by Chad West
Angela and the others were being yanked toward the back of the room when the wall shattered. Screams and debris filled the room. She went down with the others, ducking for cover. Jonas was screaming commands at them she wasn’t hearing. This enormous monster—that was the lone word for it—was far worse than anything she had prepared herself for. It faced them, raging and dripping, slobbering great gobs onto the floor. The odor was relentless. Her stomach lurched but she didn’t vomit. Lucy peeked from behind the table like a child trying to catch a glimpse of some zombie Santa from behind a couch.
Jonas grabbed Cynthia’s arm. “Listen to me! You are almost invulnerable, and strong. Take that pipe and just start ripping it apart!”
“No freaking way, man! You’re nuts! There’s a window right behi—”
“I know this is hard to accept…” He sighed, turned to Angela. “Dammit! You!”
“No!” She was insulted that he would suggest such a thing. Her gaze was stuck to the creature that stood still, looking like it was deciding who would be the main course and who to have for dessert.
“Why’s it just standing there?” Jonas ignored Cynthia’s question.
“You… control fire. We’re stuck in this room. We will die if one of you doesn’t do something.” Jonas said these things in a more controlled, calming voice than Angela could handle right then.
“I can do something,” Lucy said from behind the table, imitating his tone.
Jonas took a breath. “You're weak from your fight. But it may be—”
“Let’s just run, you idiots!” Cynthia yelled. The creature flinched. Huffed in her direction like an angry bull, but remained still.
“No. It will attack you. It’s confused right now without the Wraith. But not for long. We’ve got to kill it. They’re too fast,” he said.
Angela still stared, even though her brain screamed for her to tear her eyes away. She thought that this might be what the rotted corpse of the Incredible Hulk looked like. It was hunched, leaning to one side. Long, misshapen breasts hung over hills of swollen torso. Exposed muscle pushed out of rips in its taut, bruised skin. Its insides bulged, reminding her of a fresh popped can of blood-soaked biscuits. Arms hung like giant slugs, ending in fat, knobby fingers. Small, pale eyes sat deep under a jutting brow. Its mouth hung lax, its swollen tongue peeked out like a curious neighbor.
Angela’s eyes broke away and went to Cynthia at the sound of breaking glass. She was raking the pipe along the edges of the shattered window. Jonas grabbed at her, but she pushed him away like he was a child, and crawled through. She called for them to follow, but they just watched as the monster’s face changed from confusion to anger, its eyes on the window, and it charged.
This is it. This is where I die. Or maybe, Angela thought, as it stomped toward them, this was already Hell.
Its hand felt like a giant glove filled with half-frozen gelatin as it pushed Angela aside. She hit the wall, but was more frightened than hurt. Jonas got down, pulling Lucy with him. They were all scared but, at the moment, it didn’t care about them. It wanted Cynthia.
EIGHT
Cynthia managed to slip through the window to the ground as the creature charged past the rest of them, bursting through the outer wall like a linebacker through a game banner. It ripped her from the grass, and tried its best to rend her in half. The constant pull of its vice-like fingers were uncomfortable but painless. She surprised herself by yanking an arm free with fair ease, swinging wild, and somehow landing a glancing blow to the watery flesh of its chest. The skin moved with her fist. A spray of pink that wet her face was the solitary sign that she had done it any harm.
The thing roared again, finding a surer grip on her. It pulled her, face-first, to its mouth. She screamed, frightened out of her mind, running on instinct. A leg flailed at nothing. It pulled her toward its too wide maw. Cynthia pushed back with trembling legs which slipped on rotten skin.
Her mind ran wild as she felt and watched the nightmare thing try to kill her. No coherent thought would form, but there was no coherent thought to be had about something such as this. The one thing that kept her sanity from switching off was that survival mode had kicked in. She had chosen flight, but the thing’s iron grip gave her shivering body no recourse but fight, with intent to flee.
