by Alan Tucker
Contents
Dedication
EPISODE 1
1 • Abraham
2 • Neri
3 • Abraham
4 • Neri
Afterword & Other Works
Dedication
For all those who’ve supported and encouraged me, the journey has been long, but hopefully worth it in the end. Thank you.
EPISODE 1
“This is Lisa Hernandez, reporting live from the White House and the excitement here is palpable! The President just made his way onto the stage, along with the Vice President and Congressional leaders. We’re now awaiting the arrival of— oh! Here they are now. Three delegates from the alien race, calling themselves ahgralamartok. They are quite short— the tallest not even reaching the President’s chin— with large heads and dark, expressive eyes. The aliens are shaking hands with each human in turn and I can’t help but think back to the Close Encounters movie I watched as a child. According to the White House press release, this same scene is playing itself out in dozens of other countries around the world as we speak. The ahgralamartok are meeting with the leaders of every major nation on Earth, offering friendship and technological support to humanity as a whole. Shortly, the President will address the nation and give us more on the specifics of this momentous occasion…”
— From a news radio broadcast on Amalgamation Day
1 • Abraham
Abraham Black first heard the whispers the night his wife and baby daughter died in his arms.
Abraham…
The whispers had frightened him. Had he lost his mind along with his family? Were hallucinations the first indications of the Blight? He hadn’t recalled hearing that as a symptom— severe headaches and the distinctive gray, clammy skin had been the only warning signs. Death quickly followed, usually within hours. Few had lasted more than a day.
Abraham…
As that night wore on and the pain of his loss had sunk in, the whispers had become seductive. They had promised power and glory and, most of all, revenge.
Abraham…
After nearly a year of living with them, however, the whispers had ceased to frighten or seduce. They had become an annoyance.
“Hush, Demon,” Abraham mumbled.
Is that all you have to say to me after everything I’ve done for you? ‘Hush, Demon’?
Abraham rolled over and opened his eyes. Dust, stirred by his movement, twirled and sparkled in a shaft of sunlight fighting through a dirty window of the abandoned barn where he had spent the night. Farm implements, including a newer model tractor, sat unused and forgotten all around him. The concrete floor made his rest uncomfortable, but the building was relatively vermin free and provided shelter from a spring shower during the night. The clouds had evidently passed over while he slept, but Abraham heard a blustery wind driving against the western wall of the structure.
You know, the brooding, silent type might work with the ladies, but it’s a real downer for a traveling companion.
“I told you to be quiet.”
Oh, no. You don’t get to order me around that easy. We’re a team, remember? You signed on for this.
Abraham sighed, caught in the ugly truth. “A moment of weakness I regret every day.”
Speaking of weakness, you need to eat, Big Fella. I can’t sustain you forever you know.
In echoing agreement, Abraham’s stomach rumbled. He stood up and scratched his cheek, his fingers scraping through the short whiskers there. Shaking his head, he picked his way through the scattered mess of tools on the floor. Someone had come through here before him, probably months ago, maybe looking for fuel or other useful supplies. While the equipment was all essential for a life of agriculture, little of it would be helpful to someone desperately trying to escape a deadly epidemic. Abraham opened the door and stepped out into a stiff breeze. His skin prickled at the change in temperature.
Springtime in Montana was a fickle beast. Sunshine and warm temperatures could give way to clouds and snow in a matter of hours. Wind existed as the only constant, yet its strength remained as capricious as the rest of the weather. Abraham’s navy blue jacket flapped away from the plaid, flannel shirt he wore underneath. He grabbed at the jacket’s edges before remembering the zipper had broken a few weeks back. Sighing again, he scanned the horizon, squinting into the morning sun.
In the distance, beyond intermittent clusters of trees and brush, a thin plume of smoke trailed into the sky, following the wind. A mile, maybe two, he decided while absently twirling the wedding band he still wore on his finger. Its fit had loosened during the long winter. Smoke meant habitation. Habitation meant the possibility for a meal. Abraham set his feet and marched toward a potential breakfast.
So much walking! If you followed my advice more, we wouldn’t have to live this vagabond, trudge-about lifestyle.
“What do you care, Demon?” Abraham scoffed. “It’s not your feet in these boots.”
It may as well be! Do you understand the energy I have to expend to keep you upright and strong? No. You don’t. And do you convey any appreciation of my efforts?
“Why should I? The longer I live in this world, the more I think I’d have been happier to die along with my family.”
Except you didn’t. The Gray Blight spared your life, even as you watched your wife and child wither and expire from it.
“Be quiet or be gone! I’m sick of your jabbering.” The reminder hurt, like lemon juice poured over a wound that would never heal, but almost as distressing was the fact the demon had become his only companion in an increasingly lonely world.
By some reports he’d heard, the Blight had erased as much as ninety percent of the human population. No, erased was too clean a word for the carnage the plague had wrought. Abraham had encountered grisly examples of the Blight’s work on a weekly basis, at the very least, even a year later. Bodies sprawled where they’d fallen, decayed or picked apart by scavengers, especially in these rural areas where entire families had fallen victim to the indiscriminate disease. The first aliens to arrive on Earth— the Grays— claimed it hadn’t been their fault, laying blame on the Bugs, the second extraterrestrial arrivals. In the Grays’ defense, they had developed a cure, though it came far too late for most. Regardless of which alien species carried the guilt, the damage to the human race had been brutal and thorough.
