The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1)

by John Triptych

  Gyle thanked him and walked towards his Humvee, shaking his head. Matt was already in the driver’s seat. The windshield was caked with dust and there wasn’t any time or sufficient water to clean it. The upholstery smelled of sweat and there was assorted gear strewn around at the back. But Gyle was thankful they had a vehicle to themselves, he hated it every time he had to travel with a fully loaded Humvee. He could see the other soldiers getting into their vehicles; Bravo Company needed to move now if they were going to hit the outskirts of Mosul by the start time of the offensive.

  Matt started up the engine. “What was that convo you were having back there?”

  Gyle just shrugged as he put his helmet on. “One of the sergeants just told me he saw a giant buffalo with wings last night when we passed by Al-Shirqat.”

  Matt started laughing. “Holy fuck. Do you think the NCOs in this unit are on drugs or what?”

  “Well, it’s either that or the Apocalypse has already started.”

  The lone highway to the city of Mosul was pretty much deserted. They hadn’t seen any civilians either on the road or on foot. The one time Gyle did see anyone was when they started their breakthrough two days before. A gaggle of refugees running south from the front lines turned into a full scale exodus. Since Matt spoke the language, he had interrogated a number of them, but nobody could give any specifics other than hysterical whispers about something terrible happening in Mosul. There were no more living souls within the city. The few IS combatants they had been able to capture told them the same thing—their leaders had disappeared and that any group that attempted to go north into the city were never heard from again. Matt had wanted to stay and question the refugees further, but the orders had come directly from the embassy in Baghdad to join in with Bravo Company for the push up north. Their mission was to report on the ground once Mosul had been recaptured.

  As the convoy started towards the city in a single line, Matt drove the Humvee so it was just behind the lead vehicle. Just ahead of them was an MRAP, otherwise known as a Mine Resistant Ambush Protected armored vehicle driven by Sergeant Morris. So far, the only mines or booby traps they had encountered happened right when they broke through the IS front lines just north of Baiji, where there was an improvised explosive device at the side of the road just after the abandoned IS checkpoint. The mine blew up the lead MRAP, but thankfully nobody was seriously hurt. Captain Kelly quickly got a replacement vehicle and kept his unit going.

  The only illumination now came from the vehicle headlights of the convoy as night had finally descended. For an hour, the MRAPs and Humvees kept the pace as visibility started to get worse. Gyle was reminded of his training in night diving when he was still with Force Recon, the utter blackness of the deep ocean around you with the only thing you could see was wherever your flashlight pointed at. As they kept advancing, the convoy was now immersed in a swirling dust of sand.

  Sergeant Morris’s voice on the radio cut through the silence as the lead vehicle slowed down. “Visibility down to just a few feet. Can’t see for shit now.”

  “Continue your advance, just take it slow,” Captain Kelly answered on the radio. “Any contact?”

  “No contact, sir. Nothing. Not a goddamned thing. Not even any animals,” Morris said through the radio as the static interference began to build.

  Gyle turned to Matt. “Are we still in contact with the embassy?”

  “Let me check,” Matt said as he flipped the switch on the backpack radio beside him. He tried to call in, but all he got was static. “Negative.”

  Gyle activated the vehicle radio to talk to the convoy. “Captain, we lost contact with the embassy, are you still in touch with division HQ?”

  There as a lot of static in the reply. “G … can … bare … hear … we … push … on….”

  “Goddamn it,” Gyle said as he turned to look at Matt once again. “Do we still have GPS coordinates?”

  Matt was pushing the button on the console near the dashboard. “No, I’ve been sending out the signal for the past half hour, but as soon as we entered the sandstorm … nothing’s come back.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Yes, it’s working, I’m still able to turn it on.”

  At that moment, a loud thump on the passenger side window startled both men. Gyle pulled out his pistol and turned to his right, but was instantly relieved to see Lieutenant Zwelinski outside banging on the window with his palm.

