Tumultus

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “C’mon, then, you have to take a look at this. One of our patrols shot it dead this morning. Actually, shot at about thirty of them running across the road into Wilfrid. They were making a hell of a racket apparently. Giving off these high pitched, shrieking screams. This was the only one they hit. Blew the top of its head right off.”

  Mac was the first to look down at the table as Imran, Reese, and the others gathered around either side of him.

  The seeker’s hairless skin was a mottled, darkish grey color. Its chest had already been cut open and examined, and not yet stitched back up. As the godfather said, the top of its head was a disfigured mass of bone and brain. The mouth was grotesquely wide, and even though partially closed, its many teeth could be seen gleaming from behind its almost non-existent lips.

  It was indeed, the thing of nightmares.

  Cooper Wyse pointed to where its genitals should have been.

  “What sex is this thing supposed to be?”

  Dr. Michaels gave a thin smile at Cooper’s question.

  “I wondered the same thing. It is neither male or female. No sexual organs of any kind. No way for any food to be taken in or waste evacuated from the body except one – its mouth.”

  Bear’s face contorted into a look of disgust.

  “You saying that thing eats and shits from the same place – its mouth?”

  The doctor nodded.

  “Basically, yes. Note the large hump on its back. It’s actually an energy reserve, similar to a camel storing water. These things can go for extended periods without food or drink by simply accessing the reserves in that hump. According to the patrol that shot this…creature, they move exceedingly fast. The hands and feet are designed to grasp the ground and propel the body forward, similar to a monkey. The musculature suggests that for their size, they are very strong. Given the teeth, and the clawed appendages, I think it is safe to assume one of us would not wish to face even one of these things alone.”

  Mac’s eyes narrowed as he looked more closely at an area just below the back of the seeker’s head.

  “What is that there? Looks like a little…like a box.”

  The doctor reached a surgical gloved hand and removed from the area Mac had just referred to, something that did in fact look like a small, black metallic box.

  “This thing was attached to the creature’s brain stem. It is, I believe, some kind of transmitting device. I’m not a geneticist, but I am almost certain these things were created in a lab. I did run a very basic DNA test of the thing’s tissue and confirmed significant human factors involved.”

  Reese looked at the doctor, his eyes widening for a moment.

  “Human? These things are part human?”

  The doctor again nodded.

  “Oh yes, very much so. And the human factors are a mixture of single adult’s DNA, and several fetal DNA structures. I can’t test beyond that because I have neither the training or equipment, but this creature was definitely a manufactured product from somewhere. I would have to assume it is connected to a New United Nations program, because I don’t know of anyone else who would have the resources to pull something like this off. It is quite a scientific accomplishment.”

  Cooper turned away from the autopsy table shaking his head.

  “That’s no accomplishment, doctor. That there is the work of evil. That thing was never intended for this earth. We are truly spitting in the eye of God now, and there’s gonna be hell to pay for the people who did this.”

  The godfather looked at Mac, and then back to the dead seeker.

  “None of you seem that surprised at seeing this thing, so I’m guessing you know something about it. These things were following you from Alaska, right?”

  Mac nodded, then tilted his head at Imran.

  “He knew about them too, called them seekers. So I’m guessing you and your people knew about them before we did.”

  The godfather looked at Cap, who in turn responded to Mac’s statement.

  “We heard reports of people spotting them. The Russian was one of the witnesses. Said he saw some man-monster dart across the tracks a few weeks ago. Some Muslim bandits were apparently attacked to the south last year, maybe a hundred miles from here. That’s when we first heard the term seekers. It’s what the Muslims call them. And one of our own patrols said they saw something a few months ago, thought maybe it was a bear, but weren’t sure. It was dark, and the thing moved fast.”

  The doctor pointed to the thing’s face.

  “The term seeker is actually quite appropriate given the creature’s ability to smell. It has large olfactory receptors, larger even than a dog’s.”

  Cooper had turned back around and looked down at the seeker.

  ‘So that thing is part bloodhound, huh?”

  The doctor gave Cooper a thin smile.

  “Yes, you could put it that way. These things are likely capable of tracking someone at least as well as a bloodhound – probably better. Certainly faster.”

  The godfather placed a medical blanket over the seeker’s corpse and turned to Mac.

  “I need to show you all something else before you go to see the Russian. These things running around out there aren’t the only monsters you need to worry about. I need you to see something that convinces you there’s other monsters waiting for you. As deadly and disgusting as this thing laying on the table right here.”

  Mac looked down at the godfather, sensing the urgency coming from the smaller man’s tone of voice.

  “What is it you need to show us?”

  The godfather pointed to the stairwell behind them, wanting to take the group back upstairs.