I picked you because I thought you were a fighter. You’re alive for the purpose of exacting revenge on behalf of your family. Cut out this melancholy shit and get your ass in gear.
“Watch your language, Demon,” Abraham said with a growl.
Or what? You’ll appeal to God to smite me from His perch in heaven? You’ve tried that before, remember? How well did that work out? Where is your God anyway? Where was He the night your family died?
“Enough! Must you continue reminding me how far I’ve fallen?”
To be honest, it is part of the job.
“Well then, consider that job finished for the day and please shut up.”
Not unless you say my name.
“No. It’s disgusting. How did you get a name like that anyway?”
Well, not everyone can have a cool moniker like Mephistopheles or Beelzebub, now can they?
The chorus of Say My Name by Destiny’s Child played in a continuous loop in Abraham’s brain. He stopped and clapped his hands against his ears to no avail. “Quit that!”
It was so sad when Beyoncé left the group for a solo career, don’t you think?
Abraham groaned. “Pus Drinker, stop the song and shut up!”
The music quieted. Abraham grunted and resumed walking while feeling the demon grinning like a spoiled child inside his mind.
B
irds chattered in a grove of trees off to his right. The terrain of south central Montana consisted of a transition zone from the mountainous region to the west into the largely desolate plains of the east. Fences and overgrown irrigation ditches regularly obstructed his path, along with the infrequent creek, but, being on his own, he preferred to travel cross country rather than follow the roads. People generally still used the highways, either with horse-drawn carts or on foot. He sometimes saw powered vehicles— most often law enforcement or military. Few private citizens had access to reserves of gasoline after the power grid had failed around the time of the Blight. Since then, life had been dialed back a couple of centuries, with the occasional modern anachronism tossed in as a reminder of what had been mostly lost.
After a hike of twenty minutes or more, Abraham climbed over a barbed wire fence and spotted his destination ahead. A two-story farmhouse, painted an olive green with white trim, sat next to a brown, steel construction barn with an oversized sliding door, which hung partially open. Parked next to the house in a gravel driveway were a pickup truck and a four-door sedan. Weeds had grown up around the vehicles, indicating lack of use for several months. Over the course of his walk, the wind had died down to inconsistent breezes and the air held a promise of warmer temperatures as the sun rose in the sky.
Abraham removed his jacket and tied it around his waist by the sleeves as he surveyed the farm. Except for the smoke coming from the brick chimney along side the house, the scene looked exactly like the dozens of other empty homesteads Abraham had encountered in his travels.
He moved forward, boots crunching in the gravel. A dog, sleeping in a patch of sun on the modest porch, raised its head and growled. Abraham stopped several feet short of the steps and eyed the dog. Shepherd mix, he decided, as it got to its feet and continued to growl. It still bore a thick winter coat, making it appear bigger than normal. Abraham had always liked dogs. Their universally negative reactions to him— or rather to his invisible companion— dejected him.
“Hello?” he called out. “Is anyone home?”
For several seconds, Abraham heard nothing but the wind and rumbles from the dog. Then, a curtain pulled back in one of the second story windows. Reflections in the glass didn’t allow him a look at the occupant, but one side slid open and the snout of a double-barrel shotgun appeared. “What do you want?” a woman’s voice asked.
Abraham held out his hands to show he meant no harm. “I hoped you might have some work needing done… maybe in exchange for a meal?”
The shotgun wavered. “You know your way around a plow?”
“I’m sure I can manage.”
After another pause, the woman said, “The field round back of the barn needs turning. The plow’s already out there. Horse is in the barn. No funny business, I can watch you from the other side and you’d be smart not to test my skills with this.” The shotgun moved up and down.
“Certainly not, ma’am,” Abraham answered. “I’ll get right to work. Thank you.”
Keeping his distance from the dog, who stood resolutely on the porch, Abraham walked in between the house and the barn to the back side. There he saw a fenced area, perhaps half an acre in size, with a gate facing the barn. A sizable plow, meant to be pulled by a horse or ox, tilted in the dirt in the nearest corner. Wind whistled through the barn, coming through an opening, twin to the one in front. A horse nickered inside.
Abraham guessed the woman was desperate to even consider taking his help and he wondered if she were alone here. Glancing back to the house, he noted the distance was well beyond the effective range of her shotgun. She had either hoped Abraham was ignorant about the weapon, or she herself was.
Just go in and take what you need. I can protect you from her and the hound.
“Not happening, Demon.” Abraham gazed at the plow, calculating. He knew the horse would react to him in similar fashion as the dog had. “What will it cost for the strength to manage the plow by myself long enough to turn this plot?”
A lot more than if you went inside and fixed yourself a good meal.
“Answer the question.”
A week.
“Agreed.” Abraham strode to the gate and flipped the latch. He opened it enough to slip through and approached the plow.
