37 Days In A Strange World

by Dave Hazel

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  War cries and occasional screams of pain and yells of fear rang out. The Crazies kept their distance from the odd metal creatures that spat out humans with powerful magic weapons.

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  Roy killed fourteen with eighteen shots he fired from his Remington. The old man grew angry with himself for not being more accurate. He had been a much better marksman when in the Marine Corps, fifteen years ago.

  Roy Jr. killed twenty-four with twenty-four shots fired from the Winchester M-94. He stood beside Mykal near the LTD and switched weapons to start killing with the shotgun. Randy had killed thirteen with eighteen shots he fired from the Savage 99.

  Randy stood on the driver’s side of the Suburban close to Kurt. After his last six rounds fired he moved to the rear of the vehicle to reload. While re-loading the rifle, a wounded Crazy rose from the ground behind him. Blood flowed from the entry and exit wounds of his back and belly. Randy shot him with the Savage 99 before the vehicles stopped. The round went straight through him knocking him unconscious. Ironically, the savage unwittingly attacked the one who inflicted his injuries.

  Randy took a crushing blow to his back and shoulder from a large tree limb like club. Luckily for Randy the Crazy didn’t have a sword or an axe. The force of the blow sent him flying into the rear door of the Suburban, knocking the rifle from his hands. The Thompson slipped from his shoulder when he hit the grass. With a yelp he instinctively reached for his favorite cowboy hat first. Fortunately he escaped a second clubbing.

  Roy Jr. and Mykal both turned to the sound of Randy’s distress. The Crazy charged them when they turned. Randy struggled to get off the grass, but he was grateful the savage didn’t try to crush his head into the ground.

  The bleeding savage raised the club over his head to strike Roy Jr. The madness etched in the wild man’s face looked bizarre in a frightful way. Roy Jr. and Mykal had a split second to look into the wild eyes of the dirty, bearded, blood thirsty warrior.

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  The Crazy smirked triumphantly when he gazed at the weapon pointed at him. It had no point or sharp blade to it. It had a large hole in the metal club.

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  Roy Jr. leveled the shotgun to the over confident crazy man’s face. With slight pressure on the trigger came a sudden burst of flame and a loud explosion. The wild man’s face and head blew apart. He never knew what hit him.

  Within just a few minutes after inserting themselves into the battle more than half of the Crazies lay dead, wounded or a majority fled from the fight. “Hold your fire,” Mykal yelled as he loaded another magazine. Those fleeing created a chain reaction for others to bolt. “Look at them bastards go,” he laughed out, amazed that they frightened off such a large number of bad guys with just a handful of rifles.

  Mykal saw the boat people along the edge of the water fighting hand to hand. Most battled one on one. Where the melees were unfair the Crazies had the numbers advantage. His eyes caught sight of a man outnumbered five to one, but the man himself caught Mykal’s attention. The man had to be over eight feet tall. Mykal took a double take.

  The giant swung a large two handed sword with one hand. The sword measured more than six feet long. In his other hand was a large shield to block the attacks of his foes. His great size made it appear as if he fought against children.

  The bare chested titan displayed a muscular frame of the likes Mykal had never seen before. He couldn’t think of any body builders or professional athletes that compared to this muscular goliath. This giant dwarfed the Incredible Hulk TV character. The quick motion of the giant’s movements and the distance between them didn’t hide the strong definition of his form.

  Mykal looked in all directions to be sure the Crazies dispersed before he moved toward the smaller area of the battlefield. Bodies littered the ground around the large man. Most had limbs or heads hacked off. Two bodies had been halved. The five continued trying to score a lucky blow but the giant fended them off with his shield and the mighty swing of his sword that seemed to give a blue glow.

  Mykal felt confident he could convince the giant and his people that he came as friendly help and not as a threat. Hopefully they would return the favor. His weapons were ready in case the giant didn’t appreciate his help.

  With the mighty arc of the giant’s swing the five Crazies jumped back out of the way. It seemed like a choreographed dance to the music of the massive steel slicing through the air. If the blade had connected, the hapless Crazy would be added to those who littered the ground. The giant swung with bad intentions.

