The Shadow Above The Flames

by Daniel Swenson

  "Jacobson!" he yelled. "I found it."

  The specialist ran over to Rick and cursed again when he saw the cracked screen. He quickly pulled up a couple of maps and looked them over.

  "So, what have we got?" McAvoy asked as he approached them.

  "It’s not good, sir," Jacobson remarked. "According to the weather satellites, this storm is moving in fast. We might have sixty minutes before it hits. And we can't outrun it on anything less than a motorized vehicle, and I don't believe we have any solid options for transportation out here. But I'll go see if I can find anything that’ll work. Maybe I can find something that hasn't been ruined."

  After Jacobson ran off, McAvoy ordered Rick to help him find some tree branches that hadn't caught fire.

  "I don't mean to be confused by your order, sir,” Rick said, “but what exactly are we going to do with tree branches?"

  "We're going to lash the branches together and lay them over the entrance of the sewer in case we have to hide down there again. This is a Hail Mary because if the Beast does come, I doubt these branches will be able to provide us much cover, especially now that the grate to the sewer entrance has been destroyed."

  Once they had collected enough branches, Rick looked down at his watch and noticed that an hour had passed since Jacobson had left.

  The sky was almost pitch-black with forks of lightning dancing amid the chaos that swirled above. They ripped through the sky and slammed into the ground below more and more frequently. McAvoy cursed when another bolt blasted away a chunk of the field not too far from them.

  He clicked on his comm. "Jacobson, where are you?"

  The line was quiet except for a faint static.

  "Jacobson!" he yelled. "We're running out of time. I need to know if you've found a way out of here."

  The comm squelched with static for a moment before Jacobson replied. "I've found something. It's not the best option, but it's the only thing I could find that is still in working order. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there shortly."

  Rick and McAvoy peered up at the clouds. They were coming in fast, and the wind had grown stronger over the last hour. It was so dark that they needed to use the lights mounted to their guns to see. Dirt whipped all around them, causing them to cough. They tried to lash all the branches together, but the wind made it difficult. Eventually, they gave up and let the wind carry the branches away.

  McAvoy checked his leg to make sure he hadn't reopened his wound. Not long after, Jacobson arrived, riding an old beat-up four-wheeler with an amateur camouflage paint job and a makeshift trailer with an old metal fishing boat strapped to it. From what Rick could tell, the four-wheeler was in bad shape, although the boat appeared to have a fairly new and well-maintained motor even though the boat itself bore numerous patches.

  The four-wheeler sputtered and lurched to a stop.

  Jacobson said with a cheesy grin, "She may not look like much, but compared to everything else I found, she's a beauty. I don't know how much longer the engine will last, especially since the boat and the four-wheeler are partially full of some pretty old gas that is thick and gummy; I had to add some paint thinner I found to thin it out. All that matters now is for us to get the boat in the water and get as far up river as we can before our unexpected guest arrives."

  Jacobson tried multiple times to get the four-wheeler to kick-start. Eventually, it started, and the engine sputtered black smoke out its tail pipe, matching the clouds above. McAvoy and Rick carefully wrapped Wells’s body with a few wool blankets Jacobson had found before placing him and their equipment into the boat before giving Jacobson the signal to move out.

  The engine in the four-wheeler seized up twice during their short journey to the river. Each time it died, Jacobson reassured them that it would start again. After the second time the engine seized, McAvoy and Rick ran to collect broken branches and other debris that the wind had carried their way and then threw them over Wells's body. Thunder boomed in the skies to the west while several bolts of lightning flashed across the sky.

  Jacobson bullied the four wheeler into submission and got it going again. The struggling vehicle barely dragged the boat to the river’s edge before the gears in the engine made a horrible grinding noise with a loud clank and a snapping sound as the engine died. Thick black, foul-smelling smoke burst from the tail pipe, and that was that.

