by Won, Mark
Copyright 2018
A Work of Fiction Written by Mark Won
Haven From Hell: Warrior’s Chronicle
Part 1: Family Man
Chapter 1: Golf Ball Gold, Empty Threats, and A Short Drive
As I felt my way through the murky shallows I made sure to keep my search methodical. Anything less would be like leaving money on the table. I had no idea which golf balls my questing fingers would uncover but I was happy to take them all and sort them out later.
Hunting golf balls was easy money for almost no work. My experience in the service made such light work a piece of cake, and I had an important use for the money. One can never begin saving for collage tuition too soon. With two daughters already and a son on the way I was feeling hungry for all the easy pickings I could get.
Those were my thoughts as I reached out a hand, searching blindly, bringing everything I grabbed back into my bag. Since the water trap was filthy my visibility was nil. For a high end Florida golf course it sure was poorly maintained. The whole thing had a sewage stench to it like something had died and was rotting on the bottom somewhere. Not very hygienic, I know, but the money was good.
I could easily sell the right golf ball for $5.00. Almost everything that I’d scooped up would sell for at least $60.00 a dozen, new. I’d planned on selling for half that, used. My thinking was that I’d haul up well over a hundred golf balls from this one trap. The entire course had four more man made traps of the same variety. You do the math. I hadn’t even considered the treasure trove waiting to be discovered in the golf course’s natural hazard. From my point of view that pond might as well be full of gold.
Right about then I ran my gloved hand along the side of some old golf bag. No, it was way too rough for that. Maybe a big boot of some kind. Like an alligator skin boot.
Oh shit!
The alligator spun about and I knew that I was in a real bad way. Right off he hit me with his tail and that knocked the breath out of me, causing me to spit out my mouthpiece. Of course, that hadn’t been the animal’s intention, it was just the incidental side effect of him trying to face me underwater.
As soon as the leviathan got himself into position, he lunged forward with his mouth gaping wide. Desperately, I kicked away from him, planting one of my fins in his face. The monster didn’t seen to mind. He clamped down on what I’d offered it, and began trying to engage me in a death roll. My footwear popped off in its mouth and I tried to take advantage of the distraction by bolting for the surface.
That reptile wasn’t having any of it. He knew he’d been cheated as soon as my fin came off and immediately made a snap at my thrashing legs. I could feel the attack coming so I pulled up both legs just as the animal’s teeth locked together. That maneuver cost me my another fin but I was happy for the trade off. As soon as the alligator had grabbed it I’d hoped that he would try another of those energetic rolls he seemed so fond of, but no go, the beast wasn’t about to let himself be fooled by the same trick twice.
Before he could make another attack I managed to kick him in the snout and frantically broke the surface of the water trap. I had just about enough time for one big gulp of air before I could sense those giant jaws gaping wide just below me.
I knew that the animal could catch me long before I would be able to get to shore, so instead of attempting to flee I slid to one side. I felt teeth clamping on my wetsuit as I performed a roll to get underneath the thing. My suit tore but it did manage to save me from the worst of the bite. Once I managed to get underneath the alligator I grabbed ahold of his rough hide in a pathetic effort to keep its teeth at bay, if just for an instant.
Mr. Alligator didn’t like that one bit. He began thrashing all over the place, as if he were on the cusp of death and frantic to escape my deadly embrace. Judging by the way he panicked, the stupid creature must have thought he was in a heck of a lot more danger than my bear hug merited. I would have been just as happy to let go of the aquatic demon and call it even, but I didn’t think my opponent would see things in the same light. I kicked away from the alligator and made a break for the water trap’s bank while drawing my knife.
No sooner had that brainless hateful monstrosity sensed my release than he rebounded and came for me again. I turned to face him and held out my knife with the blade pointed down. My hope was that he would make a grab for the proffered appendage, and I was not disappointed by the animal’s adherence to his base instincts. As soon as he made his move I pulled back my arm, causing the tip of my antagonist’s tooth filled face to bite down on my knife’s point. That really got his attention.
He started to shake his head all over in an attempt to dislodge my little present, so I took that opportunity to finally make my dash for the water’s edge. I made it too, and for about five seconds I thought the fight was over. I mean, why wouldn’t it be? If someone had stuck a knife in my mouth I’d have had the fight taken out of me, that’s for sure. My assumption proved to be a big mistake. Also, I had overlooked the fact that alligators are capable of pursuing prey onto land.
No sooner had I caught my breath then Mr. Alligator came surging out of the water, looking for round two. Somehow he had managed to dislodge my knife and now seemed intent on getting his reptilian version of vengeance. I barely heard his approach in time to turn and face the threat, when he lunged for me. I pulled back as quickly as I was able and did manage to escape having my face ripped off. Unfortunately, the animal somehow had managed to fasten its toothy maw on my dangling mouthpiece, so that with a massive backward movement, it pulled me back into the water.
The animal could sense that he didn’t have the grip he needed to do any real damage so he released his hold on my scuba equipage and moved in for the kill. I thrust out my arms and grabbed the ugly brute’s upper and lower jaw and forcibly closed them. Then I wrapped myself around its mouth and clung for dear life. Naturally, the alligator began thrashing about all over again.
