Red Sky: Rising

by Ben Archer

  There is one quirk about this place that helps distract from the thought of my impending grizzly death; all the trees here are completely lopsided. The branches only grow from the left side of the trunk. An evolutionary change to survive the high winds up here?

  Seriously, the breeze has two speeds, “freeze your ass off” and “blow you back down the damn hill”. Fortunately the sun eventually raises high enough to help compensate for the freezing winds. It also cuts through the thick blanket of fog. This will be especially important when I finally find this creature. While sunlight doesn't bother me as a (relatively) young vampire, those things are so deteriorated that it sets their skin ablaze. Like, actually on fire. That’s why they hide away in caves and only terrorize people at night.

  So it’s safe to assume he’s been home for a while, since the sun is up and I haven't seen any animals in over an hour. Although there have been plenty of those little pools of meat. Chunks of sheared fur are stuck to most of the sharp rocks, and there’s enough blood splatter to qualify this entire mountain as an abstract painting. One thing is becoming painfully clear, I’m not at the top of the food chain anymore.

  NOT. EVEN. CLOSE.

  After another hour, the random pools merge into one long crimson trail leading to a place God ignores. Carved into the side of the mountain is a hole filled with the vilest creatures to ever walk Earth. The massive, gaping entrance makes it appear as if even the rocks are screaming for me to turn back. Stone spires guard the entrance as if they were the snarling teeth of a crazed wolf. The tops have been stained a dark cherry red from all the unfortunate souls that have passed through them.

  Endless waves of putrid breath are spewing from inside the screaming mouth. The smell of rotting death rapidly brings out all my crippling insecurities. To describe how it feels standing at the front gates of Hell is impossible. Small. Weak. Powerless.

  I don't even know this girl! Why should I risk everything for her? She means absolutely nothing to me! I try convincing myself turning back is the only rational choice. There are actually muscles twitching to yank me away from this nightmarish pit. Only the lingering image of the girl keeps me here. Her helpless eyes say that leaving would be the same as killing her myself. And that’s a guilt I can’t live with.

  Again.

  Walking away would plunge me into the deepest, darkest depression possible.

  Again.

  There have been points where I couldn’t even stand the sight of my own face. My overwhelming shame was as visible as a black eye or bloody nose to me. I can never go back to that. Besides, I’ll have daylight on my side for several more hours. There will be no need for a fight at all! I’ll be able to sneak in and out before they even know I’m there! Just stroll into a thick den of monsters, in complete and utter darkness, to steal back a hypnotized girl! No problem!

  An odd laugh, treading the uneasy line of humor and panic, leaks out. The brave thought brings a temporary swell of courage, but not enough to actually make me believe the hopeful words. However, the false optimism does give me the required motivation to finally get moving.

  First thing I do is grab a big handful of the chunky stew covering the ground. The thick slime seems to be made from every creature that’s ever been here. Purposely covering myself with the foul smelling ooze may sound crazy, but it should easily cover my scent while I’m in there. Although I do make a pretty big mistake by looking at it…

  It appears to be nothing more than hunks of fur and meat collected into squishy piles. Since it would be suicide to walk in there without it, I reluctantly smear the rotten goo over every inch of exposed skin. Having an enhanced sense of smell certainly isn’t helping the situation. A few dry heaves later, and I’m completely covered in chunky bat poo.

  With the new suit of putrid armor in place, I’m free to search the gnarly teeth for the best way into the dark cave. Sadly, they reveal absolutely nothing about what’s hiding inside. The bright mid-day sun makes it impossible to see anything beyond the black hole. By the looks of it, I’ll be going in blind. Maybe it’s best I don’t know what’s hiding in there??? Ha! Not even I can sell that load of crap to myself! There’s never a good time to jump in a blender, especially when you don’t know if it’s running.

  Since the rationalizing isn’t going particularly great, I simply quit trying and immediately dive into the belly of the beast. The abrupt jump doesn’t give me time to regret the impulsive decision. It also leaves my feet soaking wet and eyes shut completely off. They’ll only show the blue sparkles of trying to adjust to the infinite darkness. I’m barely inside the entrance, yet I might as well be drifting in outer space.

