Humanity's Death [Books 1-3]

by Black, D. S.

  “What do you want?”

  “DEATH! JUST DEATH, BOY! I OWN THE MOUNTAIN KING. HE LIVES WITH ME NOW. HIS MIND NOTHING BUT SHADOW. I TELL YOU NOW, HE OBEYS ME AND ME ALONE. PRAY AND FIGHT, PINKY! BELIEVE THERE IS HOPE FOR YOU. BUT EVEN NOW, THE CLOCK TICKS YOUR DREAMS AWAY. A FINAL SOLUTION IS ON THE WAY.”

  A vision was forced into Pinky’s mind; he saw the farm, then the view expanded to the entire Palmetto state, then the entire south east. It burned, the land was black with death; the sky was blotted by a mushroom cloud of poison.

  “THIS IS YOUR FUTURE, BOY! THIS IS WHAT I BRING! BLACK AND LOVELY, ISN’T IT? ALL THE HOT SOULS BURNING AND CHURNING, COOKING AND ROASTING. A MEAL FOR ME, A DINING LIKE I HAVNEN’T HAD IN AGES, A FEAST OF DEAD SOULS FOR ME TO DEVOUR.”

  “You can’t do it alone, though.” Pinky was scared shitless, but he saw through the fear. He saw that this creature wasn’t a god, wasn’t invincible; wasn’t able to do these dastardly things without the help of the living. He could see Its mind, just as It could see his. “You need people. You need the Militia, but we killed them. A shit ton of them, and we’ll finish off your Mountain King. Mark my words, we’ll do it! Pinky Satterfield doesn’t lie down and bow to dark cowardly foes who hide in the shadows of nightmares!” Pinky felt anger, and with it came certainty; certainty that he would prevail against whatever this creature plotted. “I see your fear, black guard! I see your worry clearly now. You fear what’s left of humanity. The Fever may have opened the door to your darkness, but doors that open can also be closed. I intend to shut it, board it, and close you out from my realm for the rest of eternity!”

  An angry, shrill laughter exploded around Pinky. It wasn’t outside of him; the sounds came from his mind; after all, he was caught in some dark realm; trapped here by this unseen mystical beast. A creature of untold age and unwavering evil.

  “I SUCK SOULS DRY, PINKY MY BOY. THE LIFE FORCE FILLS ME WITH POWER AND AGE. MY DESTINY IS TO CONSUME PASSIONS, HOPES, FEARS, ALL THAT IS HUMAN. SUCK IT ALL UP, DRINK IT INTO THE DEPTS OF MY DARK HEART. I AM ETERNAL BLACK VOID. YOU, PINKY ARE NOTHING BUT A TROLL UPON TIME. A DREAM OF TRUE LIFE. I AM LIFE, PINKY. ME!”

  “That’s why you need our life force? Because you are so powerful? Bullshit! You’re just an egotistical dickhead! Powerful maybe—at least by human standards, but you’re not god. You’re not unstoppable. I can smell your fear, blackheart!”

  Pinky only hoped that the beast couldn’t smell his fear because, Pinky was scared. He shook all over, he couldn’t see this thing tormenting him, but he felt It. Felt It everywhere. It was ancient. Pinky could sense the countless ages that must have come and passed since this thing came into being. Pinky didn’t even want to imagine how such an entity could come to be. What could spawn such a blissfully evil monster? Did it evolve naturally in the vacuum of space and time? Whatever the case, it was now roaming the earth. It now victimized humans and had to be stopped.

  Pinky knew that his role on earth was now set in stone. His path clearly laid out before him. It wasn’t just the Militia he had to kill. They were merely puppets on a string. It was this unnamed spiritual beast that Pinky must slay. How? He didn’t have a clue, but he knew where will exists, a path exists.

  5

  Rainmaker stared with a look of amazement. Candy stood with her gleaming revolver held out in front of her; bright blue smoke rose from the barrel. All but one Lost Elf lay dead on the ground, their bodies melted into the earth; nothing but a bluish green liquid ooze. The remaining elf stumbled, screaming its insane cat howl. It was missing an arm and hot blue blood squirted out. Rainmaker was happy to see that none of the sleeping survivors were in the path of the blood. The elf’s teeth were bared in an angry and pain filled grimace. Its eyes darted from Rainmaker back to Candy.

  KA-POW! The last remaining Lost Elf fell dead; the shadow that had descended when they walked into the old Indian grave yard gave way to early afternoon sunlight.

