AFTERTASTE

by Scott, Kyle M.

  Before the kid had even fallen, Tim was charging the bastards that held down his friend.

  It happened too fast to comprehend.

  One second her Auntie Lyn was pinching her erect nipples and jeering at the impending horror, and the next second, her head was spinning through the air. Her hands fell limp from her breasts as a river of blood washed her body red from the stump of her neck.

  Above her John’s eyes widened in horror as he let out a pined gasp. His grip on her shoulders loosened then fell away as he toppled to the side, his hands stretched behind him, clutching at his back.

  Above him, stood Tim, a rage and hatred painted his face.

  Uncomprehending, she watched as he leapt over her form, and with one well-placed kick, he unseated her father from his position above her.

  She heard her father’s jaw crack, and had a moment to see his eyes dim, as he, too, toppled to his side and hit the hard, tiled floor with a wet smack.

  The tall man moved forward, no longer a man at all...more a deranged merging of man and insect, rot and corrosion.

  A child’s sketch of the monster under the bed. Formless and timeless and utterly maleficent. A hundred black, insect eyes reflected back her own terrified face as the creature tensed to strike.

  “NOW, SLIM!!!” Tim screamed from her rear.

  With trembling hands, Slim reached for her boot, teetering on sheer panic.

  Luck was on her side.

  The dagger remained.

  She pulled it free, feeling its power surge through her entire body, illuminating her spirit.

  Sensing the immense power that had till now, remained concealed, the masses in the restaurant fell into deathly silence.

  The cavorting, killing, fucking horde froze as one, in the endless moment, and a hundred insane faces fell on her from the blood-frenzied crowd.

  Above her, the dark being bore its fangs. Its black, spider-like eyes oozed malice as it tensed its claws. Its flesh writhed in a frenzy as, beneath its skin, terrible life shivered.

  The formless nightmare was almost upon her, its deadly claws poised to tear her apart.

  It had seen the dagger.

  The charnel pits of its endless eyes seemed to register its shock.

  Its fear.

  This ends here.

  Slim reclaimed her senses.

  Her power.

  “DO IT!!!” Tim screamed.

  Slim lunged forward, swinging her arm wide.

  The dagger seemed to cut through the air before her, leaving behind a trembling in the very atmosphere, as though cutting through invisible waters; a light, almost unendurable, shimmered in the wake of its trajectory.

  A vapour trail, that shone luminous and with a terrible beauty.

  Blinded by the all-encompassing light, Slim struck.

  Tim fell back on his heels, the light seeming to hold a physical power; a force that could damn or bless.

  Awestruck, he watched in wonder from the soup of the dead and dying in which he lay, as Slim, looking for all the world like a holy warrior plucked straight from ancient lore, struck the demon down.

  The dagger passed through its black heart as though the temple of its flesh was no more than smoke and ash.

  There was a blinding flash of light, so bright that Tim feared he would never be able to scrape the tattoo of its intensity from his inner eye.

  From within the impossible luminescence, he heard a wail.

  A thousand cries of anger, pain and fury.

  The sound of buzzing flies rang deafening through the corridors of his psyche as the dark being flailed in its pain and fear.

  Through the dancing, brilliant light, the beast twisted and writhed, as piece by piece, it came apart like black leaves on furious winds. The worms that had burst forth from its flesh squirmed by its feet and rotted as their host’s power was extinguished. Its countless baleful eyes melted and ran down its infernal visage. The rows of deadly fangs slid from bubbling gums and clattered to the floor. Piece by piece, the screaming, roaring entity’s flesh dissolved around its bones, before they too melted and turned to stinking muck.

  Soon, there was no more of the creature left for the celestial light to claim. All was dust and ash.

  And then all was silent.

  As quick as it had come, the light faded; its majesty seeming to snuff out as would a candle under a delicate breath.

  In time, Tim’s vision returned.

  He saw Slim.

  She stood before him, somehow taller, more muscular. Her hair seemed to dance on the still air, charged with electric fire.

  In her eyes he saw renewed strength, and a great sadness, tempered by a newfound awakening of power.

  As he looked into the eyes of this beautiful, courageous and magnificent woman, she seemed to smile.

  Just a flicker of one, and just for a moment.

  She reached out for him, with open hands.

  EPILOGUE

  The restaurant was quiet.

  Silent as the dead that surrounded her.

  There had been no fight...no great battle with the fallen souls of her townsfolk; her neighbours, her school friends, children and parents, trusted and loved.

  On seeing their master cast to the ethereal winds, all had crumbled to the floor. Void of all strength, their vicious copulation ceased in the blink of an eye, as they withdrew themselves, or their weapons, from one another.

  Brittle ash rained from the air, coating all; the last remnants of the fallen beast. A black, silent snowfall that brought all to a terrible halt within a winter of the soul, that could never be cast aside by any amount of warming sunlight.

