A Shrouded World 4

by Mark Tufo

  “Zombies. Fuck! I hate this world,” I said. “Maybe we can get a couple of wendigos to show up just for the fun of it.”

  “There is nothing fun about them,” Kalandar replied. We were all running. As we came over a small rise, we saw the horde; it wasn’t city-busting big, but certainly enough to overtake one man and have plenty left over to take out two more and a demon.

  Otter was on a small ridge; we were a few hundred yards away. We could offer covering fire, but headshots from this distance were no easy feat, not even for sniper Jack; not with this many moving targets.

  “What is wrong with them?” Kalandar asked.

  “Manmade virus destroys the host and takes control of all brain and motor functions.”

  “How is it transmitted?”

  “Scratches can, and definitely by bite. Why?”

  He was heading right down into it.

  “Mike, what if he turns?”

  “A demon zombie. I think we travel into a whole new realm of fuckdom.”

  “That’s helpful.”

  “Not sure how you expect me to answer this. In normal situations, the virus does not have the ability to jump from the human genome, though some ignorant asses were forcing it into our closest relatives. I’ve got to think that he doesn’t share much in common with us. I’m thinking he’s safe.”

  “This seems like a ‘hold my beer’ moment,” Jack said, more to himself.

  It was still debatable whether Kalandar could be turned; eaten, however, was not in question, at least as far as the zombies were concerned. As soon as they caught sight of the large meal, a fair number headed his way.

  “Any ideas?” I asked.

  “Yeah, don’t get killed.”

  “And I’m the helpful one,” I said.

  “Do not follow!” Kalandar bellowed.

  Speeders were making a beeline for the demon. Not to digress, but that’s a misnomer. Ever watch a bee fly? They make more twists and turns than a Six Flags roller-coaster. Pretty much like my wife at the grocery store. A trip for milk can be a mile and a half hike up and down the aisles. Anyway, they were heading straight for him. He looked back toward us, took a couple more quick strides, then got down into a three-point stance that looked very similar to what a lineman on a football field would do.

  “Is he planning on running through them?” I asked Jack.

  “Mike, I’m not sure how you think I would know.”

  “You’re Air Force.”

  “I’m sorry man, I realize that a Marine’s idea of a well-rounded meal involves a variety of colored crayons, but this is above my pay grade too.”

  “In fairness, the purple were always my favorite.”

  “Mike…”

  He was telling me to shut up without saying it. My wife usually got to this point a few times a day; Jack was showing considerable constraint. I could feel the hair at the nape of my neck begin to stand, and even that on my arms; I could feel it rub against my clothing as it shifted. I grabbed Jack and pulled him back. No clue what was about to happen, but it wasn’t going to be good. At first, I wasn’t sure what I was hearing. It was a crackling like some obnoxious movie-goer attempting to open the largest bag of potato chips they could by continually waving the giant cellophane bag back and forth as quickly as they could. I’m sure I’m in the minority here, but that sound drives me nuts; nails on a chalkboard are a siren’s song in comparison.

  The crackling was increasing in volume and intensity; it was the air itself popping. I fully expected to see electrical arcs being formed. Kalandar slowly stood as he pulled his right fist from the ground, bringing with it a thick brown funnel of swirling energy. I don’t know if it was the color of the power he was using or just dirt mixed up in it to give it that hue. Didn’t matter; whatever it was, it was powerful. He was straining to bring the column-containing hand high above his head. The funnel, growing in width, was easily a foot across as he brought it up. He then reached up with his left hand and pulled at the edges of the power. I watched as it bisected; he then pulled both his hands down, the force spreading around his body like a personal force field. I thought it was unbelievably cool, but it sure did leave the rest of us out in the cold.

