“We didn’t do anything,” Melissa began.
“The fuck you didn’t!” Officer Miller hissed. “Now put you prissy little hands on the car. Same goes for all of you!”
Gabriel felt his temper flare and roil at Chucky Miller’s sardonic tone, his insolence. However, he complied with the officer’s demands in hopes of persuading him to at least hear their version of matters. The notion seemed far-fetched, ridiculous even, given Officer Miller’s facial expression that could only be described as equal parts rage and exhilaration; he looked like a madman.
He watched as Officer Miller approached him and began to pat his body in search of a weapon. His inspection was brief. He patted the length of Gabriel’s leg from ankle to groin as well as his torso from armpit to waist. He quickly moved on to Yoshi and conducted a similar, albeit short, search before he turned to Alexandra and Melissa. A look of derangement flashed in his beady eyes and the wind stirred gently whipping his hair into a frizzy pompadour. He began with Alexandra and took his time, allowing his hands to linger about her chest. He then traced his hands in a slow serpentine motion down her torso to her legs then back up her inner thighs.
“Hey, get your hands off me you pervert!” Alexandra protested.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch! I’m conducting official police business here,” Officer Miller spat and continued his lewd groping. He cupped and squeezed her buttocks then leaned his pelvis against her backside. He slid his hand up her thigh again and was about to place it between her legs when a voice halted him.
“Get your hands off her,” Yoshi warned through his teeth and began to back away from the car, clearly riled. Yoshi advanced several steps, his stride confident, his jaw set resolutely. Gabriel had never seen his friend look upon another as fiercely as he looked upon Chucky Miller.
“You better stand-down and put your hands back on the car before I put a bullet in your head!” Officer Miller ordered as he backed his crotch away from Alexandra. He then strode up to Yoshi and placed the barrel of his revolver at his forehead.
Gabriel watched as Yoshi locked eyes with Officer Miller boldly, defiantly. He did not demonstrate the slightest hint of intimidation. Officer Miller had no idea who he was standing off against.
But suddenly, their standoff was interrupted by blinding light.
An additional patrol unit had arrived its headlamps bathed the confrontation between Yoshi and Officer Miller in a dizzying array of colors. Red, white and blue flashes throbbed from its roof rack and a double set of headlights glared.
“You’re lucky,” Officer Miller uttered as he quickly withdrew the barrel of his pistol from Yoshi’s forehead. He looked over his shoulder at the unit that arrived. “Very lucky.”
Gabriel squinted and shielded his eyes with his hand, despite cautions from Officer Miller. Initially, he could not discern any facial features or even the silhouette of the police officer that hesitated to exit his vehicle. When finally the driver’s side door opened and a leg emerged, followed by another, he was better able to gauge the officer’s physicality. He watched as the officer rose to his feet and stood with his fists balled at his hips, a mountainous shadow, broad, brawny, and colossally built. Gabriel immediately recognized the considerable outline; Eugene.
He was not alone in his immediate recognition. Melissa gasped and Alexandra whispered a profanity.
“Chucky, I mean Officer Miller, turn around,” Melissa began in a trembling voice. “That guy coming toward us is not a cop. You have to let us go. Please! He’s going to kill us.”
“Shut your mouth you murdering little bitch. You think I’m stupid?” Officer Miller replied and released his handcuffs from his utility belt.
The enormous shape moved slowly, deliberately toward them and paused after every few steps to inhale deeply as if savoring the scents in the air. Officer Miller remained fixated on their compliance. With handcuffs in one hand and his firearm in the other, Officer Miller appeared poised to discharge his weapon at the slightest hint of resistance.
“Turn around!” Melissa urged. “I’m not playing games!”