  “A video.”

  XXIX.

  The group followed the godfather upstairs, through the examination room, and into the private office of Dr. Michaels. There they found a large wall monitor and six chairs for them to sit in.

  “Please have a seat. What I am about to show you was footage taken six months ago by a group of Muslims who had encountered some former residents of Wilfrid. These residents were just a small family. A father, a mother, and three children – a young boy of ten, and two daughters aged nine and seven. They had resided here with us for about five years, but had decided they wanted to live in an abandoned cabin they had found during an earlier camping trip that was to the east of Wilfrid alongside a small lake about seventy miles from here. They thought they’d be far enough from the road, and certainly any urban areas, that it would be nearly as safe as living here.

  “They were wrong. I had tried to convince them not to go. The husband, a young man named Gerald Wilkinson, ignored my warnings. They had friends here who warned them as well, but those warnings too were ignored. So they left here one morning, much like you are planning to do today, and set off to that lake that was just over the hill. That’s how Gerald put it to me personally – they were just going over the hill.

  “They made it to the cabin apparently. Our patrol report indicated it appeared they had been there for about a week, and were in the middle of fixing the place up. At some point around that time, they were paid a visit by a group of Muslim bandits who likely had been watching them since they left Wilfrid. What you will see is all too common behavior by these Muslims. They are animals and will not think twice about killing you if given the opportunity. There were likely ten or so of them, and…well, I’m going to let the footage speak for itself.”

  The wall monitor came to life, revealing dark, grainy video of the inside of what was likely the lake cabin the godfather had just referenced. The voices of several men could be heard speaking Arabic as the image finally rested on a man and woman bound and gagged and placed next to one another on their knees.

  The godfather pointed to the two figures.

  “As you likely already realized, that is Gerald Wilkinson and his wife Kate. The children are off camera.”

  One of the Muslim bandits stood behind Gerald Wilkinson and placed a small knife at his throat as two other bandits held hi
m down by the shoulders to limit his ability to struggle. Even with the poor quality of the video one could see Kate Wilkinson’s eyes grow wide with horror as her muffled screams momentarily drowned out the shouts of the bandits.

  The man standing behind Kate’s husband was repeating the same line over and over again, shouting it louder each time.

  As his eyes were fixated on the screen, Mac let the others know what was being said.

  “He’s shouting death to all infidels and god is great.”

  The bandit pressed his knife down into the flesh of Gerald Wilkinson’s neck and then rapidly jerked the blade from left to right several times. Kate Wilkinson attempted to move toward her husband and stop the man from cutting him, but another bandit came into the camera’s view and violently grabbed her by her hair until she fell onto her back where he then placed the heel of his boot on top of her chest to hold her down.

  Gerald Wilkinson began to make a horrific wheezing sound as the bandit’s knife began to cut into his wind pipe. Because none of the major arteries of the neck had yet been severed, Gerald was still very aware of what was being done to him, and yet made no attempt to rise from the floor or fight his would-be killer.

  “Why isn’t he fighting back?”

  Bear’s question was posed to no-one in particular, but he wanted an answer.

  The godfather pointed to the bottom of the screen.

  “It is most likely the Wilkinson’s children are just off camera being held in front of the parents. They probably have knives or guns pointed at them, and their father has been told that if he attempts to fight back, he will watch as his children are killed right in front of him.”

  Gerald Wilkinson’s wheezing grew louder, as a flap of skin from his throat could be seen moving into and out of the bleeding gash as he struggled for each breath. The bandit that had initiated the cutting of Gerald’s throat was growing tired and motioned for someone to continue the work he was too weary to finish. Another man entered the screen and laughed as he pointed to Gerald’s neck, taking the small knife and cutting with even more ferocity than the first Muslim bandit had. Soon the bleeding from the wound increased significantly as the knife cut into an artery. Gerald Wilkinson’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his struggles stopped completely, though his body continued to be held up. The only sounds from the footage were the increasingly labored breathing of the bandit who continued to cut threw the flesh and bone of Gerald’s neck, and the sobs of his wife Kate.

  Another of the bandits walked up to Gerald’s body and pulled his head sharply to the side three times in an attempt to break the neck. A loud snapping sound could be heard on the video tape, as the bandit holding the knife began hacking away at the final bits of tendon at the back of Gerald Wilkinson’s neck. Moments later he grabbed the top of Gerald’s severed head and held it out in front of him as several shouts of “God is great” in Arabic drowned out all other sound.