  The zombies were close enough to him that I could see the hunger in their eyes, the prize nearly in mouth, so to speak. The dirt by Kalandar’s feet began to ripple and, like a stationary tidal wave, increase in height until it was nearly knee-high on him, which put it at my chest. Then, as if someone had released the floodgates, the wave moved away from him in a complete circle. The effect was instantaneous as it washed over the zombies. Their forward progress was immediately stopped; hair and clothes were the first things to ignite in a hellish blue flame that quickly burned through skin, lipids, and muscle. It seemed to happen in super slow motion as skin blackened and fell away, exposing tendons, muscles, and veins that also blackened and disintegrated into ash. For solitary seconds their bones stood before they were also carried away on the demon-made breeze.

  I’d been so consumed with what I was watching that I didn’t really take notice as the wave crested and crashed not more than five feet from where Jack and I stood. No part of me thought that this wave only dealt with zombies—we also would have been flash fried had we been within range. As it was, Jack and I took a few involuntary steps backward, though it would have been entirely too late. More than three-quarters of the zees had been disposed of; Kalandar looked like he’d just sprinted a marathon—this is where we could lend assistance. Otter, who was still in the fight, kept firing, not able to enjoy the same show we had just witnessed. Jack tapped my shoulder and we moved quickly to lend our fire to the fray. I was not all that thrilled to step one toe across that line of darker earth, but there was no option to go around it. If we did, we’d expose Otter to increasing danger—and also Kalandar, who looked wiped out. Whatever force he used had drawn a considerable amount of energy from him.

  I don’t know if the zombies were thinking our direction was entirely too dangerous and were turning a blind eye or if they were too focused on Otter, but we got nary a glance as we advanced and fired. Under the withering assault, Jack and I were able to turn the tide; I could hear Kalandar’s labored breathing as he followed behind. Ten minutes later and the only zombies still alive-ish were slowly crawling their broken bodies toward us. I pulled out my sidearm and dispatched a dozen or more with shots placed at the backs of their heads. Jack and Otter were doing the same. Kalandar was much more personal about it as he squashed them under a large foot that looked very much like an elongated hoof, although upon closer examination I think it was footwear of some sort. He was just striding from downed zombie to downed zombie, pushing their brains into the dirt. Effective, but seriously unappealing.

  “I have not felt quite so alive in a great while!” Kalandar said as he twisted down on the last of the zombies’ skulls, making it into a mash-type mixture. I got a chill thinking about what it would be like to find myself underneath that hoof-boot.

  “You all right?” Jack asked, not looking up as he reloaded his weapon. I was high-stepping over bodies to check on a visibly shaken Otter.

  “I used to like watching zombie movies; I think now I’m going to pass,” he said.

  “Funny, I feel the same way. Any bites?”

  “I’m good, none got close enough.”

  “How are your ribs?”

  “They’ll hurt as soon as the adrenaline wears off, I imagine. Where’s Trip?”

  “We had to give him back.” I caught him up to speed. “He left, like, a future diary, said it was important we come and save you. I suppose that since you’re alive, I should check out the next part.”

  It started off in traditional Trip style, not sure why I would have expected anything different: “Did you know the word ‘helicopter’ was not created in the way you would expect? It is broken into helico, which is Greek for spiral, and pter, like pteron, for wing—think pterodactyl.” I read that out loud for everyone.

&nbs
p; “Bullshit,” I said under my breath.

  “Naw, he’s right; learned that in my helicopter pilot training class,” Otter said. He appeared to be getting some color back in his features.

  “Put it together yet?” Jack asked.

  “I think I can manage a two-piece puzzle,” I told him.

  “Just making sure.”

  “So, where do we get you a helicopter?” I asked Otter.

  “We don’t, only the military is authorized to have those.”

  “What? Don’t you have any traffic choppers that fly irritatingly overhead and tell you how many thousands of cars are between you and home? About as useless as a weatherman who tells you to look out your window to see if it’s raining.”

  “Nothing like that.”

  “What about just regular news channel helos?” Jack asked.

  “Government-owned.”

  “The government owns the news? Liking this place less and less,” I said.

  “What’s the rest of the journal say?” Jack asked, trying to grab it from me.