  Rick and the other two yanked and pulled at the boat, trying to get it into the water. The wind calmed, and the rumbling of thunder quieted. Rick worried that a giant demonic creature would swoop down out of the clouds and devour them where they stood. Several moments passed in silence. None of them dared to move, let alone breathe.

  "What should we do?" asked Rick.

  "We get this boat into the water and get the hell out of here; that’s what we're going to do." McAvoy exclaimed.

  Jacobson ran up and unhitched the trailer from the four wheeler, allowing it to slide further into the slow-flowing water. Luckily, once the trailer sunk deep into the river, the boat lifted off it. Soon they were able to get the boat fully off the trailer. Rick and McAvoy inspected the boat for any leaks. They couldn't find any, so they waved for Jacobson to come join them.

  McAvoy was the first to climb into the boat followed by Rick. Rick watched in amazement as Jacobson gave a salute of thanks to the old beat-up vehicle before running down to the water’s edge. Once he arrived, Rick extended his arm to help the specialist climb in. Jacobson ignored the proffered hand and pushed the boat farther out into the river. When he felt that they were far enough out, he climbed in and then set about getting the engine prepped and ready to go.

  The familiar but struggling rattle and hum of the engine firing up was sweet music to Rick's ears.

  McAvoy nodded to Jacobson and then turned his gaze skyward to watch the dark swirling clouds above. Jacobson turned the boat around, sending it upstream. The boat's engine sputtered in protest as it propelled them as fast as it could upriver. Rick carefully positioned the old branches, broken boards, and other debris over them so that the boat appeared to have nothing in it but a pile of branches.

  Small trails of black smoke puffed out of the exhaust ports while they journeyed along the eastern bank. The boat made good time as it pushed upstream, carrying Rick and his teammates out of Limavady. They were able to get about five miles south of town along the River Roe when the fury of the wind returned. Branches of nearby trees violently whipped from side to side as they desperately clung to the ground. The obsidian-colored clouds above lit up with a multitude of blue, green, and purple bolts of lightning, which ripped through the sky illuminating the landscape around them. There were moments between flashes where the sky looked so dark that Rick imagined that he peered into the center of a black hole.

  The wind grew stronger. It rushed across the land with such a force that some of the smaller trees that had desperately clung on for dear life were violently ripped from the ground and thrown into the darkness. The winds buffeted the boat making it almost impossible to navigate the river. Rick and the others clung to the sides of the boat while it tossed back and forth on the choppy water.

  Several times the wind threatened to capsize the boat, but Jacobson did his best to maneuver it so it wouldn't topple over from the winds. Then the freezing rain came. Large sheets of ice-cold water poured down from the sky, chilling each of the men down to the bone.

  McAvoy moved to the rear of the boat. He relieved Jacobson from his post and grabbed the control stick on the motor. Jacobson moved to the front and pointed at something along the western bank. Rick looked but couldn't make out what it was through the pouring rain. McAvoy nodded and muscled the boat into submission and guided it towards the western shore, where an ancient oak tree stood.

  As they neared the shore, Rick jumped out of the boat, followed by Jacobson. The two men heaved the boat out of the water and lugged it ashore. The river and the wind worked against them and threatened to pull the boat back into the dangerous waters. Once they we
re sure that the boat wouldn't slide back into the river, they lifted their equipment out of it.

  Jacobson patted the large gnarled roots that hung over his head. "I'm amazed that a tree this size survived the devastation of the Beast or the fact that it appears to be thriving in this element. Most of the plants we've seen so far have either been dead or sick."

  The branches of the old tree swayed back and forth to the rhythm of the wind. It reached out over the river, sometimes dipping the ends of its long branches into the water like a small child running its fingers along the water’s surface.

  Jacobson ran his hand along the large roots of the tree. "What do you think, Sarge? Should we hold up here or keep going?"

  "I'm not sure," McAvoy answered.

  Rick held onto the boat, shivering in the cold rain. "We can't stay out in this weather, sir. We need to find a place to get warm or else we'll freeze to death. This rain is unnaturally cold."

