Piercing the Veil: A Supernatural Occult Thriller

by Guy Riessen

  The gunship swung up sharply, then down over a ridge. Derrick’s feet left the deck as he swung free, his hands wrapped in the overhead-webbing. Sarah and Mary, belted into the seats on the sides, leaned right with the force. Then the Raven banked right, and black smoke blew in through the open door. The fifty-caliber machine gun began its staccato thunder as Howard sighted down at something beyond Derrick’s field of view.

  The chopper pulled into a sharp, high bank to the right, they all grunted with the sudden change of force and the billows of smoke cleared just enough for the horror in the pit to swim into view.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  THE GROUND SWUNG UP and filled the view outside the open door. Howard stood, legs bent, sighting down the barrel of the machine gun. He fired four- to six-round bursts, the spent brass tumbled down the guide to fall below the helicopter.

  Oily black smoke poured upwards from what looked like a pile of burning tires and flaming torches that surrounded a pit carved from the earth behind a white two-story house. The pit looked to be more than fifteen meters across with edges that were muddy and slick with water pouring from a punctured water tank on the north side. There were several human bodies scattered along the edges of the pit. Blood and water pooled around the bodies and drained in red eddies into the deep hole.

  A set of high school football field bleachers sat on the other side of the pit. Several humans slumped in pools of red on the aluminum benches. An earthen ramp wound halfway around and into the pit before disappearing into an indistinct bottom.

  Gray creatures were climbing fast up the walls of the pit, their shoulders stooped, and their backs hunched. Their long arms reached clawed hands that dug deep into the earthen walls to pull themselves up and over the edge. Their heads were low and flat, with small ears that tilted back as if they perpetually faced into a hurricane wind. They ran in a low stance, with wide-clawed feet that churned the water and blood-soaked ground.

  Howard fired a burst that ripped through one creature. The first bullet tore a ragged fist-sized hole through the creature’s center of mass, and the next three rounds separated the torso from the legs completely. Blood and viscera erupted from the torn halves of the body. The gray creature’s mouth opened wide in a scream that couldn’t be heard over the drowning roar of the rotors, and its arms continued to pull the creature’s legless torso toward one of the human bodies.

  As Derrick watched, its clawed hand reached out and grabbed the chest of what he hoped was an already dead person. Flesh and cloth ripped as the creature dragged the human toward its gibbering tooth-filled mouth.

  The helicopter continued to swing hard right at a forty-five-degree angle to the ground. Howard squeezed off another round and the creature’s head vaporized in stringy chunks of gray skin and bits of pink and white.

  As the Raven dipped again Derrick could see down into the bottom of the pit. Or what should’ve been the bottom. Expecting dirt and mud from the water that rained into the pit, instead Derrick saw an uneven floor of writhing and mounded slime-covered rolls of flesh.

  “Aw shit! Look at that fucked-up shit,” Howard said as he let the gun rip, rounds flying out at its full rate-of-fire. Tracers streaked through the smoke and poured into the entity that boiled up from below. “Damn, boys and girls, this is going to fuck up your heads for sure. PTSD on ‘roids. Aw shit.”

  Howard’s voice was going flat and slurred, and Derrick could tell the sight of the entity was already messing with his sanity.

  Then Sarah’s commanding voice boomed across the commlink, “Keep laying fire, H. You’re on this. It’s gonna wish it never saw you.” She couldn’t see out the door from her angle, but they all knew the wide-eyed stare that locked Howard’s face.

  Howard kept leaning into the gun. The bolt racked back as the final round was yanked up through the guide and fired. Howard just kept squeezing the trigger, his knuckle white with strain.

  “Derrick?” Sarah said over the comm.

  There was a brief pause as Derrick’s mind clicked over. It was something the Psychs couldn’t understand, but insisted it was related to how his brain focused, retained, and could call up perfect information even from years ago. The same way he could recite a Mythos spell with few apparent ill effects—spells that could drive a normal mind insane. But to Derrick, it felt more like a switch flipped, and while he saw the horrors, they were routed to some part of his brain that stored the concepts before he could think about the impossibility of what he saw.

