《Powerless》 Prologue: The Demons Silver Thread Alone in the hospital waiting room the child looks up at the plain-looking mister with a vacant expression. An everyday fellow, one who not only looked like a face forgotten in a heartbeat, but had turned it into an art form. Easily but not too gracefully he takes a seat next to the smaller slouched figure. ¡°I knew your father you know.¡± The adult says to the child as he settles back into the chair. ¡°He was a good friend of mine.¡± The child¡¯s eyes come into focus and he speaks his first word in two days, ¡°Liar¡± and says nothing more as his gaze remains undeterred in its¡¯ focus upon the whitewashed floor. Raising a single ordinary eyebrow, the grown-up simply asks, ¡°What was I lying about?¡± ¡°He wasn¡¯t your friend. I could hear it. I always know when people lie. That¡¯s why I know Mom isn¡¯t going to get better. That¡¯s why I know I¡¯m going to be alone.¡± Monotoned and without inflection the boy sits and offers no more. Chuckling, the man with mediocre looks and an okay haircut of medium length begins anew, ¡°He did always brag about how good you were at seeing through people. Said it made it impossible to tell you bedtime stories when you were younger. I owe him a favor you see, but I¡¯m not here to tell you what to do. No, I¡¯m here to make a deal. Your Father told you that nothing is ever free. If it is, then there¡¯s always a hidden cost somewhere. He told you that didn¡¯t he?¡± Not waiting for an answer that would never come he continues, ¡°You see I can help your mother. I can make sure she has the best of care for as long as it¡¯s needed. Here¡¯s the catch though. You gotta pay for it. And let me tell you, it ain¡¯t gonna be cheap. No sirree, you¡¯ll have to pay a lot. And here is where I come into your life. You see, I¡¯m known by Mephistopheles. That¡¯s a little long winded though, so I usually try to only say it once. You ever heard of my name?¡± His interest perked, the boy¡¯s head lifted as hope flickered across his visage. And then as if the expression was just a play of the light, it was gone, quashed by the remembrance of all his hopes that had come before. ¡°From Faust, right? The demon who made the deal? Dad told me that story. He said he knew someone like that. Said that he liked giving people what they needed while making them think they got what they wanted.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Flashing a toothy grin, the abnormally normal man showed the first thing that wasn¡¯t so ordinary and plain: immaculate teeth. Teeth that, when bared, made his grin turn from mirthful to predatory. ¡°Your father was a smart man. Now-¡° ¡°Lie¡± Cutting him off short, the child¡¯s eyes began to lose some of the spark that had been ignited by the brief mention of helping his mother. ¡°Why don¡¯t you think he was smart?¡±, he asked, curiosity getting the better of him even as he drearirly smothered it. Caught red-handed the regular fellow did what he did best: He told the truth. ¡°He often made decisions based on his heart and not his brain.¡± Hurrying along know he would lose the boy¡¯s attention altogether soon he spoke, ¡°Now, here¡¯s my deal,your silver thread if you will. I make sure that your Mother stays alive for as long as possible with the aid of modern medicine. In return, you work for me and The Boss. You¡¯ll spend the next few years training and getting on site practice before going full time but from now on you do as I tell you to. Those are your choices and I won¡¯t answer any more questions. Either you stay here, get put into a foster home as your mother withers away and dies, leaving you stuck with some crippling debt, and yes, I did look it up, you¡¯d end up having to pay the bills once she passed away, OR you walk out with me, live a life that most could only dream of, and ensure that, if nothing else, your Ma gets treated right.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not lying. Everybody lies, but you¡¯re not.¡± Narrowing his eyes, the child takes perhaps his real look at the person beside him. Limp brown hair, unfocused brown eyes, with the beginnings of a patchy 5 o¡¯clock shadow, dressed in black pants, a white-button up, and a tie hanging loose around his neck, the man looked to all the world as if he were perfectly relaxed right where he was, as if the next word out of the boy¡¯s mouth were inconsequential and that this was all done at the spur of the moment. To the hollow boy that sat there before perhaps, this conversation was entirely meaningless. But to Salem, this was everything. ¡°What do I have to do?¡± The slack jawed face of the seated devil swung back up into his predatory grin, once more flashing his pearly white teeth as he pulled out a sheaf of paper and pen. ¡°Sign here and I become your legal guardian.¡± Signing his name as best a 14-year old could he handed back the paper, tucking the pen into his pocket, hoping the devil wouldn¡¯t notice. It was a nice pen, wood and steel and a solid weight behind hit. On it was a single word. Family. Standing, Mephistopheles walked towards the door, waving for the young man to follow. ¡°You know, I think you¡¯ll get along just fine with the rest of The Family. Once I finish training you and you earn your name I think I¡¯ve got just the perfect thing. How does Belial, the Lord of Lies sound?¡± Chapter 1 Restless and resigning myself to the hateful fact that this airline designed their seats to be the antithesis of comfort, I stand up to stretch my legs before making the short jaunt to the closest lavatory. Opening the door, I position myself to make note that Beavis is making a horrid attempt at being covert while tracking my movements and Butt-head is taking a snooze. God, this is what they sent after me? Either I¡¯ve gotten sloppy and an amateur hired them for some bullshit reason or another, or someone, most likely the Triad after my most recent¡­ drop-in, is trying to make a poorly thought-out powerplay. If the latter then I guess it¡¯s time to remind them why they are clients and not partners. And it looks like dumb and dumber will make perfect examples of what happens when you toe the line. Pity, really, they look like well-trained combatants, if they just had a good teacher to show them some common sense on subtlety they could have gone far. Taking out my phone as I get situated I peek at my most recent e-mail from Dr. Gilling and feel my pulse quicken as I smile in joy and relief. Mom is going to be ok. Things are finally looking up with The Boss giving me his personal approval for cleaning up that shit-storm in China that Kai whipped up and the guaranteed cut from the weapons delivery I¡¯m about to finish off out in Morocco everything might be alright for the first time in 10 years. No more living day to day treading water and fighting to pay the next set of medical bills. No more worrying if mom is still going to be there when I come home. No more fighting for scraps in The Charity. No, I¡¯ve shown my worth to The Family, and I finally earned an endorsement from Abraxas of all people. That¡¯s an achievement that I can¡¯t wait to shove in Lilith¡¯s smug face. Making my way back down the aisle I catch a glimpse out one of the windows and take in the vast Sahara in the sunrise. A beautiful sight, really, if not for the disgusting fuck laying up against the window drooling onto his sleeve. Maybe now that I¡¯ve shown my true worth, I can convince Adrestia to give me a ¡®Promotion¡¯ so I don¡¯t have to go under radar anymore and fight for seating with everyone else. Heh, yeah, when hell freezes over, but a man can dream, right? Making it back to my seat, I steal a look at my fellow passenger. She¡¯s an Arabian beauty, with smooth tanned skin, obsidian black hair, and an outfit hints at a full-bodied figure without letting you know for sure just how luscious her curves are, reminds me that flying coach isn¡¯t all that bad. I cast one last glance at Ugg and Ook out of my peripheral and see a holster shift slightly out of the suit of the one sleeping. I quickly reevaluate my situation. How did I miss this? Maybe I really am slipping, to not notice that they had a piece. How did they get it past security? Have I been compromised? No, The Charity wouldn¡¯t use such ham-fisted measures. Maybe I ca- The lights cut out and the sounds of the turbines vanish. Confusion is quickly replaced by worry as I check my phone with one hand and use the other to snap my seatbelt on. Looking down all I am greeted with is a dead non-responsive smartphone. An EM pulse? The lights turn back on but I catch my sigh of relief as the turbines have yet to restart. Panicked murmurs are quickly rising as the commotion of the flight attendants and the confusion of those already awake stirs those that are asleep. ¡°This is your captain speaking. Please remain calm, we are having some minor engine diffi-¡° The announcement is abruptly cut off as searing bright light fills my vision and screams of the hundred or so passengers lurching awake fills my ears. My seatbelt cuts into my thighs and our altitude deteriorate at a god-awful speed. Like a popular ride at an amusement park my stomach lurches into my throat and blood rushes to my brain. A blast of wind suddenly slams my head back before I am thrown forward and my vision goes dark.
Opening my eyes, I immediately regret my decision as a band of vengeful leprechauns with cleats dance atop my skull. Groaning and clutching my head, I try to piece together what I did last night before coming to the realization that I¡¯m sitting up. In a rare moment of inspiration, I decide to think things through. I determine my next logical step should be to figure out where hell I am and how to get to the closest bar for a quick hangover cure. I reluctantly crack my eyelids once more and look around to find myself strapped to an airline seat in the middle of a desert. Well shit. Pulling my hand away from my head and into my line of sight it comes back cakes in semi dried blood. Well double shit. Closing my eyes once more and I reevaluate my headache as a probable concussion before slowly examining and assessing the rest of my injuries. A broken left hand. Sprained right ankle. Bruising to no end. Well this is just marvelous. Moving my one good hand I unbuckle myself. Slowly, and oh so painfully, I stagger to my feet, my head spinning faster than a frog in a blender. Half shuffling, half crawling, I make my way up the closest sand dune cursing my fate aloud until I realize that talking with a parched throat and cracked lips is rather painful. Making it to the top I spot what can only be the remnants of a 747 in the distance. Let¡¯s hope they fared better than me. Taking a deep breath to prepare for the strenuous journey ahead, I double over in pain. Yep, Broken ribs are getting added to the list of injuries. Woozy and disoriented from the pain and sudden movement thanks to my knee-jerk reaction, I tip over and roll/fall/flip down the dune, barely clinging to consciousness as my world dissolves into pain. Finally rolling to a halt at the bottom I close my eyes and wait for the world to stop curb stomping my miserable ass. Fuck you sun. Fuck you sand. Fuck you desert. This Airline sucks horse cock. 2/10 would not fly again. Where¡¯s my refund?
With a shaking hand, Malika reached up and touched her face, reassuring herself once again that yes, she was alive. Wiping away the tear tracks she looked around, only to immediately come to regret that decision. She shut her eyes tight as her breath quickly shortened into panicked gasps, all the while trying to fight down the hysteria welling up within her. Once seated about midway into the plane she now had an unimpeded, albeit lopsided, view out onto the desert. Miraculously unhurt, she had come awake only to find that herself lying sideways in her seat. She was the lone remainder in her row, the others likely had fallen out during the crash. Unsure of anything now except that she needed to get away from what was behind her, she unbuckled herself. Flopping down to the ground below, she fled under the sweltering sun, unconcerned with the unforgiving environment that surrounded her. Stumbling during her rushed exodus, she collapsed to the sand at the bottom of the dune; sobs racking her body. Despair overwhelmed her as the images of what she saw on the plane flashed through her mind; the dead strewn about, their faces frozen in grimaces of terror. Her breaths came shorter and faster, as her vision blurred and her heart pounded in her chest. She was no longer in control of her body as pure terror coursed its way through her. Trapped in her mind the thought of how her family would take the inevitable news flashed by. Would they find her out here with¡­ the others? or would they never find the plane, her death but a number in the wake of a fresh tragedy, forgotten in a weeks¡¯ time? Oh, god what was she going to do? She was going to die, in that moment she was sure of it, and there was nothing she could do. She was stuck out here and death would soon claim her.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. No. No. No. Please NO! I don¡¯t want to die! ¡°NO! I will not die!¡± she shouted into her hands, repeating them in hopes that she would believe them to ring true. I will not die, I will not die, I will not die. She repeated her 4-word mantra, slowly regaining control and steadying her shaking limbs with every iteration. Taking a deep breath, she reached for calm. Wiping away the fresh set of tears she tried to evaluate her situation and piece together what had happened. From there hopefully she could forge a path forward. The last she remembered she was falling asleep on a plane headed to Morocco, her layover before continuing back to the States. She was in a desert and unless things had gone wrong in so many ways worse, this should be the Sahara that she found herself in. A crash. The plane crashed. How she didn¡¯t know. All she could remember was waking to the sound of screaming before a sudden acceleration rendered her unconscious. All she had to show for it was slight bruising on her arms and legs. If she was only this damaged then maybe there were others! Picking herself up she made her way back up the slope towards the plane. Pausing upon reaching her target she sent a small prayer of thanks to the handsome man, Isaac he called himself, that had sat beside her for inadvertently saving her life. The bright-eyed rogue had been charming and had taken her coarse nature in stride, providing tit-for-tat. He had told some joke involving good luck or another, saying that it was better to be properly fastened by your neighbor, using the lead-in as a blatant excuse to come closer, fitting the belt across her lap himself. Audacious he was but now¡­ it was best not to dwell on his fate. A groan from within interrupted her musings. Failing to spot the location of the noise immediately she was nevertheless heartened at the prospect of another survivor. Finally stopping to take a good look at the husk of the former 747 she examined it in search of an acceptable path. Given her former seats¡¯ location directly behind the wings of the gigantic vessel she realized the plane must have broken apart in the sky leaving the smaller back half where she resided behind. Seeing as the rest of the plane was nowhere in sight, she sent a silent prayer in hopes that the others fared better. The 9 columns of seats stretching into the back of the plane were no longer level, rather the entire aft end laid upon its starboard side leaving a pile of luggage and bodies strewn across the former wall. Like an eerie maw of doom, it opened up before her, the contrast between the bright sun beating down outside and the shadows that lurked within making it hard to see past the first 4 rows. The former floor was now a wall separating strewn cargo left in the hull from the gruesome fate of its passengers. Steeling her resolve she began navigating her way towards the sound of labored breathing, sidestepping bodies and looking for signs of life as she went. Not far in she looked up, and brushing aside several oxygen masks, found a burly blonde man in a cheap grey suit with broken sunglasses dangling from his seat. Dried blood ran from a painful looking broken nose. Surrounded by carnage she acted on her failing nerves and reached up, flipping the latch on the only thing keeping him suspended in the air above her head. The man immediately tumbled several feet to the ground knocking Malika aside in the process. Startled by his fall she grabbed him under the arms and laborously dragged him out onto the sand. After laying him out she dropped to her knees beside him as he groaned and clutched his sides. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± Malika felt around trying to comfort the man. ¡°Stop! Jesus!¡± coughing some more the man pushed her away before reaching down as if to hold his ribs. Instead his hand whipped back out, now holding a pistol leveled in her direction. ¡°Where the cuss am I?¡± ¡°AH!¡± Starting to lose her last vestige of control, she brought her knees to her chest and stared at the barrel of the gun. She shut her eyes with hopes to force away her current situation. What did she ever do to deserve this? She only had one semester left for her Masters¡¯ and an amazing job already lined up. The sound of a cocking gun snapped her out of her reverie introducing her eyes once more to the harsh desert sun. ¡°Hey! Answer me! Where are we?¡± The man asks once more, albeit much weaker and in between labored breaths. ¡°I don¡¯t know! The Sahara I think? I just woke up and fell down and and and-¡° ¡°Christ, alright I get it, just shut up! Cussing useless.¡± Staggering to with feet and holstering his gun once more he stayed slouched over with a hand on his side. ¡°Are- are you alright?¡± Malika meekly asked, keeping away from making eye contact and staring at his side, putting into practice habits she had learned long ago for keeping unstable men from paying her too much attention. Scooting away and still acting cowed by the man before her she plucked up and asked again. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine¡± he told her forcefully, reaching up with one hand, he straightened out his nose with an audible crack and a wheeze through gritted teeth. After watching him shuffle back into the plane Malika stood up and warily headed into the cargo hold in hopes of finding some respite from the sun. Climbing over various odds and ends she contemplated her situation once more choosing to focus more on the logistical side. With a plane this large there must be bountiful amounts of food and water. Probably some medical supplies as well. Moving through she finds several crates marked as Humanitarian Relief with the logo of some obscure charity she had never heard of. Although several were locked the last one labeled medical equipment looked like it had busted open during the crash. Prying open the lid she hurriedly slams it shut once more. Those were most definitely NOT used to treat injuries. Uncertainty crashed through her as she considered the reason and nature for the crate to be here, as well as its likely relationship to the man with the pistol. Shaking her head to dispel her errant thoughts she realized that she must not have seen anything. Of course not. She had most certainly not seen a charity box stuffed to the brim with automatic weaponry. Moving further back she spotted water and food packets spread around seemed to be an elevator as well as a nearby hanging box sporting a red cross. Emptying a duffel bag, she began stuffing it with as much supplies as she could carry, sticking mainly with water, bandages, and basic medical tools. Limited though her knowledge of such things was, she had taken a few first aid courses during her college career and maybe she could find a way to help someone. Making her way out of the plane she spotted a new figure laid out on the sand, dressed similarly to the man with the gun but slightly shorter and with dark brown hair. Walking over she reached down to check his pulse. ¡°He¡¯s dead if that¡¯s what you¡¯re wondering.¡± The wheezed statement brought her attention behind her where the man from before was dragging out another body. ¡°This one though, she¡¯s still breathing if you don¡¯t mind.¡± Setting the body down, a petite woman dressed in slacks and a long sleeve, he stood back up before heading back inside, presumably to find anymore survivors. Moving to her new patient she began the best patchwork job she could as the man, she should probably ask his name, continued the search for the all too few survivors. An hour later with 7 unconscious and 3 awake, although only one, a flight attendant, was fit enough to move around, were all spread out in a now semi-cleared cargo hold. Water was spread around and food brought out. Clutching the empty bottle in her hands she looked at what remained of the original passengers. Standing up and heading back outside lest she start crying she was greeted by the face of a macabre spectre. ¡°Hiya, toots? Mind lending me a hand?¡± Was all Isaac managed to say before collapsing face first into the sand, all the while wearing his best shit-eating grin. Chapter 2 Opening my eyes, I find myself gazing into the eyes of an angel. She looks down upon me from on high, her jet-black hair creating a curtain around my head. Reaching up with my right hand, I caress her cheek and move up to taste her full, smiling lips. Or I would, if not for the fact that it feels like someone left a dozen rusty serrated blades in my side. ¡°Well guess that means I¡¯m not dead¡± I grunt out before allowing myself to settle back down. Worried, Malika looks me over, ¡°What brought that on?¡± she asks in a voice that seems more music than any spoken word. Smirking I look right into her eyes- ¡°Why because the only time I could ever meet someone like you would only be in the afterlife.¡± ¡°Jack-Ass. You just don¡¯t have an off switch, do you?¡± she chuckles back, rolling her eyes in a full circle. Moving on, I pick my head up to take in my surroundings, taking delicate care to move only my head. People are sprawled out to my left and right, all still breathing thankfully, while a middle aged Indian man checks over a pale fellow with his one good hand, his other arm wrapped in an improvised sling. Two, further into this metal tunnel, seem to be organizing what looks like water and packaged food. Realizing that we¡¯re currently in the remnants of the cargo hold I covertly make a sweep of the area, looking to see if I can locate The Charity¡¯s supplies. Spotting the 6 crates all closed tight I let out a low sigh of relief. Hallelujah, that would¡¯ve made everything so much harder if they had been opened. Might be a little late but at least there¡¯s still a chance of getting them to their destination, regardless of how unlikely that may be. Satisfied I peer out of the impromptu shelter spying a large man and a woman that looks to be wearing the last vestiges of her business attire. Both seem to be huddled around what looks to be the beginning attempts of a fire. A shock of sandy-yellow hair stops me in my tracks as I recognize the man outside, no longer wearing drapes in the guise of a suit and with his shoulder holster bared for the world to see. Well, it looks like Beavis made it out alive, wonder where Butthead is? ¡°Do you know that man? As soon as he saw you he went into a fit and blamed this whole thing on you. It took the rest of us, that could, to talk him down from pulling his gun on you.¡± Malika says shifting uncertainly, bringing to light how carefully I¡¯ll need to choose my next words. Perhaps some misdirection should suffice. ¡°No, I don¡¯t know him. I was just noticing the fact that he¡¯s carrying a gun. I didn¡¯t think you could do that on an airplane, let alone an international one.¡± Lowering my voice to a whisper I look back into her eyes. ¡°Do you suppose he¡¯s the reason we crashed? I mean what if he¡­¡± Leaving the rest to her imagination I watch as her eyes go wide as my speculations run their course in her likely adrenaline addled mind. Alerted by our conversation the Indian man walks over and crouches down ¡°Careful, try not to speak too much, you likely have several broken or cracked ribs on your left side. Your right foot has a break and from what I can tell you have a concussion. Now hold still please¡± Shining a flashlight into my eyes from left to right he gives a curt nod ¡°Excellent the concussion was minor just try not to move around too much with those ribs.¡± ¡°Could you check my hand? I¡¯m not sure about it but it still hurts something fierce.¡± I raise it up to him as he grabs ahold of it as delicately as he can manage. Nodding without too much emotion, seemingly focused on just helping and not much else, I hope it helps him cope with our situation. Running through several tests as I wince and describe what I¡¯m feeling he settles it back down at my side. Frowning he looks away from my hand to peer into my eyes. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t be too sure, honestly. At least not without some x-rays, but if I¡¯m pretty sure you dislocated your hand. I can fix it but it¡¯s going to hurt very much, and if I¡¯m wrong it will not only hurt worse, but injure it further.¡± I don¡¯t even need a second to consider this. As it is my hand is useless. It¡¯s not going to get more useless, and honestly, if it is just dislocated and he can put it back in so that I can use it somewhat I¡¯ll take it. Right now, I think I¡¯m going to need every advantage I can get. ¡°Do it.¡± I tell him before adding on an almost forgotten ¡°Please¡± Reaching down faster than I can blink a snap is the only warning I get before unadulterated pain rockets its way up my arm. Goat Fucking Monkey Manure. I forgot how bad setting dislocations hurt. By the time my mind is able to focus enough to utter out some thanks he¡¯s already moved on. Kneeling beside a man sitting up and he begins to change his bandages. Turning back to Malika at my side I send her a questioning glance. ¡°You were lucky Akhil woke up about the same time you collapsed. He¡¯s apparently a recently graduated doctor. He¡¯s been trying to patch people up as best he can. He¡¯ll keep watch over you in case anything happens. You should be fine though, you weren¡¯t out for long.¡± Answering all my unvoiced questions my strength flags, and I slip back into the land of dreams.