  McAvoy nodded and spoke to Jacobson. "Do you think we can build a shelter here?"

  Jacobson examined the extensive root system of the tree to determine the best way to build a shelter around it. In the process, he found a small cave beneath the base of the tree. A flash flood had torn a section of the bank away from the tree’s roots, creating an opening to a small cave.

  Jacobson pulled out a handheld flashlight and made his way under the tree roots to examine the cave further. The cave was small but could easily hold four men if they huddled together. The trick would be getting Wells’s body inside. Jacobson made his way back to McAvoy.

  "Sir, there is a cave underneath the tree. It appears to be big enough to hold the three of us and Wells’s body. I suggest we use some of the rocks and mud to build a retaining wall to keep the river at bay in case it rises."

  McAvoy looked where Jacobson pointed, peering in the darkness to see the cave entrance. Unfortunately, he was too tired, and the darkness was too thick for his eyes to see it.

  "I'll take your word for it,” he said. “Let's get to work!"

  Rick and Jacobson carefully placed Wells’s body inside the rocky cave and pushed some of the larger rocks from the river’s edge near the entrance to the cave. While they worked, McAvoy applied mud and dry grass all around the rocks, trying to create a barrier between them and the water.

  Lightning tore through the sky partially blinding all three men. The wind picked up and whipped about them ferociously. The water splashed against the barrier, trying to batter it down like a horde of half-crazed demons. McAvoy ordered the men to take shelter in the cave. They refused and continued to work furiously at building the makeshift retaining wall. The obsidian clouds whirled, turning a sickly green color.

  "Get inside!" McAvoy bellowed again over the roar of the wind.

  Jacobson looked up from his work and noticed the change in the clouds. He leaned in to whisper something to Rick and then crawled into the cave. McAvoy tried to repair a section of the wall as the river splashed angrily against the new barricade. Rick tried to make his way in the storm and stumbled when he passed McAvoy. He stopped dead in his tracks when a gigantic flame erupted from the clouds, slamming down on to the ruined structures of Limavady. The light from the fire shone with such an intensity that Rick had to shield his eyes. McAvoy cursed as he, too, shielded his eyes from the blazing light. "What in God's name is that?"

  Rick could only shrug as he stared in wonder. The flames danced about the structures, devouring them as they frolicked from one building to the next. A few buildings collapsed, and the wind unrelentingly battered at their crumbling walls. Another column of flame erupted from the clouds, igniting the trees along the river’s edge near the town.

  Rick felt the knot in his stomach tighten. The intensity of the pain rivaled that of a long forgotten weekend trip to Tijuana. A trip he and Henry had taken when he turned twenty-one. Henry warned him not to drink the water and to stay away from some of the spicier foods. That night Rick believed he was invincible. Unfortunately, life knew better, and the next morning he awoke with one of the worst gut-wrenching experiences of his life, until now.

  Rick heard Henry's voice in his mind. I always listen to my gut, kid, and it says to run and hide. So that's what we're going to do!

  "Sarge!" Rick yelled. "We need to get in the cave before—"

  Rick stopped midsentence as a foul creature descended out of the clouds. His throat became dry and constricted. Rick and McAvoy watched the Beast descend with its long reptilian body well over a hundred and twenty meter long from its head to the end of its sleek, swishing tail. Its wingspan could have easily rivaled the width of two jumbo jets side by side. The membranes of its wings effortlessly collected the wind as it blew, allowing the Beast to glide majestically across the skies. Its long serpentine neck had rows of razor-sharp spikes protruding from its scaly hide, and its large reptilian head possessed a set of powerful jaws that Rick imaged could snap a car in two.

  The Beast moved about, circling over the buildings below. As it passed, its tail slammed into the buildings, knocking over structures. Rick knew by the way the creature swirled around the town that it searched for something, and he knew what it was searching for.

  Jacobson kneeled inside the entrance of the cave, signaling for the others to join him. Rick knew he should run but stood transfixed by the sight before him. Fear coursed through his veins like an icy serpent paralyzing him with fear.