  Regrettably, my ears are working just fine. They easily hear the countless Eutherians and whatever squishy pile I landed in. I decide not to move while waiting for the dark to share her secrets with me. But as it does, hundreds, maybe thousands, of devil bats come into gradual focus. Directly above are massive swarms of hanging giants still dripping gore from last night's feast. I can hear their dripping drool and leftovers raining down from the high ceiling.

  Most are bundled up in fleshy wing cocoons to keep away what little light can survive in here. I can’t tell exactly how many are up there, but it’s enough to make it hard to tell where one beast stops and another begins. They make the entire ceiling appear to be a living, writhing creature.

  Surrounding my feet are the remains of decades of brutal hunts. Heaping mounds of freshly chewed bodies and bones; deer, cattle, rabbit, birds, and humans of every age and size imaginable. Most of them are so mangled that it’s hard to tell what they could have been. The variety in this room is as endless as it is frightening.

  My eyes can’t escape one old man in particular. Something about his terrified appearance really draws me in. What little skin he has left is bleached the kind of white usually reserved for ghosts and bed sheets. It’s so pale that it’s almost the same shade as his silver matted beard. The dried blood in his wrinkles exaggerates his pained expression and glues him to the floor. The few rays of light seem drawn to him as well. This man, and the horrific moment trapped in his eyes, become tattoos on my already stained soul. His agony will surely remain with me until the day I die. Which, hopefully, won’t be today.

  I have to shake it off and get back to what brought me here. I try compensating for the low light with the rest of my senses, except in this rotting place, they’re useless too. The only smell is death. The only sounds are of the rough claws scratching against coarse skin. As for touch goes, well since everything is covered in decaying flesh, they all feel the same too; wet and slimy.

  In short, this place is overwhelming.

  It’s virtually impossible to do anything in here. When I mistakenly move one toe an inch too far, it knocks over an entire stack of bones! Since I’m not immediately eaten, I have to assume rattling bones are not an unusual sound around here. I force myself to keep moving while trying not to make any more stupid mistakes. That means taking one cautious step at a time during my search of the mangled bodies. It’s an extremely slow, and very disgusting process, because there’s barely enough light to see a few inches past my nose.

  Examining these mounds tells me several things about the Eutherians:

  1) Nothing that comes within miles of this cave lives.

  2) They all die horrible, fiendishly gruesome deaths. Huge pieces are missing as if they were pulled apart for sheer entertainment.

  So the deeper I get into the massive chamber, the more I fear what I’m going to find. I can’t help it. Sort through enough severed arms and legs, you will too.

  Finally, after who-knows-how-long, a single clue floats in while elbows deep in what, I think, used to be a deer. I catch only a brief whiff of the undeniably sweet smell of berries and honey, but even the faintest scent of something pleasant is startlingly out of place in here.

  I immediately drop the slab of meat to follow the heavenly fragrance wherever it may lead. That turns out to be a very distant rear wall
where absolutely no light can reach at all. Back to where only the sweet smell will be able to guide any me further.

  Without eyes, I have to feel around in the shadows. It’s mostly the same old slime and gore, except for the one thin crack that leads off to who knows where. My heart pounds at the thought of blindly following the scent into a hole that’s barely wider than a barstool. It won’t stop me, but my inner voice is going hoarse from all the shouting.

  My hands cautiously lead each apprehensive step away from the main chamber. After reaching the first corner the narrow tunnel abruptly opens up, which this is somehow much, much worse. Without being able to touch both walls, I suddenly find myself hugging every rock to slide along. Half the time the darkness is smothering, other times I’m floating in a vast abyss. It’s a nerve-wrecking rollercoaster that’s far too reminiscent of the last time I was buried alive.

