“You’re saying that the enemy are a bunch of mythical beasts?” Boland said. “A shedu?”
Gyle covered his face with his left hand and sighed with exhaustion. “We tried to fight them, but we couldn’t. Our weapons were useless. Matt was crushed in the Humvee—they just stomped on it like it was made of cardboard.”
Boland looked away. He wasn’t sure if he could believe it. “What about the unit you were attached to?”
Gyle just stared down at the floor and shook his head. “All dead.”
“How did you get out?” Major Rawls said.
“I just jumped out of the Humvee when it was attacked,” Gyle said. “I played dead until I could see the morning light. Their screams, the screams of those boys, I can still hear them every time I close my eyes. All I had was my compass and I made my way south. Every time I felt they were near, I hid in the sand.”
“These things, these monsters,” Boland said. “Did they come from Mosul? Did it all start from there?”
“I don’t know. They came with the dust storm. Everything that has dust is death,” Gyle said softly.
“Who’s controlling these creatures?” Major Rawls said. “Is it Daesh?”
Gyle looked at him with pity in his eyes. “Don’t you get it yet? Their god doesn’t exist. The Muslims, the IS- everyone in this entire country paid for that mistake with their lives.”
Major Rawls was getting angry. “I’m your superior officer, son. You don’t talk that way to me.”
Boland turned to Major Rawls. “He’s not yours to order around, Major. He’s CIA and unattached to the military.”
Major Rawls stood up. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” With that, he got to the door, opened it and left.
Boland crouched down, closer to Gyle. “What can we do? How can we defeat them?”
Gyle just shrugged. “You can’t fight gods. And you can’t fight their angels.”
The commotion in the other room got louder. People were shouting and Boland could hear the howling wind outside of the bunker picking up. He quickly got to the door and opened it just as an Army medic was about to knock on it. Boland let her through while observing the communications room. The medic instantly began to look at Gyle’s injuries as she placed her medical bag on the table. Boland just stood in the doorway and listened to the comms chatter.
“We’ve lost contact with Alpha Company at the southern perimeter of the Green Zone, sir,” a radio operator who was manning one of the radios said to General Sunderland.
General Sunderland frowned. “What was their last transmission?”
“All their CO said was that the dust storm was picking up all around them with possible enemy contact in the heart of the storm, sir.”
General Sunderland pounded his fist on a nearby table. Military internet was down along with GPS and satellite linkups, so all they had left were the FM radios and landlines that were still working. “Goddamn it! Are we in communications with anybody?”
Another radio operator chimed in. “We have riots at the entrance of the embassy compound, sir. People are attempting to rush the barricades. MPs are requesting authorization to use force.”
“Granted,” General Sunderland said grimly. “Order all units to go weapons free. Go to full lockdown. How many Apaches do still we have airborne?”
“At last count six, sir,” a third communications staffer said. “But that was just before the storm hit the Green Zone. Now I can’t raise any of them with our commos.”
General Sunderland kept looking at the charts. “Do we still have the underground lines to the main embassy building?”
The first radio operator started flipping the switches on his radio. “We still do, sir, though we’re getting a lot of static now.”
Major Rawls said nothing but looked at his commanding officer and nodded.
General Sunderland sighed. That was it then. “Signal general evacuation. Code grey alpha one.”
There was furious activity as all the radio operators began to transmit the evacuation order. This meant that all remaining embassy personnel were to try and make it across the Tigris using the Two Stories Bridge that was located south of the compound. From there, a transport unit was supposed to be waiting for them at the Doha Refinery, allowing them to either bring the convoy south, or head to the Al-Rasheed Airport to the east, right beside Camp Rustamiyah, which was supposedly under Iraqi Army control.
Within minutes of the order, General Sunderland strapped on a holstered pistol to his belt and started for the outer door along with Major Rawls as the C2 staff members began to get up while deactivating their communications systems. As Boland turned around, he could see that the medic had replaced the bandage on Gyle’s forearm with a fresh one as she too was packing up.
“You coming with us?” Boland said.
“Do I have a choice?” Gyle said as he got up. Looks like there wasn’t even time for a shower and a change of clothes, he thought.
Both men got to the outer door of the bunker and briskly walked out. They were both instantly hit with high winds as the dust storm swirling around them picked up in intensity. Gyle’s goggles and bandanna were tied to his throat and he quickly put them on. Boland just took out a pair of sunglasses and placed them over his eyes. Both men started running towards the vehicle compound where the transportation was waiting. Boland had to squint as small particles of sand were seeping in between the sunglasses and his eyes. They both could see armed military personnel running all over the place.
A sergeant started waving at them across the street in order to guide them towards the garages. Boland could see a Humvee drive up near the main embassy building just as the ambassador and two aides came out of the building’s front doors and started making their way to the vehicle.
Gyle couldn’t believe it. “He’s still here? I thought he was supposed to have gone already!”
Boland too had to shout because of the howling winds as they kept going while looking at them. “He said he would be part of the last group to evacuate. I guess he thinks he can be a hero.”
