Infernal: Emergence

by Ricky Fleet

  Pain. Such awful pain. Malachi found himself bound with his head bowed to the floor. The flaring sensation came from the bonds which held his arms and legs firmly in place against the upright post. Flexing the numb fingers and toes as much as the constraints allowed, blood started to flow and some small sensation returned. Opening his eyes, the ground was a mix of sand and small scrubby weeds. The purple leaves were wide stemmed and fluttered in the gentle breeze. It was unlike any plant he had ever seen.

  “Ah, they awaken,” came a deep cackle in a foreign language that for some unfathomable reason, Malachi could understand.

  How long he had been unconscious was a mystery. A spasm in the contours of his spine from the slumped position and the pounding headache from the knockout blow would indicate a couple of hours at least. Looking up, the scene was totally surreal and confusion clouded his thoughts. The sky was totally cloudless and despite the hour being late, the darkness of night hadn’t gained ascendency. Two moons lay overhead, one huge and close in orbit, the other more distant but the brighter of the pair. Backlit against the purple hued sky were huge moth type insects, glowing from their bodies like fireflies but the size of eagles. The strobing of their abdomens was a mating call, but how the hell did he know that?

  “Focus his mind,” came the familiar voice followed by a streak of white hot pain as a blade was drawn across his chest.

  The shock of the cut broke the trance and Malachi looked around at the scene in panic.

  “That’s better,” said the voice with satisfaction.

  Mountains rose in the distance, mighty monoliths of rock from fractious shifting tectonic plates in the earth. The wailing forms of children were set against the majestic beauty, trussed and laid on a neatly stacked pile of strange timber which could only have one use. The sputtering torches of the villages attackers circled the unlit pyre and for the first time Malachi felt the gut wrenching terror within his heart.

  “Thiassel!” Malachi cried in a voice not his own.

  “Father!” came the sobbing reply.

  “Let us go,” someone demanded, “We are a peaceful people.”

  Glancing left and right, around twenty people were similarly bound to heavy wooden stakes, and all faced the spectacle in the village square. With a blood curdling realization, Malachi realized it was probably to ensure a captive audience for what was coming.

  “You are indeed a fine and upstanding people who harbor no animosity toward other tribes,” agreed the voice who Malachi still couldn’t see, “And that is why you have been chosen.”

  Tribes? What was all this about wondered Malachi again. His shifting perspective from himself to the father of one of the captured children made his head swim. The poorly lit homes were basically stacked stones with a canvas of branches and leaves for roofs. His own attire was animal pelt and a rough, hessian type fabric that itched something fierce with the compression of the ropes. Their conquerors were clad in burnished jade armor, a metal which glimmered in the reflected firelight. The contradiction in technology was stark, with typical Neolithic features contrasting with the skilled metal working of the aggressors. Curved green swords hung from scabbards at the waist, so the metal was obviously resilient enough to face battle.

  “We have never made war with you. Why have your Elders deemed us enemies?” asked a woman, never breaking eye contact with her infant son.

  The source of the voice stepped into the meagre light and instead of the plated armor, he was adorned in a splendid cloak of gold trimmed black. His clothes were likewise dark in color and made of a much finer material than the villagers. Atop his head was a crown fashioned from four small, fire scorched skulls, bound together with twine and looking north, south, east and west with jaws gaping in silent screams.

  “Compassion is your weakness. If you had been warriors, we could have used you. Your only purpose now is to become sacrifices for the empire.”

  The other captors started to shriek and wail, but firm hands appeared from hidden enemies behind and silenced the protests.

  “Kay lowic morgel bar zoln diavol!” he cried into the night, arms held wide.

  As one, the light from the gigantic bugs winked out and their wings could be heard carrying them away from the vicinity of the chanting. An oppressive pall fell over the area, as if the pressure was building from some unseen force making it difficult to draw breath.

  “Thalon mer serlas pox quaan!”

