A Shrouded World 6

by Mark Tufo

  It really depends on how their vision works. If they have eagle eyes and can pick out the slightest of movements, I’m done for. I feel a quick spark of hope that they see in the thermal range, as I’d become lost to them in the heat of the desert. However, I seriously doubt that, considering how precise they were in the battle. They wouldn’t have been able to see the soldiers well enough to pick them off like they did. So, they don’t rely on thermal.

  I suppose I can wait for nightfall, but that will bring a whole new set of dangers. I’m not very keen on fighting both the creatures perched at the entrance and night runners, assuming they’ll even appear at this location. Of course, there’s the counter-argument that night runners would provide a distraction; if they attack the creatures I’ll be able to escape in the ensuing battle. But I’m not really willing to chance that happening. With my luck, I’d be the sole focus of both.

  Perhaps there’s a way to still utilize that. A plan comes to mind and I begin easing from my position back along the side of the structure. As far as the demon inside goes, I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion by now that he’s unable to exit. He’s either trapped in the building or he vanished when I escaped. Considering the lack of sound coming from within and the fact that there wasn’t any confrontation with Kalandar entering, I’m assuming the latter. Perhaps there were parameters in place with his summoning.

  Inching my way back and listening for the first hint of buzzing, I reach a spot where I believe I can make the gully without being observed from the front. I crouch and hurry away from the building. The heat coming off the sand is more than uncomfortable as I nestle into the confines of the shallow trench. I remove my pack and place it before me. The space isn’t deep enough to completely hide the pack and my body. I’ll have to make this a very slow creep and hope there’s enough daylight to make it to the vehicles. I throw several handfuls of sand over my back and pack, hoping to blend in more with the terrain. In my black fatigues, I’d stand out in the stark, tan environment.

  The heat from the sun beats down on my back and sweat runs down my face, dripping onto the sand. It’s about this time that I wonder if I shouldn’t have just gone through the damn doorway. Mike and BT apparently did, but I have no idea where that led them. I hope they’re okay, well, mostly Mike. But I don’t wish anything bad on BT either. He’s just another lost soul, like the rest of us.

  I slowly push my pack ahead a few inches, making sure to not disturb any of the sand along the sides nor raise any above the lip. I then begin to creep, just as slowly, moving one arm up and then the other to pull my body. I’m still out of sight from the front of the building, but I pretend as if I’m in view; I want to get a few practice movements and establish a rhythm. This journey will be accomplished a few meager inches at a time.

  By the time I reach the point where I’m sure I’ll be in a direct line of sight should I raise my head up, I’ve got the movement down. Now it’s time to do this for real. If I hear any buzzing growing closer, I’ll have to do my best to race into the building and take whatever it throws at me. I probably won’t make it, but there it is. I forget the aches and heat, pushing those into the deep recesses of my mind. It’s all about slow, careful progress while listening for the sound of the creatures taking wing. I pause between each movement, waiting and listening.

  I move so slowly that barely any sand has fallen from my sleeves and I hope it’s the same on my back. I actively visualize that I’m nothing but more sand as I move along the indention. Each foot takes forever; it’s an accomplishment to make it a yard without being detected. The heat rising from the sand is like a blast furnace on my face, but I keep forcing that back. Even my breath feels like I’m inhaling fire.

  Push the pack, wait, move my arm, wait, move my other arm, wait, slowly pull my body forward, wait.

  I know I must be in their line of sight by now, but so far, there isn’t any reaction, sound-wise.

  Push, wait, move, wait, move, wait, pull, wait.

  It’s agonizing in so many ways. I just keep telling myself to be patient, stay the course and not hurry things along. One's tendency is move more quickly if the current rate of movement goes undetected, but eventually it arrives to the point where it is observed. Only by remaining slow and patient do I have any chance of carrying this out. And after all, I remind myself, I’ve got a whole year.

