by Hawk, J. K.
“SHUT UP!” I cried out as I huddled in the corner, trying to achieve a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep.
“Talking to me?” The raspy voice muttered.
“All of you!” I stammered in return.
“It’s onlyme, myfriend.” The response now more familiar than before. Glancing up my eyes focused on a dark figure adjacent to me. Ash, in full battle gear, sitting fiercely with his arms resting upon his knees.
“Mason? What the fuck are you doing?”
“Watching the master of failure.” He said.
“He hasn’t failed yet.” Another force chimed in. “But when he does, it will be magnificent!” My eyes darted over, Adam leaned back against the radio table, arms crossed as he gazed down upon me. His eyes were black voids of endless despair.
“There’s still time.” I muttered.
“For who?” Mason questioned. “Pretty little Steph is dead, and right now the Dark Ones are tearing that boy limb from limb.”
“You lie.” I snarled before sucking down what remained of the water.
“Does he?” Another voice, this one deeper and somehow wiser than the others. “Face it, it’s over. Why not end your misery, you have your gun - use it.”
Slowly my gaze drifted about the room, searching for that third voice, but there was no one else in the lookout. Only an old friend and a lost soul, as well as myself, and even their existence was impossible. But, in an instant, my eyes connected with a slight flutter just outside the window. An owl, its marbled feathers lay flat and pristine in the breezeless night and large but ever so wise baby-blues peered down at me through the hazy glass.
“No!” I shouted at them. “There is another way.”
“Don’t fall prey, Patrick.” A sweet and meek voice whispered to me. “You have done all you can – let go.”
This voice, much unlike the others, sent chills down my spine. It was both comforting and distressing, aching my heart and summoning cold thick tears. Those heavenly words drift from the bird in the window, and as I stared at it with dreadful anticipation, the vision began to blur. The Bird of Prey, fierce and agile, bit by bit it distorted. Out of the fuzzy haze, the pristine figure of a young woman emerged, her baby-blues now glowing an emerald green as she stepped through the outer wall and approached me.
It was undoubtedly Mia, gorgeous and awe inspiring, I marveled at her garmentless and petite figure as it was in her prime. Sweet and innocent, a naive young girl with our lord and savior scantily perceivable within her dainty midriff. Adam’s admiration for her was understandable now, she was an angel, a goddess, a pure soul hardened by a life of torment and misery. I too was in awe, and trembled as she slowly knelt down before me and caressed my cheek with a softness never felt before, a ghostly presence.
“Your failure is not unforgivable, but admirable.” She continued to whisper. “You continue to fight, even though the fight had been lost long ago. Wash your hands of it, seek out your wife and daughter with satisfaction and in peace.”
Mia cusped my face with her soft and petite hands and leaned closer, her billowy lips caressed mine with such divinity I could not resist. A motherly perfume wafted from her and through my senses, clean and pure, like a long awaited summer’s rain. And the dampness of her lips, the fleecy touch of her tongue upon my own only pulled me deeper into her intoxicating and erotic embrace. My eyes closed as I was consumed by her seductiveness, entranced by our carnal and sinful kiss. Her saliva washed over my taste-buds with a cool sweetness that seemed to envelop my entire mouth before perverting into a thick and irony sludge.
My eyes snapped open and I pushed her away with such force that she fell hard upon the old cedar floor boards, and all at once, the ghostly jurors taunted me with a chorus of laughter. Mia was no longer the persona of perfection, but the hideous construct of her own fate. Much like the day I found her remains, her eyes had been torn away, and the flesh from her face stripped to the bone by the mastication of necrotic incisors. Coagulated blood poured from the wounds, like artificial and half-assed gore from a cheesy b-movie, and her stomach was a cutaway, a dark and empty cavity of despair was all that remained.
“Mankind is at its end.” Adam continued. “Your efforts are futile.”
“We are not forsaken.” I muttered with detest, only to be answered with their psychotic chuckles. “You’re not real! NONE OF YOU!”
“Maybe not.” Ash spoke up. “Maybe we are just a figment of your own delusion. But…” He paused to snicker. “They are.”