  The last word was drawn out in a sigh and the night darkened, as if the twin moons were losing their power to penetrate the thickening atmosphere. A light appeared at the feet of the man, small at first then growing in size until it was roughly two feet in diameter. The soil fell inward towards the pulsing illumination which alternated between red, yellow, and orange. Like a heatless fire the glow increased in intensity but didn’t cause any discomfort to the swaying figure. A black tendril rose into the night from the pit, as thick as a snake it seemed to look around without eyes. An amorphous blob followed and the mass flowed together like sentient liquid.

  “We have been answered,” smiled the summoner as the vile creation started to climb his legs, small coils sprouting from the mass to gain purchase on the clothing.

  When it reached his head the blob took on a shape of a face, humanoid in size but with features of nightmare. Many eyed and fangs of black, the visage studied the man and then smiled in a rictus of horror. The flowing mass melted once more and surged into the open mouth and throat of the willing host.

  “What is happening?” someone screamed as the man started to gurgle and vibrate.

  Almost as soon as it looked like he would die from the welcomed violation, his eyelids opened and the liquid churned within the sockets. He smiled and within, another, darker mouth smiled too. The other soldiers didn’t make any sign of surprise or discomfort, this event was not new to them, nor was the subsequent order.

  “Burn them!” croaked the man in a voice that was no longer his own.

  Without complaint, the blazing torches were held to the piled brush and children. The fire took hold and climbed through the carefully slatted branches toward the tender flesh of the innocents atop the pyre. As the heat reached the poor infants, their screams of fear turned to shrieks of agony. Skin blistering and charring from the lapping flames, the trussed parents could only strain at their bonds and scream their emotional rending. The noise of the children died away as they perished and only the roar of the cleansing fire could be heard, wood popping and crackling with the heat.

  “Your hearts are now ready,” said the inhuman voice, “Your hatred sustains me.”

  He went to the female who was tied next to Malachi, and without any apparent sexual interest, pulled her clothing apart, exposing the pendulous breasts. Ignoring the swaying bosom, the figure started to press against the breastbone and ribs with his fingers, tracing a line from neck to abdomen.

  “My Lord,” said a soldier, kneeling at his feet in deference and holding out a serrated blade.

  Taking the knife, the handle was crafted of polished bone and the bulbous knuckle provided the pommel. Heedless of her spitting and vehement cursing, he drove the knife deeply below the ribcage and started sawing upwards. Blood flowed in torrents as the sound of grinding bone echoed around the village. The poor woman was barely alive by the time he had finished and every other villager observed in abject terror.

  “What are you?” Malachi managed to ask the being, who looked sideways and only smiled coldly.

  Returning the soaked knife to the waiting soldier, the creature delved in with both hands and displaying a strength not of this world, he pulled the ribcage apart to expose the steaming organs. People were vomiting as viscera started to spill out, but Malachi was mesmerized by the ghastly scene. Reaching inside the cavity with a reverence that was as terrifying as the previous frenzied activity, he clasped the feebly beating heart in hand. With a single yank, the organ was ripped loose in a spray of blood and torn arteries. Opening his jaws impossibly wide,
the mouth within a mouth sprung forth and closed over the offering. More crimson soaked down the expensive tunic as the ravening creature withdrew and started to eat.

  “Please, no,” begged Malachi in a whisper.

  The figure had taken the knife again and stepped in front of him. Black eyes stared, and the gaping maw expelled air which smelled of sulfur and decomposition. Fingers kneading the ridges of his chest, Malachi screamed as the knife was driven toward his tender belly.

  The sudden light of the bedroom made his eyes hurt and he blinkered them while he tried to regain his composure. The feeling of the knife was still with him and he gingerly felt his flat tummy for injury. The hand came back free of blood and he sighed with relief until he saw who else was in the room. Jack was sat bolt upright and, with one of the young girls on night duty, was trying to press himself back further into the corner of the room. The small eyes were terrified, but so too were the older eyes of the carer.

  “Damn, that sounded like one hell of a nightmare,” Kevin commiserated.

