“Yeah, but if it weren't for this job, we'd all be popsicles out there, or worse,” replied Christian drolly.
“What's worse than being a popsicle?” asked Taylor.
“Being a snack for those snake fuckers.”
“Kept you waiting, did I?” replied a gravelly voice. The three of them spun in place, looking for the person who had spoken.
“Sergeant Mason, sir!”
“Ease off it kid, I was just messing with you.”
The three of them relaxed, and Larry sat in the seat Miles had vacated.
“He's still pissed, huh?”
“Yeah. Going to be that way for a while, I think,” replied Oklahoma.
“Makes sense, Kari. I would be too, if I put in the same time, attention, and care into something like he did with Betty.” Replied Larry.
Taylor, Kari, and Christian all looked contemplative.
“So, have you guys figured out the traction and road debris issue?”
“Nothing. We can't even fabricate a plow, no tools. Chains will tear up the tires. We have no snow tires here, best we have is studded. Most of that switchover was already done an hour ago.” Christian gave the update quietly. He almost seemed defeated.
“I think I know a guy that can help. You might have seen him earlier. Keep up the hard work.”
Larry stood and walked away, letting the small group of friends resume talking. He had a lot of work to accomplish in only an hour. The day stretched ahead, looking like it would never end. Larry absently rubbed at his chest, wincing in pain.
The Emissary
“Tango tango tango,” Jones bellowed into his mic.
“Shut the fuck up, Jones!” White shouted up through the port. Jones ignored the comment and continued to speak, training the gun he had gripped. It was a fifty caliber chain gun, mounted on top of their Hummvee.
“Contacts, twelve hundred hours.”
“Jones, you're a fucking idiot. That's 'twelve-o-clock'. Or just say dead ahead. Moron.”
Laughter cascaded through the line. Pre-battle jitters. This was Jones's first encounter with the alien creatures. He was freezing, even through his multiple layers of clothing. It was well below freezing, and had been since darkness had fallen some weeks before.
“Shut up guys, I'm trying to do this right,” Jones whined.
“Jones, there's barely anything left. We are probably the only living people in three hundred miles. Now, how many of those snake fuckers are there?”
“Uh, three, no, four. And one of the big ones.”
White repeated what he heard in a more formal tone. “Four fodder, one tank, one hundred meters dead ahead. Weapons hot at fifty.”
Reports of sightings of the snakes had worried the men, however none of the teams had ever seen more than one at a time. Then the last scouting crew had gone dark. Eight men had saddled up and driven out to the location the scouts had been scavenging at.
Deep in the midwest, near the northern border, these men were used to cold. It had been a secret base for a secret project. Then darkness had fallen. All hell broke loose, and the unit had fractured. Some groups walked away, intent on fighting the alien threat. Others had simply wanted to survive. Blood had been shed, and both groups had limped off, leaving their fallen to cool in the dark.
A chorus of replies came in over the channel, a handful of men hyped for a battle. Unprepared for reality. The two vehicles crept along the cracked pavement, rolling over debris of all sorts. The snakes were piling corpses like cordwood in the center of the street, drawing from the prim suburban houses. The nearest city was a measly fifteen miles away.
One of the snakes stiffened, clearly sniffing the air. It looked around, and the vehicles stopped. After a long, tense moment, the snake went back to work, and all of the men exhaled sharply. The vehicles started their slow roll again. When they crossed the imaginary line, a single order went out over the radios.
“Weapons hot,” whispered White. Then he opened his door, leaned his M249 SAW across the frame, and opened fire. The gun barked, loud in the silent world. His gun was quickly drowned out by the thunder of the .50 chain gun lighting up. Bullets stitched up the road, flinging chips of concrete and asphalt. First one, then several of the men whooped and hollered in joy.
“This is it boys! This is how we do it!” Shouted White. The gun bucked hard against his shoulder, rattling on the door. Brass casings flew from the ejection port, trailing a constant line of smoke in the cold air. Flames belched from the muzzle. Finally, two full seconds after they had opened fire, the first snake was struck. They seemed unaware until that point, completely oblivious to the thunder from only a hundred fifty feet away.