***
Eugene approached Gabriel, Melissa, Alexandra and the mystery Asian man unhurriedly but with purpose. He halted from time to time to sniff the air. It had become saturated with the bodily secretions of all present. Adrenaline was the most prevalent note, pungent and acrid, indicative of intense emotions swirling about. He wrestled to contain the urge to charge them, tear each of their limbs from them and watch them die slowly. He knew he would have the opportunity to do just that but wanted to relish the moments leading up to it equally as much. Experience had broadened his knowledge base further regarding death, opened an anticipatory realm of enjoyment to him. He learned that delaying gratification made the final act all the more fulfilling.
Suppressing a shudder, he moved at a slow pace and saw only one officer detaining Gabriel and his pathetic human companions. He was surprised by how well his plan had worked out, how easily human beings were manipulated–even those in positions of authority. He listened as the officer, too pompous to heed their warnings, did not bother to turn around despite Melissa’s incessant pleas. He felt a swell of anger at the notion that the pathetic officer deemed himself too important, too powerful to acknowledge a member of the same species, that somehow his uniform and badge earned him a position of superiority. Superior humans seemed an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms. They were all fools, cattle awaiting slaughter.
Eugene felt his pace increase the angrier he became. He took larger steps, covering the distance between them faster and faster until he was arms-length from the armed policeman. In one swift motion, he grabbed the uniformed drone by the back of his head and smashed his face through the rear window of his cruiser. He immediately pulled him from the fractured glass and spun him to see if he had died. To Eugene’s delight, the officer lived.
“I guess you should have listened to the murdering bitch,” he sneered then watched as a look of horror clouded his expression.
The tortured guise of pain and the smell of blood threatened to frenzy him. He longed to kill him slowly, watch as each shred of life escaped him, but knew Melissa and her friends had scattered. Their deaths would be slow. He would have time to spend on them. He breathed deeply to control the fitful rage that coursed through his veins as he raised his free hand and clutched the officer by the throat. He stared into his eyes and thought about the affectation produced by the drab uniform and tin badge he donned. Eugene clamped his massive hand and applied every ounce of his might. He felt bone yield beneath his grip and saw the officer’s eyes widen and bulge briefly before staring straight ahead vacantly, lifelessly.
A ripple tore through Eugene, involuntary and powerful. He doubled over in exhilaration and noticed the gun that lay on the ground by his feet. He abhorred guns. He promptly picked up the deceased man’s armament and released the bullets from its chamber before rocketing it into the black abyss. He returned his focus to Gabriel, Alexandra, Melissa and the small Asian man. They looked on in shock, in horror. They had spread out temporarily only to return to their cluster formation, well aware that running would be futile. They knew they could not outrun him, could not hide from him. There was no escape. He would always find them. They had no choice but to fight.
Eugene stepped toward Gabriel and saw in his peripheral vision that the small man had scampered toward the dead officer and grabbed the nightstick from his utility belt. As he turned toward the scurrying man, Gabriel attacked from behind. Eugene turned and swung but missed. Gabriel appeared to move faster than he had previously, and more skillfully. He even managed to land several blows against Eugene’s body but the blows were ineffective; they did not slow him.
Without warning, he felt the nightstick land against the back of his head. Eugene howled out angry and frustrated, he turned only to feel the same weapon strike his face. The small man managed to hit him not once, but twice. He moved with remarkable speed for a human, an attribute that served to both v
ex and impress Eugene. Presented with a worthy adversary, he began to enjoy himself. No longer willing to repeat the mistake of underestimating his opponent, he paid closer attention to the stick wielding man as he advanced again and launched a fast, dextrous attack.
Though the man was fast, he was still only fast by human standards. Eugene caught the nightstick mid-swing and grabbed the assailant by the collar of his shirt. He then effortlessly tossed him into the windshield of the cruiser. Glass exploded and showered in every direction. Unfazed by the shards of shattered windshield, Eugene, motivated by a single purpose, moved toward his diminutive adversary eager to kill.
Gabriel, determined to thwart his objective, jumped in front of him and landed a powerful punch to his throat. A burst of pain accompanied by difficulty breathing disoriented him temporarily. He wheezed and gasped and tried to catch his breath. As he coughed and sputtered, Gabriel seized opportunity to strike him in the nose. Eugene was not certain but guessed his nasal septum had been comprised. His hands reflexively went to his nose, which bled profusely. Gabriel spun and kicked him, hard, in the abdomen. He felt himself fall backward and slam into the parked car, before falling to the ground.