  “On it, Sarah,” Derrick said. Using his arms to move hand-over-hand along the webbing to the side nearest the gun. He lowered himself and grabbed a safety line, clipping it to his shoulder harness. Derrick slid along the floor over to the swing-arm at the base of the gun. He slapped Howard’s thigh.

  “Hey buddy! Gotta reload!” Derrick said loudly.

  Howard shook his head and looked down at Derrick who was busy unhooking one of the ammo cans from the pintle base. Derrick held the can up—dang they’re heavy! Must be fifty pounds!

  Howard stared blankly for a moment, then shook his head and his eyes seemed to come back into focus as he saw his friend. He said, “Cool beans, D.”

  Howard’s fully dilated pupils shrank down to normal and Derrick said, “You got this, H. Don’t ‘see’ the mofo, you just gotta concentrate on the holes you’re filling with lead. Got it, H? Yeah?”

  “Hells yeah!” Howard shouted, pumping his fist.

  “Mofo?” Mary said, grunting through another sharp bank.

  Howard tossed the old ammo can out the open door and set up the new one. He pulled back the rack and shouted, “Clear!”

  Derrick scooted back from the edge of the open door. He watched as another four hundred rounds poured out in bursts from the machine gun, blowing apart gray creatures and littering the glistening mass in the pit with shattered bits of its own torn flesh.

  The pilot came over the commlink, “Sweeps are all down. I’m making one more pass for you, Gunner, then I’ll set you down over on the north side of the house.”

  “At your mark, Pilot,” Howard said.

  The Raven swung around the pit once more, Howard finished off the next four hundred rounds, loaded another can, and picked off several gray creatures as the helicopter leveled out and sank rapidly toward the ground.

  “Man, we should have zip lines! Special Ops style!”

  “Jeez, Derrick, get a little adrenaline in you, and your poor leg just gets forgotten,” Sarah said.

  “Oh yeah, maybe not. Here we go, full-on walking carefully down the ramp-style!”

  A line of flashing lights lit up overhead and a buzzer went off, loud enough to be heard even wearing the headsets. The ramp at the back of the Raven started to open. When it was nearly horizontal, the helicopter thudded hard into the ground, the wheels and heavy shocks of the landing gear rocked with the impact. Howard’s feet flew out from under him and the safety line caught his weight as he toppled out the open door held only by the safety line and his harness.

  “Whoa, shit!” Howard yelled.

  Derrick bounced on the floor, feeling the jolt of the landing straight through his spine. His head smacked back against the corrugated steel wall, but the headphone-padding took most of the impact. “Hang tight,” he heard Sarah say, but her voiced was crackled with static.

  Derrick felt hands lift him up, and he grabbed the overhead-webbing. Sarah handed him his cane and slapped his butt. It seemed crazy, but he actually blushed. Sarah was moving toward the cockpit door when the helicopter lurched to the left then sharply forward.

  “Pilot?” Sarah shouted into the headset.

  There was no response. The Raven tipped further left and with a roaring, shattering sound, the rotors tipped down and struck the ground. As the view out the open gun door showed more sky than ground, and the horizon dipped, Derrick saw black chunks of the rotor blades and dirt arcing through the air outside.

  Sarah wrapped her right hand into the webbing by the door to keep herse
lf upright, then turned the lock with her left. Then, hanging from the webbing, she drew her service pistol left-handed. The door slammed open with gravity as the helicopter tilted further. Derrick reached up to grab more webbing, wrapping his hands through it. Looking through the open door, he could see the pilot’s seat. The pilot’s right arm was flung wide and a gray creature squatted on top of the pilot’s thighs.

  The creature’s eyes were bloodshot. No, not bloodshot ... blood, black blood, was pouring from where the creature’s eyes should’ve been. Black, empty sockets, dripping dark viscous fluid turned toward Derrick and Sarah, and the creature opened its mouth impossibly wide. Jagged yellow teeth bit down and the pilot’s head vanished.

  The creature reared back, and blood spouted up from the pilot’s headless neck. Outside the shattered front windscreen, the ground was tilting ever father up to fill the view. Sarah’s left arm snapped up, and she fired three quick shots. Three holes appeared in the creature’s neck and face, and its body fell back through the shattered glass onto the ground outside. The engines whined louder as the blades broke free and the axle spun up to its maximum rate.

