by Adam Dreece
I take a few steps back. “I’m keeping what I have, thanks. Now get out of here, before I start shooting.” I’m gritting my teeth and blinking hard to ignore the pain. I feel like my chest just wants to burst open. Glaring at them as they stare back at me, each waiting for the other to make a move. As the pain sharpens, my head bobs for a second, and the big guy leaps at me.
episode four
The big guy’s hand-axe swings unexpectedly close, as I barely manage to get my cold molasses of a body out of the way. I try to stab him with my short sword, but I nearly fall over instead. What the yig? I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing. The big guy takes advantage of the moment, and with a solid slap from his free hand, he sends my sword flying.
Suddenly my legs are pulled out from under me. The two smaller ones immediately climb on to my back. The pain inside me is making me dizzy. It’s like my heart’s being crushed and my pistol arm is on fire.
The medium one latches her fingernails into my pistol hand. I scream, but refuse to let it go. If I lose that, I’ve got nothing.
Glancing up, I catch the big guy winding up to bring his fists thundering down on my head. Blinking past the pain, I shrug the small ones off and roll towards the medium one just in the nick of time.
She and I roll and tussle. She keeps trying to bite my face, and I keep trying to put my pistol in her face to make her back off. Her eyes are wild and furious, I can’t remember encountering people so raw and savage. I need a new strategy. She reaches for my eyes with those fingernails and I go with my gut instincts. I head-butt her, stunning her but in trying to scramble to my feet I fall back down onto all fours.
My head’s spinning, my chest is screaming, and then a wave of nausea rides in on top of everything. I bite my lip hard to keep me focused on the present. As a second wave of nausea hits, I realize what’s happening: magic’s failing.
Glancing up, I see the big guy and the rest of his family stagger for a moment, thrown off by the lack of magic in the air. Their magical disguises melt away. Their skin creaks like old leather as it tightens, their eyes hollow, and one by one, they turn at look at me in a portrait of horror. The big guy roars, immediately followed by the others.
“I freaking hate ghouls.” Taking a step backwards, I wobble, my arm jutting out to try and stabilize me. My vision starts to narrow and flashes of light start appearing. What the yig is going on? “No!” I yell at myself. “No freaking way I’m getting eaten. No way!”
As the big guy jumps at me, I point my pistol square at him and pointlessly pull the trigger. Suddenly all my pain and anxiety rushes from my core, through my arm, and out the pistol. In a fiery flash of blue, he drops. The kick-back is significant, but swiftly putting up my second hand to steady my aim, I drop the other ghouls without a second thought. Then, as suddenly as it came, the nausea passes and my heart is no longer trying to kick its way out of my chest. Magic is restored. Was all that connected? What the yig?
I run my hand through my hair, shaking my head in disbelief. “What just happened?” I stare at the pistol and then quickly scan about for any more of them.
Confident that I’m alone, I slowly approach the fallen ghouls. With my pistol pointed at their heads, I give them a nudge with my foot, and inspect the flaming wounds. It looks like they have been hit by flame strikes, as the wounds go clean through the body, are burn-sealed, and the edges have a small amount of blue flame.
Looking past them, I see two newly-splintered trees at the forest edge. “Freak me blue and call me a yigging idiot… How the yig did I do that?” That’s when the lovely smell of the dead ghouls hits me, and I lose whatever it was I still had in my stomach after all this time.
After pulling myself back together, I find my short sword and take a last look at the bodies. The good news is that I’ve survived; the bad news is that I don’t know if I can do it ever again.
episode five
Not having a better plan, I follow the winding road on and on, until my entire body is screaming for me to relent and at least sit and rest, if not sleep. Other than birds every now and then, I haven’t seen any signs of life. I’ve also found nothing to eat, and my stomach’s really not happy about it.