  The yells and threats of the Crazies didn’t impress or intimidate the colossal man. He seemed determined to kill them if they would not flee. After completing each swing the five would rush in and try to score a blow before the giant had time to retract the blade. With his shield he parried each assault.

  “Come on,” Mykal yelled to those coming behind him. “Let’s kill these crazy bastards. Franklin, watch our back.”

  Both Franklin and Randy stayed with the vehicle. Randy nursed the pain and bruising to the back of his shoulder. Roy drove the station wagon to Randy when he saw his son had been injured. He inspected and tended his son’s injury.

  Mykal neared the skirmish between the giant and the five Crazies. The Crazies were charging in at him for the fourth time without success. The giant busied himself parrying the Crazies and eyeing the newcomers simultaneously. He stepped back from another assault and with his eyes on the stranger he tripped over some of the bodies he had previously cut down. The giant fell backward and the Crazies reacted as if this was an opportunity of a lifetime, to be rid of the giant once and for all. They all rushed in like a pack of hyenas to a dead animal. They let out an excited shriek like that of school girls moving to touch a teen idol.

  Mykal reacted swiftly charging in with his rifle in his left hand and the .357 magnum in his right. Two of the Crazies in front of Mykal caught explosions to the back of their heads.

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  The three remaining Crazies looked stunned by the noise that killed the two. The three stopped to look at the source of the noise. They eyed the odd looking man with a funny little weapon in his hand. The evidence lay before them, two on the ground with their heads split open. It wasn’t just a funny little weapon. It held vicious power.

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  Without a word spoken all three turned on Mykal. He heard gunshots going off around him, in different directions letting him know he had to fend for himself. Fear struck, Mykal reared back. He looked into the crazed faces of the three blood thirsty madmen coming at him. Negotiations looked out of the question. Since they didn’t understand his weapon and the power he held in his hand he couldn’t just threaten them to stop.

  He steadied his pistol and pointed at them. They were big burly brutish men. He stood smaller, dressed differently and employed a weapon with no points or sharp edges. He had four rounds to stop three Crazies.

  The closest of the three attacked with a spear in both hands. Mykal squeezed the trigger blasting burning lead into the left cheek bone of the snarling, dirty, man. The wild man’s head snapped back throwing hair and some of his heavily bearded face into the air. The inside of his head erupted and the widening of his shocked eyes died before he hit the ground.

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  The two remaining Crazies looked perplexed. They heard the shocking explosion and watched their comrade’s face split apart as he crumpled to the ground. The stranger didn’t close in to strike, and the stranger’s weapon never connected. How could this be? He killed with just a point of his finger. Magic?

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  Mykal adjusted the aim of his pistol, squeezed off another deafening blast. The bullet punched a hole into the chest of the larger of the two which stopped him in his tracks as if he had been hit by a truck. His legs kicked out from under him when his forward motion stopped. He too fell over dead.

  Confidence soared, Mykal’s face allowed an evil, almost sadistic smile t
o appear. He fired his pistol again and drilled a gaping hole in the thigh of the remaining crazy. He put the lead right where he wanted it to go. He wanted the Crazy and the giant to see the kind of pain he was capable of inflicting.

  The savage dropped his sword, spun violently while doubling over to grab at the impossible pain that crushed his leg. His long dirty hair flung in all directions. He fell to the ground and couldn’t get back to his feet. His yell expressed both pain and undeniable terror. He glared at Mykal as if to say, ‘What manner of demon could do such harm with a point of his finger?’

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  The terrifying yell that emitted from his mouth surprised the giant who understood the common trait of fearlessness of his foes. The goliath held his sword ready from the ground. He tried to move off the severed limbs he had fallen on to. The giant tried not to incur the stranger’s wrath. The foreigner’s powers were extraordinary to say the least. ‘Could the stranger have been sent by the gods?’

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  Mykal watched the giant get back to his feet. They eyed each other and looked at the screaming Crazy who rocked back and forth holding his bleeding leg. Mykal moved toward the injured savage but the fearful Crazy tried to roll away from him.

