A World Darkly (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 3)

by John Triptych

  Tyrone wiped off some of the rain on his head with his hand as he stood before the captain of the Nimrod. “Sir, my name is Tyrone Gatlin. I’m sorry for having to bother you like this, but I heard that you are headed east, towards the Deep South. I would like to request to join you. You see, I need to get back home to Georgia.”

  Captain Pillinger eyeballed the young man in front of him with his cold grey eyes. He had a .357 Magnum Ruger Redhawk revolver strapped to his side holster and wore alligator skin boots. Pillinger’s silvery hair was long and tousled, his grizzled beard extended down to the top of his chest. There was a scar on his right cheek. “My crew is all set, Mr. Gatlin. I don’t need another passenger either. This isn’t gonna be a river cruise or a transport job. My men and I are in the middle of a hunting expedition,” he said.

  Tyrone nodded. “I understand that, Captain. My problem is that I need to get to Georgia as soon as possible and all the roads are flooded. I’ll do anything that you ask me to do. I can bring my own food and help out as best I can.”

  “The captain told you we don’t take in any more people, boy,” Glanton growled in Tyrone’s ear. “You must be stupid in not even getting that.”

  “I’m sorry, but I gotta go with you,” Tyrone said softly. He felt like someone else was putting words in his mouth. “Like I said, I’ll do anything.”

  Glanton pulled out his pistol again. “Captain, this here black dog obviously won’t take no for an answer. I can easily get him outta here right now.”

  Pillinger held out his hand, signaling Glanton to stop before looking at Tyrone once more. “That true, boy? You won’t take no for an answer? You do realize that we can kill you anytime you’re here on this boat. The new rule is that there are no rules now. The ones with the guns make the law. I don’t want to get into a conflict with the community here since I trade with them every few weeks or so. But it won’t stop me from killing you the moment we are on our way. I don’t need anyone demanding anything on my ship.”

  “I’m making no demands, sir,” Tyrone said. There was a compulsion in him now, something that wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I’m actually just beggin’ you to be a part of your expedition. I promise I won’t be a burden to you at all. If you’ll just have me. I can sleep anywhere and do anything you want.”

  Glanton held the pistol at the back of Tyrone’s head. “Just lemme shoot this stubborn son of a bitch right now.”

  “Put the gun away, Glanton,” Pillinger said.

  “But Captain, he—”

  Pillinger placed his own hand on the butt of his Redhawk revolver. “I said put it away!”

  Glanton cursed as he safetied his Kimber before placing it underneath his poncho for the second time.

  “Just give me a chance, Cap’n,” Tyrone said. He felt his heart had stopped beating a couple of times in the last few seconds. He thought he was going to be dead for sure. “Anything you want I could do.”

  Pillinger snorted. He could easily have the man killed but he was feeling somewhat charitable today. Perhaps the gods could clear the weather for them so that they could finally get going. “We could use another deckhand, the ship’s got enough spare room anyway. What part of Georgia are you headed to?”

  “My folks live in Macon, sir,” Tyrone said. Maybe if he could just get there, maybe the dreams would stop. “If I could get anywhere near that part I could make my own way after.”

  Pillinger crossed his arms as he leaned back on the pilot wheel. “The ship is only gonna skirt around Georgia. We will head into Columbus for a fuel run before we head southwards towards Florida.”

  “Columbus would be fine, sir,” Tyrone said.

  Pillinger waved a stubby finger at him. “Remember, I am captain of this ship. My word is law. If you get in the way of my crew I will personally execute you myself. You screw up and it’s gonna be your ass. Is that clear?”

  Tyrone couldn’t help but smile. Whatever was eating him up from the inside finally stopped. “Clear as day, sir.”

  Pillinger looked at Glanton. “JJ, get the man set up with a bunk. Tell Eight-Ball he has a new assistant in case he needs help in the engine room.”

  Glanton couldn’t hide his disgust as bits of chew dribbled from his mouth. “We don’t really need another coon on this boat, Captain.”

  Pillinger’s demeanor changed almost instantly. His face reddened and his grimace was like the face of death. He didn’t say anything but instead just stared deep into Glanton’s eyes. Despite not being the focus of the captain’s anger, Tyrone was also terrified.

  Glanton immediately took a step back as his chin started trembling. “Okay, Captain. Whatever you say,” he said before turning around and walking back out into the pouring rain.

  After a few tense moments, Pillinger calmed down again. “Looks like my First Mate took an instant dislike to you.”

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” Tyrone said. He hated Glanton too but it was best not to say so. “I’ll see if I could earn his trust.”

  “You do that,” Pillinger said. “Just remember that him and me have been working as a team for months now and I trust him a lot more than I trust you. Don’t force me to choose again, because next time you will lose.”

  “Understood, Captain.”

  Pillinger kept staring at him. “You’re a deserter, aren’t you?”

  Tyrone was instantly surprised. “I’m sorry, what—”

  “Didn’t you hear me the first time, boy? I was asking if you was a deserter.”

  Tyrone blinked rapidly in confusion. “H-how?”

  “It’s the little things that gave you away,” Pillinger said. “Your haircut, your build, and especially those Army boots you wearing. I was in the Marines myself, but that was a long time ago. You a coward, boy?”

