Blood God (The Hroza Connection Book 5)

by William Vitka

  She gives me a look: The fuck are we waiting for?

  I say, “Got something to do before we hit the lighthouse.”

  * * *

  Me and Athena. We take our time. Stay hidden. Use the confusion consuming the cult camp to sneak to the pits.

  We walk in the front door.

  Cuz why not.

  Athena glances between the pits. To the Keefs. The dismembered hellbaby. The neutered stilt-walker. She cocks an eye at me. “What in living shit is this place?”

  I light a Lucky Strike. “Where they fed parts of me to those things.”

  Dr. Janice Brennan emerges from the door in the rear. She stops. Hint of panic on her face.

  Athena shoulders her rifle. Gives me a quick look with her eyes.

  I say, “Wing’er.”

  The Marlin barks.

  Brennan’s right foot evaporates in a pink mist. She screams. Drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  I stifle a laugh. Arch my eyebrows at Athena.

  Athena says, “What?” She lowers the rifle. “Seriously, what? This bitch was feeding parts of you—my father—to the monsters in these pits? She can eat a dick named ‘bullet.’”

  I clear my throat. “No argument here.” I smoke. “Watch the door, huh?” I stride toward Brennan.

  She’s a yowling mess. Rocking on her side. Hands clamped around the bloody meat where her foot used to function. Her eyes burn with hate. “You pig. I see you found some self-hating girl to help you.”

  Athena’s gun thunders again.

  The dirt near Brennan’s head pufts up.

  Brennan and I look to Athena.

  Athena just shakes her head. Nope.

  Now I chuckle. “That’s my daughter.” I get on my haunches. Blow smoke. Say to Brennan, “So, ah...What’s up, Doc?”

  Brennan says, “Fuck you, pig. Just do it.”

  I poke her with the barrel of the 1887. “Do what, Doc?”

  She sneers. Her nostrils flare.

  I make a mock surprised face. “Oh! You mean kill you.” I take a drag from the cigarette. Shake my head. “Nah. That’s not how this is gonna go.” I scratch the side of my face. Point to Athena. “There was a woman in Newark—a shitbird like you, kinda—who killed that girl’s mother. What happened to that shitbird was, my robot cooked off one of her ankles. Then I put a bullet through the bitch’s brain.”

  I take a long, long drag off the Lucky Strike. Get in real close to Brennan’s ear. Whisper. “But that shitbird didn’t order people to cut parts off me and feed em to infected while I watched, did she?”

  Do it.

  Eye for an eye.

  This is how the world works now.

  Brennan realizes what I mean in a heartbeat. She thrashes to get away. Tries to backhand me.

  I catch her by the wrist. Shoot her other goddamn foot into soup. Laugh like a psychopath. “You’ll never tap-dance again, Brennan!”

  Weee!

  I grab Brennan by the throat. Drag her to the edge of the pits. “Too bad your experiment never got to phase two, right? The part where you eat me. Man. Bummer. Wait! I have an idea.”

  I drop Brennan for a second. Lay the tip of my pinky against the barrel of the shotgun. Pull the trigger. Blow the top of my finger away. Smile. Toss the shotgun far enough away that Brennan can’t grab it.

  Brennan tries to back away on her elbows.

  I grab her by the throat again. “Open up. Here comes phase two.” I dangle the gory stump of my pinky over her mouth. Let my blood gush into her choking mouth.

  She chokes. Spits. Screams. “No! No, your blood kills. You don’t understand yet, but I can—”

  Danger! Danger, Will Robinson! We are approaching peak misogynistic symbolism.

  Fine.

  I drag Brennan to the pit of zombies. Lower the edges of her ruined legs in. “Here are your gods, Brennan.”

  Brennan shrieks. Slaps at me.

  The Keefs reach for her.

  Brennan says, “Don’t. Please, don’t.” Her eyes full of tears. Pleading. “I’ll help you. I swear. I’ll help you.”

  I growl. “You don’t wanna ‘converge’ no more?” Lower her a little more.

  Her body spasms as the zombies dig their fingers into her flesh.

  I hear her skin and muscle come away with thick shlorps. I hear her shoulders dislocate as I hold her against the Keefs’ frenzied tugging.