Sheer chance got her one step ahead of it, and she slipped her body away from its grip, its mouth. With her hanging by one arm from its clenched fist, they stared at one another for a sickening moment. Then, not wanting those dreadful eyes on her any longer, she threw the elbow of her free arm around, hard into its face. She felt its jaw crack, and the skin gave like an old peach. Cynthia hit the ground. The creature reeled away in surprise, wailing and pawing at its ruined face.
Jonas was at her side, holding the pipe. “Are you hurt?”
“Just… Just shut up! Kill it!”
He brought the pipe up and batted at the thing. Swollen eyes, which had been closed in pain, popped open and glared. Its slug arm shot out and took the blow. In one, quick move, it grabbed the other end of the pipe and sent Jonas sailing away like a struck shuttlecock. The pipe rattled to the ground and the thing’s eyes were once again fixed on Cynthia. She could now see the extent of the damage she’d done. Flesh hung in wet shreds; its jaw slouched about three inches too low. The thing swayed, quivered, but seemed to be staying upright. The beast lurched at her.
It looked as if it were fueled by rage now as much as by oxygen or life’s blood—if a monstrosity like this needed such things at all. She leapt out of its path, grabbing for the pipe. She swung it in an awkward arc, shocked to see it send the creature up off its feet, twisting through the air, and skipping across the ground as it landed. But, it scrambled up and was barreling at her again within seconds. Cynthia squealed, swinging the metal tube too high this time. She felt herself rise, her breath gone, as it snatched her off her feet. The next moment it was swinging her. Her upper body and face crashed to a stop against a tree. Then again. She tried for anything to hold on to.
Unbroken, but phased, she felt the bottom half of her shirt snag on the bark, ripping open as the thing pulled her away. It reared back, swung her again. Her torso wrapped around the tree. Her face felt every inch of bark attempting to tear it away, but with little pain. Then, with every ounce of wherewithal and speed she could manage she wrapped her arms around the tree’s trunk.
When the monster yanked again she almost lost her hold. It stumbled—its grip on her gone, it reeled back. Cynthia tumbled to the ground and rolled to her feet to run. The thing was already in front of her. She squealed and dodged behind the tree. It pushed the tree aside, roots snapping, dirt jumping several feet into the air, never losing eye contact with her. Cynthia shivered, screamed, beginning to cry. “Just stay away!” She was in shock. Cold and so afraid.
The Golem roared, its breath stinking of rot. This was over. She had no more fight left. It was too much. It was… Chunks of putrid flesh and a hot spray of arterial blood covered Cynthia as the long, rusty pipe shot into the creature’s neck. She shrieked, stone still.
Lucy stood several yards away, heaving with each breath, hands on her knees. She looked to a still-dazed Jonas who was pushing himself up from the ground. “Was that good?”
Cynthia let herself slump down, barking out air, crying harder. She wiped half-heartedly at the thick, red goo she wore, sitting with her back against the fallen tree she’d been tortured against moments earlier. She could feel where she had been hammered into it—tingling trails where her body had been slammed into the bark crawled over her flesh. Spikes of pain—far less pain that she should have been in—sizzled just underneath.
The serene beauty of the rolling green farmland, spotted with trees, was too dissonant to look at. So she looked down at her quaking hands as Jonas and the other two girls ran to her. He bent and took one of her hands. Cynthia raised her head. “I can’t… I can’t.”
“Shh.” Jonas’ eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m so sorry, Cynthia. I
should have been there for you all these years. I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head. “This can’t… be real. This isn’t life, man.”
“I’m sorry. It is. I wish to God that it weren’t. If just for you girl’s sakes.” Jonas wiped at the mess on her face and she let him. “Listen. We need to get out of here. None of us are ready for—” Wood snapped behind them, and they all turned at once at the sound.
Through the hole the first beast had made in the wall, there now stood a second, larger creature. Its outsized, purple eyes rolled toward them, and it clenched its sloppy fists.
“No. Please, no,” Jonas said.
