you know that?" He sat back, relaxing a bit, "It's what I have to do, Lola. Again. I am very, very sorry for all this. I promise I'll try to make the end quick. You'll have to forgive everything else up until then. It can't look like a vampire or a human killed you." She watched and began to cry softly as he raised his hand, the fingernails lengthening to claws. He stood before her, his other hand doing the same.
She still had an ounce of fight left, and she knew what they hated more than anything. She looked up at his beautiful pale face, "At least tell me your name!" She protested. "I am Michael." He bowed just a bit. She spit blood on him, "You're nothing but a monster." Michael, the vampire, didn't wipe away the spray of blood. "I'm not a monster. But I believe I can fulfill those fears rather nicely." Lola's scream was cut short.
Michael stood up and let out a sigh, looking down at the shredded remains of Lola's blue business suit and body. Now that the violence was finished business had to be conducted. After further trashing the house and leaving big, obvious clues, he went back to her body. The brand new cell phone unlocked with the birthdate of Lola's mother. He scrolled through the contacts with his still red digits and dialed the emergency line for the bureaucrats that ran The Community. He put the phone in her hand that still had fingers, and dropped a note atop the carnage. The hard part was about to begin.
Monday, July 21, 2014
Have To Know (Original Short)
Mark sat in the backseat, to his left Manuel, a medic, the man in the passenger seat was a mechanic, the driver another shooter, like himself. The blue SUV they all sat in screamed down the road, attracting more of the dead to them, but he didn’t care. Mark’s sister was the pilot of that helo. And he had made a promise to protect her. The ones he had promised were now long gone, but the promise still stands.
The snow was heavy on the ground, the last two weeks it’d been relentless. This only made Mark worry more, clutching the rails of his rifle and letting the metal bite into his flesh made sensitive from the cold. It eased the rising panic of thinking of his youngest sister, and only surviving family member, alone and running through hordes of the dead. The silence inside the vehicle was near deafening, all four of the men inside deep in concentration with the task at hand.
The drive would be easy. The roads had long since been cleared and the abandoned vehicles looted and moved aside. It made runs into towns for supplies and transport of approved survivors easier. Mark’s mind, however, was on what could have went wrong with the chopper. As far as he’d known the thing was in pristine condition, maintained and kept with careful scrutiny. He didn’t even want to entertain the idea that she had been shot down. But then that would bring the questions: by who? Why?
The answers he, himself, concocted made him uneasy so he checked his gear as the vehicle took a hard right. His pistol and rifle were silenced, the tac vest he had on was filled to the brim with ammo, and two knives completed the ensemble. Mark didn’t mind being a shooter, hell, he was built for it. Around six feet tall and near two hundred pounds of solid muscle, short cropped brown hair, with a square jaw. The other three in the car were varying builds, but it was more than obvious that Manuel was the shortest and scrawniest of the four. For some odd reason that comforted Mark.
The car took a sharp right turn. And what was the gentle hum of the street beneath the wheels was now the cacophony of dirt and sticks and the like being kicked into the wells and under chassis of the vehicle. Their journey was near an end. The four men looked to the field where the pillar of smoke climbed high into the sky, visible flames licking at the base of it. Jake, the driver began to assess the distance and started barking their orders, “Okay. Ten seconds, no more, no less. If the chopper don’t fly anymore let it burn. Find the pilots. If they’ve turned do what has to be done. If they’re alive we’ll find them.” He shot a look back at Mark, letting him know that one way or another his sister would be accounted for.
The flaming wreckage went from a small picture to just as large as life and the numbers were there, too. The dead were thick and gathered around the downed aircraft, hoping to find a meal made of living human. With some quick maneuvering the driver swung around and cleared a side of the helo for them to inspect, the bodies thunking loudly against the side of their car. Ten seconds to establish what happened. Mark let that thought take over as he let the floodgates of adrenaline fly open.
All four doors were kicked open, four sets of boots hit the ground, four minds started a grim task. The first shout was the mechanic, declaring the chopper useless, the second was announcing there was nothing but a bloody skeleton left of the other pilot, the third said that it was not June, his sister. Mark listened very carefully as he picked off ghouls that got too close to the car and the team. Their ten seconds was up. As they all made for the car Mark noticed a trail of shot zombies leading away from the crash. “She went that way!” The driver acknowledged it as they all climbed back in.