  As Gyle rolled down the window, he noticed the pace of the convoy had slowed to a crawl. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re gonna stop, CO’s orders!” Zwelinski shouted to him as he ran forward to try and get the lead vehicle’s attention. The lieutenant succeeded and the whole convoy was now stopped. Gyle got out of his vehicle after putting on his goggles and wrapping a bandana over his nose and mouth. The sand storm was unexpectedly mild as only a fine curtain of particles hung in the air. In fact, it seemed to be more like a fog than a massive dust devil, but visibility was still only a few feet. As Gyle turned to his right, he could only see the faint white headlights of the vehicles behind him.

  “Wait here, I’m gonna talk to the captain,” Gyle said to Matt as he turned and started running down the convoy line. As he passed about a half dozen vehicles, he noticed the captain’s MRAP with its extra antenna and he ran over to the side passenger door.

  Captain Kelly noticed him, opened the door and got out. “I’m ordering Bravo Company to hold here. We have no visibility and we’ve lost communications with Division HQ. If we encounter anything ahead of us, we can’t call in any air support. We’ve got to wait until this storm clears or we regain communications. I’m not risking my men till I know what’s out there.”

  Gyle thought about it for a minute. “Understood, Captain. Matt and I will be going ahead. My orders are to find out what the situation in the city is.”

  “Are you sure about that? If you go too far ahead, we may not be able to offer you support. You’ll be on your own.”

  “Understood, but so far we’ve encountered no resistance whatsoever. If anything goes wrong, we’ll try to make it back here.”

  “Well, you’re not part of my command so there’s not much I can do to stop you. I’m ordering my men to set up a perimeter around this convoy. If you find yourself in any kind of trouble, try and make your way back here.”

  “Roger that,” Gyle said and then he turned and started running back to his vehicle.

  As he got back in the Humvee’s front seat, he noticed Matt was still trying to get the GPS locator to work. “Damned thing just isn’t getting a signal back,” he said.

  Gyle grabbed his carbine from the backseat and placed it on his lap as he pulled the bandana down to his neck. “Bravo Company is holding up here and setting up a perimeter. I told Captain Kelly that we’re going ahead.”

  Matt looked at him. “Are you sure about this?”

  Gyle looked at his watch. “We’ve been on the highway for almost three hours now. We should be close to the outskirts of the city. Since we encountered no resistance, I don’t think we’re in any danger.”

  “Famous last words, but the Lord hates a coward,” Matt said as he twisted the steering wheel and stepped on the accelerator so that the Humvee started to bypass the lead MRAP. Zwelinski saw what was happening and looked confused. Gyle waved goodbye to him as the Humvee got ahead of the convoy and continued on slowly past it. Within minutes, the vehicle was surrounded by a cloudy darkness, with only the first few feet ahead of it illuminated by the light truck’s headlights as they continued on the deserted highway. It felt like they were in a misty dream.

  Both men kept quiet as the vehicle drove on. Within half an hour, they came upon on what seemed to be a few dozen stationary cars facing south. The vehicles were all partially covered with sand. Matt didn’t notice any movement as he stopped the Humvee in front of them.

  Gyle checked to see if there was a chambered round in his carbine. There was. He put his bandana and goggles back o
n and then pulled out a flashlight. “Stay here, I’m going to check it out.”

  Matt grabbed his own rifle from the backseat and chambered a round. “You want me to get on the turret?” The top of their vehicle had a ball turret with an MK-19 grenade launcher mounted on it.

  “No, stay on the wheel. If things get hairy, give me some time to run back in the car, okay?”

  “Wilco.”

