Ravage

by MacCraw

  “What’s the purpose of your visit, besides catching up with your longtime comrade?” asked Kirkley.

  “Well, this is Su’s way of speaking to you”, Poet replied. “It sent me as a damn messenger, even though I’d rather be working out or something. Though given my current physical condition, I don’t think that exercising would be beneficial.”

  “You said Su was speaking to me”, Kirkley said, “Why? What’s so important about me over everybody else?”

  “Don’t worry, you’re not the Chosen One or some shit”, Poet chuckled. “It’s because you have what us folks beyond death call ‘The Gift’ – you have survival instincts far beyond anybody else’s. Su believes that you’ve got the potential to make it through this mess. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go scare the shit out of your neighbors.”

  “You’re still cleaning that shit up, you realize?!” Kirkley yelled as he faded back into consciousness.

  …

  Unlike the aftermath of his previous dream, Kirkley woke up peacefully without any fright despite how much more vivid and disturbing his dream was compared to the romantic tragedy dream.

  It did, however, leave Kirkley with a lot of unanswered questions. Perhaps the most important was what exactly did the spirit of Su see in him? How about why he kept having dreams about people he’d lost?

  At least Poet’s sense of humor didn’t decay with her corpse.

  The relative peace in the physical world came to an end when a lone wolf soldier was spotted striding down the road, searching for prey. Fortunately it hadn’t spotted Kirkley, but Kirkley got a good look at the beast. It looked the same as any other dog soldier; 7 feet tall; the body of a man with the head of an oversized, shaggy wolf; claws sharp enough to decapitate a human, and a body riddled with bullet marks and dried blood. Despite the overwhelming urge to open fire on the monster, Kirkley didn’t feel like getting into an engagement, so he opted to leave the dog alone.

  About half an hour after it went off into a different part of the city, Kirkley knew it was time to saddle up and move out; he’d had enough of this goddamn city.

  …

  Although he hadn’t actually set it nor have planned for it, Kirkley reached his destination: a German garrison that had clearly prepared for conflict, whether from the British invasion or from the dog soldiers they had inadvertently brought with them. The base had multiple layers of fencing, with barbed wire on top of and in front of the fences. There were several turrets with emplaced weapons and snipers ready to pick off anything cocky enough to assault the fort. An entire battalion of foot soldiers and several armored vehicles were also on alert status. What caught Kirkley’s attention was a quartet of military transport trucks that appeared to be preparing to move out and onto the frontlines. The trucks were lined in single file, and each one was loaded with different types of equipment and perishables. The front truck was loaded with boxes of ammunition, both for small arms and for tanks and light armored vehicles; the second being filled with medical supplies and food for the troopers on the front; the third being empty to accommodate a squad of soldiers, and the fourth being full of fuel. This was the opportunity Kirkley was waiting for. Being in a German military uniform gave Kirkley another tactical advantage, for it meant that he was able to seamlessly blend in with the other soldiers, but his weakness was in speech – he didn’t speak any German whatsoever, so body language in the forms of nods, shakes and salutes were crucial to avoid any suspicion.

  Without hesitation, Kirkley casually walked out onto the road and through the front gates of the garrison. Unsurprisingly, the tanks and soldiers didn’t train their weapons on him; they viewed him as one of their own despite how radically opposed he was in comparison to them. Kirkley was somewhat nervous, however, since he was now surrounded by dozens of armed soldiers and tanks, and one wrong move would cost him his life. Kirkley kept at a steady pace, keeping his weapon lowered and his finger off of the trigger as he casually strolled over towards the fuel truck.

  The dangerous moment came when a soldier stepped in front of Kirkley. Judging from the attire, this man was probably an officer. The officer began to speak in German, and although Kirkley couldn’t understand an entire word spoken by him, the man kept gesturing towards the fuel truck. He wasn’t playing Charades, but it helped Kirkley, who nodded in response before climbing up into the truck. Kirkley tossed his bloated pack onto the passenger seat as he buckled himself in and prepared to move out.

