by M. K. Gibson
“Chael?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah, this big—and I mean bigger than a demon—human with long black hair and pale white skin. So anyway, they all got into Father Grimm’s outrider and then literally vanished in a flash of energy. It wasn’t until later the kids in the transport told me that they saw TJ hide in the trunk of the vehicle.”
“The Tears of God,” Taylor said quietly.
“What is dis, Tears of God?” asked the short mech that held the disembodied head of Nikola Tesla.
“I don’t know,” Khurzon said. “It’s something the rulers want but a demon can’t get. I guess blowing up Abraxas and everything else Salem did racked up a massive bill. Apparently this was the only way he could make reparations. So, they sent their favorite errand boy to do it.”
“No,” Vidar said. “We helped in that. All of that. It isn’t fair.”
“No shit,” Khurzon said with a shrug. “But that’s demons for you.”
“Where are The Tears of God?” Salem’s father asked.
“Salem said Maz told him they were in The Temple of Solomon. And that Chael creature seemed to know something about it. But, to be fair, that big bastard seemed to be insane. Come to think of it, Salem did say Chael was possessed by the Deep Ones.”
“What?!” Taylor said, getting to his feet as he slammed the table.
Khurzon stared at Taylor blankly. “Yeah. It’s like I said, Chael seemed to know something about it. And since Salem, and I doubt TJ, have the power to teleport, that meant Chael is more than a ten-foot possessed psychopath. Salem guessed he was a nephilim, which could explain why he was giant and powerful.”
“Nephilim.” Taylor shook his head and sat back down, putting his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.
“So vat do we do now?” T asked. “Find Salem? We contact him!”
“Can’t,” Khurzon said, shaking her head. “Salem was given very strict guidelines. Maz said he had all of Salem’s transponder signal codes. Contact with Löngutangar in any way made you culpable in his escape and thus they would move on you instantly. The only thing he can do is get The Tears, bring them back, and have his debt wiped clean.”
“We have to do something,” Taylor said. “I have to find my boy! Vali, we have to do something.”
“There is nothing we can do,” Vali said.
Immediately the table broke out into multiple conversations and outcries. Each person had a different idea of what needed to be done. Vali’s mind reeled with the confusion, and his mind crystallized with the only way forward.
“Enough!” Vali said, slapping his hands down hard against the wooden table, rattling the bottles and plates. “There is nothing we can do,” he repeated.
When the table ceased talking and gave their full attention to Vali, he continued. “None of us know exactly where Salem and TJ are. We could possibly find out, but there is no guarantee we could get to him in time to help. If what the demon—”
“I have a name,” Khurzon said.
“What the demon said is true,” Vali said with a sideways glance at Khurzon, “then Salem must do this on his own. If he fails, then they are coming to destroy us. If we try and help, they destroy us. Which means we have to prepare for the worst.”
The table fell silent. Vali leaned forward with his head on the knuckles of his closed fists, his wavy blond hair in front of his face.
“Those children who were stolen from us are back. Thanks to the courage and insanity of Salem and—” Vali paused. “And also thanks to this brave, and oddly noble, demon. Khurzon.”
The Wrath Demon nodded in gratitude at Vali’s acknowledgment.
“Tonight we will celebrate the return of the children. But tomorrow preparations start immediately.”
Vali took a breath and began to pass out the commands, starting with his brother.
“Vidar, take charge of the garrison soldiers. Get this place ready for war. Taylor, get a signal set up that everyone knows about. When they hear it, they are to drop everything and take shelter. Tesla, we spoke before about excavations and expansion underground, adding on to Salem’s lair.”
“Da.”
“And? How has the work gone?”
“Shitty,” T said, the mech containment suit shrugging. “If you want the place to grow, topside or under, we need new source of power. Geo-thermal power insufficient for this many people. We up the shit creek without the paddle.”
“Damn it,” Vali said.
“Unless. . .” T said, his synth voice going up in mischievous thought.