The first to be hit started to jerk and spasm, almost like it was dancing. The other four looked on it in confusion, then followed the tracers back. The bullets punched holes through the snake. Ichor sprayed across the pavement. It sat in thick clouds in the cold air. Then the other snakes sprang into action.
They shot toward the two trucks, using a deadly speed the men were wholly unprepared for. The whoops and hollers of joy quickly turned to panic. The men tried to adjust their aim, but a lack of discipline and experience prevented them from getting anything but the luckiest of hits. The first of the smaller snakes impacted the left truck, causing Jones to lurch. He let go of the controls for his turret.
Suddenly the shouts became screams, which fell to gurgles. White dropped his gun and slammed the door shut right as the largest of the snakes swiped at him. He was terrified, no longer the confidant man he had been. A puddle of urine stained the seat, dribbling to the floor. Then the bulletproof glass that made up his window shattered, and he was dragged out, kicking and screaming. His skin was quickly exposed as he was pulled over the broken glass, cutting deeply.
Even his screams fell silent after a time. The snakes fed, thankful for the warm meal. They liked it best when the prey were well fed and warm, until they knew true fear. It flavored the meat.
A man stood not far away, a strange dog at his side. Snow seemed to billow around him, falling despite the lack of clouds. He had a ragged appearance. His clothes were stained, full of holes, practically useless. Still, he seemed unbothered by the cold. He watched in fascination as the men fought, then died. As the last man fell silent, he grabbed the scruff of the dog.
The dog was not ordinary. It had a shaggy, long coat. It stood nearly as tall as the man himself, shoulder to rib cage. Feral light nearly glowed in its eyes, a wild energy barely contained. It shuffled quietly, readying. Muscles bunching, releasing, over and over, as it prepared. The man could feel the dog's excitement. He waited, watched, until it was over. Still he waited, as the snakes gorged on the men.
A cloud seemed to descend from the sky. It settled lower and lower, like a dense fog bank, finally setting down just beyond the pile of frozen humans. The cloud whisked away in an unseen breeze, revealing an ugly crate of a machine. Patchwork metal stood rigidly, and a door lowered. It looked almost like an armored personnel carrier, if it had been welded together by toddlers out of scraps.
One more snake left the ship, joining the four that feasted. Only once the final addition had started to eat, did the man release his grip. Still, the dog waited. It looked anxiously between the snakes and the human at its side. The man did nothing, only watching. Then, he rasped one word.
“Rend.”
The dog shot off, silent as the night around them. It covered the hundred feet in the blink of an eye, faster than any dog had a right to. It was on the first snake before any of them had sensed anything. The jaws of the dog opened wide, then wider. They split, forming a massive, teeth lined cavity. Tentacles writhed out, latching onto the head of the snake.
It started to make a noise, then fell silent as the dog retracted the tentacles and bit down with tremendous force in one move. The body of the snake fell forward, headless. The dog crunched for a moment, then turned and attacked the next snake. It had apparently not even noticed its accomplice dyi
ng next to it.
When the dog sprinted in, the man started a fast jog after it. As the dog turned and bit down on the second snake, the man arrived behind the largest alien. It raised its hooded head, sniffing the air. He leapt the last fifteen feet, slamming down on the back of the alien knees first. A whoosh of air escaped the creature, and something cracked when it landed face first on the pavement.
The dog bit the second snake's head clean off, but spit it out instead of chewing. The three remaining smaller snakes had begun to take notice. They turned simultaneously and hissed at the dog, even as the man slammed into the largest one, bringing it down. Their attention split between the two threats. Two of them went after the dog, which bounded back to draw them in between the two trucks.
Steam still rose from the corpses, flesh exposed and freezing in the air. The man and dog snarled as one, baiting the snakes in.