  The living had merely watched with helpless fear, as one by one, they had fallen under Slim’s dagger and Tim’s machete.

  None fought back.

  None even blinked upon the moment of their death.

  They all just accepted it...as rent of humanity in their last moments as they had in the final hours of their lives.

  She felt no pity, as she tore through them. Felt no remorse, even as she struck them down where they lay on the scarlet floor.

  She felt nothing.

  These were not people.

  Not anymore.

  Looking at Tim, as he surveyed their dark work, she knew he felt the same way.

  There would be a time for sadness, for loss, and for sleepless, sweat-soaked nights.

  A time for deep remorse and reflection.

  This was not that time.

  It was over.

  Almost.

  Slim looked her father in the eyes, searching for any sign of the man she had loved. Silently praying to whatever gods lay beyond the veil, that he could be saved. That he could be brought back from the darkness.

  His eyes were every bit as dead and grey as all the rest.

  She saw herself reflected in them, as she stood before him. And in her own face, she saw the spectre of her long dead mother.

  Strong. Wilful. Brimming with love and life.

  Her mother was smiling, and in her smile, a quiet sorrow mirrored Slim’s own.

  She was already an orphan before she stepped aside, and turned away, allowing Tim to finish the work.

  This one, she felt keenly.

  It was mercifully quick.

  Her father, like the rest, died in silence.

  The only sound was the sound of his body falling to the floor as Tim put him down forever.

  As his corpse met the tiles, Slim made for the door, and for the freshness of the summer air outside that beckoned her with its welcoming winds.

  “It’s done,” Tim said from behind her as she walked on.

  “I know.”

  Slim opened the doors and let the night air flow into her, she crossed the threshold from the hell they had endured and into the starlit night, as Tim silently followed.

  Birds sang their solemn requiem in the trees, as she stepped over the slaughtered masses that littered the car park, and sat down hard on the grassy hillock that border
ed the buildings space.

  With a grunt, Tim joined her, looking up into the skies, lost in his own thoughts for the moment.

  “He got away,” he said.

  John.

  “I know.”

  “I stabbed the little son of a bitch in the back. Seemed fitting. Obviously I never stabbed him hard enough.”

  “He was still human, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah...still human...”

  “Then we find him.”

  She turned to Tim, saw the faint smile on his face. “We?” he asked.

  “We’re in this together now, you and I.”

  Tim laughed, “Tim and Slim....”

  “I was thinking, Slim and Tim.”

  “Either way, it doesn’t sound remotely badass. We sound like characters from a fucking children’s book.”

  “I guess we do, at that.” Slim got to her feet with a sigh, only then realising that she was still all but naked. The cool summer air felt wonderful on her skin.

  “Maybe we can get you a nickname...” she offered.

  “Maybe...”

  “Can’t be roaming the earth hunting devils and sounding like a pair of pussies...”

  “Cool. I've always wanted a groovy sounding name.”

  Once more, she reached for him. He took her hand and got to his feet, stretching as he did so.

  She smiled as she caught him eying her naked form.

  “Easy, tiger...”

  “Hey, I'm only a man...”

  Slim thought briefly of Meg...of her last words. Grief surged through her, and she pushed it down deep; a wound to be later revisited.

  One of many.

  “We’ll work on that. Can’t have you panting around after me like a dog in heat, partner.”

  “Partner...” Tim repeated. “I like the sound of that.”

  Slim turned to the dark streets of Plainfield. Took in its silence. Its hard won rest.

  “Lots of bad people out there...” she said.

  “Lots of bad places...”

  Slim tucked the dagger into her belt-strap, even now feeling its energy course through her veins.

  “Let’s start with that fuck, John.”

  “You got a deal, and after we handle that bastard, there’s somewhere I really need to go.”

  “Oh?”

  “I need to go home...back to Blackhaven. I have unfinished business in that town, and I need you by my side. You...” Tim nodded to the dagger in her belt. “And your power.”

  “You got it.”

  He smiled, solemnly. “Thanks, kiddo.”

  “Would you stop calling me that?!”

  “Whatever you say, Sandra.”

  “Asshole.”

  Together, they left behind the ruin of the town, the restaurant, and the people.

  They made for the open road, with the waning moonlight as their guide.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Kyle M. Scott hails from the sun-starved climes of deepest, darkest Glasgow, Scotland.

  An avid lover of horror in all its guises, Kyle spends far more time than is healthy, sat in small dark rooms and waiting for October to swing around once more, so he can completely ignore decency and protocol, and go Trick or Treating in a cheap Michael Myers costume.

  AFTERTASTE is the author’s third release, and second full- length novel.

  His previous anthology, CONSUMED: VOLUME 1, and his debut novel, DEVIL’S DAY are also available, internationally, on Amazon Kindle.

  He does not eat at food chains.

  To learn more, follow him on Twitter, Facebook and/or Goodreads.