  It’s nerve-racking business. Each foot I travel carries me further from the building and more into the open. And it’s taking forever, which, in addition to being agonizing, leaves me in the open for a much longer period of time. All it will take is a single glance, the spotting of something out of the ordinary. Any casual investigation would reveal a person low-crawling across the ground.

  Push, wait, move, wait, move, wait, pull, wait.

  The sun sinks closer and closer toward the horizon. I’m baked and parched, sweat pouring down my face and into my eyes. I dare not even move to wipe away the stinging drops of salt. But at least I’m still sweating. If that ends, I’ll have to take the risk of pulling out my water bottle, which is a tantalizing foot away. It would really suck if I had to sneeze, but I’ve also learned how to subdue those. I would never recommend that as a normal course of action, though. It’s not a pleasant sensation.

  With my snail's pace across the desert plain, it could take the year in question just to reach the vehicles. The sun sinks lower, causing one of the remaining twisted vehicles to cast a long shadow across the shallow gully. That’s a welcome sight, as it means I’m near the transports. I don’t think there’s ever been another time where I wanted a drink of water so badly. My throat feels like wrinkled leather, my tongue near twice its normal size.

  Push, wait, move, wait, move, wait, pull, wait.

  I move into the shadow of a bent truck. Even though the gully is nearly straight overall, it's had its twists and turns which were interesting to negotiate. But, my cover runs out several feet ahead. I could keep to it until the end, or I could use the shadow to make my way to the vehicle. Either way includes the risk of being in the open, so the option is creeping along in the shade and thus closer to the monsters, or continuing further away but in open light.

  If I reach the first of the vehicles and the beasts are still as they were, I should be far enough away not to attract attention. Or at least that’s my hope. My brain is a little addled from the hours in the direct sun and the agonizing crawl. I decide to take the risk and slowly lift my eyes above the lip. My vision is blurred and everything seems opaque from the heat haze rising from the ground. But it appears that the winged creatures, perched stock still, have not spotted me yet. The waves of heat rising may blur my outline, and the sun is now directly in their eyes.

  Instead of pushing my pack ahead of me, I’ll drag it alongside. Ever so slowly, I ease one arm out of the gully and into the open within the shadow. Observing no movement from the structure, I pull my body partially up and over and wait. Nothing. I move a little more, and then adjust the pack so it’s beside me. I progress a little further until I’m completely in the open. My dark clothes blend in a little better in the shade. My movement is a touch faster, but impatience will be my undoing, should I allow it to come to the forefront. Inch by inch, I creep closer to the wreckage of metal.

  With relief, I’m able to move past the nearest vehicle, putting it between me and the structure. I’m in the sun again, but I have cover. Heat radiates from the metal like a frying pan hob. My lips are chapped and feel split and segmented like worms. Sitting near the truck, I take out my canteen. Air whispers out of the container as I screw the cap off. I tilt the container up, sending hot water trickling into my mouth. I’m not sure any hits the back of my throat as my tongue absorbs it. It’s hot going down, but my mouth no longer feels like an old saddle.

  The sun sits just above the horizon as I cap the water. I estimate it took me about six, maybe seven hours to cover maybe three hundred yards, and I feel every bit of it. Grit is like sandpaper inside my clothing, my elbows
and knees rubbed raw. The familiar aches and pains suffered from my time in this world return with a vengeance. But it’s time to move on and find an operable vehicle. I’ll have to crawl, using the vehicles so I’m constantly under cover.

  I finally manage to locate an undamaged vehicle. It’s not my ideal choice as it’s a transport truck with barrels in the bed. If I use this one, a fast getaway will not be part of the plan. Rising up, I peek inside. Everything looks to be in running order, but I’ll determine that closer to sunset. I crawl underneath the vehicle in case the insects take wing. Plus, it’s parked so that there is some shade below. I stare at the grease and sand covered underside while slowly emptying a water bottle taken from my pack. I contemplate a nap during the remaining daylight, but I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I’ll only wake when I’m already knee deep in night runners, and maybe not even then.