  Keeping his eye on the hemorrhaging enemy he motioned for the giant to come near. If the giant looked hostile he would put the last .357 magnum round into his large head and then run.

  The giant appeared mystified and unsure what to make of Mykal’s mighty weapon. The muscular giant gripped his sword tight with his monstrous fist and cautiously stepped closer to his hand motion.

  “My name is Mykal,” he announced over the cries of the suffering Crazy. “Can you understand me?”

  “Yes, I too speak the common tongue,” the giant answered suspiciously. “You speak the common tongue quite well. I am called Towbar. I thank you deeply for saving my life. I am indebted to you,” he said while slightly bowing his head, but he never took his eyes from Mykal. His expression of incredulity focused on the strange objects Mykal held in his hands.

  The wounded savage saw the two talking and pulled a knife from his belt. He drew back to throw it. Towbar raised his sword to lob off his head, but with a squeeze of the trigger, Mykal punched a hole in the Crazy’s forehead with a loud thunder. The Crazy snapped backward so fast his hair flew forward. A thin trail of smoke rose from the hole in his forehead.

  The giant looked confused. “I do not understand how one is able to kill by just pointing and wishing the enemy dead.”

  Mykal knew Towbar had no way to know that he fired his sixth and final round in the revolver. Not taking any chances, he holstered the empty pistol and grabbed his rifle with both hands, ready to shoot. Towbar declared his gratitude, but Mykal encountered too many strange, life threatening, situations today to leave himself vulnerable.

  Mykal paused mentally. He couldn’t get over the size of Towbar. ‘A wall of human muscles,’ he thought. The giant didn’t seem to be restricted in movement as would a muscle-bound bodybuilder who over did it by piling on too many overly large muscles.

  They both turned to watch their men finish off the few of the Crazies who stayed to battle. Mykal’s men made quick work of those foolish enough to fight. The majority had already retreated.

  Towbar turned to Mykal. “I have never seen such thunder sticks. May I ask the nature of these thunder sticks?” Towbar’s deep but soft voice expressed admiration.

  “They’re not thunder sticks,” Mykal chuckled, relieved that Towbar didn’t try to attack him. “This is a rifle, and this is a pistol,” he said and patted each while looking up into his pale blue eyes. Mykal relaxed and folded his arms to cradle his rifle. He felt he could finally let his guard down a little.

  When Mykal looked closer, he realized the giant couldn’t be over eight feet tall as he originally thought. His friend Jake Irwin is 6’6” and Towbar seemed about a foot taller, though much wider. Mykal guessed Towbar to be over seven feet tall. As odd as it sounded, Towbar seemed to have shrunk a little since the fight ended. He would question Towbar about that later.

  Towbar’s visage of bewilderment produced a smile from Mykal. Towbar’s thick brown hair reached down to his broad shoulders. The thin leather headband tied around his forehead kept the hair from getting into his eyes. The giant’s flesh seemed to be pulled tightly across the bones of his face giving the impression that his smooth and weathered skin would crack if he smiled. His bronzed flesh was free of facial hair.

  The upper portion of the giant’s body looked like it was covered with muscle over muscle. Veins bulged from his biceps and rippled through his forearms. His hands were large and hard enabling powerful fists. Handmade trousers covered his lower body. The homemade pants were held up by a long piece of tied leather. His leather boots had to be at least size 40WW.

  The large circular shield he bore looked heavy and cumbersome, but the giant carried it with ease. Dried animal hides covered the shield. The leather looking material was scarred and ripped where enemy weapons struck. The edge had been trimmed with what looked to be a male lion’s mane.

  The two handed sword that Towbar used so fluidly stretched just over six feet long and at least seven inches wide. Mykal guessed the sword weighed more than twenty-five pounds. An M-60 machinegun weighed approximately twenty-six pounds. He couldn’t imagine swinging an M-60 the way Towbar swung his sword.

  “Your ship is leaving,” Mykal pointed.

  Towbar didn’t look back. “Yes, their mission is complete.”

  “Could you tell me what the hell is going on here?”

