by Ben Archer
I quit wasting time and hurl the remains of the big bastard into the air. The force of the shove, combined with how little is left of him, sends pieces flying off in every direction. The surprised creatures scatter away from the ruckus for a brief moment. This is probably the closest I’m gonna get to having any kind of head start.
Sure enough, before the bloody bits even land, every corner of the room explodes in ear shattering cries. The repeated screams hammer into the base of my skull like rusty nails. The pressure feels as if it wants to burrow out from underneath my eyeballs. It also causes me to have to crawl on my hands and knees over to the girl.
The mad scramble has to begin before even reaching the wall. I scurry around in the complete darkness, trying to grasp in every direction at once; slime, bones, rocks, and eventually soft cotton! I tug at whatever my fingers have found, then take a quick glance at the forming wave of Eutherians ready to crash down. They’re already stacking on top of each other to create a solid wall of impending death.
It appears my head start is over.
With only a loose grip on the dangling girl, I have to just charge into the tight corridors like a raging bull. There’s no time for safety or caution with the herd closing in so quickly. We have to bounce wildly from wall to wall while attempting to stay driving forward. Of course my eyes are still doing their part to fill the darkness with gory pictures of several ruthless murders. There’s an endless picture show of severed limbs and slaughtered people playing on repeat. The worst part is the sick joy that comes with every kill. I feel the irrepressible smile stretching across my face.
HOLY HELL! THIS HAS TO STOP!!!
It’s bringing me thisss close to feeding myself to the bats just to get the twisted memories to stop! The only thing that keeps me going is the weight of the girl on my shoulder. Her life saves my sanity from going straight over a cliff. It’s right on the damn edge, but still…
The brutal images, bubbling fear, and constant banshee wails burrowing in my brain complete the trifecta of misery. I can only shout back and run harder. Somehow the physical pain of crashing into the walls helps deal with the rest of the mental madness.
When a violent pounding starts in the center of my chest, that isn’t wall-crashing related, I have to assume the lifeless girl is awake and beating me with her fists. The violent drum solo helps to loosen my already insecure grip. As a result, she tumbles away and all my fumbling hands can do is cling desperately to whatever they can find. That ends up being a handful of cotton and what might be an upper thigh. It could be an ass cheek for all I know, but I’m going to have to just keep holding on and running!
“PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE STOP KICKING ME!” my lungs explode from shouting at the wiggling girl. I doubt it will do any good, I can’t even hear myself over the bat screams. I yank the petite girl in closer, “Seriously, kid, you’ve gotta stop! I’m the good guy!” and she kicks harder than before. Not that I can blame her, I would be shitting myself if my ass weren't puckered so tight.
With no real hope of calming her down, I simply pin her against my chest so she can’t move anymore. A few bruises are better than becoming bat food. And there’s no need to try and see how close the monsters have gotten, their nipping claws say more than enough. Occasionally one will grab hold of my jacket and cause a hiccup in my steps. There’s nothing I can do about it except try to charge on through the dark a little faster.
Momentary relief comes in the form of an extra sharp twist in the tunnel. We happen to ricochet forward, while the pack gets tangled in a mess of twisted bodies. They clog the narrow tube and the delay allows me to find a better grip on the girl. While rearranging her I notice some of the screams are shifting to cries of pain. It seems the vile things are so frantic to continue the chase that they’re chewing through the fallen front line. But it doesn’t matter, we’re so close to the exit now that a faint light is cutting through the void.
I can finally see the terrified face staring up at me. Her innocent blue eyes trigger a brand new memory that consumes my world. This one begins with the pudgy smile of a newborn baby. His soft pink cheeks are wrinkled into two round dimples of joy. He’s a bundle of perfection wrapped in equally impeccable white linen. His hand-carved wooden crib looks oddly out of place in the cold steel room we’re in.
Gathered around him is a diverse crowd of important looking people. All of them are decked out in spotless uniforms and perfectly pressed suits to showcase their important status. They’re undoubtedly mutts; they all have a permanent smirk of arrogance and vampire cologne (AKA blood).
