by Kyle Warner
I land on top of a furry meatsack, which probably saves my spine. The creature kicks me off and I roll into the dirt.
The Rakasa howl. Most escape the incident with bruises and smoking fur, but some are engulfed in flames. The burning creatures run to the jungle and disappear down their holes.
I start up the hill slowly. I can take my time. The monsters have bigger things to worry about now.
When I reach the peak I get a chance to enjoy my handiwork.
The fire from the explosion has set the dry grass ablaze. Flames are jumping from the grass to the trees. More fires are spreading from where the burning creatures died in the jungle.
The island is burning.
I toss aside the empty pistol and savor the moment.
There is a crater where the explosion went off… but no, it’s more than that. The ground has fallen away, collapsed into the caverns.
I made a new hole.
A tree in the center of the island falls and then its neighbor goes down, too. A plume of dust shoots up. What’s going on?
More trees fall, more dust. Soon the entire jungle is collapsing, disappearing into a shroud of dust and dirt.
The jungle is gone but fire and smoke continue to rise out of the dust.
A strong breeze comes in from the ocean, clearing the dust well enough for me to gaze out at the jungle and determine what has transpired.
The blast so badly destabilized the island that the caverns collapsed. The thick jungle has been swallowed by a sinkhole of my creation.
They tried to run and hide in their caves and I brought the roof down on their heads.
I’ve smothered them all.
I laugh.
I’ve won!
Claws dig into my ankle, cancelling my victory. I fall to my knees screaming and look back to see a Rakasa reaching out of the mound’s hole. Its face is burnt and there is blood leaking from its nostrils.
I blow it a kiss and kick it in the face. The claws release and the weakened creature falls away from the hole, crashing to the bottom with a wonderful snap.
I dust myself off and stand back up. The mound shifts underneath my weight. The dirt shoots up dust and the hill seems to moan beneath me.
“Oh, shit.”
The hill falls apart, the hole widens, and darkness swallows me. I fall and wait to hear the familiar snap of bones when I reach the bottom.
15.
Three of the creatures are on me the instant I hit the bottom. Their teeth sink deep, their claws cut me open. I’m being eaten alive.
But I’m not dead yet.
My killers are weak and bloody just like me. I use that.
A Rakasa opens its toothy maw and lunges for me. I punch my fist down its throat, get a good hold on its tongue, and rip it out of its mouth. It screams something horrible as blood gushes between its ragged teeth.
The two other monsters take pause, possibly never having heard their own kind cry in such a way. I put my foot down on the dying Rakasa’s neck and yank one of its longest fangs from its mouth.
By now the others are focusing on me again. One creature lunges forward and sinks its teeth into my leg, while the other goes for my throat.
I block the higher attack with my arm. Its teeth sink into flesh and bone. I cry out and swing the fang at my attacker’s head, embedding the tooth in its eye.
The mouth releases immediately. It falls back and claws at its own face, opening up new wounds as it tries to remove the tooth from its eye socket.
The last remaining Rakasa releases me and takes a few steps back. It hangs its head like a punished dog and whimpers.
I stand up straight. Blood is oozing from a dozen wounds all over my body. I’m going to die and I’m not feeling merciful.
I remove the tooth from the dying Rakasa’s eye. It makes a loud squelch. The fang is heavy and wet. I hold it like a knife and tell the island’s last demon that I’m ready for more.
It shakes off the wounded dog routine like a conman caught in a lie. Its tongue licks the blood from its jowls and its eyes burn with hate.
Yeah, go on and hate me, you son of a bitch. You wanted me dead before but that was because you were hungry. Now I killed all your mates. Show me what the Devil’s revenge looks like.
It occurs to me that I am looking upon the last of a species.
I mean to kill it. I want to reduce it to the very minimum that it can be: decoration. I want to shred the flesh and fur from its bones, wear its head for a hat and turn the rest of it into a rug so I can stomp my dirty boots across its back every damn day.
Useless fantasy. It means nothing. I’m dying. The color fades. The tooth feels heavier in my hand.
Let’s make this quick.
It leaps for me and I stab it repeatedly in the gut. Blood gushes onto my chest. Its claws go into my shoulders. I hold its teeth at bay. Blood and saliva spray my face from its gnashing jaws. I scream at it and it screams back. It’s the best worst moment of my life.