When I said I thought you were a fighter, I didn’t mean you should be fighting me. This is such a waste of my talents and your life.
“Stop whining and do as I asked.” Abraham reached for one of the handles and power surged through his limbs. The implement felt light and insubstantial in his hands. He pushed forward, churning a deep furrow in the earth with ease.
Every time he took energy from the demon like this, he paid in life. A day here, a week there, Abraham suspected he’d spent several months of his lifespan since he had first agreed to accept the demon’s help. Sometimes he wondered if the demon knew exactly how much life he had in store, but ultimately, Abraham didn’t really care. Over the course of the past year, he had all but given up on his initial desire to strike back at the aliens who he blamed for destroying his family. If he used up his remaining life in an effort to make a few others less miserable, then he viewed it as time well spent.
And it had the added benefit of bringing him that much closer to seeing his family again.
He reached the back fence of the spacious garden plot and noted a single cow grazing in the next field. Its hip bones protruded and Abraham could easily make out the creature’s ribs. Winter had been harsh and long. This animal had been fortunate. Many had not survived. Abraham turned back toward the barn and drove the plow through the stubborn dirt, which felt more like hardened clay beneath his feet. He hoped it would yield enough nutrients to grow whatever crop the woman had in mind.
Barely half an hour later, Abraham loosened his grip from the plow and wiped his brow with a shirtsleeve. He enjoyed the workout. Simple physical exertion, even if it had been demon enhanced, focused his mind.
A low hum, or buzzing sound reached his ears over the buffeting breeze. Abraham glanced around, searching for the source as it grew louder. Finally, he looked up and saw it. At least half as long as a bus, the beast’s body was walnut brown and composed of a dozen segments, each sporting a pair of legs, which dangled as it flew by three sets of humming, diaphanous wings. Another insect-like alien, black and as tall as a man with two enormous, curved spines jutting from its back, rode atop the flying creature, just in front of the first set of wings. The pair hovered for a moment, then the rider pointed down with a short forelimb at the cow in the next field. The segmented mass of legs and wings swooped down on the hapless bovine, snaring it with three pairs of limbs and slowly lifted it off the ground. As it rose, the cow bellowed in fear.
Abraham felt rage and bloodlust rise from the demon inside him, squashing his own fright and confusion. “What do I do?”
Give me control.
“No! Just tell me how I can stop it.”
There’s no time! I promise to release you when the deed is done.
The cow’s hooves hung twenty feet above the ground and continued to climb. “All right, but only until that monstrosity is dead.”
The Doors’ Light My Fire sprang to life in Abraham’s head as he sprinted across the freshly tilled earth. He felt his lungs heave and his feet pound the ground, but he had no control over any of it. He raced to the back fence and jumped. His right foot touched the top of a post only long enough to launch his body like a missile toward the flying nightmare above him. Mid-leap, a three-foot long sword of flame appeared in his right hand and an inhuman roar erupted from his throat. The sword swept through the back two sets of wings as if they hadn’t existed, leaving only burning stumps in its wake. The creature screeched in agony and twisted in the air while letting go of its prize. Abraham’s legs curled into a tuck and he somersaulted away from the flailing insect, finishing the arc of his attack by landing lithely on his booted feet several yards away. The flier and its rider impacted with a thud, barely audible over the in
jured beast’s pained cries.
Abraham shot toward the spot where they fell, shouting in a language he didn’t know. The rider sprang to its feet and stared him down. The spines along its back spun around to the alien’s front side, revealing themselves as another set of scythe-like limbs, which it had tucked out of the way while riding its mount. It hissed and brandished its natural weapons with zeal, slashing at Abraham. His mind flinched, but his body, controlled by the demon, parried with his own torrid weapon, cleaving the alien’s appendages clean away. It clacked its mandibles furiously, the noise joining the screams of its mount, but only until Abraham removed its head on his back swing. The body crumpled into the tall grass.
“Oh, I’ve waited so long for some real action!” Pus Drinker said with Abraham’s voice.
Elated chills made Abraham’s body tingle as he stepped over to the formerly flying beast, wailing and writhing on the ground. Its limbs flailed randomly, but Abraham dodged them effortlessly, admiring his handiwork.
End it, Abraham wanted to say, but his vocal cords weren’t his own.
“But then my time will be finished,” the demon said. “I was just starting to have fun.”
Do it, Demon. You promised.
“I promised to relinquish control when the beast was dead. Maybe I should leave it alive and go find out what the woman is hiding in her house.”
The thing will die sooner or later. Then you’ll be caged and useless inside me until the day I die, I swear to God.
Pus Drinker growled. “There’s no need for that! Fine, you win. But you need to let me out more. There won’t be any humans left in the world if we don’t start doing something about all these uninvited guests.” Casually, the demon swept the sword through the creature’s head, silencing its screeches.
Abraham regained control of his body and the flames vanished from his hand. He sank to his knees in the grass and swallowed rising bile in his throat. Looking up, he saw the cow lying a few yards away, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
Aw, now that’s just a damn shame. Probably not three good steaks in that pile of skin and bones either.
