A World Darkly (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 3)

by John Triptych

  Along the sides of the lower deck there were several spinning reels with cables of 100-pound monofilament and piano wire. These cables ended with shark hooks and were trawling the water with pieces of meat on their tips. Two of the reels began to spin rapidly as several hunters grabbed hand hooks after putting on their heavy gloves. One of the men poured some water from a plastic bottle over the reels in order to prevent them from overheating. As the spin on the lines began to slow, one of the bigger men started to reel the lines back in. It was a slow process, as whatever had took the bait was fighting to stay in the water, but with two heavy-duty lines, it would just be a matter of time until they brought it to the surface.

  Tyrone had to tiptoe in order to look past the captain’s shoulder as he tried to see what was happening from the pilot house. He noticed Glanton coming over to the lower deck, along with two other hunters as they got various fishing tools ready for whatever was in the water. Two of the searchlights were now pointed at the side of the ship as they illuminated the brown colored water below.

  After a few tense moments, the water right near the starboard side began to churn as something was being pulled up to the surface. Tyrone’s eyes opened wide in a mixture of excitement and disbelief as a cat-like head surfaced from the water. The head of the creature looked like some sort of panther, roaring with frustration as the hooks embedded in its mouth slowly pulled it up into the deck of the Nimrod. As the steel wires pulled the front part of its cat-like body past the waterline, Tyrone could see that it had webbed front paws, like that of a large seal. The creature was thrashing in the water as it kept trying to force its way back down, but the wires were acting like hangmen’s nooses as it slowly pulled the monster up by its mouth.

  “Shoot the damn thing before you get it on the deck!” Pillinger shouted at the men below.

  One of the men in the lower deck carefully aimed his Winchester Model 70 at the ribcage of the struggling beast and fired from a range of less than five feet. Almost immediately, the creature’s body went limp as it hung by its mouth on the two wires. A loud cheer went up from the crowd that had gathered on both upper and lower decks.

  Pillinger cupped his hands for another shout. “Make sure the damn thing’s dead!”

  One of the men on the lower deck started laughing. “Oh, it’s dead alright! Mac hit it right in its heart. One shot too. Yeehaw!”

  Pillinger shook his head as he turned away from the window and sat back on his captain’s chair once more. “Stupid idiots, a lot of these boys never hunted these things before and they sure are overconfident right now,” he muttered.

  Tyrone had a big grin on his face as he kept looking through the window at what was happening below. Even though he didn’t do much other than steer the boat, the excitement was infectious. “What is that thing they just caught? I never seen anything like it before.”

  Pillinger shrugged. It wasn’t new to him. “Those things are called water panthers. The Indian name for ‘em is mishipeshu, I think. They started appearing along these parts soon after the floods sunk everything out here. Its hide is a pretty good water insulator and it’s gonna fetch a pretty sum when we get back to port.”

  Tyrone shook his head in disbelief. “That’s incredible. And I thought I seen everything.”

  As the men lowered the animal onto the deck, one of the men grabbed the first wire reel to keep it steady while a second man took out a pair of wire cutters. The moment the first line was snapped off, the water panther opened its eyes and in a split-second, sunk its teeth into the throat of the man nearest to it. Everyone on the deck was frozen in shock as the creature tore through the man’s windpipe and the helpless victim fell onto the wooden deck, blood gushing from the fatal wound. The man who had been holding the wire tried to back away, but the water panther was able to bite him in his thigh and wouldn’t let go. As the wounded man screamed for help, the mishipeshu began shaking its head while biting down as it crushed the screaming man’s pelvic bone. Some of the other crewmen were able to react quickly as they aimed their weapons and began firing at the still-living creature. Several dozen rounds of 5.56mm bullets tore into the water panther, but they failed to penetrate the beast’s thick hide. One man fired a shotgun at it, but the water panther just shrugged off the pellets as if they were thrown rocks. Another man took out a Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum revolver from his belt holster and fired it at the skull of the mishipeshu at point blank range. The creature shuddered for a second before slumping back onto the deck once more.

