If he hadn’t been in the grip of a mighty demon lord recently returned from the dead, he would have felt at peace up there, though he wished he were more bundled up. His shirt did little against the numbing cold of the altitude and wind chill, and he sarcastically thought his nipples were sharp enough to slice glass. Just thinking of it made him cringe.
He felt a jerk as he was raised up to Bahtzuul’s face. Bahtzuul studied him, his abyss of a pupil flexing and sharpening.
Rutger stared right back with stubborn stoicism. If Bahtzuul could read his mind, Rutger hoped the demon would hear the part about kissing his white hairy ass.
As Rutger repeated the thought, Bahtzuul opened his jaws wide, and Rutger refused to miss the opportunity to grab the broken sword. Pulling it out caused Bahtzuul to jerk, akin to plucking a nose hair, and when he did, he squeezed Rutger tighter. Rutger groaned as he did his best to tolerate the pain. He wasn’t positive, but he believed his hip may have cracked. He spat blood over the scaly wrist.
Then he decided he’d do something stupid, because doing something stupid usually worked out well for him. With the sword in hand, he jabbed the sharp, broken edge into Bahtzuul’s claw, just into one of the knuckles. He ground it in between the scales, and he penetrated it enough to draw blood.
The demon cried in pain, like a crackling thunderstorm getting into a fight with alley cats in heat. His grip loosened, and Rutger almost slipped from Bahtzuul’s hand. He was glad he didn’t because falling to his death was one of the worst outcomes he could think of, but the grip did loosen, and so Rutger was able to bring his axe back into play.
Leaving the sword between the beast’s knuckles, Rutger reached back with the axe, now firmly gripped in both hands again, ready to make like a grand-slam slugger.
The icy teal glow reappeared from the depths of Bahtzuul’s throat, illuminating his jaws, causing Rutger to momentarily freeze. The swirls were hypnotic and strangely soothing.
He shook himself out of the trance as the demon lord reared its head back. Bahtzuul’s chest swelled.
Knowing Bahtzuul was winding up his pitch, Rutger hovered one hand over his eyes to shield the blinding glow. He could hear Bahtzuul breathing in, collecting the air and energy around. His heartbeat revved up, escalating faster and faster.
In a brief moment, he thought about Fiya, how he raised her into an undead-killing machine, a warrior. When he taught her to drive for the first time out in the high deserts of California. That time he punched a kid for standing her up on prom because asking her in the first place was nothing more than a prank. That awkward first trip to the grocery store and standing in the feminine-hygiene aisle for almost an hour, trying to pick out what she needed. All the hugs he gave her when she couldn’t save someone in time, and all the tears she left on his broad shoulder. He wanted another awkward moment with her, and he had the abhorrent feeling there won’t be.
Rutger refocused himself and turned his attention to Bahtzuul’s heaving chest. He could see scales separating as it puffed out, and he knew this would be his best opportunity.
With a mighty throw: Rutger hurled the axe from his position still tightly in the claw, spinning like a pinwheel, into Bahtzuul’s chest, chucking it deep between the pectoral scales. Not quite the row he intended to hit, but close enough for him to count it as a success.
Bahtzuul jolted from the impact, and Rutger couldn’t remove the smug look that steadily grew on his face. “I bet that tickled, didn’t it, Fucko?”
The light from Bahtzuul’s mouth dimmed and flickered. Rutger felt the grip loosen, and almost fell from his grasp. He grabbed hold of Fiya’s sword, still jammed in between Bahtzuul’s knuckles.
As he secured himself in Bahtzuul’s claws, he felt the heat of the teal light burning again. The cool air around him sucked into the demon’s mouth as the bright teal glow grew hotter. Bahtzuul’s mouth opened wide.
Then Rutger bellowed, “Make this count, Fucko, cause at this altitude, my nipples are gonna start cutting you too.”
Scalding heat blasted against Rutger’s face, like opening the door to an oven set to broil, and it was quickly followed by a bright icy-teal fiery blast. His beard coiled, smoked, and singed into little black charred dust so fast he couldn’t even smell the burnt hair. Then the rest of his unkempt locks followed suit. The blast fused his clothes to his skin before shattering away into ashes. His muscles exploded into dust, and he had kept his arm outstretched to block the brightness until the demon’s fiery blast ground it down into blackened bone.