  The Beast bellowed forth a cry, triumphantly declaring its arrival, as it hovered over the city. Rick and the other two men had to cover their ears for fear of it bursting their eardrums even at this distance. Rick felt himself being pulled away from the scene that unfolded before him.

  Oh God! I'm going to die, he thought.

  Fear and panic griped his heart like the cold hand of death, so he lashed out. He threw a punch to his left, striking something solid. Then he heard someone curse. Still the hands tried to pull and tug at him. Rick thrashed, throwing punches from time to time or kicking out with his boots. All he could see were flames burning the city to the ground. He imagined the sounds of death. He heard the coughing fit of his grandfather.

  Somewhere in all the tumult in his mind, he heard his name shouted by someone familiar. However, he couldn’t remember who the voice belonged to.

  All he wanted to do was run and hide, to get away from the flames and find some way out of this nightmare. Again he heard his name and still he fought against the rising darkness within him. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he felt the shock and sting of something striking him in the back of the head, and then all went black.

  The Beast reveled in the glory of destruction as one human creation after another gave way to its power. It purred when it felt the ground tear free from another human creation. Nothing was safe as the Beast rampaged through what was left of the small abandoned Irish village.

  The Beast thrashed around with a vengeance, seeking the humans it knew had to be somewhere in the ruins of this human town. It could smell their faint musky odor drifting upon the wind mixed with the scent of death, fire, and ash. The Beast's anger was insatiable when it came to humans. How dare these insignificant creatures defile its home?

  The Beast had survived for several thousand millennia. It had survived and defeated creatures more powerful than these pathetic humans, yet these vermin still thrived after all these centuries.

  The Beast landed, slamming hard upon the ground creating cracks in the rock-like structure that lay across it. It flexed its talons, causing them to dig deep into the earth. It flared its nostrils, taking in all the scents about it.

  The scent of the humans grew fainter. Frustrated, the creature tore large chunks of earth and launched them high into the air. The gouged fissure collapsed into the sewers below, causing a stench to rise up into its nostrils, which he shut in disgust.

  Leave it to the humans to create underground tunnels to hide their filth. Did the stupid things not know that earth provided protection and warmth? the Beast wondered. But then something registe
red in its awareness. Just before it slammed its nostrils closed, it picked up the scent of the rotting filth of the humans.

  The Beast's scaly lips pulled back, revealing its large razor-sharp teeth as it cackled in delight.

  Oh, these humans are good, it thought.

  The Beast tore into the flesh of the earth like a small child flinging its toys about as their scent grew stronger. Flames erupted as the Beast tore through old gas mains, still filled with gas from the days before the town was abandoned. The conflagration was a sight worthy of the world’s greatest fireworks display: flames erupted from the ground, buildings and earth flew into the air, and light from the flames reflected off broken windows. Structures created a cascade of rainbows that danced and sparkled off the Beast’s sleek and shimmering scales.

  The Beast tore at the ground burrowing deeper and deeper into the earth, searching for these miscreants that dared enter its realm. How could they evade its keen senses? it thought. It raised its head trying to detect their scent again. The scent was faint, but it was still there, teasing its nostrils. The Beast glared at the buildings that still remained. The structures infuriated it, reminding it that these humans were somewhere near, which only sent it further into rage.

  Where could these humans be hiding? Their stink emanated from the exposed tunnels. It could smell their iron-tinged blood, making the Beast want to feast upon their bones.

  The Beast vaulted up into the air, pumping its massive wings to carry him higher into the sky where he could search for any signs of the humans’ location—some movement, a sound, anything that would reveal where they were.

  Growing bored and embittered of the hunt, it reached deep within itself for the warm tingle of fire that rested inside its chest. It drew forth a tiny portion of the flame and summoned the fire up into its waiting maw. The Beast belched forth a gigantic plume of flame that bore down upon the ground, engulfing everything in its path as it flew overhead.