by J. F. Halpin
He’d seen it when he’d used the fog.
“We need to get out of here first,” Nowak explained. “If we get to the wall, we can at least get some weapons.”
“Or get the fuck out of here,” Cortez added. “Or both.”
Asle had been near panic as she’d explained what she did, convinced that everything the creature killed was blood on her hands.
That was something they were going to have to deal with later, however.
They heard a scream.
Summers flattened himself against a wall as the body of an elf came barreling down the hallway. A faint crunch punctuated the man’s short flight.
“What in the fuck?” Nowak looked back at the smear that used to be an elf, then to the room in front of them.
It was a massacre. Bodies were smeared against the walls, and piled upon the floor.
And then they saw it. The creature was nearly as big as the room itself, with multi-jointed arms as large as Summers was tall. Currently, it was bent over the body of a guard.
It was eating him, a mouth that seemed to continue well into its chest tearing entire limbs free, swallowing in an instant.
A servant taking cover in a nearby room must have thought the creature was distracted. She burst from her hiding place, heading toward Summers’ group.
One of its hands lifted almost lazily, moving to swat the woman.
Summers grabbed the spear of a dead guard at his feet. The creature hadn’t so much as looked in their direction before the projectile slammed through its chest, pinning it to the wall for just an instant.
The thing screeched with a primal ferocity, clawing at the shaft of the spear with six pairs of hands.
“Huh . . .” Summers stared blankly ahead as the woman ran screaming past them.
At some point, Cortez must have found a gun. A grenade impacted with the creature’s chest, blinding Summers for an instant and turning a substantial part of the monster into a smear on the ceiling.
Nowak and Logan soon followed, firing at a second head Summers hadn’t even noticed. A long arm shot out, swatting at the group. Summers moved to catch it, only to be slammed into the opposite wall. He felt his breath pushed out of him as a shelf crashed into his back.
He recovered long enough to feel the arm in his grip snap in two. He tore, and the creature screamed once again.
This time, it didn’t charge them. Limbs—entire sections of the creature—fell with the sound of wet meat hitting stone, squirming through the newly made hole in the wall.
It ran, leaving parts of itself behind.
The group just stared at the chaos left in its wake, the sound of distant crashing becoming faint.
“What in the fuck was that?” Summers looked to the others.
“Hamr,” Asle answered, eyes wide.
Cortez leaned down, unstrapping equipment from a guard dead at her feet.
Summers recognized the man as one who’d been in his squad for the first few days.
He’d never bothered to memorize his name.
“What do we do now?” Cortez looked to Nowak.
“I . . .” Nowak started, then swallowed. “I’ll be honest with you. I have no fucking idea. We can’t make it out of the city like this, guns or not. There’s an army outside, and whatever the hell that thing is inside. So, open for suggestions.”
Before they could answer, Summers heard something coming their way. Footsteps. A lot of them.
“Shit.” He looked to the others. “We got company.”
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Summers watched as Nisha approached, a small contingent of guards in tow. More than a few were injured, and Nisha herself looked to be bleeding from an eye.
She seemed surprised to find four rifles trained on her.
None of them had forgotten whose loyalties she’d chosen, or that she’d held them prisoner, twice. And so, they’d decided they were done taking chances.
“Was this your doing?” Nisha glanced down at their weapons. “Did you release this . . . thing?”
“I’m done playing,” Summers responded. “If you people want to do us harm, then we can end this right here and now.”
Nisha hesitated for only a moment before speaking to the guards at her side. Summers saw their hands twitch for their weapons for just an instant before—
“Wait.” Logan held up a hand. The man hadn’t found a gun. Instead, he walked forward, hands raised. His prosthetic tapped against the ground with every step. “We don’t need to fight, not now.”
Summers’ grip on his gun only tightened.
Logan noticed, looking him in the eye. “Is this really how you want to do things?”
Summers thought about that. There was fear in the guards’ eyes; they watched Summers as someone would watch a predator.
He could smell their blood, could feel the deep, gnawing hunger he’d pushed down.
He wondered how much it affected his thinking.
“Do you know what that thing is?” Summers watched the guards carefully, just in case one of them got any ideas.
“I know it can kill every man, woman, and child in the city. I’ve seen it happen,” Nisha responded. “Just leave . . . please.” She looked at them, her eyes pleading.
Summers considered that for a long moment before lowering his weapon. Truth be told, he was tired, the city had done no favors for him, and he desperately wanted to just sleep this all off like a bad dream.
But there was still an army at the gates, one that Summers had no doubt would take full advantage of the chaos this thing had sowed. They couldn’t run. Not really.
Too many in the city had trusted them. Even if Rhodes had forced them into this, they’d seen how the people looked at them. They really thought they were their saviors. Maybe it was just their own desperation, but he wasn’t enough of an asshole to leave them to their fate.
Summers glanced to his side, receiving a nod from the others.
“Let us help you find it.”
