They shouted a series of howls, cries and grunts at Wilson as if they were unhappy with him and were taunting him for some unknown reason. Perhaps they were jealous of the fact that he had fire and they did not. Perhaps they wanted possession of the fire or perhaps they simply feared the fire. Maybe their actions were based on some long-standing feud between rival clans. Wilson did not know and could not determine this from their rapid movements in and out of the shadows.
He was able to conclude that one of the creatures in particular must have been the leader of the group. This being was an enormous beast, larger than the other two, with long incredibly muscular arms that practically dragged on the ground. From what Wilson could determine, he too was clothed in the skin of some sort of animal. Wilson could not see the details of his face but could see that the creature’s hair was long and matted and that his face was covered with a fur-like beard under a large bulbous nose, protruding forehead and thick furry brow. The being waived his large arms high in the air. His suspicions of this horrid creature’s leadership were confirmed further in the way that the other beasts seem to stay back in the shadows until his actions seemed to signal that it was safe to venture out.
Wilson noticed glimpses of something strange as the creatures darted in and out of the firelight; something suspended from the massive hand of the leader of the beasts. When the creature made one of his charges toward the fire, Wilson could determine that in one arm the creature held some type of primitive ax. It appeared to be a long wooden club that was Y-shaped near the top, with a sharp edged rock fastened into the end of the club. It seemed to be held in place by a series of interlaced straps of perhaps animal hide. The sharp edge of the ax appeared to be covered with what looked like clumps of flesh, and was stained crimson, caked with coppery drying blood.
Suddenly all of the brutes started to whoop and howl as one, and the lead creature charged forward once again from the darkness, having put down the ax, now waiving something else high in the air and dangling it apparently for Wilson to see. The savage held what looked like the severed head of another creature such as himself; perhaps a female. Although disgusted by the display, Wilson did not initially comprehend its significance, other than the fact that this pack obviously had slaughtered some other creature and was taunting Wilson for some reason with its severed head.
At first, he did not understand why they would be doing such a thing. Then with the sudden recognition of the creature who’s body Wilson was occupying, he understood that the head that the lead beast was swinging about was not some random being but was actually that of this Wilson creature’s own mate. These savages had apparently murdered and decapitated her and were waving their prize at Wilson to taunt him into some sort of physical confrontation with it.
Wilson could feel his anger growing, or more appropriately, that of the host creature, rising more furiously by the moment, taking the heartache that the creature felt at the loss of his mate and transforming it into savage animal rage.
Next Wilson felt a sharp pain against his head and realized that one of the taunting creatures hiding back in the darkness must have thrown a rock, striking him on the skull. Blood trickled down his forehead into his right eye. At first Wilson was unsure what to do as he was both confused by the situation and somehow felt overcome with unbearable sorrow over the discovery of this being’s murdered mate, as if it were his own wife that had been killed.
Soon the grief was replaced by the fuming anger, so savage that Wilson could scarcely comprehend it. There had been many times in his life when he had felt angry enough to perhaps even kill someone, yet even his worst anger could not compare with the pure frenzy he now was feeling. He reached down and grabbed the skull carving on the ground, determined to hurl it at one of the huge beings as soon as one of them came back into the firelight.
The skull began pulsing in his hand and for a moment, Wilson almost dropped it into the fire as it felt as if thousands of creeping insects were moving beneath his grasp. But he was unable to let go. The skull’s ruby eyes began to glow in the firelight.
When the savages stumbled out of the darkness next, their backs were toward Wilson and they were facing back into the darkness walking in reverse toward him. He realized that they were backing away from something in the darkness so frightening that even these ferocious creatures were horrified by its presence. They were all howling and screaming again but these were no longer the frenzied war whoops that Wilson had heard earlier; instead these were cries of terror and pain.
In the firelight Wilson saw that the leader of the beasts who was screaming the loudest had long smoldering tentacles wrapped around his arms, legs and neck that were burning through his flesh clean to the bone and seemed to be pulling him back into the darkness. In the distance, Wilson could see through the blackness that a huge opening had erupted in the ground. The edges of the opening were distinguishable in the blackness as they glowed white-hot. A foul stench filled the air along with the screams of the huge male whose flesh was melting from his body. The tentacle surrounding the creature’s neck burned its way through to the neck bone and the brute stopped his cries of pain as his head fell to the ground. Wilson heard the skittering of clawed feet as spider like creatures emerged from the darkness to carry away the dead beast’s severed head. He could not make out the faces of these spider creatures in the darkness but somehow he suspected that they would have human-like faces that resembled this cave creature who possessed the skull.
With accompanying cries of anguish, the other two members of the pack were likewise pulled backward into the darkness as Wilson watched the crack in the earth begin to fuse back together and the white-hot light disappeared….