Coming over a small hill, I laugh with relief as the road mercifully offers up a large rock in a good spot. Climbing on top and satisfied that no one’s going to get the jump on me, I sit. Immediately, I feel the full weight of my exhaustion and my body slumps. Putting the sword and pistol down right beside me has my hands celebrating. Rubbing them, I peer around, taking in my surroundings. Unfortunately, the road ahead looks exactly like the road I’ve taken, dirt hugged by desolate forest.
Staring at the road ahead, I say to myself, “Should I turn back? Maybe try to make it through the forest?” Scratching my beard, I peek up at the orangey-red sky. “Night’s coming.” Yig, I forgot about night. How dead do you have to be to forget about the night? I slap myself a few times to wake myself up. I don’t like the prospect of finding ghouls, or worse, at night. Until I can figure out what’s wrong with this body and why my head’s not clearing up, I need to avoid trouble.
Sighing, I look at the flowers and plants near me. It’s got to be summer. Closing my eyes, I try to figure out how far north I might be, and more importantly, how many hours of darkness I’m going to face and just how dark it’s going to be, but… I’ve got nothing. Rubbing my forehead, I know I’ve got to press on. Every muscle and joint in my body protests as I pick up my sword and pistol and continue.
I keep my eyes peeled for any sign of a rabbit or a deer that I can turn into dinner. I figure sorting out how exactly I’d cook one will be a fun problem to have.
Several times I stop and prevent myself from looking back. Each time doubt creeps into my mind, I shrug it off, and keep putting one foot in front of the other. I remind myself that roads lead to places, they don’t just happen. Therefore, stay with the road, and don’t double back.
Two hours later, my feet are cursing my every step as I make my way up to the top of a large hill. I promise myself that I’ll rest for a good long while. The sun’s a thin red memory on the horizon, and the stars offer little other than a set of spectators for what’s to come. Staring out at the darkened landscape, I notice something shining. Wait, there’s several shiny things.
I crouch down quickly, not wanting to be seen. My mind goes through a few of the things it could be, from potential bandits to animals to water. My throat’s parched and sore. I’d easily kill for some water.
A few minutes go by with no change, and an eerie silence. Wiping my forehead, I go back and forth between whether to risk going down there, or staying up here.
“Yig it. I’m too hungry to stay and too tired to care.” I get up and carefully start down the hill.
A few yards into my descent, I realize there’s no forest on this side of the hill, only stumps and a few withered trees here and there. I bend down to the dark grass. It feels strangely crunchy. “What the yig?”
With a firm tug, I pull some out of the ground and examine it up close. I glance up at the dark sky and then look about, but there’s not enough light here to see this stuff properly. A chill runs down my spine when I rub it between my hands. It crumbles right away. It’s got a filmy residue. Sniffing it, it smells like… dry. Weird. A snippet of a memory flashes by, something about a banquet hall and the smell of happiness wafting in.
There’s definitely something mana related here, I can feel it. I scratch my face again. What could have happened here to create such a wasteland? Whatever it was, it’s probably long gone. At least, I hope so.
As I get closer, I see that the fleeting sunlight’s been bouncing off levi-cars, lots of them, possibly hundreds. They’re mostly in two rows, all pointing in the same direction — the direction I just came from. “Where were you going?” I wonder, and then I squint at them. “Maybe you were running from something.”
Several of the levi-cars at the front are banged into each other. There are a dozen
that went off the edge of the road and down into a ditch. I can’t see any windshields and the two closest to me have puncture holes right through the roof.
Hesitating for a minute, I decide to run my hand along the roof of one of the levis. The paint feels old and mostly rough, with a few smooth parts. That was probably what I saw shining. “Maybe the roof holes happened after everyone was gone? How did you all just stop here, in the middle of nowhere?”
Squinting into a few of them, a chill runs down my spine. They’re all still in gear, like the life was sucked out of them in an instant. “What the yig?” This is really starting to get under my skin.
Folding my arms, I lean against one of the levi-cars and stare up at the moon. It’s so quiet, there are not even bugs calling out to each other. Gazing about, I catch a glow in the distance and stand up straight, taking my pistol and sword off the roof. The fiery image goes out but the hair on the back of my neck goes up. Tilting my head and squinting hard, I wait for it. The glow reappears and seems to be wobbling and getting bigger. Yig.