Hope blossomed like a fire with fuel thrown on it as Mark put one leg into the backseat, shifting his weight inside. Then it hit him. A set of rotted teeth came from beneath the car and sunk deep into his leg, right above his ankle. He screamed and tore free his limb, leaving behind some flesh. His door slammed closed and he looked up to find three faces staring at him. Before one of them could reach for their pistol he pleaded with them, “Let me find my sister, first! You can deal with me then. The bite is on my leg. I have at least two hours.” The other shooter began to slowly draw his pistol and Mark tried again. “Please. I have to know.”
Hands began to bang and claw at the windows and doors and the driver finally said, “Fine.” The vehicle was shifted into gear and they began to plow through the gathering horde, following the prominent trail of the dead. Mark watched intently, looking for signs, trying to think how his sister would think. Even as he did, though, he could feel his hope die more and more with every painful pulse of the fresh bite. The SUV danced over holes and small hills, making it more and more excruciating for Mark. In his head he pleaded, ‘Please be alive, sis. Please.’
Almost two miles from the site of the downed copter they found a single room shed in the middle of a corn field, the vegetables around trampled flat by the dead. More than twenty of the ghouls lay on the floor around the shack, showcasing his sister’s ability to shoot. Quietly he removed all his ammunition, his weapons, his tac vest, and had only his pistol in hand. Mark cleared his mind, felt the gun in his palm, felt the last glimmer of hope shining bright that his sister was alive. He placed his hand on the handle, “One shot means she’s alive. Two means go home.” The three nodded in silence, ignoring the dead that were currently stalking towards them as Mark left the car.
Three men watched the dark shack, eyes wide and waiting. Even the constant moans of the dead seemed quieter than a whisper. The first shot rang out, lighting the entire shack, beaming through the spaces between the boards that comprised it. It felt like an hour for the three men, watching, waiting, hoping. Another shot rang out and the shed lit again for a brilliant instant before darkness reclaimed it.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Old friends, new blood (Original Short)
Michael had come to hate heights lately. First jumping from them, then throwing others from them. Now he found himself in a very precarious situation, similar to the ones he’d put others in recently: hanging over the edge of a very tall building at the end of an arm that was attached to a very angry vampire. Though he didn’t need to breath it was still very uncomfortable to have a hand gripped tightly around his throat. In all the things he’d done to get this war under way he’d never been worried. Until now.
“You would have the houses war again?!” Balthezar was furious, the fire of the night in his eyes shone to near neon proportions, his voice had deepened and was not much more than a gutteral growl. Michael began to answer when he was shaken violently, interrupted by the vampire still holding him over the edge, “Do you forget I sit in court of the House of Lee?” Michael waited a moment before tried to answer.
“Not just the houses. The humans, too.” Michael hadn’t forgotten where his sire sat, nor had he forgotten the temper and fury that his sire possessed. With a roar Michael’s thin body was thrown against the brick wall that housed the door to the roof. Mortar, dust, and pieces of the wall joined the thrown vampire on the floor. Through the physical pain that was near overwhelming Michael fought back the mental anguish of hurting someone he was once so close to. Even as he was picked back up by his hair and slammed against the already cracked wall again he wanted to apologize to his friend, but couldn’t. The plan wouldn’t work otherwise.
“Have you lost your mind?!?” Belthazar, much taller than Michael, and much more muscular, with black, curly hair down to the small of his back, finally stood back to hear an explanation. The thin vampire struggled to straighten himself, sliding up against broken bricks, “No, Belthazar, I have not lost my mind. I was setup. As were others. Many others. Our brothers and sisters were played and fed to the hunters. It is time for the houses to fall.” The ancient vampire was not moved by the words. It showed. Michael fought back tears, knowing what would have to happen next.
His plan had been moving at the proper pace, but now with his sire interfering, things would have to be accelerated. “You could’ve requested a trial, Michael. You could have plead your-” “MY CASE? TO THE SAME ONES THAT HAD PUT ME IN THAT TRAP?” It was Michael’s turn to roar with that voice most vampires hated to use, “The hunters were waiting for me! How bloody convenient they would show up the second after a human gets fed upon! How droll that they had silver bullets with UV accents in their weapons, ready to go! How funny that they opened fire as I tried to tell them what happened!”
This time the weight of what had been said made the ancient one take a step back and look away, trying to hide his emotion. The time was drawing near for this part of the plan to be executed. Michael wanted to apologize, wanted to say he was sorry, wanted to plead for forgiveness, but couldn’t. Silver killed vampires. Iron slows them down. Both hurt very much, no matter the quantity. The younger of the two could feel his body hot, his breath racing, the blood of that human advocate still pumping through his veins, fueling him like high octane fuel thrown on a fire.
