by K X Douglas
They all walked closer to the group of robed people, trying their best to act inconspicuous. Once they were within twenty feet, some members of the crowd turned to look at them.
“Can we help you?” one of them asked.
“Is Kevin Wilkinson among you?” Peter asked.
“What is your business with him?” the same person responded.
Peter drew his gun and aimed it forward.
“We’re here to kill him, in order to put a stop to your ritual,” he said. “If you stand aside and let us put a bullet in his head, we won’t hurt you.”
That probably won’t work at all, but it was worth a shot.
Several of them jumped in front of the person who was probably Kevin, as if by instinct.
Shit, are they willing to take a bullet for him? This complicates things quite a bit.
Silas ran forward and punched the man in the face, sending him reeling and almost knocking him over.
“Look, Peter, I know you’re trying to be as pacifistic as you can, but this is the end of the world we’re talking about here,” he said. “We can’t afford to cling to our principles. You might have to spill some blood.”
Silas drew his gun and aimed it into the crowd. The rest of Peter’s group followed.
“I guess you’re right,” Peter said as he holstered the gun. Looking at his hands for a moment, he saw that they weren’t shaking. He extended bony claws from the tips of his fingers.
To his surprise, many members of The Laughing Union drew handguns as well. He could almost feel his friends’ stomachs sink.
“Everyone get down!” he shouted.
Peter rushed forward and extended his arms, grasping for their guns before they could shoot. He managed to successfully grab one, and he aimed it at another person who was still armed. The claws on his fingers made it difficult for him to fit them into the trigger guard, so he instead absorbed the gun into his arm, allowing him to fire it while keeping both of his hands free.
“It’s him!” Kevin screamed. “He’s the one who tried to kill me at the hotel!”
They all scrambled to surround Peter and cut him off from his friends, but in their panic, they left themselves exposed. One of them dropped immediately after being shot in the centre mass by Silas; others were grazed by bullets that didn’t quite hit their targets.
Peter formed an eye on the back of his neck, giving him almost three hundred and sixty degrees of vision. He could see the people behind him, only a few steps away, aiming their guns at him.
I need to keep these people distracted for as long as possible so they don’t shoot anyone else.
Bullets pricked and prodded him from all directions, riddling his clothing with holes but only stinging him.
I have to put an end to this once and for all…I can’t afford to hold back now. I might have to kill these people.
He watched as Kevin drew a handgun from his pants and aimed it his way through a gap in the crowd which surrounded him. The man pulled the trigger, and Peter felt a bullet collide with his torso, leaving a hole in his hoodie.
As soon as the distinctive crack of the gun echoed across the park, people everywhere dove to the ground. There wasn’t much in the way of cover available besides the picnic table and the odd tree.
Remember what Silas told you. You have to be conscious of your target and whatever’s behind it.
He closed the distance between himself and one side of the circle with a couple of steps. Aiming at a downward angle, he fired the gun that was embedded in his arm. His accuracy left something to be desired even at point blank range, but he managed to hit his targets. Several people fell to the ground screaming as blood stained their robes.
Turning around and aiming his gun at the other side of the circle, he pulled the trigger only to hear an empty click. The gun was out of ammunition, so he extruded it from his arm and cast it on the ground. Now panicking slightly, he lashed out with his claws, swiping almost randomly at the cultists. For the most part, he only managed to tear their robes.
The gunfire continued, and some of the bullets missed Peter, going on to hit other cultists. Between that and his steady mauling, the crowd eventually thinned out as they all fell to the ground in heaps.
Peter looked around frantically for Kevin, but he had difficulty focusing due to the generally hectic atmosphere. His gaze finally rested on the man, who was in the middle of grabbing someone and restraining them on the altar.
Oh, fuck.
He broke out into a sprint towards the man, pushing people aside in an attempt to close the distance as quickly as possible.
Having successfully restrained the bystander, Kevin grabbed an athame from the altar and held it above his head in both hands, blade pointed downward. Before Peter could reach him, he plunged the blade downward, and blood splattered out in all directions.
No, no, no!
In the air above Kevin, a portal to another realm opened up. It started like a tremor which crept across the walls of reality like a crack in a car windshield before opening up and spewing forth a panoply of wrinkled hands. The creature from Peter’s visions pulled its way through the portal and landed on the soil. It fluttered its gossamer wings and let out a screech.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Peter could only gawk at the creature that had made its way through the portal.
Kevin, now splattered with the blood of a freshly-slain human, knelt down before the creature as if in reverence. It seemed as if he were about to speak when the creature flattened him beneath one of its palms.
Peter was reminded of an ant being crushed under heel. A burning sensation swept across his flesh, which began to bubble like water just under the boiling point. It took every last vestige of will he had to maintain his human form in the Old One’s presence.
“Run!” he screamed.
He turned around and, lifting one foot after the other like a weightlifter would hoist an overladen barbell, he ran. He didn’t bother to pay attention to where he was going, except that it was where the beast wasn’t.
“Peter, what are you doing?” someone screamed. In his state of terror, he could not differentiate one voice from another, and so he was left confused as to who was addressing him.