Licking my lips, I look about in the falling darkness for somewhere to hide. Desperate, I climb quietly into one of the levis, cursing the door as it creaks.
My chest is getting that pressure again -- is that a good thing? I’m probably about to drop dead. Just what I need, dying in the middle of some freaky dead-zone because my head’s all scrambled up. I tighten my grip on the pistol like it’s my only hope of seeing the morning.
Now, I wait. I hate waiting.
episode six
I lay flat on my back on the floor of the levi-car. The seats are rotted and decayed into decrepit shadows of what was once luxury. I brace my feet against the side with my pistol clasped tightly in both hands.
The rushing sound of my own blood is driving me crazy. Each drop of sweat that falls onto the metallic floor nearly sends me into a panic. “Come on,” I whisper to myself through clenched teeth.
As much as I’d like to imagine that it’s nothing, or maybe someone walking around with an old-world torch, I know better. If I’m lucky, it’s someone I can talk to, but more than likely, only one of us is going to be walking away from this.
I reaffirm my sweaty grip on the pistol for the millionth time, and shake my head, trying to stay focused and ready. My ears perk up as I pick up the sound of shuffling, back and forth. It sounds big judging by how long the shuffle seems to take. Then, there is the distinctive sound of claws scraping along the sides of a levi-car.
There’s a screech that sounds like a thousand souls being ripped from their bodies. My blood goes ice cold. Even through my jumbled memories, I know a carn when I hear one. “No, no, no,” I whisper to myself. “How the yig can I deal with a carn?” Shutting up and listening carefully, I hear it moving in very measured steps.
Think. Yig, it’s mapping the area. They do that when they’re alone and they’re hunting for prey. At least that means it’s alone. Not like I have a chance though, but I know I’ve got a minute to think.
I run a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. “Come on W—” My mind skids to a stop again. I almost felt like I had my name there. “Okay… What do I know? It’s got skin that’s yigging tough, a dead mage’s skull to focus its mana, and…” There’s some mess of thoughts about magical experiments but I can’t make any sense out of it.
I suppress a laugh. “One huge, smart fire monster against my knife and pop-stick. No problem.”
Carefully, I shift my body to give me a better look out the windshield. Pressure’s building in my chest again, though thankfully there’s no nausea, at least not yet. My hands are shaking like wind chimes in a tornado. This body’s all wrong.
The darkness on the left side of my levi-car is slowly pushed back as I catch a glimpse of the carn’s fiery head. Orange and white flames surround its bleached skull. I watch as it lumbers into view, coming up to the levi-car in front of mine. With a mighty clawed hand, it caves in the roof. The metal frame whimpers as the carn rips it to pieces without a second though. A memory skids past me, something about being nearly burned alive by a carn. Was that me or a story I heard? Maybe something I saw, once? It doesn’t matter, now I’m definitely not letting it get close to me.
Just then the carn’s flames bloom outwards, arcing through the air and then coming together on that levi-car. I can see metal parts slowly surrender their form in the intense heat. The carn’s not looking at it though, it’s searching. It knows I’m here, and I think it wants me to watch the show. I hate freaking smart creatures.
I’ve held my breath so long I’m starting to see my own stars. The carn goes on to a levi further ahead, and I suck in as much air as I dare.
My stomach’s turning into a raging knot of agony. I’ve got that watery feeling in my mouth. Yig, am I really going to puke now? What a way to die… Wait, that’s not it. My eyes go wide as I realize what’s about to happen. Yig it, I’m going for it.
Kicking open the levi-car door, I scramble out and skid to a stop, my pistol pointing straight at the carn’s chest. It whips around and glares at me, the empty eye sockets of its mage-skull burning brightly with orange flame.
I swallow hard as I realize just how yigging huge these things are. It’s over eight feet tall and muscular like a giant warrior with three-clawed hands. Its head sits on a strange looking black layer where a person’s collarbone would be.
