Ancient Awakening (The Ancient)

by Matthew Bryan Laube

  *****

  Time moved forward without him. It hadn't been long, not more than a few minutes. He was still on the bed, being rolled down a hall. It was not hard for him to feign unconsciousness, as half of his body still was bound by the thick casts and braces that had been used to reset his bones. A normal man would still be unconscious, and he had no intention of letting it be known he was anything but normal.

  As he rolled down the hall, he considered his options. He was quite sure that his arm and ribs had mostly healed by this point, but was equally sure that his leg had not. Without a weapon and with one damaged leg it would be nearly impossible take a demon head-on, even a young one such as this. He would have to wait for his moment and hope that his luck would change. Otherwise, it might be another hundred years before he had another chance. God only knew what the state of things would be by then.

  Suddenly the bed stopped.

  “I have a meal for my brother,” the demon-nurse said to someone. “Is he calm?”

  Miller risked a quick glance. Two huge men were standing next to his bed. Wolves, and just like the demon, very young. This kept getting better. Things were further along than he had thought. He guessed that his holiday was over.

  “For the moment,” was the husky reply of one of the men. Miller tensed his stiff muscles, trying to ready himself for whatever came next.

  “Perhaps cracking this one open will be good for him.” He heard a door open and was wheeled into a new room. The smell hit him like a wave. The stench of death and decay assaulted his senses. The door was quickly shut and locked behind him.

  Miller took a chance and opened his eyes wide. He was alone in a large white padded room. No, not alone. Someone or something was in the room with him. He sensed it but couldn't manage to see past his right arm, which was still locked into position on his bed. The first thing to do would be to stand up and see what was going on. He rocked back and forth, trying to tip the bed over. A loud slurping noise stopped him for a moment. “Well that’s a new sound.” He thought.

  He began the rocking motion again. Whatever it was, it was coming closer. He heard the padding of feet and something heavy dragging along the ground. The creature was panting and something was dripping. Drool, perhaps? Fantastic!

  At last, the bed rocked far enough to tip over and crash to the floor. Pain flooded his right leg. That one definitely needed a bit more time. The fall had freed his good arm and loosened up his right. He began fighting with the straps, keeping his legs in place while stretching his neck to try to see his playmate over the side of the bed. He could not see anything yet but managed to undo the belt at his waist. He then went back to freeing his right arm from the various bits and pieces that kept it locked into position.

  Suddenly, a large black claw latched onto the side of the bed and lifted it straight up. Miller's arm came free with a snap but there was still a strap on his right leg that managed to hold it in place. His head hit the floor, while most of the rest of his body dangled in the air. He twisted again to try to see, helpless at the moment to do much else.

  It was a horror that he had not had the pleasure of experiencing before. The one arm was a massive claw, as if borrowed from a larger demon, much older than this creature could possibly be. Most of the rest of it was young, and clearly male. The black scales on his arm stretched up to his shoulder, across his chest, and down his belly. His eyes were the black of those touched by the Fallen, but empty of intelligence. A long, black, barbed tongue hung out of his fanged mouth and drool ran down his cheek. Miller could see the very faint tracks of tears on the creature’s face. Most of his hair had fallen out or been torn out, but some bits remained, sticking out in odd directions. One large wing twitched on his back, like something from a huge insect. He wore no clothes, and the spots where his remaining skin met the dark scales looked red and blotchy.

  “Hello. Joseph Miller. A pleasure to meet you.”

  He started again, not feeling that he should be rude to this creature. He meant to keep this civil, at least until they started trying to kill each other. Perhaps someday he would find a monster who, instead of feeding on the flesh of mankind, enjoyed knitting.. This beast’s only response was to lick the back of the bed. It made a slurping, scratching noise.

  “Hmm. You seem to have me at a bit of a disadvantage.”

  Apparently not liking the taste of “ye olde hospital bed,” the monster chucked it aside with inhuman strength. Miller, unfortunately still attached, was tossed along with it. He landed in a heap but managed to keep the bed between him and the monster. Pain exploded all over his body, but at least now he could finally reach the belt that stubbornly held him in harm’s way. In a moment, he was free and pushing the bed away. Leaning against the wall, he managed to pull himself up to a standing position. His left leg was stiff but workable. He was surprised to find that he could put some weight on the right with only minor pain. Much better.

  The demon-man was facing away from him now, seeming not to notice him. It howled and smashed its giant claw into the wall, tearing into the padding that covered the room. The black scales ran down most of its back, and several spikes poked out from its spine. In one corner of the room he noticed a pile of bones, which had been sucked clean. In some way, this comforted him. So many things had changed, but monsters’ habit of piling up bones in their lairs had remained constant. Just like the good old days.

  Miller focused on the new creature. It was as if a demon had miscarried as it possessed the man, creating some sort of mindless creature. This was something that, in all of his thousands of years, he had never seen. But then, he had been seeing a lot of new things of late. Why not new monsters as well? It seemed only fair. Apparently, in an effort to prove they could be a decent folk, the other demons were caring for this one like a sick sibling and he was meant to be lunch. He almost felt bad that he had to kill it, seeing as nothing similar had ever existed before. He did have a job to do, though. Thinking better of it, he hit on an idea.