***
The creature didn’t pause as the last one had. Like the other, with no Wraith to control it, unbridled, instinctual anger did. It flung itself at them. Its speed was amazing considering its size. Angela dug her heel into the ground and jumped out of its path. Jonas managed to push Lucy aside as it neared. She tumbled, grunting as she hit the ground. He might have given her a few scratches or bruises, but it was nothing compared to what the behemoth could do. He tensed, planting his feet, ready for the impact that would odds-on end with him in pieces on the ground.
His eyes met its narrowed eyes. Those eyes widened. It tripped, floundering to the ground, missing him by inches. Sliding, leaving a ragged furrow in the dirt, the thing thrashed, flipping onto its side. Every inch of skin remaining on muscle tightened. Bulbous arms trembled. Its mouth gaped open, and dark blood erupted.
Angela stood, eyes closed, shaking. Tears popped out from her screwed together lids, her teeth bore down on her lower lip. Jonas noticed the flames on her arms. Lucy yelped. He prayed Angela wouldn’t open her eyes.
A pop, like an aerosol can exploding in a fire, came from the writhing beast’s center. Cinders, gobs of flesh and the smell of a field of rotting corpses filled the air. Angela’s eyes opened at the noise. She stared at her arms, swallowed up by flames, for an intense moment before beginning to screech, shaking them.
“Calm down! It won’t hurt you!” Jonas said.
The beast rose, its skin sizzling, steam rising from its fat form. Its face marred with pain. Gore pumped out of the new hole in its stomach with each breath. It stumbled. Jonas looked past it to the farmhouse. He hoped with his last shred of hope that no more than two people had lived there for the Wraith to corrupt.
“What did I do?” Angela cried. “I just wanted it to stop!”
Jonas took a step back, eyeing the blood-smeared pole poking from the corpse of the last creature. The larger Golem’s head rose in slow motion and it took a deep, quick breath. Another stumbling step forward. Jonas whipped around, yanking the pipe out with a reverberating, slurping sound. The giant fell on him in one, quick, awkward leap.
Jonas managed to swing the steel. A warbling whistle, followed by a solid strike to its face, and it had him. Its fat, bluish fingers pressed in; Jonas’ chest felt like it might cave. A board zoomed over his head, rebounding off the fleshy blob’s shoulder. Lucy’s eyes fluttered and she went to her knees, the overuse of her new powers overwhelming her.
There was no one now. All this time, all the planning, it had been for nothing. The Fade would have this world, too. He took its face in his hands, pressing it away. The thing growled, its hazy, fat eyes widening. He would die there, now. He didn’t blame the girls for breaking down, of course. This was all fiction come to life for them. Its mouth—green swollen gums, jutting decaying teeth, caked with its own gore—opened.
It pulled him forward, stumbling again, jerking Jonas upwards onto its head. He smiled. Jonas stiffened his thumbs and buried them deep into its eyes. He thought that it felt like plunging them into ripe plums right before he was thrown across the pasture. When he landed, a wave of pain enveloped his body. But it was better than being eaten to death. He watched as the monster pawed at its face and then slumped forward, unmoving.
Angela cried. Lucy was coming around again. Cynthia was balled up against her tree, rocking herself. Every muscle ached as Jonas rose. He scanned the four corners of the pasture as far as he could see. They seemed to be alone now. They needed that to be the last one. The girls were done, and so was he.
The slight rise of the creature’s stomach was the single indication that it was still alive. He wanted to collect his trusty pipe, go over there and stuff it down its throat. But, he couldn’t take the chance that it might have another round in it. It would die soon enough from Angela’s wound. Until then, he had young women in shock to deal with.
“You are Jonas,” a voice from behind him said.
Jonas spun, his mouth falling open at the sight of the broad, tan man, (light armor covered him like leaves cover trees). With everything he could manage, Jonas took up a fighting stance.
***
“I come for talk.” In spite of being human, he was one of the Fade’s warriors. Of that, Jonas was sure. Jonas’ eyes followed the man as he approached the dying Golem. “I am Kah’en. You are in lucky I was being the one Aern sent.”
Jonas did not move, but he reddened at the mention of Aern, the bastard who had led the Fade in the war against his Earth. “What do you want?”