  Pillinger ran out of the wheel house and was halfway down the stairs when they finally took it down. “You goddamn idiots! I told you to make sure it was dead before you got it on the deck!”

  Glanton used his heavy gloves to help pry the dead creature’s jaws from the still screaming man’s thigh. Two more crewmen picked up a foldable stretcher and placed the injured man on it before they turned and headed for the saloon. The other men just stood there, silent with both shame and fear.

  Pillinger made it all the way to the lower deck as he stood over the corpse of the creature as well as its first victim. The wooden floor was now slick with human and monster blood. The captain pointed at the corpse with its throat torn out. “Take a good look at it, you idiots! This is what happens when you get careless. Now I just lost one man and another is down!”

  One of the men stepped forward. He was one of the younger ones, and a recent recruit out of Mobile. His dark brown beard was quite sparse. “Captain, you never told us that these things would be this dangerous.”

  Glanton took a step forward until he was beside the young protester. “Watch your mouth, boy! This is the captain’s ship and out here, he runs things!”

  Pillinger glared at the young crewman. “I told you this was going to be dangerous and you had to be careful! What did you expect to find out here, a couple of crocs and some catfish? I told y’all we were gonna go for some big game hunting!”

  Another man stepped forward. He was an older man, heavily tanned, with graying hair and a balding head underneath his beaten-up baseball cap. “I’m sorry but I’m out, Captain. I ain’t doing no more hunting and fishing. This place is way too damn dangerous. I’m sorry, suh.”

  Pillinger placed his hands on his thick hips. He was desperately trying to control his temper. “We ain’t going back to port until we get more hides piled up on this deck. I got a contract with my backers to get the great horned snake and we ain’t leaving here until we do. You've been given a berth and you’re eating from my larder. This means you gotta do the work if you want to stay onboard. If you ain’t gonna do the work you signed up for, you can dive right into them black waters and swim back to Mobile for all I care. If you’re staying on this ship, you will do that task you’re getting paid for. I will not have any cowards on this here ship.”

  The young protestor was evidently emboldened when the older man sided with him and he threw his rifle down on the blood soaked deck. “I quit. I’ll stay inside the bar, but I ain’t gonna stay out here and be a sitting duck for the monsters that are all around us,” he said softly as he turned around and started to walk towards the saloon.

  Pillinger drew his Redhawk pistol and shot the young man at the back of the head. The top part of the man’s skull was blown clean off and landed in the water. The captain turned around and faced the crowd as he kept his gun on the ready. “Anybody else?”

  Nobody said anything. One of the men turned and began vomiting over the side of the boat. Pillinger looked up at the crowd on the upper deck to see if there was any dissent up there. The men on the above deck above seemed impassive as they continued to stare silently back at him.

  Tyrone’s hands were trembling as he noticed the captain and Glanton talking to each other. He saw two other men coming back out with an empty stretcher from the saloon and took the second dead man off of the deck and out of sight. Three other men began using skinning knives to cut open the carcass of the water panther. As Tyrone wiped the sweat off of his forehead, h
e noticed something in the corner of his eye.

  All the attention and the searchlights were focused on the starboard side, where the crew had caught the water panther. As Tyrone stared at the other side from the port window, he noticed something strange. The tree line at the opposite side of the waterway seemed to be moving. As he squinted his eyes to get a closer look, he realized that the captain had left his binoculars on the table beside the ship’s wheel. Tyrone grabbed at the binoculars and used their magnification to get a closer look. As the details on the other side came into focus, he gasped.

  The branches of the great oak trees in the tree line were teeming with creatures. Tyrone thought they were large owls at first, but as he kept focusing the binoculars for a more detailed look, he realized that they could not have been ordinary animals at all. The creatures were large enough to be the size of men. They had large, owl-like triple beaks with two lower mandibles, and their eyes were burning brightly with a reddish glow. Tyrone wasn’t sure if he could make out any hands but the creatures had large wingspans, like pterodactyls. He couldn’t see the extent of their lower torsos until one of the creatures moved slightly and he noticed it had bear-like lower limbs underneath its thick feathers.