  It helps to pretend to pull myself along with an invisible rope. The imaginary life-line allows me to cross the black pool in search of the elusive berry smell. Other things begin to appear in the suffocating darkness: a bullseye, a walking cat, a remote controlled truck, several bouncing balls, whatever my worried mind can fill the emptiness with. My imagination responds by painting the blank canvas with pictures so vivid that I would swear I could go pick them up. In fact, I walk toward an actual beam of light for almost five minutes before figuring out its real. I had just assumed it was another one of those random things my brain spat out. But no, it’s an actual, real, colorful ray of light! Eventually enough of them join so that I don’t feel as if I’m suffocating anymore!

  My lungs ache from filling with the first breath they’ve had since entering the long hallway. If I weren’t already, I would be breathless after seeing all the magnificent lights dancing along the walls like magical red, green, and blue fairies.

  One thing’s for sure, they’re the life raft my sanity needed to pull me back ashore. I will follow these mystical creatures wherever they want to take me. Although they don’t lead far, and end up going to the last place I ever expected… A river of gold spilling out of a dreamlike doorway. Waiting inside are stacks of coins, gems, and treasures piled so high that I have to climb to even get inside the dazzling room!

  Why would this be here? What good is this to creatures that live as they do? They’re animals! No, that’s an insult to animals! These things are straight out of a nightmare’s nightmare! Then, the obvious truth hits harder than the brick wall from earlier. A shark was always a shark, while these creatures used to be men, so locked inside those grotesque heads are the uniquely human cravings for wealth and power.

  I scoop up a fistful of the glistening fortune. It’s a fascination that I confess never really understanding. Though, I suppose it’s been easy to avoid since I’m paid by the pound, and profit margins aren’t high in the squirrel game. Still, as the shiny treasures slip through my fingers, I begin to understand it a little better. One piece really catches my eye. It’s an intricate golden owl that dangles playfully on the end of a twisted chain.

  Dru loved owls.

  I remember when Mom redecorated her room for her fourteenth birthday. It suddenly went from bland yellow walls, to having chubby owls everywhere; stickers on doors, the colorful outlines of a tacky bed spread, porcelain figures watching from on top high bookshelves, and they all stood just as proudly as this little guy. His broad shoulders flow effortlessly into the fiery ruby planted deep in his chest.

  I raise him to the light and watch the entire chamber burst into glorious red flames. The fire spreads quickly from coins, to jewels, to walls, and back again. I suddenly realize that I’m not standing on a mountain of gold, but atop every dream I’ve ever had! The possibilities fill my mind as fast as the coins fill my pockets.

  My hands tremble from excitement. It gets so bad that my shaky fingers are knocking out more coins than they can put in! Nevertheless, they methodically fill each pocket before moving onto the next. When there’s absolutely no room left, I feverishly tie the arms of my jacket and load it as a backpack. Instead of what could I do, what couldn't I do???

  One thing I can’t do is take it all in one trip, but so what? Who cares?!?! I can come back every day for the rest of my life! No one else knows about this place! My first purchase is going to be a replacement for that spring-sticking-out-of-the-seat-ball-poking-red scooter! I want something fit for a king!

  A shiny statue unexpectedly tumbles to the ground while loading the makeshift bag. I quickly rescue the treasure, only to find it’s a graceful dancer craved from the purest silver. Pouring over her shoulders is a silky rose colored dress that plunges down the slope of her deeply arched back. I admire the intricate craftsmanship it must have taken to sculpt such a wonderful work of art. However, I begin to notice that the longer I look at the elegant outfit, the more it changes. How could my touch alter the silky gown so drastically?

  The mystery of the flowing dress is only solved by peeling my fingers away from the thin silver waist. Left behind are long, juicy waves of red slime that drip down to the floor. It was never a dress at all, merely a thick coating of blood from my guilty hands.

  The awful truth rushes in. My chest tightens from the realization that all the gold I’ve lusted after is mixed with the fresh remains of death. Most of the coins have been glued together by an unholy mixture of blood and ripped flesh. The results of my greed have turned into a tormenting red river steadily flowing down my forearm. Everything I’ve touched has been painted with bright crimson fingerprints! There are even long trails of gore leading down into each swollen pocket that send me reeling in horror. My disappearing balance, along with a wildly spinning room, turns the wickedness I was so blind to into all I can see.