  A sense of shame washed over him. “I-I ain’t no coward, sir.”

  “Yet you ran, didn’t you? Why else would you be stuck in this shithole. Did you even fight the Aztecs at all?”

  Tyrone straightened his stance. It felt like he was standing in front of a military tribunal. “I did fight them, sir. I used everything I had but it wasn’t enough. My unit was wiped out so I figured it was time to leave. The enemy coulda easily captured me but they didn’t. It felt like they were just ignoring me as I walked right past ‘em. I did fight. I ain’t no coward and I’m willing to prove that.”

  Pillinger scratched his beard. “We’re gonna see if you’re a coward or not. If you desert my crew during battle, I will put a bullet in your head. There won’t even be a court martial here. I gotta have a crew that’s willing to fight as a team and willing to kill for each other. If you are going to stay with us, you better be ready to do just that. There can be no hesitation, we will be up against some very dangerous beasts out here.”

  “I gave you my word, Captain,” Tyrone said. “I’ll stick with it no matter what happens.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Pillinger said. “Do you know why we’re out here, boy? Do you know where we going?”

  Tyrone shrugged. “Not really, sir. I think you’re the head of some sort of expedition. I’m not really sure about what it’s all about.”

  “Have you been back to your home state lately?”

  “No, sir. Not since this Glooming started. Last time I was in Georgia was right after basic training. After that it was mostly at Fort Irwin.”

  “Then you don’t know what you’re heading into,” Pillinger said wistfully. “The South is now a bunch of islands and peninsulas surrounded by bayous and waterways thanks to the Glooming. I gotta update my maps daily. All sorts of strange animals have popped up and the investors that hired me want their hides. This is the second expedition I’m mounting. Do you know how many of my men I lost in the first one?”

  “I dunno, sir.”

  Pillinger looked out of the window. The sheets of rain hitting the glass of the pilot house created cascading shadows on his face. “I lost half of my men. We got hit by something really bad just east of New Orleans.
Out there in the new lakes. Things just in came at night and started plucking my people as if they were sheep for slaughter. Strange flying creatures I can barely even describe. A few of my crew were screaming for help as they were being carried away into the darkness. But there was nothing we could do. Even with all our guns, we emptied ‘em, mostly into the air since we couldn’t see ‘em. The crew was pretty much on edge after that, but I insisted we keep on going. You know what? Them flying things wasn’t even the worst thing we encountered on that last trip.”

  “What coulda been worse than that, sir?”

  Pillinger looked down on the wooden floor. “It was that damned snake. Biggest son of a bitch I ever seen. Came out of the water and it was bigger than the boat. It had a glowing hide, like having diamonds for scales. Its head was huge, like the size of a small car and it had horns growing out of it. We tried to bring it down but we didn’t have much ammo left after the fight with the flying things. The giant snake just picked us off, man by man and just swallowed ‘em whole. Then for some reason, it just sunk back into the dark water as if its belly was full. I learned an important lesson that day, that one must always be prepared for anything.”

  Tyrone didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

  “That goddamned snake killed my son,” Pillinger said softly. “So I spent everything I had in order to repair this boat and find new backers as well as hiring more crew. This time I got me the meanest, nastiest people who are willing to do whatever it takes to find that snake and bring its head back to my investors in Tennessee. You must have noticed that the crew we have for this boat isn’t much and there seems to be plenty of room for passengers, right?”

  “Yes sir. I was wondering why don’t you wanna ferry more people. I’m sure you could make a lot of money doin’ it. You got enough space for it.”

  “Our displacement isn’t that low right now since the ship is mostly empty,” Pillinger said. “I’m gonna need the space if we’re gonna find that snake, kill it and chop it up. I made sure we stocked up triple ammo loads for everyone. At this stage, you don’t get a gun. You need to prove yourself as a part of this crew first. Is that clear?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “After all that you heard, and what happened and where we’re going, are you sure you still want in on this?”

  Tyrone didn’t bat an eye. “Yes sir.”

  Pillinger narrowed his eyes. He suspected something. “You must be really desperate to go this way if you are going with us, son. If you really wanted to just go back to your family you could have gone up north towards Missouri, then head east until you got to the government controlled areas in Virginia. I heard they still have a transport system for refugees so you could have gone south towards Georgia from there. Since this direct route is more dangerous, why don’t you tell me the real reason you want on this boat, boy.”

  Tyrone looked away for a bit before meeting the captain’s eyes. He wasn’t even sure of himself. “Because my god told me so.”

  “Your god? Who’s your god?”

  “The Master of Breath, he goes by the name of Esaugetuh Emissee. He came to me many times in a dream. All I could feel was being on this boat and meeting a giant snake in a swamp. Then my dream ended and I would wake up.”

  Pillinger seemed unconvinced. “So you’re headed into a pretty dangerous journey and it’s all because of a dream? Hell, boy, you’re either your god’s shaman or you just plain crazy. Right now, I dunno what to think of you.”

  “I’m here, sir. I don’t wanna be anywhere else. I’ll see this through.”