  Gyle got out of the Humvee and started walking slowly to the line of cars ahead of him. Even though his vehicle had its headlights on full power right behind him, he could only see the faint outlines of the other cars. The lead car looked like a light truck with an improvised recoilless rifle mounted at the back. As Gyle looked inside, he noticed two corpses on the driver and front seats. The bodies had no clothes on and looked mummified, drained of all body fluids with their mouths open in silent agony, it looked like they were flash burned alive. As he went to the second vehicle, he saw it was a minivan packed with corpses that looked just like the ones in the previous car. Examining the vehicle more closely, he noticed that whatever burned the occupants miraculously hadn’t affected the cars themselves, other than the dust that caked the van. Looking down at the wheels, Gyle noticed that all the tires had no rubber on them. Shining his flashlight further down the road, he could see at least a dozen fainter outlines of cars ahead, with no end in sight. It looked like this convoy was on its way south from the city, as if they were all fleeing from something.

  As he turned to face the Humvee and started walking back to it, Gyle saw hazy flashes of lights and heard the sound of gunfire and explosions towards the south of the road. Quickly breaking into a run, he realized the light show and the noise must have been coming from Bravo Company’s perimeter. They were under attack.

  “Go, go, go!” Gyle said as he got in and slammed the door shut.

  Matt heard the sounds too as he quickly made a U-turn and started to accelerate southwards before slowing down again due to the minimal visibility ahead. “I’m sorry, I can’t go any faster. I’m afraid we might collide with another vehicle if I go faster than this.”

  Gyle said nothing as he merely nodded and then climbed in the back of the vehicle, stood up, and opened the turret hatch. The automatic grenade launcher was caked with sand as he wiped some of it off the barrel, then he racked the massive bolts on both sides to ready it for firing. Gyle pulled at the lever near the turret ring to rotate it. Although it traversed slowly because of the fine sand seeping into its ball bearings, the turret could still rotate a full circle. Gyle adjusted the sights as the sounds of fighting got closer.

  Within a few minutes, they had arrived to the edge of the security perimeter.

  It looked like a scene from Hell. Gyle could see that the desert plains at the sides of the highway were glowing with some sort of illumination, it was as if the sand of the surrounding desert was on fire. He could see a smashed MRAP, it was as if some giant hand of God had grabbed it and tossed it on its side by the road. A few soldiers were outside of their burning vehicles and shooting wildly in all directions, their faces contorted in fear and hysterics.

  As he traversed the turret to the right flank, Gyle noticed some sort of movement at a nearby sand dune. He quickly zeroed in on the sights of the grenade launcher and was ready to fire when his target finally came into view.

  For the first time in his life, Gyle finally saw what it was they were fighting against.

  He screamed in terror even as he pushed the trigger.

  2. Strength of Stones

  England

  “And as Joseph Campbell said, ‘Tear off the mask of God and you will find man.’ The myths we dismiss as fiction these days had very profound meanings in ancient times and still shape our lives even today. There is substantial evidence there may have been indeed a Trojan War and it wasn’t just an invention by Homer to amuse the Greek youngsters. He may have, in fact, been retelling an age-old oral tradition, and while he may have embellished a few things here and there, much of these oral myths have a basis in historical fact. Even the myth of the Gorgon, you know the hideous woman whose face could turn people into stone, may have been in fact, a proto-Greek matriarchal religious cult that was conquered by the Mycenaean tribes and then later was incorporated into their own myths and legends. Don’t believe me? The Gorgon aspect of the hideous face with bulging eyes, fanged teeth, and outstretched tongue has been recorded in other cultures of the world. It is a universal symbol of fear and dread to the point where some cultures used that power as a form of protection rather than intimidation….”

  Dr. Paul Dane, Professor of Anthropology and world renowned mythologist, was in the middle of his lecture as a special guest of the University College of London’s Institute of Archeology at their main auditorium. There was much publicity about Professor Dane’s latest speaking tour across Europe for the past several weeks, and this was his final stop before heading back to Harvard, where he was an emeritus of their Anthropology Department. In academic circles Paul was treated as a sort of celebrity, he had appeared in numerous TV shows and documentaries and was hailed as the successor to the late, great Joseph Campbell. The audience was composed of not just students, but fellow academics, media people, and even some celebrities who wanted to bask in Paul’s popularity and charisma.