  “I do not understand your question.”

  “Where are we for starters? We got lost and when we tried to find our way home we ended up getting attacked by a bunch of these crazy people--” he said quickly and pointed to the bodies, “--then we run into you guys and you look like you’re dressed for a pirate movie but only you guys are fighting for real. What’s going on? I take it we’re no longer in North Dakota?” He stopped and realized he sounded crazy by the look Towbar gave.

  “Doo-koat-ta?” Bewilderment again. “I never heard of such a place.” He watched with caution as Mykal’s men ran toward them.

  Mykal slowed his speech. “Could you tell me where we are?”

  “You are in the land of Labins. The Finger Mountains are to the south,” he pointed opposite the water though the mountains could barely be seen. “My destination is the Finger Mountains. I must warn my people the Soso army is coming. I see I may be too late,” he gave half a frown.

  “Who the hell are the So-sos?” Mykal asked and searched his mind for the name of any country that would have people called Soso. Nothing came to mind. He saw Denny stop the others and huddled up. Knowing Denny, Denny probably wanted his people to slow down so as not to startle the giant.

  “Sosos are those who attacked us. Those who now litter the ground,” Towbar said and pointed. “They are in league with Zizmon-Tarl to invade my country,” he said and stopped as if to watch Mykal’s response while re-gripping the hilt of his sword. “Are you in league with Zizmon-Tarl?”

  “Whoa, Towbar, I don’t have the foggiest idea of what you’re talking about. All I wanna know is how do we get outta this place. We’re lost. We drove off the road and we can’t find it. Now we’re being attacked and fighting for our lives.”

  “Now it is I who do not know what you speak of.”

  “Look, you, your people and all your stuff, all these crazy people you call Sosos, you all look like you’re from another time and place. Another world even. We don’t know how we got mixed up in it, but we just want to get back to reality before any more of us get hurt or killed,” Mykal said as Denny and the others slowly joined them.

  Mykal held his hand up for Denny and the others to remain silent momentarily. Some of Towbar’s men ran to his side.

  “The rumors are true my Lord,” one of Towbar’s men spoke. “The Sosos attacked much sooner than we expected.”

  The giant nodded.
“How many did we lose?”

  “Fourteen killed, my Lord, and eight more wounded. Three of the eight wounded with Shay-lonk,” the man answered. “My Lord, I do not understand how the Sosos knew we would be arriving by ship today at this very location.”

  “I have my suspicions. We will investigate this later,” Towbar replied. “Tell the men to expect a battle at every turn. Sosos know we are here. They will not stop until we are dead. Prepare the horses to leave immediately. We must make haste.”

  “Towbar, I take it you’re the leader?” Mykal asked as the man and the others turned to carry out his orders.

  “Yes I am,” he replied and his gaze swept the country-side. “The Sosos may attack again after they regroup.”

  “Well first things first. Let me introduce you to my people. This is Denny, Boris, Kurt, Larry and Roy Jr. We have four others back there,” he pointed to the vehicles. “And one who is hurt pretty bad. Could you look at him and see if there is anything you can do for him?”

  “Yes, I will. Mykal, you saved my life. Your men saved my soldiers. My soldiers would never have been able to inflict as many casualties in such a short time. I am indebted to you, however I must hurry,” he said somberly as he looked at one of his men laid out in the swaying grass. “My people are in danger.”

  “Okay, this way,” Mykal led the giant to the station wagon.

  He wondered how to convince the giant to help them. Towbar had to know how to point them out of this strange land. “This is Roy,” Mykal introduced the giant when they walked up to the station wagon. “This is his son Randy. This is Franklin.” He snickered at the awestruck gaze on his pimpled face. Franklin looked like a three year old seeing a life size Mickey Mouse at Disneyland for the first time.

  “See what’ll happen if you eat all your vegetables.” Larry smirked at Franklin’s expression. “You grow up big and strong.”

  They all laughed but Towbar didn’t understand their humor. “What is wrong with your injured man?”

  Mykal pointed into the rear of the station wagon. “This is Baby Ray, and as you can see his leg is hurt.”