At that moment, something huge fell out of the sky, and landed right on top of the Humvee just as the ambassador got inside of it. It looked like a giant brown-furred lion and it had bird like wings on its back. Its head resembled that of a horrid looking man with a wild mane of hair and thick beard. The creature’s weight and momentum crushed the vehicle as its wheels gave out, its body smashed in like it went through a junkyard car crusher. Both men instinctively crouched down as the sergeant on the other side of the street leveled his M16 and began firing at the creature.
“We gotta move!” Gyle shouted as he started running towards the vehicle compound.
People on the outside were screaming and running in all directions as Boland began to sprint after Gyle. Despite the blowing wind and dust, they could hear gunfire and explosions all around. As the two men were less than forty yards away, they both quickly drew back in surprise as a huge, building sized creature landed on top of the garages and started to singlehandedly crush and kick the vehicles within. The huge M35 two and a half ton trucks were being trampled and tossed aside like toys; the destruction was so unearthly that every time the creature stomped its bird-like foot down, it created a small earthquake that sent both men sprawling onto the dusty concrete. As Boland looked up, he just couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
The gigantic creature had avian like legs that ended in talons, while its chest and torso were vaguely humanlike, with a skin color of black obsidian. On its back sprouted four feathered wings in a dragonfly-like fashion, with a pair of forward wings turned upwards and two hind wings that were facing down. But its massive face was that of a hideous demon: rounded, bloodshot eyes the size of satellite dishes; its small, stubby nose formed part of a flat snout and beneath them snarled a car-sized maw with numerous fanged teeth that could chew and swallow men whole by the handful. Its massive arms ended in broad claws that started to smash down at the surrounding blast walls
as if they were made of paper.
Boland screamed in stark realization of the truth as he remembered the trip to the archaeological museum. In one alcove stood an idol of a dreaded demigod that the ancient Assyrians and Babylonians both worshipped and feared. As he remembered looking at the idol and at the unearthly monster facing them now, he realized that its features were exactly the same. It represented the unceasing wind of desolation, of endless plagues and death. And here it was, in all its destructive glory. He had thought it was but a myth of an old and largely forgotten peoples; a tall tale to keep the young children in check. But in the end, it was real after all.
It was Pazuzu, the god of demons and the wind.
15. Convergence
New Mexico
Tara Weiss smiled to her herself as she drove the van down along a stretch of the deserted highway. For the first time in days she had felt good. Larry had finally given her permission to drive the car while he lay asleep, stretched out in the back of the van. She did take a driving class when she was still in high school a few months before, but she never took the test to get the license at the local Department of Motor Vehicles office because her dad didn’t care and she didn’t have a car anyway. They had been on the road for three days now. The van had just passed into the New Mexico state border less than a few hours ago. They probably would have been able to travel faster if they just made a beeline to the Kansas state border, but Larry wanted to specifically avoid the built-up areas and stick to the open road. Since the day began there had been considerably less cars on the back roads that they were taking, but Tara couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or a bad one since they haven’t been able to talk to anybody else. The radio was turned off since Larry was napping away; Tara was sick and tired of hearing Pastor Burnley’s constant sermons about how the world was ending and that the only way to get to salvation was to join his flock in Kansas. That’s where they were heading for anyway so she got it already, no need to keep hearing about it over and over again.
Tara glanced at the little Chihuahua that lay curled up in the front seat. The second night they spent was behind a small hill on the side of the highway; she had decided to just sleep on a blanket alongside the vehicle. Even though Larry had offered her the back of the van so they could doze side by side, she had refused. The dog woke her in the middle of the night when it jumped on top of her while Tara lay curled up on the dry grass and started barking. When she woke up, she realized Larry was standing over her and was just staring at the both of them in the dark. When she asked what was going on, he just turned around and went back to sleep in the back of the van. She got a little bit scared then, but her drowsiness won out and she soon fell asleep again. The next morning, Larry allowed her to drive the vehicle for the first time.
As she drove on and kept thinking about last night, the van soon moved into a built-up area of nearby houses and strip malls as Tara was lost in thought. She didn’t notice that an old sign that formerly said Albuquerque City Limits had been torn down and replaced with a handwritten sign that simply said “Defiance.” She drove into a street that was now in a developed area of abandoned warehouses and sand-colored buildings. That was when the shouting and the ringing of bells could suddenly be heard.
Tara’s eyes opened wide as she saw an improvised barricade ahead. As she began to put on the brakes, she saw from the rearview mirror that half a dozen people with hoods and ski masks ran into the street that they had just passed and started throwing caltrops on the road behind them. Tara shrieked as she noticed the iron spikes on the boulevard as the small crowd at the rear of the van started moving forward while brandishing baseball bats and steel rods.
“What the hell is going on?” Larry said as he sat up.
“We’re trapped!” Tara cried as she slowed the van almost to a halt just a few meters from the barricades. There were people milling around in front of them and they started shouting at them to get out of the vehicle.
The dog growled and leapt into the back of the van. Larry jumped into the front seat beside her and stomped his boot on top of her foot that was on the gas pedal. “Go, go, go!”