  10 minutes later, the convoy went in motion. Kirkley put his foot on the gas pedal, and followed the other vehicles up until he was out of sight of the sentries; the moment they disappeared from the mirror, Kirkley made a sharp left turn and was off in a flash, now en route to Italy with a backpack full of utilities, and a truck with enough fuel to get him across the country.

  …

  In another region of Hamburg, two men and one woman were left cold, starving, hurt and betrayed by a man that they had looked up to for the longest of times. Without the guidance of Kirkley, they were left to fend for themselves without a solidified plan or centralized goal. Although no “leader” had been elected, Kylie reluctantly assumed command, since she had memorized most of her former group’s tactics.

  “I can’t believe he fucking left us”, Royce sighed as he dragged himself along through the desolate city. “Left us with little to no ammo; tired and hungry and frightened in a world thundering through a fearsome war between two global superpowers and half-wolf-half-human abominations bolting around and devouring anything that crosses their path.”

  “Look, if anything it’s taught us to rely on each other. Kirkley once said that alone we are nothing, and together, we are everything. Each person functioning properly is what makes a team”, said Kylie. “Anyways, fuck Kirkley. Little twat probably won’t make it very far without us.”

  …

  Kylie was laughably incorrect; Kirkley had gotten very, very far. 7 hours after departing Hamburg, he had already driven over 1,000 kilometers towards Venice, only stopping to refuel his vehicle once at the Austria-Germany border, and had reached his destination: the majestic country of Italy. And he had quite the welcoming party.

  The entire border was heavily armed and defended. As far as the eye could see, what appeared to be the entire Italian Army or a damned large portion of it were prepared for anything, and Kirkley began to sweat as he noticed the Centauro tank destroyers and Ariete tanks turn their tremendous turrets towards him. Kirkley nevertheless remained calm; as calm as one could be when over a dozen tanks were targeting a truck filled with oil drums and jerry cans. He slowed down and came to a complete stop next to the guards, who began to speak to him in Italian, but similar to his issue with communicating with Germans, Kirkley had no clue what they were saying to him. His only viable option was to start speaking in English, since the Italians weren’t presently at war with Germany, and there was also a possibility of one of the Italian soldiers speaking his language.

  After babbling with the Italians, who were equally as puzzled as Kirkley was, a miracle came in the form of a young Italian man politely pushing through his mates and shouting, “What do you need, sir?”

  “My name is Kirkley Rutland”, Kirkley said. “I’m a refugee from England, and a survivor of the wolf soldier apocalypse initiated by the eternal eclipse that darkens our skies. My country has currently invaded Germany, and in order to survive I had to take a German uniform and hijack a German supply truck to get here from Hamburg.”

  “Adelmo Allieri”, the soldier smiled as he shook Kirkley’s hand. “What is the nature of your visit here?”

  “I got a lead that some sort of game-changer was being produced down here; something to give us an edge over the wolf men. I want it”, Kirkley answered.

  “First my superiors will need to ask some questions.”

  “Questions along the line of…?”

  “You came from wolf-infested territory, and just escaped a warring country”, Adelmo explained. “Obviou
sly you are immense interest to us. Just answer a few questions and we’ll accommodate anything you need.”

  “Do they speak English like you and I?”

  “I’ll see what I can do”, Adelmo nodded.

  …

  Kirkley was given an armored escort to a large building that definitely gave off a “government” vibe. Adelmo led Kirkley into the building, up the staircase, and into a conference room where two officials and bodyguards armed with Kirkley’s signature weapon, the SPAS-15 shotgun, were waiting for him. After a salute, Adelmo and his superiors conversed in Italian, and the outcome was Adelmo’s departure down to the lobby.

  “You lads understand what I’m saying, right?” asked Kirkley.

  “Yes, sir”, replied one of the officials in a thick Italian accent. “We have some questions we need you to answer for us.”

  “Fire at will”, said Kirkley.

  “Now you say you are from England, yes?”

  “Mhmm-hmm.”

  “You’ve encountered these wolf men?”

  “Yup.”

  “Have you been wounded by them?”

