Nicholae slid the gas mask over his face. “Might as well see what we’re dealing with,” he said, making his way toward the door.
“No! Don’t open it!”
“But you said...” My voice trailed off as Nicholae pushed the door open.
“Stay back, Oliver,” Nicholae said as long, dark fingers wrapped around the frame of the door. Nicholae took a few steps back himself as the creature shuffled into the opening. “You’re an ugly sucker.”
15
The Scorched Ones
What entered the metallic hut looked like it had once been human, but now resembled a horribly mangled burn victim that refused to die. It had no clothes, covered only by charred and twisted, leathery flesh. Its nose and ears were nothing but asymmetrical holes and the skin of its lips peeled back to expose all of its front teeth like a skull. The nails on its hands were thick and curved into points like talons. Bright orange eyes burned from deep sockets.
Erik and Cassandra stayed back by me while Nicholae faced off with the creature—what Te had called the Scorched One. I could most certainly see why and imagined it looming in the flames waiting for someone—anyone—to pass by.
Te had her silver suit on and zipped up, but this time had the medallion hanging on the outside. She held the circular silver object in both hands as she stood against the back wall, holding it out like a crucifix to a vampire. All she kept saying was “no, no, no” over and over. Her helmet lay on the floor beside her, dropped to seemingly focus all her strength on the medallion.
Nicholae drew one pistol from his hip and quickly fired four rounds into the creature’s chest. When it didn’t slow, let alone drop, he put another two in its head.
The burned creature snarled and kept lumbering toward Nicholae like a drunk, arms outstretched, fingers twitching. Nothing oozed from the new holes in its body, which actually began closing up on their own.
“Huh...” Nicholae sighed, holstering his weapon, while throwing up the opposite hand in a sign to stop.
The creature froze mid step.
Nicholae walked up to examine the creature closer. “Okay, stop dodging my questions. What is this thing?” he demanded.
“The Scorched One,” Te said softly.
“I know that! But what is it?!”
“Someone banished from The Garden permanently. Watchers for the Undocumented Travelers.”
“Like us,” I said, approaching the trapped creature myself.
The bullet holes were almost completely gone. It lost a few teeth in one of the head shots, which seemed to be the only permanent damage.
“All this time, I didn’t think travelers like you existed. If you’re not from The Garden, then where?”
“How do you kill them?” Nicholae asked.
“You don’t. They can’t be killed. That is part of their punishment, as it is yours.” She was no longer holding the medallion out, but rubbing it in between one thumb and forefinger. “And they’re never alone. They just keep coming. I tried to stop them from taking Maury. He shouldn’t have come with me.”
Another Scorched One entered the dome, then another—a line of them spilling through the door, almost on top of each other.
Nicholae froze them as well, stopping the flood in the doorway.
“You think I didn’t try that?” Te asked sarcastically. “They just keep coming. You seem to be a strong boy, but you can’t hold them all.”
“So what can we do?” I asked.
Te was beginning to cry. “Let them take you. It’s not fair. You just got here. You’ve only had one meal. I have five years, seven months, and seventeen days left. I can’t...I can’t...”
The creatures frozen in the doorway began toppling forward like dominoes as more of them piled in, climbing over the fallen.
Nicholae froze a few more. Erik and Cassandra joined in the effort, but those burned atrocities kept coming. Soon those at the bottom of the pile began to move, first one limb, then two—clawing at the floor to pull themselves out from under the not yet reanimated. But it was only a matter of time before they were all back on their feet.
A long curved sword materialized in Nicholae’s hand. He gripped the hilt with both hands and slashed at the first reanimated creature within reach. The blade cut across twisted flesh, spilling shriveled insides, which seemed not to faze the Scorched One in the least. It continued forward with reaching claws and open jaws. With another swing, Nicholae lopped its head clean off, but the head and lumbering body lived on.
Erik and Cassandra shielded me from incoming creatures. Cassandra now held a long sword and Erik, a double-sided ax.
“Stay back, Oliver,” Erik yelled, leaping into action, chopping bodies into manageable pieces. Heads, hands, legs, dropped to the floor in an almost musical cadence like dismembered doll parts.
Still more were swarming the door.
I joined Te on the back wall.
“There’s no end,” she cried. “I’m so sorry this had to happen.”
One of the creatures made it past the Lorne blockade, shuffling toward Te and me. Te stepped in front of me, holding the medallion out, but the Scorched One knocked her aside without much consideration. She shrank away into the doorway of the bathroom as blackened flesh reached for me.
I shot out a few of its teeth, but it used what teeth it had left to bite down on the barrel of the gun, jostling it out of my grip. It clamped down on my right arm, curved claws digging into my muscles. I punched with my free hand—my weaker hand—which only seemed to hurt me. Moon-yellow eyes stared at me, devoid of any emotion, compassion, or humanity. Just a singular compulsion to devour.
A gore-dulled blade flashed past my face and the wretched thing’s head rolled to the side and dropped to the floor. However, its grip on my arm didn’t loosen.
Nicholae slashed through the arm attaching itself to mine and pried off each of the clenched fingers, so he could discard the arm with the rest of the rogue limbs.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I had him right where I wanted him,” I said.
