Otherworld Soldiers- Rise of the Apocalypse

by Fox Lancet

  “Well, I believe we have arrived,” Hunter attempted, then regarded Syler. “I understand my words, but it is not our natural tongue with which we speak.” Hunter grimaced, running a hand through the strands of long hair on his head and pushing them before his eyes to see that they were black.

  The two had reanimated drastically. Their skin was pale. They had gained hair in many places, all of which was black. Even their weapons had modified themselves, adjusting to the current world the way their forms had. Their chain maces became thick chains that draped from belt loop to belt loop and their swords transformed to daggers that fitted along their belts. Eyes were still solid black, no white. The only clothing they wore was a black material that encased each leg and fell slightly past their knees.

  Syler was the first to begin walking. He approached the nearby structures. Hunter joined him moments later, still petting his hair and searching for his missing horns.

  Barefooted and bare-chested, the two Demons—guised now in the forms of two sturdy, lean creatures—meandered through the golden waves of grass toward what they assumed to be havens of the dominating beings of the new realm. They entered the area side by side. When their bare feet met a hot, solid path they both hesitated, glancing down and around. They looked to one another, shrugged, and continued. Immediately, the two were aware they were not assembled completely as they drew avid attention from the creatures they now resembled.

  “The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves,” Syler growled as he stared back at two passersby whose gazes dropped quickly.

  “We are not attired properly. We are missing coverings for our feet and upper bodies,” Hunter replied, examining over his shoulder the two creatures they had passed. He returned his gaze forward.

  “We need to inform ourselves as soon as it is possible. This deficient knowledge is daunting; I despise my discomfort from it,” Syler spoke low, his new voice sonorous. Hunter bowed his head in agreement.

  “Here.” After walking in silence for a while, Hunter pulled open a glass door and entered a large open room with shelves of unknown items and racks of clothing. There was a counter to the right and behind it stood a lone female. Hunter smiled broadly at her as Syler passed behind him toward a shelf of paper items. He picked up a magazine and started reading, his black eyes darting over the writing and pictures.

  “Hello,” Hunter greeted the female at the counter, eyeing her shamelessly. She stood rigidly.

  “Hi,” she responded, then ventured further, “can I help you?”

  His smile never wavered.

  “I believe you can.” He propped an arm on the counter and rested his body weight against it. “So my comrade and I--” He motioned to Syler, who did not acknowledge the mention. “--are new here, if you could not discern.” She nodded once cautiously in understanding.

  “Tell me, what are he and I missing that causes us to be strange?” He studied the features of her face.

  Before she could answer, Syler announced, “Shirts and shoes.” Hunter turned and looked at him. Syler still did not pry his eyes from the information in his hands. Hunter lifted a new, bushy, black brow and pulled himself from the counter. He joined Syler at the magazine-stand and from its many rows he plucked one with a tattoo-clad, half-naked woman staring seductively from the front cover. Smiling, he began glancing through it, finding he could not only read it all instantly, but swiftly as well.

  The woman watched the two foreboding, half-dressed men quietly. They were both extraordinarily tall and their solid black eyes were shaded. However, she felt strangely drawn to their masculinity; both were muscular with an overpowering presence and flawlessly handsome. They did not seem to notice her stare even after fifteen minutes had passed and they ceased their reading.

  “Hunter, there are shirts,” Syler broke the silence with a jerk of his chin toward some racks on the other side of the stand. “Retrieve us both one and let us depart promptly.” Syler began collecting a pile of magazines while Hunter scouted through the shirts. He held a black one up in front of himself, examining it curiously before pulling it on, getting lost in the sleeves briefly. Syler unloaded his pile of selected magazines on the counter. Hunter handed him a black shirt and he eyed it in the same manner as Hunter had before donning it.

  “Do you have a carrier for these?” Syler asked the woman.

  “I have a bag,” she responded and pulled a noisy plastic bag from under the counter.