  She begs again. “Please, help.”

  I shake my head. “You’re finally ‘converging’ with your gods, Dr. Brennan.” I pull her in close. Whisper again: “These are your gods.

  “But I am the new god.”

  I let go.

  Brennan tumbles into the pit. Screams. Squeals. Makes insane noises as the zombies tear her into individual Brennan bits.

  I stand.

  Walk back toward Athena.

  She eyes me. “I’m strangely proud of you, daddy.” She eyes the drippy tip of my pinky. “You okay?”

  I look into my pack of Lucky Strikes. Two left. “No. I need smokes.”

  * * *

  I slide into the red-lit hallway of the lighthouse. Wave Athena in.

  We shut the door behind us. Lock it.

  Madison and Gunnar lean out from the room that used to be my prison.

  They wave the both of us down.

  I make quick introductions. “Athena, meet Madison and Gunnar. Madison and Gunnar, meet Athena, my daughter.”

  Madison and Gunnar squint at me.

  Madison says, “Your daughter? Were you a proud parent at ten or something?”

  I cross my arms. “Long story. Got any gauze?” I lift my half-there pinky.

  “Yeah, yeah. Hang on.” Madison disappears from the room.

  Gunnar stares at me and Athena. Stone-faced. Him about two feet taller than either of us. Angry muscle.

  I say to him: “Dude, I dunno what your problem is.”

  He grunts.

  I rub my face. “Gonna be hard to communicate like this. Just...say something? Maybe? We can get the ball rolling.”

  Gunnar grimaces. Opens his mouth.

  Waggles the scarred remainder of a tongue.

  I let my arms fall to my sides. “Never mind then.”

  Madison returns. She totes two big plastic boxes. The muscles in her thin arms bulge. Gauze and some medigel sit on top. She says, “Almost forgot about your stuff.” Deposits the treasure at our feet. “Nobody wanted to go near any of this. Norris said it was all the ‘work of heretics.’”

  She wraps an arm around Gunnar.

  Gunnar wraps a massive arm around Madison’s waist.

  I smile at the two of em. Lock eyes with Madison. Then Gunnar. “Thank you. We’re gonna get you outta here. Both of you.”

  Athena echoes me. “We will. You’ll be safe at the fortress.”

  I kick the lid off my crate. Almost cry with joy.

  There’s my carbon mesh suit. My jeans. My boots. My combat vest. My rucksack. My Colts.

  My gorgeous, gorgeous Colts.

  I kiss the revolver. Kiss the M1911. Kiss the loose .45 ammo. Kiss the M1911’s magazines. Say, “Oh, my babies. I promise I’ll never leave you again.”

  There are packs of American Spirit cigarettes buried in my rucksack. As well a half-bottle of Evan Williams whiskey.

  Then, truly, I do cry.

  Outta sheer happiness.

  Madison watches me. Eyes Athena. Says, “You two are part of a fuckin weird family.”

  Athena says, “No shit.”

  Gunnar grunts.

  Athena primes a stubby gun I only recognize from the movies. Aliens, specifically. The motherfuckin M41A Pulse Rifle.

  She sees me admire it. Says, “Yeah, Uncle Caleb made it work. Figured it all out. Th
is is standard issue now for Spartans. 10mm explosive-tip submachine gun on top with a 30mm underslung—either low-yield grenades or shotgun. Like a Thompson humped a SPAS-12.”

  I blink. “Spartans? That a Halo reference or?”

  Athena rolls her eyes. “No, it’s a fuckin Sparta reference, dad.”

  “You with the attitude. I’ll keep my Terminator 2 shotgun for now, thanks.”

  Athena offers Gunnar and Madison her guns. The .45-70 Marlin and the .44 Magnum.

  Gunnar shakes his head. Raises his fists.

  Madison accepts both weapons. Says, “Gunnar can’t hit shit anyway.”

  Gunnar steps back. Makes a face. Like, Well, fuck you too.

  Athena says, “We have to turn on the beacon. The lighthouse...light.”

  Madison says, “We can’t.”