Grunting in irritation at yet another failed attempt at lighting a fire Jethro stands up and glares at the approaching figure. ¡°Done playing nursemaid to the devil?¡± He asks Malika, a cussing nepotism on his plans. No longer displaying the previous irritation of his presence, she instead showed a surprising amount of fear and uncertainty, sporting a weak smile she moved over to Sarah, dropping of some more torn clothes to be used in the fire. Which they would soon light. Eventually. This whole blasted trip had been a mistake, but it was the first real lead he had found regarding the fate of his comrade. Although their unit in the military had long since been disbanded, they had taken an oath as brothers-in-arms to look after one another. Just a few months ago though, Hernandez had sent the emergency signal that he was in trouble. With nothing to go on other than his last location it had been months since they rest of them had heard anything new. Until last week that is. Now he was out in the middle of the desert, stranded, and with another member of his crew dead. May Gary rest in peace. Just another price that he¡¯ll take out on the flesh of the so-called ¡®Charity''s Courier¡¯ when the time comes. Oh yes, he¡¯ll tell him where he can find the rest of this so-called Charity and then after he pulls every piece of knowledge from his worthless hide he¡¯ll show him what real pain is. He¡¯ll make him into an example to put into his Scrapbook of Sinners to show all his little friends what¡¯s going to happen to them. They¡¯d find Hernandezand in the name of the Lord they''d bring retribution down on all their heads for trying to harm one of His children.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Narrowing his eyes at the retreating figure of the Arab bitch he considered how to handle it with the rest of the people around. She was probably working with him too. He would have had a clear shot of getting some answers out of him before he passed out if she hadn¡¯t gotten in his way. He¡¯d have to watch her too, but when the time came he¡¯d carve out the skank¡­ Gotta watch myself, getting too worked up and cussing won¡¯t solve my problems. Now. I need some release though. Take the edge off. Adjusting his pants to hide the results of his fantasies he hunkered back down and gave Sarah his best winning smile. He could play nice until the opportunity presented itself. Besides he knew Sarah wanted to sleep with him. He just had to show her he wouldn¡¯t judge her sins. Yes, by tonight she would spread her legs and beg him. And if not, well, he was sure he could convince her otherwise.
Screams and gunfire shock me awake as adrenaline courses its way through my body. My hand fumbles around at my side as it seeks to pull my currently non-existent gun. Throwing off a heavy blanket and staggering up I forget my injuries in my haste. Quickly stifling my shocked cry to a pained grunt, I review the situation. The shots came from outside, meaning an external threat. Others are waking up now and starting to move around grabbing anything near them that can be used as a weapon. Seeing the faces around me, I search for the most dangerous one, coming up empty. Rushing as fast as my tattered body will carry me I head to the crates with renewed haste. The screams were those of a woman, and Major Jack-off is missing. Soooooo not good. Entering in the combination codes for the crates marked Food and Water I throw open the lids. Reaching into the first I pull out an M4 and several magazines before reaching into the latter and loading said magazines with ammunition as hurriedly as I can. I hear several more shots ring out, this time much closer, followed by loud hissing. Without time to contemplate I slam one of the magazine home with 2nd one loaded and stuffed into my pocket. Malika comes up beside me and I eye her warily. Eyes widened in shock she must not know what to make of this. Acting on a hunch I put another M4 into her arms. ¡°What are you doing?!?!¡± she manages to hiss out as I place several more magazines in the ammo box. ¡°Don¡¯t you know how to fire one of those?¡± I ask exasperated. ¡°NO! Why the hell would I?!¡± She replies quietly while still managing to sound oh so pissed. Well, can¡¯t say my hunches are always right. ¡°Then fill up those mags, we might need them.¡± I tell her hurriedly before turning around as the sound of footsteps in the sand approach. Snapping her jaw shut with an audible click, it looks like she has a thousand questions that are barely being held back before carrying out the task I¡¯ve asked of her. Ignoring all glances from the others, ranging from confused to fearful I level the barrel on the entry and prepare to open fire. ¡°Where¡¯s Sarah?¡± Someone asks, distracting me just enough to keep me from instantly firing on the figure that pops into the entry. Ignoring all of us that are sitting here in the dark I can clearly make out my stalker turning to face down the slope and fire his last two shots before the clip is spent. Tossing the gun aside as what sounds like a thousand serpents hissing in concert with a congregation of alligators reaches my ears. ¡°Dinosaurs!¡± are the only words the 2-meter-tall muscle man offers before barreling past us in attempt to get farther into the plane. Now very much concerned, I hobble out and look out in the direction he had fired. Oh man. So, it¡¯s at this point in time that I should probably start to question if maybe that head injury was more severe than the good ol¡¯ doctor let on. Or maybe I¡¯m just on one really weird trip after someone snuck acid into my coffee. Or really, I should just seriously take a moment and get a second opinion. But let¡¯s be honest here. I currently happen to be holding a fully-loaded M4 and, if I¡¯m being truthful with myself, a little shaken up by everything that has happened so far. And not 20 meters away from me with its beady little eyes boring into me happens to be a GIGANTIC FUCKING LIZARD. I¡¯m not talking about no Komodo Dragon here. I¡¯m talking about a 2.5-meter-tall, swallow a pony, kind of mother fucker, making its way to me at top speed. So yeah, I feel a little justified that my immediate response was to empty the entire mag into its brain. Especially when all it did was hunker down and look pissed off immediately thereafter. Luckily, I still had my head about me enough to load the mag in my pocket and specifically aim for the eyes until the fucker dropped dead. Right at my feet of course. Trying to catch my breath I thank Mephistopheles for his training, the only thing that kept me from needing a change of underwear throughout this entire thing. Unfortunately, Ugly brought friends. That just so happened to look up from their night time snack of dead passengers to see their equally dead compadre. Out of bullets and out of courage I shuffled back inside, making a beeline for the ammo crate. Popping open another crate I dig around before finding my prize pulling the pins on two grenades I hobble back towards the front and lob the two into the sand outside the wreckage. Diving for cover I peek back just in time to watch Yoshi¡¯s ugly step-child spew its guts across the sand. Leaving the last of the 3 to scurry over the twitching corpse and snap up a teenager with a broken leg that couldn¡¯t move fast enough, cutting off his screams with a sickening crunch. Snatching a magazine Malika¡¯s stunned fingers, I fit it in and barely manage to turn around in time to dodge a head the size of a mini cooper. Pressed up against the wall I jam the barrel of the gun into its eye and open fire, only able to get 3 rounds off before an errant twitch sends my aim wide. Not having time to pay attention to the screams of the dying I fire on the thrashing beast before it finally goes still. Heaving, panting, and wide-eyed I take the magazine, fill it with bullets once more, only to empty it on the corpse. Finally finding calm, I let out a shaky sigh of relief. Only for Sergeant Turdbuckets to find his voice once more. ¡°There¡¯s more.¡± ¡°What?¡± Akhil says in a voice several octaves higher than I previously thought possible. ¡°There¡¯s more of them. I saw them. They''re coming.¡± Dropping to his knees, I ignore him as he starts spouting off about forgiveness and retribution. Sweeping my eyes around I try to take stock of our situation. Me, Malika, Asshat, and the doctor are the only ones left. Breathing that is. A quick search in the ensuing silence finds me my luggage and a backpack that I empty of its previous owner¡¯s contents and fill with 2 pistols, spare ammo for both the M4 and the pistols, 4 grenades, a scope for the rifle, and night vision goggles, along with 2 canteens of water. Putting on the backpack, throwing the M4 around my shoulders, and grabbing the duffel bag I head out. Only to find that the adrenaline has worn off and walking absolutely fucking hurts. Apparently, broken ribs don¡¯t go well with backpacks either. Dropping the duffel bag onto the sand I head in the opposite direction in which the Scaly bastards came dragging my self-made, military grade, bug-out bag behind me. ¡°Wait! Where are you going!¡± A voice calls out behind me. Turning around I spot Malika¡¯s form in the moonlight, somehow managing to look both strong and alluring while still being unsure of the future. ¡°Away. No way in hell am I staying here. All those dead bodies? I¡¯d put money on that being what drew them here and there is no chance that I¡¯m going to stick around to find out how many more will be coming to pay a visit.¡± Turning away I prepare to shuffle off. ¡°I¡¯m coming with you.¡± She states, her tone saying she will brook no argument. Fighting down my smile I feign surprise and ask, ¡°Well would you mind carrying this? I¡¯m having a little trouble thanks to my foot.¡± Reaching over she hefts the duffel bag onto her shoulders like a back pack and we set off. Or we would of if not for the forgotten existence of two others. ¡°C-c-can I-I come too?¡± Akhil asks, struggling to find words. Sighing I look back in time to see Hitler¡¯s Youth (All Grown Up) Level one of my M4s at me. ¡°No, no. You¡¯re not leaving just yet, Belial. You don¡¯t get to escape God¡¯s retribution. So why don¡¯t you set all that down. Answer a few questions and then stay here to pay your penance." Chapter 3 ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but do I know you?¡± I ask as I slowly and ever so carefully set down my rifle and backpack. Don¡¯t want to upset the madman. I may not be able to see him from here but he is absolutely radiating crazy. Hope it¡¯s not contagious. ¡°Shut up! Hands behind your head and get down on your knees!¡± Well guess playing innocent isn¡¯t going to work ¡°You too you ragheaded whore! We¡¯ll have our fun after he gets his.¡± Now that was just unnecessary. Damn this is going to take a careful hand. Really hope the rest of those lizards are farther off than he made them out to be. ¡°Now you¡¯re going to tell me where I can find Hernandez! I know you were there in Moscow the week he vanished! And if I even think your lying, I¡¯ll put a bullet in the little hussy¡¯s head! You might be the lord of lies, Belial but you can¡¯t fool me¡± Moving closer he trains the barrel and flips the safety leaving no question as to how close he is to pulling the trigger. Ah, straight from the mouth of every 3rd rate movie villain. Oh, Jesus. Hernandez and Moscow. This fucker really is insane. Hernandez was a recent hire that was supposed to be helping us out with the Ukrainians. A few months back after a drop-off I had found the fucker doing things to an infant that would have made Albert Fish seem like a humanitarian. It was only through pure happenstance that I found out about it. Of course, before I could finish him off he started jabbering about how his old war buddies were going to tear me limb from limb. I looked into it too, and there is absolutely no fucking way they should have known that Hernandez worked for us let alone that I was involved. From the files, I remember reading this guy should be Jethro. God dammit how did I not see that before. Why can¡¯t anything be simple. Well, it¡¯s a good thing I always tell the truth. Okay, so almost always, but you can¡¯t really fault me a couple of white lies, can you? It¡¯s more of lies of omission that I ever really tell. I let them fill in what they want to hear. Besides, telling lies isn¡¯t how I earned my Name. ¡°I don¡¯t know where Hernandez is. Last I saw him he was headed out of the country.¡± In several trash bags. ¡°He would have contacted us then! Where was he headed? He must have been running from someone!¡± He growls and edges closer. He¡¯s about 2 meters from my spot on the sand with Malika. ¡°He wasn¡¯t running from anyone. He usually heads down to the Ukraine, though with whatever weapons I happen to have dropped off. If he didn¡¯t go there then I don¡¯t know where he would have gone.¡± All true, it¡¯s just that it wasn¡¯t a usual run for him. Now, c¡¯mon take the bait. ¡°Who was he going to see in the Ukraine? You know where he went! If not then you know who does!¡± ¡°Listen man, my job is to just get the guns from point A to point B. If anyone made him disappear it would probably be Mikhail Antonov, his contact in Kharkiv.¡± Hah that¡¯ll teach Mikhail to use loaded dice. I mean, it would teach him if this guy ever made it out of here alive. Which he won¡¯t. *Bang* A Bullet tears its way through left shoulder and I hunker down onto the sand. Oh man that¡¯s going to leave a mark. ¡°You¡¯re lying! You know where he his!¡± Frothing at the mouth he takes two steps closer keeping the barrel trained on my head. Oh this guy is sooooo gunna die. Hissing, guttural growls echo in the not so far distance. Jerking his head around Jethro makes the last mistake of his pitiful existence. Hastily moving my feet underneath me as I slide my left shoulder underneath the barrel I grit my teeth through the pain. As I do so I wrap my left arm around the rifle and use my right hand to grab at a knife I had stuffed into my belt earlier. Shoving the blade up into his ribcage I pull it out with a vicious twist before trying to shove it in again. My only sign that Jethro is far better trained than I gave him credit for is the hand on my right forearm and his forehead suddenly breaking my nose. Staggering back slightly I barely manage to dodge a lightning fast right-handed palm strike aimed at my face. I duck my head to the right only to find his same right hand clamping down onto the bullet wound on my left shoulder followed by two successive knee strikes to my abdomen. Twisting my wrist as he releases me, he snatches the knife out of my limp hand, allowing me to fall and tumble backwards onto the backpack. I look up to see a feral grin stretch across his face as his left-hand presses up against the knife wound I inflicted in efforts to staunch the bloody tide. ¡°I¡¯m gonna carve you up all nice and pretty, demon. I¡¯m gonna make you beg for death.¡± Moving forward he swings his foot out in a vicious kick aimed for my side. Rolling with the kick, it misses me by centimeters but his training holds and he doesn¡¯t over extend himself. The exchange is cut short, however as I roll through onto my back and fire the pistol, covertly pulled out after I fell, into his face. Collapsing in a heap into the sand he doesn¡¯t so much as twitch from where he lies. Getting up on my knees once more,I glare at Akhil and simply point at my shoulder. Still too shocked for words, he hurries over to inspect the wound, it seems like he is much more comfortable sticking with what he knows. Nodding his head, he simply puts my hand on the wound ordering me to apply pressure on it and rushes inside the plane. Looking aside I watch Malika stomp over, glaring at the fresh corpse with a furious expression. Standing there she draws her foot back and kicks him. Hard. And then again and again. The entire time she rants in what I am pretty sure is a collection of rather colorful Arabic curses. ¡°Feel better?¡± I ask as she seems to be calm down, only to immediately eat my words as she turns a petrifying glare at me. This woman is fierce! Shit she looks hot when she¡¯s mad. ¡°You!¡± pointing her finger at me accusingly, ¡°who are you?! And so help me if it is not what I want to hear, I¡¯ll-¡° ¡°I am an arms dealer.¡± Not knowing what else to say, I hope that¡¯s enough to placate her for now. She probably doesn¡¯t want to know everything else that I do. Probably not good for her long-term health either in my experience. Akhil comes out with bandages and rubbing alcohol in hand before she can ask anything else. Pouring the rubbing alcohol on the wound, much to my chagrin, he cleans up and bandages the wound as best as possible. ¡°Now you listen here-¡° Malika starts again only to be interrupted once more as some very unwelcome guest make themselves known. Across from us in the moonlight I look over and count five large figures crest a neighboring sand dune and continue in our direction. Reaching down and tossing the backpack at Akhil I put the strap of the M4 around my good shoulder. ¡°Quickly, Malika grab the duffel, Akhil come over here, I need help moving. We need to leave now, but we need to do so quietly. Hopefully they¡¯ll ignore us in favor of fresh food.¡± I order in the loudest whisper I think feasible. Previous problems now forgotten, they move like their life depends upon it. After all it just might. We make it halfway up the next dune before the sounds of snapping bones and tearing flesh reaches our ears. Leaning against Akhil I can feel him pause and shudder before redoubling his effort to get me moving. As we crest the dune a breeze hits our face and its only then that I realize how cold it is. 10 minutes later of hobbling through the sand I gesture to Malika for the duffel bag. Reaching in I quietly pull out two jackets and a compact wool blanket. Throwing the blanket over myself the other two each throw on the jackets before we silently continue going our way.
3 hours after their escape Malika allowed herself to consider living through this ordeal as an official option. She was a strong woman but she could only handle so much. Between the plane crash, the lizards, being held at gunpoint and just so much death she had had enough and had taken out her helplessness of the situation on a dead body. Although it had been the corpse of a man that had just threatened and held her at gunpoint, the memory of her actions caused her to lower her head in shame. And then Isaac, or Belial, or whatever his name is just had to act all smug like he just knew. Ugh¡­ Honestly, she really didn¡¯t know what came over her. She was just through with being unsure. The last 24 hours had just been a giant ball of confusion. So, she decided to focus on what did make sense. The plane crashed. I survived. We are fleeing. It is cold. It is nighttime and it is very cold. I think my nipples might be able to cut- stop¡­The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The doctor¡¯s name is Akhil. The other man, let¡¯s just stick with Isaac, is dangerous and a liar. Should probably stick with doctor. After all he¡¯s the one so far that is LEAST likely to have situations end in death. Right? No. No, sense questioning future. We¡¯ve been walking a while. Sky is lightening, sun will rise soon. Maybe in time before we freeze? The sun is hot. That is also not good. We need shelter. Maybe- They crested the latest energy-draining sand dune Malika almost ran into the back of Akhil. Taking short pained gasps, she reluctantly swallowed the chilly air. ¡°Hey, look. Not much longer and you can rest. Just stay with me.¡± Akhil said, slightly shaking Isaac¡¯s limp figure. Finally catching her breath, she shuffled around the two hunched figures. Following their line of sight, she took in the view of what she can only describe as pigmy mountains. A barren stretch of rock extends across the horizon, a rock-filled field the only thing separating it from the sea of sand behind them. Large, but not like the mountain ranges she knew, this had the look of a massive expanse of rock that was originally covered but had been exposed over time as the sand swept everything away. It even looked heavily eroded and worn down, though no water was in sight to have done the damage. ¡°Homestretch huh boys?¡± Malika asks before looking back and taking in the haggard pair. Isaac looked worse than ever, but still had a fire in his eyes. Akhil though, while not as bad, definitely did not look fine. ¡°Akhil how are you doing?¡± Turning his sunken eyes on her he replies, ¡°I will hold until we find shelter. We should be able to find something in the area up ahead at the very least. The more distance we put between us and those things, the safer I¡¯ll feel.¡± Pausing he took off the backpack and began rifling through it before giving up and eying at the duffel at her side. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to have any water, would you? It¡¯s cold but we¡¯ve been walking for a while and the desert air is still dry. I¡¯d feel better if we stayed hydrated.¡± ¡°Hah. Cold. Understatement of the year.¡± Isaac mumbled, pitching in his two cents before he closed his eyes and began swaying slightly. A quick search found her two 1-liter bottles, one which she handed over, keeping the other for herself. ¡°Here, take small sips.¡± Akhil instructed Isaac, slowly poured some of the water down his throat before taking a drought himself. ¡°Conserve the water as much as you can but don¡¯t feel like it¡¯s the end of the world if we drink it all. I have some good water filters in that bag and if we can find shelter we can replenish our supplies to a certain extent.¡± Isaac managed to gasp out in between shallow breaths. ¡°What all is in here?¡± She asked, curiosity overcoming her. ¡°Enough for one man to eke out an existence for around a month. If we come across anyone let me know. I have some things in there we can trade for if needed.¡± ¡°You mean other than military weapons? Oh, I¡¯m sorry I meant to say relief aid.¡± Malika bit back as her ire rose once more. Sighing, Isaac steadied himself, facing her with steely determination, ¡°Listen, I¡¯m not going to defend myself or what I do. If it¡¯s going to be a problem though the least you could do is give me a fighting chance. A bottle of water, some of the supplies from the bag, and the rifle here. You can take the rest, you and the good doctor here, and I¡¯ll be on my way. I won¡¯t deny that I¡¯m hurt pretty bad and just slowing you two down. I know I am. I also won¡¯t deny that if those scaly bastards come crawling around I¡¯m your best shot at taking one of them down.¡± Letting out an irritated growl Malika moved forward once more. Malika found she didn¡¯t really care about the majestic beauty of rocks anymore. Not when she felt the cold start to settle back in and mix with the heat of her frustration. Moving with a newly determined pace she set course for a gorge that seemed to split the rock in twain. It appeared for all intents andpurposes, as if a long dried-up river had at one time coursed its way through it. Breaking through the rock field, a small measure of relief flooded through her system as she spotted a bush at the entrance to the wide gorge. It wasn¡¯t much but that at least meant that it was at least possible for things to live here. Which was more than she could say about the landscape they had left behind. Pausing midstride she glanced behind her, only now realizing she had left behind the other two. They were still only halfway across the rock-strewn stretch of land, the only transition between sand and stone, when it occurred to her that, honestly, she had everything needed to survive. All they carried were some guns, supposedly. She had many useful things in the duffel bag at her side, even a pistol she had stowed away in her dress earlier. Somethings in the survival bag she couldn¡¯t even guess their purpose, but essentially, most of the supplies were necessary for survival. And right now, she could wander off, find shelter and live off the supplies contained therein moving forward until she found civilization. She was moving faster than the other two, even with the heavy duffel on her shoulders, and the food and water would last much longer if they weren¡¯t split 3-ways. The lizard situation was one to consider but honestly the best situation would be to not run into them at all and the blood covering the other two would most certainly draw them in. Cut my losses. After all, everyone else is already dead and Isaac is most likely to die of his wounds if his current state is anything to speculate on. Blinking her eyes, she pulled herself from her muddied thoughts with disgust. Yes, she could leave them and survive, but she would never leave those that depended on her. She would not be her father, and just cut her losses and leave in a fit of selfishness, only reasoning with twisted logic that it was the right choice after the fact. She was better than her father and she was stronger than her mother. She would stand by who she was and she wouldn¡¯t let any selfish bastard tell her otherwise. Finishing her silent rant of self-vindication, she set the bag down and went to help the pair as they struggled to maneuver the uneven terrain. ¡°Thanks¡± Akhil muttered while the only sound that escapes Isaac is a muted grunt as she wrapped an arm around his waist. Practically carrying the wounded man between them to the gorge she watched as the sky transitioned to a muted orange, signaling the rise of the sun beyond the ridge before them. They had apparently been traveling East on their arduous journey. Filing that detail away for later she grabbed the bag and flung it over her shoulder with renewed energy. Her eyes practically glowing with renewed determination she lends a hand to help the bedraggled duo across the flat, hard packed sand before them. Yes, she is crass. Yes, she is stubborn. But she would stand by those that depended upon her and be damned before compromising who she was. Besides, if she were being honest with herself, staying in control of who she was seemed to be the only thing she had control of anymore.