Vitriol held him as an unpleasant but not entirely unfamiliar sensation burned through him: disgrace. Eugene had been disgraced and humiliated by Terzini’s failed champion. The love-struck answer to the mistakes of humanity had successfully broken his nose and managed to topple him. But he would not enjoy victory for long.
Eugene sprung to his feet and straightened himself, flexing each of his imposing muscles simultaneously. He felt the power of pure hatred surge through him, energize him. Nourished by fury, he was prepared to unleash the fullest extent of his wrath ever. His insides quavered violently as his inherent bloodlust motivated him as never before. Gabriel advanced again, undoubtedly intending to assail him with another of his uninspiring new martial arts maneuvers. Eugene halted Gabriel’s attack, however, by launching his large fist forward almost instantaneously and blasted him in the chest. On impact, he detected the sound of at least two ribs fracturing. Gabriel clutched his midsection and Eugene swung his hand connecting the backside of it with Gabriel’s face. He watched as Gabriel fell to the ground but did not waste time. He wanted to rectify the disgrace he’d instigated. He walked toward him panting with excitement, fighting to not succumb to an all-encompassing shudder that would render him paralyzed by elation, and began to kick and stomp at him.
The harder he kicked the more exhilarated he became, the more challenging fending off the euphoric blackout became. Sweat poured from his brow as he continued his blitz. It wasn’t until a whimper of despair distracted him and caused him to reconsider his course of attack. Melissa huddled with her friend at the front of the shiny red car they arrived in. He left Gabriel, a battered mass of flesh, where he lay and moved to Melissa.
“Now you’re going to watch her die before I kill you,” he said and enjoyed the tortured look of misery in Gabriel’s face as he tried desperately to rise to his feet.
Eugene pulled Melissa by her frail arm and realized he would enjoy murdering her with a terrified audience more than he could have imagined. He would kill her slowly and satisfy two needs at once: his savagery and Gabriel’s misery. Both entertained him. Both thrilled him.
With Melissa’s willowy arm dwarfed by his enormous hand, he swung her toward him and swung his cupped free hand at her concurrently. The impact of his hand against her cheek produced a loud whack and sent her flimsy body backward until it collapsed against the car. He had hit her hard enough to hurt her, but not kill her. He dared not sully the climax of his torture with a quick death.
As he loomed over her deciding precisely how to brutalize her, a high-pitched sound tore through the night and pierced the darkness. The sound was unlike any he’d ever heard before. It slashed at his eardrums with razor-sharp shrillness. He covered his ears against it and turned in the direction of the sound. From the darkened shadows surrounding the three vehicles, a hunched and hulking shape emerged. Best described as a partially formed human, Eugene saw the creature just as it lunged at him. He did not have time to raise his arms protectively or step out of its path. It was immediately upon him.
***
The faceless man had been following Melissa since she left her unkind neighbor’s house earlier. She and her friends had not seen him but he had traveled alongside them invisibly the entire evening. He had worried that she might need him and remained with her without her knowledge like a shadow, ever-present but not considered. He moved through the darkness, as he had since leaving Terzini’s underground laboratory, cloaked by the velvety blackness of nighttime skirting side streets and exerting himself to keep pace with Melissa and her friends once they commandeered a shiny red car. It had been difficult for him to keep up with them once they were no longer on foot but he pushed himself hard, tested the limits of his strength and endurance.
He had followed her, not for his own selfish reasons, but to protect her if she needed protection. He knew that protection was inherent in the social contract of friendship. Threatening forces conspired against her and her friends. He had been certain he would be needed. Police had chased them. The large, frightening creature that he had rescued from the ambulance for Terzini had pursued them as well. He had vivid memories of the monster. He saw now that it had angry eyes and a cruel smile.