I didn’t have a chance to respond before the unmistakable ticks and clucks of the Dark Ones broke me out of my hallucination, and instantly, the four of them had vanished. My heart pounded painfully in my chest as I stood up and peered out the window. I was surrounded with nowhere to go, no way to escape, no hope for rescue. My mind raced with useless options, and before I knew it, my bladder expelled its content down my legs.
Two dark figures leaped upon the supports and swiftly shimmied themselves up without a hint of strain, and my entire body began to shiver with dread. My hand jittery, I pulled the pistol from my belt and held it out, waiting for a Prowler to expose its brittle skull for me. When it did, I yanked the trigger with impatience, only to hear a lifeless click to follow. Repeating, over and over, click after click. The clip was full, a round in the chamber, and the fifty caliber hand cannon still had no life. A series of duds, an unfortunate dilemma.
Misguided instinct took hold as another scaly and blackened demon peered up over the rails, and I dashed towards the trapdoor. Hastily I unlatched the lock and flung it open before dropping down through. My hands loosely grasped the rails and like a fireman’s pole I slid downward. With my mind racing, I failed to control my descent, slamming to the ground with the loud crunch of my left ankle reverberating through my ears.
Thankfully there was no pain, whether it was the adrenaline or just a delayed reaction, I did not care. The Prowler’s erupted with chatter and shrieks as my legs bolted away from the high-rise tomb and down into the forest-covered mountainside. Although I felt as if I was at a full sprint, I was obviously hobbling, reaching out for branches to keep me afoot as the hunters continued in full pursuit. Their shrieks raised the hair on my neck as the dark of night concealed their ever approaching presence.
But Ididn’t stop, I charged forth, unsure of the direction or even how I’d escape their fury. Before I knew it, my ankle regained its strength, and I was leaping over logs and boulders with ease, and the echoes of my pursuers began to fade as I gained ground. Slowly the steep decline leveled off and I found myself within a valley oasis filled with wild edibles and a cold trickling brook, all glowing with a blue haze from the casts of the moon. I was alone, no sign of the dead but just the echoes of the owls. In exhaustion I slumped down against a rock to catch my breath.
“Now what?” Adam’s voice rung out.
“You can’t run forever.” Said the Owl as it fluttered down upon a nearby branch.
“It’s time, Patrick,” Mia called out from across the brook, her skin glowing in the moonlight, and her petite and perky breasts almost took away the blight of her masticated body. “Let my son thrive on his own – it’s time to join mankind on the other side.”
“So, he is alive.” I spat at them.
“Just let it happen, Patrick.” Ash whispered into my ear. “Let them take you, it’s a better place.”
“NO!” I screamed and sprung back to me feet while swinging my fist fast and hard at him, only to swipe through dry tempered air.
As I stumbled to regain my balance, a sharp and painful force plowed into my back and I tumbled to the ground. My head cracking off a rock as I rolled down into the brook and the cold mountain water instantly sent shivers down my spine as it saturated me from head to toe. At the edge of the embankment, a tall dark figure stood breathing heavily as it gazed down at my hopeless form. Its head cocked back and forth as it arched its back over me and its bony, lanky arms hung aimlessly. Slowly I stretched my ha
nds out, reveling in the cool dampness, and surrendered my soul to the demons.
“Wake up Man-Devil!” Abel cried.
My eyes snapped open to find Abel pouring cold water over my face, and Steph standing with concern above me. As my head cleared I realized I was still in the Fire-Tower and the sun was just prying itself from the night. Quickly I sat up, coughing away the water and wiping my eyes clear as I shook those ghastly visions from my wayward head.
“You stupid man.” Abel jested. “Why you no drink?”
Slightly confused, I looked over at the bottle of water left behind to find it still full and obviously piss warm. It was all a delusion, visions of a parched mind, psychological nonsense. But what if it wasn’t. Adam was once plagued with visions of those who had passed, but what seemed like absurd dreams, turned out to be fair warning from beyond. Maybe there is futility in my assignment, maybe all is lost, and death is the answer.
