The Last Line Series One

by David Elias Jenkins

  The rich map of thick veins across its pale skin pulsated beneath the translucent fur and darkened rhythmically. The face caught somewhere between human and bear, but pulled and mutated into something more terrifying, lips stretched tight around a grotesquely extended jaw brimming with crystalline teeth, like jagged stalagmites and stalactites of pure ice. Ariel watched its huge barrel chest rapidly rise and fall

  And then he saw the creature flip itself over and shake the effect of the bullet off like a dog shaking water from its coat. The bullet was pushed out by its healing flesh to drop into the snow beneath it.

  It looked up straight into Ariel’s eyes but did not move.

  Ariel had no idea why this thing had singled him out and taken such an interest in him but he had no intention of giving this ancient monster its prize.

  He brought the rifle up, fired it wildly, and then Ariel twisted the accelerator and sped off across the ice, thinking if he could just reach Longyearbyen, he might have a chance. He knew there was little hope.

  Where is that rescue team when you need it?

  The wind howled in his ears, the snow sprayed up all around him as he cut faster and faster across the glacier. Ariel stole quick glances behind him and saw the Bjorn hurtling after him with huge leaps of its overdeveloped thighs.

  Ahead there was a line of blackened trees, and Ariel headed directly for them, hoping to somehow lose the creature once he was off open ground. He shifted the snow mobile into its highest gear and hunkered down. Any moment he expected to feel the razor sharp tear of diamond-like fangs slicing open his back.

  The trees were only metres away, Ariel swore and cursed at the vehicle to move faster, but felt a moment of hope that he could no longer hear the crunch of claws in the snow behind him. Then, too late, he noticed the black shard of rock jutting from the snow directly in front of him.

  Suddenly he was flying through the air, behind him the sharp screech of metal twisting and breaking as the snowmobile crashed into the trees. The world spun for Ariel then stopped abruptly as he landed on his back at the foot of a dark fir tree.

  The air had been knocked from his lungs. He saw glistening speckles at the corners of his vision. It took a few moments for his senses to return.

  When he caught his breath and looked up, the creature was only a few feet from him, crouched down on all fours. This close up Ariel saw just how huge it really was. Steam issued from its mouth as it hissed out its rank breath.

  As it got closer, Ariel saw the shimmering borealis of nature magic that surrounded it grow brighter and more focused.

  All Ariel could think of was that he had failed in his mission, he had been a dismal failure and disappointment as a field agent and there would be no star on the wall for him back home and no eulogy. How many lives would be lost through his hubris and fantasy? He was afraid, terribly afraid but he did not want these last moments to be ones of fear so he tried to focus on something good. For the life of him he could think of nothing.

  They would never find his body, would not even get a chance to bury him. Ariel reached for the hunting rifle that had fallen by his side. Not for the creature, he could see there was no point in that now.

  If he could get the barrel to his mouth in time, he could at least deny this god its mortal meal as a final act of defiance. That at least was something.

  As if sensing this, the Bjorn advanced on him, thick pus-coloured drool dripping from its lips. It pinned Ariel with one massive black clawed paw and bared its fangs.

  Ariel gritted his teeth and in a last desperate move reached out for the rifle.

  32

  The stealth helicopter cut through the midnight blizzard like a wraith.

  Usher peered out of the window down at the black arctic waters. In the distance he could see the twinkling lights of a coastal town nestled in the gloomy outline of rocky hills and mountains. Svalbard airport was close by on a wide plateau, its twinkling lights stark against the bleak surroundings.

  They had not flown in close enough to see the stranded Proteus further down the coast and they did not want to give away the element of surprise.

  Somewhere out there in that frozen wilderness was the STG scientist Ariel Speedman. Usher knew he was still alive by using the tracker that he had fixed to his own body armour. It gave off a constant flashing red light and satellite coordinates when the extreme weather allowed. Usher had hoped that their quarry had managed to find his way to Longyearbyen itself but at the moment he was somewhere close to it, out in the frozen tundra. Quite how he was managing to stay alive in such conditions Usher had no idea.