I used the opportunity to tear my breathing hose off and wrap it around the animal’s mouth, trying to tie it shut. I wasn’t able to quite tie the knot as well as I would have liked before being cast aside in the struggle.
My first action was to breach the surface and grab a lungful of air. I knew that my attempt to muzzle the monster wouldn’t hold, so I immediately dove for the bottom, where I hoped my knife had fallen after the alligator had dislodged it. The water was blacker than the ace of spades and my old combat knife was coated with its own dull black coating (you don’t want a shiny knife when sneaking up behind a terrorist, trust me). You’d think that it would be impossible for me to find, especially in the brief seconds I had available for the search, but countless hours of practice, as well as innumerable combat missions, had left me with something of a sixth sense when it comes to that particular weapon. I found it on my second grab, just in time for Mr. Alligator to find me.
My nemesis grabbed hold of my arm with that vice-like grip they have and started to spin me around like a top. It’s not as much fun as it sounds. I was glad that I’d found my combat knife or I would have been totally screwed. Even as it was, the animal had taken ahold of my right arm, the arm of the hand holding my knife, which made it impossible for me to use the weapon. With me going around and around I had one helluva time getting my knife switched into my left hand, but I managed it. Once I started stabbing the beast repeatedly it changed its tune and tried to let go of me, but I didn’t let go of it. I was through playing at being Mr. Nice Guy. I finally managed to stab that damn thing in the vitals somewhere, ending its miserable excuse for a life.
Don’t get me wrong, I love animals. If I’d have known it was down there I’d have call
ed animal control in a heartbeat. My problem isn’t with large aquatic predators, it’s with large aquatic predators trying to kill me (for whatever reason). As soon as I’d killed it I felt kinda bad about it. Which is strange when I think about it. I’ve killed scores of my nation’s enemies and never had a qualm. Then I killed a reptile to save my life and I felt guilty about it. It was like that time I killed a frisky tiger shark off the coast of North-. Well, that’s another story, I guess.
Anyhow, it was quite a job hauling that carcass out of the water and up the bank. I wasn’t sure if I should call someone or just to the hospital. My arm wasn’t broken but I did have a nasty big bite on it, it could have used some stitches.
That’s when I noticed the groundskeeper or caretaker or whatever coming over to me. I thought that he must have seen some evidence of my underwater struggle and was coming over to see what all the commotion was about. It looked to me like he was drunk by the way he was shambling about. There was a small crowd of golfers coming along behind him and they all looked drunk, too. Figures. There I was, fighting for my life, when everybody else was having a party. Story of my life, really.
As the drunken sots approached I noticed that they had uniform glazed expressions. Also, they were moaning as they stumbled along. It was weird and not what I’d expected. Naturally, my hand went back to my knife.
“What’s up, guys? You all look pretty messed up.” My query elicited no response. I was growing worried. Normal people don’t behave like that. Especially the well dressed clientele of a prestigious country club. So I drew my knife and tried again.
“I don’t know what game y’all think you’re playing, but if you don’t quit screwing around I’ll gut y’all like a string of fish.” I figured that ought to do it. That a black man surrounded by a bunch of rich white folks would utter those words goes to show just how freaked out I was by the situation. I was almost looking forward to the cops showing up.
They didn’t seem too impressed by my threats so I turned and jumped into the water, swam across, climbed out, and reevaluated my situation.
We were only about eleven yards away from each other. There were about ten of them and they had lined themselves up all along their side of the water hazard. From there they reached their arms over the water at me and kept on moaning at me. I’d left all my stuff on the other side, and as I watched, a couple of those folks trampled my stuff into the water. That pissed me off. Mostly because that’s where my phone was.
You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just slice them up like I’d promised. You see, that was an empty threat. Unlike some really good friends of mine, I know that what’s okay far away ain’t okay at home. If you’re wandering around some Godless desert surround by murderous terrorists then it’s okay to shoot first and ask questions later (or, better yet, never). But if your in Florida, surrounded by rich people, you can’t expect to get away with the same sort of behavior. I know, what’s the difference, right?
I could tell that they weren’t in the mood to talk, so I turned and started to jog away. I thought that I’d just get to a phone and call the cops. My best guess at the time was that someone must have spiked the party goers’ punch or drugs. That still left me wondering how the groundskeeper fell under the influence. I’d always been under the impression that dissipated silver spoon types didn’t share with the help.
It didn’t take me too long to reach the edge of the club’s property, where I hailed a passerby. My first impression was that she was some jogger in the middle of breaking her stride, out for her morning constitutional. My main concern was how freaked out she’d be by some random weirdo in a scuba suit, bleeding all over the place, asking to use her phone. If she called the cops, though, that would work for me. She did not.
Instead, she had adopted the same shambling gait which my previous pursuers had displayed. At first I thought that she was on a break from her jog due to a stitch in her side, but as soon as she turned those milky eyes on me I knew I had a real problem. My first thought was bio-terrorism. My second thought was for Felicia and the kids.