  The body of the Raven was thrown sideways as the engine-torque spun the aircraft horizontally. Derrick pulled himself close to the ceiling webbing as the craft twisted all the way around until the floor was above him. Howard held tight to the gun as it slammed into the dirt and the swing arm bent back into the helicopter. Mary’s head snapped left then right as the seat harness held, and she was suddenly hanging upside down with the ceiling below her.

  Derrick’s wide grip on the webbing held but he screamed as his thigh smashed into the roof as the ceiling became the floor.

  “Fuel leak!” Howard shouted as the craft still rocked. The engine drilled the axle further into the dirt.

  Derrick looked back and could see the clear pinkish fluid spraying near the crumpled GAU-21 and the open door.

  Howard stood unsteadily, resting for a moment with his hands on his knees, then moved forward. He found three go-bags wedged into the corners near the conduit that ran along the ceiling.

  Sarah moved back to Howard. “Get Mary down. I’m on bags and Derrick. We’ve got open flame, so,” she said, inclining her head toward the spewing aviation fuel, “we need to move quick.” She slapped Howard on the shoulder and trotted past him.

  Mary was conscious but groggy and Howard raised his hands up to her shoulders. “Mary? You with us?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We need to evacuate the craft. We’re inverted, so you need to pull up with your knees. Hook them under the seat, then unclip your harness.”

  Mary’s eyes went wider as she looked around and realized what was happening, then she nodded. She hooked her legs around the metal supports under the folding seat. Howard helped by pushing her shoulders up and taking the weight off the shoulder belts. “You got it, Mary ... now just release the buckle.”

  Mary grunted and pulled at the buckle. It snapped open and her butt cleared the seat, then she caught her weight with her legs. “Y’got me, Howard?” she shouted.

  “You know it, girl!”

  She released her legs and Howard guided her shoulders, allowing her weight to rotate around so she came down feet-first.

  Sarah moved back toward the front of the craft with their go-bags. She plucked Derrick’s cane from where it had wedged between the seats opposite of Mary. Derrick was moaning by the door to the cockpit. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

  Sarah said gently, her voice crackling across the headsets, “Hey, Derrick, we gotta, uh, jet, man.”

  It had the effect she was looking for and his moan turned into a coughing-laugh that ended with a moan. She continued, “Once we’re clear, we’ll set you up with a morphine autoject, if you need it. Grab my shoulder.”

  Derrick unwound his left hand from the webbing and reached for Sarah.

  “That’s it. Get that right hand out now. Uhm ... right-on? Buddy?” she said.

  She wrapped her hand through the carry straps of the three bags, then slipped her other arm around Derrick. “You got it,” she said as she lifted him and the bags. “Grab your cane.”

  Derrick took the cane, and together they stepped through the upside-down cockpit door. He was still moaning low in his throat. Glass from the windscreen, switches, and various dials crunched underfoot. They ducked low and went through the same broken hole the gray creature had come through. Black smoke billowed and blew along the ground. Howard and Mary came out coughing behind them.

  “Let’s move before that bird really lights up,” Howard said.

  Sarah said, “Careful, I don’t know exactly where the pit is since we spun a few times. We’ve got hostile gray M.E.s. One took out our pilot.” Howard nodded, and Sarah started walking to the left, carrying Derrick and the three bags.

  Derrick looked over at Sarah’s soot-smudged face, coughed a couple times, then said, “Lookin’ good girl, you been working out?”

  “Ha! Glad to hear you’re back with us, D.”

  The thickest smoke blew clear and they could see several cars parked haphazardly a few meters ahead.

  As Sarah looked left, a bloodied gray claw swept out, striking the side of her head with a wet smack. Sarah’s face whipped right, and Derrick saw blood spatter out and spray across his face as the momentum spun her body free of Derrick’s.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  DERRICK CRUMPLED UNDER his own weight, and Howard scooped him up from behind.

  “Sarah!” Derrick screamed as Sarah tumbled into the mud.

  Mary rushed up and tucked herself under Derrick’s arm, opposite Howard.