Cold. Cold and numb. Cold and numb and itchy But cold first and foremost. Everything is just so cold. Its dark and I just want to curl up before my balls freeze. Maybe it¡¯s the blood loss? I don¡¯t think I lost that much but you never know. Akhil looks chilly, but not the mind-numbing chill that seems to pervade me. I can¡¯t really even feel my fingers anymore. Or my feet. Or my face. Or really anything. Except maybe itchy. That I definitely feel. All over. Wherever the freezing air hits my skin seems to be the worst though. But it¡¯s there, all over, head to toe. I feel like I just need to peel my skin off before jumping into a fire. Solve both problems at once. Oh. I guess it¡¯s not as dark anymore. Kinda orangish. I think. I can¡¯t really see too well. Wonder why? Oh hey look a tree. Trees are good. I can¡¯t really remember why. I think I knew when we saw a bush. Right after the rocky place. Yeah. I hope Malika is alright. She¡¯s been helping Akhil move me for a while. I¡¯m really glad she didn¡¯t leave us. When we were walking over rocks and stuff she was way ahead, and I thought Akhil might leave me to go chase after her or something. I am slowing them down after all. They probably don¡¯t have the best impression of me either. With my injuries, it wouldn¡¯t have been too hard to just up and leave me on the rocks. Like a good Bourbon. I thought she would. I mean I probably would have. Maybe. Don¡¯t really know. I think I¡¯ll close my eyes and figure it out. That sounds like a good idea. ¡­ ¡°Hssss!¡± breathing out through my teeth I glare at Malika. Fucking bitch just hit my ribs! What the- ¡°Wake up cunt! We can¡¯t carry your fat ass.¡± Wow. Shit. She looks pretty determined. Better listen or she might poke me again. That hurt and I don¡¯t want her to leave me. That would be bad. I¡¯ll have to thank her when I get back. Don¡¯t know where she got the energy from to carry the duffel bag and help move me along. Sooooo glad Lilith isn¡¯t here. She would never let me hear the end of it. Carried along like a sack of potatoes. Man, who knew eyelids could be so heavy. Or how itchy my neck is. Damn it¡¯s like I got bit by some mosquitos on super steriods. I¡¯m so cold I¡¯m on fire. That makes no sense. Oh man. Cold and itchy. This is not the way I want to go. Smothered in female flesh? Most definitely yes. Freezing to death, shot, broken, beaten up, and sleep deprived in the desert? Oh hell fucking NO. ¡­ Wonder when the sun came up. It¡¯s getting hard to keep track of these things. I just wish it would warm up finally. I mean even- Huh. When did they take their jackets off? It feels like it has only gotten colder. And when did the ants find me? It must have been when I was asleep after the crash. That must be why I¡¯m so itchy. That makes sense. I think. You know, a lot of animals that live in the desert have a name that starts with sand. Sand fox. Sand cat. Sandgrouse. Me? I¡¯ve been here so long you can call me sandman. ¡°Hahahaha¡± Oh my god it¡¯s so funny but I don¡¯t really remember why. I turn and smile and my companions. They¡¯re so great. Hey wait. Is that what I think it is? Holy shit! We¡¯re saved! I knew The Charity would be looking for me. Thank god, they made it here so fast. They even have a campsite. I wonder who they sent. Probably none of The Family bu- ¡°MOM?!?!?!¡± Of course, she¡¯s here. She¡¯s alright. She¡¯s all better and she came to find her son. I stumble and turn to find a hand on my shoulder. What do she think she¡¯s doing?! ¡°Bastard LET GO OF ME!¡± Shrugging off Malika¡¯s hand I dash over to Mom as she waits expectantly. She looks so much better, and healthy. I can¡¯t remember the last time she looked like this. Maybe before Dad died? I knew everything thing wou- Grass. I¡¯m laying down in grass. How did I get here? Oh, I must have fallen. How did I fall? No. That doesn¡¯t matter. I just have to get up and get to Mom. Eat something get some sleep and everything will be fine. Gasping I manage to get to my knees. I look up to where Mom was but I don¡¯t see here immediately. Maybe she ran over here when she saw me fall, especially considering this large puddle was probably between us. I look only to find a tree. A dead tree with two broken limbs out to the side at shoulder height on the other side of a small pool. But that doesn¡¯t make sense. She was there, and there were tents, and I could smell food and- And then it hits me in a moment of clarity. I¡¯m going delirious. I¡¯m losing my mind and seeing things. I¡¯ve likely got some horrible sickness, and on the verge of death. An emptiness wells up within me and in consumes my thoughts, it consumes the chill in my bones, and it consumes the millions of ants under my skin. It spreads and consumes until all that¡¯s left is the tree, and then it consumes that as well. Sorry Mom. At least you¡¯re better and I already have everything set up just in case. Guess I¡¯ll tell Dad hi for you. Chapter 4 ¡°Hey little guy!¡± ¡°Daddy!¡± Bursting up from his chair in the living room, the 10-year-old boy runs up to the man as he sets down his briefcase. Picking up his son and closing the door behind him in one fluid motion the man laughs holding his only child in a tight bear hug ¡°What¡¯s up kiddo? Have you been helping your mother make the turkey? I can smell so many goods from here!¡± ¡°I made the macaroni!¡± ¡°What? You did? Awesome!¡± Setting down his progeny, he scoops up his discarded briefcase. ¡°Alright I¡¯m going to go change, so you set the table. That way when mommy finishes we can all eat. Okay?¡± Nodding his head in vigorous anticipation the youth runs off to the kitchen overflowing with joyous energy. ¡°Mom! Dad¡¯s home!¡± ¡°I heard! You know what I also heard?¡± Turning away from the oven she gives him a sly grin as he deflates and mumbles under his breath ¡°What was that?¡± ¡°I said I have to set the table.¡± He lets out a slightly louder mumble and walks over pulling out three sets of pristine dinnerware. Moving at the pace of a tortoise, the child finishes just in time for Dad to come down the stairs in more comfortable, albeit still formal, clothing and Mom to set the turkey upon the table. Taking his seat while eying the bounty set before him the imp dips a finger into one of the dishes, unseen, for a quick taste. Or at least he thought it was unseen, but that notion is quickly corrected as Mom slaps his hand away before it can reach his mouth. ¡°You know better than that, now, go wash your hands and then we¡¯ll say grace.¡± She scolds, all the while giving him the stink eye. Sullenly slinking off to the kitchen he turns the faucet to rinse his hands only to find that instead of water coming out of the faucet, all that covers his hands is a sticky red liquid that smells of iron. Frowning the boy focuses on the faucet and once more water comes out, washing his hands clean. Bright and cheery anew, he takes his place at the table, staring in gluttonous delight at his high piled plate. Looking up as he scoots his seat in, he asks his father the question that has been nagging at him all day. ¡°Dad, do you really have the day off tomorrow? We¡¯re really going on a thanksgiving vacation? Not like the other times?¡± He finishes the last part quietly reminding himself not get his hopes up. His father was an important businessman, even though he really didn¡¯t understand what it was that he did, and he could be called in at any moment. His father looks over at him with a broad smile, ¡°Yes son, I have work off tomorrow and they can¡¯t call me in no matter what. We¡¯ll be going on-¡° "" Harsh laughter interrupts as the boy¡¯s parents look around in panic. Shadow stretch and lengthen as if seeking to swallow the room. Mom lets loose a scream as hands from the darkest depths reach out to drag them into the abyss. In the center of this storm sits a child who pouts petulantly with determined eyes that speak of things beyond his years. Suddenly the shadows are gone and with it does the sharpness of the youth¡¯s gaze. His father looks over at him with a broad smile, ¡°Yes son, I have work off tomorrow and they can¡¯t call me in no matter what. We¡¯ll be going on vacation from Thursday until Sunday. That¡¯s why we¡¯re having our turkey tonight. Now, it is thanksgiving, so why don¡¯t we all say what we have to be thankful for? How about you Mister?¡± His father looks over at the hulking demon at the suddenly longer table. Baring its¡¯ fangs in a malicious grin, the demon stares down at the child across from it, ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what I¡¯m thankful for. I¡¯m thankful for this opportunity to have found someone with such a tasty soul.¡± Unhappy with the turn of events the child sulks in front of his meal ¡°I was rather enjoying death.¡± Exhaling an irritated puff of breath, the moment is ruined. This is but a memory of a Thanksgiving dinner that could have been. Waving my hand, the world falls away at the gesture. Now, a boy lost in a fantasy exist no longer as I take his place, conjuring a table I place it between me and the intruder. ¡°Now that the dream is thoroughly ruined why don¡¯t you tell me what you¡¯re here for? Drag my soul down for my sins? Or test me? Consider your words carefully I know your hold isn¡¯t absolute and I will not go quietly in the night.¡± Wearing a momentary expression of wonderment, the frightening beast of horns, claws, and fangs smiles as his form on ripples, distorting his features. In his place is the calm figure of the only person I¡¯ve ever truly feared. ¡°Hmmm perhaps this is the more appropriate form to take? You knew this man as Abraxas, yes? Interesting. Don¡¯t worry you¡¯re not dead and I¡¯m not here to take your soul. You still lack one. Though you are something of a conundrum. You see, rarely does one exhibit the willpower to consciously alter their Baptism, let alone recognize that I am not part of it.¡± ¡°You disgrace his memory.¡± Swiftly waving my hand, I focus on imposing the image of a white-haired comely gentleman in a pinstriped suit. His eyes, however, are a perfect black, from which no light escapes. The only thing that keeps me calm is that he doesn¡¯t seem to actually be Abraxas. While I wouldn¡¯t put it past the man to actually be a demon, that The Boss would actually be here, like this, is preposterous. Unless that¡¯s what he wants me to think. ¡°There. Now you look like a proper demon.¡± ¡°A proper demon?¡± comes the soothing voice of the fiend before me. ¡°Yes. A proper demon. I¡¯ve always thought of demons as more of creatures of freewill. Why would something that needed you to willing stray from the grace of God come spewing fire and brimstone? No, I find it far more likely that they would come as saviors from our troubles; offering happiness in human form. That they would not offer supernatural solutions but rather the mundane. After all, there¡¯s something that everyone would trade their souls for. You just need to find the right presentation, like, say a dear trusted friend that might be able to save a loved one¡¯s life. That kind of thing. But then again your no demon.¡± There, I¡¯ve played my trump card. No Idea if I¡¯m right but I know entirely too little about what¡¯s happening. At least if he¡¯s telling the truth I¡¯m not dead. Yet. ¡°Depends on your definition of demon. My actions will soon bring calamity to your world, just as they have to many others before and it is now that I bring these tidings. That makes me a demon in most people¡¯s book. These are tidings which few will hear and none will remember.¡± Slowly and patiently the man before me says these things as if he has told them a thousand times before. As if that¡¯s not disturbing at all. ¡°The world would stand or fall because of you? Please how could you possibly be the cause of the Apocalypse?¡± End of the world? Wonderful, it¡¯s officially worse than being dead. I¡¯m crazy and still fucking hallucinating. ¡°I had a friend that said something similar once, a long time ago.¡± A distant recollection brings a sad smile to the man¡¯s face before he refocuses on me, ¡°We are not here, however, to discuss how I brought ruin to many, nor is this the end of your world. More of a rebirth, if you will.¡± ¡°Oh? What, then pray tell, are we here to discuss, sphinx?¡± Bastard, so cryptic and unrevealing. Like a hooker with Herpes that¡¯s still trying to get you to fork your money over before you find out. Well he¡¯s in my mind, might as well see whrere this leads to. ¡°Hahaha, forgive me, forgive me. It has been a long time since the last I held a conversation. Yes, you are the first in millenia to recognize me for what I am. Usually I am only capable of guiding the growing powers within those grasping for survival. It has been a long time since I last found someone as to recognize the illusion for what it is, and not seek to alter it when pushed. Even rarer is one that seeks to leash me and not simply expel them from their mind.¡± ¡°Oh? Well I guess the gig is up. I suppose I should have guessed with how easily you took my adjustments. So, what happens next?¡± Damn that was my last gambit. Not a fan of foreign uncontrollable mind entities. Who would¡¯ve guessed? Maybe more so if it¡¯s all a product of my imagination. It felt foreign in my dream and after I realized I couldn¡¯t just get rid of it I thought slowly resting control from whatever he is would help, gradually making my way to who this thing is. So much for that. ¡°My power is still limited here but I have more control over the nature of your progress than most. I understand you probably think this is all simply a product of your subconscious, yes?¡± I nod tentatively and he continues, ¡°Seeing as how you¡¯re already here, why don¡¯t you simply play along? Either it is a hallucination and you gain nothing but lose nothing as well, or my words will strike true and the opportunity for gain will be in your grasp. Either way you will not remember what happens here. If you believe nothing else, believe this.¡± Well shit. That made sorta made sense. I guess this is the beginning of the fall, ¡°Alright, say your piece.¡± Standing up from his chair a cane appears in his hand and the emptiness that surrounds us is replaced by a field of ash. The scent of charred flesh reaches my nose and I fight the urge to vomit. Something moves in the distance but I can¡¯t make it out through the smoke.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°I will not waste your time with the why of things. I will tell you what is happening to you, however, for that may help you best help yourself. Right now, power is gathering in your body and you have a chance to direct it. In most people undergoing The Baptism, this power remains untapped, leaving it as it will. They have the same potential as anyone else but simply remain open to all things equally. Occasionally, some will influence it as it forms. Shape it to what they will. This is where I step in. Many factors are involved in how the energy inside you manifests, from your surroundings, to buried trauma, to even simple luck. I find those with potential that are changing and make sure that they have less¡­ disastrous¡­ outcomes.¡± As he speaks the smoke parts and a twisted figure, so grotesque my mind draws a blank as its gnarled and blackened limbs hold what appears to be a human limb up to its toothy maw. Like the smoke around us the scene twists and breezes away replaced by a study with large comfy chairs and a window that looks out onto bright sunlit fields. ¡°Typically, my ability to influence is limited but you have the benefit of a great deal of my influence. I cannot do the impossible though, all of you children are given the same amount of power to alter your reality. How you choose to manifest it is another matter entirely. I will lend you aid in choosing how it manifests, but!¡±, He turns on me, grinning from ear to ear, ¡°there are conditions! It has been too long since I was in another¡¯s company and I wish to play a game of sorts. You may ask any question but I will only answer 10 of them. Of the 10, 9 of my answers will be true, and 1 answer will be a falsehood. The rest of the rules are yours to discover!¡± Excited the old man flings away his cane and, in a surprisingly spry gesture for a man of his apparent age, jumps clicking his heels together. I find myself now dressed in fake chainmail complete with gauntlets, a tunic, a shield and a scabbard at my side. Looking around, I find an old man stooped at the foot of a decrepit wooden bridge that spans a mist shrouded gorge. His face is obscured with hair that seems to not have been cared for or cut in decades, all that peeks out are unseeing milky white eyes. ¡°What the hell is this supposed to be?¡± I ask. ¡°This is the bridge of death and I am the old man from scene 24, the Bridgekeeper. Should you wish to cross and claim what you are bereft, you must answer me, these questions 3. 9 answers left.¡± Croaks the gravelly voice. ¡°What is your name?¡± No, this won¡¯t do at all. This is my mind and my turf. I do want answers to my questions and this must be to just keep me on my toes. The scene changes once more, but this time at my bidding and we are now sitting across from one another at a poker table. ¡°You have no appreciation for the classics.¡± Says the frowning old man ¡°Which answer shall be a lie.¡± ¡°I do not know, I think I shall decide as I go! 8 answers!¡± he replies with that damn grin like he knows something I don¡¯t. Well at least as far as I could tell he wasn¡¯t lying. That might be the only thing I can rely upon. ¡°Was your previous answer a lie?¡± The scene changes once more. I can feel it this time before it happens, but I am too late to stop the change. This time I¡¯m wearing a blue dress. Ok now I¡¯m fucking pissed. A massive purple and pink striped cat looms before me lazily in a tree, sporting a grin that stretches around his face in a crescent. Now this is something that¡¯s straight out of a horror flick. ¡°Yes and no. You see, I did know, but oft I can¡¯t remember what I did last December. I do have some future recollections but I just can¡¯t seem to find the directions.¡± His smoky voice fades as I struggle and hastily bring back the table and the old man with eyes that stare into the abyss. It¡¯s faster this time. ¡°7 answers left.¡± I must keep it like this. This will be my only chance to tell which are truths and which are lies. If I can¡¯t tell here then there is absolutely no way I¡¯ll be able to tell with him changing things. I¡¯m confident in my abilities but I am no fool. ¡°What is the Baptism. You referenced it before.¡± I¡¯m prepared this time and I can feel the shift. I exert my will focusing on the current view before me, but my will is like waves crashing against an unmoving mountain. A younger man that seems to have an unhealthy obsession with question marks stands before me in a garish green suit and a cane with the afore-mentioned symbol at the end. I don¡¯t give him time to answer though and as soon as the hold on the world around recedes, I force everything back to what it was. ¡°The Baptism is simply the word that your people will give it. At least those that survive. A sickness, a disease, It seems you¡¯ve caught the flu. A blessing, a curse, Your world begins anew. A new world, a new opportunity, For wealth, they come conquering. A new world, a new home, By chance beasts come settling. Spaniards all, history repeats A pox is brought and death many meet. Struggle and live And you will find power yours to bend. Relax and die And find your struggle at an end. A mundane sickness now blessed, The Baptism is a boon. A mundane disease now cursed The Baptism is a bane. Incans and Aztecs Learn from their fate And maybe your actions will not be too late.¡± Cryptic, but what does smallpox have to do with it? Is someone invading? Who is invading who? And how is it supposed to be affecting me? Okay so maybe the reason why I was so messed up was because I¡¯m undergoing this Baptism? Which is apparently a disease of some kind. Well that explains my symptoms from before I passed out. But power through sickness? It seems like a lot of doublespeak and that I¡¯m not the only one going to be going through this. The worse part is I didn¡¯t detect any falsehood. A tide washes over a part of my consciousness and I immediately know he trying to change things again. Keep me off balance. This time though I don¡¯t try to stop him. No, I simply follow the tide and redirect it as it goes along. It works. Sort of. I find that this time my clothes are not changed. I¡¯m still wearing a fresh-pressed suit, and the edges of the landscape are hazy. Almost like they¡¯re not fully formed. ¡°6 answers left.¡± The sphynx before me says. Smiling I can feel my hold on this scene is different, and I doubt I can change it without great effort. Time for a different tactic. ¡°What is your favorite color?¡± The beast before me blinks several times as if uncertain how to respond. Probing I find a weakness and immediately exploit it, breaking the sphynx¡¯s hold and reverting everything back to what it was. The man looks across at me stunned and then smiles ferociously. ¡°It has been a long time since I have had a chance to talk with someone, but it has been even longer that someone has challenged me at my games. I do not see things as you do however. I would say that my favorite color is the smell of fresh cut grass, but that would make little sense to you. The closest thing to your senses would most likely be lavender. 5 answers left.¡± Sweat breaks across my brow as I struggle to hold onto this image. Making sure there is no leverage for him to break my hold on our surroundings. I stay wary of his influence as much as his words. ¡°Earlier, you said that I still lack a soul. Why?¡± ¡°Open-ended question. Not bad, however, the answer is simple. The Baptism is not yet finished and you had none to begin with. At least nothing your kind would call a soul.¡± Great. More questions. Smiling like the cat that caught the canary he lifts a glass to his lips that wasn¡¯t there before, drinking a liquid I did not dream up. He¡¯s still probing but I can barely feel it. I¡¯m losing and he knows it. ¡°4 answers left.¡± ¡°What is the cause for my sickness?¡± ¡°A virus carried in the blood of those Marvishta you killed earlier. Not exactly a potent or even deadly thing, but then again, your body has only developed defenses against mundane disease.¡± My strengths fades and I release hold of the surrounding feigning a look of shock at the information. Instead of fighting the change though this time I follow the hand that is molding the world around us. What stands before me is a projection, not the real thing, I can feel it somehow. If I can trace it back to the source maybe I can come out on top. This is my domain, and his touch is distinctly different from everything here. My surrounding stop rippling before I can finish my task and I finally take a second to ponder his answer. He has used the word mundane several times now, signifying things that are mundane no longer. Those giant lizards, the Marvishta, certainly didn¡¯t seem very mundane. Magic? Spirits? Maybe he is a demon. A small twisted figure stands before me now amidst a pile of straw in a windowless stone basement cellar. In it¡¯s right hand it holds threads of gold and the only other object in the room is an ancient spinning wheel. ¡°3 answers left.¡± An iron grip is on the windowless, stone room we find ourselves in. Outside of this room, though, I can sense is not under his attention. I dismiss everything outside and watch for a reaction. I observe none. ¡°What are these powers you can supposedly guide?¡± Not waiting for his answer, I decide to set him off balance, and try to get everything back under my influence. So, I take a page out of his book and simply modify a piece of what is here inside the room. Going for simple chaos above all else I simply light the hay on fire. ¡°Reality twists and-AH!¡± His attention is diverted but not enough to release his hold. I need him to try to shift things so that I can find where he¡¯s coming through. I act on a hunch, given his figure and the pattern I¡¯ve observe so far. A door appears, opens up, and in rushes a young woman in fine medieval clothing. The small figure finally made his way out of the burning heap, golden threads still clutched in his hand, and takes an incredulous look at the weeping woman kneeling before him. ¡°Please! Please give me my daughter back! I¡¯ll do anything! All the gold you want! Please just give my daughter back Rumpelstiltskin!¡± Astonishment flickers across his face and then he¡¯s gone in a puff of smoke. Reforming the poker table once again I observe as the figure of the old man shimmers into view. Shaking his head in disbelief he reaches up to his mouth and makes as if to drink from a glass just as he did before. Except this time there is no glass. ¡°Well... I believe myself properly beat. Excellently well done. I figured you¡¯d use the environment at some point but I never guessed you¡¯d use my own form against me.¡± ¡°Everything has rules. You just need to determine whether they apply.¡± I finally got a firm hold on him after he disappeared, and now he holds no sway here. There shall be no magic or mischief. Only words. ¡°Now I believe I am due an answer.¡± ¡°Yes, yes indeed. As you are the victor here is your answer. The powers you shall gain can be anything. Others shall have them as well but essentially it is my hopes that they shall help you survive. Think of them as your own personal superpower. Just be careful what you wish for. 2 answers left.¡± ¡°Did you alluded to invaders that will spread what I assume will be a biological weapon?¡± ¡°You are mistaken. The invaders will be the biological weapon. You are not the first world to be changed nor will you be the last. The invaders are those that have long ago adapted to the change and just as the Europeans brought smallpox to the New World, so shall they bring strife to yours. 1 answer left.¡± I think I have my answers now. The best way to not just ensure survival but thrive. Now to wrap this up. ¡°Will you be visiting again mister¡­¡± ¡°Ah, no, you won¡¯t be seeing me again. And as to my name, well why don¡¯t you just call me Dream.¡± His lie! I found it. A twitch and achange in tone. Subtle, in fact it almost seemed like he was irritated more than lying. I¡¯m not even sure he knew he was doing it and apparently, he believes we¡¯ll be meeting again. Interesting. ¡°As to this power? I¡¯d like to decide on what it is.¡± ¡°You already have. Like I said I merely guide it there. Quite fitting if I do so say myself. To strip one of their powers, of their Lies. Don¡¯t worry I cleaned it up a little bit so that you might be able to aid your allies. It seems our time is at an end. I sincerely wish you good fortune and hope you enjoy the rest of your dream.