  “It says ‘I’m going to kick your ass if you try that again.’” I was flipping through a series of blank pages. “Here we go,” I read aloud. “If you’re all dead, don’t bother, but if you’re still alive, COME AND GET ME! Oh yeah, we’ll be at Hvergelmir. Might want to bring help, my understanding is there will be an archangel.”

  “I think you should say your goodbyes and head as far away from that location as you can,” Kalandar said. “You still have a few good years before your whistlers completely decimate this world. Enjoy what you can of it before then.”

  “Can you help us?” I asked.

  “Were you not there for our last encounter? Did you somehow miss something? Did you strike the wall so hard as to have memories pushed from your mind?”

  “So, is that a maybe?” I asked.

  “This one is not right in the mind,” Kalandar pointed to me but was talking to Jack and Otter.

  “I have no choice,” I said.

  “There are always choices, just not always good ones,” Kalandar replied. “It is not just the physical body that they can torment. Yes, they will do things that will make you beg for release—and then their true work begins. To trade out a moment of pain for an infinite amount of misery is not something to be trifled with.”

  “I don’t think that applies to me,” I said cryptically. The only one I thought knew my condition was Jack, and it wasn’t something I shared lightly. Kalandar caught on mighty quick, though. He paused and was looking at me.

  “I thought so, yet I chose to ignore it.” He had hunched down; we were about as close to eye to eye as we could be without me jumping up like a little kid.

  “What’s going on?” Otter asked.

  “They do not know?”

  I averted my gaze from him.

  “I know,” Jack said.

  “And this does not change how you feel about him?” Kalandar stood up.

  “Should it?” Jack asked defiantly.

  “I have never met what you would consider a ‘good one’ of his kind. The freedom tends to create a chaos within them—that and their diet, though I do not sense that from you. Perhaps that is why I did not see it clearly.”

  “Um, anyone want to tell the helicopter pilot what’s going on?”

  “He should know, it may inform his decision,” Kalandar said.

  I blurted it out. What was the sense of dancing around it? Couldn’t really lead up to it. Like, should I tell him I had a propensity for high collars and liked to walk around and tell people I wanted to suck their blood? That last part in a crappy Transylvanian accent, for anyone who wants to narrate my story.

  “I’m…a vampire.”

  And just as quickly, “Bullshit” came out of Otter’s mouth.

  “This is almost the worst part, the disbelief. I hate demonstrations.”

  “It’s true, Otter,” Jack said. “Just look around you: there’s a fifteen-foot demon, dead zombies everywhere. We’ve been fighting night runners and angels and a parasitic being is trying to take over—and this is where you’re going to draw the line?”

  “I’m sorry,” Otter said, reaching out a hand. “If that’s what you say you are, I believe you.”

  I took his hand and shook. I was thankful for Jack interceding, but I also noticed he didn’t go out of his way to explain his own enhancements—didn’t blame him, either, not sure if he was as uncomfortable with it as I was. Kalandar was looking in the direction Trip had left; looking at or for something.

  “Get close,” he grumbled. He reached down with both his arms. “Link hands.” I should have trusted him as much as I trusted the used car salesman who told me I had to have the body undercoating sprayed on for an additional eleven hundred dollars. I’d walked away from that deal, so why I felt the need to have my hand completely enfolded in Kalandar’s I don’t know. Jack grabbed the other, then we each grabbed one of Otter’s. We stood in that circle for close to five minutes, saying absolutely nothing. I’m sure there are people, men specifically, who are fine with standing around like this—it was not the case with any of us three. Entirely too much intimacy. I was about to ask what Kalandar was up to when I saw the telltale ripple heading our way.

  “Do not let go.” Kalandar gripped my hand hard enough that I winced; not being one to hoard, I passed some of that pain on to Otter.

  We were hit with a blast of air considerably cooler than the ambient temperature, and, as quickly as it came, it was over. Not much had changed as far as we were concerned, though the temperature had dropped and a heavy bank of black clouds were now rolling in above us.