  “If I had I would’ve ripped your chests open and eaten your hearts by now, huh?”

  One of the guards raised his shotgun at the perceived threat, but the official standing behind him immediately lowered the weapon.

  “Now, you said Germany declared war on your nation?”

  “More like the other way around, but whatever. They’re still pounding the piss out of each other with 155’s, 120’s, and 5.56’s. …You have no idea what I just said, do you?” Kirkley sighed.

  “So there were not incidents of friendly fire?”

  “If they fire at me it isn’t friendly, and I’ll fire back; it’s as simple as that. Now is there anything else you need to know?”

  “That should cover it, sir. Allieri will escort you to our facility 5 miles away, where you shall receive what you’re looking for to fight off the wolf men”, the man smiled, bowing to Kirkley as the two men stood up.

  Kirkley’s new translator, Adelmo was waiting for Kirkley out front in a infantry fighting vehicle specifically requisitioned by whoever had taken interest in Kirkley, their new high value individual.

  …

  The drive took a while as the IFV rolled across the vast Italian countryside. With nothing productive to do, Kirkley gazed out the viewports of the IFV, where he was surprised to see a nation that hadn’t fallen into absolute turmoil. The civilian farmers and ranchers continued about their humdrum routine as normal despite the fact that the sun hadn’t shown itself in years and the lands were shrouded in darkness.

  “How come those lot aren’t going bananas?” Kirkley asked.

  “We have every border of our country heavily guarded with an impregnable line of tanks, foot soldiers, light armored vehicles, emplaced turrets and artillery cannons”, explained Adelmo; “Nothing gets through without our permission.”

  “I hope you’re right”, Kirkley replied. “I really do.”

  The transport arrived at its destination, which Kirkley immediately knew was the place, the place that the dead soldier in Fort Ybarra had mentioned. Inside was the solution to the wolf soldier dilemma. The text on the wall of the building was in Italian, but just like with a person’s inner personality, it was what was inside that counted. The door opened, and Kirkley followed Adelmo and the other soldiers inside.

  What Kirkley imagined being a massive science-fiction laboratory was actually a large warehouse with numerous booths; each one had a banner over it displaying a written message in different languages. The ones in English were labeled “Shotgun” and “Rifle”, and the stands followed a pattern of two English stands, two in Chinese, two in Russian, two in Italian, and so on; a very convenient and useful consideration.

  Being an enthusiast of shotguns due to the tremendous firepower that they offered, Kirkley and Adelmo walked up to the shotgun stand, where an Italian man with Korean ancestry and an American man who had emigrated to Europe either during, before, or after the Drone Wars were both patiently waiting for their next “customer”.

  “Can we help you?” the white man asked in a dialect hard for Kirkley to interpret.

  “This is the one who made it past them”, Adelmo explained. “He’s to be treated as a ‘VIP’, yes?”

  “Indeed”, Kirkley grinned.

  “Right this way, sir”, the American gestured as he led Kirkley into a back room full of tables with a mind-blowing number of shotguns from across the world. Kirkley’s interest fell upon a shotgun wrapped in a pixelated camouflage and equipped with a barrel-attached adapter that went under the handguard of the weapon and permitted a foregrip/flashlight combination to be attached for additional control, and extra light in the dark forests.

  “What’s this magnificent piece of art?”

  “I had a feeling you’d take a kink to that”, the American man remarked. “I used it myself when I did mercenary work in Shavod a few years before the sun decided to play hide-and-seek with the world. Auto-Assault 12; AA-12 for short. Can and will tear through anything you aim it at.”

  “So is that the whole purpose of this little arrangement? Just to divvy up guns to the people who actually make it here alive?”

  “You’re partially correct”, said the Italian-Korean. “A farmer reported being attacked by a dog man in his home, and in a desperate attempt of self-defense, he thrust his silver fork into the chest of the creature. Surprisingly, it moaned in pain as the teeth of the fork penetrated its skin, and a pale greenish fluid began to visibly spread through its skin before it ran off.”

