Immortality's Touchstone

by Mark Tufo

  Mikota did everything but bring his fist up to his chin in contemplation. “It is near to the time of the year of the great gathering. They may meet earlier if there is a great enough need.”

  “This is a great enough need.”

  “They care not what you believe,” he told me as if I needed explanation.

  “Fuck, Mikota, I get it. Lycan hate Old Ones, you hate Old Ones and more particularly, you hate me. Can I ask something specific?”

  He said nothing but gave me a very human nod, meaning: “go on.” It was definitely strange to watch a monster do something quite so basic.

  “If there ever was a war between our kind, it would appear you won. Besides my friend Tommy, who your kind killed, I haven’t seen any like me for way over a hundred years. So how many Old Ones have you fought personally?”

  “I have fought none,” he said almost proudly.

  “None? Interesting. So what, umm, do you attribute the recent Lycan troubles to?”

  A grizzly bear getting stabbed on his nose by disturbed hornets could not have looked any madder. He knew what I was doing. Being led into a trap by your own words is never a pleasant experience.

  “No answer? Well, I’ve got two for you. One’s named Xavier and the other is Lunos. I’ll have you note both are Lycan.”

  Mikota growled.

  “Yeah, grouse all you want, but it’s an Old One who risked his life to talk to you so we can put an end to an affliction that threatens the survival of both of our kinds, which was started by your kind. What more fucking proof do you need?”

  “Perhaps you should talk less and act more.”

  “If we live, and at some point we don’t kill each other, I would really love for you to tell all my friends that.”

  “I will send two Lycan back and the rest of us will go to your city of Denarth, if you but promise me one thing,” Mikota said.

  “I’m listening.”

  “When this is done, you and I will fight until one of us is dead.”

  I didn’t see much of a choice, and it made sense it was probably going to end like that either way. “Deal. I’ll kill you when this is over. I mean, we will fight,” I told him. He seemed mollified.

  He did indeed send two runners back; wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen. Cain looked about as happy to come with us as I did when I was a boy of eight and we went to Aunt Maddie’s house. It always smelled like boiled cabbage and she used to pinch my cheeks mercilessly. She had one of those fucking lap dogs that would always bite at my ankles whenever I turned around. I never got invited back after I locked the little asshole in the pantry in an effort to get away from him. He’d eaten an entire bag of radishes and later that night, once he’d been found and let out, he’d performed double duty in just about every room in the house. And by double duty, I mean puked and shit. Hey, at least it covered over the cabbage smell.

  I was going to make sure that at no point Cain was behind me or around me when I tried to sleep. If he got the chance to kill me it would end this sham of an alliance and he would be able to go back to skulking through life. We started at a pace that I felt reasonably confident I could keep. Little had I known this was more of a warm-up lap than anything. Once they felt they’d sufficiently stretched, we hit a gear I knew was going to be much more difficult to stay up with. Mikota ignored me with a grace I could only think related to royalty and pauper. I caught Cain a few times mean-mugging me. It was only a matter of time before he would see an opportunity to drag a razor-sharp claw across my jugular. I had to think the rest would join in once blood was spilled.

  “This sucks,” I mumbled. Mikota must have heard me; he said something in his native, guttural language and all the other hairies got a good laugh. “Fuckers,” I grunted, this elicited more laughter from the group. I got a breather about an hour in when one of the Lycan stepped on something sharp enough to pierce the thick sole of his foot. Almost sliced the rear pad completely off. One of them had what looked like Aloe and some other herbs; I didn’t spend more than a couple of seconds watching him get fixed up. First off, because I wasn’t welcome, second, because it was gross as hell. Third, I was sucking air in like it was in limited supply and I wanted to hoard as much to myself as possible in private. I didn’t pay much attention to anything else, well, because of the third thing I’d just said, but also because out of my peripheral vision I caught Cain slowly meandering, slash stalking his way over to me.

  “So soon?” I asked, turning to him.