  “Good. Now, you have no shoes here. Where can my comrade and I find shoes?” His hands were braced on the counter ledge and he leaned slightly toward her.

  “There’s an Army Surplus just a block that way.” The woman pointed past him.

  “Army Surplus,” Syler repeated slowly.

  “Sounds like a place we might supply ourselves,” Hunter interjected.

  “Yes…” A smile crawled onto Syler’s face. “It does. But first, I believe, this girl will want us to pay for the items we have collected.”

  Hunter squinted. “With what?” He watched the girl with genuine curiosity.

  “Money: cash, credit card. It is what people use for trade here,” Syler spat the word ‘people’ and kept his eyes on the girl. Hunter repeated ‘people’ to himself. “However, I believe they will make an exception for you and me.”

  Glancing briefly at the security screen hidden from the general public behind the counter to ensure it was recording, the girl gasped in surprise. The screen relayed only dark misty clouds where the men were standing in front of the counter.

  “Right?” Syler’s voice broke in on her observation. She looked at him, tense with fear and nodded vigorously.

  “Ye-a-a-yes,” she stammered, pressing her back against the counter.

  “I would not have accepted anything less.” Syler sneered and led the way out.

  Syler walked casually down the concrete path in the direction the shop girl had pointed. Hunter followed similarly with an anxious gaze. He took in the new world like a energetic child while Syler kept his eyes forward: apathetic toward his surroundings, thinking only of necessary, documented information, and the lone target on the agenda.

  The duo froze as a large, noisy creature approached and passed. Their gazes followed it until it disappeared around a bend. They looked at one another.

  “I have seen those resting on the road, but I did not know that they moved, or that they were even alive,” Hunter wondered aloud. Syler grimaced and looked up and down the black street where several more of what they had just seen pass by were stone-still and silent. He then impatiently began digging through his bag. Completing his search, he plopped the bag carelessly down next to his bare feet. Hunter watched skeptically as Syler devoured yet another magazine with his eyes.

  “Cars or vehicles; their names become more specific with the different shapes and sizes. They are what these people use for transportation. The same way we use our horses, but their vehicles are measured in horse-power; some with the power of three hundred or more!” Syler looked up from his reading, his eyes squinted in disbelief. Hunter smiled and nodded.

  After a few more minutes of reading, Syler scowled and shoved the magazine back in the bag.

  “Very efficient. They must have many resources at their disposal.” He snatched up his bag and continued on. “It will speed up our progress. Who knows how large this world is? We can only wish for the key to be near the gate.”

  “Well, I have seen or felt nothing of significance. If she is near, it is not near enough,” Hunter said.

  “You are quite right, brother. Though, perhaps she is there.” Syler made no gesture toward what he meant, but it was obvious.

  “This task, I see, will be more formidable than we anticipated. Let us not underestimate these creatures.” Hunter’s solid, obsidian eyes wandered back and forth over the view.

  The duo had rounded a bend and come to cross streets that started at the top of a great hill. It left the sky open and cleared a view beyond the treed mounds surroundin
g their location to reveal an astounding sight beyond. At the foot of the mountains on which they sojourned, an awesome plain rolled out and faded to an immense horizon. However, what awed the pair were the unnatural structures plastered across the face of the entire valley. Roads cut nearly perfect squares across the already disrupted land, lending access by car to nearly every quarter mile of human-devoured terrain. Their full view was partially obstructed by mountainsides, but they could still perceive the sheer enormity of it.

  “I do not believe these creatures will prove a threat of any kind. This world’s dominant creatures are equipped with many resources and conveniences, but because of those reasons they will be spoiled and arrogant. They will deny anything more powerful than themselves.” Syler’s eyes glided to Hunter’s and a sly, wicked look crossed his features. Hunter lifted his chin and smiled, his canines slightly sharper than the typical human’s. “For now we will tread quietly. In the meantime, I think we have found what we are currently seeking.” Syler looked up at a large block sign with Hunter.