¡± And then he is gone. And so is Belial. All that remains is a small child by the name of Salem, sitting at a table enjoying thanksgiving dinner with his family. Chapter 5 They had made it. Relatively. They had finally found shelter and water, two of the most important things in a desert and they had found it. Or Isaac had really. Malika took another look at the two despondent figures laid out in sleeping bags, both still shaking like a leaf The sun had risen along their journey but as they continued, Isaac only seemed to get worse, as the air got warmer, he seemed to get colder. They were all tired by the time the sun had risen but Isaac had seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, his feet dragging along behind him at some points. Then to make matters worse his breath had come in shorter and he had taken to scratching at his skin with vehemence. At first lightly and only on places where it looked like perhaps some of the lizard gore had stuck to him. Then as time progressed it seemed to spread in area as well as intensity, almost to the point she suspected he would soon draw blood. She would have asked Akhil earlier about it except that he as almost in the same shape as Isaac was. Eyes sunken, shivering even under the first rays of the Sahara sun and idly scratching at his cheek. Then out of the blue Isaac had started laughing maniacally, stood up straight, and eyed a tree on the other side of the canyon. It was dead and withered but still stood above a rather thick patch of the high grass that had started showing up sporadically. Uncertain as to what to expect, she had maintained a grip on him as his quiet mumblings turned to shouting. Before she could react he had taken off, sprinting before collapsing into the grass. By the time they had made it over there he was already passed out in front of their current location: a large pool of water hidden by the grass with a cave behind a dead tree. It wasn¡¯t until they were in the cave that she realized how truly dire their situation had been. She had just finished emptying the rather impressive contents of the duffel bag when the pained whimpers of Akhil reached her ears. Sitting in a corner in the cave he had sat upright scratching all over his body, blubbering something about ants. She had come over to ask what was wrong but before she could make a move he had already hopped up and rushed into the pool outside. Startled, she had rushed out only to find his still form in the water. Dragging him out and performing a frantic CPR session had gotten him breathing again. It was enough to ease her panic but not her worry. Stripping him of most of his wet clothes (she left him his dignity), she had put the two into the sleeping bags and set about taking inventory. That had been an hour ago and as the sun climbed higher she realized just how cold she was. She felt that strange considering that she could see the heat wafting up off the sand outside in the canyon. Shaking off her feelings of unease she set back to task, attempting to set up the small tent inside the cave and staving off this seemingly unnatural chill. She had already confirmed that they had approximately a liter of clean water left, several packets of dried food as wells several freeze-dried meals, clothes, a collapsible shovel, minor hygiene supplies, fire-starter, a small tent, tarp, a wool blanket, two sleeping bags, and the list went on. Some of the things she couldn¡¯t really identify with her limited knowledge. She just hoped she could stay alive until the other two woke up and got better. She didn¡¯t know how to help them. The most she could do was light a fire to warm them and herself up and maybe set up the tent. Finally figuring out the method of spreading out the poles, she finished the tent. Opening it up she dragged the two prone forms inside, set up the tarp on the front of the cave and climbed inside the tent herself. Closing it shut she poured more water into the mouths of the two men ever so slowly while reaching up to scratch her neck in attempt to get rid of an itch that seemingly didn¡¯t want to leave. Tired and exhausted she grabbed the blanket and tried to sleep herself, only to have the infernal itching slowly ratchet up in intensity. Climbing out she got up and stumbled into the shallow pool outside and tried to wash herself in vain. Freezing and itching she dried off and climbed back into the tent and curled up into a ball seeking some respite. Crazed and manic, shivering and shaking from the sensations crashing through her body in waves, she struggled to hold onto any semblance to sanity. At the peak of her suffering though the itching fell away abruptly. Dazed, cold, and bone-weary, she moved as close as she could to the source that seemed to push away the prickle on her skin. Coming as close as she could she surrendered herself gratefully to unconsciousness.
¡°Jessica!¡± ¡°Malika!¡± Running up to her friend, the pair wrapped each other up in a hug. ¡°Malika! How was the trip over? With how late your plane was they didn¡¯t have to refuel half-way over to compensate for your big tush did they?¡± ¡°Haha, it¡¯s good to see you too. I actually don¡¯t know. Something about technical difficulties on the way over or something, I was honestly asleep through the entire thing. But if you want to hear this crazy nightmare I had about-¡± ¡°Alright, alright, shut up before you bore me to tears, we¡¯ll have to stop by the hotel after the tour to drop of your luggage.¡± Loading up her suitcase, she hopped into the passenger seat beside her best friend. They hadn¡¯t seen each other in almost two years since Jessica had joined the Peace Corps. It was only through good fortune that Jessica was returning home at the same time as Malika finished her internship in Saudi Arabia and they had made plans well over a year ago. Plans that got canceled though she couldn¡¯t remember why. Well, it didn¡¯t matter she was here and their week in Casablanca was to be a time of much needed relaxation and fun. Starting with a quick tour of the city to get them acquainted with the city. Buckling her seatbelt, she brushed her hands against one another, knocking off the sand that seemed to cling to everything. Pulling up, they both get out and headed to the ticket booth with only 5 minutes to spare. ¡°Malika?¡± Turning around as Jessica picked up their tickets, she found herself in front of a woman she had not seen in years. Or was it yesterday? Brushing aside those questions she reached over and pulled her mother into a warm embrace. ¡°Mom! It¡¯s so good to see you! We thought you¡¯d never make it!¡± ¡°C¡¯mon it¡¯s only 10 minutes before the Savanna tour starts.¡± ¡°Hey, ya twat, what¡¯s holding-¡° Pulling away from my mother I brush off the clinging sand from her and turns on her friend with a strained smile, ¡°Jessica! This is my mother, remember?¡± Shaking with mirth, her mother gave them both a bright smile, making her seem to outshine the world around her. ¡°It¡¯s perfectly fine dear. It¡¯s just so nice to finally meet your friend.¡± ¡°Ah, um yes. Indeed.¡± Now looking distinctly uncomfortable Jessica simply does an about face and stiffly walks off to the tour bus with the other two closes behind her. Loading up onto the bus the driver starts up the engine and a woman climbs up into the cabin with a microphone in hand looking like the happiest person in the world. ¡°Good morning everyone! Welcome to the Savanna tour group! My name is Nadia, and I¡¯ll be your tour guide today! Just a little heads up we will be stopping for lunch to meet up with a partner group in a village. Alright let¡¯s roll out!¡± As the bus starts moving, the wind picks up outside the window dusting the surroundings in a thin layer of sand. ¡­ ¡°If you¡¯ll look out to your left you can see an ostrich about to be eaten by a llama, quite the chase.¡± The all-too-cheerful guide says while gesturing out the window. ¡°Alright everyone, we have arrived at the village and if you would just follow me we can go eat lunch!¡± I stand up and stretch my legs from sitting for 4 hours, no wasn''t it 5 minutes? The Savanna was beautiful and a wonder, but there just seemed to be an edge to it she couldn¡¯t described. It called out to her but not in the way she found pleasing.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Hey, quit pussy-footing around and keep up.¡± Jessica turned around with a grin. It hadn¡¯t taken long for Jessica to relax around mother. It had only taken some good-natured teasing from her mother to break the ice and before long they were throwing quips back and forth. Shaking her head, she cast aside her ruminations and moved to catch up with the group. Coming up on the center of a small village she found the guide and a similarly dressed man handing out bags. Coming up she reached forward to grab her food only to have a small child jump ahead of her. ¡°Hey, hey mister! Don¡¯t I know you?¡± An older man stood before her now with eyes of the darkest black she had ever seen, as if the pupil had expanded to take up the entire eye and then collapsed on itself. He was standing where the woman had been handing onto the bagged lunch she had just been about to reach for. ¡°No, and I don¡¯t believe this is your food line.¡± The man spoke in a cheerfully femine, yet at the same time a strained masculine, voice that seems at odds with his stoic figure, almost as if the man and the woman were having troubles coinciding with one another. ¡°Liar! I know when people lie and you can¡¯t fool me!¡± The boy retorted. His voice, with his light brown hair striking a memory in her. One she couldn¡¯t quite pull up. ¡°You¡¯re Dream!¡± At this the man¡¯s eye twitched and he seemed to be barely keeping a lid on his annoyance at the name. ¡°Son, quit bothering the poor woman, just grab your grub and come eat.¡± A tall man stands off to the side with a woman, having picked up on the other man¡¯s (wait woman''s?), irritation. ¡°I haven¡¯t gotten enough to eat for this to qualify as a Thanksgiving vacation.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The youth grabbed his lunch and hurried off but a feeling of unease built within her. Where was she? Wasn¡¯t she supposed to be in Casablanca? No, but neither was Jessica. And why did everyone look so¡­ dull. It seemed that aside from the people she spoke to everyone else on this weird trip was bland, almost cookie cutter, but that didn¡¯t make sense. And her mother. When was the last time she had seen her this happy? No none of- ¡°What lunch would you prefer?¡± The super cheerful, albeit now slightly forced, woman in front of her brings her attention back to the important things. It was lunchtime and she WAS hungry. ¡°We have vegetarian, chicken, or beef.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take beef please.¡± Grabbing the sack, she looked inside and found plenty of food for lunch. Perhaps too much for even her ravenous appetite. ¡°Oh, and just so you know I think your companions went to go chat with the passengers of the other tour.¡± ¡°Oh, ok thank you!¡± Moving off she quickly spotted a large gathering of people. A quick search turned up Jessica and her Mother, talking to a man with his back to her. Coming up on the group she gasped in shock. ¡°Hello daughter. How was the internship?¡± Her father asked with a dashing smile. Sitting down in the impromptu circle she simply nodded her head, gathering her words. It had been so long since she last saw him. Now that he was here they could be a family again like she remembered. Sure, her parents had a rough patch but now they were here and happy. Finding her words, she replied, happy to share, ¡°It was good and went really well. They have a lot of funds for their projects and I¡¯ve basically been guaranteed a job after I get my MBA.¡± Deciding her course of action she figured she would go out and catch up with Jessica while her parents worked things out. After all she and Jess had so much to catch up on. Why hadn¡¯t she seen her more often? As she finished those thoughts a strong gust of wind blew through and around everything. The world around her seemed to obscure and erode. Sputtering out the grit she wiped her sand-crusted eyes and watches as the wind blew the sand from the three figures around her. The woman, Debra, is her name, remained where her mother sat. Sad and beaten down by life, only a husk remains of what was once her mother. I see this woman often, but I haven¡¯t seen my mother in years. ¡°Jinan! Come! We we¡¯re just leaving this filthy Kafir.¡± Standing up the man who was once my father calls for his new wife and walks away his face twisted in a twisted in scorn. Looking my way, his eyes harden further, ¡°Daughter, you will come with me and leave that stupid cow like I told you to before. Come, this is for your own good for you have strayed from Allah.¡± No this isn¡¯t what was supposed to happen, not at all. Why did she ever think they could get back together? These people were not them, her parents had left her many years ago. ¡°Jess, c¡¯mon, why don¡¯t-¡° ¡°My name is Sarah, dear. I swear, I know we just met, but could you at least try?¡± Looking over where Jessica sat a different woman about my age sits there, a chicken sandwich in hand. Of course, Jessica¡¯s not here, she died 9 months ago. I went to her funeral. Why would I think she was Jess? Leaving her lunch, she jogged back to the bus, seeking escape from this nightmare. As she sat in her seat, she found everyone else already aboard with Debra sitting across the aisle. The guide in her mockingly joyful tone announced that the second half of the tour was beginning. Not trusting herself to keep calm she looked away from Debra¡¯s lifeless eyes and gazed out the window. As the wind picked up outside the dust and sand slowly obscured everything. Closing her eyes, she can feel the sand and wind slide across her skin, her face, her very being. It sought to erode who she was, scrape away what she could be, layer by layer. It sought to make her hollow like her mother. It sought to erode the good in her like her father. It sought to take all, to claim all for the barren wastelands of the desert. Malika fought and resisted. She trudged through the sandstorm unyielding. Then she realized the truth. The sand didn¡¯t seek to take, no it simply exposed. It would tear away what was there and expose what lay underneath. It wouldn¡¯t change her, just as her parents never truly changed. The sand washed over them and found they didn¡¯t like what was exposed. And even what the sand did claim, it never really changed. It just became smaller pieces. She stopped fighting the sand. She knew who she was. It could expose it all. She would never truly change. She laid herself bare before the wind and dust, felt it expose and strip away. Then when time wore on and it took her piece by piece she didn¡¯t seek to slow it down and preserve herself. No, instead she embraced it and welcomed it, for like her, the dunes would be eternal. She would shift from day to day, business meetings would be different from relaxing with friends, just as from day to day the winds shaped and sculpted the dunes. But when the sun rose the next day, she would still be herself, just as the dunes would be there. She stood there, another dune in the desert. Eternal. Opening her eyes, she sat in a restaurant in Casablanca. Across from her, were her parents, united once more, and beside her sat Jessica, happily eating the appetizers as if it were her last meal. The tour guide, no, their waitress came by and dropped off their meals but not before turning to Jessica and giving her a sad smile. ¡°I sincerely wish you good fortune and hope you enjoy the rest of your dream.¡±
A Headache. I seriously need to stop waking up like this. You know it¡¯s bad when you¡¯re hoping that it¡¯s a Hangover. I have a feeling that hope will be dispelled as soon as I open my eyes though. At least I feel relaxed. Sort of. I mean, my muscles still ache, I¡¯m still cold, so probably fever, I have a headache, and I¡¯m so dehydrated my throat feels like sandpaper, so yeah. I¡¯m fine. At least I¡¯m not itching, there¡¯s that. Huh. There¡¯s something on my chest though. I suppose that¡¯s worth a look considering how painful that is to my ribs. Oh. She looks so comfortable. I wish I felt that comfortable. Why is she even laying on my chest to begin with though? I feel like it would be a crime to move her though. Well, guess it¡¯s a good thing a criminal is what I am. Oh, that is sooooo much better. What¡¯s this? She looks like she¡¯s uncomfortable now and she doesn¡¯t even have a sleeping bag? But those worries are for guys with a conscious and my spot is oh so warm and comfy. Shit. I guess I do still have a conscious. After moving her inside my sleeping bag and grabbing some extra clothes to help sweat through this fever I glance give her some water before scooching over to Akhil. Here I pause though. He just seems¡­ off. I mean yeah, he¡¯s looking pretty pale and there¡¯s that awful rash all over his face, and his breathing is pretty shal- oh. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s breathing. That¡¯s not good. Check his pulse and¡­ pull my hand back. No need for a pulse, he¡¯s dead. His body is cold, and not like I¡¯ve been in the walk-in freezer too long. Extra sleeping bag now I guess? Nope, I still don¡¯t feel better about this. He seemed like one of the few legitamately good-natured people left in this world. Doctor down and two patients sick. Why does nothing go right when I wake up? At least I packed a shovel. Moving the body out I decide that burying a dead body is:
  1. Going to take a long time to do when you have broken ribs and a mangled foot
  2. Not a good idea to do near where you get clean drinking water and
  3. An absolute necessary thing to do thanks to giant man-eating reptiles
So after filtering out some water to refill the canteens, eating some of the food, and dragging Akhil¡¯s body a good solid 100 meters away from the cave I set about to digging a grave for Akhil with my little collapsible shovel that was originally meant more for easing the discomfort of shitting outdoors. Luckily the sun isn¡¯t very high in the sky and the canyon is mostly shade. I just hope I can dig it deep enough before nightfall. I plan on a deep hole though, the last thing Akhil deserves is to become Lizard chow. It takes me until nightfall before I¡¯m standing in a hole as deep as I am tall. I would dig it deeper but I can¡¯t at the moment. Not without a way to keep the sand steady and not collapsing on me, as well as a second man to help move dirt and get me out when we¡¯re done. Dropping his body into the hole I hurriedly fill in the hole as the temperature drops faster than your grandma¡¯s tits without a bra. Sticking the shovel in the dirt, to mark his grave I shuffle back to the cave, working more with memory and feel than sight in the lightless gorge. Tomorrow I''ll find something to work as a grave marker. Once I get back I scrounge around until I find a flashlight. Further searching has me spraying down the sleeping bag with disinfectant. Perhaps too much seeing as I¡¯m now letting it air out. A quick meal of protein bars and water has me feeling better. It seems that the last of whatever illness that was is fading. Ducking into the tent I pour some more water down Malika¡¯s throat and discover a massive amount of white sand all over her. Odd. Don¡¯t remember that from before. Curling up my sleeping bag I decide it¡¯s a mystery to be filed under procrastination, seeing that the headache from before is turning into a full-on migraine. I¡¯m sure tomorrow¡¯s me will figure it out. Chapter 6 Like water through her fingers. The memory of the dream is gone but the happiness and contentment lingers. Although the moments before passing out were a haze, and she is glad the fever is gone, she wished that the dream would have lasted a little longer. That way she wouldn¡¯t have to deal with whatever awaited her next. Setting her willpower to it, she shifted to move out of the sleeping bag so that she could change out or perhaps simply wash off her assuredly sweat drenched clothing, except that dried sweat wasn¡¯t the only thing that covered her. The other was sand. White, fine grained sand. Confused to no end, she got out of the sleeping bag, remaining in a crouch in the low ceiling of the tent. Taking in her circumstances she was certain that she didn¡¯t remember crawling into a sleeping bag, and she most certainly didn¡¯t roll around outside beforehand either. In fact, she didn¡¯t really remember ever seeing sand like this on their way here. Almost all the sand they had seen had been red. Inspecting her surroundings didn¡¯t help solve anything either, seeing as she was positive where she had laid Akhil to rest, now laid Isaac. Turning back to her sleeping bag she decided to simply shake it out and then find Akhil. He had most likely woken up before her and shifted them about. The sand was another conundrum but the best explanation she could come up with is that it must have helped her heal. She supposed that made sense in an odd way, though she would have to ask him. Getting out and moving towards the exit of their cave she spotted something on her way out she hadn¡¯t noticed through the feverish haze when they had arrived. There were cave paintings all over one wall. They depicted things from hunters to camels to even items of worship. Although older than she could guess, the barbaric beauty of the paintings as well as the sheer numbers set before her worked to progressively clear her mind of worries. Running her hand along one particularly detailed painting of a camel as she passed it, she found her eyes drawn to her hand itself. She had wiped it clean after stepping out of the tent but now it was once again coated in a grainy white. The way it shifted along her hand entranced her further as a connection grew within her. She didn¡¯t have the presence of mind to truly search the connection, but with each step the feeling of an extra limb she had never realized was there, deepened. As she moved she slowly started to feel out this limb, her hand trailing the flow of an ancient river depicted along the wall. As she neared the tarp at the end of the cave her hand seemed to gather more and more of the fine white powder. Moving the tarp aside, sleeping bag now long forgotten, she stepped out into the canyon and watched her hand simply fall away and disappear altogether. Jumping back and letting loose a small shriek she stared at the stump of her forearm, still coated in fine white residue The shock did not last long though, as puzzlement quickly took its place. She could still feel her hand. Except that it wasn¡¯t her hand anymore. Granted it was still hers, it just didn¡¯t feel like a hand. Taking several steps back she watched as some of the sand still covering her arm slowly disappeared, miraculously revealing flesh. Something moving under the tarp caught her attention, and as she stood there she watched more of the white dust flow across the floor, and with a slight breeze, drift up to her. Stumbling back further, she watched as more of it flowed, faster now, and all angled towards her. Frightened by what was happening before her eyes, she tried to crawl further away only for the breeze to pick up and the sand to flow towards her faster and faster, until she knew it was inescapable. Fumbling to sit upright she held her arms in front of her and watched in an odd mix of horror and fascination as the sand settled on her stump and slowly reversed itself back into a hand, now only slightly covered in the same fine-grained deposit. Dumfounded she sat there, not even sure how to begin speculating on this. Standing up and holding the hand out in front of her she slowly moved back towards the front of the cave, paying close detail to her outstretched hand. As she got closer, her arm indeed seemed to somehow accumulate more sand. With a start, she realized that wasn¡¯t right. She was turning into this sand. She felt it, somehow. And then, as if her hand couldn¡¯t hold itself up any longer, it fell to floor in a small pile. Stopping and switching her gaze between the pile and the remnants of her arm, she slowly moved back towards the tent watching as her arm formed itself whole, with a simple gust of wind guiding the process. After repeating this several times, she found that the closer to the entrance of the cave she came the more of her would turn to sand. She even had her whole arm disintegrate at one point. All she had to do to get it to reform was walk back towards the tent. That was something else as well. The farther back into the cave, the more flesh she had. Letting her arm fall into a pile of sand once more she stood there and did not move back this time. She had tried moving it like her arm but had only been met with failure. Now, she tried to simply feel the sand. How was her arm the sand? Feeling it out she realized that her arm wasn¡¯t the sand. In fact, she felt no connection between the current stump and the pile whatsoever. It was connected to something, and even then, it wasn¡¯t so much as a connection as it was a budding awareness. Then she realized a startling truth. She was the sand. It wasn¡¯t a part of her body. She was it and it was her. It all ran through some core, some third limb inside her. Invisible but felt. It was absolutely surreal. Focusing on this new piece of her that was involved with the sand she moved back into the cave but as she moved further back and her arm reformed, so did her awareness of the sand. She sat down beside the tent to ponder on this. She didn¡¯t even have a starting point to contemplate on. Something had happened to her since she had entered the cave. Seeing how when she moved out of the cave she turned to sand. No, I didn¡¯t turn into sand. I became the sand. It all seems to be tied to the cave though. Can I even leave the cave? Am I cursed? Not knowing what to make of it and fearing the implications, she turned to find a second opinion and remembered that they were lacking a member of their three. Having not seen Akhil outside during her experimentation she reluctantly went back inside the tent to wake up a man that, for all she knew would shoot her for interrupting his sleep. Pursing her lips, she relented to herself that that scenario that, although possible, was unlikely from what she had seen. Nevertheless, she decided to just do a quick search for weapons before waking him and that if he did anything suspicious she would just beat down him while he was still groggy. That thought brought a smile to her face.
