Angela punched her fists through the roof underneath Rick’s feet. She withstood the heat just long enough to grab hold of a substantial bundle of shingles and ripped them free, opening up a gaping hole beneath him.
A tornado of smoke slammed into Rick, and for all his uncanny abilities, he yielded to it as any normal man would. The furious cloud, fueled by the burning corpses of the congregation, attacked his face, and he was forced to shield himself.
He dropped the razor.
Quickly, Angela snatched up the weapon. The next step was to decide where to plunge it. She couldn’t reach any of his vital organs from her position, so she considered settling for his knees, or maybe one of his thighs. However, she ended up focusing on the part of his body he prided the most. It seemed an appropriate point of attack, keeping in mind that it was Rick she was attacking.
She drove the metal sliver up between his legs, deep into the hanging flesh of his tender sack. Her cumbersome hand was the only thing that stopped the razor from continuing all the way up his body.
His burst genitalia oozed over her fingers. It looked as though she had tried to push her arm up through the bottom of a squid. She knew she had hit her mark right between his balls as she could feel their meatiness dangling on either sides of her fist.
Every section of his body tensed and shivered, like he had been overloaded and could explode at any moment.
Angela looked to Rick’s face, eager to witness the agony she had wreaked upon him. To her great disappointment and revulsion, he looked as though he was enjoying his mutilation. In fact, she recalled he wore a similar expression when they had sex. His cheeks were flushed and veins stressed like lightening up his neck.
She underestimated the tolerance for pain his scars had afforded him. Compared to what the beast had done, her attempted castration was but a pleasurable tickle.
He rocked his hips slightly, swallowing the blade an inch deeper into his scrotum.
“That’s the spot, Angela.” He smiled at her with bated breath, as if moments away from ecstasy.
Despite the gaudy masochism on display, Angela could tell Rick was bluffing. She knew his intricacies very well. Part of how she had survived their marriage was by becoming a student of his mannerisms. She knew every inflection his voice could take, and although he had attempted to mask it, she heard his secret pain in the dropped vowels of his speech.
She returned his smile like an obedient mate, and then pulled the knife toward herself, splitting the bulk of his groin in half. Every excruciating detail of the blade’s journey was broadcast through the nerves of his body as if it was a two-hour epic event. The razor’s edge glided through his muscle and severed his urethra near the root of his cock. In a spectacular explosion of red, the blade erupted from the looseness of his skin, snapping through his weighty member like torn elastic.
A healthy, red, waterfall gushed between his thighs. The profuse flow of dark blood seemed eager to drown Angela, but proved only ambitious enough to paint her arms and face.
Rick’s piercing scream announced his agony to the world and made the entire ordeal worthwhile. The whimpering that followed was just gravy.
Angela watched, partly in shock, as Rick’s trembling body curled into his drooling wound. He was a deflated man, with all of his mass reduced to the vulnerable coiling of a fetus.
When her mind finally caught up with her actions, she tossed the dripping razor into one of the fiery pits surrounding her and rose to her feet. She took advantage of Rick’s immobility and pushed hard against his shoulders.
His weightlessness failed him as he tumbled backwards against the roof. The shingles caved under him, and he plummeted into the tumultuous depths of the inferno.
Although she wanted to enjoy her victory, Angela was allowed only a brief moment of satisfaction. The structure of the roof was compromised, and soon, if she didn’t move with haste, it could claim her, too.
With balanced steps, she moved as fast as possible to the edge of the church. A quick peek over the wall revealed a guaranteed bone-shattering drop.
She lowered herself, timidly at first, until she found solid footing on the protruding ledge at the top of the stained-glass window. From that point, she lowered herself further, this time holding onto the ledge with her hands. Her body dangled precariously in front of the shimmering window, her face even with heaven. To her morbid amusement, the angels were on fire.
She considered falling from this height. Angela estimated there would be about a fifty percent chance of her snapping an ankle, though she had no experience to base this estimation on.
A countdown started in her head and when she reached zero, it would be time for lift off.
Five, four, three, two...
Before she could finish, there came a tapping at the window. Angela looked down.
Rick’s hairless, blistered body was pressed against the glass. Layers of skin had been stripped away, giving him a painful red hue, like the clichéd image of Satan. His swollen eyes caught her and he opened his foaming mouth.
The barrier between them, that nostalgic corner stone of coloured glass and simplistic faith, came crashing down like a magnificent fountain of glistening jewels.
Rick lunged from the sanctuary and wrapped his arms around Angela’s legs. His hot flesh stung her ankles. He snarled and clawed his way closer to her vulnerable midriff.
Like a worm on a hook fighting for its life, Angela thrashed wildly against the jaws set on devouring her as Rick continued climbing up her body.
She managed to deliver one knee against the side of his head, which momentarily stunned him. He dropped down her body to the level of her feet. Taking advantage of his loosened grip, Angela pulled one of her legs free and stomped on his face.
The force of her blow condemned both of them to fall.
As soon as Angela’s fingers slipped from the ledge, and the nauseous uproar in her stomach announced that everything solid in the world had been lost, she again considered her odds. The fall could shatter her skull, break her femur, knock her out, or perhaps, if she were taken pity on, maybe she would just land on her feet. Whatever the outcome, there was little she could do about it now.
