Kaiju Rift

by Ian Woodhead

  Sure I do, because you spouting out the engine specifications of a Jenson Interceptor is really going to stop those two guardians from tearing me into wet lumps, small enough to fit down a grate

  What are you blathering on about, you idiot? Your guardians aren’t even here. We lost them, remember? Thanks to my advice and help, obviously.

  The captain so wanted to slap the smug bastard. Was he really so naive? He hurried over to the back of one of the cars, ignoring the memory strand’s predictable gabble of car statistics, and settled down behind it. From his position, he could clearly see the new God striding closer to this place as well as the appearance of a few foot-soldiers. The captain so wished he could share in the memory strand’s naive thinking, but sadly, that could not be the case.

  He heard a distinctive sound of something hard scraping along the concrete floor. So, he wasn’t alone in here. The noise came from somewhere behind him. He didn’t bother turning around to see what it was or, more to the point, who it could be. The scent of human had already filled his sensitive nostrils. From the faint scent of flowers hidden under sweat, fear and meat grease, the captain perceived his hidden guest to be a female. He didn’t bother informing the memory strand that they were not alone, nor did he try to find some way of punishing it. There was no need. The memory strand would no doubt be crawling under a metaphysical stone to hide in shame.

  The two guardians were back, and even from behind do this car, he saw they were early in the best of moods. The captain instinctively jumped when the pair crash through the plate glass windows.

  Don’t panic. They don’t know we’re in here. Try to stay calm. Don’t move and they’ll be gone in a few moments.

  His memory strand’s annoying naivety was back and in full force too. Was it really that idiotic? They’ve just smashed their way through the window. Of course they know I’m in here. Maybe it wasn’t just a lack of brains. He suspected it was more to do with the memory strand’s basic personality. The human had gone through his entire life expecting others to bow down to him and not ask questions. Ironically, the man’s arrogance had been one of the reasons why he’d decided to attach himself to the man. Being so full of itself clearly had not diminished the memory strand’s perceptiveness. It was correct about him being unable to flush it out of this host’s mind. He had left it too long. The memory strand was well and truly embedded in now. Not that he was too concerned. If it started to get too big for its boots again, he could always show it a few more scenes of his wife coupling with his brother.

  It smashed the glass in order to make you jump, to startle you. It is standard procedure. Make a sudden, loud noise in order to flush out the prey. Standard search techniques, that’s all. Now calm down, stop twitching, and be patient.

  The two guardians stopped moving. He almost believed it. That last about three seconds when it became clear that the new God was indeed striding towards the showroom and bringing along its associated familiars. The guardians were waiting for extra eyes. The flyer would swarm through the smashed window, circle the ceiling, locate him, and transmit his coordinates to the rest of the familiars. The captain gripped the fleshmelta and slowly pulled it towards him. The weapon was useless against guardians, but it was devastating against a bunch of flyers.

  We need to get out of here! He brought up the fleshmelta and aimed at the ceiling. The creature might be immune to the weapon’s energy, but the material up there certainly wasn’t. If he could bring the ceiling down on them, it might buy him enough time to get out of here!

  Don’t you dare. You can’t lose your nerve. They’re about to leave. You need to trust me on this.

  The power of the memory strand’s belief almost made him wonder if it could be right after all. That changed when the captain heard another noise. He glanced up. It was coming from the ceiling. It sounded like running feet. He moaned in annoyance and desperately looked for a better place to hide. It wasn’t the ceiling but the roof! It must be foot-soldiers, what else could it be?

  He ignored the memory strand coming up with a ridiculous excuse as to why another aspect of the new God’s familiars were almost on top of him. The captain took his gaze off the ceiling and the two stationary monsters and turned around. A pair of bright blue eyes stared at him through a gap between two cars. He ignored the human and focused on the back wall.

  When he spotted the first foot-soldier scrambling through a narrow gap, close to the ceiling, he so wanted to shout out in triumph just to reinforce the fact that, as he said all along, his memory strand knew fuck all about anything. Common sense got in the way and instead, he took aim and turned the creature into a dirty red wall stain. As expected, the two guardians reacted in typical fashion. They both released ear-popping roars followed by them charging towards the source of the fleshmelta blast, casually tossing aside any vehicle while got in their way. He scurried across the floor and dived behind a sturdier vehicle.

  Two more foot-soldiers had managed to clamber through the gap while he’d been occupied. One jumped onto the flat roof of the showroom office and lay flat while the other one hooked an arm through a hole in a vertical girder. The captain managed to liquidise the bastard before it could bring up its own weapon.

  Still think they’re going to pass us by? He so wanted to gloat but it now seemed pointless considering the slim chance they had of getting out of this in one piece. His last shot helped to triangulate his position. At this rate, the guardians wouldn’t need the approaching flyers.

  You need to take out that spotter!

  I’m so lucky to have you in me, he replied sarcastically.

  It’s not just you anymore. You have to save that woman too.

  You really are insane. I’m not saving any human. The best she can expect from me is a quick death. That is, if I decide to eat her face. Perhaps, I should do that? The energy I’ll receive from consuming her flesh might give me the much-needed boost I’ll need to get out of this situation alive.