*poke* Mmmmm *poke* *poke* Mmmhmmm ... *Whack* Hmmm. Something is happening to my body. *Whack* But honestly, I feel so tired and relaxed right now that I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll just stop and then I can go back to sleeping *Whack* C¡¯mon, just leave me alone. I honestly can¡¯t even tell what part of me is getting affected. I¡¯m just so close to unconsciousness and so far away from being awake that I just don¡¯t care. *Whack* Man, this must be some heavy stuff to still be keeping me from falling asleep. Wonder why. Well, whatever it is it can wait. *Whack*This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°AH-urk!¡± I scream and gurgle at the same time as my chest explodes into pain. ¡°Wake up cunt.¡± A harsh yet beautiful voice rings out in my ears and I open my eyes to look up at the demonic goddess that stands over me, a sinister smile on her lush lips. She towers above my unworthy figure, a leftover pole tent her chosen implement of torture. Reaching to my side I seek to turn the situation around and save myself from my fate with the firearm I know I stowed away before slumbering. Except that it¡¯s not there. Speaking of which I¡¯m not even in the tent. ¡°Looking for this?¡± She asks holding out the pistol while slapping the pole tent across my shins, letting me know from the sharp ache that they were the concentration point of her strikes. I grit my teeth, not willing to give my persecutor the pleasure of seeing me in distress regardless of how much my instincts scream to please her in the hopes that she spares the rod. ¡°I was worried you would do something like that if I woke you up. Do you know where Akhil went?¡± She asks, confident in her control of the situation. Uh-oh. She¡¯s probably not going to take that news well. But then again if I tell her later she might legitimately shoot me with my own pistol. ¡°Nope. Haven¡¯t seen him.¡± I say eying the pole she has hovering threateningly over my chest. I¡¯d choose death any day of the week if it meant she doesn¡¯t poke me with that thing in the chest again. Besides, I''m the guy that she¡¯s seen kill someone already, and me telling her that the only other man in the group, who also happened to be kind-hearted and a doctor for Christ-sakes, happened to die somehow in his sleep and is already buried, leaving no immediate evidence? Yeah, you tell me how that works out for you buddy. I¡¯m sticking with this. ¡°He probably went out. Uhhhh, actually did you check the stuff and see if he took anything?¡± Wow, that sounded lame. Always had a problem lying to pretty women. She steps back and away, and I watch her warily move over to the supplies and begin rifling through everything. Obviously not finding anything missing she stands back up with a puzzled frown. ¡°Most of everything important is here but the canteens are full and the shovel is missing. Well, while I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be back soon there¡¯s something else that I need you to see, so move your crippled ass to over there.¡± She finishes gesturing towards the front of the cave. I nod my head, grateful that she is no longer holding the tent pole, and gingerly pull myself free, wrinkling my nose in the process at the smell of my sweat-drenched clothes and sleeping bag. Well, good news is I¡¯m not sick anymore. Grabbing the tent-pole she left, I use it as an improvised cane, seeing as putting any weight on my foot which is now the size of a melon is probably a bad idea. As I make my way forward however, Malika seems to be staring intently at her right hand. The way in which she is waving it around makes for a rather comical sight. One which I am wise enough not to laugh at. Looking at me briefly as I approach she turns her attention towards the tarp. ¡°Watch closely.¡± She states as she moves the tarp to the side and shoves her hand out in a grand gesture. And holds it there. And she¡¯s still holding it. Yep, not seeing anything. Still going. Oh, looks like her arms¡¯ shaking, probably getting tired from holding it out there for so long. Dropping it to her side, she looks at it in disbelief, ¡°I- I don¡¯t understand. Just earlier it- I know it was real! I¡¯m not crazy!¡± Wow, she is getting pretty worked up about this and not in the good way. Hope she¡¯s not seeing stuff like I did. Just to be safe I angle my body so that my cane is out of sight. Sticking her hand back out she closes her eyes. And then she pushed me. Except that she didn¡¯t touch me. It was the oddest thing I have ever felt. Like she reached out with some ethereal hand and punched my heart. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I almost had it. It was there!¡± She seems exasperated and confused. ¡°What did you do?¡± I ask in wonderment and a healthy bit of fear. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I felt it. You did something when you closed your eyes. It was like you tried to¡­¡± My words fall off as I really have no idea how to describe the sensation. I close my eyes in concentration and try to feel out what was there. I can¡¯t really feel anything. Nothing new. Nothing abnormal. And then she¡¯s there. I can feel her and not something like her skin. I feel what she is. Something at her core as it pushes and shoves against me. It¡¯s like a door that she¡¯s trying to get through but I¡¯m leaning on it, resting on it, to keep it closed. I concentrate further and try to move away from the door. I find that it¡¯s not just on her that this other part of me is leaning. It¡¯s everywhere, all around me. This inner part of me is leaning on whatever it can find, but the only thing here for it to rest against was Malika. Sweat breaks across my brow and I can feel Malika¡¯s door opening up, allowing her to pull in what comes through. Holding my focus, I open my eyes and find a pile of sand at my feet with clothing resting on top of it. Upon further inspection, I can feel Malika and her door are also at my feet. The startling realization breaks my focus and I watch in shock as wind seems to howl and whorl around the pile as it reforms into Malika, now stark naked with her clothes at her feet. A greater man would be beholden to what just happened and the ludicrousness of the implications. I am not a greater man and my gaze is locked in on nature¡¯s bounty like a sex-starved teenager. Hey, it¡¯s been a while alright, and all this life or death stuff all the time is getting to me. I start to move my eyes up only to have my reflexes betray me and not block the fastest slap I never saw coming. "Bastard!" is all I hear as I keep my eyes averted as she gathers her clothes, it''s a desperate attempt to preserve the tatters of my dignity. ¡°You did this to me didn¡¯t you!¡± Her shout rings out with vindication from behind the tent. ¡°Listen, this is all weird to me too alright! I just woke up. Let me get some food and water first.¡± Moving over to the supplies I stoop down and grab one of the canteens. I try to and succeed in clearing my baser thoughts from my mind. I contemplate what just happened. She turned into sand. It looked exactly like the stuff I saw before I went to bed. Perhaps even stranger though was that¡­ feeling that I had. I could feel her pulling on¡­ what was she pulling on? A door, a portal, a hole in reality? None of those seemed to fit. And how did she pull on it? It felt like¡­ like she used her soul to be honest. It was filled with raw emotions and power, power that just, well, felt like her. There really was no other way to explain it. Her soul had been trying to pull on something and I had been holding it back. It had actually taken a great deal of effort to let her take hold of the door, to let what was there pass through. Leaning against the door just felt, right for lack of a better term. Like the door was simply meant to be closed. It was odd really. As Malika walks back into view, all my leering thoughts spring back unbidden, but, with seeing as her gaze is still filled with vitriol, I manage to find that a particular rock by my foot is very interesting. Coming by she bends over and scoops up a protein bar along the other canteen before sitting on a ledge in a surprisingly affeminate gesture. Yes, the rock is very interesting. Indeed. Far more interesting than the supple curves and quarter size areola hidden behind that dress. ¡°The farther away from you the more I turn into sand.¡± Is all she says as she menacingly chews on her food while ever so subtly thrusting out her chest. Getting mixed signals here but then again, maybe I''m projecting. ¡°Just now I started to turn back a little when I was behind the tent but it went away as soon as I came close to you.¡± ¡°What was it like? I could feel you in the sand.¡± ¡°It was¡­ terrifying. And odd. I couldn¡¯t really see anything. I could feel some of the stuff happening around me. I think. Before you woke I tested it with my arm and when I focused on it¡­¡± She trails off at the end and a pregnant silence descends upon the two of us. ¡°Could you move? Can you prevent it? I mean from what I could tell when I focused it was like you were¡­pulling on something to make it happen.¡± Her eyebrows draw together as she ponders this. Finishing up her bar and putting down her canteen, she stands up and slowly walks away. She moves with her back to me and I watch as the tips of her hair start to fall away at a steady rate leaving a trail behind her. As she moves further, it falls at a faster rate, and then yet faster. All of a sudden, the falling stops as she stands at the edge of the cave. Slowly and ever so carefully I watch her move forward again until she is out of the cave and still whole. ¡°I did it!¡± She yells out before summarily turning into a pile of sand. Well, if she is going to explore this new part of her I suppose I should figure it out as well. Chuckling to myself I resist the part of me that says to just walk over there and watch the beauty spring from the sand. Grabbing a blanket, I focus on suppressing myself like I did before, feeling it out and trying to discover more about this weird third eye. Moving closer I once more feel the doorway and through it Malika. Upon closer inspection as I feel it out, realizing that she isn¡¯t so much as pulling on the doorway as she is simply changing what comes through. A gentle brook, a bubbling spring. That¡¯s what the doorway is. Out of it flows an innate power, which she seems to pour into and throughout the sand. Reaching the pile of sands¡¯ location, I hold out the blanket, look away, and breath out, allowing my¡­ influence to spread itself back out, no longer bottled up within. I feel her reach out, but before she grabs ahold of the blanket I bring my influence back into myself and chuckle at the sound of sand falling to the floor. I drop the blanket on top of the pile and step inside the cave, moving the tarp to cover the entrance. I wasn¡¯t holding a grudge because she hit my ribs to wake me up. I would never do something that petty. No, not at all. Chapter 7 I never realized how grateful I could be to simply have a water filter. I couldn¡¯t imagine drinking from the pool without it. When I jumped into the shallow murky waters to perish my stench, everything seemed fine. Not a good cold shower or anything but still refreshing. Now, though, hours later after that my clothes have dried off, I¡¯m still finding myself with silt in the absolute worst of places. I think I¡¯ll leave the where to your imagination. At least I don¡¯t smell any longer, and so long as I sit really still, I don¡¯t notice the grime. Instead I notice how much my ribs, foot, and shoulder hurt. Perfect. Still, though, that¡¯s the odd thing. Breathing doesn¡¯t hurt too bad. I¡¯ve had hurt and broken ribs before, usually done to me by people who had, frankly, too much fun doing it (looking at you here Balaam), and it usually takes almost a week for me to heal to this extent. And while I¡¯m not sure how bad my foot was hurt, I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s not supposed to go from the shape of a cantaloupe to be mostly functional in the span of a day. The craziest thing about all this though, is that my condition noticeably improves when I pull in my Influence. No idea what that means, but hey, so far, I¡¯ve found a girl that can turn to sand and I¡¯m the only thing that can consistently prevent it. So, all things considered, I feel like there¡¯s not that much logic to really be found in all this. Still without a paddle with regards to how I¡¯m doing any of this unfortunately, and the more I explore this new side of me, the more confusing it gets. The best we¡¯ve found is that it¡¯s like a field that spreads out around me, and the closer Malika gets, the less sandy she is and the less power she wields. Luckily, we¡¯ve had far more success inpracticing and using our abilities, which has officially become my way of deflecting her whenever she starts asking about Akhil. So far, she can now go a total of 10 minutes without becoming a heap of deposit and I seem to have a good handle on pulling my influence in. It¡¯s kind of like holding my breath. It¡¯s also allowed me to get a closer look at what that doorway is inside Malika. It¡¯s odd but the stuff that comes out of it just seems to pour into what I¡¯ve come to call a soul before changing its form and moving through her. Even when she¡¯s just a pile of sand, her body seems to just soak it up like a sponge and store it. Unfortunately, as the day comes to a close, I find that for all my deflection and reasoning, the woman is simply determined to go out and search for the good doctor. Sealing up my guilt and regret at the reality of this situation, I begrudgingly begin preparations to head out. I still don¡¯t know how to tell her what happened without her becoming completely uncooperative afterwards or worse, trying to kill me. After grabbing a flashlight, the M4, a jacket, and the backpack, now packed with the few medical supplies we have, I step out into the rapidly cooling evening. I look over and find Malika, hair pulled back in a strict ponytail, sticking close and shifting uncertainly as I hand over the backpack to her. My questioning glance is rewarded with a huff of frustration as she reaches down, takes off her shoes, and tosses them back into the cave, letting loose a sigh of what I assume to be relief. Wriggling her toes in the loose sand, she closes her eyes before answering me. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize it until I stepped out of the cave and onto the sand but the shoes were irritating my feet. I can feel the ground so much better without them.¡± ¡°Uh-huh. Well you do you. Why don¡¯t we start by heading in the direction we came in?¡± And in the opposite direction of where Akhil is buried. Nodding her head in response we set off. As we round the first bend and the light starts to die out, I feel tension seep its way into my mind. I didn¡¯t want to do the whole search-and-rescue thing to begin with. Seeing as how there¡¯s a high probability of us being the main course to reptilian monstrosities, I figure it¡¯s a very rational line of thought. Who knows how many of them there are. Here out in the open they could easily be laying in ambush, waiting to rend us limb for limb. The only saving grace I find is that the moon is out and gives some limited visibility. It¡¯s not a full moon, though, so there¡¯s not enough light to tell what¡¯s lying in some of these crevices. For all I know, Godzilla¡¯s ancestors aren¡¯t the only thing out here that¡¯s big and dangerous. I mean I¡¯ve never seen or heard of them before. Maybe there¡¯s other types of gigantic predators looking for a quick meal on some small soft-fleshed mammals. Maybe the- ¡°AKHIIIIL!! WHERE ARE YOU!!¡± Malika shouts from nearby, scaring me half to death in the process. ¡°What are you doing!?!?! Are you trying to get us killed!?¡± I half-shout, half-whisper in fear and frustration while clamping a firm hand over her idiotically loud mouth. Ignoring her muffled threats, I take a quick breath and listen to our surroundings, waiting to see if anything heard us and is coming to inspect the sound. Turning back to her I whisper in a calmer tone, ¡°Haven¡¯t you realized why I didn¡¯t turn on the flashlight! What if there are lizards out here!¡± before releasing my hand from over her face ¡°Well then how are we supposed to find him! Or him us? I can barely see, and given how long he¡¯s been gone he might be injured or lost, so what are we supposed to do?¡± she whispers back in righteous fury. Shit. I wasn¡¯t planning on finding Akhil so I never really thought about how we¡¯d search for him. Opening the backpack on her shoulders, I pull out a piece of headgear. If she wants to search so bad she can. I¡¯m focusing on staying alive. Taking the night vision goggles from my hands I show her how to turn them on and off and adjust it to her head. Properly mollified she remains silent, much to my relief. The silence, though, is broken all too soon. ¡°I think I found something.¡± Those words are NOT what I want to hear. ¡°It looks like tracks, a lot of them. Over there.¡± Walking over to the far side of the canyon wall, I look to where she points. Paw prints are scattered all around the hard-packed sand showing a large mess of them leading in from the same direction we came through the day before. The difference is, that these tracks veer off into a smaller offshoot of the main canyon that opens up about 30 meters away instead of heading further in. The sheer number of paw prints though is something to worry about, especially if whatever made these tracks specializes in taking down larger prey. I freeze in place as I spot movement within the shadows of the defile ahead. Flitting about, more of the shadows pour out of the ravine before heading in our direction. ¡°Do you think he went this way?¡± Malika asks, oblivious to our situation as she has her back to the gloom. ¡°Malika I want you to turn around and tell me what you see. Don¡¯t shout or yell, and please for the love of all that is good in the world move slowly¡± I tell her under my breath. Standing stock still before moving to do as I asked, she turns her head in the direction I gestured to. Letting loose a quiet gasp of terror she freezes in place as well and begins to describe what she¡¯s seeing to my horror. ¡°There must be hundreds of them. They look like foxes, but they move faster than anything I¡¯ve ever seen and there¡¯s something strange about their legs and tail.¡± As she finishes I watch as dozens of what looks like 6-legged foxes pour out of the shadows in a broad arc, encircling us completely with only the rock wall to our backs. While they may only be tall enough to reach my knee, I hold my rifle in the ready position. Keeping a wary eye out, several of the foxes whip their long sinewy tails about and point their bone tipped ends in our direction. A blinding flash sears my eyes and Malika¡¯s screams fill my ears, overpowering the blood-curdling growls all around us. Squinting, I barely make out several shapes barreling in my direction. In the blink of an eye, one of them seems to be in front of me and suddenly I feel fangs tear through my pants and into my left leg. Yelling my surprise, I fire half the clip into its body before the pressure lets up. Trying to catch my breath I finally get my vision back to a certain extent and take a hard look at our surroundings. The problem is that everything is just so bright I can¡¯t make out many details. It¡¯s like there are hundreds of spotlights, all pointed in my direction and flashing on and off at random. The shapes beyond my sight, seem to be closing in but as they do, the light dims and a pressure seems to settle over me. I have my back against the wall now, finger resting on the trigger, and as the light dims the pressure rachets up in intensity, seeming to come from my left, right, and front but not from behind. In a flash of insight, I realize why there¡¯s this pressure. I can feel them, all around. There were just so many of them I didn¡¯t recognize it for what it was. They¡¯re trying to use that stream, that flow energy that I felt in Malika, and I¡¯m suppressing it. It¡¯s only now with the overwhelming pressure that I can feel the edges of the same kind of passage within myself fueling my Influence. They must use their power to blind their prey before attacking. A second probing observation tells me that they¡¯re also using it to make themselves faster. The thought sends a shiver down my spine and instinctual fear sends my thoughts into overdrive. All the things attacking us have a doorway that they¡¯re using it to create the light. By coming near me that doorway shuts. Closing my eyes and praying I don¡¯t get eaten alive, I focus on doing the opposite of what I¡¯ve practiced all day. Instead of pulling it in, I push and all at once I feel the source of my power within me roar its protest at the strain. And the lights go out. Blinking my eyes as my vision adapts to the abrupt lack of illumination, I listen as the startled yips recede into the crag from which they came, leaving only the dead fox at my feet and another, larger than the rest but still only coming up to my hips, standing between me and the shadow-blanketed fissure. Malika is, thankfully, unmarred but still on the ground clutching at her eyes, the night vision goggles long since useless and discarded. ¡°What did you do? I felt it but I can¡¯t see.¡± She declares in a strained voice as I turn towards the last of the foxes. Stepping over the still carcass at my feet, I make no move to answer her, my focus entirely on the specimen before me. My head starts to ache and my vision blurs as I continue to force my Influence farther than it was surely meant to go. I can feel the snarling beast before me pound itself against me, struggling to grasp its power as it rears back on its haunches. Whatever inside of me is capable of suppressing these supernatural beings, is screaming out as I tax it to beyond its limits. Time seems to slow as I bring my rifle to bear and the fox coils back to make its lunge. Halfway up however, my Influence evaporates, going silent all together and my legs drop out from under me. All I see as my body collapses to the ground is a streak of fur that passes through the air where I was just standing. A deafening crash and sickening crunch follow along with a spray of rock shards across my unresponsive back. Limp I lay there,listening for movement to follow as my breathing becomes more laborious with each passing second. Hearing none, I struggle against the lead that fills my limbs to no avail. Desperation tings my thoughts as from where I lay, face first in the sand, I watch the shadows shift from within thegulch. ¡°Malika? Can you come to me? I can¡¯t move and we need to get out of here.¡± I can¡¯t even so much as twitch. All I can do is focus on breathing but it feels like someone is sitting on my chest, making every breath more taxing than the last. At first, all that greets me is silence. Then, a small gust of wind whispers over my back before building to a stiff breeze. As swiftly as it came, the flowing air falls off altogether and I simply lay there, lacking any other options.
