Klue walked from the sea, his plated epidermis glistening in the autumnal sunlight. His frame approached three metres in height and he looked malevolently in the direction of the Avoiders. His eyes registered pure hatred for Blackwell and a subdued fear for Feyer. He drew nearer to the pair, salivating from his cavernous mouth. His ragged hair was ruffled by the spiral winds and Blackwell started to be drawn in by the creature’s hypnotic stare. Klue smashed Feyer to the floor and left her reeling. His powerful arm burnt from touching her and he howled with rage. With Klue’s other arm he then raised Blackwell above his head. The beast walked toward one of the long-handled gaffs and seized it with his burnt arm – proceeding to thread the weapon through Blackwell. The man was in excruciating agony, but he didn’t give the beast the satisfaction of screaming. Feyer then came to her senses and unloaded a volley of Uzi bursts into the devil’s hide. She recognised the futility of what she had done when the creature gave the woman a withering look - almost an act of black humour in the context. After Klue had finished threading Blackwell through the gaff, he turned to walk towards the locals who had accounted for Wheeler.
Feyer limped to the side of her lover and he breathed his last in her arms. The fury that the woman felt gave way to her grieving and as she cradled the dead body of Blackwell she whispered him a tender lament.
"This will only be a brief parting my love. I never really let you know did I? Know how much I’ve grown to love you Dean Blackwell-need you-keep you. Our spirits will entwine in hours my love – death will be our union."
As Feyer wept, Klue accounted for the others. Some of them valiantly tried to fight back, but it was hopeless. A fatal yellow fluid was expelled from the creature’s mouth and projected in the direction of those who opposed him. When the fluid contacted their skin, it penetrated through to their bones and dangerous fumes were given off in the process. The groans of the dying rose to a new pitch and for a brief moment the sound of the dying seemed to harmonize on a low note – like cattle being bled in slaughter. Feyer was unaware of the beast as he walked back into the waves. His stagnant frame disappeared into a sea of blood.
Klue couldn’t kill Feyer, but he had left a landscape of mutilation in his wake. He swam back to the rocky shoreline of Hell, content in the knowledge that he still had his black-ace to play!
SIXTEEN
A fetid vapour was rising from the corpses that had been killed by Klue. The scene in front of Feyer had a damnation appearance that was similar to the apocalyptic visions envisaged by Hieronymous Bosch.
The woman rose to her feet and her hair was caught by gusts of the spiral winds. She felt that she was in a good place to detonate Plutura 26 B, but her mind was set on Hell for the extinction venue. She went over to the mutilated corpse of Hines and undid the knots that tied the case to her body. Then she started walking with the spirit of those who had become casualties on their road. Her act would be their prayer and as her feet started to eat up the twelve kilometres to Hell, a faint smile edged the creases of her taught mouth.
The woman stared boldly ahead as she climbed higher up the coastal terrain. The beauty of the landscape around her didn’t get registered and her knuckles were white as she tightly held the case to enable European extinction. Feyer didn’t feel anxiety or regret, but instead she felt the strength of a person who increasingly come to realise that they could well be following a predestined path. She saw herself as a kind of messenger appointed by some source higher than her. Of that she was sure and to her death would represent the start of a beautiful adventure. If she was wrong and just a void of blackness lay beyond nothing would exist and thus to Feyer death was a no – lose scenario. She was content to die.
When the highest coastal point was reached, the cliff path started to drop downwards in the direction of the derelict settlement known by an infamous name. The Avoider was just under a kilometre from Hell when a woman’s voice shattered the equilibrium of Feyer’s train of thought.
"Join us Feyer – stay in Hell with Klue and I. I am called Lanz and I adore serving him. Share my devotion and join us."
The speaker was a beautiful black haired woman with feline-green eyes. She had frankly admitted to being in league with the devil from the outset and this factor momentarily surprised Feyer. She had expected that some of Klue’s kind would approach her as she neared Hell but the beautiful woman had been so direct in her role as gatekeeper that for once Feyer had briefly lost the advantage. Those eyes started to mesmerise Feyer and she inwardly fought against being drawn in by Klue’s handmaiden. She spat back a reply.
"What can your kind give me?"
The handmaiden’s eyes burned deeper as she twisted the ebony-handled dagger behind her.