  Candy spoke to him, holding her revolver so he saw it clearly. “Thanks for taking my gun. Keep it safe. My revolver ain’t gonna work for anyone but one gal. I need you to take it to her, the gun will show you the way. Her name’s Zarina…Don’t ask me how I know that, cause I sure the hell can’t give you an answer.”

  Johnny Rainmaker tried to say something to Candy, but it was too late. She was gone, just like that; she vanished like she was never there, as though she was nothing but a faded memory. For a moment Rainmaker had to question his sanity. Did this really just happen? Was all this real? Have I lost my min—

  The shock of the moment disappeared and in its place the pain of the elf blood reported to Rainmaker’s brain’s pain center, and he knew that it was all real. He couldn’t help it; he was not a man who normally would scream about pain, but he let out a howl of unmeasurable agony. He could see the bones in his forearm, he touched his face; he felt cheek bone. He was now a mangled mess of excruciating misery. He felt a wave of dizziness; his stomach turned, and he vomited bile onto the ground.

  Fight the pain. Fight the pain! Mind over matter! Mind over matter!

  No use, it didn’t work. The pain writhed through him, he looked like someone had thrown acid into his face. He was lucky to still have vision in both eyes. He laid on his back, teeth clinched together, forcing himself not to scream again. Screaming would only bring the dead.

  Not far from him, the others began to wake up.

  Pinky sat up and saw Rainmaker writhing on the ground. “Johnny! What happened?”

  Rainmaker only looked up at him with wild eyes. Pinky had never seen anything quite like it in real life. Rainmaker’s face reminded him of Two-Face in the Dark Knight. His lips were peeled back in a horrible, unnatural smile. His left cheek bone was exposed, skin and muscle melted away. Pinky looked around and saw nothing that could account for his friend’s current disaster. The Lost Elves were gone, not even their dead bodies remained. No sight of Candy either, nothing but regular woods and a few trampled graves.

  One of the few remaining men from the Battle for Columbia came up and handed Pinky a plastic wrapped syringe. “Last one, Pink. We’ll have to hurry and get him back. He’s gonna need Doctor Brown and a shit ton of antibiotics. Not to mention more pain medicine.” It was Tom Huntly doing the talking. Tom had been a medic in the national guard before the Fever, and Pinky was damn glad to have him here now. Pinky’s encounter with the mystic beast would have to wait at the back of his mind. Right now, all that mattered was getting Rainmaker back to the farm before he died of shock or infection. Incredibly, there was little to no blood loss from him. Thank god for small miracles.

  “Hold on old buddy,” Pinky said as he unwrapped the syringe of morphine. He stabbed it into Rainmaker’s thigh and pushed the medicine into him. Within a minute Rainmaker’s face and body began to relax.

  Rainmaker looked up at Pinky. “Get me home, Pink. Fast as lightning.”

  “Count on it.”

  Tom Huntly had already began tearing down small trees and branches with the help of the others. Using some tape and rope, he created a makeshift gurney. “He’s a big man, but I think it will hold. We’ll have to take shifts carrying him. I don’t suggest we stop till we make it.”

  “If my reckoning is right, we’re only about three hours from the farm.”

  “That’s moving at normal speed. This will slow us down. We won’t make it before dark, Pink.” Tom said.

  “Then let’s not waste another moment,” Pinky said.

  And they didn’t. They gathered Johnny up; Pinky and Tom taking the first carry shift. The survivors then moved with speed. What few walkers they did run up against proved no match and were easily disposed of.

  The sun was disappearing, though. Night was nearly upon them. Pinky figured they were at least another two hours away.

  6

  Rainmaker’s mind was a mix of numbness and waves of pain. The medicine worked great for the first two hours, but it soon wore off. The hustle and bustle of being strapped to a gurney o
f wood, tape, and rope did not help. The wood dug into his back; the jostling made him sick to his stomach. In all Johnny Rainmaker’s adventures, from Iraq and Afghanistan, to the many tough fights after the Fever; he had never been this bad off, never did he think he could be this bad off. His friends carried him with valiant courage; their shapes were dark to him though. His vision kept blurring with moments of extreme dizziness. Closing his eyes didn’t help, the world continued to swirl in dark void.

  At some point he passed out for at least an hour. He dreamed he was in a dark room with no windows. He was tied to a chair, he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t see who or what was in the room with him, but he could feel It. It was like being in the lair of some hungry animal. This animal was old and powerful and damn hungry. Hungry for the soul. Johnny could sense Its black, dark, and evil thoughts. Thoughts of bringing pain to all those who lived and breathed radiated out of the beast like cancer rays; It wanted to hurt anyone that had ever dreamed of happy days. This creature wanted to devour any such thought, eat them alive and consume the energy; it was its food, soul food.

