by Mark Tufo
“He is either the smartest creature I have ever encountered or the dumbest. I could ascertain nothing, other than he wishes to eat. I think he is a blob of slow-thinking stomach.”
“Sounds like my Henry.” I thought longingly back to my English Bulldog. “Ask him why he wants to help us.”
She did so and seemed even more exasperated.
“And?” I prodded.
“He said ‘food.’”
“Is it possible someone offered him food to help?”
“I still suspect it is more likely we are the food. We need to find another way.”
“It’s ‘we’ again?”
“My options are limited, so it would seem.”
“Well, I’m glad that out of all the possibilities in hell I’m the one you’d most rather give a go.”
“We have sarcasm in my world.”
“Good,” I told her, “then you fully understand what I just said.” Goober started vibrating like he was working a jackhammer. I stepped back some more, thinking he was getting ready to explode. Something was pounding on his insides as it worked its way up to his mouth.
“Look, it’s his last meal come to say goodbye. That could be us soon,” Linnick said.
What fell out of his mouth completely stunned me; Linnick had to ask what it was.
“It’s a fucking Pop-Tart packet.” I thought about going to pick it up to see if there was a message hidden inside or something, but it was covered in about an inch of goo. I wisely thought better of it. (The packet itself was the message anyway.)
“Food,” Goober said. “More food.” His arm formed out from his body and he pointed to the foil, which, when I looked closely, I could see had some small holes in it—not from teeth; Goober’s stomach acid was breaking it down.
“You seem pretty excited about a small metallic package; is there a chance you could tell me why?”
“It’s a message. Tommy, the person who asked for my help here, loves those and eats them all the time. Though, I’m not sure how he gets a hold of them anymore.”
“So that’s something this Tommy used to enjoy? Before you decide to jump into the eating machine over there, have you thought that perhaps this is all that remains of your friend?” Linnick’s small arm was pointing to the packet that was dissolving even faster now that it was exposed to the atmosphere.
“Not until you just said it, no.” I was being truthful.
“It is unlikely to find any type of help nor aid here, Tallboat.”
“I found you,” I told her.
She didn’t have a retort for that one. Not like she could say that she was only with me because it suited her needs; I was sort of using her against herself, if that makes sense. I felt it in my bones that this was Tommy’s way of telling me to do this, and I needed to go. But I’d be lying if I didn’t want Linnick to go with me. For whatever reasons, we were bonded together. She was right, allies were few and far between and I wanted her to come. Did I like her? I guess I did; she was a companion, and as far as saving each other’s lives we were even. Plus, I had to hand it to her, she was a wealth of information. As a team, we had the brains and the brawn. Well, she had the brains anyway. I was bigger than her, at least, so that gave me brawn over her. And, well, I could run way faster. Not a horrible quality when pretty much everything wanted to kill you.
“Goober…so, I just climb inside you and we get through the gate and past the demons?” I asked.
“Food,” he said, merrily enough.
“Well, that was a definitive answer,” Linnick retorted.
“Alright, let’s think this out. Any chance we have of getting out of this world involves going through that gate and the only way through that gate, that we have so far, is in Goober’s ass. Is that about right?”
“You are presenting a very limited amount of information and molding it to fit your needs,” Linnick said, much too astutely for something that looked like it might be a distant cousin of the cockroach.
“I’m reaching here because I don’t have a whole bunch else to go on.”
“I am sorry, Tallboat, but this is where we part company. I will not risk all because you are in too much of a rush to seek out better alternatives.”
“I’ll miss your company, Linnick,” I said honestly as I set her on a small outcropping.
“Good luck in your quest. Though, I fear it is about to end violently.”
“Yeah, thanks for that. I hope you just plain get out of here,” I told her. “You ready, Goober?”
“Foooood.” He dragged it out slow and steady. Oh boy, did I get the warm fuzzies about this whole endeavor when he did that. Unfortunately, there is no sarcastic font when one is writing, so read between the words there. Goober turned around, presenting his posterior, and I was inching closer, debating the merits of this, when Linnick spoke up.
