by Mark Tufo
“Well, I found you a helicopter,” I say, looking at the wreckage.
Mike stares at it for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “A little wax and it’ll be as good as new. We should be able to buff out the one or two dings it has.”
“A coat of paint wouldn’t hurt either.”
Mike chuckles. “I’m taking it that you pissed the demon off, or you wouldn’t have gone all kamikaze. So, what exactly did you say to it?”
“I’m not sure it’s exactly what I said, but more how I said it,” I respond.
I check over my body, making sure nothing is broken. Assured, I stand, feeling dizzy and reeling for a moment or two. Nearby is the monstrous form of Kalandar and some fat dude I’ve never seen before.
“Who is that?” I inquire.
“Weirdest fucking thing man, in the world I’m from”—I noted that he made sure to tap his chest as if to clarify that this multi-dimensional stuff was beginning to tear at his psyche and he wanted to be clear in the distinction of self—“his name is BT, and where I come from we are best friends. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times we’ve pulled each other out of a dire situation. But this version? In the world where he and a different Mike reside, he can’t stand me—I mean, the other Mike. And trust me, that dislike bleeds over to this world in a big way. I asked for help, man, and this is what the universe sends me. I’m not sure he can tie his shoe without help.”
Despite my pain, that elicits a smile.
I don’t feel like standing anymore, so I sit my sorry ass back to the ground. Mike squats next to me and fills me in on his adventures.
“Whistlers? Here?” I ask after he finishes.
“Yep, as if we didn’t have enough going on, right?”
I then fill Mike in on what happened on my end.
“You know, I think this is the real world as it’s meant to be,” I say, finishing. “It’s the first time I’ve been able to get away from that town without being pulled back in somehow. I wonder what it looks like now.”
“It could be, but I have a feeling we need to get back to the other existence if we’re going to find Trip.”
“That means another helicopter, huh?”
“I’ve not had great luck with helicopters.”
I look at Mike strangely.
“I got into one that Trip piloted.”
“Mike, I knew you Marines were crazy, but ….”
“I think we broke a record for shortest flight. Can you promise to treat our next ride better?” Mike asks.
“No promises.”
Mike looks to the sun settling further to the west. “I wonder if zombies or night runners or whistlers are in this world.”
I look toward Kalandar, who is idly scratching his nuts. Each one of them is as big as me.
“Do you mind not doing that?” I shout.
The demon looks over at me. “No, I do not mind at all.”
Turning toward Mike in disgust, I say, “I imagine if ball-scratcher there is still here, then it makes sense that they will be as well.”
“I suppose we should try and find a safe place for the night. Know of any nearby?”
“Well, there’s a cave just on the other side of the ridgeline, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” I answer.
“There’s a base nearby that looks empty. I think we should see what’s there,” Mike says.
“I can carry you,” Kalandar suggests.
“You’re not touching me with those hands,” I state.
Kalandar shrugs and turns away, his hand still busy.
BT had just sat down and is perturbed upon being told he needs to get up again. It seems he realizes he is a liability and is doing his best to pull his considerable weight.
It takes us the better part of two hours before we see the base perimeter, mostly because of my slow, plodding steps. I’m thankful that BT is also struggling, which takes away some of my self-imposed pressure to perform. I scope in and search the tents and vehicles for any sign of movement. I realize that it’s a pretty moot point, sneaking in—even getting much closer without being seen. Kalandar is fifteen feet tall and kind of stands out. With night not far off, we don’t have time to fully recon the base. After the other demon’s appearance and the memory of everyone clearing out, I highly doubt there’s anyone remaining within the county, state, or whatever they might call their invisible boundaries here.
Debris litters the camp paths. Clothes, weapon magazines, and a bevy of other items are strewn about, testimony to the haste of the prior residents’ departure. Pieces of paper flutter along in the light breeze, some blowing down the pathways until they catch on a stray tent rope or some other object. Shadows stretch from tents and tall poles in the late evening sun that is about an hour from setting. I pause just inside the base perimeter.
“I’m not sure we’ll find much here in the way of a secure location. As a matter of fact, I’m not sure we’ll find anything in the entire area in the time we have left,” I state.
“We could find the most secure place and let Kalandar do his thing,” Mike suggests.
“If there are not many, I can handle the night creatures,” Kalandar says.
“Okay then. I suppose there’s a command center somewhere in this mess. That will probably be our best bet,” I reply. “We can help as best we can.”
“What should I do?” BT asks. “There should be guns lying around. Should I find one?”
I look the big man up and down, really seeing him for the first time. He’s one of the largest men I’ve ever seen, both his height and girth. He’s puffing hard from the exertion of walking from the wreck to the camp. I then look at Mike questioningly. Mike shakes his head and purses his lips.
“Hey, I saw that,” BT says.
“We’ll find a place and then your job will be to stay out of the way,” I state, pulling Mike aside.
“You know, if we have to run, he’s toast. He’s a huge liability, especially if we have to fight on the move,” I say when we’re out of hearing range.