  Though Johnny Rainmaker’s physical body was in a heap of shit, fevered and burning with hot pain; his state of mind in this strange and black environment was sharp and concentrated. He knew he was disembodied; this was no dream, not even a vision. This was real. He didn’t know how that could happen; how he could be in this place while his dying body was being carried back to the farm; nonetheless, he felt the black beast all around him.

  Suddenly a voice boomed: “TELL ME WARRIOR, WHAT’S IT LIKE TO DIE A FOOL? WHAT’S IT LIKE HAVING FALSE HOPE IN YOUR STRENGTH? I KNOW YOUR KIND. YOU THINK YOU ARE INVINCIBLE, UNSTOPPABLE. LOOK AT YOU NOW! BEATEN AND MUGGED BY A GANG OF ELVES!” The creature cackled; the laugher was deep and dripping with hatred.

  “I have a feeling you have no more power over me than what I allow. Is that so?” Johnny didn’t know this for sure, but he felt it on an intuitive level. If this mad beast could harm him, he would already be dead.

  Whatever power this thing had was purely mental. It could only try and destroy the spirit. It was nothing more than a pissed off demon wanting to dash any hope a person had. It wanted to bring people down to its miserable level, and then consume them whole.

  Not today! Not on Johnny Rainmaker’s watch.

  “Lost Elves may have hurt me, but you have no power other than what you’re doing now. A man with a strong mind can withstand you.”

  “SUCH BOLDNESS! SUCH ARROGANCE! YOU AND YOUR FRIEND PINKY! MORTAL SCUM! YOU’RE FLESHY GARBAGE! I WILL FEAST ON YOUR SOUL BEFORE THIS IS OVER WITH. I PROMISE! YOU WILL WISH YOU’D NEVER CROSSED MY UNDYING AND UNBREAKABLE SPIRIT. NOW GET A TASTE OF MY POWER!”

  The room went from dark to bright white. Standing in front of Rainmaker was a Native American couple. A baby cried on a filthy couch in front of them, needle marks covered the couple’s arms. Bottles of alcohol littered the floor alongside used syringes.

  “We can’t keep him, time to give him up.”

  “I know. But… But…,” the woman cried. Long tears ran down her face.

  “Take this.” She took the syringe and began to prepare her arm.

  “LOOK WHERE YOU COME FROM, FLESH BAG! LOOK AT THE GENES THAT FLOAT IN YOUR DISGUSTING BLOOD! YOU ARE NO DIFFERENT THAN YOUR PARENTS, YOU’RE WEAK JOHNNY BOY! WEAK AND EASILY DESTROYED.”

  “Those are not my parents!” Rainmaker was shaking. He’d never seen his biological mother and father, but this was not some illusion. He knew that, just like he knew that this realm he sat in was real. He was watching a past moment; the moment his parents decided drugs were better than he was; drugs were stronger than any love they felt for him; they would give him away like a dog; forget about him and drown themselves with drugs till the day they died.

  As unbelievable as it was, Johnny felt tears. He’d never cried, never! Not when he broke his bones as a youth, not when he screwed up in high school and missed a game winning kick during the State Finals for his soccer team. But now….

  .…the tears streamed down. He felt shame, he felt hurt. His parents tossed him away like a piece of stench ridden garbage.

  “CRY! CRY! CRY! LOOK AT THE MIGHTY INDIAN WARRIOR! LOOK AT THE BRAVE MARINE NOW! HAHAHAHA! CRYING LIKE A LITTLE WEAK PUSSY BOY! WEAK! SO WEAK AND SAD. GIVE UP JOHNNY, BOY. AS YOU CAN SEE YOU’VE GOT PUSSY BOY GENES INSIDE YOU. YOU’VE ONLY BEEN FOOLING YOURSELF UP TILL NOW. NOW I’VE SHOWN YOU THE TRUTH ABOUT WHO AND WHAT YOU ARE, SO GIVE UP. GIVE IN, SAY DIE! YOU’LL BE HAPPIER THAT WAY. STOP FIGHTING YOUR TRUE NATURE. YOU WILL BECOME ONE WITH ME, ONE WITH DARKNESS AND AGONY. THAT’S YOUR DESTINY, JUST LIKE IT WAS FOR YOUR PARENTS. YOU CAN NO MORE AVOID YOUR NATURE THAN A BUG CAN AVOID FLYING INTO A HOT LIGHT.”