“I have had a change of heart,” she said.
I turned to look at her and was going to ask why, but that was completely unnecessary. I got my explanation and then some. There was a line of black a mile across and it was heading our way. It looked like the front of some savage storm, and I guess in some respects, it was. “Is that Polions?”
“Many of them.” She outstretched her arms, meaning she wanted me to pick her up and put her back in the relative safety of my pocket, although that was about as effective as hiding under the covers when there’s a psychotic killer clown in your closet.
“Doesn’t seem like something they would do. Gather forces, I mean.”
“They don’t. Everything I have been taught is that they are fiercely solitary figures; that they will even kill others of their own kind and feed off them.”
“Must make mating difficult. Kind of fucks up the mood when your date tries to kill you. Although, I’ve dated some beautiful women, I’d let a couple of them take a stab at me before we got down to business. If you know what I mean.”
“I would imagine even for your world, your problems are significant,” she said.
“You have no idea. You ready for this?” I asked as I stepped closer to Goober.
“Food, food!” he yelled. Not sure if it was for urgency because of the imminent arrival of our new guests or he was excited because there were now two things to eat.
Goober’s ass or fighting a monster, blind? I’m not ashamed to say it was almost a fucking toss-up. I placed a foot into Goober like one might test the stability of a muddy bank along a river. My foot sank in, surprisingly easy. The tingle I felt crawling up my shin should have been a red flag, but one tends to think of other things when a mile-wide shit-storm is barreling down on you. The tingle got much more pronounced when I was in up to my junk and it wasn’t in a good way. Like maybe I was pissing on an electric cattle fence kind of tingle—where my balls were going to ache for an hour or two. I’d once been playing goalie in a street hockey game and I caught one of those orange plastic puck balls in the pelotas, yeah, all you guys that have played before know what I’m talking about; what kind of pussy wears a cup to a street game? Felt like I was going to puke for a couple of hours afterward. This was verging on that. I panicked; how could I not? It got a lot worse when I tried to pull out. Goober’s innards had clamped down on my leg and I was held fast, as if he were made from rapidly drying super glue.
“I’m not sure about this, Linnick.” Oh, there was a definite hysteria to my voice.
“I am here, Tallboat. Together we will make it through this.”
The words held a measure of comfort, it just wasn’t enough to stave off the welling terror; besides, she was not experiencing what I was, yet. To make matters worse, Goober had seen the approaching enemy and was having none of it. Three appendages emerged from his sides; they were grabbing at me and pushing me in much quicker than I was prepared for. He was shoving me up…there. Although, who the hell am I kidding? A glacial pace would have been too fast. Linnick screamed when she came into contact with Goober’s inner sanctum; I was too far gone for that. I’d stopped fighting it; I h
ad blazed past the first stages of shock and was tearing into the second. I don’t remember really having a thought at this point; it’s a defensive mechanism. My mind was shutting down to the horror of being eaten alive, because yeah, that was what was happening.
I watched the flesh of my leg melting off. I should have known; I’d seen the holes in the foil packets—had to have some pretty powerful digestive juices to do something like that. I stopped caring the moment I glimpsed the white of my shin bone. The rubber band holding my brain together pretty much snapped at this point. By the time my head was pulled in, I drank greedily from Goober’s body slop in the hopes that the suffering would come to a quick and painless end. The end came— that’s sure enough—far from painless, though. I’d thought I was well past the ability to feel anything more. That was until I drank of the green acid. My tongue had half dissolved before the liquid could even pour its molten heat down my throat where it spread the fire into my belly and like a bad enchilada, it was ripping through my large intestines, small intestines, and rectum, and then just to ratchet everything up a notch, my anus started to melt. Friends, I’ve been injured in more ways than should be humanly possible. I have been shot with multiple projectiles; my shattered bones have pierced my skin; I have had flesh rent from my body in wallpaper sized sheets and have bled profusely from every orifice. None of it, combined, matched what was going on in and around my anus. It was like Satan himself was grudge fucking me with a flaming, barbed penis.