"A clean womb: pleasure, a clean new womb, and children – yes-Feyer children! You can have everything Feyer. You can have as much pleasure as you desire: equal status aside his throne, a clean womb, children to nurture and feed Feyer, a life that gives eyes like mine. Can you feel their power, do you love their lustre – they could be yours my beloved. You would be framed in pleasure – it will be yours for eternity."
Lanz had moved to within a metre of Feyer and her eyes were sinking their poison deep into the Avoider’s soul. In a last desperate attempt to resist the temptations of the handmaiden, Feyer flung herself at Lanz who quickly thrust the blade through Feyer’s bottom ribs. Lanz smiled in satisfaction as blood started to pump from the Avoider! Feyer then stumbled forward and dropped the case to the ground. Lanz saw her advantage and moved toward the case, but this had been Feyer’s bluff-card and she gave the crouching woman one of the most violent back-kicks that she had ever delivered. It was now Lanz’s turn to crumple to the floor. Her blood spattered on the case and the profusion dripped across her broken jaw. Feyer saw that her enemy was out for the count and she crawled to her feet again. She staggered on and crumpled to her knees on a small grass mound – just in front of Hell. Her blood had left an intermittent trail behind her and she started to feel nauseous and dizzy. She willed herself on for the final push, but initially she couldn’t remember the numbers that opened the case! The woman was bleeding to death and becoming increasingly faint – her eyes started to shut! A further gust of the spiral winds blew some of her stomach blood across her face and this served to revive her. In a huge effort to remember the combination she spoke out loud.
"Come on now girl for fuck’s sake remember! One last effort – 608: For the others – 42, for Dean – my lover Dean 777 and for me – Feyer – 91! I’m there, get ready Europe – here I fucking come!"
The woman had correctly triggered the case and the lid sprung open. She set the detonation charge and attempted to stand for the last time. Klue then started to close in on her position but Feyer saw him and yelled out in triumph.
"Too late you satanic bastard. This is it for you – stay a fucking prisoner!"
The wind gusted in the now – familiar corkscrew movement and Feyer’s hand took hold of the detonator. She thought of Blackwell’s smiling face and then she snarled at the devil. The woman punched down on the detonator and smiled. As the device exploded thirty metres above her she ended her life with a triumphant scream - The Scream of Feyer. Europe started to die – she had won.
EPILOGUE
His cold yellow eyes glinted over the maelstrom. He shifted uneasily in his isolation, longing for human souls to torture and move through. He peered across the water, but he knew that no boat would come.
The faintest of smiles started to flicker across his evil face. He could feel the bond between father and sons. He could smell the first born in the womb of the carrier and as he walked along his shoreline, the first dark name entered his mind. The first of his three sons would be called Troth.
By Steve Hammond Kaye
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Visit: www.steve-h-kaye.co.uk
Find Steve Hammond Kaye, Thirty Four Minutes Dead and The Scream of Feyer on facebook.
-----------------------------------------
I started writing Thirty Four Minutes Dead in 1990 and concluded the said novel in 1998. I deliberately chose to write the book in a style that is intricate, expansive and visually aware. I wanted the book to engage with the reader in a similar fashion to film on occasions and thus my plot arteries were often determined by a heightened visual perspective.
On the 25th April 2001 TFMD was available online for the first time with a publishing company based in Milton Keynes, UK.
Two years later, The Scream of Feyer found its way online. This book really is TFMD's ugly sister and is a completely different beast. In fact, if it were a animal and you fed it, it would literally bite your hand off!
I wrote this at a time when my life was pretty wild to say the least, so I suppose a strange duality transpired with The Scream of Feyer being the mutated offspring.
At the moment i'm writing the third book, Coils of The Overkill which will dip-back into the world of TFMD. So really, The Scream of Feyer must be savoured as a rare gem of succinct-sickness.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Ms. H. Cundall
Ms. C. Lanzon
Mr. M. Marcham
Mr. H. Slidell
Mrs. A. M. Kaye
Mrs. A. C. Kaye
Mr. S. Mullins
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Published by
www.publishing.standardcut.co.uk
[email protected]
Publishing for the twenty-first century author.
The Scream of Feyer: hitching a ride with a suicide bomber Page 15