  “It wasn’t just that,” Malachi whispered, “The night girl quit the very next day and Jack was moved to a different home. I got to move into a single room on my own.”

  “So? Sounds like a great deal to me,” Kevin laughed, but stopped when he saw the haunted look in Malachi’s eyes.

  “I overheard a few weeks later that when the girl came in the room to check why Jack was calling out, I was talking in that strange language. She said my arms were raised as I was speaking and the light turned itself off. Even worse, they said they felt the same weird feeling of suffocation, as if the air was getting thicker like a soup.” Malachi was visibly shaking with recollection of the memory.

  “So it carried over from your dream into the real world?” Kevin asked with wide eyes.

  “I don’t know what the words were, but they had a power I can’t describe.”

  “Holy shit,” Kevin whispered, drink poised by his lips but frozen in shock.

  “I don’t think holy had anything to do with it,” Malachi replied with a shudder.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A burst of drunken laughter interrupted their conversation and they looked around the booth to see three men play fighting around the pool table. Over a dozen empty beer bottles lined the wall around it and they were getting louder in direct correlation to the amount of alcohol consumed.

  “Hey!” Desmond called out, “Calm it down or you are out!”

  “Sorry,” laughed one while the other two just scowled.

  “I think we might have to help Des with taking out the trash later,” Kevin remarked, staring at one of the trio who was returning the glare.

  “Leave it, mate,” Malachi said, pulling him back into the booth, “You were supposed to be making me feel better, not get me into a fight.”

  “My bad,” Kevin replied, clenching and unclenching his fist.

  “Hey!”

  Kevin had started to lean sideways to get a look at the guy again, but smiled and sat back down, “Sorry. Where were we?”

  “I scared the shit out of two people,” Malachi reminded him.

  “Yeah, I remember now. Was there no other explanation for the light, maybe an electrical short circuit?”

  “They had an electrician in and he gave it a clean bill of health, every reading was as it should be.”

  “Hmm,” Kevin pondered, “The chanting isn’t that special, everyone talks in their sleep.”

  “That’s what they told me the first time,” Malachi said cryptically.

  “There were more occasions?” Kevin was dumbstruck.

  “Hundreds,” he admitted.

  “Jesus Christ, no wonder you are frazzled. How often do you have these dreams?”

  “These days it is pretty much every night.”

  Kevin slapped the table as he was struck by an epiphany, “That’s why you always ignore women and my attempts to set you up with Laura’s friends.”

  “The secret is out.” Malachi held his hands up in surrender.

  “Have you ever thought that being alone may not be helping? Just having Laura and Joey around can make my worst day so much brighter.”

  “It’s not that simple…” Malachi tried to think of a way of explaining that wouldn’t disgust his friend. There wasn’t one. “Sometimes I wake up and I have wet myself, or worse. It’s like I go through the same bodily reactions as the victims in my dreams.”

  “Fuck…” was all Kevin could add, shaking his head.

  “See? I need to get my mind sorted before I can even consider romance.”

  The entrance door opened and a redhead walked in a few paces, looking around with confusion.

  “What can I get you, sweetheart?” Desmond asked, smiling warmly.

  Her face was flawless, with sultry, cupid bow lips and emerald green eyes. There was Irish blood flowing through her veins, Malachi was certain.

  “My friend was meant to meet me here I think. This is the Paradise Bar, isn’t it?” she inquired.

  “The one and only,” Desmond held his arms wide, “Let me get you a drink and you can wait for her to arrive.”

  “Ok, that would be nice. I’ll have a vodka and Coke, please.”

  “Coming right up,” Desmond replied and twirled away, grabbing a glass.

  Noticing she was the only female in the bar, her cheeks flushed and she pretended to study her phone. The three drunks had all stopped messing around and watched her silently, like a pack of wolves ready to pounce. Neither Kevin or Malachi liked the leers they threw her way and when it became clear the two smiling guys in the booth were less of a threat, she took the drink and seated herself down behind them.