  He shrugged before launching, his large arms splayed out to the side. He was swinging them like a ninja-rotor as he approached. I did the only thing I could think to do and that was drop to the ground. Really not all that difficult, considering just how tired I was. The claw whistled past my head; didn’t even realize until later he’d actually torn through my jacket and had been the width of a credit card from tearing into me. It’s one thing to be enemies in a war—I get that. But when it is just my mere existence that inspires such desire to kill me, well, that’s something entirely different. Surprised Tracy never went this route. Luckily I got my feet under me quickly and was crouched in a fighting stance; he’d already wheeled back and was coming for round two when a dark blur crossed in front of us.

  It was a wrecking ball of fur, fang, and claw. I can’t say I saw a bunch of blood, but there were some hellacious howls of pain and, finally, acquiescence as Cain got into the prone position and deferred dominance to Mikota.

  “Yeah, and let that be a lesson to you, jackass,” I told Cain. Was truly expecting lasers to shoot from those eyes.

  Mikota grunted something pretty friggin’ harsh to Cain before walking away. Could have been “Try that again and I will kill you,” or maybe “next time don’t miss.”

  I approached Cain, but not within range of anything he could strike me with. I got down a little onto my haunches and whispered so only we could hear. Figured I’d do a little script flipping. “I’m going to kill you when I have the chance.” I opened my mouth and gave him a glance at what I was going to do him in with. Was sort of like showing a guy holding a rocket launcher my pistol, but when it’s all said and done, a well placed bullet will do the job. Confusion was the first thing that hit him; probably never had his dinner threaten his life before but that changed immediately to fear when he realized I could make good on my threat. Sure, I’d probably negated any warning Mikota had given him, but that was only going to work for so long anyway.

  I was just starting to feel like I wasn’t going to puke up everything I’d ever eaten since 1982, when Gimpie was all fixed up and ready to go. Was thinking about telling Mikota I’d be alright with resting for the night if it helped Gimpie out, but we were already on the move again. We did go a little slower, but nothing worth celebrating about. By the time we called it a night, I was having a difficult time controlling how my legs responded to messages from my brain, like the one that said it had been my idea to hurry home, or walk.

  “I did not think you would be able to stay with us,” Mikota said. Couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or derision. Didn’t even give a shit. At this pace, we were three more days from Denarth. Vegas would not even issue odds that I could make it, the shot was so long. I found a good sized oak and proceeded to try and lean-scoot my way down to the ground without just flopping there. An eighty-five-year-old would have had an easier time getting out of a half-filled old-school waterbed, than with the spastic attempt I was making at sitting. In the end, I just put my back against the tree and slid down, folded evenly in half. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed just how difficult and pathetic that had been.

  Even though Mikota professed he was not a leader, he very much acted like one. He walked around the entire camp checking on his charges and taking extra time with Gimpie, whose foot looked bathed in blood. Whatever they’d closed it with had not held. It wasn’t long before Mikota came my way. The purposeful stride was pause for concern. I put my hands to either side of me; in theory, I would shoot up
like I was spring loaded—or possibly rocket boosted like an ejector seat—though more likely I would flop over onto my face as my legs betrayed me. He pulled up short; maybe he’d seen how I was watching him warily. He said nothing as he got to the ground and turned on his side, his back to me. It was a good couple of minutes and I’d started to relax, when he spoke.

  “I do not yet know which of those with me want to kill you. Though it pains and disgusts me, I think it wise to stay near to you.”

  “Yeah, I ain’t overly-joyed about it either. Shit, man when is the last time you took a bath? Smell a lot like skunk roadkill.”

  He turned and made sure we were looking at each other. “We are not friends, Michael Talbot, we will never be friends. I do not like Cain much, but the thought of letting him tear you up was oddly satisfying. When we are done with our present crusade, I will follow up on the promise you gave.”

  “When we are done, Mikota, I will feel no regret for placing your lifeless body into the ground like I have so many before you.” That made him smile. I was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of beings and I’d just told him in no uncertain terms that I would add him to that long list, and the psychopath smiled. If I could have slept with three eyes open I would have.