  “So wait”, Kirkley asked, “Silver kills these things?”

  “Or at least takes away their immortality and allows them to be killed by conventional means.”

  “So are we supposed to get bayonets and thrust ‘em into the wolves?”

  “No, we’ve got a better idea”, the American answered. “Hand me those pliers.”

  Kirkley reached over and handed the man his pliers, and he immediately began dismantling a shotgun shell. The end result was the emptied internals of a standard 12-gauge shell, but in the place of typical lead buckshot pellets, there were silver ones in their place.

  “This is the newest design in anti-wolf soldier weaponry”, the American remarked.

  “Why are you giving me such a destructive device?”

  “Because you’re gifted”, Adelmo explained. “Not by us, but by the spirit of Su. Su has told us to grant you whatever you need to finish your journey, and to save us all from the wolf soldier army of Sat.”

  “And what would that journey be?” asked Kirkley. “I don’t have a single bloody clue what I’m doing. I thought getting here was my journey.”

  “It was a milestone in it. We now need you to find and destroy the Shrine of Sat-“

  Kirkley started bawling with laughter, gasping for air each second as he bellowed in amusement. Kirkley wiped away his hysteria, and turned to give the three men next to him a serious answer.

  “No. I don’t know where the damned thing is.”

  “…I have an idea…” Adelmo nervously stuttered.

  “Spit it out and quit choking on it”, the American harshly replied.

  “Somewhere in MEC controlled territory.”

  “Oh, now you’re joking!” the Italian-Korean arms dealer remarked as he rudely shoved Adelmo.

  “I don’t think so”, Kirkley snarled as he put himself between Adelmo and the men bullying him. “First off, the two of you twats outta lay off of him. Second, I had a nightmare set in Sadiz, so that doesn’t sound too far-fetched.”

  “Do you know how to get to it?”

  “Look, my wi- I mean, Hannah, took me on a cruise across the Caspian Sea, and I think we landed on the shores of Iran, at the abandoned city of Sadiz”, Kirkley explained. “If you have a chopper, flying is NOT an option. My friend Logan tried flying during this blinding eclipse, and he’s dead now.”

  “Sorry for your loss, f
riend”, Adelmo sighed, nodding in respect.

  “He’s in a better place. His soul was pure and clean”, Kirkley replied. “But given how geographically distanced we are from Sadiz and the Caspian Sea as a whole, it’d take a long time to maneuver around Europe to a launching point from the Sea. And one more thing: how the bloody ‘ell do you know I’m your gifted one, destined to destroy the Shrine of Sat and save the world?”

  “We don’t know; it is what we choose to believe”, the Italian-Korean said. “And besides, there’s never been any reason to think that conventional weaponry couldn’t destroy a shrine tethered to the strength of an otherworldly being with powers that exceed the limits and laws of time and space.”

  “So what do you and your pizza-tossing government have planned?” Kirkley sarcastically remarked, entering another moment of self-centeredness and lack of care or consideration for anything but himself.

  “We’re loading the carriers with our armored units and mechanized infantry”, Adelmo explained, doing his best to ignore Kirkley’s insult. “We plan to do the inconceivable: we’re invading the Middle East.”

  “Look, no offense”, Kirkley sighed, “But you can launch your invasion without me. I’m better off on my own.”

  “No, you’re not”, an all-too-familiar female’s voice announced. Kirkley shut his eyes and let his shoulder-slung weapon swing down to a rest next to his arm.

  “You need us.”

  “I got this far without you, now didn’t I?”

  Kylie lunged forward and slugged Kirkley in the back of the head, but immediately embraced him.

  “What in Su’s spirit?!” Kirkley exclaimed, visibly and audibly alarmed by how the three closest individuals he had to family members had tracked him down all the way from northern Germany, and during the middle of a fearsome conflict between their nation and its neighbor, no less.

  “You’re a part of our pack, Kirkley”, Kylie cried. “I know you’re hurt by the death of Pack, and of Poet, and especially of Hannah, who I miss dearly. But do you know how frightening it is to imagine you getting killed?”