  The man’s neck snapped clean and quick. Syler looked about in surprise. Hunter stood only a few feet away and held his stomach as his laugh escaped uncontrollably.

  “They are as destructible as our original enemies,” Syler announced factually as the man’s round body crumbled to the floor behind the counter. Hunter’s peals of laughter ceased to diminish and he bent over, his new voice stirred into a horrific roar among his passionate display. Syler only smiled at his cohort’s reaction, pleased with his own conclusion. Hunter began to gasp for breath and glanced at Syler’s satisfied features.

  “There you are, brother.” Hunter straightened himself and regarded Syler proudly.

  “What do you mean?” Syler’s smile faded. Hunter did not vocalize it, and instead pointed at the mirror running the length of the wall behind the counter. Syler turned to the space where the man he just killed had been standing. There he saw the reflection of his new self. However, red pupils had broken through the black orbs of his eyes and his canines had grown slightly longer. He sighed. “I am still there, beneath this form,” he murmured and turned to Hunter, who held his gaze almost reverently. His eyes strayed suddenly past Hunter, who turned to view the distraction.

  A lone man had meandered from the backroom and had a cautious distance between him and the two ominous men loitering in the front of the store. Both were clad in hefty, knee-high boots, all-black attire, and both were set with aberrant, dark gazes. The nearest one took a long step forward and the man only had a chance to make the turn to run before Hunter seized him by the hair.

  “You are not going anywhere.” He dragged the man from his feet and back toward the glass counter. The man kicked and yelled, clawing at Hunter’s wrist and prying at his fingers without success. Hunter shattered the glass with his elbow. He reached inside and retrieved a ten-inch knife that he forced into the back of the human in his clutches. Flesh breaking, the steel of the knife pushed past bone and slid between muscles and organs. Its tip appeared partially on the other side of the body and Hunter held the blade in place while he pulled the man slowly up to his feet. The folded metal sliced down through the man’s torso.

  When Hunter straightened and removed the weapon, the blade slid out with a wet cadence; the victim gurgled and melted to the marble floor. Blood pooled around his new steel-toed boots. Glancing at the mirror behind the counter, he saw an unconscious smirk smearing his face and the center of his eyes were red like Syler’s. His glance found Syler and stopped. They smiled candidly at one another.

  “That was fortifying,” Hunter announced. Syler gave a curt nod. The red in their eyes abated.

  “Let us finish here and see if we can locate a vehicle so that we might get to the massive population at the bottom of the mountain.” Syler looked about.

  Hunter surveyed the corpses carefully while Syler wandered the premises. “I think these chains will be more promising than the ones we are currently equipped with.” Syler lifted two pairs of thick, heavy-linked chains off a rack. They jangled densely in his grip. Not acknowledging his cohort’s lack of response, he also grabbed a handful of necklaces off a nearby hook. They were long and adorned with two blank metal slates each. He shoved them in his pocket then surveyed the area carefully before returning to Hunter’s side. Hunter’s hands were full with items Syler did not recognize. “What do you have there?” He put out his empty hand to take some of the items and in return offered the wallet chains he was carrying. They traded.

  “They are loose items I found in the pockets of the people we killed. They each had these similar objects.” Hunter turned them over in his hands. “I thought perhaps if they both have them that it would only be correct that we have them as well, to seem less odd.”

  Syler bowed his head and lifted a brow. “Clever discovery, Hunter. Who knows, perhaps they may serve us in the near future. By the way, they are men.”

  “Men.” Hunter’s eyes descended upon the corpses malevolently then glanced at the objects in his hands. There were two items each: one a ring strung with oddly shaped metal pieces and one of folded leather. Syler started filing through the leather piece. Unfolded, it held paper and plastic; some with pictures of the man they had just put to rest and some with his name and long, extended numbers. Others with different names and titles printed on them.

  Syler shrugged. “Let us exit where the last man came from.” He motioned to the back door. Hunter’s gaze followed the gesture and he nodded.