  Those devils bring their prey here to devour on top of a mountain of gold. This new comprehension causes the self-loathing and toxic disgust to explode in the pit of my stomach. I begin flinging the bloody coins before ever thinking about the consequences. In a more rational state of mind I would know better. They’re bouncing off the tight walls and making such a ruckus that every bat should immediately be drawn here. How there isn’t a swarm by the time the last coin drops is a total mystery.

  And the worst is yet to come…

  I finally find the little girl laying on a thick pile of treasure. Her young chest has been split right down the bloody middle. The only piece not covered with splatter is her innocent face. The image of these monsters feasting on her, like the cherry on a shit covered sundae, has a physical effect on me. If you’ve never seen vampire vomit, trust me, it’s not pretty. Collapsed in a puddle of cherry red puke really forces me to digest (for lack of a better word) the bitter unfairness of it all. These abominations have lived dozens of lifetimes, while she never even got to live one.

  I grip her cold fingers and try to take comfort in the fact that her expression never changed. Her haunting emerald eyes don’t hold even the slightest hint of pain in them. If nothing else, the trance kept her from suffering. I brush the loose strands of hair away from her face, then snuggle the fuzzy bear in, and gently close her eyes for the last time.

  There’s still no way she could ever be returned to her family. It’s best for them to remember her how she was, not like this. The only good to be found in this dark moment is the fuzzy brown bear clinched in next to her. Sure, it might be a silly thing, but it helps to know that he will always be with her. No one should die alone. Thanks to her fluffy friend, she never will be.

  Sitting in a puddle of vomit, clutching the lifeless girl, is not the way this should’ve ended. My emotions sway between hatred toward an unfair world, and grief for a family that will never heal from this, with a bit of self-loathing thrown in for good measure. You would think after all these years I would be better at accepting defeat. After all, that’s just who I am. But holding another failure in my arms makes every one of those old scars bleed again. Even the motivation to escape seems missing in the face of this latest disaster.

  That is until my
ears pick up the one thing you never want to hear in a place filled with death.

  Breathing.

  Chapter 6: Thief in the Night

  Buried in the dark, inky gloom are long chains of slow and torturous breathing. Have they been here the entire time? Did they just show up? I guess it doesn’t really matter since they’re here now. All that’s left is to remain still as a corpse and listen to the silent visitor.

  My monster, on the other hand, is much less patient. He’s already rattling his cage with the idea of going out in a blaze of glory and dead bodies. The only way to restrain him is by pointing out the obvious differences between this gentle breath and the choppy Eutherians. They snarl and snort in very disgusting ways. You can actually hear the wind swirling through the crushed bones of their faces. This is calm and smooth without any of that nastiness. So this leads me to believe it has be something else. Hopefully something with a lower rage to fang ratio.

  The intrigue lures me closer to the gloomy shadow instead of scrambling for safety. Hidden somewhere behind that thick blanket of darkness is the source of all this gut wrenching inhalation. I do take a few precautions, you know, just in case I’m completely wrong about this not being a giant bat. Mostly by wedging myself against a heavy box that should give me the necessary footing for a quick exit. Then I have to sit and patiently stare into the unforgiving void. After allowing my eyes a few minutes to adjust, a vague silhouette begins to form. It’s a thin shadow that seems eerily darker than the rest. Neither of us budge while waiting for the other to move. It sets with saintly patience, but I’m releasing enough sweat to form a small river flowing down my back.

  I eventually break our stalemate by tossing a large coin at it. (What can I say, patience has never been my best trait.) The heavy treasure manages to land without causing any visible change to the steady breathing. This consistency gives me the courage to lean in a little closer so the dancing lights can be used to help piece together a more complete picture. And though I can’t make out the exact details, it appears to be a silent girl leaning against the rough cave wall. That’s it, I’ve completely lost the desire to move any farther.