In the time it takes me to dash a few yards, the carn picks up a levi-car and throws it at me. I dive low to the ground and it sails over me. Rolling to my back, with both hands wrapped tightly around the pistol, I pull the trigger and… nothing happens.
“No!” I scream like a mother being ripped from her daughter. I keep pulling the trigger again and again. My stomach drops so hard and fast, I think I’m going to pass out. Just then, all that pressure in my chest races through my arm and out the pistol. Flaming blue balls shoot out the barrel and I’m thrown back. I catch a glimpse of the carn’s flames dousing just before they hit. “Let’s see how you do without any magical shielding, carny.”
Scurrying back to my feet and snatching my pistol off the ground, I keep my eyes on the bent over carn. I take a second to shake out my fingers and wrist, which feel like I’ve stabbed a hundred needles in them.
The carn lurches to one side, then the other. It drops to one knee, but clearly isn’t dead. With a moan, it stands back up, a claw covering a burnt part of its chest. As its flames come back to full strength, it emits a sound that feels like a laugh. I don’t need to think about my stomach to know that magic’s back. “Yig me.”
I point the pistol at it again. Without thinking or hesitation, I’m surprised to see another blue shot come out, knocking the carn on its heels. With a quick glance at the levi-car where I’d left my short sword, I decide I’ve got only one chance and bolt in the direction the levis had come from. I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going, except that I’m not going to get ripped apart and burned to death by the carn, not today.
episode seven
I fall down and lie there in the middle of the road. My feet refuse to take me any further, and I can’t blame them. I reneged on our agreement, after all. I shield my eyes from the brutal early morning sun. “I should wake up any minute night, right? In a nice bed with breakfast sausage smells and everything, right?” I’m disappointed no one answers. There’d be some solace in knowing I’d gone crazy. At least I’d have company.
Sitting up, I glance over my shoulder at the dusty road. There’s a mile of nothing. Still, I doubt I’ve killed it. There wasn’t a single shot that had gone clean through it. Tough yig, that thing.
Grunting like a broken, old man, I start to stand up but then abandon the idea half-way. My arms perched on my knees, I squint up at the sky. I have a feeling like I’m looking for something, but I don’t know what. I can’t even remember who I wanted revenge on or why. Did I even know after I came back to life this time? Even my recent memories feel strangely fuzzy. Looking at my arms, I wonder why I so des
perately want those tattoos to reappear. “Gah!” I scratch my head hard and then pick up a rock and throw it at the desolate wasteland. “Stupid yigging crap.”
Smoothing down my beard, I find a few stowaway pebbles and twigs. I don’t know why, but I start chuckling. It feels good to laugh. Rubbing my face with my rough and dusty hands, I decide it really is time to get up. Yig, I would kill for something to drink or eat. My throat feels like a carn is crushing it.
Peeking up at the blazing sun again, it dawns on me that I need to be smarter. There’s no telling how long it’s going to take me to find some civilization or water. Pulling off my shirt, I wrap the filthy thing around my head.
I imagine what I must look like: a wild eyed, shirtless bandit with a long-barreled pistol. The blood-stained brown pants and shoes a beggar might throw away really add that special something. I stare at the long road I’ve already covered and think back to the carn and my sword. I shouldn’t have left that behind.
With an arched eyebrow, I stare at the eerie scenery: the weird, melted, brown grass, withered trees and dusty roads. There are some scorched outlines along the ground at the road-side, almost like reminders of buildings long gone. Licking my cracked lips, I shrug. I’m not up for investigating it. I’ve got one thing on my mind, the short sword.
Staring at the long road back, I get butterflies thinking about the carn. I was lucky to get away once, what are the chances I can do that twice? I’m certain that if I don’t go back for the sword now, I’ll have lost it forever. But the chances of finding food and water along the path back are zero. “GAH!” I scream at the top of my lungs. Instead of relief, I just get a scratched throat. I need to stop being an idiot.