  Usher sighed. He had no idea how they were going to achieve their objectives. They had to find a way to destroy the berserkers who would be protecting Argent. They had to destroy the world tree and close the portal Argent was trying to open. They had to rescue their own man unharmed. They possibly had to contend with this bear god that seemed to be the source of all the trouble. Judging by the capabilities of the Feral berserkers, Usher was unsure he wanted to come face to face with the thing that was the source of that power.

  Usher checked his rig to ensure all his kit was exactly where he wanted it to be. It was important that in the heat of a contact his hands automatically went exactly where he wanted them to go. Many a soldier had been killed fumbling for a fresh magazine and taking his eyes off the target.

  He looked up at his team as they were illuminated by the deep red light inside the cabin. Empire One all looked lost in their own thoughts. They began to buffet up and down as the helicopter hit some turbulence.

  Usher regarded the men that he had fought with for years. They had laughed and drank together, faced nightmares together, been scared together, killed together and mourned together. Each one of them had a doom in his eyes.

  They knew they had no back up or resources to speak off, they had known that when they accepted the mission. All they had was resourcefulness and a whole lot of ammunition. Usher glanced at each of his men. He was certain that inside they had their own doubts and fears, things they would regret not doing if they died today. They all had their own private plans, schemes for a better life away from all the violence. They all knew it was folly.

  There was no away from this violence. The Dark Fey of the Unseelie Court would keep squeezing through into our world as they had for centuries and cause havoc and mayhem wherever they could.

  The only day of peace that would ever come would be when every monster was dead or when every gateway from their realm was closed. None of them could afford to think of the future too much and hope was a dangerous thing.

  They had to be content to focus on each day, each new fight and each small victory afforded to them. It was that until they died or won.

  Usher saw that Isaac was flipping cards, playing some version of solitaire as he smoked. He looked like a man on a commercial flight to his yearly holiday. Usher knew that his indifference and sarcasm hid the deep loyalty and family bond that he felt for the unit. Isaac came from a hard place and had been bullied by grotesques and monsters from a young age. They came in different shapes and sizes but they all went down the same. The swarthy soldier looked up and gave Usher his trademark wink then resumed his game.

  Charlie had his i-pod in and was psyching himself up with his usual pre-contact medley of hard-core techno and Industrial metal. He was drumming his thighs and nervously bobbing his head. Charlie was a borstal boy and from what he had heard Usher had no doubt that he had fought his way up to become the daddy. Charlie had never known an environment where he didn’t have to walk tall and be ready to fight his corner. Usher had always thought he had the east end of swagger a young Ray Winstone. Despite his obvious willingness to fight anything, Usher had always felt protective of Charlie. There was vulnerability underneath all that toughness.

  Stromberg was as relaxed and cheery as he ever was. Quintessentially Antipodean in outlook, Strommy faced every hardship with an unpretentious happy go lucky enthusiasm that concealed a core as h
ard as a diamond. He was lounging casually at the back of the helicopter, feet up and flipping peanuts into his mouth while reading a mountain climbing magazine. Strommy had scaled Everest five years before and was now one of the world’s most accomplished free climbers. When asked about Everest he never boasted, he usually just replied with aw yeah great views mate, you should try it. Usher knew that whenever death found Strommy he would greet it with a smile and a raised beer.

  Glancing at Brock, Usher thought the big man had a sheepish look about him. He had always been a terrible liar and Usher wondered what he was up to. Usher noticed that the soldier had something big draped across his knees, wrapped up in a leather case. He was stroking the case like it was something precious to him.

  The giant Dane was a man of stark extremes. A champion bodybuilder and one time Olympic Judo finalist, he had been brought up as an athlete and had that inbuilt machine-like quality shared by many elite sportspeople. He was so focussed that sometimes he could seem abrupt and cold but Usher knew this to be deeply untrue.