This has the distinct feeling of being a marvelous occasion. One of those where only quiet conversations and polite compliments are allowed. Everyone takes their turn hovering over the small child. If they’re planets, he’s the sun. All of them are gathered into tight groups except one lone person, and he’s a crowd all to himself.
His broad back is turned so all I can see is a smooth bald head and rich chocolate skin. The dark leather coat over his broad shoulders perfectly reflects the bright over-head lights. His solemn mood doesn’t seem to fit the casual celebration either. He never even touches the baby, only stands in trance-like adoration over him. The child responds with a confident stare that’s far beyond what a new born should be capable of.
Their unspoken bond seems to ignite something in both of them. The baby’s vibrant golden eyes shine unlike anything I’ve ever seen. They bristle with what appears to be an almost electric spark. The power radiating from inside him is as undeniable as the blistering sun on a hot day.
Then I discover the disturbing truth in the face of the woman next to me. What I originally took for admiration, is actually concentrated terror. The false beauty of this fake place melts away instantly. It suddenly feels as if the entire world teeters along the crumbling edge of a steep cliff. Whatever this kid is, he’s something alarmingly new.
A stray rock unsympathetically rips me from the unfolding memory before I get my answer. Even in the dim light I can see the considerable chunk of shoulder that’s gone missing. The rock’s jagged teeth have bitten off more than enough to leave the useless arm dangling by my side.
The girl still won’t quit struggling, and now, with only one good arm available, she’s quickly slipping toward the ground. I have to twist around awkwardly to regain even a loose grip. At least I can actually see her this time. I manage to wrap a hand up in the folds of her dress before she makes it all the way to the floor. This move has left me running backwards while barely clinging to her with my one good arm. There will be no pulling her up, or even turning around, so I have to remain focused on merely getting us through that exit. We’ve gotten so close that daylight is tickling the hairs on the back of my dangling arm!
Running backwards, dragging a pissed off kid, has allowed the bats to make up almost all their lost ground. Several sets of eyes and claws have already begun snapping eagerly from the black void. The growing light gives the kid her first real glimpse of the creatures chasing us. Her reaction is to try and kick the tenacious devils away. That makes it even harder to keep a grip on her.
The frustrated bats unleash several more war cries; each filled with spit, rage, and large chunks of freshly chewed meat. From this close their breath is almost as bad as their mind-piercing wails. Almost.
I slide sideways to bring a foot down on the skull of the lead bat. It drives his face into the rocky floor and begins a new chain reaction of bodies flipping end over end. As before, the beasts are torn apart by the more eager ones out back.
But no matter how fast they chew and tear, it won’t matter. We’re so close to the exit that I can lock my arm around the girl, then hurl us toward the sunlight! As we burst from the jagged mouth of the cave, a whispered named echoes down the halls of my mind, "Samael."
Only a few rays of light are brave enough to pierce the pregnant storm clouds. They bring with them the Eutherian’s most captivating memory yet. Overlapping the bright sun is the warm, happy face of th
e infant shining down. His pudgy cheeks are folded back into two wrinkly mounds of pure joy. Concealed behind his captivating smile, just barely poking out behind thin lips, is something that will change my life and our world forever.
A subtle, little fang.
Chapter 8: Misfit
Time and space warp chaotically throughout my fractured mind. While my body is free to soar from the mouth of the cave, my brain is still struggling to live in a reality where a pureblood vampire can actually exist. The shock of seeing the tiny fanged infant has thrown me into a world without sound, gravity, or physics. It allows me to casually drift along, floating weightlessly in the swirling wind and rain.
There are times in life when you know everything’s changed. That everything that comes after this will be different. You know, the famous “where were you when” moments? Well, this is one of those moments.
Clinging to the girl becomes a forgotten concern during my suspended animation. She drifts away freely as the cave, and all the horrifying beasts trapped inside, slowly fade into the distance. All that remains now is the inevitable meeting with the rigid ground.