Bahtzuul’s hand was left unscathed as the blast of electric-teal fire finished jetting from his mouth. Still within his grip was Rutger’s lower half, his two legs now looking like a wishbone for hips.
He observed the remains for a moment, as if he were checking if there was anything useful. Then he turned his hand over to drop the remaining ash and legs to free-fall to the ground.
With watering eyes, Fiya watched Bahtzuul toss aside Rutger’s remains. His ashes fell like dry leaves, while his lifeless legs fluttered into the trees. She couldn’t tell where they landed as the train moved too fast, somewhere out of view behind a hill, probably leaving one hell of a surprise to be discovered at one of the local campgrounds.
“It’s all my fault,” she said to herself, unaware that Liama listened nearby. “I dragged him into this … I brought them to his home, they burned it down, and now this …” She paused as she noticed Liama standing near and shut her thoughts off.
Fiya’s legs felt numb, and she leaned back against the railing, using it to steady herself.
She had not seen Thomas standing near her, either. He had not seen Rutger’s falling remains, and she wasn’t sure if Liama did or not, but with the tears in her eyes, she guessed the answer could be yes. In her limited peripheral vision, Fiya could see them talking to her, yet she couldn’t hear them. Liama’s lips moved, but Fiya felt like she was underwater, and someone was trying to tell her something from above its surface.
She put her hand on the top of her hooded head and rubbed her scalp. You were so stupid! Why didn’t you just mind your own business? Then both you, Rutger and God knows who else with an actual plan could be alive to deal with this thing! Sure, thousands could have died in that scenario while you cooked up something solid, but you wouldn’t be right here right now, and Rutger would still be here. You’re not a warrior or a hero! You’re a fucking useless idiot! This is all your fault. It was your sacrifice that brought that thing back. You might as well put that barrel to your head!
She gritted her teeth and whispered, “Shut up …”
Shaking, Fiya stood up as Liama told her father, “Mr. Bronson’s gone.”
Placing his hand solemnly on her shoulder with the slightest touch, Thomas said, “Fiya, I’m so sorry.”
Fiya stepped away from him, letting his empty hand dangle, and got down from the diamond-plate metal flooring. She reached for the lever and pulled. The pin lifted, and the couplings rattled.
Thomas looked over the railing, under the step bridge to walk to the next car, and saw the rusty mechanical couplings slip their grip and drift away from each other.
Then she hopped over to the next car’s railing, held on, and stretched her good leg out to the passenger car, where Thomas and Liama stood watching.
“Wait! Fiya! What are you doing?” he asked.
“What’s going on?” Liama asked, grabbing her father’s hand.
Fiya gave the passenger car a strong kick with her good leg, and the couplings lost touch completely.
Thomas was about to walk over to the car with her, but the diamond-plate walkway bridge pulled off and fell under the train. It crumbled like tin foil.
He looked up and saw a mountain ridge coming up. He also saw the demon flying in the sky, rising higher to clear the mountain. He was reminded of a massive, man-eating shark swimming in an aquarium at Sea World, only this killer swam through the air above him, without a protective glass barrier between them.
> Before going outside to consult with Fiya and getting distracted by Rutger’s death, he had looked at the map by using Glacier Peak for reference and decided the track they were on. There were a few more tunnels ahead. He figured Bear Mountain was the first tunnel, south of Blanca Lake, and the next was Spire Mountain, which would be a little longer than the other.
He didn’t get to relay this information to Fiya yet. In fact, it completely slipped his mind as he hollered out to her, “This is nuts! You can’t do this alone!”
“Watch me,” she said in such a low volume that Thomas and Liama couldn’t hear above the steel wheels on the ancient tracks.
Thomas could already feel the passenger car slowing down, gradually, and smooth. The section with the engine still attached zoomed ahead with Fiya in tow, disappearing into the Spire Mountain tunnel.
Fiya watched both Thomas and Liama before the darkness of the tunnel eventually enveloped them, too.
