The Scourge

by R. Tilden Smith

  Ray could feel the fear gurgling in the pit of his stomach. Time to go, time to get the fuck out of Dodge. He turned to run but suddenly he could barely move. His legs felt like spaghetti. No! Not now! Come on Ray, hold it together! Holding onto the railing, he took a step in retreat. I need to get off this gangway, get to the exit! Stay focused! Before he could gather the willpower to take another step, there was a faint, high pitched squeal layered over the loud splashing of the creatures in the tanks. The source of it was behind him, at the opposite end of the room. The noise was growing in volume and pitch. Ray couldn’t figure out if that was because the source of the noise was getting closer. Don’t do it Ray! Don’t look back! Just keep moving. He took another step. The noise was getting louder and more shrill. Ray was having trouble concentrating. He took another couple of steps. He could see the four metal stairs. Come on...we can make it...don’t look back...get down those steps! The sound had grown so loud that his temples throbbed in pain. It felt like his head was going to explode. He cupped his hands over his ears, trying in vain to muffle noise that threatened to split his skull in two.

  “Stop! Stop! Stop! I can’t...I can’t…”

  He collapsed to his knees. Every one of his nerve endings were on fire. He felt like his whole body was being dipped in acid. He tried to get to his feet. Get up...get up before one of those things eats you alive!

  Suddenly, the gangway trembled, then began to sway. Ray looked over his shoulder and couldn’t believe what he saw.

  It was a monstrous alien creature. At least seven feet tall, its head was like that of an insect with bulbous black eyes, antennae, and mandibles that looked like giant sickles. It stood upright on stalk-like legs that looked identical to the other four appendages hanging off either side of its segmented exoskeleton.

  The queen! Ray mouthed...

  ...then the alien, and everything else in the room, melted.

  The room fell in on itself. The walls, windows, gangway, and even the tanks collapsed on one another like an elaborate house of cards. The gangway crumpled and dropped away, sucked into a whirling black vortex.

  Ray’s body hung in space for a split second, motionless, suspended in the nothingness.

  And then he was falling.

  63

  Moji’s hands sliced through the air in front of her, hitting nothing. “No!” she bellowed, aimlessly spinning and flailing in the dark. The air around her was hot, thick. She felt dizzy. “Where are you! Show yourself, you bastard! Show yourself so I can...so I…”

  She fell to her knees, exhausted.

  A cold light brightened the spaces between her fingers. She pulled her face out of her hand and realized she was in an enclosed space, a room of some sort. Her crying had made the world a blur of shapes and shadows. She wiped her tears and tried to blink the light out of her eyes.

  “My queen was right about you. You ain’t nothing but a hoe.”

  Darryl…? The thought didn't have much of chance to register in Moji's mind before a hand clamped around her throat and jerked her to her feet. Her eyes bulged and snapped into focus as her hands wrapped around a thick, muscular forearm.

  It was Darryl.

  “Darryl…. stop!” she squeaked. “ You're...killing...me!”

  Darryl pushed the back of her head into the floor then bent down so that his face almost touched hers. “How did you ever think I would ever love a pathetic hoe like you?”

  Moji scratched and clawed at Darryl's arm, her long nails shredding it down to white meat and bone. Blood poured from the loose ribbons of skin and muscle, pooling around Moji's face and neck, drenching Darryl's hand. But his grip on her throat didn't falter. “Dar...ryl! she gasped, unable to take a breath.

  Darryl slid his other hand between Moji's legs, cupping the crotch of her panties. His lips peeled back in a sick, devilish smile. Small, shark-like teeth filled his mouth. “You’re just another nasty ass bitch, trying to play a brother with that virginity bullshit. Now we know, the whole world knows, you ain't never been a virgin. You been a hoe your whole life. Darryl Strickland gonna show you how he tames a nasty hoe...”

  He ripped the panties from her body. The fabric cut into her like a saw blade, slicing deep trenches into her waist and buttocks. Moji’s mind was swimming with so much pain that she didn’t notice the break when it came. It washed over her, severing the link between her consciousness and her body. But instead of freedom, instead of peace, Moji was carried away and cast into a reservoir of fire. She was being crushed by a countless multitude of bodies, all crying out for relief from their torment, for redemption of their souls. And her cries were among them, pleading for death, for mercy, for salvation.