“Who’s your bitch, who’s your bitch!” I added that with my last breath, just for effect.
Then it was over, there was a nothingness. No purgatory, no afterlife, no feelings of regret, of things left unsaid or undone. I was not a ghost, specter, spirit, ravaged soul, just absolute nothing. In my misinformed youth (when I thought I knew everything and was arrogantly certain of my unfounded beliefs), this is what I figured death to be—just…nothing. When you died you simply flat-out ceased to exist. You didn’t give a shit about sweet Patty Sue or pretty Johnny. You didn’t care, you didn’t even remember that you never got that raise, a better job, a nicer car. You never regretted not seeing the Grand Canyon. It was just over; the flame was out. As humans, we are much too egocentric, and too fearful, for most to believe in this, yet I did. Sure, that was before I knew better; I’d not even entertained the idea that there wasn’t one world, but multiple ones, all with varying degrees of life after death. How could I have possibly known that more happened after you left the normal plane of existence? I’ve met with several versions of afterlife, had my beliefs blown away and rebuilt a hundred times, and finally here it was: Nothing. And I was cool with that.
Chapter 9
THE GATE
“Food,” Goober said almost ecstatically as the human and the Breatine assimilated into his folds. His next thoughts were on the approaching Polions and then, “Need to get far away.” He’d never seen so many of them together and had no desire to figure out why that might be. He’d added nearly half again his bulk, yet moved with a fluid grace as if he’d eaten a bowl of helium. He headed to the demon guarded gate without hesitation; he passed through without a second glance. Even the demons that had been assigned to the gate for all eternity and had seen nearly everything that could happen down here were more interested in the approaching horde. Some had even broken ranks to get a better vantage point. Goober shuffled on, pleased that he was able to convince the human to travel inside of him. If he’d had the capability to whistle in happiness he would have done so.
“Stonemar, what are they doing?” Orderg asked. Both were of the lower demon ranks, lacking wings and lacking the favor of the great one. They were forever relegated to the gates, in human terms, they’d pulled fire watch permanently. The ten thousand years would seem an eternity, but even here, demons died. Not generally protecting the gates, as there were very few foolish enough to attempt an assault. Most deaths were from bored higher demons or even occasional fights among the ranks. These, they had to keep themselves amused and sharp, should a true battle ever ensue. Sometimes there were “accidents.”
“I have asked you before not to speak to me.” Stonemar said, staring at the approaching phenomenon
“Oh, for crying out loud. It has been nearly a thousand years. Can’t you just let it go?”
“You want me to just forget that you stabbed me, Orderg?”
“You woke me up in the middle of the night by placing your filthy hand over my mouth and I thought I felt the press of hot steel against my neck.”
“Somehow you thought my amulet was a knife?”
“I was asleep, Stonemar.”
“I had a way for us to escape this existence. I was hoping you would come with me, that was before I almost bled out on the ground.”
“Escape?” Orderg laughed. “I have told you a thousand times. Escape is not possible.”
“It was.”
“Oh. Now it’s not?” Orderg asked.
“It was nearly a thousand years ago, like you said. The opportunity has since passed. It was not that you stabbed me that had me so upset, it was that you did not finish the job.”
Orderg sighed hard. “The humans that come down here are always babbling about missing their family and friends, and I never knew what they were talking about until I met you, Stonemar. I consider you my framily. Your petulant silence is making this infernal hellhole even more difficult. As I have said innumerable times, I am sorry.”
“It was a passing folly anyway; in my youth, I thought hastily. There is no escape.”
“Are we framily again?”
“If it will make the next few thousand years tolerable then we are framily.” Stonemar grinned briefly then returned to the event upon the horizon approaching them at speed.