  As I lie here, I wonder what happened to Mike and BT. What was on the other side of those doors? Did the Overseers send them home so they wouldn’t interfere with their plans? Was it some kind of tradeoff for them? Somehow, I don’t get the impression that the angels trade much of anything. At least, I deeply hope I didn’t miss my chance to go home.

  And what in the fuck did Kalandar carry out of the building? If that was indeed a body, was it Mike? I mean, I didn’t see anything when I made it to the wall, but that place is huge. And, I was a touch busy at the moment. Did Mike succumb to his pursuit, and Kalandar went in to retrieve the body? I know it wasn’t BT who was carried out. That man I would have recognized. If it wasn’t Mike, then who or what was it? Trip? Maybe it was just a body-shaped trinket Kalandar wanted to recover.

  It couldn’t possibly have been an Overseer, could it? One of them said the demon worked for them from time to time, so that right there established a hierarchy. And, Kalandar was hesitant about getting involved with the angels. At least, that was the impression he gave. And when did he turn? Was it from the very beginning or did it happen later?

  What had that whisper truly meant? I’m still pretty sure it was Trip’s voice that uttered it. “One Year.” Trip is some kind of time or dimension traveler, that much is sure, but his communication skills are horrible. If he had the time to utter that phrase from wherever he was, would it have been overly difficult to say: “Remain here one year”? or “Be back in one year”?

  None of these questions have answers. I listen and keep an eye on the setting sun, knowing that I’m going through these mental gymnastics merely to occupy my time and stay awake. I can make guesses, but that’s all they’ll ever be. I guess I’ll find out in a year—if I make it out of this current mess.

  5

  Jack Walker – Chapter Three

  I climb out from under the truck when the sun lowers to where the barest edge stands above the horizon. Easing the handle, I open the door slowly to keep any creaking to a minimum. Sliding across the floorboard, I flick the switch to start warming the glow plug. The sun sets below the horizon, darkness coming on quickly in the desert. One minute it’s dusk and the next, darkness descends.

  Night falls, and, true to this world, portals begin flashing in and out of existence. Shrieks erupt over the quiet land, echoing across the desert. I raise up and glance out the side window toward the building to see the winged creatures take flight. Sure enough, the ghostly shapes of night runners flash into life and start racing toward the truck. Thanks to the smell coming from my fatigues, I’m an easy find. However, several who spawned closer to the structure race toward the hovering beasts.

  “Good luck with that,” I breathe, sliding into the driver’s seat and cranking the engine.

  Night runners are closing in quickly as the hesitant motor finally kicks over. I jam the truck into first with a grinding of gears and jolt forward as I ease off the clutch. The roar of the diesel mixes with that of the shrieks filling the night air.

  I point the truck down the road, slamming gears as quickly as I can. I pick up speed. Now, you might envision an Indy car racing away from the scene. Don’t. This is almost the exact opposite of that. But I’m moving, so there’s that.

  My carbine rests on the seat, but that will be next to useless if it comes down to fighting in the cab. Looking in my rearview and to the side, I am startled to see night runners swiftly drawing near. In between gears, I remove my sidearm and place it next to me. The heavy truck is roaring and belching smoke for all it’s worth, but the wraithlike figures are now directly behind and gaining.

  Through the sideview mirror, I see one streak up alongside and leap onto the step. The open window fills with the face of a snarling monster, one hand grasping the mirror housing. Its eyes flash silver as it leans in. Bringing my handgun up, I fire inches away from its head. Blood splashes against my face and the creature is catapulted from the truck.

  The truck shakes as night runners climb aboard. Some are scaling the planks along the sides while others clamber over the barrels on their way to the front. With one hand on the wheel, I lean out of the window and fire at a few hanging on the side. I hit one and it falls from its perch, hitting the road. The truck rocks as the dual wheels ride over the top of the fallen enemy. I fire at more, sending them tumbling along the road.