The man whispered something rapidly under his breath, then formed a flat blade with his right hand. He drove his hand downward, but missed the neck of the snake as it jerked to escape. His hand drove down, through the shoulder of the alien, and into the asphalt below. Chips flew up, and he withdrew his hand. The snake used its greater weight and strength to buck the man off.
He was tossed high into the air, but landed on his feet. The smaller snake that had split to the man lunged in, missing by a hair as the man bent backward to dodge. His hand whistled as it arced through the air. Ichor flew when his hand impacted then cut through the torso of the snake. Compressed innards flew through the new opening, covering the man in steaming ichor.
The lesser of his two opponents fell, heart open to the air. It tumbled, landing face up in the snow, the heart visibly stilled after only a single beat. The man turned his attention back to the larger snake, which had finally righted itself and turned to face him. It hissed, long and loud, claws bared. The man took a low stance, ready to move in any direction.
The first of the two snakes lunged straight at the dog, but missed as the dog leaped over its head and sprinted down its back. Claws suddenly grew from the paws of the dog, cutting long deep furrows through the scaled flesh. It dug deep and lunged over the hood of the right hand truck at the second snake. The snake reared back, hissing, claws ready to slash.
A tentacle shot out of the mouth of the dog, opening a foot in front of the muzzle of the dog and spitting a gooey substance out. The glob landed on the snake's face, blinding it. Muffled screams could be heard from the snake as its flesh sizzled. The dog's front paws impacted the torso of the snake, driving it backwards.
Snake and dog landed with a loud thump, cracks sounding sharply in the silence. The snake thrashed once, but the dog cut the struggles short by biting down over the head of the snake. Another crunch, and it too fell still. The dog turned its attention back to the first snake.
It had finally risen, muscles and bone gleaming dully in the starlight. Ichor dripped freely from its wounds. The dog bristled, claws digging at the asphalt. The smaller snake turned, claws ready. It had a gleam of intelligence, a feral awareness that gave the dog pause. The snake roared a challenge, taunting the dog, trying to force it to close the gap. It weaved between the two trucks.
The dog suddenly barked, loud and aggressive. The noise was staggering, and the snake flinched. In the split second that its eyes were closed, the dog broke left, paws digging furrows through the road. It circled the vehicle, bunched, and launched. The snake was caught unawares, still recovering from the aural assault.
Four paws landed on the back of the snake, almost appearing to latch on. The dog bore the snake down, growling. The snake hissed, loud and angry, then panicked as it slammed into the ground. The dog bent forward, muzzle drawn back in a ferocious snarl. Drool dripped from the exposed teeth, causing the scales of the snake to sizzle and pop. It opened its maw, then bit down on the snake's head, cutting through the hood and decapitating the snake. The snake's body writhed and spasmed, then went completely still.
The leader of the pack of snakes lunged, claws out and forward. The man responded in kind, jumping forward. He twisted in the air, showing a disturbing amount of fluidity in the flexion. The claws of the snake closed, then missed entirely. It grasped at the smaller form sailing under it, both still mid flight. The man kicked one foot out, catching the snake in the face.
The force applied was such that the man was immediately halted, feet thrown to the ground. He stood calmly as the snake reeled and crashed into the ground, stunned. He waited patiently, letting the snake recover. Once it was standing, he addressed it.
“Tell me what you know, and I will make it quick.” His voice was hoarse as if it had not seen use in a long time. He stared, challenging the snake. It loosed a mighty roar, launching again. The man stood unwavering. Just as the outstretched claws were set to take the man's head clean off, he reacted.
Both arms shot out. He latched onto the hands of the creature, the larger hands barely restrained, and he spun. A look of surprise crossed the face of the snake. The man let the snake sail on by. It slammed head first into the nearby truck. The man calmly approached the snake. He stepped up and looked down. The snake was dazed. The man formed a blade with each hand and sliced downward. Flesh parted. The snake screamed.
“Talk,” spoke the man once more. His voice seemed strained to the limit.
Ichor flowed out of the stumps that had been the arms of the snake only a moment before. It hissed, sounding almost like a cackle.
