by Sergio Gomez
“Yeah, he said to make sure I make you proud. That it’s a wonderful feeling to make your dad proud.”
“You already do, mijo.”
And because Felicia was already driving the truck down the hill, he said, “You got the gun ready?”
Charlie showed it to him.
“Don’t think of them as living beings if it makes it easier.”
“Then what do I think of them as?”
“Think of them as a blockage to us living a normal life again.”
“We would be in history books like Christopher Columbus, right? For being the people who started the world over again?”
“I think we’re a long way from history books at this point, Charlie. But if someone wants to write a history book, I’ll make sure they include us, how’s that sound?”
“Maybe Boris will.”
Up ahead, Paul crossed the imaginary boundary Alejandro had in his head that constituted as the village, a few seconds later so did the truck, which meant it was their time to go.
“Charlie, I expect you to keep your promise to me.”
“I will.”
“You remember it right? Run, no matter what.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Good.” Alejandro hit the gas and the SUV headed for the village. The first smoke bomb had already been thrown into the first hut, and the first Noches were already storming out.
*
Boris was going off with the rifle, mowing down the Noches that came trudging out of the West side of the village without a moment’s hesitation. Big, small, male, female, he was going through all of them like a bowling ball through pins. Only a few came close to jumping on to the vehicle, but he managed to move the spray of bullets quick enough to catch them in the air.
Alejandro followed several yards behind Paul, meanwhile the pop of the handgun Charlie was using to shoot down Noches rang in his ears. Charlie shot them as they came out of the huts. They were making noises that sounded like something between growls and coughs. Most of them were too dazed and confused to try to attack them. Only a few jumped toward the SUV, but Charlie had gotten skilled with the gun and took them out before they did anything more than scratch the plastic or punch the hood.
When the group was about six huts deep into the village, the village grounds were in chaos. Noches were writhing and screaming in pain on the ground, wounded ones were looking for their family members, mothers were running screaming and covering their babies up from the bullets whizzing through the air.
It was all going according to plan, Los Noches didn’t even seem hostile any more, it was more like they were worried about getting to safety than to stop the vehicles, although some of the more courageous males did attempt to pounce on to the vehicles.
Paul was protected by the fact that he was a faster, smaller, and less dangerous target so he mostly went ignored. Charlie and Boris were doing a great job of protecting the vehicles and keeping Los Noches at bay.
It was all going great.
Until Alejandro saw the four long claws on the roof of a hut, all four of them held boulders over their heads ready to be launched.
Alejandro laid on the horn to try to warn Felicia of the oncoming assault, but it was too late.
Los Noches threw the boulders at the same time as the truck sped by. One missed, another one hit the hood of the truck and left a significant dent, the other two hit the windshield and shattered it. Boris dropped the rifle and put his hands over his face as the pieces of glass rained down on him, Felicia was not so quick, and glass went right into her eyes.
She screamed in agony and put her fingers into her eyes as if she was going to be able to pull the bits of glass out. All that this accomplished was to make her lose control of the vehicle, and in her spasms of pain her foot slammed on the gas. The truck launched forward, fishtailing and throwing Claire over the side of the truck.
She tumbled over the lip of the bed, and smashed on to the ground. Her shoulder and collarbone broke on impact. The pain flashing through her left her immobilized on the ground.
Three Noches came out of the clouds of smoke, and surrounded her. Her screams filled the night, but they would die off soon enough.
Each one grabbed a limb. One grabbed the arm connected to her broken shoulder, and when he pulled it off bits of bones fell to the ground like spilled dominoes. She passed out from the pain, so she didn’t feel when the other two grabbed her legs and ripped them off.
Meanwhile the truck continued on its path, barreling through the village and heading straight towards a hut. The Noches on the roof of the hut saw the vehicle heading their way and threw their boulders to the side. They knew what it meant if they stayed on when those two tons of steel collided with the hut.
They scrambled to get down, pushing and shoving each other in frenzy, but none of them would make it. The truck drove right through the side of the hut. The log roof slanted where the truck smashed through the support beam, it suspended in the air for a moment at this slant, and then it gave out. The logs broke off the vines that had bound them together and came crashing down. The hut walls exploded outwards from the pressure, and the roof caved in on anything underneath it, including the truck. Los Noches fell with the roof and the impact of the fall killed some of them and left others with broken bones. Boris was crushed from underneath the weight of the logs and felt no pain before he was reduced to human jelly.
Felicia’s death had been more painful, because before the ceiling gave out, the support beam had split when the truck hit it and a sharp end had lodged itself into her chest. She had struggled with glass in her eyes and a piece of beam in her body for a few seconds before the hut collapsed on top of the truck and mashed her to her death.
*
Alejandro slammed on the brakes when he heard the crash. Past the obscurity of the smoke—the smoke had traveled well past them like a ghost by now and enshrouded the village grounds like a cloud—he could just make out the wreckage on the West side of the village.
“Shit,” Alejandro said unbuckling his belt. “Let’s go, we’re going to go see what happened.”