  Brock’s loyalty and morality were absolute, his decisions final, his need for small talk minimal, but beneath that was a deeply spiritual man who would protect the weak to his last breath. Usher had to concede though, he was a big scary motherfucker.

  As the helicopter drew closer to the coastline, Usher felt his own nerves start to rise a little. He knew that this would fade and that specially compartmentalized area of his brain would kick in soon enough. That was his strength. He was able to put aside his own fear, doubt and morality, and switch over to a coldly efficient and pragmatic creature that would not stop and would do whatever it took to complete the mission. On his days off, Usher was filled with doubt, fear and tormented by the violence his life was steeped in. He mourned and missed his stolen family. He despaired at the sheer hatred that humanity daily faced with from the denizens of the Unseelie. He woke up sweating from nightmares of the things he had faced over the years, or in tears from thinking of the friends he had lost. Even now in the helicopter, on the way to violence and likely his own death, Usher’s mind drifted.

  He thought of his wife and son, and cursed himself that their faces were becoming harder and harder to remember with each passing year. He thought of the strange Otherkind Ursula and the contradictory feelings of lust, disgust and fascination she arose in him. He thought of Christi, and how her space on this helicopter was empty and that the team was poorer for it. He missed his friend. Bad things were going to happen to the people he held responsible for snatching her from this world.

  As they got closer, Usher felt his daily memories and emotions being packed away in a vault inside his mind. Somewhere safe where they would not be damaged during the fight. He felt the cold functional soldier come out from its room and take over his motor functions, senses and decision making process. The fear faded and was replaced by adrenalin supplies that could be controlled and used.

  Usher sniffed and wiped some mucous from his cold nose. He was ready.

  Ok, he had to ask.

  “Hey Brock.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “What’s in the case?”

  Brock chewed his blond facial hair. “Something I brought. In case we end up close quarters.”

  Usher shrugged and resumed checking his rig. “Fair enough big fella. Fair enough.”

  33

  The heavy door opened, caught by a powerful gust of arctic wind. The snow blew in through into the Karls-berger pub in Longyearbyen.

  It was a busy night and locals, scientists and adventurous travellers had gathered within the hostelry to warm up with its impressive collection of cognacs and spirits.

  A few heads turned as the dark figure stood in the doorway slightly too long before entering, seeming shaky on his feet, allowing the icy wind to flicker the fire and send a shiver through the gathered.

  The stranger was wrapped up from head to toe. The hood of his parka was zipped right up, obscuring his face. This was not unusual during winter on Svalbard. The stranger walked past the tables of friends and workmates, miners and adventurers. His ears were sensitive even through the thick hood and each conversation blasted in his ears like an i-pod at full volume.

  Much of the chatter was about the huge ship, bigger than an oil tanker, which had become damaged and icebound to the south-east. Apparently a plane leaving from Longyearbyen had flown within a few miles of it. The Pilot reporting that it was the biggest ship he had ever seen, and could not understand how it had ever crashed into the ice. The engineers and survivalists amongst them all agreed that reaching and salvaging a ship on that glacier would be a living nightmare

  As the stranger sat at the bar a coughing fit issued forth from the round fur lined hole of the zipped up hood that he wore. The snow encrusting the fur lining crumbled and shook loose onto the bar. The stranger slowly pulled off one thick glove, revealing a shaking hand. It seemed to take forever to remove the glove, but numbness and fatigue was common in these parts in winter. The stranger tried to brush the snow off the bar, apologising repeatedly under his breath.

  The barman, a large set man with grey-blonde ponytail, wiped the remainder with a cloth and set a bottle of schnapps down on the wooden bar.

  “For men as cold as you, first one’s on the house. Chilli schnapps, it’ll do the trick.”

  Then he poured a healthy measure into a glass. Bright red chilli’s floated in the bottom of the bottle, little tongues of fire to warm the bones.