He smiled, which immediately faded when he glanced over at Te cowering in the bathroom doorway.
Nicholae stormed up to her and yanked the necklace from around her neck. She screeched and flailed feeble arms in protest, but Nicholae just swatted away her pathetic attempts.
“Put this on,” he said, tossing me the medallion on a chain.
“What about—” I started, but Nicholae had already turned away.
He knocked another creature back before returning to Te, clutched her silver suit, and pulled her to her feet. She grabbed his wrists, but had no power to pry herself free. Nicholae pulled the screaming, helpless woman into the battle of the dismembered undead. Wrinkled hands reached for them. Teeth grazed their bodies as Nicholae dragged her through the crowd, making his way for the door, shoving past new Scorched Ones still trying to enter.
From outside I could hear the tone of her screams change from fear to pain. The cry of agony was a beacon for the undead. Many of those who could still walk exited the building. Erik and Cassandra dismantled the few remaining stragglers. The flow of entering charred creatures ceased. Severed arms inched across the floor like hermit crabs. Nicholae stepped over the outflow of body parts on his way back.
“They won’t disappear,” Cassandra complained.
“Then toss them out,” Nicholae said and began collecting moaning heads and twitching legs.
I found a broom to sweep out a few globs of spilled organs, wincing at the grotesquely sticky sounds of viscous tissue sloshing across the concrete floor, leaving behind a slimy trail. At least the whole interior of the building wasn’t painted in undead blood.
We quickly cleared out the room. Nicholae closed the door, blocking out the remainder of Te’s dying cries. The seam between door and building disappeared, effectively barricading us inside.
I dropped the broom, gazed down at the medallion, and finally felt the true weight of it.
�
�Was that really necessary?” I asked.
Cassandra and Erik collapsed onto newly manifested chairs by the kitchen table.
Nicholae supported himself with one hand on the curved wall, where the door once stood.
“They’ll be done with her before long and back to swarming us,” I continued when no one else spoke.
“Let them swarm,” Nicholae said. “And to answer your question, yes, it was necessary. Whatever I need to do to keep you safe, I’ll do. That’s what I do—what we do—what is necessary.” He enunciated the final three words. His fury from the whole debacle was only beginning to subside.
“This place is a nightmare,” Erik said. “What’s our next move? Home?”
“Yeah, we’ll try again tomorrow.”
“I so need a shower,” Cassandra said.
“Oliver, keep the necklace,” Nicholae commanded. “Tomorrow we’ll be better prepared.”
“She invited us into her home,” I said sourly.
“You needed that necklace.”
“We could have protected her.”
“You can stay home tomorrow. You’re obviously not ready for this.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” I sighed.
“Then what are you saying?” Nicholae sounded as flustered as me.
“Your boy wants you to show a little remorse,” Erik said.
“Do you want me to lie to you?” Nicholae asked.
I shook my head.
“Do you feel bad about keeping your girlfriend locked up until we can recover her memory?”
“I...It’s not the same.”
“Others won’t agree with your decision. You know that for a fact. But it’s what you feel you have to do—what is necessary. And I supported you. I still support you. That’s what we do. Lornes do what is necessary.”
“You sound like Kafka,” I mumbled.
“Our definitions of what’s necessary differ,” Nicholae said, staring me down with dark eyes—revealing a glimpse into his real age, unlike his physical appearance—daring me to respond.
The screeching of claws scraping against metal began again, reminding us that we were not alone.
“Can we continue this at home?” Cassandra whined.
“There’s nothing to continue,” I said. The lingering smell of burnt flesh was making me feel queasy, causing me to reach for my gas mask. I was ready to get out of here and mentally prepare for tomorrow in solitude.
Nicholae reached his hand to me. Like a defiant child, I almost went to stand beside Erik and Cassandra. But in the end, I reluctantly took Nicholae’s hand.
I closed my eyes and waited for the clawing to disappear. I waited in the dark, but the grating sound persisted.
“Why isn’t it working?” Cassandra asked.
I reopened my eyes. All of us were still firmly planted in this plane.
“Did you fully transition here before?” Nicholae asked.
“No,” Cassandra said.
“I looked in, but that’s about it,” Erik added.
Nicholae wrenched his hand from mine, kicked over a nearby end table, and swore.
“We should have gathered more information,” Erik said.
“From whom?!” Nicholae shouted. “Kafka? Who else even knows this plane exists?” He closed his eyes, put a fist to his forehead, and exhaled a long breath.
Four beds appeared in the middle of the room, one inches away from where I was standing.
“We were going to push forward anyway,” Nicholae said. “Now we have to. Nothing’s changed. Let’s rest up and start again tomorrow.”
Erik grumbled and collapsed onto one of the beds. Cassandra claimed the bathroom to clean up. Nicholae paced the inner perimeter.
After a few rotations, Nicholae stopped at my bed and requested my medallion. I slid it over my head and passed it to him. He examined the design closely before dropping it onto my bed. A moment later, three more chains appeared in one closed hand, with the three seemingly identical medallions swinging from the bases like out-of-sync clock hands.