  “Wow,” Kevin whispered.

  “I am telling Laura,” Malachi joked.

  “Hey, a man can window shop,” Kevin grinned, “Doesn’t mean he is buying the goods.”

  “Always the gentleman,” he laughed.

  Kevin’s phone started to ring on the table and the name Laura coupled with her smiling face flashed on the screen.

  “Hi, babe,” Kevin said, face going through changes from smiling to concerned. “Is he ok?”

  “Everything ok?” Malachi whispered and Kevin shook his head.

  “Thank God,” he slumped back with relief, “How the hell did he get over the top of his cot?”

  More faint chatter issued from the handset that Malachi couldn’t quite make out.

  “Little bugger,” Kevin grinned, “Yeah I’m just finishing with Mal and then I’ll be straight home. Ok, love you too.” He hung up.

  “What happened?” Malachi asked, although he had a good idea.

  “Joey fell out of his cot.”

  “Damn, is he alright?” Malachi asked.

  “Yeah he bounced. I thought we had a few more weeks, but the little monkey is standing and pulling himself over the bars already.” Kevin shook his head in bewilderment. Parenthood was a tough gig.

  “It’s Laura’s cooking, he is trying to escape before he has to eat it.”

  Kevin laughed, lifted the phone up and started to redial Laura. “I’ll let you tell her personally.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare!” Malachi frantically tried to press the cancel button as Kevin moved it around to thwart him.

  The phone rang and Laura answered. “Only me, babes. Malachi wanted to say something quickly.”

  Passing the phone over, Malachi was giving him the finger which only brought more laughter, “Hey, Laura, I just wanted to check he was ok, that’s all.”

  “Hiya, Mal. Yeah he’s fine now. I heard the thump and then the scream and I thought he had really hurt himself. A cuddle and a suck on my nipple and he was right as rain, just like my husband,” Laura chuckled. She had a wicked sense of humour just like Kevin and Malachi adored them both.

  “Ok, well make sure you let me know if you need anything.”

  “Will do, take care, Mal.”

  “You fucker!” Malachi threw the phone across the table and Kevin was nearly cryi
ng with laughter.

  “And you say I’m whipped,” he said, mimicking the cracking sound.

  “You best get going, mate.”

  “Nah, he is a tough little blighter. I need to make sure you are fine before I go,” Kevin declared.

  “Honestly, you can get off. I feel a whole lot better than I did this morning and if you don’t mind, we could do this again later in the week?” Malachi asked.

  “Are you sure?” Kevin replied and Malachi nodded. “That sounds good to me. I’m really glad you started to open up about all the shit you’ve been through.”

  “Of course. I need to stop off and get some fish and chips for Miss Cortez anyway. She’s my date tonight.”

  “She’s a tough old girl, say hi for me.”

  “Will do. Love you, buddy,” Malachi stood and embraced his friend who held him tight in support.

  “Love you, brother.”

  Kevin said a quick farewell to Desmond and was gone into the night. Leaning back, the weight had been lifted a little by the bearing of his soul and Malachi smiled. The dreams were an obstacle that would need to be overcome, and Kevin probably lacked the skill to successfully psychoanalyse the hidden meanings. That he had a friend like him, who had stuck by his side loyally through all the craziness, made Malachi supremely grateful. The night didn’t hold quite as much fear as it had an hour ago.

  “Alright gorgeous, want some company?” slurred one of the men who was barely able to stand through inebriation.

  “No, thank you. I’m waiting for a friend,” she answered with a nervous smile.

  “I can entertain you until she arrives,” he laughed and started to dance, slowly and with much staggering.

  “No, I think I would rather be alone. But thank you for the offer.”

  The man stood in silence, staring down at the woman with glazed eyes. Malachi was watching out of the corner of his eye and his teeth were clenched as the familiar rush of adrenaline kicked in. He wasn’t a fighter by nature and only retaliated if provoked, but the trouble was brewing and his stomach knotted in apprehension of the possible conflict.