  Pillinger opened the door behind him and stepped inside. “What are you looking at over there?”

  Tyrone was speechless. He handed the binoculars over to him and just pointed to the tree line. His gaping mouth just couldn’t find the words to say anything.

  Pillinger looked through the binoculars for a brief second. His hands trembled as he nearly dropped the field glasses. He pushed Tyrone aside and pressed the fire alarm button. The incessant ringing began almost immediately. “Everybody, look out! We got incoming!”

  The creatures began launching themselves into the air as soon as the alarm sounded. Half of the crew was still on the other side of the ship and they were caught completely by surprise. Several of the owl creatures landed on the upper deck and began to attack everybody close to them. One of the men manning the harpoon cannon tried to swivel it to face the port side, but one of the monsters pounced on top of him and sent him falling down into the water. Another man looked up and his face was instantly engulfed by a massive claw as the creature carried up its struggling victim and they disappeared into the night. Several others grabbed their rifles and began firing into the air, but their panicked shooting didn’t hit anything as the owl monsters swopped down on them and began tearing into their bodies with barbed beaks and six-inch long claws.

  Pillinger locked the rear door of the pilot house as he placed a block of wood in place to bar it. He turned to look at Tyrone. “Pull up the shutters, we’re sitting ducks in here!”

  Tyrone was able to mentally recover his wits as he focused on the task at hand. He opened up the port window and grabbed at the latch just above the top frame. The steel shutters came loose and he pulled them down until the entire window was covered and he locked them in place. Just as he turned to open up the bow window, one of the owl creatures smashed the glass on the pane into a million pieces as it tried to wedge its massive head through. Tyrone fell backwards onto the floor of the cabin as he narrowly avoided the barbed beak trying to take off a huge chunk of his flesh.

  Pillinger drew his revolver and fired. The bullet hit the creature’s eye and it bellowed in screeching pain before withdrawing its head back out into the darkness. Tyrone got up and grabbed onto the base of the shutter before bringing it down and twisted the lock at the bottom of the frame. Pillinger was able to pull down the shutters on the starboard window and was able to get it locked too.

  Another monster landed just behind the door of the wheel house and tried to smash its way through. The wooden bar that jammed the entryway cracked and splintered from the force of the blows and the door started to sag, but it held. Tyrone grabbed his shotgun and fired from his hip. The first shot bore multiple pellet holes in the door. Tyrone pumped another shell into the gun’s chamber and fired again. The second shot went through the glass porthole of the door and hit the creature at the top of its head. The monster made a shrill scream before launching itself into the night.

  The crew members that were able to react in time made it inside of the ship. Glanton’s group was able to run inside the saloon. As the creatures attempted to go through the front doors, they were met by a hail of bullets and shotgun pellets and they had to beat a hasty retreat. One of the men who stood too close to one of the large windows in the main hall had his back ripped open when one of the creatures smashed through the window and tore into him with its beak. The creature tried to pull him through the broken panes but Glanton grabbed the screaming man’s head. Both man and beast engaged in a brutal tug of war, until another man emptied his pistol at the monster and it let its victim go before flying off. Most of the men on the upper deck were able to get inside quickly as they stayed in the corridors, ready to fire at any creature that attempted to go through the narrow confines of the passageways.

  It was the crews that were still out in the open decks who suffered the most casualties. At least three men who were manning the searchlights were instantly attacked from above as the creatures pounced on them. One man had his chest ripped open as his monstrous assailant used its powerful beak to rapidly slice through his ribcage to get at his still beating heart and rip it out. Another man had his skull crushed as one of the monsters used both its rear claws like a battering ram as it drove its victim headfirst onto the floorboards, its impact was so forceful, it cracked the wooden deck. The third man simply had his head torn off by another owl creature as it swooped by without even stopping. The fourth man who was manning another searchlight saw it all happen, just as he narrowly avoided another monster flying towards him by jumping from the upper deck and into the water. As he tried to swim towards the other side of the boat, something beneath the water caught his foot and he was pulled under, leaving a small trail of bubbles and froth in his wake.

