Havoc of Souls

by S. J. Sanders

  Havoc of Souls

  S.J. Sanders

  ©2019 by Samantha Sanders

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without explicit permission granted in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction intended for adult audiences only.

  Editor: LY Publishing

  Cover Artist: Sam Griffin

  Many thanks to all the people who made this book possible!

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Forward

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  Author’s Note

  Forward

  This book blends certain aspects of Etruscan myth with horror themes in a story of romance. You may see terms that you do not recognize such as miasma which refers to a spiritual pollution, ais or asier which refers to a god or gods respectively, and unfamiliar deity names, because of this I have included a glossary in the back.

  Prologue

  When autumn comes, people celebrate. When autumn comes, it is apples and pumpkins, colorful leaves and warm drinks. When autumn comes, people whisper of spirits and things unknown with hushed voices and merry smiles, things that had gone unspoken since the festivals of spring. All these festivals pay homage to a universal truth: life and death go hand in hand.

  But when autumn came that year to the Northern Hemisphere, there was no merriment. It was ushered in by a loud, moaning sonic crack that rippled out from some unknown epicenter. The pulse emitted swept over the earth, frying power grids in its wake.

  Then came the mist.

  The mist swept out to every corner of the world, spilling through the night like a collection of specters. For five days and nights, it was an impenetrable shroud. It was as if the hand of death settled over the land. None dared to enter into it. None dared to leave their homes, because one thing was certain: in the mist they were not alone.

  The mist brought things with it. Things that shouldn’t be among the world of men.

  Creatures were born from the mist, myriad in form but one thing in common. They were predators. They ravaged everything that dared to step into the mist. Everyone waited, and those of faith praying to whoever they revered, that soon the mist would abate.

  Then, one morning the mist was gone. The world was quiet the first days, even the birds themselves struck dumb and afraid to sing. The mist departed, but it didn’t take long to discover that when the mist departed, the creatures, the ravagers, stayed. And in the dark of the night, the ravagers came out to hunt... they came out to play.

  Ravagers who consumed the world.

  That is what everyone called them. They wreaked havoc and destroyed everything in their path. Life seemed to wither and die even quicker than usual for the season. Some said they were demons sent to punish the people, with their massive muscled bodies, long, thin tails, and curving horns. Some said they were unnatural spirits that had awoken from a long slumber to cleanse the earth. Then there were those who claimed they were angry souls wreaking their vengeance upon every person they encountered. No one could agree what they were dealing with, other than the fact that the creatures of the mist indisputably ravaged the world within a matter of weeks.

  They favored the night; that was when the worst of their number came out to hunt. The smaller ones who fed on the scraps of the living braved the daytime, where there were fewer dark places to hide and hunt their prey. These were the ones that burrowed into vulnerable humans, consuming them from the inside as they grew stronger like a parasite.

  And sometimes, there was something even more dangerous hiding within people that no one expected.

  He came, a traveler, five days after the mist receded. He wandered down the main road right into Ashton. The people stopped and watched him as he shuffled into town. He was dirty, his boots worn as if he’d walked for miles, and his windswept hair hanging in tangled knots around his face. He didn’t stop to speak to anyone; he just continued on his unfaltering path toward the heart of their community.

  When people inquired, he only said that his vehicle broke down miles away on the interstate. That was nothing unusual. With the ravagers, gas supplies dwindled and fewer people had working vehicles. Many folks were left with nothing but their own two feet to take them where they needed to go. They watched as he walked down the road with his peculiar gait. His eyes did not wander; he just stared ahead, his lips pinched into a hard line.

  Then suddenly, he stopped right there in the middle of the road. He stood in front of a local restaurant, a too-wide smile upon his face.

  Everyone stopped and stared when he stepped inside, smiling in his unnatural way. He walked over to a booth and slid in, dropping handfuls of money onto the table as if he pulled them directly out of the air.

  Immediately everyone snapped to attention. Servers brought out platters of food and mugs of beer. He consumed the food and drink like one starved, and still he dropped money on the table and still they set more and more food and drink in front of him to feed his insatiable appetite.

  People began to surround him, men and women flattering him for even a bit of wealth. Each of them eagerly snatched up every dollar bill he held out to them, envisioning the time when everything would be right again. Then they would be all right with the money they plucked like chicks from his fingertips. He never ran out of coin with which to pay, and no one thought much of it.

  His smile grew wider, and his eyes a little brighter, as he beckoned people forward with silent promises slipping from the void of his fingertips.

  Until night came.

  He was sitting in his booth, bones piled around him, consuming another order of wings. His teeth stripped the flesh ravenously, cracking bone, slurping the marrow. A lovely young woman was at his right, a good-looking man on his left. They were laughing and flirting with him, hands stroking his coat as if seeking the hidden well of his money.