  Dr Ariel Speedman unzipped his hood with trembling fingers, breathed in the air of the pub. It was overwhelming.

  The scent of the schnapps on the bar at his fingers was like acid being dripped into his nostrils. The smoke from the crackling logs burning in the hearth was suffocating, he felt as if he was trapped in a burning building. The acrid sweat soaking in to the chequered shirts of a group of bearded miners gathered in the corner was making his throat retch. The furniture polish used on the bar buzzed his mind, like sniffing glue or creosote straight from the tin. Each scent entered his nose and wove together, a rich patchwork tapestry in his mind.

  He picked up the shot glass and quickly threw the contents to the back of his throat, which sent him into another spasm of coughing.

  The barman peered at him with a crooked smile on his weather hardened face.

  “I think maybe you are not so well. This cold place is no place to catch a cold. Here, have another on me, but don’t tell anyone, I’ll have these drunken troglodytes six deep at the bar. Where are you from?”

  Ariel took a while to find his voice. He had a paranoid fear that if he loosened his throat and let out what was inside, it would come only in a long desperate scream until no air remained in his lungs.

  “London...I...I’m from London.”

  The barman waved to the other end of the bar, signalling to demanding customers keen for more liquid warmth that he would be with them when he was with them.

  “You work at Ny-Alesund? You are Scientist? You look like scientist. Not many people there this time of year. What you working on up there? You know anything about that ship? One that’s stuck in the ice?”

  “I might have…I’m sorry I don’t remember…stay away…don’t go near that ship.”

  The barman grinned.

  “You don’t need to tell me, I’m a barman. It’s those scavengers that call themselves engineers you have to worry about. All they see is salvage and rescue money.”

  Ariel put his sweating face in his hands and leaned on the bar.

  “No, no salvage. Tell them to stay away.”

  He didn’t remember much since his encounter on the ice. Some fever had taken him that was clouding his thoughts. How had he arrived here to Longyearbyen? He knew this was where he had wanted to get to but he couldn’t yet remember why.

  How am I still alive?

  When the Bjorn had cornered him on the ice, at the very edge of the woods, Ariel had thought his time was up. He had tried to shoot himself, but it had knocked the gun from his
hands with a single swipe, snapping the barrel like a twig.

  It had loomed over him, glowering down at his sweating terrified face. He had closed his eyes and waited for the worst, praying it would be over quickly. The creature got close enough that Ariel could feel the hot stinking breath on his face, rich with the meat of the Proteus crew. It had sniffed at him once, twice, three times.

  Ariel had closed his eyes and waited for the killing blow but it never happened.

  Instead the beast had reached up its forepaw that stretched and cracked until it was some terrible hybrid between paw and hand. It clasped Ariel around the jaw, turning his head this way and that, peering at him with its black eyes. Ariel tried to struggle but it was like fighting against a statue. The Bjorn leaned in close to him, and forced his jaw open with a single black claw. Ariel tried to scream but the fingers around his throat clamped it shut. Then the Bjorn fixed him with a stare. In Ariel’s mind he heard what he could only describe as a voice though there were no words as such. It was more like an intention, the shape of pure willpower taking form in his mind. The message was clear.

  Keep hidden.

  Ariel’s eyes were wide with terror as the monster opened its mouth wide and clamped its blood soaked jaw around his face. Yet the jaws did not close. Instead, it breathed something into him.

  It spewed from the monster like a cloud of icy steam that flickered and glowed as if it were a storm cloud. Ariel felt it fill every cell of his being and for a time he thought that his skin would burst and split. He could not draw breathe or even scream and for a full minute the ancient creature breathed the illuminated mist into him.

  Then as quickly it left him alone, vanishing into the blizzard, drawing the helicopters and snowmobiles off with it into the treeline.

  After that Ariel remembered very little, just an overwhelming urge to get away from the men and the helicopters, to fulfil his goal of getting to Longyearbyen. The snowmobile lay broken and abandoned outside the pub so it must have functioned well enough to bring him here.