  Throwing the head to the side, the bandit who still held the knife motioned for Kate Wilkinson to be raised from the floor of the cabin. Her face was devoid of almost all expression as she stared into the camera. One of the men kicked her in the back and sent her falling forward onto her face, unable to catch her fall due to her hands being tightly bound behind her. Again she was forced back up into a kneeling position, and again her face showed no emotion, though blood could be seen dripping down from her nose. The bandit with the knife leaned down in front of Kate Wilkinson and began screaming at her, slapping her face, and scratching her throat.

  Again Mac interpreted what was being said.

  “They are calling her a whore, a breeder of infidels, a slut of Babylon.”

  What was viewed next even caused Mac to blink several times in shock.

  The knife was suddenly plunged several times into each of Kate Wilkinson’s eye sockets, leaving two gaping, bloody holes where her eyes once were. The mother of three screamed at first, but then again grew silent.

  Dublin looked away as Bear cursed under his breath. Cooper and Reese remained still and silent.

  Again the men began to chant “God is great” as the knife began to cut into the neck of Kate Wilkinson. She did not struggle, or cry out, but appeared to simply await the inevitable. There was no fight left in her – only the release of death. When her head too was held up for the camera, the bandit holding it walked closer to allow the viewers a better look at his face.

  He was heavily bearded, so his age was difficult to determine. His dark eyes reflected brightly inside the camera lens against the dim light of the cabin, and a very visible large scar ran from the bottom of his left eye to the left corner of his mouth. He began to shout something that sounded unlike anything else the bandits had been screaming of before.

  Mac looked over at the godfather before telling the others what was being said. Imran closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

  “He is saying the children of the infidels will be sold into slavery, and will fetch a very good price. He also says that soon the streets of Wilfrid will run thick with the blood of all those who oppose Allah and that from there, a great holy army will spread across the lands of Alaska.”

  The wall monitor went dark as the godfather turned to face Mac and the others in the room.

  “That is what you will be up against out there. Granted, if you are able to convince the Russian to help, you’ll be on the train, which will provide you some protection, but if you come upon any of these Muslims, please for the love of God – kill on sight. Don’t entertain the thought, even for a second, they are anything but the most dangerous and sickening animals you will ever find. I assume you’ve already come with weapons to protect yourselves, so please make sure you use them. Shoot to kill, every time, until you reach the priest in Churchill.”

  Mac rose from his seat and soon the rest did as well, though none of them cared to say anything after viewing the horror of what happened to the Wilkinson family. The godfather walked with them outside until they all stood beside Imran’s transport truck.

  “I’ve messaged the Russian. He knows my wishes to see him assist you with transport on the train. I cannot guarantee that will be enough. He is…he’s always been his own man, and a very stubborn one at that. But if he does agree to help, you won’t find a more loyal and dedicated partner in your journey. He’s different, but he’s honorable. Mac, thank you again for the fight last night, the conversation, and the song. I hope that you do manage to make it back down to Louisiana some day.”

  Mac looked back at the godfather and smiled as he shook his hand.

  “You make sure to protect yourselves. If there really is some Muslim uprising coming this way, you need to be prepared.”

  “Thank you, Mac – we already are.”

  Soon Imran’s truck was driving away from Wilfrid on the short journey to the Russian. Mac glanced out the passenger window as the town made in the image of 1950’s small town America faded from view, sensing he would never see it, its people, or the godfather again.

  XXX.

  There was no road leading to where the Russian was located, and the ride grew increasingly harsh, especially for those sitting in the back of Imran’s transport vehicle. Even Brando was having difficulty keeping his balance. Bear in particular appeared bothered by the violent bouncing as the truck drove over several jutting rocks.

  “For somebody who’s supposed to be so important, you’d think they would have invested a little bit into making some kind of road between here and there.”

  Cooper looked over at Bear and then up at the cloud covered sky.

  “The Russian is a different sort. Almost a hermit. Doesn’t like company.”

  Reese grabbed the side of the truck bed as yet another jolt shook the vehicle.

  “Is he as trustworthy as the godfather said he was?”

  Cooper scratched the several days worth of beard growth on his face as he contemplated Reese’s question.

  “Yeah – I suppose he is. Never heard of him not finish
ing a job that he said he’d take on. Stories about how he travels right into the heart of some of the worst Muslim areas has made him something of a legend. How true those stories are, I’m not sure. He’s always delivered for Imran, though, I know that.”

  Imran turned the transport truck sharply to the left and began to descend down a hill where at the bottom was a large structure with a sharply sloping steel roof. The truck paused halfway down the hill and Imran gave four, evenly spaced honks of the vehicle’s horn.

  Bear leaned up to peer over the roof cabin down to the building. His eyes spotted railroad tracks that appeared to run right through the middle of the structure. He could also see several dark piles of coal that leaned up against the one of the walls of the building. Each pile was covered with a light blue tarp.