Belthazar still looked away as he spoke, “I can help you, Michael. It’s not how it used to be. I can still help you get out of all of this. Just come with-” The impact of the knife in his side silenced him. The iron blade was buried hilt deep, rendering the ancient one all but paralyzed with pain, as Michael cradled him while he fell to the ground, grunting and groaning. The fire had gone out of both their eyes as they looked at each other, one with pleading, one with determination. “You’ll know what our brothers and sisters went through. What I went through. You’ll know, Master.”
Michael hiked up his sleeve and forced Balthezar’s mouth open, the ancient’s fangs at the ready. With little effort the pointed teeth of the elder sank into flesh, bringing blood forth. Michael wiped the sorrow from his face, replacing it with concentration as he forced his sire to drink. Eyes wide with pain were suddenly wide with alarm and understanding at what was being done. Belthazar was being force fed blood tainted with human blood. The tests would confirm it. He’d become an outcast.
Michael drew the knife out of his sire. With a gentle hand he moved the curly black locks away from his friend’s face, speaking softly, “When they come for you, and they will, come find me. Just know that I do this for the better of our kind. The houses must fall and a new regime must be made. Goodbye for now, Master.” The thin vampire stood, sheathed the iron blade and walked to the fire escape.
The broken door to the rooftop was kicked open by hunters just as Michael disappeared below the line of bricks. They asked the vampire on the floor the standard questions. Then one motioned to the other the blood that was still wet. With an apology one of the hunters produced a blood scanner, designed to detect human blood in a vampire, and asked for Belthazar’s hand.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Writing Competition (Bettie Entry)
Apple Pie A la Mode
By Bettie
Are you sure?
Yeah. I got straight from the big man himself.
Shit.
Yeah.
How soon?
Tomorrow.
Shit
Yeah.
Can I get you folks some more coffee?
Sure.
Sir?
Yeah, Okay.
Aw, y’all look so sad, would you like some pie?
Yeah, okay.
Great! We have apple, pea-
Apple’s fine.
I’ll put a great big heap of ice cream on top for you, okay?
Thanks.
I’d fuck her.
You’d fuck anything that moved.
Not everything. I don’t want to fuck a dog.
That implies that you’d fuck some sort of animal.
Well, today I might, fuck it, why not?
You’re gross.
Says the woman who fucked a cucumber.
Many people have fucked cucumbers. It’s a thing.
Here’s your pie!
Shirley, you’ve fucked a cucumber, haven’t you?
I-what?
You know, gotten so horny you go and get a cuke out the fridge and fuck yourself with it
I don’t think I should-
Oh come on. You don’t know us, we don’t know you. Who we gonna tell?
I-um- uhhh
Don’t worry about it, Shirl. Thanks for the pie.
Um, okay.
Why you gotta be such an asshole?
What? I wanted to prove to you that it’s a thing.
But cmon, shes a nice girl.
Nice ass too.
You’re fucking gross.
So tomorrow?
Yeah.
What’s gonna happen?
Boss says it’s gonna be amazing.
Hail and brimstone?
I don’t know.
Just “Spectacular” he said.
Wow.
Yeah.
So what now?
What about us you mean?
Yeah.
It’s over tomorrow.
I know. Everything’s over tomorrow
We had plans.
I know.
Maybe we can speed it up?
Maybe. I don’t want to be there for it.
I don’t either.
What do you suggest?
We can get some pills, or a gun.
Guns are messy. Let’s do the pills.
Okay.
You’re oddly calm about it.
I’m with you. Nothing can faze me.
Damn.
Any regrets?
I guess I wish I had told you earlier I loved you.
Tell me now.
I love you, Maggie.
I love you, Sam.
I’ll miss you.
We’ll be together, there.
Yeah, but I’ll miss you here.
Okay, once.
What?
With a carrot
A carrot?
It was huge
Didn’t think you had it in you, Shirley.
Here’s a twenty.
Oh wow, thanks. But you just had coffee.
And pie
And pie. Are you sure?
Sure, Shirley.
Thanks.
No problem.
Maggie?
Yeah?
Let’s go. We have a few drugstores to hit up.
Have a good day you two!
Thanks Shirley! Stay away from that salad!
Oh Maggie.
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