  There were several reasons for Paul’s popularity with the masses. As a writer, he had runaway successes with several bestsellers in both the New Age and self help sections in bookstores. His brand of blending in ancient myths with pertinent advice for today’s world drew a following among people who were disillusioned with their traditional religious values, and those seeking a new meaning in spirituality by going back to ancient folklore and legends. With his salt-and-pepper-colored beard, steel-rimmed glasses, and eloquent speaking voice, Paul was a constant fixture on cable TV and internet documentaries on just about anything that had to do with ancient history.

  “There were depictions of Gorgons in the Minoan palaces at Knossos. Even the Humbaba, a mythical monster that was described in the Sumerian epic of Gilgamesh was said to have such a hideous face, its gaze would kill anyone who dared to look at it. The Gorgon myth may be very well related to the evil eye, the superstition that if one looks at another in a malevolent manner, it would then bestow a curse upon its victim. An evil stare was considered to be so powerful that many cultures all across the world have their own variations of charms and spells to protect themselves from it. Even animals that stare back at human beings, like cats, owls, and goats, were considered to be cursed beasts, or familiars to witches and sorcerers and sadly many of these poor creatures were killed because of it. These myths can be found in practically every human culture all over the world….”

  Paul Dane made a short pause. It usually happened during these times, when he was right in the middle of a lecture, in front of an audience and the heat of the spotlight was on him, was when he thought of Elizabeth, his wife of thirty-three years. They first met when they were undergraduate students in Harvard. They both liked the same things: ancient history, the study of dead languages, and a fondness for pistachio ice cream. The first time he laid eyes on her was right after their anthropology class when they ran into each other in the library. Both had attempted to grab the same book and when their eyes met, it was nothing but bliss. Although they had similar tastes, he was the more “laid-back,” “down to earth” kind of guy and she was the passionate romantic, their debates about the origins of the Sea Peoples had kept them awake for weeks at a time, and they both wrote completely opposite theses on it for their postgraduate studies. Paul was given tenure first and Elizabeth, not to be outdone, went over to get her tenure at MIT after what she believed was an unfair decision by the Harvard faculty in choosing Paul over her. Ultimately, they patched things up and got married, but she never forgave him for it. Every time they disagreed (which wasn’t often), she would bring up the point she was passed over because she was a woman. Paul would have none of it even though he knew it was all i
n jest. Although they never had any children, they soon became renowned experts in folklore and mythology because they would frequently contradict each other in public, even though they remained deeply in love in private. All that time, they taught and lectured, traveled the world, and enriched their experiences to further hone their talents. It was only in their thirty-second year of marriage when tragedy finally struck: Elizabeth had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. She bravely fought on, but the sickness had spread and she died within the year. Grief-stricken, Paul quit the faculty and remained in seclusion for a number of years before turning out his latest bestseller, The Myths in All of Us, which rocketed to the top of the bestseller lists for months. Although he felt like he was only half a man now, Paul dedicated his life back to his work, in memory of his wife. As he had paused but a few short seconds ago, Paul feigned a cough and sipped on a glass of water before continuing once again.

  “In conclusion, I must say that everyone has a myth to tell. Everyone has a myth to experience. Why should we put any importance to these old legends at all? Because these myths are what keep us grounded in this world, without these age-old stories, our very existence would be relegated to acquiring nothing but material possessions. It also proves that myths are universal and it shows that there are more similarities to all cultures and ethnicities than there are differences. Myths provide meaning to both our history, and to our future. Thank you.”

  With that, the audience rose up and applauded loudly. Some whoops and cheers were shouted out and there was even a short chant, but Paul would have none of it as he cheerfully waved them away and just smiled before walking down the stage.

  A small crowd of well-wishers, fans, and friends gathered in front of him as most of the audience began to file out. Megan Abramson, his graduate assistant, introduced two students from the university with copies of his latest book.