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Summers moved through the streets, trying his best to follow the creature’s scent.
It wasn’t hard. Whatever it was, it had left destruction in its wake. The problem was that it was much, much faster than them. The damn thing could have left the city, for all they knew.
Nisha spoke to a guard at her side, and he split off from the group, heading toward the wall.
“I’m sending for more,” Nisha explained. “But we can’t leave the wall undefended.”
“Where are we?” Logan asked.
“Warehouse district.” Nisha glanced at the towering buildings that lined the street. “Can you sense it?”
Summers slowed for a moment, taking in the air. He could still smell the creature, but it was almost masked now.
Something was rotting. Summers wrinkled his nose at the smell. A lot of somethings. Then it occurred to him.
“Nisha, how do you handle your dead?”
Before the woman could answer, they came upon it: a mass grave, one made for the refugees and soldiers who had died during the attack.
It was black, the entire mound of rotting flesh shifting, squirming as if it were one beating heart.
“Oh, fuck,” Nisha blurted.
A thin, black arm shot out from the pile of corpses, grabbing a guard by the head and sucking him into the mound of flesh.
They ran.
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Commander Haldor was a decorated veteran of several campaigns. He was a man who had traveled the world, and he thought he’d seen everything.
Nothing could have been further from the truth.
The men around him screamed in fear, abandoning their posts and running as if their lives depended on it.
In all likelihood, they did.
His invasion of the city had been something of a masterstroke on his part. They had marched through the Northern Tribe’s territory with hardly any resistance. And now, his army was in
shambles. In a single fight, they’d lost so, so many.
Men were posted on the city walls with strange weapons, killing with impunity. But his men were disciplined—moreover, they were hungry. This city was the promise of a lifetime of riches. They did not break.
They’d seen monsters, a man of myth that tore through soldiers as if they were toys.
Still they held. Haldor was content in the knowledge that the city could be starved out. And though his men didn’t look forward to a lengthy siege, more than a few burned with the dishonor that came from the deaths of their friends and loved ones.
That was before they saw what loomed over the city.
His subcommanders tried to shout orders as more fled for the road behind them. They were ignored; he could see one man attempting to stop his men at spear point. He was killed a moment later.
The camp was in disarray.
The blackened creature towered over the city’s walls. Simply looking at it stirred a primal fear in him.
This land was cursed. He knew that now.
This entire campaign was a mistake.
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“How in the fuck are we supposed to kill that?” Summers yelled as the group ran. Summers scooped Asle over his shoulder. She’d refused to stay behind, and Summers mentally noted that he’d need to have a conversation with her about knowing your own limits.
The creature stood behind them, an amalgamation of thousands of bodies.
“Aim for the legs!” Nowak snapped. The group unloaded their guns. It didn’t seem affected until Cortez got the bright idea to use a grenade.
On the detonation, the creature fell to the ground. Arms shot out, scrabbling for purchase. More than a few guards were crushed, then dragged into its body as hands as large as their torsos tightened around them.
A building Summers dearly hoped was deserted flattened under the massive creature’s weight. It crawled now, pursuing them through the city’s alleys.
They’d only managed to get some distance because of its size. It was too big. The city itself made it difficult for the creature to move. But it didn’t slow it as much as Summers would have liked. He watched as its foot slammed through the roof of a warehouse, only for it to scramble forward, a mouth the size of a small home screaming in sheer fury.
The guards had scattered, yet somehow, it stayed laser-focused on their group. Whether that was luck, or it held some sort of grudge, Summers hadn’t a clue.
Cortez looked over to Nisha. “How far is the market?”
“What?” Nisha looked at Cortez in confusion.
“Where is it?”
“It’s . . . it’s close.” Nisha panted as they ran.
“Oh, fuck me.” Summers glanced over to Nisha, suddenly understanding what Cortez had planned. “Is it empty?”
“Of course!” Nisha answered.
“Good. Because it’s going to be a crater when we’re done.”
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Summers threw open the door to the building that housed the city’s supply of black powder.
“What’s your plan?” Summers looked to Cortez. The room was full of barrels. More than enough to blow them and a good chunk of the city into orbit.
Cortez grabbed the nearest barrel, dumping its contents on the ground while looking to Nisha. “We’re going to need somewhere to take cover. If you have any suggestions, now’s the fucking time.”
Nisha was almost entranced, but managed to answer. “There’s a canal nearby. Would that work?”
“How near?” Cortez looked at the woman harshly.
“At the end of the road.”
“Fuck it, it’ll do.” Cortez dumped the remains of the barrel into the pit with the others.
She took a grenade from her pocket, pulled the pin, and jammed it, handle and all, between two barrels.
Summers watched in a mixture of horror as the barrels rocked back and forth. If they were moved even an inch, that would be it for all of them.
Sometimes, Cortez really did scare him.
“Let’s move!” Nowak yelled. Summers snapped back to reality as the creature roared once again.