“Unless what?”
“You know vat I want. You let me have that, and I think I able to supply power we need. Help underground expansion, power problem, HVAC for fallout shelter, and everything else we discuss. Possible tunnel under city walls as well, escape route into wasteland.”
Vali knew what the cyborg wanted. Up until then, he had intentionally kept it away from him. And not for the reasons T thought. But dire circumstances called for dire acts.
“All right, you can use it. It isn’t doing anything more than collecting dust. But you have to promise me, source of power only. Nothing more. The Hammer of Thor is a relic.”
“Svakako,” T said, his voice sounding hurt at the notion.
“Elena, please assist Taylor with the warning and emergency routes. Abraham, please assist T with the power situation.”
“Left yourself out,” Vidar noted. “What you gonna do?”
Vali took a deep breath. “I’m going to hurt them.”
Chapter Eight
A Good Ol’ Fashioned Herd-Stomp
Now, in the Waste
So, I escaped prison so I could help my friends. And, in less than twenty-four hours, I was a prisoner again. Life’s funny that way.
As funny as pushing a pufferfish through your peehole.
The herd surrounded the Outrider, and we were forced to drive along slowly as they guided us along a narrow path for the next hour in silence.
The silence ate at me. When I was in the heat of the moment, I was out of my own head. Reacting to my surroundings instead of dwelling on shit I couldn’t do anything about. Like the timetable I was under. Like Gh’aliss. Like the children and people of Löngutangar.
Hell, I think the reasons I actively sought out danger while scrubbing my brain with booze was so I didn’t have time to reflect on the past. All the little adventures of life that led a person to where they are. Silence forces you to spend time with yourself. Problem was, what if you hated who you were?
Ugh, silence sucks.
Each time I tried to turn on some music to pass the boring time, my new passenger in the back seat, the female buffalo woman in her hybrid form, would slap me in the back of the head.
“Not a music lover, eh?” I asked.
I was rewarded with a slap in the back of the head.
“You know it’s unsafe to hinder the driver’s ability to operate a motor vehicle?”
Another slap. “You’re in the passenger seat,” the buffalo woman said.
I did nothing in return. Considering I’d spent the last few months in prison, this was amateur hour by comparison. Plus, with the shield The Collective put up with each hit, I only felt a bit of the impact. But her hand must be killing her. So, victory was mine.
The scowl on TJ’s face told me he was plotting something stupid. I caught his eye and shook my head slightly. I appreciated the boy’s spirit, but hormone-fueled exuberance could get us killed.
“At the risk of another slap, may I ask, do you have a name?”
“Yes,” the hybrid buffalo woman growled, saying nothing more.
“Well, good for you then.”
Slap.
I shook my head at the situation and decided to just close my eyes for a bit. I had no idea how long the trip was, but these folks had interrupted my post-prison break sleep. For that alone I dubbed them assholes.
I know it’s weird to think I could sleep at a time like this, but as a former soldier,
learning to catch a few Z’s wherever and whenever was a valuable skill. I knew TJ could use the rest as well, but he’s young. They seem to have nothing but energy. With my eyes closed, I let myself listen to the gentle hum of the Outrider and the clip-clop pace of the herd. With the steady white noise, I was asleep in seconds.
********
A Long Time Ago
The door to the cabin opened and Isaac’s father, Abraham McMillan, stepped out with an M-4 carbine. The older man set the weapon to three-round bursts, and stood side by side with his son, firing in controlled bursts, picking off the kudja. Abraham was smart, targeting the most dangerous of the pack first. He dropped the first one, but the second began a charge with the three remaining hellions following behind it.
The kudja was closing in fast. Isaac knew he had to act quickly.
The hellhound raced towards the cabin, its jaws wide with frothy saliva. Isaac sidestepped at the last second, bringing the kraak down on the back of the monster’s neck, cutting down to the spine. Even near death, it was formidable. The monster turned and swiped at Isaac with its massive clawed paw, spraying its lifeblood in a desperate attempt to take a life before it died.