  “What was that?” Otter asked, although we were all pretty sure what had just happened. A time variant had just swept over us.

  “It would seem fitting we have a storm coming,” Kalandar said. “I now must wrestle with the choice of going back from whence I came or going forward with you.”

  “You have that choice?” I asked. “Aren’t you still under our command?”

  “No, you broke the first rule the moment you stepped off the sacred ground on that mountain precipice.”

  “What? You’ve had free will this entire time, even now?” I was attempting to wrest my hand from his, he was not yielding. “Seems you could have told us that particular rule.”

  “Trust me, I was as surprised as I have ever been when you both walked with me. I at first thought it some sort of trap. Truly, it is the most basic of summoning rules. What would we have done had I told you? Stayed on that small ridge and played a game?”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have skipped my demonology 101 class,” Jack said. I could also see him trying to pull free of Kalandar’s iron vise-like grip. We had obviously let go of Otter’s hands and he now had a weapon pointed at Kalandar, for however effective that would be.

  “Now what?” I asked, gesturing with my head for Otter to stop. “I’m thinking you could kill the three of us easily enough; in fact, could have at any point after we stepped off that dais. You know, I told Jack we shouldn’t have left.”

  “Typical Marine; lie, deny, and counter blame.”

  “You both seem pretty cavalier about this,” Otter said, trying to gauge what was happening.

  “If he wanted us dead we would be, right?” I asked.

  “I was curious to see what was happening. Knowing that at any time I could leave if I felt the desire to.”

  “Just leave?”

  “Why are you pressing him on this?” Jack asked me.

  “It is true I am a demon. Does that make me evil? Are you not a demon as well?” he asked point blank. “And Jack over there, the strong silent one, I smell more than a little of the night runners we encountered, more than could be considered residue—it runs deep. Is he evil as well? Perhaps we are all evil and therefore I would not kill like kind.” He seemed mighty amused.

  “I’m not evil,” Otter said.

  “Now’s not the time to stand out,” I told him.

 
; “What are you going to do?” I asked Kalandar as the first fat drops of rain fell upon us. He upturned his face, stuck out a tongue easily a foot long.

  “I cannot even remember the last time I felt falling water. I do not wish to go back just yet.”

  I wanted to say “like we could do anything about it anyway,” but we all knew that.

  “Perhaps we should try to save this place and the others who are or will be infected,” he said.

  “You could be great PR,” I told him.

  “PR?”

  “Public relations—not sure there’s a person anywhere who doesn’t think that demons aren’t deranged murdering machines. But if you save this place, they’ll put up statues of you. Might not be life-size, too much copper—but yeah, statues.”

  “Mike, shut up,” Jack said. “Kalandar?”

  “We are going to need help if you want your friend back,” Kalandar answered.

  “Are we?” Otter asked. “Listen, I am truly sorry the both of you are stuck here, I am—but if the overseers are using him as a way to stop this, don’t the lives of billions take precedence over the lives of you three?”

  “Mike?” Jack asked. I had a notion of why it didn’t matter as much to Jack, he was damn near walking through purgatory himself. This boiled down to me. In the abstract, Otter was right, it would always be the right move to sacrifice the few for the many. Like I said, unless it was your ass in the few—that changes things.

  “You’re right.” I found a log to sit on, the rain coming down in sheets now. I hoped it could wipe the misery from me.

  “See, they are considered not evil, yet something still needs to be done. The angels will use Trip’s doorways. Perhaps wiping out worlds they don’t deem worthy, including mine. I will not allow that.” Kalandar spoke.

  “So, what do we do besides get pelted by rain?” I asked, not looking up. The driving rain was stinging my face; can’t imagine what it would do to my eyes.

  “We must split our forces; there are tasks that need to be completed. Jack and Otter need to find a large flying machine, and you and I are going to find help,” Kalandar said.