  [My Angel! Listen to your Willie Mae! You must surrender to the transition so you can be set free.]

  Help me! Moji begged, Make him stop!

  [Oh my poor child! I can’t wrassle with the queen, she too powerful! But you can do it! Remember what I told you—follow your love.]

  Follow your love. The words triggered memories that filled her entire being, and for an instant, her pain was pushed aside, displaced by a raw and powerful presence.

  And then she saw it. The Light. A pinpoint at first, it pulsed then grew, expanding exponentially, reaching out to her, beckoning her soul to come forward.

  Oh god! she cried, squeezing her eyes shut to the blinding light.

  [Surrender, my angel, seek the Light and Willie Mae promises you will defeat that demon!]

  The Light enveloped her and Moji's pain vanished. In its place were long forgotten memories, bound in her mind like a dusty old tome filled with thousands of dog-eared pages of revelation, waiting to be re-lived She shivered with trepidation, for she knew the scope of what lay before her. It was the tome of her life. She didn't want to look at it.

  [Go ahead child, now is not the time to be hesitatin’ or scared. You gonna have to deal wit it one way or another. That she-devil gonna make sure of it!]

  I know.

  She was only eight when it started. So innocent it seemed then. It was just a game her daddy used to tell her, a special game just for her and her daddy to play. Not even mommy can know about it, he said. It was to be their secret. At first, he only asked her to play dress up. Wear your prettiest dress, he would say, and I'll put on my best suit, and we'll play hide and seek! When I find you, you have to let me give you a big hug! Ok daddy! she would say. Such an odd thing for a daddy to want to do with his daughter, she thought, but she was so happy for the attention that the initial awkwardness she felt quickly faded, and it wasn't long before she began to look forward to their secret after school game. But soon, the game grew more intimate. Hugging led to kissing, which led to touching, which led to…

  (Stop it Moji! Daddy loved you! He loved both of us!)

  No Lara, I realize it now. What daddy did to you—to us—wasn’t out of love.

  Moji begged her father to stop, but he had become sick with it; an addict who would go to any length to get his fix, even threatening her life and that of her mother if she spoke to anyone about their relationship. To survive, she created Lara. Lara would bear the brunt of the encounters with her father while Moji crawled away into a dark corner of her mind to hide. The sudden death of her father tore Moji’s psyche in two—she became two distinct personalities; the little girl who longed to please her father and the woman who lacked the empathy to truly trust or love anyone. The hurt and abuse she endured burned like a hot coal in place of her heart.

  [For you to be whole, you must allow your heart to heal. The queen and her demons prey on the weak and the wicked. Your duality spared you eternal damnation, but you cannot defeat her without cleansing yourself of the past and being born anew.]

  (Mo, I'm not sure I understand everything but I think the bad thing inside of me—inside of us—I think it wants to...save us, all of us.)

  Yes Lara, I think you’re right.

  [Angel, are you ready to cross over, to transition into a new being?]

  Yes
, I am.

  (Miss Willie Mae?)

  [Yes child?]

  (Will I be reborn too?)

  [My angel, your gift will be the greatest of all…]

  The light faded.

  Air hissed in through Moji's nostrils as Darryl's hand moved from her throat to her lower jaw.

  “Wake up! You ain't dead yet bitch! Open that pretty mouth so you can feel how Darryl Strickland treats a no-good hoe.”

  Moji was staring into the blood red eyes of a demon. Darryl's mouth was open, a black serpent coated in a thick, cloudy mucus, whipped back and forth across his lips, skittering over jagged teeth. His talons ripped through her cheeks and wrapped around her jaw, breaking her teeth and puncturing her tongue.

  “Open wide bitch,” the demon barked.

  I...don't...have...much….time...left. Despite the pain that racked every pore of her being, Moji cast the net of her mind’s eye wide, in search of a cohort that would heed her call.

  There! she had found them. She signaled them to their purpose, a warrior's call to arms, to protect their queen and ensure the future of their kind.

  [...Tyson!]