Slammmm!!!
My bones rattle off the hard rock floor. Of course it’s the mangled shoulder that lands first. That’s immediately followed by the girl collapsing my lungs under her full weight. Every ounce of oxygen squirts out, and life zooms back to full speed with a thunderous new fury. Breathing is suddenly as useful as sucking on a collapsed garden hose. The harder I try, the less it works. I’m stuck alternating between the exasperated heaves of trying to regain the missing air and fighting against the images still playing through my faulty vision.
And if I weren’t already breathless, after seeing a rogue Eutherian bust out of the cave, I would be. He soars from the hole like a jail broke lion. His wings unfold into massive walls that hurl a flurry of rocks while hovering directly over me. The dust doesn’t bother me much, but the pebbles shoot out like miniature baseballs. They leave instant bruises behind.
I can tell where the beast lands even with my eyes covered. His considerable impact slams down just off to my left and, unfortunately, I can’t see much more than a vague outline due to my double vision. It appears the nightmares in my head are visibly overlapping with all the real world terrors. Of course this means I can’t really see any of them well. The one thing that’s becoming abundantly clear are the large amounts of steam rolling off him. The sizzling water gives him a look that’s an odd combination of anger and confusion.
It gets worse when blisters begin appearing all over his body. Even through the driving rain, his dark grey skin has become a disgusting patchwork of puss-filled sores. The wounds rapidly fill the air with the revolting stench of boiling flesh. My unfortunate opponent is obviously suffering from the Eutherian death ray known as “the Sun”. Even the heavy storm isn’t enough to shield him from its poisonous effects. The only mystery is why isn’t he running for shelter? He has to know what’s happening, right???
“You need to take your gross ass back into the cave.” As soon as the words “gross ass” leave my confident mouth, hateful canyons carve across his brow. They begin over his stubby nose and stretch all the way down around a deeply scowling mouth. Puffs of white smoke steadily pour from between the many cracks in his peeling skin. And absolutely none of this affects him. He hasn’t flinched or backed down in any way. I believe my overconfidence might have been a bit premature. And exactly one second later, I’m proven right in the worst possible way. The giant bat ignites as if drenched in gasoline! Where there was smoke, is now an all-consuming blaze that devours his entire body! Those giant wings have become nothing more than mountains of flames soaring in the air! And yet, still, none of this makes him run, scream, or even break the unflinching gaze he’s kept on me the entire time.
Instead, his response is to smother me with another one of those concussive roars. My ears throb from the sonic hammer bashing against the insides of my skull. This one feels far different than all the others I’ve felt today. It’s filled with the defiant rage of a cornered Grizzly Bear.
Now I’ve seen a lot in my extended life, and there have been many things that have tested the boundaries of my courage, but nothing, absolutely NOTHING, prepared me for the sight of a flaming giant hurtling down on me. A seven foot tall, twenty feet wide, burning tower of meat with a death wish and vengeance in his eyes. It’s more than enough to make me reconsider all the life choices that lead up to this terrible, terrible, gut-wrenching moment.
The fiery martyr’s first attack is deadly fast. His piercing claws miss, but not by much. His flames reach out to nibble my shoulder on the way by. The glass half full part of this is that his momentum sends him sliding pretty far down the gravely mountain. From here, he resembles a drunken bear trying to stand back up. His clumsiness gives me the extra time to either find a rock to throw, or maybe bury in the side of his thick skull. Unfortunately, my busted shoulder refuses to lift anything larger than a softball. I assume that would only piss him off, so we’re not off a great start here…
Well, at least I’m not on fire.
The tide turns when the brute attempts to fly. Since the thin skin of his wings were the first to melt away, he can only fall clumsily out of the sky. He has to settle for a lightning quick jump to make up the extended distance between us. Without much time to get away, I throw myself on the ground to compensate for the wounded arm. The plan is to use my legs to absorb most of the impact ─which would have been a wonderful idea if the fiery bastard didn’t crash down like a speeding train. It’s sudden, violent, and everything you wouldn’t want it to be. He lands so hard that my knees shoot all the way up past my ears.