March of Atonement
After regaining my strength, and convincing Steph that I was able to continue, we left the fire-tower behind and headed south, towards Moose Back Mountain and at its base, Rangeley. The thought of all the struggles man still faces, still creates, pained me more than that grueling hike. The hope of survival is diminishing as we venture onward, and mankind is thrown back into a chaotic and treacherous war. The people of the GFS once relied on my optimistic visions of the future, that of a new society where everyone worked together to better the human race. Now we are being driven back into old-world habits by distrust and greed, the very faults that have condemned us over and over again.
We hadn’t been on the move for long before being cut-off by two Prowler’s, a duo of disease, spindly statures and sweating with infection. They were more aggressive and had an unflustered stance, defyingthe boy’s dominatingintimidationswith violent charges that ended inches before the Abel’s feet and then followed by a sullen retreat. Again much like that of a wolf pack or a pride of lions, they were testing for weaknesses, yet ultimately tethered by uncertainty. Wolves pitted against lions in a primitive duel.
“GO!” The boy shouted finally as he released a single arrow from his bow,whichswiftlyimbeddedinto thealpha’s shoulder,and with a horrific squeal they retreated into the dense alpines. But they did not go far, as we continued onward, their vocalizations and missteps echoing throughout the forest. On guard, I kept my pistol in hand, ready to end their despicable existence.
We made good timing, mostly sticking to the valleys and rivers, and we traveled over half our journey in just a few hours, decisively making camp atop Snow Mountain at sunset. As the sun faded, and Abel sparked up a fire, I watched intently as shadows of night descended over Flagstaff Lake and the adjacent burnt out town of Stratton. Both so small and foreign from such a distance, and before long they faded into blackness. Although the Infected do not fear fire, Prowler’s on the other hand succumb to their sentient state and are petrified of its scorching flames. So we kept the fire bright and hot. Thankfully though, we encountered no mindless fiends that night, but the presence of the Dark Ones, as the boy refers to them, lingered throughout.
“How will they get us?” The boy questioned just as I was drifting off to sleep.
“Who?” I asked.
“Your people, how will they get to us if they are so far away?”
“Helicopter most likely.”
“So I will get to fly? Like a bird?”
“Sort of. Have you ever seen one before?”
“Only pictures, in books. Is it scary?”
“It can be. They are very noisy and can shutter violently. But seeing the world from so high up is breathtaking.”
“Is that how you got here?” He questioned further.
“It is.”
“Where is it? Why not take that one?”
“I’m not apilot, for one. And two, that helicopter was destroyed when we crashed.”
“You crashed?” He asked feverishly.
“Shot down, by raiders.” I answered back. “My people are aware of them now, and they are trained to handle it if they should attack again.”
“I think I would rather walk it.” He suggested.
“It’s too far, and too dangerous.”
“For you maybe.” He said with a nervous humor.
“We have a long day tomorrow, you should rest.” I mentioned, for which he ignored, and continued to poke and prod at the coals with a stick. But he did not pursue the conversation any further, and slowly I drifted back to sleep. Although my mind was sedated, and random absurd imagery plagued my subconscious, I could hear Abel humming. It was not of any song I recognized, but had a catchy tune, and may possibly be something concocted in his own head. But soon his hymn faded beneath a chorus of crickets, and my dreams ran rampant and intensified.
* * * * * Once again I was plagued with visions of the angelic Mia, but no from lack of fluids, but just my own untethered and comatose subconscious. As before, she was the epitome of beauty, yet bound by the disfiguration of her own demise. However, she did not come to me with disparaging words or the persuasion to give up and optout. Instead, she remained silent, pale and ghostly, shimmering in a moonless night.
I rose from my dusty bed and looked down upon Abel and Steph sleeping silently next to a cold-ash pit. Steph seemed so peaceful, as did Abel, akin to that of an ordinary child, innocent and naïve. Not the fierce and defiant hybrid of man and demon he generally portrays during the waking hours. I couldn’t help but smile at them, proud of their resolve, and envying their oblivious exposure. A herd of Necrotic’s could easily waltz into the campsite and smother their existence without realization.