  I awoke the next morning, pleasantly surprised that all my parts were where they were supposed to be and I was not sitting in a spreading pool of my rapidly cooling blood. Mikota was up and ready, getting his Lycan ready as well. He tossed me a hunk of something that looked suspiciously like mole. I would have chucked it off to the side when no one was looking but I was famished. If at any point in your life someone offers raw mole, my suggestion is to pass. It had the consistency of rubber and a taste I can’t even categorize. Dirty cockroaches maybe? It was like pulling on Silly Putty getting the meager meat off the small bones. “Better than human, I suppose,” I said as I took another bite.

  “It is not,” Mikota said as he approached.

  I was not overly happy with myself that I had to be reminded that I was in with a group of animals that regularly ate humans for breakfast. There were some grunts, and the group was on the move. I was still standing there with my tiny rodent in hand, wondering what the hell was going on.

  “I haven’t even pissed,” I lamented as I started lightly jogging. I could just about hear chunks of rust break free from my joints and hit the ground. I’d been rapidly coming to the point where I was going to just have to urinate as we ran. Women may not know this, but as a self-defense mechanism against wetting the bed, men will actually get tumescent, or what is more commonly known as “morning wood.” Contrary to popular belief, it has very little to do with sexual excitement. I mean sure, if the opportunity arises we’ll certainly use it, but it’s more about blocking off a urine stream that is desperate for relief. Probably unnecessarily lengthy explanation, but I’m trying to relate why, as I ran with a pack of human-eating savages, I had a raging hard-on. So there it was, scraping back and forth against the front of my pants. I would be hard pressed to remember something that was more irritating. At first, it wasn’t overly unpleasant, then it became slightly aggravating, then it rapidly moved into the realm of unbearable. Later that day, I apologized to my junk profusely for what I had put it through as I took care of business behind a large tree. I sighed in happiness as my bladder shrank back to normal and I realized we were probably going to be alright.

  Kwan was the Lycan with the injured foot. Thing looked like it had been in a blender. Flaps of skin were hanging askew from the original wound; he must have stepped into a running meat grinder. The flesh had a sickeningly sweet smell to it, and I knew what that meant. He was in the initial stages of an infection. That was good news for me; meant the group would be traveling slower, and at some point the brute was going to die. I considered that a win-win. If it had been Cain, it would have been the perfect trifecta. That day was just more running; the Lycan did it as easily as a person might lay in a hammock, it was nothing to them, in fact, I saw one doing needlepoint while we were moving, another a crossword puzzle.

  We lucked out that night when two Lycan brought down a good sized elk. I’d not seen much in the way of restraint concerning these beasts; that they brought back the animal not completely gnawed through was fairly impressive. Hadn’t pegged them for altruists. Mikota ripped a hunk of muscle from the rear leg and tossed it at me. Almost smacked me across the face like a jealous lover’s slap. I was hungry, but a hunk of meat, raw, still warm, and twitching somehow loses its appeal. For all the “prepping” I’d done as a “survivalist” back in the day, I could barely light a fire with a book of matches and a can of gasoline. So even though I had a flint, it took me a good, solid half an hour to get anything remotely considered a flame to start. I’d barely cooked the meat long enough to be considered extremely rare when hunger won out. At least it wasn’t spasming anymore.

  I got a lot of glares from the group regarding the fire. Wasn’t entirely sure what that was about but no one came over to say anything to me so fuck ‘em. Mikota waited until the fire had gone out then resumed his duty as guard dog.

  “You know I can take care of myself, right?”

  “I will allow no one to kill you except for me.”

  “Why is it that I always feel like I’m picking the lesser of two evils as opposed to picking good over evil? I guess it’s beginning to work out in my favor, though. Xavier was bigger than you and Lunos is smarter. Pretty soon I’ll be killing Lycan who are struck down with the dumbs, and then you can all rot in hell—whatever your hell is.”