“These will make tomorrow’s travels less stressful,” Nicholae said, placed one over his head, tossed one to Erik, and dropped the last remaining medallion on an empty bed.
“Yeah,” I said, making no attempt to mask the bitterness in my voice.
I didn’t know when the horrible screeching from outside had stopped, but no more exterior sounds penetrated the dome walls. The awful smells were dissipating. It was all starting to feel like a bad dream—but I knew the nightmare wasn’t gone, it was lingering just beyond the walls, waiting to tear us to pieces.
16
Undocumented Travelers
The room felt warm when I awoke, and from the feel of it the temperature was steadily rising. The others were stirring. An orange flicker danced on the wall, the movement in time with a crackling percussion.
I spun my attention in the opposite direction, to a wall completely engulfed in flames. Nicholae and Erik were already on their feet in the time it took me to turn around. Cassandra wasn’t far behind them.
“Why are they back?” I yelled.
No one answered.
A clawed hand reached through the fire like someone feeling around in the darkness, then the rest of the arm, followed by the charred body to which it was attached.
The wall of flames extended at least ten feet in width, a seemingly oversized doorway for more creatures to enter the building at a time. More hands were already feeling their way inside.
Nicholae charged in, lopping off hands and kicking bodies back into the inferno. But for each one he took down, two more seemed to take its place.
I backed up to the wall of dancing shadows, and then slid the gas mask over my face. Cassandra handed me her sword before manifesting another. I gave it a practice swing and a zing sounded as it sliced through the smoky air.
None of the Scorched Ones seemed to even notice me. Those that made it through the barricade of Lornes circled around to attack from behind.
Cassandra was the first to get bitten, a creature burying its teeth in the back of her shoulder as she sliced through a torso. She screamed and spun around, but her attacker held on like a pit bull. The beast was yanked off its feet from the centrifugal force, and its falling weight took her down as well.
“Cassandra!” I yelled and rushed to her aid. I couldn’t swing at the extra head attached to her shoulder without her ending up as collateral damage.
I saw Erik lose his balance after a wild swing of his ax and topple backward. The several Scorched Ones he’d been fighting fell on top of him.
Another severed head went flying after contact with Nicholae’s sword.
I first tried pulling the vicious thing off Cassandra. But it simply buried its teeth deeper into her flesh. She screamed more as her shoulder ripped. With a change in tactics, I pushed my sword through the side of the creature’s face, in one cheek and out the other, and guided the blade back to disconnect its jaw. It kept trying to bite down, but its jaws grew weaker as I sawed through more muscle, until the bottom jaw was only connected by several overextended threads. By this time, she was able to pry the gaping mouth off her shoulder, and then dismembered the body in a fit of pure rage.
There was no time to see whether she was all right as the deluge of twisted creatures continued to step out of the flames.
Nicholae was throwing a few frozen Scorched Ones off Erik, and then helping him back to his feet. Cassandra whirled her sword like a ninja, and with each slice, cut through multiple bodies per swing.
As the fire spread, so did the entrance access for our hungry guests. A length of more than a quarter of the curved wall was now engulfed in flames.
“Oliver, get behind us!” Nicholae yelled.
“Pretty soon there won’t be a behind us!” I shouted back.
Each Lorne was now freezing a few creatures at a time and using the brief opportunity to hack them to pieces before moving on. But the fire was still spreading and the Scorched One
s were attacking from almost all sides. I retreated to the only untouched corner of the building left.
For all of the creatures now in the dome, still upright or lying on the floor in disassembled body parts, none of them were trying to break through the Lorne stronghold to get to me. My sword was at the ready, but it wasn’t even needed. I gazed down at the medallion dangling from my neck, the intricate circular lines—the bold letter A—and then at the counterfeit medallions swinging from the necks of my three Lorne companions. Their crucifixes weren’t keeping the vampires away.
Each Lorne was backing up one step at a time, inching closer to my position. The lens on my mask kept fogging up, but the smoke was getting so thick, it didn’t matter much anymore. The hairs on my arms were getting singed off a patch at a time from errant flames and fluttering ash. I knew there was only one way out of here, and that the time for escape was now.
I gazed through the wall behind me, out into the nighttime air, which flickered with flames of its own. The whole world seemed to be ablaze. But outside, directly behind us, there were no Scorched Ones waiting to devour us—at least not yet.
“This place is a lost cause!” I yelled, hoping someone could still hear me through the mask and chaos.
“How’s our retreat looking?” Nicholae shouted back.
“Clear for now!”
“Time to go,” Nicholae called to the other Lornes as he finished dismembering the creature in front of him. Turning, he fled toward me.
The four of us jumped through the back wall of the metal hut. Fiery fingers reached over the roof of the dome with billows of smoke that extended from its trembling, iridescent tips. We carefully followed the wall around the curve to see the flaming side. There was a massacre of twitching and clicking body parts from the Scorched Ones we’d thrown out of the building earlier in the evening, but not one of them was up and walking around. The metal supports of the dome were beginning to bow from the heat. The reflective plates were warping into funhouse mirrors.
Archanum Manor Page 17