He opened the door and started sprinting toward the ruined remains of the crash scene. What was left barely resembled living quarters; it was more like a giant bundle of sticks with the tail end of a truck sticking out of it.
“They’re dead,” Charlie said.
“Yeah,” Alejandro responded, although it hadn’t been a question.
From the top of the pile of the wreckage a Noche covered in blood rose up. It opened its mouth to scream, but only a croak came out. It swayed back and forth before losing its balance and tried to plant its foot, but it was broken and gave out from underneath him, as a result the Noche tumbled forward until it hit the bed of the truck. There it laid with its eyes closed, groaning in pain from all of the broken bones in its body.
“Pa, look.” Charlie said, tugging on Alejandro’s shirt.
Alejandro looked to the right of where the truck was, and he felt his stomach somersault. A pile of blood and guts and other things that were supposed to be inside of a human body were jumbled together like a stain in the grass.
“It’s Claire.” Charlie said.
Alejandro grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him as they bolted back the opposite way to the SUV. An elderly Noche—evidenced by the graying hairs on its body—jumped in front of them and screamed at them, revealing its numerous sets of teeth with holes where some of them were missing.
Without thinking Alejandro took out his gun and shot it in the head. They jumped into the SUV.
“Fuck!” He screamed when the door was closed.
This hadn’t been in the plans. Their numbers had been reduced down to 3 in one attack. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but Los Noches had made Felicia lose control of the vehicle and it killed her, Boris, and Claire. Fuck was right, because now it was just him, Paul, and Charlie left, and there were still Noches running all about the village.
Los Noches wer
e more worried about tending to the injured and helping one another than attacking them, but these were creatures that they knew wouldn’t hesitate to rip them to shreds…His mind wandered back to the blood in the grass that had belonged to Claire, but he quickly pushed the thoughts away and refocused.
“We have to find Paul.” He said, thinking aloud.
But it would be difficult to do that—downright impossible. There were too many indistinguishable shadows moving too fast to be able to pinpoint anything as Paul.
“Why don’t we drive until we see him?” Charlie suggested.
Alejandro nodded. “You keep shooting.”
They had failed their objective. They hadn’t killed nearly as many Noches as he had hoped they would, and at this point, judging from the amount of activity there still was, Los Noches could easily rebuild the village. All of this had been for nothing, and Alejandro never felt more like a failure.
The only thing that would put him in better spirits would be if they could get out of this by at least saving Paul.
But now he had doubts that he could even do that.
7
Paul tore through the cloud of smoke, coughing and his eyes watering. He had been pressing the gas as hard as he could and behind him he heard the motor on the scooter giving out, it was rumbling and complaining. He let the gas pedal go, but it was too late, he had redlined it trying to get out into the open air and already the scooter was slowing down.
“Shit, shit, shit,” He looked around, hoping to see either the truck or the SUV so that someone could save him. In a matter of minutes he’d be a sitting duck, and looking around also revealed just how many Noches were still left alive.
Although they were distracted by helping up the hurt ones or by running to safety, he didn’t like that he’d be on foot in their territory if he didn’t get rescued soon.
The wheels on the scooter slowed down so much they started to get stuck underneath clumps of grass. It came to a complete stop yards away from a hut, but close enough that those on the roof of it spotted him. Paul looked up, and felt terror strike through every inch of his body.
Los Noches screamed, like sounds Paul had never heard them make. Battle cries. He thought.
Then they were climbing down the side of the hut, and next they would be coming for him.
His legs and mind finally came to the same page, and he turned and ran, back into the cloud of smoke, hoping in the haze they’d lose him.
It worked, somehow it had worked, Los Noches stopped chasing him when he was behind the smoke.
He ran for about a minute through the cloud before having to stop.
Staring back at him through the gray curtain of the smoke were three pairs of red eyes. The terror spread through his body again. Most of the rest of them was hidden by the smoke, but the one thing that the smoke couldn’t hide was their sharp, sword-like claws.
He opened his mouth to scream, but the sound never came out. One of the Noches pounced forward and stabbed him through the gut. The claw came out the other end of Paul’s body like a blade, and he slumped forward, dying almost instantly.
The Noche kicked him off his claw. His lifeless body flopped to the ground. Then Los Noches were surrounding his carcass, and they feasted.
*
The SUV broke through the cloud and got into the clearing. Now Alejandro could clearly see in front of him, and drove the SUV into a group of Noches that had their backs turned to him. The front of the van hit them and sent them flying through the air like blades of grass spat out by a lawnmower.
The front tires crushed two of the Noches caught underneath them, breaking one’s neck and tearing open the other one’s abdomen.
Ahead Alejandro spotted the scooter Paul had been driving in. Out of instincts he hit the brakes.
Alejandro put the van in park and got out. He picked up the scooter and looked it once over. The key was in the ignition and it was turned ON, but the motor was dead.
Which meant Paul must have been dead too. Dead or had ran away. The former was more likely, but it didn’t matter anyway. It was over.