Bahtzuul hovered over one of Spire Mountain’s ridges, a section that still had patches of snow leftover from winter. He grinned, basking in the cool air on his gums. He knew from previously watching the train that it would soon shoot out from the other side. His eyes stayed locked on the path of wood and iron the train seemed to follow, but nothing appeared. He winged back to confirm that the rest of the train had disappeared into the tunnel: It was only a matter of time before the train’s mechanical head with delicious humans inside would pop out on the other side.
Something in the air with him stole his focus, something trying to get away. He tucked his wings in to gain speed while diving to catch up. A large bird of prey, with dark brown feathers and a white head, raced to the trees of the mountain, hoping to reach its nest before the huge predator caught up to it.
Before the eagle could reach the safety of the dense trees, Bahtzuul cruised in and snatched it with his jaws, swallowing it whole with little more than a breath. He could feel it trying to fight, scratching and pecking but stopped the moment he crushed its body between the roof of his mouth and tongue. He again delighted in the warm juices of a living being. He felt a slight perk, a jolt, and his focus sharpened: He wanted more. He craved it.
Inside the tunnel, Fiya placed her hands on the edges of her mask, pulling it off. She listened to the Velcro hooks strain, refusing to let go. Once her mask was fully removed, she felt around in the dark for the ladder and soon found it. She climbed and before reaching the top, she waited until she saw light approaching. Getting to the top of the car only to have the roof of the tunnel scrape off her head was not ideal.
Moments later, the train’s nose exploded from the tunnel, the engine car pushing faster now that it wasn’t carrying the weight of the extra cars behind it.
Bahtzuul spotted it and swooped in for a closer look. To his delight, there was another meal on top, just like before! The bright pink worn by the meal made it easier for him to target. He remembered bright colors often meant the meat was poisonous to most predators, which to him only meant there would be extra spice. The meal was of the same kind that he snatched earlier and scorched to a crisp, though smaller; he recognized her. From high above, he could smell her fresh blood pumping. Bahtzuul salivated.
Fiya made her way to the engine car and stood. She spotted the winged demon and pulled back her hood: Now, she could see everything at maximum potential. Her chestnut hair flew in the wind, strands whipping across her face.
In her other hand was her mask. She gave it one more glance before tossing it from the train. She didn’t see where it landed and instead aimed her hateful gaze at Bahtzuul: She wanted to make sure he saw her face … the face that would bring him death.
Like a vulture, Bahtzuul circled the train as it curved around one of Spire Mountain’s bends, and Fiya patiently watched, as if daring him to come near.
With a sudden tucking in of his wings, Bahtzuul swooshed at her with lightning speed, and Fiya was quick to drop to her stomach, anticipating the maneuver, causing him to miss her.
He turned sharply and then perched on the single train car still connected to the engine. His massive weight pressed down on the car, sparks shot out from underneath, and the engine slowed again. The glass windows cracked and exploded outward.
Fiya scowled at him as he settled and crouched into a pounce position. Then he spoke. “Art thee the pretendeth’r’s squire?” His voice croaked grotesque thunder.
Rising to her feet, she said, “Nada.” She could see Rutger’s axe buried in his chest, as if Bahtzuul forgot it was even there. She also caught the hilt of her sword in between the scales of his knuckles. Could he be regenerating, and they got stuck rather than getting pushed out? She almost shuddered at the thought. She continued, “I am Immortuos Venandi, slayer of the undead, hunter of demons, and general ass-kicker of the evil supernatural. And you just checked all the boxes for Bad-Guy Bingo.”
Bahtzuul leaned in. “Doth I?” The thunderous voice purred.
Fiya’s left hand caressed the grip of the Blackhawk. “Sí.”
Bahtzuul snickered. He knew of the Order of the Immortuos Venandi, alright. They put him into the great slumber but couldn’t kill him. His followers did well, stashing away his heart, hidden from the ruiners of his appetite. As he stared at her, he only felt hungrier.