“Do the Polions realize that not one of them has stepped over this line in nearly fifteen thousand years?”
“Yet, they are coming this way.”
“Why, what could they possibly want?” Orderg said to himself.
“It is likely they will change course before making contact.”
“And if they don’t?”
“I may find my way out of here after all. Legion One! Form ranks!” Stonemar shouted out.
There was an overwhelming silence as the gate demons got back into position. Most did not know what to expect; only a handful of older demons had seen any kind of battle, but the last was one to remember. A large group of dungeon demons were doing their best to throw off the brutal iron yoke of their masters. Hundreds had slithered out from their holes as one; they had fought with the tenacity of the hopeless; nothing left to lose and nothing worth caring about. They were one line away from breaking free before the gate demons rallied. The cost had been savage on both sides, but even more so for the dungeon demons—not one was left alive, nor were the ones that had taken no part in the uprising been given quarter. They were rounded up and executed as if they had been willing collaborators.
The line of darkness moved closer. It was only Stonemar that thought perhaps there was some link between the Sludgenous that had just passed and the Polions that now approached. He could not figure out the significance of the event or the connection there, but regardless, it wasn’t his job to figure it out…his job was to keep in what was supposed to stay in and more importantly, keep out what was banished from his side of the gate. For the first time in a very long time, Stonemar felt fear. It was an unfamiliar emotion and he did his best to suppress it.
“Orderg, go and rouse the reserves,” Stonemar said without turning away.
“I will not be back in time for the initial contact.” Orderg was angry. The only blood he had ever spilled had been that of his friend some thousand years ago, and he was thirsty for the taste of it.
“Then you had better hurry!”
“It is merely Polions; we will easily defeat them. Do you send me away because you are still angry?”
“I’m ordering you to get the others because I believe we are about to be tested to our limits a
nd I will not be the second commander to fail these gates.” Orderg lumbered off, running with great side to side strides. “Fool,” Stonemar said quietly. “I’m sending you off so that you will not die.” Something epic and historic was on the horizon; he only wished he had the vantage point to witness it better. Everything in Stonemar demanded that he go out and meet the enemy head on, but his own glory had to come second to holding the line. The gate held its own powers that would aid in its defense and Stonemar could not ignore that; it might be the only thing that tipped the battle in their favor.
As for most creatures that live in the depths, the darkness was not unwelcome. Stonemar’s vision adjusted quickly to the pitch black that had descended on the border; he was happy now he could at least see the enemy. That quickly faded when he saw how many of them there were. If he had been asked “how many?” previously, he would have guessed a number a fraction of what he now saw. His seven hundred plus had little chance of holding back the hundred thousand or so that were about to assail his gate, and Polions were not easily killed.
There were no battle cries as the two groups engaged. Long and strong tentacles struck out with withering precision, gripping and crushing every gate demon they came into contact with. Stonemar ducked as one whipped over his head. He spun and sliced through it in one deft movement, the arm shot back like an emptied sling shot. The creature ran forward, almost as if to retrieve its lost arm.
“I had forgotten how ugly you are,” Stonemar said as he took two running steps and leaped high, bringing the point of his spear down into the mid-section of it. The six arms shook violently while reaching around its body, slapping at Stonemar’s thick legs. The eyes, which were wrapped completely around the squid-shaped head, were open wide in terror, though they could see nothing; it was blind in the darkness its presence created, a part of its proscribed torture. Stonemar had broken the creature’s back when he’d landed on it and its back legs no longer worked, though the front two attempted to roll it to the side in an effort to shake the guard off. Stonemar jumped from the dying body to engage the next. He thrust his spear, catching the beast in the chest; a hoof kicked out and snapped the air by the side of his head. He drove deeper, until the point pierced the heart. Its heart burst like an overfilled hot water bottle. Flesh shrapnel tore through its innards, stopping it immediately. Stonemar did not have time to revel in his kills; he had to move on to the next and the next.