Malika can¡¯t see. She had been watching as demons in the guise of foxes scuttled around them, faster than anything had a right to, and then her eyes had burst into agony. Even as the pain receded, she found she couldn¡¯t see her hand in front of her face. Now, she can¡¯t even hear. She could only remain there, a pile of sand. She didn¡¯t know what had happened or why Isaac had left her to fend for herself. She could only speculate at the events, the two most likely being either he had gotten killed, or he had run off without her. She knew there wasn¡¯t anything she could do about it but the thought of either of thoseoccurring stung a bit more than she had expected.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. She knew from experience she didn¡¯t know how to make herself human again. She was useless. The strangest thing though was that she didn¡¯t feel alone. Even with the seeming lack of sensory input she knew Isaac was still there. She tried a last-ditch effort and called out to him, except Isaac wasn¡¯t the one to reply. Instead the wind answered her, and stunned, she listened. As if she had thrown a switch, the world opened to her. Through the Earth she felt the canyon, the rocks millennia in the making. Through the Wind she was told of Isaac¡¯s labored breathing. She felt the multitude of 6-legged animals, their footsteps uncertain. She was worried what they would do and as she listened the wind told her of the smell of their fear and their frightened whimpers. And as she listened she felt the two dead foxes, one by Isaac¡¯s prone form and the other with a mangled head lying below a shattered indentation in the rock wall. Then she felt a heavy beast on four legs, far away, but coming closer. Dread crept its way through her as she discerned the one thing that fit its¡¯ proportions. Panicking she tried to move, to hopefully help but she didn¡¯t know how. So, in a Hail Mary, she asked the Wind. And the Wind answered. Moving and shifting her body around Isaac¡¯s unresponsive form with the Wind¡¯s guidance, she felt through the Earth that he was still conscious. Not sparing the time or focus to question it she hurried along as the Wind told her of the dying smell of fear and the building sniffs of curiosity coming from the pack animals. Lifting up the man, leaving his face free to the open air so that he may breath, she shifted him along, back the way they had come, away from the supernatural predators. She continued carrying the prostrate man, eventually no longer needing the guidance of the Wind to move, instead pushing herself along using the Earth until they arrived at the cave. Moving them both inside the tent, she let herself lie still. She was spent, as if she had just lifted heavy weights all day with her mind. Not knowing what else to do she simply let herself slip into unconsciousness, just as Isaac had done immediately upon catching sight of the cave.
Her body shifted and she came awake. Resettling herself off Isaac¡¯s body and moving to the side, she felt him come awake as well. As he tried to sit up, the Wind told her that he asked if she was still completely sand, seeing as how whatever he did last night left his body drained and his power unresponsive he said he couldn¡¯t tell. Wanting to explore what the Wind could do, she asked it to tell him that she was and that he needed to fix whatever it was he needed to do or she was going to carry his worthless ass back to the fox¡¯s den. She took pleasure in feeling Isaac flinch and the brief look of worry that passed over his face. Leaving him to rest adn recuperate, she shifted out of the tent and thought about what she was going to do for the day. She was strangely feeling a little thirsty if she were to be honest to herself, and not having any traditional way of going about it, she decidedto go to the pool and see if maybe some magical drinking spout would form the sand. It seemed to be in line with all the other things happening around her. Making her way to the water she dipped a small piece of herself and recoiled in terror. The sand had indeed soaked up the water, however, as soon as it did it, that piece had grown too heavy and unresponsive, making her unable to prevent it from falling away into the water. She was still connected to all the grains now sinking to the mud below, but the feedback was so weak it was as if she had lost them altogether. She stayed there and focused on bringing those pieces of herself back and an hour later she felt the last of them make their way to her. She made a note to herself to stay away from liquids whenever possible if she wasn¡¯t human. She didn¡¯t want to guess what would happen if she ever completely submerged herself. Moving back inside and away from the sinister pool of water, she stopped and burst into laughter at what she felt happening. Isaac had made it outside the tent apparently, and was currently lying flat on his belly with his face smushed into the floor, all the while crawling his hands forward with the use of his finger so that he could continue pulling his body in the direction of the canteenson the far side of the cavern. ¡®It¡¯s not funny¡¯ the Wind told her he said, muffled as he was, lying face down. This just caused her to laugh harder, and if she were standing, she knew with absolute certainty she would have fallen to the floor in her merriment. Calming down, she considered how good it had felt to laugh, like a weight was lifted from her metaphorical shoulders. She couldn¡¯t remember the last time she had laughed so heartily. Surely not in the days following the plane crash. The stress had been getting to her, but here, in the cave they were relatively safe and could let down their guards to an extent. Moving over to the water bottle and picking it up after a few tries she reached her decision. Well since it looks like I¡¯m going to be in this form for a while I should get some practice in. Turning her attention back to Isaac as she moved the plastic water containercloser she reacheda second, more devious,conclusion And while I¡¯m at it, I might as well have some fun as well.
Really? I mean, what have I done to ever to deserve this? Besides the obvious of course. I have another headache. Another mind-splitting, sense-numbing, screws in my skull, headache. I think they¡¯re slowly getting worse. But listen closely because I¡¯ll only say this once: There¡¯s an upside to all this. I just haven¡¯t figured it out yet. Ah! I know! I¡¯m still breathing after the last few days of horror fun! See I can still- Breathing is pain. My chest is on fire. My ribs are screaming. Yep, there still broken. I take what I said back. There is no upside to this. I died and have fallen into the pits of hell. They just haven¡¯t told me yet, just wanting to watch and let me suffer, letting me think there¡¯s a way out of this. Actually, that sounds like a really fucked-up way to start off an eternity of torture¡­ So, MOVING on. Yes, that¡¯s what I should do. Malika scared me half to death when I first woke up. She can talk but it¡¯s just so ethereal. It was like having someone breathing down my neck; whispering in my ear. Definitely gave a fresh edge to her threats, that¡¯s for sure. Booming wind chimes echo throughout the cavern, playing a beautiful melody that I recognize as laughter. The eye that can see towards the entrance of the cavern catches sight of a quivering pile of sand. Malika¡¯s laughing at me. It¡¯s official. I now longer have any pride. It¡¯s useless. So far, I¡¯ve been incapacitated and had to be carried/dragged back to our literal hole in the wall, not once! But TWICE! And now I¡¯m like some incompetent who can¡¯t even feed himself. Perfect. ¡®Hello! I¡¯d like to start off this interview by asking where you see yourself in 10 years from now.¡¯ ¡®Well Bob, I just had the most FANTASTIC acid trip last week and I think my favorite part was where I wormed my way across the floor of a cave with camel paintings while my friend, the sand pile, laughed its way to eternal happiness at my aspirations of survival.¡¯ ¡­ And now I¡¯m debasing myself in my own fantasies. I don¡¯t see how this could get any more pathetic. At least she¡¯s getting pretty good at moving around. She even picked up the water bottle I was heading for and brought it over here. She¡¯s holding it out in front of me, guess I need to grab it. Rallying my strength, I let loose a guttural warrior¡¯s cry of exertion and my hand moves up towards the bottle and- Malika moves the bottle just out of my reach and laughter echoes out again. She¡¯s mocking me. I stand corrected, this just got soooooo much worse.
Sitting with my back against the wall I study with intense scrutiny the clues laid before me. Nothing escapes my eye, but even with all my guile I come up empty. ¡°No idea, I¡¯m stumped.¡± I say, reaching up to rub my eyes. It¡¯s almost evening now and I¡¯ve slowly regained my strength, but not my self-respect, over the course of the day. My Influence, last we checked, wasn¡¯t strong enough for her to fully reform, but it was enough to at least let her eat a little and drink some water. I currently have it reeled in, which I found to increase the speed of my recovery, at least physically, by substantial amounts. In fact, I think that if I kept it reeled in like this for a few more hours, my ribs would make a full recovery. As they are right now, it now longer hurts to breath but twisting causes some slight trouble. Malika, though, seems to have flourished with her control over her form, occasionally to my dismay when she finds a new method of degrading my pride. She¡¯s actually gotten to the point where she can create a rough caricature of her head or an arm and wield it with minor proficiency. Her latest trick involves shifting her sand about with enough dexterity to create pictures by outlining what she wants to create. Which leads us to where we are now. One rock to my name. On a whim, when I had originally packed my bug-out bag, I had stowed away a single luxury item: A freeze-dried ice cream sandwich. Seeing as how there was only one, we decided that an improvised game of charades would determine the recipient of the prize. Seeing as how my movement was hindered, this left the acting to Malika. She would give me three clues pertaining to the word and we each have 5 rocks. If I guess what the word is, I take one of her rocks. If I fail to answer properly she takes one of mine and the first one to 10 wins. I¡¯m also allowed 3 separate times to ask for an explanation of the clues. I currently have one rock and one explanation left and I can¡¯t figure this one out. My current clues are a figure that seems to be looking under things, a long-haired person, probably a woman, with a frown, and a single dot. ¡°I¡¯m calling in my last hint.¡± A smug laugh bounces off the walls before a whisper flows into my ear, ¡°A man searching for something he can¡¯t find, a disappointed woman, and a spot.¡± Pondering over these I still come up blank. She had absolutely trounced me this entire game. I couldn¡¯t even call her for cheating, given that her clues made perfect sense afterward. Hindsight is always 20/20. ¡°You win. But what was the answer.¡± I ask as I move my last token into her pile. The sand from the three clues, shifts and forms a single word on the ground below me. G-Spot it reads. Dammit. Well she¡¯s been messing with me all day today, I think it¡¯s time for some payback. Moving over to the food I pick up freeze-dried dessert and head back over. Focusing I let out a controlled amount of my Influence and watch her body reform in front of me. I let out more until she stands before me, but not completely whole,the details and most of her shape obscured by sand. ¡°If you think it¡¯s impossible for a man to find it on a woman, I¡¯m sure I can correct you of that notion.¡± I say as I hand over the package, all the while striking a pose in my bare-chested form. My shirt long since discarded, too permeated by sand and blood to be comfortable. She takes me by surprise and cups my crotch with a grip strong enough to make me uneasy. Leaning forward so that her mouth is by the side of my head, she says in a smoky seductive voice, ¡°Sorry Casanova wannabe, but I¡¯ve had men like you and I know better than to put any hope in false promises you can¡¯t keep.¡± She releases her hand and turns away with sandwich wrapper in hand, but not before I catch a glimpse of her flushed red cheeks, even through all the sand that covers her face. Dumb-struck and unable to quip back I simply pull my Influence back in and grab the water bottles and filter. Beating a hasty retreat, I say over my shoulder in the direction of the settling sand pile with the wrapper sticking out the top, ¡°Your loss toots. A man is only worth as much as his word, and let me tell you, when it comes to value, I¡¯m worth my weight in gold.¡± Kneeling beside the pool I let free my Influence and begin pumping and refilling the canteens. When focusing on the task at hand fails to clear my head, I start running through dismantling drills on the M4 and the 9mm¡¯s back inside. When my blood finally stops pumping through my ears I find that the two water bottles have long since been filled and overflowing. Drawing in a deep breath of the cool night air I curse myself for my lack of composure. The only woman to ever get me this flustered was Lilith. I need to get my big head back together and stop letting the smaller one get the best of me. Screwing the caps back on the canteens I stand up and pause at the faint sound of footfalls in the distance. Moving behind the dead tree I peer out and watch in horror, as around the bend in the pale moonlight, one of the giant lizards comes into sight. Walking slowly, its¡¯ tongue flickers out of its mouth, its¡¯ head periscopes before turning to a bush and quietly munching. Stilling my breathing I watch it carefully, waiting for it to turn its attention further away, so that I can run inside and grab a gun without it noticing. A shadow flickers across the canyon and suddenly the lizard is dying. A bipedal thing has the lizards neck in its mouth, ensuring that the only sound that echoes through the canyon is a quiet gurgle as air passes through the blood pouring out of its throat. Two more of the monsters silently rip into its sides and legs with their maw, preventing the lizard from thrashing or fighting. They¡¯re skin is smooth with the complexion of stonestretched overstrong clawed legs and thick tails, though they lack any form of arms whatsoever. They simply hold their prey, until it stills completely and as they begin tearing into the reptilian flesh with their oblong heads I realize that I stopped breathing. I haven¡¯t even so much as twitched. The vision of these horrendous raptors simply appearing turned me into a living statue. Ever so quietly and ever so carefully I release a small measure of my breath, my stare trained and unblinking on the monsters relishing their feast. Minutes pass as they gorge themselves. Carefully and ever so patiently I pick up a single foot and move it in the direction of the cavern. One of the horrifying beasts whip its¡¯ head around, pointing it directly where I stand. Catching my breath, I watch as its eyeless, smooth head stays locked in on my position, blood dripping off it and a chunk of gory flesh held in its mouth filled with daggers. Slowly it swerves back to its meal, and I stand there. Watching as they feast. Staring as they tear the remnants into smaller parts. Focusing on their form as they trot off, the scraps pulled along by their teeth. I wait another half hour before I make my way back inside and into the tent. Malika already in her sleeping bag, I slip into mine. There¡¯s no sense in staying up to play sentry. If they come to kill us, there is nothing I could do to stop the 3-meter-tall monstrosities. Even if they didn¡¯t move faster than I could see. I need to get Malika moving, I can¡¯t pretend that Akhil might come back anymore. If I must I¡¯ll tell her what really happened. If she hates me so be it, but that doesn¡¯t really matter, not with every new horror that seems to come forth from the night. I lay there, staring at the ceiling of the tent asking myself how we¡¯re going to survive all this, but no answer comes. It isn¡¯t until many hours later that sleep finally claims me with only one thought still ringing through my head. It¡¯s time for us to leave. Chapter 8 The next morning, as the great ball of fire rose in the sky, Isaac began a resolute monologue on why they should move on. Malika didn¡¯t argue. She did still wish the kind doctor was here, but he was likely dead. Isaac didn¡¯t mention what he saw last night though. He was probably trying to spare her from something he couldn¡¯t properly explain and likely didn¡¯t want to. Malika had felt the lizard first. Even with her senses muted by Isaac¡¯s Influence, he had been farther away than usual and she was able to feel a decent amount. She had gotten up to warn him, but just as she reached the entrance she felt them. She didn¡¯t notice they were there until it was already too late. First there was just the lizard, and then the 3 monsters were there. Even when they stood there, eating their meal, they were so disconnected from the Earth she could barely feel them. It was like they weren¡¯t even touching the ground, separate completely. Regardless of how dull her connection to the Earth whad been, she had still felt the danger practically oozing off the trio. She had stood there unmoving behind the tarp, barely breathing until she felt them carry the last of their catch off elsewhere. When she was sure they had left she had scurried into the tent, gotten into her sleeping bag and curled up, not knowing what else to do. It was only then that she had finally accepted Akhil¡¯s death. For that was most surely what had happened. No food or water would be difficult enough by anyone¡¯s standards, but with these otherworldly beings running around at night, he was dead. How had they even made it the first night? It was only a few giant lizards at first and then slowly everything else had shown up. It was like all the gates of the underworld had been thrown open, releasing these beasts out into the world and they were just starting to move into their new territory. If that were the case, all indications they had seen thus far, pointed to the origin coming from the west. That left their only course to continue further into the rock that surrounded them and hope that they could outpace whatever new horror was spawned by this wasteland.