Chapter 12
Flash …Wilson next found himself standing on an expansive stone patio of some sort, overlooking a sand-covered area of a desert region that seemed to go on for miles in every direction. The sun had set, and a full moon illuminated the area below him, where thousands of torches sparkled like stars against the desert sand. It appeared that he was looking down on some sort of building site, where what looked like an enormous Egyptian-styled temple was under construction. At the area closest to him, he could see thousands of people below working feverishly under the lash of hundreds of overseers. It was apparent to Wilson that these workers were slaves, not only by their pitiful physical conditions, but also by the inhumane treatment they were receiving. These unfortunates seemed to cover the spectrum of ages ranging from very young children to old men and women, some crippled and barely able to walk. Their clothing hung tattered like rags from their emaciated bodies. Wilson could here the overseers slashing whips and the screams of anguish echoing through the moonlit night.
Wilson realized that he was no longer in the body of that primitive beast from a few moments ago, but now seemed to be looking though the eyes of someone of a less ancient time and apparently someone of great importance. He stood alone on the huge patio. This person was someone he understood to be in charge of the activities taking place below. He looked about the expanse of the patio where he stood, astonished at its incredible size and grandeur, made of some highly polished stone, etched and decorated with ornate designs. Around the patio, large pillars perhaps six feet in diameter zoomed over fifty feet into the air supporting a huge ceiling adorned with paintings depicting incredibly violent acts of murder, sodomy, fornication and debauchery. He found this all quite disturbing. What sort of creature would allow such blasphemous and blatantly filthy works of art to grace the ceiling of their home for the entire world to see?
He examined himself in by the moonlight and noticed that his arms were no longer huge and hairy but they were now slim and virtually free of muscle tone or hair. He looked downward and was shocked to see that a lovely set of voluptuous female breasts, draped in some sort of wrap-around dress, hung from his chest and continued downward to a very shapely body. This was extremely disconcerting to say the least. Wilson realized he was looking through the eyes of a female, a youn
g, probably attractive and obviously important female.
Wilson felt something in his right hand and noticed that he held a long wooden staff perhaps seven feet tall. At the top of the staff was a shining silver amulet embossed with a skull with ruby red eyes that reflected the moonlight.
Behind him, Wilson heard a noise as someone approached from inside the building, perhaps a palace, to which the outside porch was attached. Without speaking, he turned slowly and faced a large muscular man who stood in a menacing attack pose holding a sword at the ready. Wilson understood through the mind of this female, that the man was someone who was the supervisor of the overseers working below. He also knew that this man had been a trusted servant of this woman’s royal family, but for some reason Wilson sensed that things had suddenly changed and the female body he occupied was in grave danger from this person. The man spoke in a tongue that Wilson had never heard before, yet somehow he understood every word the angry man uttered as if the man were speaking English.
The man shouted, with anger and apparent sadness “I am so sorry, my Queen. Though I have served you faithfully for my entire life, I can no longer do so. The unspeakable acts you have committed upon your own people are beyond human understanding. I suspect that your heart is black and your mind is riddled with maggots. You have come to represent the epitome of pure evil. Your people, your subjects, say that perhaps you are a witch; servant of demons, worshipper of the dark one and you must be stopped. They say that you can conjure up the minions of the evil one himself and, after what I have personally witnessed lo these many years, I sadly must agree that they are right. The pain and misery that you have caused, and continue to spew forth cannot continue.”
“As you are aware I have personally put to death countless men, women and children in your name, in the glory of the building of your temples, to the splendor of your majesty. Though I am filled with sorrow for what I have done, I have little doubt that l will suffer in the fires of Hell for eternity for my actions against these innocents. Now the time has come that these atrocities have to stop. You must die, and sadly I, your most humble and trusted servant must be the one to take your life. For only by killing you, can I begin to hope for salvation and forgiveness for the many evils I have committed for your grace. Damn you and damn your heathen temples to Hell.”
The uneasy attacker lunged his razor sharp sword at the female body that Wilson now possessed but was stopped in mid motion before the blow could make contact. The terrified man stood motionless in lunge position as if paralyzed, frozen in time.
Wilson’s female host walked slowly around the paralyzed man as if studying a sculpture in an art museum, taking in all of the nuances of his pose. The overseer’s eyes were able to move back and forth, darting sideways, watching his movements. As Wilson completed the circular trip around the man, he felt a growing anger bubbling up inside of this body as if the former indifference that the female felt toward this attacker had been replaced with fury. The rage continued to build to greater and greater levels of hatred as if heading for some incredible climatic frenzy.
Wilson felt the shaft begin to pulse in his fingers. Its touch against his palm was as if he were grasping a wooden rod that had its exterior covered with living flesh. Looking at the length of the rod, Wilson could see that his assumption was dreadfully correct and that periodically along the wooden shaft he could see hand-sewn stitches where sections of human flesh had been pieced together to form a literal outer skin for the rod. The site both revolted and yet incredibly intrigued Wilson at the same time. At the top of the fleshy wooden shaft, the blood red eyes of the shining skull had begun to glow and pulse in time with the pulsations that Wilson felt from the fleshy shaft.