  As I’m looking back, I see ghostly shapes flying with speed toward me. The winged beasts are moving in. I pull my head back in to shift again and make sure I’m still more or less on the road. If I hit the sand, I’ll be like a wildebeest trying to ford a river of mud. In other words, totally fucked.

  If the winged beasts catch up to me, I wonder if they’ll attempt to crush the truck like they did at the beginning of the battle with the soldiers. It seemed they took out the heavy guns first before descending on the helpless men. The one was only taken down by surface to air missiles, and I’m fresh out of those.

  One night runner lands flat-footed on the hood. Its mouth is peeled back to reveal stained and broken teeth, its eyes glowing silver. I jerk the wheel over as the figure reaches out to grab one of the windshield wipers. It teeters to the side, balancing on one foot. I turn the truck to the other side and the night runner is brushed off its feet. One hand remains firmly gripped to the wiper; it’s ripped from the mount and the night runner is swept away. The truck bounces hard again as the dual-axle wheels crush bones.

  Over the racing engine, there’s a buzz that grows in intensity—I can feel as much as hear it. The giant flying creatures have arrived on the scene. At the first sound of grinding metal, or if I feel the truck beginning to lift, I’m jumping out before I get airborne. I don’t want to get plucked out of the air like the two soldiers I witnessed.

  Glancing in the side mirror, I don’t see any sign of the flying beasts. However, there are several night runners clinging again to the boards along the side. As I’m about to look back to the road, I see a huge triangular head come into view and snatch one of the night runners from the side. It vanishes, leaving a trail of blood and gore.

  This is the closest I’ve come to the flying creatures. The head is gigantic, the fangs protruding longer than I had realized. Another head darts into view, plucking yet another lucky night runner. I don’t know if the bugs are helping me or just going after targets of opportunity. I know my bullets won’t do a lick of good, should I fire out the side window, but I feel certain that if I engage them, they’ll respond in kind. That’s something I’d kind of like to avoid. Besides, the enemy of my enemy and all that. As long as they’re doing me favors by getting rid of the night runners, I’ll just leave them to that task. What happens when they run out of easy pickings is something I guess I’ll face if it comes to that.

  You know what seems really strange? Ever since I nearly succumbed to being bitten by a night runner, it seems everything I run into has the same ability to see in the dark that I do. So the enhancement isn’t really an advantage, per se.

  After checking the front, I look again to the rear. A group of night runners is still giving chase, but I’m starting to leave them behind as I’ve picked up speed. On
e of the bug-like creatures comes into view and goes for the group chasing me. Under attack, the night runners abandon their pursuit and run off to the side with the flying creature giving chase. The last sight I have of them is the bee darting into the mass and plucking one into the air.

  I take a glance in the side mirror; the second bug comes into view directly behind. Low to the ground, it rapidly draws near the truck. I unlatch the door in anticipation of the vehicle being whisked into the air. I’m going pretty fast at this point and know that no jump I could make would result in good things happening. But, it will be better than being crushed inside the vehicle…maybe.

  I keep my eye on the creature as it flies right up to the back end. Any moment now, I’ll feel its head grab hold of the speeding vehicle and turn it into a junk pile. For like the hundredth time while in this world, I’m seriously questioning my choice selection. At this moment, I believe I should have quietly left to the rear of the building and set off across the desert.

  Just as I think the beast is about to reach down and grab the speeding vehicle, it abruptly stops. It grows smaller as I continue rolling along the road. It makes a sudden rush forward and then pulls up short again. And then again. As the creature becomes more distant, I see the white body, almost glowing in the darkness, suddenly turn and dart off in the opposite direction.

  I don’t think for a moment that the huge creature was helping me and firmly believe it would have destroyed me in the next instant. Did it reach some kind of boundary that precluded it from attacking? Was it called away by the other one? Honestly, I don’t really care how it transpired. I’m just relieved that I don’t have to throw myself from a speeding vehicle and face the consequences of that action. I would be left lying in the desert, injured and with enemies all around. Not an ideal situation.