  “Yeah, we can.” She cocks an eyebrow at Madison. “That’s what those shitty old computers are down here for. They determine where the energy goes. Recognized em as soon as I saw.”

  Madison buckles her gun belt. Tests the weight of the .45-70 and says, “Every damn time I asked about the lighthouse beacon, Norris told me we couldn’t.”

  Athena shrugs. “Well, I blew his head apart a little while ago. And he was probably just pissy-pants about energy distribution in the camp.”

  The door to the lighthouse basement rattles on its hinges down the hall.

  I zip up my carbon mesh suit. My jeans. My vest. Suck some whiskey. Tuck the bottle into a sleeve on my back. Light a cigarette. Slip the two new packs of smokes in where assault rifle magazines would go on my combat vest.

  I pat the Colt revolver on my right thigh. The M1911 on my left.

  Pull in a lungful of cancer.

  I say, “I’m so fuckin happy right now, you guys have no idea.” I cackle. Sling the bandolier of shotgun ammo over my chest. “Athena, you get on those computers. Get that beacon up. Call in the backup.”

  Madison says, “Who’s the backup.”

  I wiggle my eyebrows at her. Then Gunnar. Like Groucho Marx. “Get ready to meet the rest of the family.”

  A gunshot rings out. Down the hall. Some idiot trying to get in by shooting the door. The lock. Which doesn’t quite work the way most people think it does.

  I grimace. March out into the red-lit tunnel.

  Athena follows. Kneels at the first MS-DOS computer. Starts typing.

  Madison heads up a tall, curved stairwell at the other end of the hall to get a good vantage point with the Marlin. Doesn’t take her long. And already, I hear the gun splitting the night.

  Gunnar muscles up next to me. Nods once.

  I unlock the door. Kick it open. Hear someone oof on the other side. Step out. See a cultist on his back.

  He stares up.

  I say, “Hi!” Remove his face and most of his skull with a shotgun blast. Duck back inside. Shout to Athena: “The natives are restless.”

  Athena says, “You’re not helping.” Keeps at the keys.

  A wave of cultists stream through the open door. Men and women. Only a few have guns at this point. Most brandish melee weapons.

  Not too smart.

  I remove the first one’s midsection with buckshot. Swing the 1887 at the face of another. Rack the lever. Blow someone into individual cultist particles.

  Gunnar grabs me. Throws me back.

  I slide to a halt. “Uhh...kay.” Reload.

  Gunnar grabs a cultist by the face. Squishes their head to pulp. Hits another person and they simply stop being alive. Breaks another over his knee. Punches through a woman’s chest and grabs some other poor dope through the female’s leaking internals.

  I watch this all like some idiot child.

  Amazed by the cartoonish display of violence.

  Sporting a murderboner.

  Athena says, “Got it. We’re good.”

  The building thuds. Whirs. Unseen generators pump electricity up to the lighthouse.

  Gunnar punches a cultist so hard their neck snaps and their head wobbles at an odd angle.

  I shout: “Gunnar, move back. Up. To Madison.”

  The giant mutant of a man nods to us. Smashes another face into paste. Runs passed me and Athena.

  We cover his escape. I fill the hallway with buckshot. Athena sends 10mm rounds down-range. Short, controlled bursts.

  At this point, the bodies of the cultists are stacked high enough to form their own weird barrier.

  I pat Athena’s shoulder. Jerk my head toward the staircase behind us. Tug her a little so we can head away from the orgy of bullets and blood.

  She nods. Holds up a hand. Wait. Produces two silver, egg-shaped objects from her combat vest. Gives me one.

  I read the side: PROXIMITY FLASH GRENADE.

  Athena grins. Twists the top until a little LED light blinks. Then rolls it down the hall.

  I do the same.

  We turn tail. Climb the winding staircase to the lighthouse tower.

  Gunnar greets us with panicked eyes. He waves us to the outside walkway with waves and enthusiastic grunts. We pass the rotating lens—which nearly blinds us with its sweeping beam.

  Madison crouches behind cover by the metal railing. She wears a frown. Motions for us to get the hell down.

  Random bullets ping and pang nearby.

  Athena pops up for a heartbeat. Racks the underslung grenade launcher on the M41A. Sends a low-yield explosive out toward a group of cultists firing on our position.