“Are you suggesting we just kill him here or abandon him? Believe me, there were times I wanted to do just that, but we can’t,” Mike responds with a tortured expression.
“No, I’m not saying that. I doubt I could just shoot him for no reason. I think I just more wanted to get that off my chest and make sure we’re all aware that our options are limited because of him.”
“I know. There’s just not much we can do about it. Jack, he’s …” Mike looks off. “He’s a version of a man I consider a brother. I don’t think I can leave him behind, no matter what is happening.”
“Just so he understands the risks for him as well.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s aware.”
“I wish we could just stash him somewhere. But, if we could do that, we’d all be stashed there as well,” I comment.
Mike glances away, staring at Kalandar. “Hey,” he calls to the demon, “do you think you could carry the big man on your shoulders and still fight?”
“He is big, but if he does not fall on his own, I can manage,” Kalandar answers.
“You know, if we were to take a section of tent and cut leg holes …” I say, looking from BT to the giant demon.
Mike starts laughing. “You mean we could make one of those baby backpacks?”
“Yeah, I was thinking of something like that.”
I smile at the thought of the huge man strapped to the back of the demon like an infant. Images materialize of him being swung around as Kalandar lays into a horde of night runners. It’s almost too much.
“We’d have to get him some kind of club, though,” Mike says, pondering. “I’ve seen zombies and night runners climb up on him from behind. BT wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“So, we find him something sturdy to swing. Honestly, he stands a better chance there than with us. We’ll fare better if we don’t have to keep watch over him,” I say.
With the scant time we have remaining until the sun vanishes, we tear
down a tent and cut a panel out of it. With Kalandar seated, we have BT stick his tree-trunk legs through the slots we cut. Ropes go over the demon’s shoulder with others tied around his waist. We then tie the big man onto the demon. His head and arms poke through the openings, essentially nestled in a rope and canvas cocoon. The laughter I’m trying to stifle hurts my sides, but it can’t be helped. Mike walks over and hands BT two metal poles. Kalandar stands, hoisting up the big man in the backpack.
I have a fleeting concern for what in the hell the big man will do if he has to pee, because he certainly isn’t getting out of that contraption easily. And I also wonder what Kalandar might do if he feels a stream of warm liquid running down his back.
“If we die tonight, this sight will be worth it,” Mike comments. BT looks somewhat grateful, although he also looks like he could chew through cables given the way his jaw is clenching.
“That’s definitely one for the scrapbooks,” I respond.
The air takes on a dim orangish-yellow hue as the sun kisses the horizon. We march through the camp, searching for a secure location in the scant time we have left. On the way, we find a myriad of equipment. Mike finds something that looks like a portable anti-tank rocket launcher. He stares at it, turning it over and around in his hands.
“Are you trying to find the ‘on’ button or the trigger?” I ask.
“No, just trying to see which end it comes out from,” Mike answers.
“Maybe don’t stick your face in front of either end. You wouldn’t think I’d have to explain that.”
“Okay, smart one, you tell me which end goes boom.”
Mike shows it to me—I’m grateful at least that he didn’t point it at me. I take a closer look at the object in his hands. The two ends look fairly identical, no arrow or indicator showing which way to point it.
“You might want to figure that out before using it,” I suggest.
“I suppose I could wait until we’re surrounded, then it won’t matter,” he states, a smile playing across his lips. He picks up another and hands it toward me. “Want one?”
“No, I’m good, thanks. You do know that it probably explodes out both ends.”
“Like the morning after Taco Bell. Yeah, I’m aware,” Mike responds. “Looking forward to it.”
“Just making sure.” Shaking my head, I add, “Marines.”
Mike stashes one and carries the other with his carbine. I’m more interested in the grenades I find here and there, stowing them on my vest. We continue our search. Behind us, the crunch of Kalandar’s footfalls follow, a tremor running through the ground with each one. He doesn’t necessarily hold to any of the footpaths but instead carves wide swaths through the encampment, leaving a line of ruined tents in his wake.
“I do not know if you care, but there is a tower to the north,” Kalandar states.
“What kind of tower? Like a castle tower? Is there a woman in the window with long hair reaching the ground?” Mike asks.
“No human woman would have hair that long,” Kalandar states.
“Where is it?” Mike inquires. “I have a thing with towers, too,” Mike adds as an aside to me.
“I’m not shocked,” I tell him.
“That direction,” Kalandar points.
I look in the direction, but the tents block any view past the avenue we’re currently on.
“Take us there,” I say.
Kalandar marches off in a straight path, crushing tents and everything else beneath his feet. Mike and I look at each other and then follow in the swath of destruction. Reaching the perimeter facing the ridgeline where the battle had been fought, there is a raised wooden platform about fifteen feet in the air. A ladder leads up to the platform, which is covered by a roof and surrounded by railings.
“Looks as good as any other place,” I say.