Packing up all the supplies as fast as possible I stuff most things into the duffel bag and the weapons into the backpack. Pausing, I take one of the 9mm and walk over to where Malika is finishing up breaking down the tent. Surprisingly, she didn¡¯t even so much as bat an eye when I started talking about moving away and further east. This entire morning she¡¯s just been rather subdued. Not really sure what to make of it, but if she¡¯s willing to move out everything is fine in my book. Standing up at my approach she looks to what I hold in my hand and raises a single eyebrow in question. ¡°You said you don¡¯t know how to shoot right?¡± ¡°I can fire a pistol just fine. I¡¯ve just never handled a rifle before.¡± She responds Taken slightly aback, I unload the gun and hand it over. ¡°Show me.¡± While obviously not an expert or regular user, it doesn¡¯t take her long to find the safety and cock the gun. Leveling it off, she points it towards the wall of the cavern, steadying the pistol with both hands in a stance that, while amateurish, shows she¡¯s not going to shoot herself in the foot. Pulling the trigger, she dry fires it and I hand over the clip along with the other pistol. ¡°Nice shot, if you were going for a C-list actress on an shitacular action flick from the 70¡¯s. Just don¡¯t shoot me. Especially not the face, it¡¯s one of my better features.¡± Her grin following my comment seems to wash away whatever was eating at her. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry if you don¡¯t learn how to compliment a woman soon and properly, I¡¯ll just aim for your balls. After all, if all you know is derogatory remarks, I doubt you¡¯ll be wooing anyone.¡± She jabs back, adding a saucy wink to finish it off. Coughing into my sleeve I grab the M4 and walk out with the tatters of my dignity. Malika follows not long after and we head off, away from the incoming lizards, foxes, and monsters from the Abyss. Luckily, as we move on and the shadows dissipate with the morning, the canyon to either side becomes steeper, and vegetation shows up with more regularity. Stopping around midday to refill our canteens at a small pool we found in a crevice, I hear something that I haven¡¯t heard in what feels like years: music. More specifically, of all things, it¡¯s Waterfalls by TLC. Spinning on a dime I turn to see Malika standing off to the side with her eyes closed and phone in one hand, head swaying to the music. Rushing over I startle her by snatching the phone from her hand like a toddler that wants his toy back. The screen is cracked and battered to no end, but alive. ¡°Hey! What the hell do you think you¡¯re doing twat! I know it¡¯s old but no need to be a jerk about it.¡± She huffs in irritation. Turning to her I ask, ¡°How did you turn this on and how long has it been working?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know it always just kind of worked alright? It survived the crash but there¡¯s no reception out here so I didn¡¯t think it was important. Why is this such a big deal?¡± She retorts. Shoving her phone back into her hand I cackle with glee. This is it! This is our break! Tearing open the duffel bag I reach in and pull out a sealed plastic case. Opening it up reveals large bills of currency, in everything from dollars to rubles, passports from several different countries, and other necessary odds and ends if I ever needed to ghost. But they aren¡¯t what I seek. Pulling out a small block of heavy duty plastic I flip it open and press the power button in eager anticipation. The small screen lights up and I punch in the code to ask for coordinates with regards to our current location. As the numbers flash across the screen I tear open a plastic bag filled with maps. Pulling out the world map first I narrow down our location to Algeria. Pulling out a second map I pinpoint our position to somewhere in the Tassili N¡¯Ajjer, an Algerian National Park. Yelling my victory to the skies I whoop in joy. ¡°Mind telling me what¡¯s going on?¡± Malika¡¯s voice brings me back to earth and I excitedly wave her over. ¡°Alright see this?¡± I ask holding up my device, ¡°This just let me know where we are. We¡¯re currently in Algeria, in some sort of nature preserve. More specifically,¡± Pausing for theatrics I begin illustrating with my finger, ¡°We¡¯re here. And not 50 kilometers to the east there¡¯s a causeway and a village/city/town, not sure how big it is, to the North. If we move fast we can probably reach the road by tomorrow.¡± ¡°How far is that though? I¡¯m not familiar with metric, here.¡± ¡°Oh, yeah, sorry it¡¯s about 30 miles in a straight shot over.¡± ¡°Ok. Alright.¡± Nodding her head, the excitement abates ever so slightly until she looks torn between incredulity and elation. ¡°Now, that¡¯s awesome and all but why didn¡¯t you do this sooner?¡± ¡°You weren¡¯t awake when the plane went down, but essentially all electronics cut out. I lost my phone in the crash so I never had anything to test and see if it was some kind of localized EM pulse or something else. It wasn¡¯t until I heard your phone working that I even remembered I had this beautiful piece of hardware on me.¡± Whatever, she can question me all she wants this news is far too pleasing. Turning back to the apparatus in my hand I begin punching in the next set of codes, the ones that will relay a message back to home base letting them know that I¡¯m alive but in need of assistance. Sitting there I press send and wait for the code to make its way through whatever satellites and systems it needs to. Faster than I expected, the response crawls across the screen and my mood plummets faster than the soul of a recently deceased politician. It¡¯s an automated response with a dispatch telling all Charity personnel to prepare Doomsday procedures. The message continues and as I parse out the code I find out that restorations of damaged networks are in motion and that the Doomsday preparations are to be made and ready to go but not expected to be enacted. The fact that it¡¯s an automated response is almost as worrying as the fact that whatever hit the plane apparently affected the rest of the world as well. This is a personal transceiver that Balaam should have replied to, but the fact that he¡¯s not behind his desk means either he got special orders from Abraxas, or something happened to Lilith and he¡¯s moving to bail out his sister. Either one of these is cause for major concern. Keeping my thoughts to myself I look up and find Malika studying the map with as fine an eye as possible. Good, the more we both know about this area the better our chances. I don¡¯t have time to be worrying about the others just yet. I need to make sure I can make it out alive first. We spend the next few minutes trying to determine our exact location among the ravines and gullies that seem to make us this entire region, until we give up and simply plan our route to a questionably vague degree. It officially involves following whatever route East we can take. We might have to do some serious climbing depending on the turns we make. Packing everything back up except the map, which Malika hangs onto, I dip a cloth into the water and rewrap it around my head to protect me from the heat and the sun. A simple question confirms that we are both in agreement with regards to her phone. While all the predators we¡¯ve observed have come out at night, blasting tunes as we go along, regretfully, won¡¯t increase our chances of survival. Setting off once more, Malika strikes up a new conversation. One that I¡¯m not all that comfortable with. ¡°Is Isaac your real name?¡± she inquires and while her timbre says nonchalant curiosity, the loaded look she throws at the duffel on my shoulder tells me it is anything other. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a difficult question to answer. It¡¯s the name that I go by officially. Originally it was my middle name.¡± ¡°Oh? So your parents just up and named you Belial? Or are you just going to say it¡¯s difficult and avoid this entirely? I¡¯m a little pissed off I still don¡¯t know your name. Worried I¡¯ll give it away? Who am I going to tell out here?¡± Her tone had started out slow, measured and cold, but by the end had picked up, and I could feel the heat in her voice reach out and singe my hair. ¡°It¡¯s not out here that concerns me. And it¡¯s not just my safety and anonymity that I have to worry about. If-no, my bad, When we get back let¡¯s say you drop the name Belial in some casual conversation. This is just one possibility mind you. And someone who¡¯s in the know, which there always is, finds out you might just know all the little details that I keep close to heart, what do you suppose happens? I¡¯ll grant you this: it¡¯s not like the movies. It never is. There probably won¡¯t be threats to your life, after all you¡¯ve probably got people back home who care about you and even if you didn¡¯t the media would notice if you went missing shortly after you got back. But 5, maybe 10 years from now you sit down have a cup of coffee and someone strikes up a conversation with you and you¡¯ve been chatting with them for the week or so that he¡¯s been coming around and then one day, oh yeah! He remembers something about some plane crash way back when! And he¡¯s just so friendly you get to talking and he asks you, ¡®oh yeah wasn¡¯t there someone else that made it out with you?¡¯ and you tell him, ¡®yeah he was this odd guy''. Then you think ¡®it¡¯s been so long that it shouldn¡¯t really matter what I say, I mean he¡¯d never believe me right?¡¯ So you tell him about this arms dealer that went about and had guns in boxes disguised as relief aid and killed this guy named Jethro and it just felt so good to get it off your chest finally after all these years and then he¡¯s gone and you don¡¯t think anything more of it, because hey he was just some guy, right?. But me? The next thing I know my life goes to hell in a hand basket. I don¡¯t worry about people like Jethro coming after me. I worry about people who do their research.¡± I pause my energy spent and done with my rant, but not done driving my point home, ¡°I don¡¯t fear for my own life Malika. I haven¡¯t feared death in a very long time. I¡¯m a bad man and I do bad things. Those weapons alone would have caused more heartache and bloodshed than a drug pusher could cause throughout his entire life but I made peace with doing bad things when I was 14. But the people who would want to know the little things about me would never kill me. They¡¯d go after my other secrets, the ones that aren¡¯t mine to tell, or they¡¯d go after the people I try to protect. And those things are what I fear the most.¡± Silence was my only response and silence is all that was said for the rest of our travels that day.
Gracefully a well-manicured hand lifts the small wine glass to a pair of blood red lips. Moving away from a well-stocked wine rack, the woman with the hair made of gold walks over to a window. Taking a sip of the amber-colored liquid the woman with the ice blue eyes looks over the city of Madrid. Turning to the clock that sat on the far wall of her current abode, she seems to count down the seconds.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. As the clock strikes six, the woman in the emerald green dress snaps her eyes back towards the evening skyline. Just in time for five explosions to simultaneously bloom in great beautiful petals of concrete, fire, and chaos. At this, the woman with the sinister smile on her lips sits down in an antiquated chair in the well-furnished suite on the 24th floor of the Edificio Espa?a. There, the woman with the fiendish twinkle in her eyes, listens to the sound of heavy booted feet running down a distant hallway. In the ornate wooden chair, the woman with the high cheekbones eases into the cushions and lets out a sigh that echoes through the expansive suite. Out the window her gaze bore as she sat there, her thoughts hers alone. In a motion that could rival dancers in elegance, the woman with the long legs stands up and downs the rest of her glass of vintage port wine. Striding over to the kitchen, the click-clack of her heels striking the polished floor resounds louder in the room than the panicked shouting outside the entrance to her gilded cage. Resting her glass by the sink, the woman with the hair that flowed in waves prepares a meal fit for kings. An hour later she lays out two plates with food that speaks to the soul on a table made of mahogany. Leaving the steaming food there, the woman with the looks of cunning and sophistication melts away. In her place walks a frightened high-society girl with a hand clasped over her substantial breasts as she heads towards the foyer. With eyes that speak of innocence and belief that the men with guns were telling the truth when they said they were keeping her here for her own safety, she waits briefly in the hall until the sound of rapping knuckles upon the door thunder out from the rectangle of polished wood. The girl with the quivering lower lip throws open the entranceway to reveal a middle-aged man with greying hair. ¡°Is everything alright? After I saw the explosions one of the people out here said that someone would be by to explain things to me so I made dinner. But¡­¡± Pausing and biting her lip the young maiden with the complexion of an angel hesitates before continuing, ¡°but are you sure it¡¯s safe here?¡± Uncomfortable with the dismayed Aphrodite with the watering crystal blue eyes before him the Spaniard revolutionary assures her with meaningless nothings, ¡°It¡¯s alright, nothing can get you here, and as soon as it¡¯s safe we¡¯ll put you on a train out of the country. Trust me Liliander we have your safety at heart.¡± Sniffing and dabbing at her eyes, the damsel in distress nods her head to show her unwavering faith in the uniformed Junta leader, ¡°Please, all my friends call me Lilith.¡±
As night fell and the air chilled, the pair found themselves in a secure, albeit cramped, spot to spend the night. With no room to set up the tent in their newfound shelter, Malika laid out her sleeping bag on the bare rock. She hadn¡¯t asked anymore questions after Isaac¡¯s tirade. She refused, however, to call him Belial. It just sounded¡­ wrong. Like a mask that he was hiding behind. She was even tempted to come up with her own name altogether instead of Isaac, if for no other reason than the principle of depending upon someone who didn¡¯t trust you with their name. What he said had made sense. Sort of. She couldn¡¯t truly understand it but then again, she was working to earn her MBA and he was doing whatever it was that international smugglers did, so their world views likely didn¡¯t line up on much. There was one thing she could be happy about though: they had traveled a good distance today. She had had a good look at the map and if her guess was right they should reach the road by noon tomorrow. She just hoped she could hold out that long. She had worked out regularly and was by no means a girly girl, and traveling through the canyon had proven easy enough. The rock wall that had towered over their heads didn¡¯t always stay that high, sometimes dipping low and for hours at a time they had had to trudge through soft sand under the blazing rays before the walls climbed back. While that wasn¡¯t entirely too bad it did tire her out considerably. This, however, only served to compound the complication that arose when they could no longer traverse at the bottom of the canyon to continue traveling east. While the sand had been hot and walking difficult, climbing up stones that had soaked in the sun for so long they burned her hands was infinitely worse. Now, sweaty and defeated she collapsed onto the cool stone floor of the fissure they had climbed into, set high into the canyon walls. Desperately, all she could think of was how much she wanted a shower and a beer. ¡°We need to set a watch.¡± Those were the first words he had spoken to her since their¡­ conversation. Words she didn¡¯t fully understand. ¡°What do you mean? I don¡¯t have a watch.¡± She claimed, lacking any energy to say more ¡°No, I mean we need to set a look-out, someone to keep watch while the other sleeps. That way nothing out there can take us by surprise. We¡¯re both pretty exhausted but the climbs look like they wore you out. I¡¯ll take first watch and then at midnight we¡¯ll switch. That sound alright?¡± He stood there looking at her as if watching for any sign of displeasure and making sure to keep his distance from her lest she assault him. And just like that her worries evaporated. He could keep his secrets, even if she didn¡¯t understand the need to. He was resolute in his belief and maybe he would tell her before they finally made their way out of this mess, but she wasn¡¯t blinded by her ignorance and could see he was genuinely worried she was angry with him. He cared and for now that would be enough. Taking a loose cloth, she grunted her confirmation, and wiped off some of the grime layered around her body. Drinking some water and eating a snack she settled down into her sleeping bag. All too soon she was woken up. Groggy and bleary-eyed, she sat up with a start, still on edge even from the past few days. ¡°Anything happen?¡± She inquired with a whisper as she rubbed her eyes in befuddlement. She had never fancied herself a morning person. Or really a waking person. ¡°No. Nothing has even so much as breathed, thankfully. I¡¯m fucking exhausted though, good luck, and try to stay awake. If I die I¡¯d like not to have it happen while I¡¯m still half-awake.¡± He murmured as he climbed into his sleeping bag, jacket still wrapped tightly around his shoulders. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me not waking you. I need someone to trip and act as a culinary distraction for whatever ends up chasing us. But if you don¡¯t wake up fast enough I¡¯m liable to take that tent pole and shove it up your ass. I¡¯d like to see sleep through that cunt.¡± She replied, this time her whisper not so quiet. Sipping some water she moved towards the lip of their hide-out, Isaac¡¯s quiet snoring already rumbling out behind her. Peering out across the canyon she threw on a jacket of her own as well as the wool blanket as she sought to seize hold of the escaping leftover warmth from her slumber. The night ticked on and as the moon began to set she found her eyelids growing heavier by the minute. A guttural hiss that she would recognize anywhere with cold terror brought her instantly out of her stupor. She cowered further into the crag, lying on her belly. She tried to feel where her possible assailants were before remembering she was too close to Isaac to utilize her connection with the world around her. Eyes wide she heard the sound draw near before one, two, three¡­ fifteen of the giant reptiles passed below, paying no heed to the two hiding above them. They continued on, until the sound of their footfalls faded beyond her hearing. Long after the last signs of the beasts had passed she laid there, eye-wide and unblinking. Even as the sky lightened with the coming of the sun she dared not move.
¡°How many again? Fifteen? Are you sure?¡± I ask for the second time, unwilling to believe what Malika is telling me. Fifteen of those bastards all headed in the same direction we need to go. At least they¡¯re nocturnal for the most part. In fact, so far, all the beasties have been coming out at night which is a blessing. If they were out at all hours of the day we¡¯d have long ago been lubing the gears in this food chain like the fat kid at the cannibal¡¯s birthday party. ¡°Yes. Yes I¡¯m sure, but fuck did I wish I was wrong.¡± Malika answers. I¡¯m tired but I swear I don¡¯t feel half as tired as she looks. The bags under her eyes have bags. ¡°Do you have any idea what they do during the day? We¡¯ve only ever seen them at night.¡± ¡°I think we can assume that they do during the day the same as us at night, just find a spot and hunker down.¡± Considering the possibility of coming across that bank of cold-blooded creatures, I reach for the backpack and pull out the four grenades, stuffing two into my pockets I hand over the other two explaining, ¡°I want you to take these two. If we see them this will be our best chance of stalling them.¡± Demonstrating for this next part I hold up one for her to see. ¡°To throw, you¡¯re first going to wrap a hand around the entire thing, and make sure that you¡¯re pushing down on the lever at the top. Get a firm hold, bring it to your chest, and pull the pin with one hand. Now you¡¯ll have five seconds, but that count down doesn¡¯t start until you let go of that lever, so what you¡¯re going to do is take it and give it a good throw away and then try and get some cover or just jump to the ground to make sure you don¡¯t get hit by any stray shrapnel.¡± I wait for her to nod her head before handing both over. With any luck, she won¡¯t pull the pin and accidentally drop it. Packing up is faster this time and after checking our coordinates to confirm we¡¯re on the right path, we set off. With the pace we set, I honestly think we could have made it to the causeway yesterday if it weren¡¯t for all the dead ends we keep hitting. The way everything is eroded down ensures it¡¯s not an impossible obstacle, but coming out of the valley leaves us with no shade and the rocks heat up to ungodly levels. That combined with the onerous task of actually climbing up a craggy face of a cliff, slows us down immensely. To top it all off though, is the fact that the rocks around this entire region are so variable it makes it impossible to discern anything in the distance. We could, in truth, be completely wrong about where we are and the road is just 10 minutes away, but we¡¯d never be able to tell. Take this one for example. We just finished climbing up a rather steady incline and now that we¡¯ve reached the top there¡¯s a spire that I can¡¯t see past to my left and a cave full of giant lizards in the depression to my right! It¡¯s absolutely ridiculous! ¡­ You ever get that feeling? ¡­ That feeling like you¡¯ve just made a mistake? ¡­ Like you¡¯ve missed something of crucial importance? ¡­ Right now? Right now, that feeling is alive and ringing in my ears louder a shot from a shotgun fired from the leader of your local KKK when his daughter brings home her black boyfriend. Gulping audibly and freezing in my tracks I slowly pivot my head in the direction of the entry of a large cavern not 10 meters from where we stand. Providentially Malika has the sense to follow my line of sight and not make a peep. Looking back and into her eyes, which are wide enough to be comical if not for the circumstances, I point forward, marking a path down into the next valley that heads Southeast before bending and heading straight east as far as I can tell. Not waiting for a reply, I start to head down, barely daring to breath. Step to the left around a pillar. Step to the right and avoid the drop-off. Take it back and down around the cliff. Slide across the ledge to the tapered slope. Home free! We made it! All that¡¯s left is-*kkkkkrrrrrshhh* I am a statue. A piece of the landscape. The lizards will never hear the loose rocks falling down the cliffside slowly knocking loose more debris as it goes. Right and I¡¯m a unicorn. *HHSSSSSS* High up above a scaly head pokes over the edge of the cliff. Its¡¯ eyes don¡¯t roam for long. *GGGRGRRRRHHSHSSSS* ¡°RUN!¡± Jumping and hopping down the rest of the way, we make it to the bottom and take off at a sprint, Malika matching my pace step for step as the sounds of shifting rocks reach my ears. Coming up on the bend that will take us east I chance a look back and find the whole bank of lizards almost to the desert floor. Going around the bend I come up short. It¡¯s another dead end. And worse it ends in a sheer cliff face that even the lizards couldn¡¯t climb. Wait. Maybe there¡¯s still hope, we just have to get there before they catch up. ¡°Hurry!¡± I yell as Malika shifts from her uncertain and undetermined stance to that of an Olympic sprinter as we both tear off towards the far end of the natural enclosure. As we come to the end of our running room, Lady Luck decides to favor us and I spot what I was looking for. Over to one side, the rock splits, forming a thin fissure in the sheer rock face that follows it to all the way up the terrain. For the first 15 meters it¡¯s just large enough for someone to stick their arms in and grab a hold. From there it levels off and smooths out enough to simply go on all fours the rest of the way to the top. As we pause to catch our breath the pounding of padded feet reaches my ears and our reptilian foes come into sight from around the bend. ¡°Climb! Stick your hands in and climb like a ladder!¡± I shout, still out of breath. She is still winded as well but she does as I say, to the best of her ability. Sticking in a hand and grabbing a hold of something before wedging her foot into the gap and pushing off, it makes for slow progress. As she climbs I quickly follow her up the wall. We make it two thirds of the way there before our hunters make it to our position. Looking back, I panic and shove myself as far into the crag as I can, barely preventing my end from being lizard dung. With just enough room in the crevice to turn my head, I look back to see a gaping maw and padded feet scrabbling at the fissure in an attempt to grab a hold of the duffel bag that peeks out, with nowhere to go given that it¡¯s still attached to my back. With my feet and hands locked in there is nothing I can do as the loose rock around me is torn away. As it falls back down and prepares to make another lunge I spot a large conspicuous mound of sand come around the bend and displace everything before it, almost like a giant mole hill. A falling ball of metal catches my eye, one which the lizard, momentarily distracted snaps up. *fwhboom* A deep bass mixed with a wet squelching sound of freshly pulverized meat and bones echoes out and as I take another gander at my assailant, I get a lovely first-hand view of the cannibalistic nature of these omnivores. Another grenade falls and ends the same way as the first. Beholden to Malika for saving my life once again I continue scaling up the wall. Scrabbling to the top I collapse in a heap, not too dissimilar from a wet noodle. Sitting there I watch the gore fest and make note that halfway down through the valley the large mound seems to have stopped. *BFWOOOOM* Like the impact of an artillery shell, sand sprays up, momentarily blinding me. As my vision clears the sight that greets me is anything but comforting. Claws, teeth, and chitin reach up into the sky as if to pierce the heavens. Towering above its surroundings, the worm-like centipede grown to impossible proportions holds one of the large reptiles in the grasp of four mandibles that reach out across its mouth contain two rows of vicious teeth. As it eats its snack it falls to the side, waving its multitude of short, stubby, spear-like legs, too small to be used to maneuver something of its girth. That notion is confirmed as the behemoth shatters a far rock wall and then slithers off in a snake-like motion, while using its legs as anchor point so that it can practically climb sideways through the canyon in its pursuit of its meal. I think I can make an educated guess as to why nothing moves around during the day. Deciding that staying mobile before the overgrown arthropod finishes picking apart the fleeing reptiles and decides it wants us for dessert, I turn around and move away from the cliffside. Catching sight of the road in the distance I am greeted by an even steeper precipice. A steep drop precedes the largest body of water I have yet to see out here and it stretches nearly to the roadside in the distance *SKREEEEEEEEE* Yep. Decision made. Hopefully it¡¯s not too shallow. Chapter 9 ¡°Papa it hurts.