“Thiss one will die firsst,” replied the snake.
A cold calm had been on the man's face until that point. It twisted, revealing a darkness beneath the surface. He laced his hands together and cracked his knuckles, loosening up. His palms began to glow. At first, it was barely visible, but it grew in intensity. Before long the air around his hands shimmered with heat. Once he was satisfied, he slammed his hands onto the open wounds of the snake's shoulders.
The dog returned to the man's side, staring hungrily but restraining itself. The man looked at the dog, then addressed it.
“Go, feed. Return after.” The dog bounded off to the cooling bodies of the snakes, tearing great chunks free with its massive jaws. It feasted readily. The man turned his attention to the still living snake.
“Death will not stop me getting my answers. For you, though, death is a very long way off.”
The screams loosed by the snake were far too human, and they carried on for hours.
⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺
Two weeks earlier, the man had looked far more normal. His face was clear of scars, his hair was still on his head. The dog by his side was smaller, perhaps only seventy pounds. They sat in a house, trying to stay warm. The man had visions of destruction, of chaos. He felt ancient, having lived subjective millenia but still inhabiting a body that had only seen fifty-some years.
The two of them had been living out of a house far from any city for some time. However, with the lack of water and fresh food, the man had been forced to bundle up with the dog and journey toward a nearby town. They had settled in a house that had mostly survived the storms, providing adequate protection from the wind and snow. The man had a fire going all the time, careful to keep it alive, to feed it, so they could benefit from the warmth. He sat in front of the fire, as he had done so many times before.
Designs swirled through his mind's eye. They were maddening, ignoring bounds. At times, they almost felt tangible, as if he could shape them with his hand and hold them with his weak flesh. He began using a spoon on the wall, carving shapes into the particle board. Days passed, and the man worked feverishly. He only rarely stopped for sustenance. The dog waned in health, still sitting patiently by it's master's side. Four days passed like that, until something changed. The man felt it, like a bubble had snapped into place around their habitat. He came out of his fugue state, looking around. The room was filthy, the fire had guttered to ashes long before.
The dog lay on
it's side, panting heavily. He couldn't tell if the dog was sick. He took one step and realized the air was thick with humidity and heat. He gasped, suddenly aware of how incredibly hot the room was. A single thought escaped his mind and the air changed. It was tolerable, no longer like breathing through a wet towel.
“How the...” asked the man aloud. No answer came. He looked at the walls. The characters that had been consuming his mind for the last four days were scrawled on every available surface. They were on the floor, on the ceiling. His mind bent, looking at the characters. They were not of that world. Suddenly, he understood. The characters controlled the atmosphere. He could even identify a character that could possibly represent himself.
The dog perked up a few minutes later. It sat up, then nudged the man on his leg. It let loose a small whine. He patted the dog's side, feeling the ribs that were sticking out.
“Food, we need food.” He left the room, intending to go to the kitchen of the house. As he crossed the threshold, the air jabbed at him like daggers. He gasped, not expecting such a drastic difference. Ice immediately formed and sublimated on his skin. A character flashed through his mind and he drew it with a cramping hand. Heat radiated through the room, but he felt drained. It took a moment for him to regain clarity.
“I can do magic, girl.” The man said to the dog with an awed tone. The dog looked back at him, then whined. He nodded, resolute. They found the kitchen, and with a wave of his hand he made it warm enough for them to scavenge. The man crumpled to the floor. He was as pale as a ghost. The dog licked his face, and he came around. He made a mental note of his limits, and set about making food.
The two of them gorged on food. The man found that heating individual objects drained him far less than heating a whole room. They enjoyed a hot meal for the first time in a week. He talked out ideas with the dog, who noisily ate anything and everything put in front of her. Once they were sated, the man and dog walked back to the room he had warded. It was still as warm as they had left it, even though the kitchen had started to cool not long after they began eating.
Darkness Trilogy (Book 2): Death In Darkness Page 17