Mike nods and hands me one of the rocket launchers. With the last tip of the sun vanished below the horizon, he climbs up and I follow. At the top, we’re about eye level with Kalandar, who steps further out onto the plain. I’ve seen the demon fight, and he’ll need plenty of room. Those long arms and whatever he finds to flail about with could demolish our little haven in an instant. I hand Mike the rocket launcher and he leans both of them against the railing. The quiet is broken only by BT’s grunts and groans as he struggles to get comfortable inside his BabyBjörn. Just that bit of exertion seems to have taken its toll. But in fairness we’re all bordering on exhaustion. In a world that won’t relent we’re all being ground down.
“How about getting me out of this thing,” BT tells Kalandar, who summarily ignores him.
Mike turns to say something as darkness folds across the land, but the flash of portals appearing and vanishing in the valley interrupts whatever it was. Night runners pour out of the gates. They pause briefly, their heads turning as they sniff the air. Almost as one, the creatures turn their heads toward Kalandar and us in the tower. The night air erupts in shrieks as they launch forward to race across the valley floor.
Kalandar strides forward to meet the incoming horde. Just in front of him appears a thin, horizontal line of silver light. The beam quickly widens and rotates vertically, expanding into a sizable doorway. The light flares bright; Mike and I shield our eyes against the blinding glare. When our vision returns, Kalandar and his backpack baby are nowhere to be seen.
“Well, that was unexpected,” I comment.
“Where in the fuck did they go?” Mike asks at the same time. I can see the concern on his face. “This place seemed a lot safer a minute ago.”
Mike and I look at each other, our expressions indicating the knowledge that we live or die here. Night runners are racing across the ground and are nearly upon us.
“If they surround us, I have front and left, you have back and right,” I say, bringing my M-4 to bear.
Mike nods and looks at the oncoming mass. The stilts upon which the tower sits angle outward, which will give us a good shot at any who attempt to scale it.
“You think they’ll hold?” Mike asks, also looking at the supports.
“Sure, why not,” I respond.
“Feel free to lie at any point.”
I begin firing single shots into the night runners closing in on the tower. I don’t have a shit ton of ammo, and there are lots of the pale bodies screaming in the night.
Creatures fall as rounds strike flesh and bone in mists of blood. But, there are more behind to trample over the fallen. The night is filled with shrieks and the sound of gunfire. Mike and I are side by side, firing into the horde. Many are falling, but it’s not enough. They are quickly closing the distance.
Night runners pour around the tower, some leaping upward to grab hold of cross beams or the stilts themselves. They begin clambering up the sides like spider monkeys.
“Split up,” I call.
Leaning over the tower, my muscles and bones reminding me of their existence and that they’d rather not do this, I aim into the ones trying to reach us. Firing downward, I hit the nearest one in the top of the head. It hesitates as if contemplating what just happened to it. Then, slowly, it peels away and falls, scraping two below it from the pylons.
I place one round after another into the night runners scaling the tower. My carbine bucks continuously against my shoulder, the empty brass arcing to the floor or falling to the ground below. Creatures tumble from the tower like a waterfall of bodies, but still they close in, replaced by others in the dense crowd below. I can’t do much to hold them at bay as I have to keep switching from side to front. If we had four of us, this might be a cakewalk, but we two can’t hold them off for long.
“They’re getting closer, not sure how much longer this is going to work,” Mike yells, firing down into the mass scaling the tower.
“I know. We might need to find a vehicle and put some distance between us,” I return. “Do you see one?”
Mike pauses and glances quickly.
“I think I see one on the far side of the base. You think
we could whistle and it would come like Trigger? I don’t know how we’re going to fight through,” Mike counters.
“Yeah, that’s a thinker,” I shout, sending two more night runners from the pylons.
“Can you hold all sides for a moment?” Mike asks.
“I doubt it, but I can try. What do you have in mind?”
“I need to try it, I just do.” Mike glances at one of the rocket launchers leaning against a railing. I know what he has in mind and hope he somehow figured out which end goes toward the enemy.
“Do what you gotta do,” I say.
Mike lunges for the rocket launcher as I open up my mind. It’s instantly filled with images denoting a deep hunger, rage, eagerness. The creatures pause for a brief moment as I come into their existence, but then continue their relentless push. I form the image of the sun in my mind, the heat and the deadly rays, pushing the image out to the surrounding night runners, just as I did once before.
The hungry shrieks change to ones of alarm and fear. They pause longer as they contemplate the danger pushed into their minds. But then they realize that it’s still nighttime and begin climbing again. Mike has the rocket launcher poised over one shoulder, aiming it at the ground. I figure if he can clear a path on the ground, we might be able to quickly clear those on the ladder side and make our escape. Maybe.
With a quick check behind him to make sure it’s clear, he pushes a red button on the side of the small tube. Flame roars out of both ends. Instead of the expected explosion below, shards of wood rain down on my back. Looking up, I see splintered edges surrounding a hole in the roof. Through the hole, I see a trail of flame streaking upward into the sky, arcing as it loses energy. I guess it’s a good thing the rocket had an arming mechanism that required it to travel a certain distance before going live.
“Well, that worked out well,” I shout. “I guess you know which end is which now.”
“Not so much,” Mike counters, picking up the other rocket launcher.