Wilson heard a now familiar ripping sound as the wall behind the attacker began to split open and once more, long tentacles reached out from the fiery black nothingness that waited beyond the rip in the fabric of the world. A pungent stench of decay poured sickeningly from deep inside the void. The wildly twisting tentacles encompassed his would-be attacker; pulling him toward the opening, while simultaneously melting the flesh from his body. Wilson once again saw the worm-things with their needle-like teeth pouring from the opening and swarming about the screaming man’s ankles, working their way upward along his legs, literally devouring his flesh from his body as his muffled screams of torment attempted to pour from his paralytic mouth.
Within a few moments, the half-devoured, half-dissolved man was pulled slowly into the opening. Wilson could hear a cacophony of howling and celebratory shouting coming from within the horrid opening as if the tortured souls of millions of the damned waited to welcome yet another to their fold.
Chapter 13
Flash …. Wilson was standing in the shadow of a large stone building at sunset, near a rough hand-made plank wooden table upon which a variety of breads and baked goods were stacked. The aromas coming from the food caused Wilson’s mouth to water with expectant pleasures. There was still enough sunlight remaining for him to get a good look at his surroundings. He appeared to be in an ally adjacent to some sort of street market that was shutting down at the end of a long business day. He heard some people out in the marketplace speaking in what he thought might be Latin but was uncertain, as he did not speak Latin, yet once again, he could understand their words as clearly, as if they were speaking perfect English.
Examining himself to determine what form he might have now assumed, Wilson saw that he was dressed in some type of tattered yellowed tunic. At first he thought that perhaps it might be another dress and he might still be in the body of that evil witch woman, but to his relief he realized that he had moved on to some other form. He now seemed to be looking through the eyes of a very young man, perhaps an older teenager. His body under the tunic appeared to be slender, perhaps malnourished yet with some developing muscle tone. The ache in his stomach told Wilson that this young man had not eaten for quite some time. No wonder he was salivating at the confluence of luscious odors that filled the air in the marketplace. He tried to ignore the pangs in his stomach and the sensations in his nostrils because he understood that he had important business to conduct first.
Either through intuition or a simple knowledge passed on by the being he now occupied, Wilson realized that this boy was a street boy, a orphan who had survived for many years in the alleyways of this and other such Roman towns by sheer will and determination. He knew that the young man had found thievery to be his best option for survival and that he was hiding in the shadows at this very moment waiting for the opportunity to steal some food, money or both from one of the unsuspecting merchants who was closing down their stand after a long and hopefully prosperous day. He understood also that the boy was not above hurting or even killing his victims if that was what it took for him to survive and had done both on more than one occasion in the past.
Looking down Wilson saw that he held a dagger in his right hand. He lifted the knife upward to give it a closer examination and he noticed that the blade and hilt were shining silver while the handle seemed to be made of some sort of ivory or animal bone, which was inset with two silver skulls with blood red eyes. Apparently, this knife was the boy’s main tool for procuring the spoils of his trade. The handle felt almost alive in Wilson’s palm and seemed to pulse with the all to familiar rhythm that he had experienced earlier with the strange cell phone. He suddenly realized that as was the case with the cell phone and the cave man’s carved skull and the evil Egyptian queen’s scepter, this knife was actually the sacred relic the old man had spoken of, in yet another of its many forms. The knowledge he received from the boy did not explain how he had come to acquire the sacred relic, but he did understand that the boy was its present keeper.
Wilson felt a tug as strong hands yanked him backward off his feet pulling him deep into the darkness of the alley behind him. A huge grimy hand covered his mouth and he felt the razor edge of a sharp blade pressed against his throat as a large man spoke into his left ear, “Well what is it we
have here? It appears we have a common murdering boy-thief waiting in the shadows to rob and perhaps kill some unsuspecting merchant.”
The man’s breath was foul, reeking of wine, old cheese and decaying teeth. Wilson could feel the man’s wet spittle stippling the side of his face. “I don’t take kindly to strangers coming into my neighborhood and robbing the good merchants of this community. These people pay me very well to protect them from common thieves like you, but apparently you did not know that very important fact.”
Wilson thought about the modern day extortionists he had learned about by watching his favorite police shows, who coerced store owners to pay them protection money to keep them safe from criminals. Then the merchants soon discover that their so-called protectors are the biggest criminals of all. The large man continued, “Well, my foolish young friend, you should have learned to be more careful, for this night you will find that you will be the one who will be robbed and murdered.”
Wilson heard laughter coming from behind him and the man. It was obvious that there were at least two or three more of them back there behind the leader. Therefore, even if he could break free he would likely never escape with his life. The man tightened his grip and Wilson could feel that the man was aroused, his maleness poking Wilson’s backside through the thin tunic.
“And what a fine specimen of a young man you are. Maybe first, we will want to take some time to get to know you better.” The man sneered, poking Wilson a bit more deliberately. The rest of the group all laughed with agreement. Wilson understood that at sometime in the past, this young man had suffered the humiliation and savagery of gang rape at the hands of roving packs such as the one which now controlled him, and the boy had sworn to die before permitting such an attack again.
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