  The steel shutter on the port side window of the pilot house began to bulge inwards as one of the owl creatures tried to tear into it. Tyrone was trying to reload his Remington shotgun, but his trembling hands kept fumbling the shells and he couldn’t get it into the loading slot. Pillinger waited until the lower part of the shutter gave way. The moment he saw the beak tearing its way through, he pointed his Redhawk just inches away and fired. The noise was deafening as the only thing Tyrone could hear was an incessant ringing that blocked out everything else. The creature instantly pulled back its large head and left the broken shutters just hanging there.

  Tyrone’s ears were starting to hurt as he finally got a shell into the loading port of the shotgun. He followed it up with another. Then he tried a third time but the slot was stuck. It was most probably full. Pillinger just kept his eye on the broken part of the window, his revolver at the ready.

  Almost as soon as it started, the battle stopped. The sounds of gunfire and screaming gradually died down again. All that could be heard now was the monotonous sound of the diesel pistons powering the paddlewheels of the ship. Most of the men were dazed and silent, while a few of the wounded let out groans of pain. This time, nobody cheered.

  As Tyrone’s hearing started to come back, he looked at his watch and blinked several times in surprise. From start to finish, the whole battle lasted less than six minutes.

  20. The Omega Fellowship

  New Mexico

  The small convoy of two dark painted sport utility vehicles finally stopped near the base of Cerro Pelon. It was late afternoon and the drive had been a long one. They had started the journey from the southern edges of Missouri, then skirted near the southern border of Kansas as they passed through northern Oklahoma before finally making it into New Mexico. Law and order had pretty much broken down in this part of the country and many of them were heavily armed. They had passed through a number of military checkpoints and were warned that they would be entering dangerous territory, but at least one person in the group felt the risk was worth it, and since h
e was the one in charge, they continued on. The whole trip had lasted two days and barely anyone had slept.

  Ethan Quinn opened the rear door of the dark blue Chevrolet Suburban and stepped down onto the sandy ground. He let out a small groan as he stood on tip toes and stretched his back. It had been a long journey and he was sore and exhausted, but the real work was about to begin. The son of an A-list Hollywood actor and a supermodel mother, Ethan was born privileged and he could have easily gotten into showbiz with his good looks and natural athleticism. Instead, he spurned the trappings of fame and preferred an academic life of research. Even though he had an independent spirit, he still used his family’s money and influence to get into Harvard as he worked on his Master’s degree in anthropology. Ethan had been working on a number of archaeological digs in the southwest when the Glooming began. He spent the next few months trying to find his parents during the evacuation of Los Angeles. It took awhile for the government to track him down and to convince him that he was needed.

  FBI Special Agent Lawrence Johnson stepped out from the SUV’s front seat and looked around. He was dressed in khakis and carried an AR-15 rifle. “Where are we?”

  Ethan looked up at the mountain as he adjusted his sunglasses. The sun would be setting soon and it would get cold in a hurry. “That mountain there is called Cerro Pelon. We’re about fifteen miles west of Wagon Mound.”

  Johnson shook his head as he checked his rifle. “I’ve never been to this part of the country.”

  Ethan grinned as he walked over beside him. “I’ve always liked the desert, not a lot of people around and it’s very, very quiet. Working out here in the dig sites, doing research on the Pueblo Indian settlements, those times gave me a great sense of peace and well being.”

  Three more FBI agents exited the second SUV behind them. Two men and a woman. Like Johnson, they all wore dark sunglasses, khaki hunting clothes and were carrying guns. At first glance, an untrained eye would have mistaken them for a hunting party, but their semi-automatic rifles and military body armor were clearly not meant for shooting animals. They spread out in a small perimeter near the cars as they wanted to make sure that there weren’t any threats around.