  He did not protest or acknowledge their attempts. He did nothing more than eat his chicken and offer money to any he desired to lure in. When the last of the sun’s rays fell from the doorway, he stopped eating and smiled. A cruel, deranged smile. He dropped the wing from his fingers and his body jerked with terrible spasms. His frame twisted in on itself, the ligaments tearing and reforming, his flesh corroding and building again in a grisly display until all that lingered was a terrible beast.

  It towered over them, easily eight feet tall, grinning perpetually as its glowing eyes swept over them. A narrow tail curled around his body, and his monstrous face supported three pairs of descending horns over the crown of his head. The abnormally long fingers on his large, grotesque hands hooked into vicious claws.

  He grabbed the woman nearest to his sid
e with a violent thrust of his arm and dug razor-sharp teeth into her throat, gnawing into the flesh as her blood ran over his lips, spilling down her neck. The man at his other side had attempted to flee but didn’t make it far before the creature looked up, its face wet with blood. It crossed the distance in a single leap as it sprung like a panther, pulling him down and tearing into him. His jaws full of blood and gore, he smiled and then went after another person trapped inside with him.

  Some managed to get away, braving the night, chased by the sounds of the ravager. Though they were frightened of other ravagers hiding in the darkness, they were more terrified of the ravager beast that had come among them. Screams were heard from those who did not make it to safety within their homes. Blood sprayed over the roads as a laughter unlike anything anyone heard rose over the streets of Ashton.

  After that day, people turned against each other, afraid that anyone could be harboring a ravager within them. Families became insular, trusting no one outside their tight-knit bonds. What was left of their town disintegrated even further. People began to stake territories and jealously defend them. They would draw together, hesitantly, reluctantly, during the daylight hours to exchange provisions in the town center, but the community itself died that night.

  That was what the world had become.

  No one thought it could possibly get worse. Spending their lives hiding from the dark.

  They were wrong.

  In a seam between worlds, he came.

  Charu came.

  An unearthly hue of sickly blue, he rose, his dark hair whipping around his curved horns and face like living serpents as he placed his booted feet upon the stony ground. His chest heaved with the first breaths of life as his crimson eyes scanned the area around him. Serpents twined around him, disappearing into his flesh and emerging again seemingly at will. Hefting a massive hammer onto his shoulder, he strode over the horizon on his mission.

  He brought death with him as he sought out the ravagers. None were safe, nor exempt from his brutal reaping. He cared not for the living. Not for those unfortunate ones whom the ravagers infested, nor the communities into which they burrowed like parasites. Charu ravaged all before him.

  No warning preceded his coming, nor could he be clearly seen from a distance except for a glowing sphere-like lamp swinging from his belt.

  None escaped him. For Charu was the gatekeeper, and the gatekeeper does not yield that which is charged to him.

  Chapter 1

  A scrap of old wet newspaper, one of many strewn about the street, flapped with a sudden gust of wind. The road was vacant and the night silent except for the echo of an eerie moan over Ashton. The crows, settled in a tree, stirred, disturbed by the sound, their wings flapping as they rose like a black cloud, blotting out the moon.

  A lone figure tilted her head up, body crouched at the sudden burst of movement. She watched as the crows disappeared, doubtlessly looking for a better perch. She didn’t blame them. The sound had bored straight into her bones, turning her blood to ice. It was inhuman.

  Meredith knew she was a fool to be out at night. Yet, foolish as it may be, it was the best time to scavenge for supplies when she wouldn’t have to compete with other people looking for food and resources. When she wouldn’t have to worry about crossing into another family’s territory.

  At one time she might have agreed that humanity would come together when confronted with obstacles, helping each other to survive. In her experience, when the world went to hell it was every man for himself. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, how many years did one have to watch the Black Friday stampedes to understand that when confronted with limited resources, the first impulse was to ruthlessly seize that which one needed? There were always exceptions, but on the whole people were driven to look out for themselves and their families before all else.

  When it became a matter of life or death, it raised the stakes.

  Meredith had people shoot at her, and others attempted to steal what little she had. She no longer trusted strangers—for good reason. It was a far cry from what her life had been like before the ravagers came.

  It wasn’t like she was living a charmed existence before. No one says, “Hey, I want to grow up and be a waitress.” That said, it hadn’t been a total crapshoot. Sure, sometimes there were less than pleasant customers, but she’d covered the late shift which allowed her plenty of time during the day to indulge her interests. She may not have had a 401k, or health benefits, but she had a cute little apartment, three meals a day, sometimes a bit extra for dessert, cable TV, and her cellphone, which she used to do everything from reading to scrolling through her social media.

  All it took was one night to lose everything.

  Funny how things work out that way.