  64

  Ray tumbled as he fell through a black, featureless void. He screamed until his lungs burned but he heard no sound. The air around him was hot. His eyeballs felt like they were being doused with a sandblaster. He landed roughly, flat on his back, the blow knocking the air from his lungs. Ray’s mind roiled with fear and confusion. He coughed and drew in a sharp sip of air; it tasted foul, like rotting fish.

  “Obama, I hear your chickenshit ass under that table! Come on out before I come and get ‘cha!”

  That was Terp's voice, Ray thought. But it can't be! He’s dead! He sat up slowly and coughed again. He could taste blood at the back of his throat; one of his ribs felt broken. But his fear refused to let him dwell on the physical pain. You’re just hearing shit! he thought, trying to reassure himself and quell his rising panic. That can't be Terp because Terp is dead, I saw him die. He took another breath, a deep one, and held it for three beats, trying to slow the fear coursing through his veins like an uncut opioid. It was mostly dark, except for the cold blue-white glow of a halogen light trickling in from somewhere to his left. That smell, the light. I’ve been here before...Ray was unable to shake the intense feeling of déjà vu. It lingered, toying with him, keeping its truth just out of reach...until there was movement in his peripheral vision, and suddenly a hand was around his throat.

  Then his brain snapped everything back into place. He was back at the restaurant, place where he, Terp, and Spuds tried to steal the money.

  “Come on out here so I can take a look at 'cha!” he heard Terp say.

  He was dragged to his feet then lifted off the floor until only the tips of his shoes touched the ground. Terp held him at arm's length, admiring him like a first place trophy. Ray felt as if his head was going to separate from his body and there was a pop-pop-pop sound as the ligaments in his neck and back were suddenly stretched to their limit. Terp's grip tightened around his throat. Ray felt muscles in his neck snap. Terp chuckled and a grotesque grin crisscrossed his face, his lips intersecting his teeth at almost a forty-five degree angle. “You left me to die Obama. Why would you do such a thing, after all I did for you?”

  Ray couldn't breathe, he couldn't talk. His body began to buck and convulse from a lack of oxygen. He punched at Terp's face and arm, trying in vain to make Terp let him go.

  “It was that bitch Moji wasn't it? She put you up to it, didn't she? She waved her pretty little snatch in your face and your weak ass started strutting around like a bull in rut!”

  Something touched Ray’s leg.

  “Well, guess what Obama? I got something that will make you forget all about that bitch. Take a look. Go ahead, take a gander at it.”

  Ray was still punching wildly, but weakly, at Terp's arm. He was near unconsciousness, but he saw, in the bottom of his peripheral vision, what Terp wanted him to see.

  It was one of those snake creatures.

  It was hanging from Terp's bloodied crotch, swinging back and forth, slamming its head against Terp's shins and gnashing its circular mouth of razor-like teeth open and shut like a camera shutter.

  “I'm gonna shove this little darling so far up your ass that you, Moji, and that little bitch Lara will be begging for mercy. You hear me Obama? All three of your minds will soon be mine!”

  Ray’s arms had dropped by his sides, too weak to fight. His limbs twitched and spasmed uncontrollably. His mind, in a last ditch effort to protect his sanity, fought to disconnect him from his senses. Ray could no longer feel the pain of his injuries or see the face of his tormentor. But he could still hear. And while the boasting of the monster that squeezed the life from his body frightened him, he was comforted by the knowledge that he wouldn't feel or see the end when it came. I will die in peace, he thought.

  Then he heard the voice of an angel.

  [Ray!] the angel said. [Take my hand! Ray, take my hand and don't let go!]

  Ray reached out, searching. Angel! he pleaded. I can't find you! I'm blind! Help me!

  [Ray please, listen to me! Follow my voice, take my hand!]

  Ray listened, and he heard another sound. A soft tap-tap-tap against the concrete floor.

  “No!” he heard Terp scream, “you can't be here!”

  Ray reached out and found the angel’s hand.

  And he was lifted up.