He didn’t bother waiting for the others. With his speed, he crossed the distance before anyone.
The monster at their backs was almost on top of them now. He quickly lowered Asle down the embankment and into the water, looking back to check on the others.
Nowak followed close behind with Cortez. Logan was struggling to keep pace with his prosthetic, but wasn’t too far behind.
The creature roared again, its long hand whipping out, shattering a building in the distance and throwing it at them.
Summers covered over Asle as debris washed over the group, brick and dust sending them sprawling. Something about the movement must have thrown the creature off balance, though, because it fell squarely on the room holding the black powder a moment later.
Nothing happened.
Summers jumped out of cover. Nowak and Cortez were stunned, but Nisha’s leg was twisted and bleeding; she must have been hit by the debris.
Logan grabbed the woman under the arms, pulling her into a fireman’s carry and waving Summers off. “Go!”
Summers didn’t waste time arguing. Instead, he pulled Nowak and Cortez the last few feet into the canal. If they weren’t dead yet, they had only a precious few seconds before the grenade would ignite the black powder, and that would change everything very quickly.
“Cover your ears!” Cortez yelled as she slid down into the water. The creature was only just regaining its footing.
Summers watched as Logan hobbled, Nisha on his shoulders, the prosthetic straining under the weight. Summers counted the remaining time on the fuse. It would be tight, but they could make it.
Just as they neared, the prosthetic snapped, sending both of them tumbling to the ground a dozen feet short of safety.
The last thing Summers saw before diving into the safety of the water was Logan desperately dragging the woman with everything he had.
It wasn’t enough.
Their world was engulfed by flame.
Corporal Mark Logan died attempting to save a civilian. He was twenty-six.
Chapter 28: The Pyre
Summers sat up with a start, breathing heavily. He looked around, making sure the room was still the same as he’d left it. He took one deep breath before he started to calm himself.
The last few days had been rough.
He was sitting in the corner of a lavish bedroom, one of the few that had been left untouched by the creature’s rampage. The lavish furs that had been set aside for him felt constraining. Instead, he’d taken to sleeping with his back to the sturdiest wall he could find.
It wasn’t paranoia, exactly. Most of the time they’d spent in the aftermath of the fight involved cleaning up the remnants of the creature. After the blast, pieces of it had lain steaming in the streets and the rubble of what used to be the market. Whatever it had been, the explosion was enough to put it out of commission. The city had taken to burning any black, sludge-like flesh they could find. That included any left on the bodies. And there were a lot of bodies, more than Summers could have imagined. Worst of all, not all of them had been victims of the creature.
Summers rubbed at tired eyes. As it turned out, the refugees had taken to hiding in some of the abandoned parts of the city. They’d helped clear people from the rubble—some were alive; most weren’t—and the search had done nothing but burn the image into Summers’ brain.
He was used to death. Hell, even here, during his brief time on this world, he’d seen more than his fair share.
But those had been soldiers. Moreover, they’d been adults.
Suffice to say, he was not in the best of places. The window outside was showing the barest hint of dawn, so he decided that it was better to have an early morning than to try to force sleep.
By the time he’d gotten ready and stepped outside, he found Asle in the closest commo
n area, her knees held to her chest as increasingly harried-looking servants passed by.
“Hi . . .” Asle watched him approach. Even from this distance, he could tell she was just as tired as he was.
She hadn’t said much since they’d found Logan’s body. Most of the time, she’d been in her room, or helping the others coordinate with the guards.
“You’re up early . . .” Summers sat in a plush armchair beside her.
They were silent like that for some time. She shifted in her seat as two servants started shouting in the distance.
“Do you want to talk?” Asle looked at him, head tilted.
“All right. What do you want to talk about?”
“What’s bothering you?” She glanced up at him. “It helped when . . . I . . .”
“When Logan talked to you?” Summers supplied.
Asle nodded.
The very fact that she of all people had noticed, and was trying to help him, did more to ground him than anything.
She was a kid. Kids shouldn’t have to worry about things like this. He was a soldier. He’d more or less signed up for . . . well, something resembling this, if nothing else. He’d have plenty of time to untangle his mess of a brain later.
Summers turned to the girl. “How ’bout we practice? Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
Asle looked back to the ground for a moment before meeting his eyes.
“Okay . . .”
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It was a few hours later when the others woke to join them. Asle wiped at her face as Nowak and Cortez sat, looking just as haggard as Summers felt.
“Your eyes look better,” Nowak noted.
“Yeah . . .” Summers mashed a palm into his forehead. Over the past few days, his eyes had begun to fade back to their old selves, much like the redness of the fog had—everything except the iris, that is. Those had stayed pitch black. Most of the servants still had trouble looking directly at him, but it was at least an improvement.
He didn’t blame them, either. Even during the fight, he’d recognized something, instinctively, about the creature . . . he hadn’t felt the same hunger toward it. Even as it bled. Instead, he felt a sort of kinship.