  Rainmaker watched as his parents lay on the floor. They’d just shot themselves up with heroin. Their faces looked relieved, but under the surface Johnny saw the pain, hate and utter despair that consumed them. Johnny lowered his head to his chin and cried.

  “YES! YES! YOU’RE MINE! JUST FOR ME! I WILL EAT YOUR SOU—”

  Johnny raised his head and his blood shot eyes were burning with something that caused the beast to shut up. Johnny was not his father. Johnny was not his mother. Johnny was a social construction molded by the hands of a hardcore Vietnam Marine corps veteran. His biological mother was a drug addict, but his adopted mother was a warm-hearted woman who taught him his spirit was invincible and full of grace, hope, and courage. It was true his biological mother and father’s genes rushed through his blood, but their corrupt biology was shaped by their social reality as was Johnny’s.

  His eyes was still blood shot, but the tears had stopped. The warrior had returned. The crying child on the sofa didn’t exist anymore, only the bold soul who sat before the dreadful creature existed now; and inside Johnny was a persistent boldness that declared to the world that he would never bow to pain, never run in the face of fear, never allow the enemy a foot hold.

  The black creature said nothing more. Johnny opened his eyes and he was filled with pain. Pinky was huffing and puffing above him. Johnny could see the night sky and even with all the pain that he was now suffering, he felt a surge of courageous hope, a blast of empowerment.

  “What are you smiling at?” Pinky said. “Sure as hell can’t be me. I know I must look like hell.”

  “I told you those cigarettes ruined your cardio,” Rainmaker said. It hurt to speak, but it hurt even more not to. He was alive, he had a mission and he intended to accomplish it. Whatever that thing was, him and Pinky had it in them to rise above it and crush it.

  7

  Pinky was sweating huge globs of water pellets. They streamed down his face. He figured Johnny was right; the cigarettes would kill him before the New World could, but he kept pushing on and refused to trade off with anyone else. He would go till they made it to the farm. The sun was down, and darkness was everywhere. He heard the familiar sounds of bugs chirping. A cool summer breeze rustled over the leaves and blew blessed air against his hot face.

  He was worried about Johnny, but he was also scared for those back at the farm. He knew something was happening. The creature from the other realm had given him enough context clues to know that.

  His boots trampled on the ground, his hat bobbed up and down but didn’t fall off. His empty revolver jiggled in its holster. He wanted a cigarette, but he would be damned if he stopped this train of survivors in order to have a smoke. He’d smoke himself to death once he reached the farm.

  Would he? What were they going to find when they got there? Hopefully everyone was fine and right as rain, but they might all be dead. What if a horde came through? But they had the fences. The fences were strong and could endure a large horde as long as they were picked off at a steady pace.

  He looked down at Rainmaker’s face. Dear lord have mercy, the man looked rough. Half his face was gone, with nothing but bone showing. Could he survive this? If anyone could, it sure as hell would be Johnny fucking Rainmaker.

  Pinky hit a rock with
the tip of his boot and nearly fell over. “Jesus Christ! I’m sorry Johnny.”

  Amazingly, Rainmaker produced a smile; a hideous smile, but a smile all the same. “Don’t worry Pink. Just get me home. Doctor Brown will fix me up good as new.”

  Pinky doubted that. Doctor Brown might save Rainmaker’s life, but this Native American warrior would never be the same. Even if all the Old World technology and medical know how still existed, no one was going to be able to put Johnny back together again. He now had a battle scar to put all other battle scars to shame. And what in hell had done it? All Pinky could remember before he fell asleep were those bright eyes glowing in the trees. Then he was in the other realm with the creature. He’d have to ask Johnny all about it once he was back on his feet again, but for now Pinky focused on breathing. Just breathe, Pink. Just keep moving. Keep on breathing.

  As he trudged along, he turned to the problem of the nameless creature. What was It? What was Its purpose? It was a bitter and angry thing, that was for certain; It hated life. It hated humans. It hated our joys and hopes.

  Pinky thought maybe it was the very incarnation of jealousy. It couldn’t feel joy, except for when it could suck it out of the spirits of the living, and even then; it was like watching joy on a movie screen, some watered-down version; a B movie that had shitty actors and poor plotting. And the creature wanted to feel joy, wanted to feel happiness. In that way, it should be pitied; but how can a man pity a beast that only sought the death and pain of all humans?

  Oh boy, shit on a stick. Golly molly, miss party hardy. This was one serious shitter. That’s for fuck sakes sure. Just breathe, Pink. Push the troubles aside for the moment and just breathe.

  “You hear that?” Tom Huntley brought the group to a stop. While Pinky and another man carried Rainmaker, Huntley had taken point.