My legs give out. It lands on top of me. The teeth go into my hair, bite into my skull. I hear the individual teeth raking across bone. I feel blood in my ears. It rears back, hair and flesh stuck between its teeth.
I stab the tooth up into its lower jaw. It cries and blood gurgles out of its mouth. My hair falls from its teeth, lands in my eyes. I’m blinded as blood rains down on me.
The thing collapses on my stomach. It’s dying but it’s not going slowly. It continues to flex its claws into my flesh. It opens and closes its mouth on air, just hoping that a limb will find its way between its jaws.
The last Rakasa breathes a final whimpering sigh and goes still.
I let it rest for a moment before I push it off and roll away.
I manage to stand. I’m going to die and that’s just fine but I’ll be damned if I die in a hole surrounded by demons. I mean, quite literally, I could be damned.
Can’t have that.
The caverns are collapsed. A wall of dirt and rock blocks my path back to the cave that led to the ocean.
The only way out is up.
A tangle of roots hang like a rope from the wide hole that used to be the mound of dirt. On any normal day, it’d be a relatively easy climb. But today isn’t normal.
I take the root in my hands, give it a tug, and start my ascent.
16.
My body is painted red and black with the blood and grease of demons. My own blood mingles with it, continually leaking from the many wounds, and I wonder if I should worry about infection.
I almost laugh… then figure what the hell? I laugh my head off. Infection! Yeah, right. I’ll be dead long before that.
It occurs to me that I could attempt to clean the wounds and patch them up with clothes torn from my dead shipmates. Doesn’t seem worth it, though. Might as well let it end this way. I’ve won after all. But my victory came at a cost I cannot afford to pay. It’s best to go out on top instead of drawing this out and forgetting what it felt like to be alive.
The trees are burning at the center of the island where the ground fell away. The smoke travels far and wide.
Dead birds are smoking at the edge of the tree line. I pick up a considerably plump one and start plucking the feathers.
My last meal.
I don’t want to linger near the collapsed mound for fear that my opponents may rise from the dead somehow and seek vengeance. Anything’s possible.
If this is to be the end, I’d rather end it with my mates on the beach and watch the sun go down. I wonder if I’m being too sentimental. Probably. They were assholes and I don’t really care that they’re dead, but well… I guess I just don’t want to be alone.
My stomach hurts. I think it’s just hunger but then I notice the detached tooth sticking out of my gut. Christ. I pull it out and it’s like releasing a stopper on a barrel of wine. I’m gushing blood down my front and panic surges through me.
I’m not going to reach the beach… but I must try.
I drop the bird. I won’
t be able to eat it anyway.
I run as fast as my legs will carry me. I take the long way around, going over hills and dry ground to avoid the fire. The smoke is choking me. The heat is like an angry hand on my back trying to drag me down.
This island wants me dead in the worst ways. Always has. I take it personally, spit into the fire, and trudge forward.
I will die my way, thank you.
I can see the beach through the smoke. The sunset and the white sand looks a bit like Heaven ought to look and I wonder if that’s what it actually is.
Don’t fool yourself. It’s just a beach. Heaven doesn’t have time for your shit.
I pass through a curtain of smoke and do my best not to breathe it in.
The smoke clears, I step onto the beach, and I’m welcomed by my crew.
The droopy, vacant faces of Jarvis Jenks, Ahmed, and No-Eyed Jack stare back at me. I think they’re drunk at first. Maybe they got into the rum. Then I notice they ain’t got nothing beneath their necks but sticks in the sand.
The grave’s been dug up and the heads have been removed from the bodies of my shipmates. The Rakasa stuck the heads on pikes, even did what they could to make their eyes look open and aware. The headless corpses are resting on the sand, their innards torn from their guts and thrown about.
The monsters had themselves quite a party.
I fall to the sand and scream. I’m babbling, weeping, drooling all over myself.
A twig snaps behind me.
Goddammit. I didn’t kill them all. I left at least one of them alive. He’s watching me. He’s enjoying my reaction to his little art project. He’s waiting for me to stand and face him before he deals the killing blow.
But I won’t turn. I won’t fight. I’m ready. I’m done. I’ve had enough of this fucking place. If this was a test, I hardly care to pass it anymore. Let me out. Let me die. Just grant me release so that I can go.