  Sarah landed hard on her back and the gray creature leaped toward her. The back of its head was a ragged mess of gelatinous slop with sharp white bone jutting through torn gray skin. Its neck was pierced with a fist-sized exit wound and Derrick could see through to the entry. Black blood pumped out of the wounds slicking the back and arms of the creature with gore.

  Sarah rolled from under the creature’s trajectory and with a powerful kick-up, landed facing it. She reached for her pistol, but the holster was empty. She yanked two knives from her thigh sheaths as the thing’s head rotated toward her. Derrick could see the bloody beige spinal column twist within the exposed flesh.

  Dark blood bubbled out from the hole in the thing’s neck.

  Sarah ducked under its arm as it swung again, and she jammed one knife blade to the hilt, up into the creature’s exposed arm pit. Air hissed from the gunshot hole in its neck, spraying blood. Its arm dropped, useless, the tendons severed. It stumbled backward, its momentum yanking the knife from Sarah’s grasp.

  She tossed the other knife to her right hand and circled.

  Mary half-dragged Derrick over to a rusted white El Camino, and they leaned against the front fender. Howard was moving around behind Sarah. He drew his service pistol and dropped the magazine from the grip. He cleared the chamber and dug into one of his pockets, pulling out another magazine painted with a red stripe.

  The creature lowered its head, its skull flopping forward a little too far without all its neck muscles to support it, then it charged.

  Sarah moved a half-step to the left and spun with the creature, her leg swinging high and around as the creature passed. Her heel chopped down hard into the exposed spine at the base of the creature’s skull and it stumbled forward off balance. It smashed into the cross frame of the Raven’s windscreen.

  “Drop!” Howard’s voice boomed.

  Sarah fell flat on her belly with an “oomph!”

  Howard’s pistol boomed three times.

  Massive overweight bullets struck the creature, one at each shoulder. Gristle and bone spewed as its arms spun free of the creature’s torso and into the helicopter’s inverted cockpit. Howard’s aim precisely predicted the thing’s motion as its body was twisted first right then left. The third bullet struck the base of its neck, shattering the spine into shards that tore the remaining flesh off its neck, and its h
ead tumbled free. The creature’s body collapsed. Still grasping, the arms were wrenching and twitching inside the cockpit. Its eye sockets poured black blood onto broken gauges and dials of what had been part of the cockpit’s control panel. The headless and armless gray legs and torso convulsed side to side, with no way to lever itself upright.

  Sarah stood up, wiping her blood from her nose and mouth. “Hey, you see where my knife went?”

  Howard shrugged and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, grabbing two of the go-bags and walking over to Mary and Derrick.

  Sarah grabbed the last bag that lay flopped over in the dirt and joined them by the El Camino. “You guys OK?” she asked.

  “Yeah, peachy,” Derrick said, wiping Sarah’s blood from his face with the back of his hand.

  “I’m good, Chief,” Mary said.

  Sarah dug in one of the pockets on her shoulder harness, “Oh crap. That’s right, you’ve got our earpieces, Derrick?”

  Derrick dug in his own pocket, fishing out four envelopes. “Yeah, man. Right here. New and improved.”

  They all tore open the envelopes and put their earpieces in as Derrick continued, “They work the same—microphone picks up vibrations along your mandibular and temporal bones, but now it’ll seal your ear canal and pick up inverted pressure differentials in your eustachian tubes.”

  “Uh, what?” Howard asked.

  “If you whisper, even soundlessly, it’ll pick that up and amplify it as well—it literally ‘hears’ the passage of the air in your throat.”

  “Nice,” Sarah whispered. Everyone heard her and nodded.

  Derrick caught himself about to overexplain the over-decibel sound-dampening and stopped.

  Howard opened his own bag and pulled out a 9mm pistol and handed it grip-first to Sarah. “Not the same as yours, but it’ll have to do,” he said, nodding toward the inverted helicopter.

  He dug into the bag again and pulled out magazines for their pistols one by one, each with a red stripe painted on it. “These are heavy and scored to expand like a hollow-point, but without giving up the raw stopping power of mass.” Howard tilted his head toward the armless, headless corpse. “Looks like you’ll want to take out arms, legs, or head or else they just keep on coming.”