She waited for the ground to make its decision.
CHAPTER 47
The first thing Angela saw when her vision returned, was a wall of flames. The church had reached full glow. For this, Angela was thankful; if not for the punishing heat, she may have remained unconscious until dawn.
She quickly checked herself for any new wounds – something she had become rather proficient at doing – but found no surprises. She got up from her soft bed of grass and scanned her surroundings for Rick.
Since she was still breathing, she assumed the fall had either killed him, or knocked him out. Neither proved true. There was no sign of him anywhere.
While the fire continued to gorge itself, Angela stepped out into the field. The air was cooler there, and her mind freer.
Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she spotted what she was looking for. Halfway across the field, where even the fire’s impressive glow couldn’t reach, was a naked man stumbling toward the Burward forest. He took small, plodding steps like a child, with both his hands clasped around his groin.
She wasted no more time deliberating her next move. She charged after him. Her body, that beleaguered collection of cuts and bruises, tore into the night as if fresh for a marathon. Of course, she knew the beast was waiting for her in the shadows. In fact, she was counting on it. Rick would lead her to the Behemoth, and the Behemoth would lead her to Alex. She had to follow, or be damned.
It was easy for her to keep pace with Rick’s lumbering steps, though she was careful to maintain a healthy distance.
A thunderclap rumbled behind her. She immediately turned to meet the storm, but instead saw the church crumble into itself. The roof fell first, followed by three of its walls. The sacred bonfire stretched to towering heights, far beyond that of the meager trees that framed it, a
nd far beyond any glory preached about in all its history.
Angela found herself mesmerized by the death of the church. The body of the building snaked up into the sky, wood and stone made lighter than air, tossed into nothing. She even imagined for a moment the streams of smoke were actually the souls of the condemned congregation. Maybe there would come a day, she supposed, that she would mourn them, perhaps even feel remorse for what she had done. But, for now, she just watched them climb.
As the fire’s hiss rolled through the field, echoing back on top of itself, Angela turned her attention solely to the Burward forest and the man who was about to stagger into it.
The rest of her journey through the gaping deadness of the field was uneventful, almost welcoming. Though she found herself drowning in night, guided only by the moon’s disposition, she, nonetheless, reached the edge of the forest without a single stumble.
The first peculiar detail she noticed was the utter absence of life. There were no paws trampling through leaves, no anxious whistles from high in the branches, no scratching sticks or shuddering bushes. The silence was so absolute, it was deafening.
She had marked in her mind the path Rick had taken. He didn’t enter the woods as she had expected, but rather traced along its exterior. She lost him when he lumbered around a protruding point that carved out into the field.
Her hands found what remained of the old fence. The wooden posts were mostly disintegrated, but a rusty wire still ran the length of the perimeter of the forest. She pinched the metal strand and headed toward the protrusion.
To her right was the field, still sparkling in the glow of the church. To her left, however, was a different matter. The woods intimidated her with their cold gaze and thin, scratching arms. The moon brightened the sky, but was not invited into the heart of the forest, where the emaciated trees crowded densely like spinsters with their secrets.
Then came a sound from the woods that seemed entirely out of place. Angela heard footsteps scurrying in the dark. Although the idea was absurd, she couldn’t deny it. Somewhere, hidden away, there was a group of little feet running through the woods.
She stopped and turned. The footsteps faded.
“Alex?” she whispered.
A terrible thrashing erupted in response. It sounded like a whirlwind of cracking trees, as if they were being decapitated by a flurry of ferocious swipes. It was the temper tantrum of a titan and Angela had never heard such pure rage. Not only that, but the song of desolation was getting louder.
Angela gripped the wire with both her hands; afraid she might be swept away by the oncoming torrent. She imagined the line of trees exploding from the force of the beast and her being trampled out of existence under its feet as if she were nothing at all.
In her determination to save her son, she had forgotten the enormity of the creature she hunted.
A tree shattered and fell toward her, smashing into the ground mere inches from where she stood.
The sudden shock of it sent her tumbling backwards. She managed to land on her side, and chose to remain very still. She lay in the dirt and waited for whatever had dislodged the tree to make its next move.
Nothing happened.
She began to question if maybe the tree had fallen by itself. Then, she received her answer. The Behemoth released a gruff exhale from its stony throat. The beast was looming just above her. She didn’t look up – she did not dare. Any movement, even the rotation of her eye could bring attention to her, so she played dead.
At least, by this point, her body was too tired to tremble.
She heard its giant limbs shifting, like the grinding of stones. It sounded as though it was returning to the forest.
Apparently, she played dead well.
Once she could no longer feel the tremors from its footsteps, she lifted herself up and stared into the tunnel of flattened trees the Behemoth left in its wake. It reminded her of when she was a child and a tornado ate up one of the farms outside of town.
Despite this, Angela had no choice but to follow the path the beast had laid out for her, especially now that her safety wire had been severed.
She stepped bravely into the passageway; resolute in her pledge to follow it where ever it may lead. Be it her death or her son that awaited her, she was marching toward the end.