The twig snaps again and a man passes in front of me.
I stop my babbling but the spittle still hangs from my bloody lips. I stare up at him in wonder.
He’s well dressed. A Navy man. He’s got plenty of buttons and colors stitched to his chest. In his arms he holds a rifle. He’s aiming it at me.
“I found one of them!” the man shouts.
A Navy ship sails into view behind the man. Usually a Navy ship would make me want to turn and flee but now I’m nearly crying with happiness.
I try to stand but the man hits me with the rifle.
“Stay seated, savage,” he says.
A dozen men come charging down the beach. They’re all sailors for the Queen of… I don’t care. They’re alive. They’ve got a doctor. They have a ship. I’m saved.
The man next to me says, “I found one of the cannibals, sir.”
Cannibal? Where? Blood gurgles up from the back of my throat and I jettison the fluid out my mouth. The man recoils. A woman screams.
A woman?
My vision’s fuzzy but I see a woman step out of the group of men and gasp at the bodies in the sand.
It’s Mary. No, can’t be. But it is!
An officer with a bushy white mustache comes to the front of the group. I recognize this man. He’s one of Mary’s previous suitors. He must be helping Mary go in search for me, fully expecting to never find anything. Mary probably saw through it, realized the man was simply trying to win her over, but she knew a good deal when she saw one.
The officer says, “Are any of these him?”
One of the sailors goes to the remains of my shipmates and turns the heads on the pikes one by one so that they face Mary. He does it so casually it’s like he’s turning on the tap.
Mary covers her mouth in a silk handkerchief and shakes her head. “No, they’re not him.”
My God, I recognize the voice. I feel power surge through me. She’s really come looking for me.
For me.
I stand up with a smile, raise my arm quickly, and shout to her, “My love!”
A rifle goes off. My face explodes as a bullet rips through one cheek and goes out the other. Teeth tumble from my shattered jaw like a Mexican piñata that’s busted and spilling its goods. I gargle on blood and chunks of my tongue and fall back to my knees.
The officer with the mustache kicks me in the chest and I’m splayed out onto my back.
“You’ve killed your last man, savage,” the officer says and produces a pistol from behind his back. He aims it at my skull. If he recognizes me, he hides it well.
The man who found me says, “I never thought I’d see a cannibal. Thought they just belonged in the scary stories. Don’t look much different than us, though, if you look real close.”
“Some scary stories are true, lad,” the officer says. “Savages may look like a man, but they’re animals. Monsters, really.” He cocks the pistol. “Only one way to deal with such a creature.”
Mary softly says, “My man is dead like the rest, isn’t he?”
“I expect so, miss,” says the officer, still holding the gun on me. “And with that fire that drew us here, I don’t know that we’ll ever find him.”
I want to say something. I want to cry out that I am one of them, that I am Mary’s lost love, that I am human like the rest. But the bullet has stolen my tongue and I am only left to gurgle red bubbles in reply.
I stare at Mary. How can she look in my eyes and not see something familiar in them? How could she have come so far to find me and fail to recognize her prize?
The officer looks back to Mary. He says, “You may not want to watch this, miss.”
Mary shakes her head. “No, I think I do.”
The bastard pulls the trigger.
And that’s it.
This work of fiction could not have been completed without the support of family and friends, to whom I remain eternally grateful. Rakasa is the shortest story I’ve published thus far. It began as a useful distraction that I’d write on the days when the much larger book In the Shadow of Extinction wasn’t working for whatever reason. Being able to step away from that epic to write something mean and lean kept me energized. I had a great time working on Rakasa and I hope to do another story like it sometime in the future.
If you enjoyed reading Rakasa, please consider leaving a book review at Amazon or Goodreads. Any review, no matter how brief, helps create exposure, resulting in more book sales. So, any comments from readers would be greatly appreciated!
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Also by Kyle Warner:
In the Shadow of Extinction: A Kaiju Epic (coming soon)
Death’s Good Intentions: The End of the World and Some Other Things Book 1
The Greater Evil: The End of the World and Some Other Things Book 2 (coming soon)
The Man with the Devil’s Tongue: A Prologue to the End of the World and Some Other Things
Brain Mold