  It’s time for you to choose whose side you’re on. Why can’t you admit it that your own kind have betrayed you? They’ll never accept you back.

  Shut up. I’ll deal with you and my current dire situation when I’m out of here and safe enough so I can work out what happened. As far as I’m concerned, the only one to betray me was that piece of excrement. By trying and failing to do the job that he alone was built to do.

  You’re wrong, man. Can’t you see that? Come on, you must have been human once.

  Something deep within him shifted when the memory strand said that, another memory strand, this one long forgotten. One that should have been purged thousands of years ago. He cannot allow the new strand learn of its existence.

  Why do you even care about what happens to the human race, Copperfield? You hate nearly everybody, including your wife. Do I need to remind you yet again of how you used to treat that poor woman?

  The two guardians charged into the heavy vehicle at the same time as two more foot-soldiers cambered through the hole and started to crawl down the wall. He wanted the rage and scream. Foot-soldiers were not designed to do that. Only his personal fighters should have that ability. This was yet another example of their meddling.

  “Enough of this,” he growled. The captain moved away from the vehicle and ran towards the wall, running straight past the cowering girl who doing her utmost to squeeze into a gap half her size.

  You didn’t stop to snack on her face. I suppose that’s a start.

  He leapt onto the wall and clamoured up, heading straight towards the closest foot-soldier who had made the fatal mistake of stopping in order to unclip the fleshmelta off its back. He roared before swinging his right arm out in a low arc. His long claws caught the fleshmelta’s stock. He pulled it out of the foot-soldier’s grasp and dropped it.

  “Your kind don’t belong crawling up and down walls,” he growled, scuttling towards the terrified creature. He grabbed its neck and pulled it off the wall. “Did your new master give you wings as well?” He releas
ed his grip and followed the screaming foot-soldier as it plummeted down. Its scream abruptly stopped when the creature smashed against the concrete. “I guess not. What a shame.”

  His memory strand’s urgent shouting reminded him of the foot-soldier’s companions who were, even now, getting ready to take him out. He scuttled closer to the roof of that office then slowed when he saw the remaining foot-soldiers suddenly clip their fleshmeltas on their back and run over to the edge of the roof and jump off it. What the hell were they doing?

  He found out the answer to that one when the roof on the other side of the showroom collapsed. The Goliath had arrived! One of its enormous legs slammed through the roof, its foot flattening one of the cars. Several flyers swooped through the hole, two of them heading straight for him while three flew towards the screaming female. He pulled up the fleshmelta and killed the two approaching flyers. Why won’t that annoying human stay quiet? Her noise had already attached the attention of the two guardians.

  Instinct told him to use the distraction to get as far away from here as he could. That gap which lead outside was just seconds away, but no matter how hard he tried, the captain could not do it. He moaned in frustration and fury when he finally realised why.

  The memory strand had located and dug up the other memory strand, the one that he should have purged all those thousands of years ago when he too suffered the fate that he unleashed upon Copperfield. He was close to blacking out. If that happened while still inside, then he really would die. Did that memory strand not understand that if he died, then so would he?

  The captain leapt off the wall and onto the roof of a car. A single fleshmelta bolt almost ended him right there. He glanced to his left and found the two foot-soldiers hadn’t left after all. The bastards had taken up position at the other side of the showroom.

  Those two guardians had already boxed her in. She wasn’t going to survive this if he didn’t do something drastic. He jumped off the car roof, clamped up the Goliath’s leg then threw himself onto the back of a guardian. He dug his claws in and, with his free hand, punched a sizeable hole through the creature’s armoured carapace. His strength had increased tenfold since their last encounter. The guardian flung its head back and the bone stubs positioned around the base of the creature’s neck slammed into the captain’s forehead. He growled at the sudden pain and lost his grip. He had to roll away to avoid the furious guardian from stomping on his head. He scrambled to his feet, ran through the other guardian’s legs, and squeezed between the two vehicles which shielded the woman from the monsters. “Come with me,” he growled. “We don’t have much time.”

  The ungrateful bitch responded to his help by shrieking even louder and trying to get under one of the cars. “I so wish I could leave you here to die.” He grabbed her leg, pulled the struggling woman back to him, lifted her up, and punched her hard in the face. Her body immediately went limp. The captain threw her over his shoulder and ran for the wall, fully aware that they were all after him how. He tried to keep at least one of those guardians between them and those foot-soldiers. That worked fine until he leapt onto the wall. He scaled the wall, while dodging from those two foot-soldiers. Just as he reached the hole, one of those bolts caught his left foot. Both the captain and the memory strand screamed as the superheated plasma turned bone, muscle, and plate armour into stinking red slime.

  He pushed the woman through the hole and followed her out, both landing in long grass behind the showroom. Although both he and the memory expected the pain of losing his foot, the process started by that interfering memory strand could not be halted. His long-buried memory, the remains of who he was back when he too was human, could not be stopped.

  The captain unclipped the fleshmelta and placed the stock under his elbow then threw the woman over his back again then hobbled as fast as he could away from the back of the showroom. He reached the tip of a hill at the same time as he saw the Goliath move forward. Rough land, wild trees, and thick vegetation covered the floor below.