Looking around but not exactly registering the details of his surroundings, he eventually found eye contact with Silas, who was running towards him.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he grabbed Peter’s torn hoodie. “We’ve come this far, and you’re just going to run away like a little bitch? I thought we all agreed on a back-up plan in case this happened?”
Peter froze in place for a moment before swallowing. His entire body was shaking uncontrollably, but he turned to face the creature and drew his gun.
“You’re right,” he said.
“Dad’s on his way. He’s bringing the big guns. We can still win this.”
Peter approached the beast cautiously, leading with the barrel of his gun.
The creature appeared to be in the midst of getting its bearings. It stood on some of its limbs while it reached out at nearby people with others. Most of the crowd that had been gathered around the bonfire had fled as quickly as they could.
Peter advanced towards it until he estimated that he was within one hundred feet. He fired one shot, which didn’t seem to faze the creature at all.
It didn’t seem to notice that it had been shot.
Well, shit. I was hoping that a bullet would at least get its attention.
He fired two more bullets. From his current distance, he could tell that both hit, but the beast made no indication that it noticed.
How many bullets are in this one, anyways? I never really bothered to get much practice with it.
The beast began grabbing cultists, who didn’t have the sense to run for their lives, and swallowing them whole.
Peter kept firing until the gun was empty, after which he stood in place and observed the Old One, which finally paused, its attention diverted from its latest
meal.
“That’s it, give me all your attention. At least this way you won’t eat anymore people.”
Suddenly, an armoured vehicle rolled into the clearing, hi-beams turned on, MC Hammer blaring. The world “police” was emblazoned on the front bumper, but there were no alarms or flashing lights.
Tadhg was driving it straight towards the Old One. From how fast it was accelerating, he was obviously pressing the pedal as far as it would go. It barrelled on towards the beast, which was preoccupied with devouring the last of the cultists. Upon impact, it knocked the creature over. He switched the vehicle into reverse and backed away as quickly as the vehicle could, until there were at least one hundred feet between them.
Tadhg opened the door and jumped out. He was carrying what looked to be a rocket launcher.
“Everyone, get your asses over here! I’m gonna need your help!”
Peter sprinted over to the truck. When he got there, he saw that everyone else wasn’t far behind.
“Tadhg! Where the hell did you get that?”
“Bribed a cop for it. Gave him a thousand bucks and a pound of B.C. bud for him to let me borrow it for a day. Everything we need is in the back.”
They ran around to the back of the vehicle, and Tadhg swung the doors open to reveal a veritable armoury of ordnance and explosives.
“Tadhg, this is great and all, but I don’t think any of us have any idea how to use these,” Peter said.
Tadhg slapped him across the back.
“It’s a great time to learn! Just grab something at random; I can assure you that no matter what you pick, it won’t be the wrong choice. Now let’s hurry up and prevent the apocalypse.”
Everyone else caught up with Peter and gawked at the weapons that sat in the back of the truck as if they were for sale at a flea market.
Eric leaned in and grabbed a rocket launcher.
“This thing loaded?” he asked.
“Yup,” Tadhg said. “All you need to do is point and shoot. Just make sure you, uh, let people know when you’re getting ready.”
“Got it.”
One by one, they inspected the stash of weapons and took whatever they thought was most useful, from rocket launchers to disposable anti-tank weapons to hand grenades. All of it was clearly old military surplus which was at least a few years out of date.
“What about you, Tadhg?” Peter asked.
Tadhg walked over to the front passenger door of the truck. He opened it and pulled out an excessively tacticool automatic shotgun. Pointing it upward, he cocked it dramatically.
“I think I’m gonna stick with what I know.”
Peter looked over to the Old One, which had righted itself and was now looking straight at them.
“Whatever we’re going to do, let’s do it quick!” he said. “It’s going to be coming right for us!”
“You think you’d be able to distract it for about a minute, Peter?” Tadhg asked.
“I think I can manage one minute,” he replied.
Peter ran towards the creature as fast as he could, hoping to reach it before it got too close to everyone else.
It swiped at him with several hands, and he bent his body in inhuman ways in an attempt to dodge, but it still managed to grab him. Its hand was almost large enough to completely enclose his body. As it opened its mouth in an attempt to devour Peter whole, he changed to his shoggoth form and tried to ooze his way out through a crack between its fingers. It took him a few tries and the sacrifice of his clothes, but he managed to escape.
He returned to a humanoid form and stepped back in an attempt to put some distance between them.
“Firing!” Eric shouted as loud as he could.
Peter fell, prone, as Eric pulled the trigger. The rocket shot off towards the creature with a hissing noise. When it struck, it exploded in a small burst of fire and the beast recoiled from the impact.
“Well, shit, that actually seemed to hurt it!” Tadhg shouted.
Peter couldn’t hear much in the wake of the explosion. He jumped to his feet and observed the Old One for a moment. To him it appeared wounded, though it apparently didn’t bleed.