Isaac rolled with the attack as best as he could, hitting the ground, shoulder rolling and coming back up to his feet. He brought the kraak up to swing it like a bat to finish the creature off when he was tackled hard to the ground by one of the incoming hellions.
Isaac felt a rib crack on impact with the ground, losing the kraak in the fall. The hellion was on top of him, trying to go for the kill. Isaac grabbed the hellion by the throat and held it away as it blindly clawed and punched at his face. Another three-round burst from Abraham and the hellion’s head sprouted bloody holes.
The hellion fell over dead, just in time for the wounded kudja to pounce on Isaac. It was weak and Isaac was slippery from all the blood. They rolled in the snow trying to kill one another. Isaac latched onto some of the demon’s exposed bone in its neck and wrenched as hard as he could. His enhanced strength snapped the creature’s spine and the monster at last fell dead.
The clean white snow outside the cabin was soaked in human and demon blood. Isaac lay there as his father picked off the last two hellions with the M-4.
“Son, are you all right?!” Abraham asked, rushing to Isaac’s side.
Isaac nodded, not wanting to talk or move. His ribs hurt like hell and any extra movement made the situation worse. He had to give The Collective time to get him to a mobile state at minimum.
A whistling sound cut the quiet night air.
Isaac knew that sound. Shriekers. Hellion mini-spears launched at a distance that came down in razor-sharp groups.
“Dad, move!” Isaac yelled as he lunged, pushing his father away.
Eight shriekers landed where Isaac had been, oozing Hell-made paralytic poison into the snow. More hellions were out there, and they were coming this way.
********
My eyes snapped open. I sat up straight in the Outrider, looking around.
Jesus. What was my subconscious trying to tell me?
There were certain memories I really needed to stay buried. Flotsam brought back the part of me who was once “Reynolds.” But the decades I spent as that sleazy asshole didn’t fill me with the self-loathing that night did.
I lit a cigarette and waited for the dream to melt from my conscious mind.
It didn’t.
I did get another slap in the back of the head.
“Put out that filthy thing.”
“No,” I growled.
I turned fast and caught the buffalo-woman’s wrist before she slapped me again. I slowly began applying pressure. At first she did nothing. Then I felt her try and pull her hand away, and I held firm. She was big and strong. But my cybernetics, especially after being tinkered on by Tesla, increased my strength far beyond that of a normal man.
I continued to squeeze on her wrist. Her bestial form, like a bison minotaur, was like Vali’s if not as grand as the king of the werewolves. But bone was bone, after all. All the muscle in the world didn’t mean shit against the necessary pounds of pressure per square inch it took to break bone.
“You’ve caught us, and since then we’ve been compliant. But if you hit me, or the kid, one more fucking time, I’m going to rip your goddamn arm off and beat you with it.”
I stared the hybrid in her black glossy eye, letting her know I was one hundred percent serious. “And this,” I said holding up the smoke, “is the only thing keeping my manners in check.”
I let her hand go and turned back around in my seat. And since I was feeling so goddamn cocky, I flipped on the digital music player and blasted “Kung Fu Fighting” for no reason other than to be a dick.
The large hybrid bruiser walking along side of the Outrider, however, did not care for Carl Douglas’s one-hit wonder. Or possibly for my treatment of the Lady Slaps-a-lot. The bruiser grabbed the back of my neck, pulled me from the Outrider, and tossed me to the frozen ground.
Remember that little speech about the required pounds of pressure to break bones? Now imagine getting trampled on by a herd of angry buffalo.
Lucky for me, my bones weren’t exactly bone. But a good ol’ fashioned herd-stomp still hurt.
********
Walking behind the outrider with my hands bound and a rope leash around my neck was another new low point in my long life. Nothing against a little light bondage, but this was another indignity in my life’s long line of little eff-you’s.
The gag in my mouth was overkill.