  Booting it to the door, they walked back into the new, overwhelming sunlight. Both squinted through it. Hunter put a hand up to shield his black eyes from a pronounced reflection that the fiery sun angled toward him from a piece of chrome. He growled shortly. Syler followed then smiled.

  “Look at this.” He approached the objects that glared at them. Once again shuffling purposefully through his noisy plastic bag of magazines, he located the item he searched for. “Harley Davidson Motorcycles. They are mobile vehicles without encasings that can only carry one or two passengers. They have better gas mileage and they have only two wheels as opposed to four.” He spoke the word ‘gas’ with slight hesitation, unaware of its meaning.

  “How do we make them move?” Hunter inquired. Syler flipped each page, scanning them diligently. He scowled.

  “It describes its functions from the very depths of its innards, but it says nothing of what turns it on,” Syler stated, irritated.

  They both tensed and looked past the building they had come from. There were merry voices approaching.

  “Sidney, you are such a goof! I don’t believe you for a second!” A young girl’s voice became apparent over the distance. Hunter growled and readied for a fight. Syler grabbed his shoulder.

  “We are not at home, Hunter. Still your killer or I will,” Syler snarled quietly.

  Hunter clenched his teeth and straightened his body. After a second, two small human females appeared at the edge of the fence, walking nonchalantly along the concrete path. Syler and Hunter stared in their direction. One of the girls noticed their stare and stopped, nudging her friend for attention. She joined her friend in pause. They appeared apprehensive.

  “Hello,” Syler ventured.

  “Hi,” replied one of the girls with hair the color of the grass they had walked through. Her dark-haired friend, shot a disapproving glance at her.

  “Do you girls know how to make these Harley Davidsons go?” he attempted further. The yellow-haired girl skipped in their direction while the dark-haired girl hissed at her, missing a grip on her friend’s arm.

  “Sure, my daddy has two! I can’t drive ‘em, but he takes me for rides all the time,” she answered. Syler smiled wickedly at her innocent disposition, Hunter portraying the same response soon after.

  The little blond girl launched herself onto the motorcycle. Her small hand darted out toward Syler, palm up.

  “You got the key?” she asked boldly. Syler and Hunter glanced at one another.

  “I
have these.” Syler pulled the folded leather and sliver objects from his pocket. The little girl smiled with delight and snatched the silver metal out of his hand. She flipped through them until she seemed pleased with one in particular.

  “So you just stick it in here, like so.” She jammed it into a chrome notch in front of her. It slid in easily. “Then you turn it like--” It resisted her motion. She tried twice more before removing it and sending her glittering blue eyes in Hunter’s direction.

  “May I see your keys?” she inquired politely. Hunter sneered at her as he reached into his pocket to retrieve his set of keys, his black eyes frozen on her tiny form. He tossed them in a low arc and she caught them with both hands. She proceeded with her demonstration.

  “Ya just gotta turn the key then hit the clutch and squeeze the gas.” She came down on a lever next to her foot while simultaneously squeezing one of the levers on the handlebars. The chrome beast roared to life.

  Syler smiled approvingly and approached the other Harley Davidson to mimic her actions. The girl slid from her mount and followed Syler. He got it on the first try.

  “Now you just need to know brake and gas.” She pointed at each one in succession.

  Hunter had already climbed onto the rumbling vehicle. He turned the front wheel with the handlebars then let the motorcycle roll forward carefully as he turned it in a circle toward the alley entrance where the little girls had appeared. The dark-haired girl was gone.

  Syler turned his motorcycle in the same direction and bent his neck to look down at the girl. She rocked on her heels with her hands behind her back.

  “Since you were of some assistance, I will let you live. That will be my gratitude.” His eyes flashed and he gave her a depraved smile. The little girl frowned and stepped back from his menacing form. He laughed deeply and let the motorcycle carry him away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

  “Ass-hole,” she murmured as the dust settled and she listened to the noisy vehicles fade into the distance.