  A thick grey fog rolled across the landscape of his mind. The captain pulled the woman from his back and dropped her down the slope. He threw his fleshmelta down too. He had run out of time. He threw his body forward at the same time as that long-buried memory strand finally burst free.

  ***

  Tirok Nar held up his muscular right arm, made a fist then spread out his fingers. The rest of his hunting party dropped to one knee and waited for him to issue the next command. He picked up a handful of the reddish dirt, rubbing it between his thumb and fingers before dropping the stuff. Tirok gave his digits a cautious sniff. The faint smell of old spoor on his fingers. This pleased him greatly. This land wasn’t as dead as it looked.

  There were no tracks, other than the tell-tale signs made by the demons. Tirok gritted his teeth. What made him fall into the trap of calling the new plague of stranger predators demons? He was their leader, the only one capable of leading his people out of this supposedly dire situation. That was not going to happen if he started thinking the plague were a curse brought upon the tribe from some vengeful God.

  The plague could have taken all the animals just like those vile creatures ate the Keeshar tribe, as well as half their own tribe, but Tirok refused to believe that the land was completely divided of all life. He knew that was not true anyway, his scouts had already reported back that there still was life beyond the caverns and this corroborated their reports. This spoor was no more than a couple of days old.

  One of the hunters shifted their position. He gritted his teeth in annoyance. Was it so difficult to stay still for such a small amount of time? Tirok did not need to turn around to know who could not stay still. His second-in-command, Bailin Cun, coughed. What had he done in a previous life to deserve such an incompetent waste of skin?

  He was fully aware that Cun had been doing everything in his power to undermine Tirok’s authority. He even had the nerve to announce to the selected hunters that leaving the safety of their cavern was a bad idea. He had also told anyone willing to listen that the Gods were still angry over their tribe invading the land belonging to the lesser men, and the plague were in fact demons, sent by the Gods as punishment.

  The man had the heart of a rabbit and the tongue of a snake. If the position of second-in-command hadn’t already been given to Cun by Tirok’s father before he died, then Tirok would have pushed the man off a cliff long ago.

  The man had been sowing the seeds of unease even before the arrival of the plague. What could he do? Cun was, according to tradition, right to voice his doubts. It was the way. Their tribe believed in the spirit of balance, of harmony.

  He unclenched his fist and stood up while keeping his gaze fixed on the horizon, ready to flee at the first sign of the return of the plague. Bailin Cun and three of the tribe’s finest hunters stood up. He was aware of Cun’s muttering but chose to ignore it. He had much more important worries to consider without having to admonish the man for breaking the rule of silence. The other hunters wouldn’t listen to him anyway. Tirok had purposely chosen men loyal to him alone.

  Tirok lead his men along the track until he reached the marker which once separated the two territories. The weather-beaten wooden pole still had the skull belonging to one of the lesser people. Cun muttered something about turning around and going back before the demons discover them. He ignored him; the man knew nothing. Tirok bent his legs until he was level was the skull. The lesser men were smaller than his tribe, but what they lost in stature, they made up in pure physical strength. Even their women were stronger than any of his men. He wondered if there were any lesser people left in this world.

  They probably thought that his tribe were Gods when they invaded this territory two seasons previously. Despite their superior strength, the lesser people were still no match for their tribe, not when it came to hunting. The lesser people hunted their prey by creeping up on them, preferring to tackle the prey close up. His hunters were skilled in the use of spears. They were able to cut dow
n the hunters belonging to the lesser people without losing a single life.

  Perhaps it had been a poor decision to invade their land. If the lesser people had still been here, their presence might have slowed down the advance of the plague enough to allow his tribe to traverse through the mountain range and get far enough away to start anew. Alas, that had not happened.

  One of hunters gasped. He spun around, expecting to see the plague bearing down on them. Instead, he found himself staring at the largest pile of meat that he had ever seen in his entire life. A large herd of long tusks had just emerged from within a large forest. He tightened the grip on his spear and unconsciously massaged his rumbling stomach. They couldn’t hope to bring down an adult, not with so few men, but any young ones within the herd would prove to be easy pickings.

  Cun had already started his tiring speech, saying that this was a bad idea, that taking food belonging to the Gods would curse them all, that it was better to leave them and find food elsewhere.

  Thankfully, none of the others took any notice and followed Tirok through the long grass, towards the long tusks. They were only halfway across when Tirok had to slam a hand over his mouth when they stumbled over the corpse of a small long tusk.

  It took them just a couple of minutes to slice off enough meat to stop the remainder of their tribe from starving when the freezing began. He was already planning to return with more men when Cun began to moan in distress. He was close to giving him something to moan about when his own eyes bulged as a conical spear pushed up through the earth beside him and punched through the tender flesh between one of his hunter’s legs.

  Tirok dropped everything and backed away from the carcass, fully aware that the ground was now shaking everywhere. The two remaining hunters and Cun fell to the floor, each one wailing and begging the Gods to spare their miserable lives.

  Several more spears pushed through the earth followed by their owners. Tirok stopped moving when he became aware of at least two or the creatures had taken up position directly behind him.