  “So you were dreaming about this snake? Tell me about it,” Pillinger said.

  “The snake is called estakwvnayv in Muscogee, otherwise known as the horned serpent. The Choctaw called it the sinti lapitta, while others call it the Sint-Holo. It was a powerful monster and would bring men to their doom if they fought it, but sometimes it would appear to a few of the tribe’s chosen. That’s all I know about it.”

  “So you do know something about these legends then,” Pillinger said. “Maybe you might be useful after all.”

  Tyrone grinned. “Thank you, Captain!”

  “Don’t thank me yet, boy. Right now you just a deckhand, the lowest of the low. You need to gain everyone’s respect. Especially Glanton’s. We’re going to cast off as soon as the rain subsides and the visibility gets better. You need to say goodbye to anyone?”

  “Just the family I’m stayin’ with, sir.”

  “Well go on, get to it then. Say your goodbyes and stow your gear onboard,” Pillinger said. “Just remember one other rule on this ship and this one you ought to never forget.”

  Tyrone was about to leave the pilot house before he turned his head. “What rule is that, Captain?”

  “Never enter my cabin unannounced. If I ever see you in there, I’m gonna put a bullet in your head.”

  8. Thunder Run

  Kansas City

  Steve Van Dyke used his binoculars as he stood on the roof of the now abandoned concrete building. He was looking past the freeway to his right and into the outskirts of the city beyond. It was late afternoon and he was checking if there was any sort of activity east of the Kansas River. Crouching beside him were two men with portable radios. They were part of an advanced observation team from the Soldiers of the Lord, the official designated army of the newly independent state of Christian Kansas. While the SOL radiomen were dressed in US Army combat uniforms with their universal tan and green camouflage patterns, Steve still wore his dark blue Dallas SWAT uniform. The one thing they did have in common was their badges: there was a black patch with a white cross where the American flag was supposed to be. Although Steve had been given a new pair of fatigues by the SOL logistics corps, he preferred to wear clothes from his old vocation. The fact that he was not officially a member of the Kansas Armed Forces meant that he preferred to look the part of an outsider instead. He was to serve as nothing more than a civilian observer for this mission, and so he felt that wearing military fatigues would only confuse the men even further. The other reason was pride. Steve’s reputation had grown and he wanted to be distinct from the others. The men of the SOL constantly referred to him as the “SWAT general” even though he wasn’t even part of the officer corps. That kind of status only made his head swell even bigger.

  Straddling the border between the states of Kansas and Missouri, Kansas City was the largest metropolitan city in the region. When the State of Kansas declared its independence, the new country immediately claimed everything up to its state borders. Since Kansas City was still considered part of Missouri, the city itself remained as a part of United States territory, despite the fact that a number of its suburbs were thought to be a part of the new country. In time, the city’s namesake had become an obsession with the new theocratic government in Christian Kansas, and plans were soon made to bring the city under its control. Even though this very mission might spark a violent conflict, Pastor Erik Burnley, the newly styled president of Christian Kansas, decreed that the city itself must be taken so that it could be part of the new holy country they were building to resist the pagan gods all around them.

  Steve looked over at where the Interstate-670 was. He could see that the convoy of SOL vehicles were sitting idly by as they waited for the signal to advance across the freeway that spanned the river. The SOL brigade had been slowly deploying over the past few days as they prepared to storm across the bridges and into the heart of the city. The metropolitan center of Kansas City was straddling between two rivers, the Missouri and Kansas waterways, and it was roughly in the shape of a Y. The western side was part of the state of Kansas while the northern and eastern sides were officially part of Missouri. Steve figured that if the SOL forces could advance past the River Market area, they would be able to cut off the northern part of the city and that would enable them to keep the rest. If we can get to the edge of Sugar Creek and to the east side in the south, then the city would be ours, he thought.

  The radio th
at the two SOL soldiers were manning started to squawk. One of the men listened using his headset before looking up at Steve. “Sir, it’s General Teller on the line, he wants to talk to you.”

  Steve sat down and took the headset and receiver from the radioman. “Van Dyke here.”

  General Chuck Teller’s booming voice was on the other line. “Steve, have you seen anything so far?”

  Steve keyed in the receiver. “Nothing from my vantage point. Central Industrial District seems deserted. Any intel from our choppers, over?”

  “Negative, they saw a few civilians running down the street, but nothing else when they made two passes over the metropolitan area, over.”

  Steve looked up at the clear blue skies above them. It seemed like a perfect day. It was pity that there could be bloodshed the moment they began their advance. Yet there was something gnawing at the back of his mind. Everything had been too peaceful lately. It was highly probable that the Feds in Virginia knew they would make a grab for the city, yet the place seemed pretty defenseless. Either the Feds were totally incompetent, or something was going on. “It’s your call, General,” he said over the receiver. “In my opinion, I just don’t like it, over.”

  “What is it that you don’t like, over?”

  “The whole set up, it seems too easy,” Steve said. “I think the Feds might be planning something, over.”

  “I’ve had both of my gunships doing recces for the past couple of hours and all they see are civvies, over.”

  “Like I said, General, it’s your call, over.”

  “Okay, I’m taking in two companies for a thunder run, over.”