  65

  “Ray!” Moji said as she woke, her arms extended, reaching toward the ceiling. But Ray was not there. She was alone. She coughed and sat up. What happened? she thought, as she looked around. She was still in the lobby of Terp’s apartment building. Outside, a gray-black fog hung over the esplanade, it pressed against the glass doors of the lobby, smearing the view into a charcoal-tinted watercolor. “Ray?” she asked into the dead quiet air. “Baby, where are you?” She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind, when something moved on the other side of the lobby doors. A gray, irregular-shaped shadow appeared near the bottom of the door and began to bob up and down. As Moji watched, it quickly grew larger, darker, and more defined. She scrambled to her feet and backed away, ready to run. “Ray, is that you?” The shadow elongated, then grew ears, legs, and a tail.

  It was a dog. It pressed its nose against the glass and barked.

  “Tyson?” Moji said absentmindedly as she stepped toward the door for a closer look. The dog spotted her, its head tracking her movement as she tiptoed toward the door. Wary of the animal’s intentions, Moji hesitated.

  The dog barked again, just once, never taking its eyes off of her.

  She was close enough to see the dog’s markings. “You're not Tyson, but I...I know you.” She felt odd. Her thoughts and movements slowed, like her whole world had turned to molasses. Her fear of the dog vanished. She reached the door and opened it. The dog, a sad-looking Labrador with dark, soulless eyes, took several steps away from the door, staying just out of her reach. “Hello doggie,” she said, with little warmth in her voice. She took a breath. The air was thick with the smell of burned oil and gasoline. The fog was not fog but smoke. The dog had moved several more feet away from her, toward the street. It looked back at her and barked again. Moji sensed an urgency in the animal's behavior. What are you trying to tell me doggie? She looked up through the haze and was startled to see the horizon was on fire, hungry flames were licking the blue from the sky, coating the heavens in burnt orange and black smoke.

  The dog barked again. This time she understood.

  “Oh my god!” she breathed. “Ray!” Her heart tightened in her chest.

  The dog stood motionless, panting quietly as Moji broke into a run.

  “Take me to him!” she screamed at the dog, waving her arms to shoo it into motion.

  The dog, only momentarily confused by Moji’s gesture, took off running, zig-zagging down a street perpendicular to the esplanade, only slowing down long enough to keep Moji in its line
of sight.

  “Keep going!” she said breathlessly as she lumbered after the dog, “Don’t stop for me. I can keep up!” Her lungs burned as she ran. She didn't know if she could keep pace with the dog, but something inside her compelled her to keep running. I have to reach him before it's too late, she thought.

  Military jets screamed overhead, firing missiles at the ground only blocks from where she stood. A realization washed over her. They're burning everything, killing everyone. The street she was on came to an end, intersecting with another that ran perpendicular to it. On the other side of that street, beyond a large expanse of parked cars, was the waste treatment plant complex.

  It was on fire.

  Blue-green flames, tinged with bits of yellow and red, roared like jet engines from dozens of broken pipes protruding from the plant’s concrete foundation. Dear God! Moji thought, please let me get to him in time! She ran across the street and into the parking lot, weaving through a sea of parked and abandoned vehicles. A tall chain-link fence, topped with coils of razor wire, divided the parking lot from the plant proper. Moji spied the Labrador. It was already on the other side of the fence, dodging the flames and jumping over the maze of pipes and valves that dotted the plant perimeter. It made its way to the partially open door of a large brick building. It turned, looked at her once more, then ducked inside, disappearing from view.

  Ray is in there! Moji thought. I have to get to him. I have to find him before...they do. She bent over, hands on knees, taking noisy, quick breaths through her nose, trying to ease the pain that pulsed across her ribcage. She wiped the snot from her upper lip with the hem of her shirt, then scanned the fence line. Ok girl, you need to get on the other side of this fence. How’d the dog get over there so fast? She saw the answer to her question about six feet from where she stood: behind an evergreen thicket, someone had cut a small triangular hole in the bottom of the fence. Unfortunately, the hole was much too small for her to fit through. She stepped back to survey the fence again. Come on Moji, you can figure this out! Some of the plant employees must have parked in this lot. How did they get in? Then she saw it; a rusted pedestrian gate about one hundred yards to her left. She jogged along the fence line, heading toward the gate, picking up speed as she went. I have to hurry, I don't have much time! And before she could stop it, another thought surfaced. Ray's dying. She shook the thought from her head. No! I refuse to believe that! I'm going to find him and he's going to be ok...he has to be.