CHAPTER 48
As she made her way through the corridor of fallen trees, Angela had not noticed the subtle curve of the passageway that led her back to the field. The walls were too gnarled and sporadic to allow her any orientation.
Eventually, she arrived at a small clearing, that had been hidden all this time, behind the dense, protruding arm of the forest. Like in the tunnel, the trees had been demolished, allowing for an open view of the field and, indeed, even the church.
She stepped out from the entangled archway and walked cautiously into the hollowed space. Once she was free of the path, she noticed the immense wood structure to her left. It was as tall as the beast and was held together by uneven nails. Flaking red paint dusted the tower’s exterior like it had been dipped in blood.
Angela circled the primitive temple until she arrived at its front, marked by an enormous opening. The structure gaped at her; its maw threatening to devour her. The darkness inside looked so infinite, it was like she suddenly realized she was standing on the edge of a cliff and had to take a step back, for fear she might fall in.
Though the tower would only give enough room for the beast to stand inside it, Angela knew this was its home.
Shuffling dirt announced the approach of someone through the field. Angela immediately ducked into the thicket and positioned herself where no one could see. A twig dug into her back, but it was too late to shift her body now, she had to bear the pain.
Rick came stumbling into the clearing. He crunched through the wood splinters until eventually he collapsed on his knees in front of the temple.
Angela watched with surprising pity, as Rick pawed obscenely at his mangled manhood, whimpering with every gentle stroke. One of his hands stretched upwards, as if reaching for the peak of the structure. A thick sleeve of blood dripped down to his shoulder.
“Dear god,” he whispered, “gentle Behemoth, ruler of wood and stone, of blood and bone, and keeper of my eternity, I pray. Your faithful servant has failed you, and I am undeserving of your mercy. But please, help me. Heal me! I beg you, do not forsake me!”
A deep moan like bending wood called out to him from the opening. It sounded sympathetic, but could just as easily have been a yawn.
The beast’s arm unfolded from inside the temple and extended across the width of the clearing toward Rick. Its jagged hand glided through the air like drifting milkweed.
Angela was, again, chilled by how silent the beast could be. She had been standing right in front of its home. Why did it not snatch her up? Perhaps it had been sleeping, or perhaps it didn’t care to. Either way, she was lucky to still be living.
Rick opened himself up to the beast’s caress. Its palm covered his entire chest, while its talons tickled his neck and shoulders. The monster’s touch seemed to put Rick at ease, as if his pain could simply be rubbed away. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
“Save your servant.” Rick’s voice was soft, as if he were speaking to his lover.
The Behemoth’s hand slid down to Rick’s waist and pressed firmly against his tenderness. He winced with pleasure, as its spindly fingers wrapped around him, pricking at his buttocks. If his cock had been in a more functional state, then a titillated gasp wouldn’t have been the only thing to have spilled out of him.
Suddenly, its grip tightened.
The beast’s other arm shot forth from the temple and took hold of Rick’s upper body.
Before Rick knew what was happening, it began to squeeze him. He could feel his bones buckle under the pressure, like wobbling support beams.
“My god,” he wheezed, with what little air he had. “I worship you!”
The beast’s grip did no
t falter. It didn’t even hesitate.
Rick screamed and flailed his limbs, as if it would make a difference.
The tiny, toy man was no match for the Behemoth’s mighty arms. It twisted both halves of his body in opposite directions. His hips popped first. Then, his stomach contorted as his intestines pulled tight. Bones shattered, snapping through tendons and muscle as they exploded like cherry bombs from the pressure. His front swung around to meet his back, and, finally, his spine cracked free of his pelvis. Once this last hold-out gave way, the squishy flesh that connected his two halves burst like a balloon of blood.
Red waves crashed against the fallen trees. Rick’s top half gargled on his own juices before both sections of him were tossed back into the field. With a dead thud, Rick was returned to dirt.
The Behemoth stepped out from its decrepit abode.
For the first time, Angela was treated to the full spectacle of the beast.
It looked old, very old. Like a thing born of stone and earth, yet somehow organic. It had human attributes, like legs and arms, though the proportions were distorted. The beast’s craggy torso hugged its ribs and dipped in around its stomach as if it had not eaten for years. Its coarse flesh balanced dark, grey tones as if it predated colour. Oversized eyes loomed from the harsh structure of its skull, that seemed to celebrate the viciousness of nature; every point that could be tipped with a horn, was. An equally fierce spine ran down its back. In the beast’s mouth were teeth shaped just like its talons. They hung from scabby gums like hundreds of thin stalactites, each one with a slight curl and dagger tip. It was almost reptilian, but that description, alone, would not have done its horror any justice. It was the thing that had inspired myths of ogres and dragons, and haunted fairytales since before they were put to paper. It was the beast that made us afraid of the night.
Angela took all this in with a single, staggered breath. Her limbs went numb. She could not deny it was an awe-inspiring sight to behold. She understood, now, how Rick had mistaken it for a god. It really was a majestic beast, but she worked hard to keep in mind that in the end, that’s all it was, just another beast.
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