Whatever had made this thing happen had a pretty wide area of effect. I figured that the reason it hadn’t gotten ahold of me was because I’d been breathing canned air at the time. Even with what little I knew about air-borne pathogens and toxins that didn’t really seem to fit the facts, but it was the best I could come up with.
Again, I ran. I didn’t want to end up slaughtering tons of Americans whose only crime was being under the influence of some terrorist attack. I did have to get back to my family, though. That made for a problematic situation.
I wanted transportation. I had to get back to Felicia and the kids. I had no car of my own, I taken a cab to reach the country club. But with such a wide spread attack underway I could hardly call a cab to take me to where I wanted to be. The country club types had some of the newest and best cars around with all the finest features, including anti-theft security. Fortunately, they also had some really cool old cars, totally original. Any like that I could hot wire almost as fast as I could use the keys. So, back around the edge of the country club property I went, until I came to the parking lot.
I had my pick of classics, but I had to hurry. Some folks from the course had seen me jogging up to the lot. I wondered why they didn’t move to attack one another the way they tried to do with me. I wondered how they could tell I wasn’t one of them.
With so many cars to choose from I went with a 50’s Thunderbird. Not because it was a Thunderbird but because the owner had left the top down. I would have sooner broken a stained glass window than willingly broken the window of any of those automotive works of art. That would have been even worse than killing that poor alligator. It took me longer then it should have but I eventually got the motor running, closed the hood, put away my multi-tool, and drove off just as the crowd of moaning terror victims began closing in on my position. I felt bad about the blood from my alligator bite getting all over the upholstery.
All those poor people. I was beginning to suspect that the effect might not just wear off. It was beginning to look like the kind of thing that might leave permanent damage. It might even be fatal. I resolved then and there that if Felicia, Sarah, and Lindsy were killed by this that I’d make it my life’s mission to meet out punishment upon whoever was responsible. I’d leave the authorities out of it.
I was in a part of Florida that had no shortage of housing. The club had been somewhat remote, but in order to get home I would need to pass through a number of neighborhoods. My hope was that I’d leave the area of effect behind me and that I’d find some healthy people quickly.
Instead, what I found was a town under riot. People were running everywhere, gunfire was all over the place, and I saw what happened when the affected catch ahold of a normal person. The normal person died.
It went down like this: A young woman and her two kids were running down the sidewalk when one of the affected grabbed her by the arm. He drew her into a hug while tearing at her face with his teeth. Long before I got there the mob closed in. Maybe if her two little ones had run they could have lived until I drove up. But they didn’t. They stayed staring at their mommy, screaming and crying until silenced by the enemy. That’s when I realized that this was a life or death struggle. Mr. Happy Face Civilian Nice Guy went bye-bye and the real me came crawling back up from my bleak home down underneath. It was time to get to work.
In the back seat of my new car there was a designer windbreaker which I quickly snagged and used as a bandage for my bite wounds. I had to stop the car in order to perform that task, and by the time I was finished a number of the affected had managed to close on my position. I drove through them without any concern for their wellbeing.
Next, I needed information. To that end I kept my eyes open for any potential source I could reach in relative safety. The car’s radio proved to be completely original but non-functional. No doubt the owner had had plans for that. After another half mile I noticed another hea
lthy person surrounded by a baker’s dozen of the enemy. They had him cornered up on a dumpster. The enemy seemed to have trouble climbing and that gave their would-be victim a fighting chance. I decided to help. I gunned the engine and ran down the affected that got in my way. Meanwhile, I skidded the passenger side right up to the dumpster, causing my target to half fall into the passengers seat. Perfect.
Before any of the enemy could attempt to retaliate I got back up to speed and got myself back on course. I was heading for the docks and home. Until I got there I had a little time to kill with a potential information source.
“My name’s Paul. Who’re you?” I didn’t care, of course. It’s just that introductions are a good way to get things started when dealing with a neutral element.
“R-r-r-rich.” He seemed scared. That was normal but could make the interrogation more time consuming.
“Nice name, Rich. So… How’s you’re day been going so far? Feel free to be specific.”
He had to say, “Everybody’s mutated, man. It’s, like, I don’t know. They were, like, and then, like, you know what I mean? So I just ran when I saw Ron get ripped up and then I drove until I crashed and then those things, like, man, were everywhere, like, so I, like, ran, and, like, got on, like, the dumpster, man. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, that’s about how my day’s gone, too. What time was it when things first got weird?”
“It was, like, 7:51 man.” That seemed awfully specific, coming from Rich.
“How do you know?”
“I was, like, going to, like, be late, like, for work, man. You know what I mean?”
“Yes, yes I do know what you mean. Do you know how wide spread this effect is?”
“Yeah, man. It’s, like, everywhere man. All over. I heard on the TV. You know what I mean?”
“No, Rich, I don’t know what you mean. Please continue.”
During our scintillating conversation I kept encountering the enemy. They showed very little respect for their lives. Repeatedly they ran headlong into the grill and got ground into the pavement. I had to be as careful as I could to keep them off the hood. It took a while but I eventually noticed that the ones I hit usually got back up. My presumption was that they would die from their wounds later.