  The grenade goes boom.

  The cultists stop shooting.

  Madison grabs me by the front of my vest. Brings me in close. Says, “I figured out why we weren’t supposed to turn on the lighthouse beam.”

  A monstrous bellow erupts from the darkness in the distance.

  I peek over cover.

  Two yellow-tinged titans surge under the surface of the water. They explode up. Breach. A hundred feet long. Their faces unfold like blooming flowers. Muscly mouths underneath. Bodies with two legs and a long tail. The goddamn leviathans roar again. Their bioluminescence matches the yellow of the sweeping lighthouse beam.

  I slump back down. Say, “Yeah, that’s a good fuckin reason not to turn it on.”

  7. Oh, You’re Fucked Now

  I pop a cigarette in my mouth. Eyeball the others. “Any ideas?”

  Gunnar grunts.

  Madison licks her lips.

  Athena reloads her pulse rifle’s grenade launcher.

  I chuckle. “Okay, glad we’re all on the same page.” I look to Athena. “How long till backup arrives?”

  She dips her hand from side to side. “Ten minutes.”

  I nod. “So we just gotta stay alive for ten minutes. We can do that.”

  The leviathans creep up the bluffs. The petals of their faces open and close. Slithery tongues emerges to taste the air.

  A group of six cultists meander toward em. Five adults in robes. One kid at the center.

  I say to Madison, “Fuck’re they doing?”

  Madison says, “Those are the priests. Cult elders. The truest believers among true believers. Fanatics among fanatics.”

  “And the kid?”

  Madison bites her bottom lip. “That would be master-in-training Dylan. One of the children Norris claimed had some special connection to the parasite’s ‘heavenly’ creations.”

  Killing the kid would be mercy.

  The leviathans stop. Separate a little at the arrival of these tiny, insignificant humans. Each titan moves to the side. Confused, probably, more’n anything else.

  The kid throws his hands out. Preaches: “Veni autem ut sacrificet mihi. I am here to serve.”

  I rub my face. “You gotta be fuckin kidding.”

  The leviathans wobble on their legs for a second. Look to one another. Sniff.


  Bark.

  Howl.

  Then whip their tongues out.

  One tongue takes the boy’s torso. The other, his legs.

  They crack the kid like a wishbone. Gobble up his screeching stupidity.

  The priests turn to run.

  We save our ammo.

  Watch as the leviathans rip and tear and munch on the cult elders.

  Gunnar grunts.

  The leviathans amble up to the lighthouse.

  Madison and Gunnar back away. To the staircase. Smart move.

  I stand. Wait for one of em to get close enough. Wave my arms. “Hola, bitches!” The flower petals on its head unfurl. Show me the reptilian skull underneath.

  Don’t see any eyes so I go for the next best thing. Unload buckshot into its mouth.

  Athena send a few 10mm bursts into the head. Then a grenade down its throat.

  Boom.

  Gotta get me one of those pulse rifles.

  The leviathan stops. Stutters. Coughs. It dips to the side to puke. Huge rivers of bile wrap around the base of the lighthouse. A moat of acid.

  The second leviathan pushes its brethren outta the way. Wraps its two arms around the base of the building. Sticks its head high in the air. And then—

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Athena says. “It’s humping the lighthouse.”

  She ain’t lying.

  Guess the real reason to keep the beam off wasn’t even to prevent monster-interest in the cult’s island. It was to stop monsters from trying to fuck a light source they mistook for a mating signal.

  Makes sense in a real weird way.

  The building throbs. Shakes.

  Two quiet whumps go off below.

  Madison looks to me from the stairs. “Monster dick just set off your traps.”

  I giggle. Crawl toward the stairs. “Yeah, well.”

  Dozens of cultists line up on either side of the humpy horror.

  They start praying.

  Madison says, “No, I mean it. There’s a critter cock pumping the hallway down there like some awful penis piston.”

  I got nothin.

  Athena joins us. “Maybe we can wait till it...y’know, finishes. Then it’ll wobble off and fall asleep or something.”

  I cock an eye at my daughter. “How would you know that?”