As the van accelerated forward, one of the people behind the barricade lit up and threw a Molotov cocktail, but it missed as it exploded just a few feet away on the side of the pavement. The van quickly careened into a side street as Larry twisted the steering wheel to the left, but they noticed that the avenue was blocked off as well. Tara screamed. Larry noticed that part of the section that seemed to be walled up at the edge of the sidewalk was composed of an upturned sofa and a couple of wooden chairs piled on it. He kept the steering wheel angled right for it. The van rammed through the side of the barricade and sent some broken furniture flying to the street as it continued on. He kept an iron grip on the wheel and pushed the weight of his boot on the accelerator as the van drove past the town and back onto the open road again. Larry’s steel-toed boot on the top of her foot was pretty painful, but Tara just bit her lip and tried to fight through the pain as a single tear rolled down her flushed cheek.
Larry finally took his foot off of hers when they realized that there would be no pursuit. There weren’t any cars following them as the van slowly pulled to a stop. He turned until his face was inches away from hers and shouted. “Get out of the driver’s seat!”
Tara didn’t look at him as she opened the driver’s side door and limped out. She wore light sneakers and she was sure there would be a bruise on the top of her foot when she got the chance to examine it. She kept staring down at the dusty concrete pavement as he slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door. Tara was sure he was going to leave her behind but instead he just sat there and stared out into the front of the van.
After a few minutes, Larry finally turned his head and looked at her. “Get in.”
Tara meekly walked over to the passenger side door, opened it, and got inside. Within seconds they were moving again.
For almost an hour, nobody said anything until Larry glanced at her again as he maneuvered the van around a pileup of smashed cars along the highway.
“I told you to keep an eye out. Don’t go into any built-up area. I told you that like fifty times,” he said as he kept his eyes on the road.
She started to cry a little. “I’m sorry.”
“They could have taken us down you know. We could have been killed.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
He shook his head slowly. “Alright, just be more mindful next time. Okay?”
“Okay.”
It took them a little over two hours, but they were able to maneuver around the Albuquerque city limits to the point where they could just skirt the edges of Santa Fe. Every time they would get close to any of the big cities, they noticed there were more piled up cars along the road. Tara grimaced as she noticed that there were burned out bodies in a few of them as they passed them by. By mid-afternoon, they were on a deserted stretch of highway on Interstate-25. Larry spotted an abandoned gas station and there were handwritten signs saying “NO GAS” that were nailed to the front of the store. Larry would have none of it as he tried the pumps, but the electricity was off so he took out a manual hand pump from the back of the van. It took an hour but he was able to get a full tank for it, plus he was also able to fill up the spare plastic jerry can he had in the back. By now, he was in a good mood as they drove out with the sun begging to set. Tara figured they probably had enough fuel to get to Kansas without having to stop for gas again.
Tara said nothing as they drove on for a few more hours until night finally fell. She had expected Larry to tell her to go ahead and drive while he would go to sleep in the back, but he didn’t as he just hummed a tune instead while turning on the headlights as the desert moon began to shine its luminescence over the horizon.
Tara looked at him. “Are we gonna stop soon?”
He didn’t look back at her but instead just smiled. “Soon.”
“When?”
“A few more miles. T
hen we bed down.”
Tara stared out into the twilit night. It was starting to get chilly. “Have you been here before?”
“Yes, there’s a place where we can stay, it’s just up ahead.”
“A place? What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
Within a few minutes, she saw a cluster of darkened buildings along the side of the road just a few miles ahead of them. It was evidently an abandoned motel. Its elevated vintage sign post wasn’t working, but she could plainly see the words Petrie Motel in the outlines of the deactivated neon billboard as they got close. Larry brought the van into the graveled driveway and stopped in front of the manager’s office.
“How did you know there wouldn’t be anybody here?” Tara said as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
Larry turned off the engine, got out and then stretched his legs on the tarmac. “I didn’t. But I figured there was a good chance the owners left.”
Tara had gotten out and started looking around. The little dog jumped out from the van and started to take a piss near a concrete column. “You stayed here before?”
Larry grinned at her as he turned on a flashlight with his left hand while taking out a set of keys with his right. “Sweetpea, I used to work here.”
“Oh yeah, as what?”
“I used to be the night manager,” Larry said as he unlocked the door to the office and went in.
Tara followed. When she got inside, she noticed the brown wooden counter and a sofa for waiting guests. Larry opened up the manager’s office, walked in, and then looked out the window at the back to see a large metal box just in the outside of the building. No rust, so it looked to be in good shape, but he wasn’t sure if it had any fuel in it. Hoping for the best, Larry located the electrical switch and flipped it on. Within minutes, a loud humming noise began as the generator started and the lights in and around the motel instantly came on. Tara was blinded for a bit, but she quickly readjusted her eyes to the now bright as daylight illumination. Larry began to manually deactivate the exterior lights of the buildings as well as the flashing neon motel sign right beside the highway.
The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1) Page 17