They had failed.
No, he had failed them. He had let them all down. Claire, Paul, Boris, all of them. Even Howard and Will. He had walked them all to their deaths, marched them down as his pawns for his objective, and didn’t do good enough to protect them. He had sacrificed them—well, they had sacrificed themselves for him, and he hadn’t even completed what he sought out to do.
He looked around. The cloud of smoke was receding, now just a few wisps hung in the air, and he could see the chaos that the village was in. To his right was the wreckage that had killed Boris and Felicia. He couldn’t see it from here exactly, but in his mind’s eye he could see the pool of carnage that remained of Claire, poor sweet Claire.
And here, lying by his feet was the scooter Paul had been sent on to the end of his life. The possibility that he had gotten to safety wasn’t in Alejandro’s mind any more, no, not now that he could see how many Noches were still alive.
They were all over the village; some of them hurt and being helped by others, some of them fighting amongst one another, some lying on the ground covered in rivulets of their own blood from where the rifle or Charlie’s handgun had torn through their skin. And in all of this there was no discrimination, some of them were baby Noches, some the long-claws, others the elderly. They had effectively ruined the village…for now, but Alejandro had no doubts they would rebuild.
He had failed everyone.
Everyone except the person who mattered most to him.
He ran back to the SUV, and he felt his soul rip through his chest when he saw the passenger seat was empty.
8
Alejandro saw Charlie at the entrance of one of the huts, and he ran after him. He tried calling his name, but he couldn’t get his voice out loud enough. It was like his throat had closed up, the feeling of what he imagined someone with a peanut allergy experienced when someone forgot to tell them the cookies were Macadamia nut.
Charlie walked into the hut, and the darkness swallowed him like the mouth of a monster. Alejandro sprinted after him faster, and let the dark take him in, too.
*
It was almost pitch black inside the hut. Alejandro couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face, and he walked with his arms stretched out to feel where he was going.
He couldn’t see, but he could smell the place. A mixture of body odor, oils, and feces floated through the air and filled his lungs, causing him to choke and cough. Somehow the smell made it feel like the walls were closing in, like the entrance would shut closed behind him and he’d be stuck in here forever, breathing in this acrid air until his last breath.
Alejandro batted these thoughts out of his mind and centered himself. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark and the smell of the place began to lose its potency.
Several feet into the hut, like a guiding fairy in a forest in one of those folklore stories, he saw Charlie’s light from his lantern.
Following it he bumped into things he didn’t see were in his way, stepping on things that felt like stone when his boots crunched on them, but he got closer and closer to the light. The light was moving deeper into the hut and he kept after it.
Eventually the light stopped and he gained on it. He bumped into a wall, but he knew there was a walkway through it because he could still see the light. Using his hands, and gaining even more respect for the blind, he touched the wall. It was damp and slimy, and he tried not to think about what he had just rubbed off all over his palms. The wall ended and he found the entrance to the next room and went through it.
His throat felt normal, no longer did he feel like something was pinching it shut. The light was just up ahead, and he called out into the dark, “Charlie! Charlie! Mijo!”
Of course, the light was coming from the lantern Charlie was holding. Charlie turned to look at his dad when he heard him calling. Some hair was on his face, the glow of the light made his skin lo
ok pale—almost ghastly, his eyes were wide with wonderment, and beads of sweat were formed between his top lip and nose. Alejandro thought his son never looked more beautiful.
He raced to him and grabbed him. “Charlie, what the hell—”
“Pa, stop.” Charlie moved the lantern up, so that the light revealed what they were standing in front of, and Alejandro’s eyes gazed upon the etchings on the wall.
Reflexively he took the lantern from Charlie’s hands and moved the lantern about the wall, revealing more and more of it wherever the lantern’s light would break the darkness.
His throat closed up again.
*
The etchings were carved on to a stonewall that went from floor to ceiling. They were depictions of man vs. Noche—who the bad guys were was not a matter of perception in the drawings. No, the men were carved with scowling faces, while Los Noches were made to be cowering in fear of man’s weapons. Man held snakes with wide open mouths at defenseless Noches on the ground that were either hurt or dead.
There were also carvings that made Los Noches out to be brawny heroes, standing triumphantly over piles of dead humans. Some of these Noches were drawn with long claws, but not all of them. In contrast, the humans were drawn to be wimpy and if any were alive they had faces of fear on them as they looked up at the heroic Noche.
And lastly, some of the etchings were of groups of Noches engaged in battle with groups of humans. Most of them showed muscular Noches getting the best of the angry-faced humans, but others showed the struggle of one group trying to establish their dominance.
All in all, it was a mural of Los Noche’s conflicts with the humans, and the fact that the artist behind such carvings was a Noche was indubitable.
There was no more questioning in Alejandro’s mind as to who the monsters were.
*
Alejandro felt as if an eternity had gone by by the time he saw the last etching on the wall. He stepped back, still in awe.
“Dad, shouldn’t we go?” Charlie said, snapping him back to reality.