He watched from the wooded area beyond the street in shock as Gabriel and a small, Asian man attempted to fight the beast, to overcome it. They could not defeat it as he’d hoped. The monster was too powerful. And very mean.
He listened intently for ugly words to befall the monsters pressed lips. It did not speak much, but when it did, its words resonated through the faceless man. It said it was going to kill Melissa, his friend. He edged closer to the street, his fist balled at his sides tightly and his breath came in short, shallow pants. He watched the monster stalk toward Melissa and yank her by her slender arm. He felt his fingernails break the skin of his palms as he clenched tighter and tighter, tensing the formidable muscles of his forearms and biceps. Then to his horror, he saw the monster raise its massive hand and strike her; he knew in that instant that it intended to make good on his threat. He knew the monster was going to kill her.
A strange sensation surged through the faceless man, an inexplicable phenomenon akin to a bolt of lightning flashing through his core. Horror, anger and fear merged and sliced through him like a high-voltage current. He opened his mouth and produced a sound heretofore unheard in nature; a sound as strange and dangerous as the reaction his body was producing.
From a dark recess of his crux, he emitted a primitive warning to the beast that dared harm his friend. He would not allow for her to be killed, and notified his adversary of impending conflict. The same energy that flared within him set him into motion. He ran as fast as his legs would allow and burst through the brush exploding against the behemoth brute. His arms wrapped around it, locked it immediately in an unrelenting grip. He buried his face against it. As soon as he felt his face connect with the monster’s flesh he opened his mouth and bit down, hard into his neck.
The monster swatted at him, wriggled and flailed. Its blows were more powerful than he could have ever imagined; each one felt as if a sledgehammer had drilled against his body. It attempted to rake his eyes, scratching and clawing with animalistic ferocity. But he did not let go, knew he must not let go. He did not release his arms from their powerful encirclement and did not relax his jaw. Pain radiated from every part of his body, but the faceless man refused to relinquish his grip. His jaw clamped down squarely on the beast’s throat, he felt a warm gush of metallic-tasting fluid drain from it profusely.
Though the monster bled, he still managed to pound at him, battering and injuring him. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Melissa, wounded and frail, and bit down harder. He felt the beast’s windpipe crush beneath the compression of his jaw and immediately felt the monster’s assaults weaken. Still, he d
id not retreat; he did not renounce his rigor. He twisted his clinched teeth and felt the tension that once existed in monster slacken. Still, he did not let go. Blood flowed from its torn neck and dripped from his own mouth.
In the time it took to empty life from the monster, the faceless man had not noticed the arrival of several police cars. He did not see the uniformed men climb from their vehicles and train their pistols on him. They shouted at him from every direction, a hideous cacophony of warnings and expletives. He did not understand what all of the urgency was about; the monster was dead, his friend was safe. He had done something noble, yet the uniformed men with their guns aimed at him did not seem to agree.
He released the lifeless beast, watched as it fell to the ground. He reached a hand to his chin, felt the blood and matter beneath his fingertips and realized he must look frightening to them. He took a step toward the officers, trying desperately to gesture his intentions and the circumstances of the monster’s death but the armed men did not seem to care. Instead, they seemed to mistake him for the monster when, in fact, he had saved his friend from one.
“Take another step, and we’ll shoot!” one shouted.
“Stay where you are, asshole!” another yelled.
They did not understand his gestures, that he did not mean them any harm. He put his arms up with his hands facing them, palms turned outward to signal his cooperation. He stepped forward and heard a thunderous sound ring out followed by searing pain in his shoulder. A bullet had penetrated his flesh, lodged somewhere in his upper arm.
“No! Leave him alone!” a female voice cried out.
He looked up to see Melissa screaming, urging the armed men to stop firing at him. Her face was distraught, worry creased her face; she was concerned for him. He staggered toward her, moved a fraction of a footstep in her direction and felt a stinging blast against his thigh and then another in his unwounded arm.
Planet Urth Boxed Set Page 120