  Her boots hit the pavement with more sound than she liked as she rushed between the buildings. Her muscles were tired, but she couldn’t wait any longer, nor could she walk at a more comfortable pace. Every time she slowed, every time she stopped, she took a dangerous chance with her life. Though, by some miracle, the ravagers couldn’t enter human abodes without invitation, the street was a different matter. On the street, she was completely exposed.

  The night hid the ravagers. Their exact number was unknown. Solitary by nature, no one ever caught a glimpse of the ravagers in numbers, so no one could be sure if there were dozens or hundreds. None of them were creatures Meredith wanted to tangle with. Ravagers were fearsome and capable of killing her without expending any effort, but she was terrified of the traveler who outclassed all the others in sheer size and brutality. For that reason, in her mind she’d categorized him as a ravager primus. He could be nothing less than foremost among the ravagers.

  Another moaning bellow echoed around her. It sounded closer. Her booted feet skidded as she rounded a corner. She was nearly to the superstore. Meredith could hear the crunch of numerous feet rushing through the garbage and dry autumn leaves on the road. She leaned forward, reaching with her entire body as she saw the glass doors of the entrance.

  She’d attracted more than one ravager.

  Meredith whimpered in the back of her throat, cold sweat dripping down her spine. They were close enough that she could hear the loud panting breath in between snarls and vicious growls. Beneath it all, she heard them speak to each other in layered voices.

  Mine. Back off.

  No, she is mine. Tasty female flesh.

  Leave the bones! I will break the bone and eat the marrow. Sweet, so sweet.

  A feast for us, a feast of death. We will bleed the body, gnaw the flesh, and drink the blood.

  She swallowed a sob, her breath caught in her throat as the air shifted behind her as if a large hand or paw were just inches away. They were closing in.

  “Not a fucking chance!” she cried and pushed her muscles for all they were worth. Her knees drew up and her feet felt as if they were flying over the asphalt. She didn’t even slow as she approached the open door. She catapulted through. Her boots skidded over the linoleum, and she tripped, careening into abandoned metal carts. Her momentum toppled the carts in front so that they landed together in a loud crash. Meredith lay there among the tipped-over baskets, staring up at the ceiling with disbelief. She’d made it.

  Meredith rolled over onto her knees and rose to her feet. Strands of purple hair fell in front of her eyes as she looked out the glass windows facing her. Even from where she stood, the howls of anger were audible. The ravagers paced back and forth in front of the entrance, stopping to snarl at her or fight amongst themselves. Shooting them a triumphant grin and the finger, Meredith adjusted her backpack and wandered down the nearest aisle, pushing a cart in front of her.

  Wrinkling her nose, she surveyed the grocery aisles. Items like bread, milk, eggs and meat were long gone. Without electricity, they were the first things consumed. Even if she had been lucky to find any, it would have been rotten by now. She licked her lips at the memory of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. She knew tha
t some families raised chickens and had tiny indoor greenhouses in which they grew vegetables and fruits. Meredith would have killed for fresh food... not literally... well, maybe.

  Still, she contented herself with grabbing what was left of the remaining cans of tuna, canned beef, cans of green beans, stewed carrots, and creamed corn. All the better vegetables had been picked over already. A lone can of fruit cocktail shoved far enough back on a lower shelf that it had gone unseen made her hoot victoriously as she tossed it into her basket.

  Once she had gotten enough food for several days, she went to the hygiene section. Funny enough, it was one of the parts of the store still well-stocked. Meredith supposed that many people gave up on such things. Not her. The world may be ending, but she refused to smell like death herself. A new tube of toothpaste and deodorant quickly joined her belongings, along with a bottle of shampoo. She hesitated in front of the hair dye as she fingered her hair.

  Packing her belongings in her bag, aside from a can of stew and her new toothbrush and toothpaste, Meredith pushed her cart to the back of the store. The electric grid may have been crap, but the water still ran. It was cold as fuck, but no one went thirsty and didn’t have to be dirty if they could grit their teeth and bear it. More importantly, it made it a lot easier to cook.

  Going into the pitch-black bathroom, Meredith felt along the walls until she found the faucets. She cranked one and allowed the water to run for a moment before she placed her canteen beneath it, gathering water for her meal. Once the cold water overflowed into her hand, she pulled it back and screwed on the cap before turning off the tap.

  She was walking out of the bathroom when she heard a distinctive clatter.

  Meredith froze, her senses reeling. Without the light of the moon, it was darker inside than it was even outside. She was nearly blind. Her heart sped up, beating out a staccato rhythm in her chest.

  Once, when she was young, she remembered seeing from her window a neighbor’s cat stalk a bunny in the yard. The bunny had barely looked old enough to leave the nest, but had known, instinctively, that it was in mortal peril. It had frozen in place, its tiny eyes staring with fear as its body shuddered. It had attempted to flee but the cat killed it with ruthless efficiency.