  “Lad, I think you and I can help each other out.” The beast did not respond. Perhaps it could not hear? Finding an old bone on the floor, he picked it up and tossed it at the creature’s back. It bounced right off. The beast spun around with a growl, at last taking notice of him. It howled and charged, its lopsided body lurching forward with impressive speed. Miller just barely managed to hop to the left as its huge black claw smashed into the wall. Leaning back, he drove an elbow hard against the side of its head with a loud crack. It staggered, but the claw embedded itself into the wall, and the beast could not move far. Its head seemed to flop to the side for a second, before snapping back up and locking eyes with him. To Miller’s surprise, the eyes were now human!

  “Please,” it pleaded, the word slow, drawn out, and slurred as it came from its mouth, the long tongue making speech difficult. “Please kill me.”

  Miller was struck mute, a rare thing for a chatty man like him, and stumbled backward, falling over. There was still something human in there. This was impossible. Once cursed by a demon, there was no coming back. Or was there? Impossible! He thought about the trails of tears that clung to its cheeks. After all these years, had the rules changed?

  “Good Lord,” he stammered. The creature stepped forward and screamed. The noise started off almost human but then become an angry howl as the demon’s eyes filled with inky blackness. Whatever part of the creature that was still human had left again. The beast started for him, lifting its giant arm as if to crush him into the ground. Recovering from his shock, Miller rolled across the room, briefly held up by the arm in the cast. This time the beast’s claw missed him by some distance. Stopping at the wall on the other side of the room, he once again propped himself up and faced the half-breed demon. They stared at each other as Miller shifted toward the front door. Using the wall to help keep the weight off his injured leg, he moved very slowly, waiting for the beast’s next
move. He knew that if the black claw reached him, he would go back to nothingness, and then how could he watch more TV?

  No move came from the beast. It stepped forward and then stopped, as if unsure. It seemed to be quite literally of two minds as to what to do next. At last reaching the front door, and not taking his eyes off the beast, Miller gave a quick polite knock to the small window and waved at the man outside the door.

  “Hullo. Joseph Miller, nice to meet you.” Miller grinned at the now panicked man. Turning to face the beast he said, “What’s the matter, don't want your dinner? You’re going to have to do a lot better than that!”

  In response, it shuffled forward, dragging its oversized arm behind it. He hoped whatever was human in the creature wouldn’t feel what was coming next. Miller didn't wait this time. At last putting weight on the bad leg, he went into a fighting stance, and drove the palm of his good hand forward, catching the beast full in the face. Black blood exploded from its nose and its head snapped back. Keeping the momentum going, he shifted his weight back to the good foot, dropped his weight and spun, sweeping out with the leg in the cast. He let out a loud yelp of pain as he made contact with the beast’s legs. It collapsed to the ground.

  Hearing the door click open, he kept the spin going, turning to face the door and hopping on one foot. One of the cursed men leapt through the door at him, trying to protect his charge. Moving with the new man's force, Miller placed his good foot on the cursed man’s chest and dropped back to the floor, tossing the man over Miller’s shoulders and right on top of the demon. The two collided, falling to the ground. Rolling to the right, Miller again used the wall to pick himself up and then hopped on his good foot.

  The cursed man and the half-demon struggled for a moment, until the demon managed to snatch up the man in his giant claw, immediately starting to crush him. The man, who howled as he struggled to escape, began to grow, trying to change into his stronger, hairier, less-fun-at-parties form. The demon would have none of that. Its tongue snaked around the wolf’s throat, tearing it open and beginning to feed off its blood.

  “Ahh, that’s a good lad.” As Miller had hoped, the beast had no concept of friend or foe. Whatever was left of the human in him could enjoy the meal. “That worked well.”

  Then, a thought occurred to Miller. Hadn't there been two men at the door?

  He turned to face the door just as the second cursed man charged in. Miller didn't have time to dodge the fist that swung at him, knocking him back. It was a good solid hit to his face. Reeling, Miller tucked in his chin and covered his face with his elbow as a second fist followed. He managed to partially block this one, but its force was still enough to drive him off his unsteady feet to the ground. He didn't fight the motion, and dropped straight down onto his back. The wolf-man stood above him, massive and powerful even in his human form. Once they transformed to beasts for the first time, werewolves never completely changed back. Most of them kept their huge muscles and height, making them formidable fighters in any condition. That is, of course, if one fought fairly. Miller drove his good leg up between the wolf-man’s legs with all his might. The man seemed to buckle with the blow, releasing a soft grunt and falling over to his side before rolling into a ball and rocking back and forth. Miller slowly stood up and limped to the door. “Well, lad, this one here should make a fine dessert. I'll be back later for you. I promise.”

  The beast was busy tearing the first wolf-man apart, piece by piece. He no longer struggled, and was already quite dead. Miller closed the door behind him and, after a moment, managed to work the lock into place. He took a last glance through the door’s window. The remaining wolf-man was getting back to his shaky feet and was staring at Miller. Miller gave him a friendly wave and walked away just as the huge black claw appeared above the wolf-man. From outside the padded room, Miller could just make out the soft crunch.

  Chapter 11 - Allies and Enemies

  Deathzone – Apocalyptica - Amplified