Now he’s got me pinned down with massive weight and a bad attitude to match. I’m having a hard time doing anything other than merely keeping the snarling, biting fangs away. And they aren’t my only problem either. The all-consuming flames are snapping like rabid dogs every time he moves. They wilt my skin and fill the air with the smell of burnt hair. When I mistakenly reach into the blaze, the searing pain forces me to quickly reconsider.
I settle for some good ol’ fashion knuckles to his melting face. I’m not going for bone breaking power this time around, just pure speed. My fists dart in and out before the flames can do any more physical damage. The result is each punch sinking a little further into the disgustingly soft flesh. Burning hunks of meat fall from the bone with every new blow. My knee-jerk reaction is exactly that, a donkey kick that sends the howling creature flipping up the steep mountain.
Even on the brink of death he manages to land on his feet. Those oversized claws are digging a deep trench that helps to slow down his wild, uncontrollable slide. The farther he goes, the deeper it gets. He’s almost buried up to his thick waist by the time he stops.
Waiting at the end of the long ditch is a crazed bulldog, hunched over on all fours, sitting inside a self-dug crater. Even with one eye missing, he keeps his hateful glare permanently fixed on me. The smell of burning, rotten skin makes it unbearable to breathe around the roasting bat. Not even the driving rain can make it through his impenetrable flaming shell.
Only a crackling whisper leaks out when he releases another war cry. The sound gets lost somewhere on the way through his flaming throat. Likely from the missing skin that reveals all the exposed muscles underneath. They twitch and quiver as the flames lick them. He spreads his once massive wings and they’re barely more than a loose web of bones anymore. Even though flames have chewed throughout his entire body, he still won’t stop! That thing craves my death more than his own life! It’s hard to imagine having sympathy for something actively trying to kill you, but watching his leg muscles snap like guitar strings is heartbreaking!
This needs to end.
Now.
I immediately charge the hulking monster. Not wanting to repeat the scalding mistake from earlier, my shirt will be used for the flaming head this time around. That should save me from the fire, but not those damn swinging
claws. Even though both eyes have already melted away, I have to flip over his backside to escape them! I use one long motion to tear my t-shirt off and wrap it around the burning skull. From there I whip it back and forth savagely, trying everything possible to either break it, or pull it off his damn shoulders. My fingers sink in far enough to reach bone, and still nothing works! No matter how hard I twist, pull, heave, or snap, those infuriating claws never stop trying to find me!
I grab the scorched shirt to use as leverage to flip the son of a bitch over my shoulder. The only option left is to end this with my bare hands. What follows is an intense release of every emotion built up during my trip through Hell:
The FEAR of standing at the icy mouth of the cave.
The ISOLATION of wading through the darkness.
The DISGUST of the treasure room.
The HELPLESSNESS of failing the lost girl.
The HORROR of endless stolen memories.
The INCREDIBLE sight of a baby that shouldn’t exist.
All of it is discharged in a relentless barrage of bound fists. By the time it's done, my hands rain spilled blood over the tainted ground. And his head, still wrapped in my shirt, is hardly recognizable as ever having been human. My arms can’t even lift after I’m finished. All I can do is watch as the steady stream of fresh gore pours from them. The cave behind me growls from the angry beasts locked inside. They hiss and grind their anxious claws away on the stone walls. If another one escaped, all I would do is lay down and die. I barely have enough energy to flip them off ─but I manage it.
My extended grin (and finger) brings a frustrated growl that makes me believe they can still comprehend insults like this. The oh-so-satisfying moment is cut short by a stray flicker of cotton streaking in the corner of my eye. The flash turns out to be my rescued girl hauling ass across the mountainside; her burlap dress flapping in the wind. Then, just as abruptly, she’s gone… over a damn cliff.