He rose from his crouching position and puffed out his chest. He grabbed the axe, wiggling it a bit to break it free, leaving behind a slightly larger opening. Bahtzuul had done more damage to his chest than Rutger did just by removing the weapon, and the only pain he showed for it was a minor wince of one eye. A sliver of bright red flesh, with blood seeping out like hot red tar.
His thundering voice continued, “The pretendeth’r hath left this.” Then he tossed the axe aside like a used tissue and smiled; it was a profane smile. He had been munching on many ghouls, their fleshy chunks still caught between his teeth, and she was sure she even saw a feather in there. “I’m afraid the blade didn’t wend deep enow,” he said as he plucked her broken sword from his knuckle as if it were an annoying splinter and flicked it off the side of the train.
Her eyes narrowed with rage and she growled, “I triple-fucking-dog-dare you to call him a Pretender again, Condenado Consolador.” Her fingertips danced on the grip of the Blackhawk now, itching for some signal to draw and fire.
Back in a crouching pose, Bahtzuul paused, confused. He tilted his head to the side like a dog, and his tail twitched. “I understand not thy phrasing …”
Before he would let her have time to respond, not that he would understand being called a Doomed Dildo even after translating it for him, he twitched his enormous tail again and leaped into the air, moving faster than the train itself. His claws outstretched, just as she witnessed before when he snatched Rutger and took him to the skies.
Fiya didn’t panic. Her eyes stayed locked on the open slit in his chest. Bright beet-red, glistening, pulsing, and welcoming. She drew the Blackhawk and fired.
BANG!
The silver bullet drove home into the slit, and the impact and sudden pain threw off Bahtzuul’s trajectory, clutching his chest.
Fiya ducked.
Hugchluck was the sound that spat from him. He missed her completely and continued forward, tumbling in the air. He bounced off the nose of the train and rolled in front of it.
Just as Fiya turned to see this, her gut told her to move her ass. She ran to the next car, didn’t stop, and leaped off when she got to the end. As she did, the front of the train plowed into Bahtzuul’s chest, with a quake and rumble. The engine car completely crashed into him at full speed, a hurling giant blunt mass of charging metal crushing his rib cage in. The single connecting car flew up and flipped over like a drunken pole vaulter.
Rock and dust were joined by flying metal and shrapnel. Spring coils flew, blots rained, and Bahtzuul’s body continued to brake the mass of steel barreling into him.
Sharp spines that protruded from his back snapped as they dug into the ground.
The propulsion of the t
rain continued as Bahtzuul rolled and let out another yelp. His cries were soon muffled by the clanking metal mass breaking him apart.
Fiya rolled onto her shoulder as she landed and aggravated her wounded leg again. She wanted to see the results, but the cloud of devastation expanded rapidly, and she had to look away, pulling her hood back over her head and closing her eyes.
At the mouth of the Spire Mountain tunnel, the rest of the train had stopped. Most of the train had come out, but the damaged cars were still hidden within the tunnel’s darkness.
Thomas and Liama held each other at the railing where they left Fiya. Believing it was now safe, the other passengers got down from the train. Several hugged each other, crying in each other’s arms. In the distance, beyond the mountainous terrain, they heard a gunshot over the train engine, followed by a roaring crash. They could even feel the earth rumble beneath their feet.
“What was that?” Liama said. She and her daddy came from San Francisco, born and raised, so she knew how an earthquake felt, but this felt different. She couldn’t say why; she just knew it wasn’t an earthquake.
“I … don’t know, baby,” Thomas replied. He strained his eyes as he saw a cloud of dust appear beyond the trees and a ridge beyond a curve.
There might have been smoke, too, but Thomas wasn’t sure. If it were because the train crashed, he just assumed there would be an explosion or fire because that’s how he always saw it in the movies.
Liama tugged at his shirt, getting his attention. Then he said, “We should give it a minute before checking it out.”
“Why?”
He sighed. “Because if that thing is still alive, we’ll know soon. And we can hide in the tunnel. I don’t think he can fit in there.” He seethed at the thought of that thing still hovering around.
On the ground, a sharp rock jabbed into Fiya’s ribs, never piercing the Kevlar, causing nothing more than an annoying discomfort. She mentally added that to the list of bruises she received that day.
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