These people hadn’t actually done anything overtly harmful, which was why I played along. That, and there were twenty-five of them. I could snap the rope easily and make a break for it. But that did squat for TJ.
Short of another hour of walking, the sun broke the horizon, painting the frost-covered land in warm, red-gold light. I could see a path before us through the rocky pass. Through the pass, and to the bottom of the ravine, everything opened into a beautiful snow-covered valley.
Nestled into the valley I could see signs of life. Rudimentary and temporary homes were constructed in the open, while others were built more permanently into the rocky walls and caves of the ravine.
Children played games, running free, while adults worked. There was a sense of energy and life to the community. I couldn’t get an exact count, but there were easily a couple hundred people. Whoever these people were, they appeared to be nomadic, moving from one camp to another.
The herd stopped, as did the Outrider. I took the opportunity to plop down on the snowy ground. I was exhausted and starving. The rocky ravine offered protection while the open valley was not easily accessible. There was an overwhelming sense of peace to the land.
Not a bad spot.
The remaining herd came into the valley as people cheered, greeting them with welcome arms. The buffalo shifted, turning from their animal forms into their human ones. And not a one of them had a stitch of clothing.
I looked at the people. Not just looking at the nudity, but at them as whole. They were smiling. They were laughing. There was a general sense of happiness to the small community. Most, but not all, of the community seemed to be of Native American descent. I could see people of many ethnic backgrounds. Whoever these people were, I could tell they weren’t “evil.”
Another herd of buffalo, smaller than the first, came rumbling in as well. They were outfitted with rigging and harnesses designed to carry supplies. They took turns transforming back into human form, helping one another unload their burden. It looked like they were carrying large chunks of wrapped meat and skins.
The rope round my neck was tugged hard, jerking my head. “Up.”
The female buffalo Native American woman, now dressed in a warm robe made of Abomination skin, had cut the rope to the Outrider and pulled hard on my leash. Instead of obeying I remained on the ground, locking my eyes with hers.
“Get up.”
“Fnnk yun,” I said though the gag.
“Get up,” the woman demanded, and again I refused.
My little show gathered attention. A large man wearing only a pair of homemade leather pants and shoes walked up to stand beside the woman.
“Macha, do you need some help?”
“No Akecheta, I don’t. Help the others,” the woman said while she sneered at me.
What can I say? I have that effect on women. And men. Come to think of it, most people. Hmm . . . could I be the asshole and the rest of the world was normal? Nah.
“I said ‘up’,” Macha repeated.
“Nn I snd ‘fnnk yun’,” I said through the gag.
“Salem, just do what they want,” TJ said. “Other than her, I think these people are cool.”
TJ picked up on the same thing I did. I’d met a lot of people of various cultures in my time. People who smiled a lot tended to be mostly good. But what the kid didn’t have experience in was introductions.
When I first met his people, I had to make a show of myself in order to gain acceptance. A little bit of aggression mixed with benevolent temperance tended to impress the warriors and the leaders of most good-natured cultures.
As Macha tugged once more on my rope leash, I stood, popped one of the retractable blades from my tech bracer, cut my rope bindings and the leash, and removed my gag.
“There, now we can be civilized,” I smiled as I fished in my pocket for a smoke and a lighter.
Snapping the lighter shut, I felt a little surge of cocksure pride. No doubt the gathered people would be impressed with my little display and general restraint.
Looking up, I saw that every gathered person, including the children, had a gun pointed at my head.
Oh. Snap. “Man, y’all really don’t like cigarettes, do you?”
The gathered crowd said nothing in return. The weapons ranged from makeshift one-shot zip-guns to standard assault plasma weapons. The tension was high and eerily quiet. If something went sideways, I was going to end up on the receiving end of a shit-storm.
TJ hopped from the front seat of the Outrider and stood on the hood. He began yelling something in a language I didn’t recognize. The people did not react. TJ shook his head and began gesturing oddly with his hands, as if he was trying to remember something.