  I watched Mikota’s fur bristle, though he said no more. He was asleep in ten minutes and I wasn’t too far behind him. The next morning I vowed not to make a repeat performance of my tent pitching. I was tucking everything away when we got the call to move out. If I ever needed a reason to kill Mikota this was enough. Who the fuck sets out on a cross-country marathon without a proper cup of coffee? By the time night claimed its place, Kwan was limping to the point I figured he would have to stop. It was painful to watch. I was surprised he never once changed into his lupine state. Maybe it was frowned upon; I had no desire to learn what their cultural hang-ups were. My goal was to force them into action for problems their kind had caused.

  I was ten feet away when they undid the crude bandages, and I could smell the funk of infection from where I was. The pungent odor of decay was prevalent; the Lycan looked among themselves, they knew as well. Kwan was panting heavily from pain, not from the run. I moved farther away; he was as good as dead. I would be surprised if he made the bell in the morning. We were close to Denarth; I’d even started to recognize some of the terrain. Mikota only verified what I already knew.

  “When the sun is at its highest, we will be at your city. If I do not see what you have told me I will, you will die by my hand.”

  “You’ll note I am not worried. Either Lunos is there like I said he would be and you are forced to confront him, or I rip your head off, scrape out what little brain you have in there, feed it to this raven I know, and then I carry your skull around as a portable shitter. Crapping in the cavity every day will give me an immeasurable pleasure, the likes of which I get a little giddy just thinking about. Probably never even going to clean the thing, it’s going to be disgusting when it starts flowing over the sides and out your eye sockets, and staining everything in brown. Makes me gag a little just thinking about it, but the mere thought that this used to be your brain housing,” I paused and took a deep breath, “I don’t know, it’s just exhilarating I suppose. Gonna lose some friends from the stink, but some things can’t be helped.”

  He had long ago laid down and turned his back to me. His fur stayed bristled for quite a long time after I had finished speaking. You’d think we were married, with how easily I had riled him.

  The next morning, however, I was not thrown so much as a morsel of field mouse. Must have pushed Mikota a wee bit too far the previous evening. Kwan did get up, but he was hot with fever. The brown around his muzzl
e looked a slick gray color. It was all he could do to keep his eyes from rolling up inside his head. The merciful thing would have been to leave him there and let me put a bullet in his skull; I was all for option two. Though I was wise enough to keep my opinion to myself. He was lagging behind during the warm up phase. At this point, I was pretty glad they hadn’t asked me to shoot him. After three days of constant running, my legs were jelly and Mikota was showing a modicum of mercy by staying slow. In the end, I realized the mercy wasn’t compassion, it was protectionism, self-serving skin-saving. Should have known.

  Because the pace had been reduced, we blew right past the noon timeline Mikota had said. Would have called him on it but even at the slower pace, I was hurting something fierce and there was the chance he’d bust my balls and go faster. It had to be late afternoon by the time I started catching whiffs of fire and real food cooking. A few minutes after that we were at the far edge of the woods. Werewolves, the likes of which I had never seen were sitting on the doorstep of the beleaguered Denarth. Had to be ten deer roasting on spits right out in the open—psychological warfare at its best. Lunos had been here for a while; Denarth was under siege and most likely starving, while the heir apparent strode around like a strutting peacock eating to his heart’s content.

  Speaking of the prick, I caught sight of him walking about his subjects. Looked like an Egyptian god checking in on his people, he was so much bigger than the rest of them. Mikota uttered some words to Kwan, who was somehow still fucking standing. Looked like a few fleas could have taken his ass down at this point. Mikota directed the rest to move away. I could not help but notice he said nothing to me. Never even looked in my direction. Figured out soon enough that following him was way better than staying where we were. Kwan was heading out of the woods and there was a good chance Lunos would send werewolves in to see if he had been with anyone.

  Kwan wasn’t too far from the tree line when the cries of alarm were sounded, well, more like barks and yips, but you get the idea. Got to admit it was nice to see Lunos stiffen a little when he saw the Lycan approach. Wasn’t sure what Mikota hoped to achieve by this; Lunos wasn’t going to kick at the dirt and say how sorry he was and then fold up tents and leave because a Lycan had shown. Then I got it. Kwan wasn’t ever leaving this place. Mikota had seen what he needed and now, foolishly and dangerously, he had just let Lunos know that the Lycan knew as well.