The sun was a melting orange pool to the right of where Kah’en stood. He pulled at the hilt at his side, which Jonas recognized. In a second it became a long sword, vibrating with dim, blue light. “You will be wanting to hear what I have to say, human.”
There were dozens like Kah’en, who were as human as Jonas, but they had come through the same gate as those giant, shadow-skinned murderers. Jonas had never quite figured that one out. But he had also given up caring years ago. The Fade were sociopathic killers, and this scum was no less so because he lacked their alien features.
Kah’en was tall and muscular, with eyes as brown as his coffee skin, and dark hair cropped short. He wore the light armor of a Fade warrior outside of battle. But still, it was formidable. Rough, leather leggings, a simple piece of black armor, broad shoulder pads. Aern’s symbol—a four-armed female figure—sat blue on his chest. Black steel sheathes covered his arms. Circuitry ran through them that Jonas hoped was still nonfunctional. The glowing sword made that a more realistic worry.
“Say what you have to say then,” said Jonas.
The warrior raised his free hand and walked over to the still living Golem. He raised the sword, brought it down, severing the Golem’s head. “Aern will destroy you. He is much plotting against you.”
“Aern is here?” Jonas narrowed his eyes, bared his teeth like a cornered dog.
“Yes. You led us here. Whatever you were doing to disappear the signal finally failed. But I am here to be helping you.”
Jonas thought it best to hide his ignorance about just how he’d managed to lead them there. “Why help us?”
Said Kah’en, “I would be a fool when I lie and say that I care about your well-being.” Jonas nodded with an annoyed smile. “I do not. I am in this place because we are many who lost faith in our search for the Queen.”
Kah’en was worse at it than his taller, uglier brother’s-in-arms, but Jonas hated hearing any of them try to speak their languages. “What does that have to do with me?” He glanced over at the girls, then toward Kah’en. The warrior’s eyes were casually going from one girl to the next. Jonas felt his jaw tighten.
“You are being the first peoples who have ever defeated us. You are wanting this war to stop. So are we. We are believing Aern is heading to destroy us all on this fool’s journey.”
“Your people… Hell, probably just you alone, murdered hundreds of innocent children rather than let them get to safety. Not to mention the hundreds of millions more that you killed just for fun.” Jonas took a step closer. “You want me to trust you? You have no soul. You have no compunction about doing whatever it takes to accomplish your goals. I don’t know if you learned this during your time on our planet, but that’s not what we’re about.”
Kah'en frowned. “I could be making an argument against this point. I am so
aware of how your race is feeling about us, Jonas. I am not lying that we feel no remorse over what we have done. It was war. We make no worries of morality against our enemy as your peoples do. What is, is. Our only law is being…”
“The strongest rule. Yeah, I’ve heard that enough,” Jonas said.
Kah’en grimaced. “I have seen many of your peoples rape the other in our holding camps. For what? To do what they are wishing. I have seen a man crack a boy’s arm so he could be stealing his bread. For what?” He shook his head. “Your morality is the joke. But hold on to it if you think. I am not being here to take it. I am offering you a chance to loosen yourself of this constant battle because we would choose to live rather than to be chasing an old fool’s dream.” He held out his hand, a small device held between his fingers.
Jonas sighed. He recognized it. They’d taken hundreds of them from the battle field. It was used to communicate. “How does this still work?”
“It no longer does. Not in the ways it did. But you can still be signaling me with it. It will still be getting coordinates of your place, when you or I think to meet later. But now you will be hearing my offer?”
Jonas nodded toward the sword.
Kah’en patted the scabbard which held the electric blade, now depowered and just a short, black hilt again. “Yes. Even though your actions lost us a war with your people, we are finding the ways around what you did to our technology. Of this you must also be aware.”
Jonas relaxed. Even if he died right then he would know that his sacrifice was worth it. His plan had worked. All of the Fade's technology had been reduced to de-powered junk. He’d managed to give his people the upper hand. However, the fact that they were finding ways around that was unsettling. “I’m not stupid enough to take this back to where we’re staying.”