When the Old One righted itself, it looked around and, judging from the direction its head ended up pointing, it had noticed the others.
No, no, no, shit!
He ran in front of the creature as it started advancing towards the truck, but it paid him no heed. Its limbs were long enough that it was able to walk right over him.
Looking over to everyone else, Peter saw that they had all grabbed some form of explosive weapon and seemed ready to take on the creature…except for Tadhg, who had gotten back into the truck and started driving it straight towards it.
Peter dashed out of the way, expecting to watch the truck ram into the Old One again. However, Tadhg stopped once he was within the being’s reach and stepped out, shotgun in hand.
“My turn now,” he said.
“You can’t possibly make yourself the distraction. It’ll crush you like a bug!” Peter shouted.
“Don’t worry, I know how to dodge.”
He raised one hand, obviously signalling something to everyone else.
Peter’s ears were soon filled with the sound of explosions as a flurry of rockets shot across the park in an instant. Soon, the creature was drowning in smoke and fire.
Maybe we can win this after all
“Peter, catch!” Tadhg said all of a sudden.
Peter looked in the man’s direction, only to see a small object flying towards him. He managed to catch it, and upon closer examination he saw that it was a fragmentation grenade.
“You know how to use it?” Tadhg asked. “Just pull the pin, then throw it. It’ll explode after a few seconds.”
“Got it,” Peter replied as he absorbed the grenade into his naked body. “Do you think we have enough explosives to kill this thing?”
“Probably.”
“Probably? We’re working on a hunch here?”
“Yeah,” Tadhg said as he shot at the creature. “I don’t exactly have much experience killing gods, in case you haven’t noticed.”
The flames subsided, and the smoke slowly blew away in the wind as the beast let out a loud screech.
Peter took the opportunity to pull the pin and throw the grenade into the creature’s mouth. It flew in, too small to require much swallowing. Seconds later, it spasmed in response to the explosion that went off inside its body.
The creature started to move more erratically, almost limping.
“Peter! Dad!” Silas shouted. “Get out of the way!”
They both ran in opposite directions. When Peter thought he was far enough away, he turned around. Tadhg stood near a copse of trees at the far end of the clearing, hands on his knees. He saw Silas helping everyone else aim a variety of rocket launchers and LAWs at the Old One; they had discarded the weapons that had already been used rather than taking time to reload them.
A chain of explosions obscured the Old One from view as it was struck by the payload. Once they began to fade, Peter could see the creature heave and sway dramatically before finally collapsing to the ground.
He watched the remains of the Old One as they quickly turned to dust. He looked around at everyone; they were the only ones left in the park, as everyone else either fled or were devoured.
***
Exhausted, they walked to the nearest intact road and called taxis to take them across the river the long way. The driver made small talk, but didn’t ask any probing questions.
When everyone arrived back at campus, they went back to their dorms and went to sleep, with the exception of Peter; he stayed up and watched his phone like a hawk, just in case someone was still in danger. To his surprise, his phone didn’t ring or beep even once throughout the night.
The next afternoon, he gathered everyone at his dorm after giving them time to sleep in.
“How’s everyone doing?” he asked. “We had quite the night. Is everyone okay?”
“Tell me about it,” Serena said. “Silas, is this what your job is like?”
“It’s not usually this stressful, no,” he said. “Generally, I don’t fuck with things that involve, like, the fate of the entire world and all of humanity.”
“I know we stopped the end of the world and shit, but I think we should wait a little while before we kick off the celebrations,” Eric said. “I’m tired as fuck right now. Also, I think I have tinnitus, so I don’t really want to be anywhere that’s super noisy for a bit.”
“Understandable,” Silas said. “You did shoot an alien god in the face with a rocket launcher.”
“That was honestly kind of awesome,” Victoria said. “I never would have imagined that I’d get to fire a rocket launcher.”
“Tell me about it,” Isabelle said.
“That was fun and all, but I’d really rather never do it again in my life, thank you very much,” Lachlan said.
“Amen to that,” Eric said.
“Well…it’s finally over,” Peter said as he fell backward onto his bed in a spread-eagle pose. “Now we just have to worry about finals.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The incident on Samhain was sparsely reported in the news, as few of the people who managed to escape had taken photos or video. Before long, it was dismissed as a hoax by the general public, no doubt thanks to help from a government cover-up.
Two weeks later, Solomon Carter was interred in a cemetery to the east of downtown. Due to the state of his remains, there was no open casket; they opted to bury him before anyone arrived. It was raining, because of course it was. The funeral was packed with people, many of whom no doubt were shocked by his seemingly abrupt suicide. Peter was given very little notice to acquire an outfit that was appropriate for a funeral, and he didn’t think to bring an umbrella.
Tadhg had insisted that everyone attend. He was called upon to give a eulogy, and Peter was surprised to see the man in a black three-piece suit rather than his usual ensemble. His mohawk had been combed down, and when he stood at the podium he removed his sunglasses to reveal eyes full of tears. After his participation in the events at Samhain, the authorities had seemingly given up on apprehending him, allowing his crimes to be swept under the rug.