But, my surreal vision turned back to Mia as she sauntered into the dense forest, beckoning for me to follow. And I did. Slowly, cautiously, and with complete admiration that this visage was her for me an me alone. We walked awhile, through the dark canopy of the mountain, and gradually the nauseating gore that smothered her symmetry began to fade. Blood receded, and flesh regenerated, until she was whole again. Gorgeous and full of life, and I stared in awe. Not with carnal urges for her bare skin and lusty figure, but in amazement of her utter perfection.
She noticed my gaze, and casually reached out to grasp my hand as she pulled me along with her. Still silent, she stepped with precision over sticks and sharp rocks, her bare feet still pristine aside from the dirt stained soles. For a moment, I was unaware this was still a dream, I could feel her skin in my hands, smooth and soft like the flesh of a newborn baby. And as we continued further, my admiration of her purity began to dissolve over the roar of crackling flames.
Mia came to a halt, as did I, before the edge of a steep cliff. The drop below seemed to stretch thousands of feet deep into the blinding light of a forest valley. Then entire basin was aflame, trees violently scorched, a fiery river roared through the land, and endless bodies screamed in agony as the inferno blistered and charred their flesh. There had to be hundreds of thousands of them, packed tightly in the narrow gorge, but they were not of the living. They were the burning remains of the Infected, and their wails of pain screeched out over the mountains like banshees.
My eyes were stunned at the sight of them, unwavering as I watch the disease consumed and trapped souls living their final moments in agony. But Mia stepped out in front of me, blocking my view as she reached up and place a hand on either side of my distraught face. A queer and subtle smile crossed her silky lips and slowly she leaned forward and pressed them against my own, so soft, so palpable that I had completely forgotten about the holocaust below. But the ghostly kiss did not last, the young beauty stepped back, and one word escaped her lips like the ethereal cord of an angel’s harp.
“BURN!” As my mind raced to comprehend her command, my eyes caught sight that he feet hovered out beyond the cliff’s edge, and in an instant she fell, her gorgeous figure quickly dousing the flames below and fading into a darkly abyss. She was gone, and deep down I knew that this cryptic delusion would be the last I would see of the be
loved Mia. But her countenance, her celestial semblance, would forever remain within my mind, irrevocably burned.
* * * * * Just before dawn I awoke, still exhausted and chilled to the bone. The boy had never fallen asleep during the night, he stood guard and kept the fire from dwindling dangerously low. Steph lay beside me, snoring ever so sweetly with her fingers fiddling with my hair. She hasn’t spoken yet of our intimate night, but every so often I catch a glimpse of her staring at me, and then her cheeks flush with red upon being caught. Abel has not notice, and he too courts her with childish gestures, assisting her down from a ledge, or holding her hand as we cross a brook. The guilt of leading him on plagues us both, but we have no choice but to continue this ruse if he is to return to Maribel with us.
Rising from the mountain floor, Abel swiftly threw some dried pine branches and birch bark upon the fire, and in an instant they had burst into flames. The fiery rage nearly blinding my light starved eyes, causing them to squint tightly in pain until they had time to adjust. But, an even brighter flash overshadowed the fires radiance, and the morning gloom ignited into daylight, followed by a low rumbling thunder that yanked the boy to his feet, and Steph from her distant dreamland. Gazing off into the distance, towards the source, the former town of Stratton which was now consumed by prophetic fire. A large black cloud circled above it like the Devil’s halo, a shadowy ring of fiery ash.
“What is it?” The boy asked.
“A bomb, I presume.” I answered, the only answer I had. Was this what Mia spoke of from my dream, I couldn’t be too
sure, but her words last night came to me more like a suggestion, rather than that of a premonition. My first assumption of the blast was nuclear, but there was no tell-tale mushroom cloud, no pillar of fallout above the once quaint town. The GFS, during its rise, had determined Nuclear weapons were missing from abandoned arsenals throughout the country, but no one had the means to detonate one. This was, however, the blast of a man-made contraption. Not quite as big as a nuke, but just as destructive. My best guess was some form of thermobaric weapon, designed to devastate and vaporize, but not irradiate. The bigger question was, why?