¡± Abdul looked over at his son once more in grief, ¡°I know Hashim, but it¡¯s going to be ok. Everything is going to be alright. Just rest. When we get to Illizi we¡¯ll get you a doctor.¡± His beautiful Shahira was dead, gone in the night, and now his son seemed destined to join her. For all his wealth, power, and connections, nothing had saved what he cared for most. Abdul had grown up like most men in Algeria, raised in the unforgiving Sahara as it were: with little to his name. Shahira had been one of the village girls, one that he had wanted to marry long before he even heard her name. He had found work as soon as possible to earn an appropriate Mahr to give her and show that he was worthy of her. He had not disappointed. When he was younger he had known all too well the struggles of putting food on the table from watching his brother. That was not the life he wanted for him and Shahira, he wanted theirs to be a life of plenty, so back he went to what he did best. Shahira had even helped, crafting his business from one based on employees hired to do a job into a community. One where everyone shared in the spoils and misfortunes. All his employees knew of his wife and her kind smile. She had no talent for numbers or business but with people she had shown brighter than the sun. It had been for that very reason why, when word had come down about demons killing the livestock of some of his people that he personally saw to it, bringing Shahira to help along with their son, Hashim, so that he might watch and learn. What they had found when they had arrived however, was travesty. While a good number of the livestock had indeed been killed, the rest had fallen ill, swiftly followed by the people. While his wife had gone out to help care for the sick he had secluded himself, making calls and trying to coordinate aid. It was to no avail, for while his problems had been horrid, the tales his contacts told of the chaos in central Algeria spoke of horrors beyond his imagining. Throughout the past few days more had gotten sick until even his wife had been laid up in bed, sores covering her body combined with an itching that drove her to the brink of madness. It had pained him to watch her so, and it had been many heartrending hours before her breathing had calmed down and deepened, signifying the blessing of sleep. It wasn¡¯t too long after that, though, that she had stopped breathing altogether. He had been unable to help her and that morning when the call came through that some of the global superpowers were mobilizing, claiming the happenings in and around Ain Salah were responsible for the Night the World went Dark, Abdul knew that help would not be coming. So it was, that when his son had started coughing that morning, fear had wrapped its icy tendrils around him, smothering his gief. The villagers already had someone survive whatever this was, and he was roaming, trying to tend to everyone he could. He would have to do for now. May Allah forgive him but he needed to leave and find a doctor, or someone that could heal his son, and his best chance to find one in time was in Illizi. ¡°Abdul, there appears to be two people up ahead. They appear as if they¡¯ve been out here for a long time.¡± The voice from the driver¡¯s seat pierces through him. Closing his eyes Abdul thought on what was just said. He was a kind man and had always looked out for his fellow man, never forgetting his roots. The money had always been a means to an end: to make sure his little family could live in peace, happiness, and prosperity. Any other day and he never would have hesitated have the driver pull over and offer aid. The pained whimpers of his son caused another pang of sorrow to seep its¡¯ way into his heart. His decision made, he sent out a silent prayer that another would be more graceful and offer them aid. ¡°Drive around them and continue on. We have no time to waste.¡±
¡°Horse Gobbling Donkey Dick!¡± That was the first car we had seen in hours. It had come up on us so fast, that by the time we heard the tires on the asphalt it was already swerving to get around us and putter on. It was a nice Bentley, I¡¯ll give them that, but the odds were now looking slim that we¡¯d make it back to civilization by nightfall. Especially after walking for several hours waterlogged. I think it goes without saying that, dressing in an attempt to keep your body¡¯s water in, makes it rather difficult to swim, or really, move at all. Waterproofing EVERYTHING I have is going to be an official mandate from now on, at least with regards to my gear. It was only through pure paranoia that I waterproofed the bug-out bag last year and now that I witnessed how effective it was, I really wish that I had done it for my shoes. My clothes as well, but really, if there was one thing I could keep permanently dry it would be my shoes. I just don¡¯t see how Malika walks around without them. I tried, but all I got was raw feet and the smell of burnt flesh, compliments of desert asphalt. Okay, so maybe the sand and road aren¡¯t that hot but I think I¡¯ve proved my point. I mean c¡¯mon! She hasn¡¯t even worn socks since the night we almost got eaten! No, not at the airplane. No, not by those velociraptors on steroids. No, not by the giant worm. Yes! That one! The foxes! Man, I am not liking our track record here. It seriously doesn¡¯t bode well. ¡°We¡¯ll get the next one. That was probably just some rich prick that thought too much of himself. He can¡¯t be the only one on this road.¡± Malika says but from the look on her face as she says she believes those words as much as I do. In other words, not one bit. Perfect. ¡°BAAAAA!¡± However, it seemed that today, fate would favor us. Whipping my head around I look to the source of the noise. In the distance, what looks like a truck comes around the bend traveling slowly. Moving out into the middle of the road I take a firm stance and contemplate on whether or not I would be willing to shoot the driver and take the vehicle if they try to leave us here. It would be a hard shot with a pistol, the rifle already semi-dismantled and resting in the backpack, and I would be shooting an innocent man. That would be crossing lines I had set for myself a long time ago, but faced with either killing someone who would leave two people, obviously stranded, or spending another night out here, I¡¯m honestly not sure what my decision would be. Luckily, I don¡¯t have to find out. Pulling to a stop, the (I use the word here loosely) truck looks to be held together by twist ties, rust, and willpower, while screeching out a cacophony of noises that, if I¡¯m translating this right from engine growls to English, says ¡°Kill me please.¡± Shifting my thoughts away from the vehicle of questionable disrepair to the bearded head that leans out of the drivers¡¯ side window I hear, ¡°?? ???? ??? ?? ???? ?????? ?? ?? ???????.¡± ¡°Ummm, I don¡¯t speak Arabic. Do you?¡± I ask turning to Malika ¡°?? ???? ????? ????? ???? ?? ????? ???? ?? ??????? ?????????. ??? ??? ??????? ?????? ??????? ????? ???? ?? ???? ????? ?? ????? ?????? ??? ????? ???????.¡± Well. Guess that answers that question ¡° ????? ??????? ???? ?? ????? ??? ??? ???? ????? ???. ??? ??? ?????? ????? ????¡± A lie. I can¡¯t understand the language but I know the clues when I see them. Moving away and feigning disinterest I walk around to the passenger¡¯s side of the truck to get a better look at the three caballeros and have a proper vantage point should I need to act. I shouldn¡¯t need to, considering all we need is a lift, but, hey, shit happens. ¡°Baaa!¡± It seems they¡¯re carrying sheep. In fact, the shoddily walled in truck bed is absolutely jammed full of the scuzzy things. The cabin contains the driver and two other men. Maybe they¡¯re on their way to sell the village livestock? ¡°?????¡± comes Malika¡¯s voice, now slightly tinged with disbelief, ¡°?? ??? ????? ??? ??? ??? ??????¡± ¡°??? ???? ???? ????? ???¡± I¡¯m a little bit further from the conversation, so I can¡¯t make out much of the subtle intonations but the haughtiness in his voice carries over the din. From the look on her face, Malika doesn¡¯t fully believe what he¡¯s telling her. Making as if to inspect the truck out of curiosity, I note that the smell of gun oil is absent, and a cursory sweep of my eyes reveals no hidden firearms. Not really a guarantee but it¡¯s a start. I¡¯m closer to the passenger¡¯s side than the drivers and as the driver leans over to his compatriots I hear, ¡°??? ??? ???? ?? ???? ?????? ????!¡± Not understanding the language but not liking the direction this is taking, I step back over to her and subtly reach my hand to the small of my back where the 9mm sits, ready to spring into action. ¡°???? ... ??? ?? ... ?? ?????? ?? ???? ????? ?????¡± Malika says, now a little uncertain, and I watch the man feign disdain in his reply. ¡°?????? ??! ??? ????? ????? ??????????.¡± ¡°Malika, what¡¯s going on?¡± I ask without turning to her. I need to know what¡¯s going on. ¡°He doesn¡¯t believe me about the plane crash and when I asked him for a lift, the stupid goat-fucking prick wants us to pay for it. Apparently, he keeps spouting some nonsense about us being tourists and that we need to pay him.¡± Well, that¡¯s¡­ irritating, but something that I¡¯m actually prepared for. Unlike everything else that seems to have happened recently. Reaching back, I shield my actions from the three men and unzip the duffel bag. I was a little too adrenaline rushed earlier to really notice it, you know amidst trying not to be eaten, but man am I glad I took the time during my watch last night to pull in my Influence and allow my body to finish healing. Still not back in my best shape but a whole lot better than when we first made it to the cave. ¡°????? ???? ??? ??? ????¡± ¡°??? ?????! ????? ????? ?? ??? ??? ??? ?????? ???????? ??? ??? ??????!¡± Another lie, this one he believes is of less consequence than the last, as if he thought of it off the top of his head, one that would be of no consequence. I reach in and rifle through the small sack containing fake passports, currency, and the like. Pulling out a wad of euros I decide to play French tourist. Would go with American, but that usually gets mixed results at best. For now, coming off as some na?ve and stranded European tourists come to vacation in a French-speaking part of Africa might give the proper impressions. ¡°???? ???? ?? ????????¡± That last lie must have been of greater consequence than the man thought, because incredulity in absolutely dripping from Malika¡¯s voice now. ¡°???? ?????? ??????!¡± ¡°??? ??? ?? ???? ??? ?????? ???? ??? ???? ?????? ?????? ?? ??????!¡± I stand up and turn around and find that things have gotten fierce. ¡°??? ?? ???? ???? ?????????? ???????? ??????! ?????? ????? ????? ????? ??? ??? ????! ??? ???? ???? ?? ???? ?? ???? "???? ?????"! ??? ??? ?? ??????? ?? ????? ?????????? ?????! ??? ???? ?? ?????? ?????! ??? ??? ????????? ????? ??? ?? ?????????!¡± Time to nip this in the bud. Grabbing a hold of her arm before she can retort to the last heated statement, I lean down and whisper in her ear. ¡°Listen we just need to make it to town. I have plenty of cash and once we make it back I can get plenty more after a few phone calls.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°They want you to sit in the back with the animals while I ride in their lap like some hooker! On top of paying them! They¡¯re extorting us! And there¡¯s no guarantee that they don¡¯t try something else.¡± ¡°Listen we¡¯ll both get in the back, I¡¯ll hand them some cash, and if they try anything else I¡¯ll take care of it.¡± Looking into her eyes I see her catch my insinuation. Instead of reeling back or arguing against such methods, hardened steel enters her eyes and she simply nods her head. It seems these past few days have changed her a good bit. Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s for the better. Forking over 50 euros I see the men¡¯s eyes light up with greed. It¡¯s not much by the standards of Europe but out here it might as well be a fortune. Climbing in the back Malika joins me and from the green in her complexion I can tell the smell is just as¡­ delightful¡­ for her as it is for me. To my consternation the trip took more than 2 hours. 2 god-awful hours of standing in the bed of a truck with non-existent shocks and surrounded ill-tempered, pants-chewing devil spawn that smelled worse than a year-long fermented rotten egg. Commonly (and mistakenly) referred to as a goat. Holy hell was I ever so glad to get out of there. I have yet to decide, however, if what greets me is any better. The truck pulled to a stop by an animal pen where I assume they sell the sheep. Around us is a small cluster of adobe huts further surrounded by walled in agricultural areas that have the briefest hint of green leaves showing over their tops. Not a 5-minute walk further down the road, a tall adobe wall stretches around the town behind it, as if in defiance to the sand covered terrain that envelops everything. Tall rock spires loom up from the desolate sand fields in the distance behind us, remnants of the rocky landscape we just came out of. While the buildings and landscape are beautiful, majestic, and unique in the way that the people out here have managed to thrive, that isn¡¯t any cause for true concern. No, the people are. Standing here in the middle of a cluster of empty stalls, the sounds of dying fills my ears over the howling of the wind, the smell of disinfectant fills my nose over the stench of livestock, and the acrid taste of fear fills my lungs, overwhelming the grit of the dust. But worst of all is the sight of the multitude of still bodies, covered in white sheets, that lines the side of the road, overwhelming the beauty of the scenery. Several vehicles, bearing the mark of an ambulance come out of the city, heading towards this small agricultural area. I watch some attendants come out of a central building, open up the back, before unloading several bodies, these still breathing, and carrying them away into open-aired tents scatter throughout the area, the ancient looking buildings already overflowing with the infirm. It appears that this Farmer¡¯s Market has become an impromptu sick ward and funeral parlor. Recovering and collecting my thoughts I find that I no longer wish to be here, surrounded by the helpless masses grieving over their lost loved ones. Malika apparently reaches that conclusion first and pulls me along with her towards the city. As we walk, I look at all of them as we pass. Men and women, the elderly and the children, the feeble and the vibrant, all seem to have been brought low, not by evil and choices of man, but by disease. As I pass I note everything I can but every case seems to differ. I see a child shivering and puking blood, a man covered with boils, a woman whose luscious hair is falling out by the handfuls, and a geriatric with blood leaking out of swollen eyes and black splotches covering whatever skin is visible. There was only one thing they all had in common. Subtle, but the more I saw, the clearer it became. Every single last one of them had irritated skin. To the point where it looked like some had drawn blood in the incessant scratching. That and the slight pressure in the back of my mind that I get from some of them that are closer. They are the same ones who stop scratching as we pass, usually falling into unconscious bliss. After what felt like an eternity we make it into the town, for that¡¯s the only thing it could be, and I finally notice that this entire time she had kept an iron hold on my hand. I honestly don¡¯t think she¡¯s even noticed yet. That would likely explain why her grip is slowly turning my fingers blue. Reaching out with my non-entangled hand I place it on her shoulder, ¡°Hey you doin¡¯ alright?¡± Startled she looks back at me, then my hand, letting it drop away. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s just¡­ Well, you noticed how all of them were scratching at their skin?¡± As I nod in confirmation she continues ¡°Well you were out of it at the time, so you probably don¡¯t remember much, but when we first made it back to the cave you and¡­ Akhil looked a lot like they did. I think I was like that too, but my memories are just so hazy after a certain point.¡± She finishes speaking but she doesn¡¯t need to say anything else about what happened after that. Our situation is weird enough as it is, with us still working on surviving, let alone how or why all of it is happening. A chill gust of wind blows down the street and I look to the west and take in the picturesque sunset as it fills the sky with oranges, reds, and purples. ¡°I think we should find out what¡¯s going on. Maybe warn someone in charge of what we saw out there as well as the plane crash. I have a feeling that whatever happened didn¡¯t just affect us.¡± A bestial roar breaks out interrupting me before I can say more. Looking at Malika, her cheeks turn a distinct shade of red I¡¯d call embarrassment. Coughing to hide my laughter I say, ¡°Maybe we should find food first though.¡± We come up to a pharmacy and Malika steps inside while I sort through the bag, pulling out a French passport along with a wad of euros. While waiting I take a solid look at the town. This area of the town is practically dead with only the occasional ambulance car rushing by, likely to pick up or drop off more people. From what I can tell, the town is a decent size and while what I saw at the entrance was bad, it hadn¡¯t gotten too many people. Yet. The fact that they had set up a quarantine outside of the walls though probably meant that it was spreading faster than they could get a handle on it. Just as I was about to walk inside to see what was taking so long, the door opens up, revealing Malika who looks white as a sheet. In her left hand, she holds what can only be a newspaper, Arabic script printed all over it. Opening my mouth, she beats me to the punch, ¡°It¡¯s worse than I ever thought it could be.¡± She says, her gaze on the ground, ¡°I know where we can stay the night. I need a moment though, and then I¡¯ll tell you the rest.¡± Staying silent I merely wait until she begins walking, before following her. Patient while she figures out how to tell me what she heard. I¡¯m not left waiting long. ¡°Algeria is under quarantine.¡± Holding up the paper in here hand she gestures to it. ¡°Ain Salah, a town west of here, is apparently overrun with monsters and the military is being mobilized from several different countries. The reason for the quarantine though is because so far, everyone that has come into contact with them or escaped the town alive gotten sick. It¡¯s spreading like a wildfire. I even asked the owner of the store what was going on out there,¡± she waves a hand behind her in the direction of the town¡¯s entrance, ¡°and he said that one of the farmers killed a fox with 6 legs and the next day everyone that had seen it was dead or dying. They¡¯ve only had a handful survive so far.¡± She falls quiet and for that I am glad. I don¡¯t know what to do with this information. I deal with people who act like monsters, not the actual thing. We approach a door with hotel written in French and Arabic and I open up the door, trailing Malika inside the lobby. The heavenly fragrance of fresh cooked food wafts from an open doorway to our left and Malika stops in her tracks. Chuckling I move around her and head to the counter. ¡°Do you speak French here?¡± I ask the receptionist on a hunch. ¡°Yes, we do, are you here to dine or stay the night?¡± the gruff middle-aged man asks. The bags under his eyes tell the story of the stress that I am sure the whole town bears. ¡°Both. 2 bedrooms and meals for the two of us.¡± The man visibly winces before replying, ¡°I only have one room left. I am sorry but the only other hotel is currently closed down and everyone else that couldn¡¯t flee today has come here.¡± Oh. Well then. A few more quick questions and I fork over the cash for both the room and two tickets for food. Taking the backpack, I hand over the tickets and tell Malika that I¡¯ll take them up if she¡¯ll find us a table. Barely paying attention she doesn¡¯t take notice that I only have one room key in hand as she lobs the backpack in her haste. Making it up several flights of stairs I look out of the rooms single window and take in the view. The night is growing dark but movement on the horizon pulls at my curiosity until I am pulling out the rifle scope and peering through it. What I find is disturbing. They look something similar to pangolins. I think. I¡¯ve never really seen a pangolin in the flesh but out there, moving in an arc around the city, is a large herd of animals walking on two legs. Their front arms are held off the ground, but just barely. Their entire tail and the tops of their body is covered in large brown scales, resembling armor more than anything. A flash of light from the back of the herd draws my attention and as I focus the scope I make out a large pack of the 6-legged foxes flashing their tails at a straggler of the pack. Now with a better chance to observe I watch them expertly point their tails, tipped with bone, at the beast. The use the focused lights to blind it and the others around it, allowing them to slowly cut it off from its herd with the expertise of a scalpel in a surgeon¡¯s steady hand. In a burst of movement one of the small foxes lunge at the pack¡¯s prey. Instead of its¡¯ teeth closing around flesh however, it is crushed between the jaws of the armored beasts. Spinning around the bipedal tank points its tail at a cluster of the small agile predators. A burst of what I can only assume is water flies out from in between the scales, striking three. Steam wafts into the air as those struck by the liquid thrash around on the ground in agony. But the distraction was all the pack needed as two of them bite into its unprotected throat and another three tear at its soft underbelly. Shivers arc their way down my spine as I watch the efficient hunting method displayed by the light wielding fiends. They seemed to be satisfied with their meal and not a threat but I knew there were other predators out and about that were far more fearsome. We might have made it out of the wild, but we had yet to reach safety. Putting down the scope and looking away from the grisly sight I head back down to the restaurant to find Malika already half-way through her meal and two beers in. Making my way to the table the smell of food overpowers any brooding thoughts and I begin to salivate worse than Pavlov¡¯s hounds. As I sit I notice a beer before my plate as well. Looking up as I pull out the chair Malika swallows her latest mouthful, ¡°Took you long enough to get down here. Thought maybe you took a shower or something. Judging by the smell though I¡¯d take that as a no.¡± She turns thoughtful and says, ¡°I got a better read on that newspaper and what happened in the past few days. You know, when the plane went down, I thought it was just a fluke or something, but apparently the entire world got hit. No one knows what it was, but all electronics got knocked out for a little bit. A lot of places suffered pretty bad for it, like city grids and stuff, but most things were back up and running in a few hours. Some scientists traced it back almost immediately. Said the source came from the poles and spread outward from there. The next night it happened again here in Algeria though, this time on a smaller scale. It wasn¡¯t long after that when the¡­ other things started showing up.¡± She stops here altogether and looks me in the eyes. ¡°I know that you can probably get out of here but I don¡¯t know what to do. I figured that we¡¯d stick together. You¡¯re not just going to up and leave me here are you?¡± Popping the top off my beer I put on my best shit-eating smirk, relishing in her uncertainty. For once I have her officially off-balance and man does it feel refreshing. ¡°My parents named me Salem, and no, I wasn¡¯t going to leave you here. I still have a debt of honor to uphold by showing you my prowess in bed, sweetheart.¡± As I finish I can¡¯t help but bust out laughing at her flustered expression. Absolutely priceless. Well I guess I can relax for a single night. I mean thousands of people live here, what¡¯s the worst that could happen?
Throwing his phone down Abdul collapses into a chair in the corner of the room. His son passed out not that long ago after the so-called doctor came in and looked at him before handing over sleeping medication, saying that he had others to attend to. This would not save his son. Scratching at the growing itch on his neck, he closed his eyes. Tears sprung unbidden and tracked their way down his cheek. He had always lived by the tenants laid out in the Quran. He had never cared for any of the wealth he had earned. He had never enjoyed wielding the power afforded him. He had never levied the chances afforded him to be unfaithful. He had only cared for his wife and child. His business had grown strong and his pockets deep. He could have had many wives. Indeed, his colleagues all did. He had never wanted any of that. He had only ever wanted beautiful Shahira. And now the last piece connecting her, their son, was slipping through his fingers. For the first time in days, as his world crumbled around him, Abdul wept.
Closing the door behind him Mohammed left his brother in privacy. Standing out in the hall he closed his eyes and steeled himself. He had to be strong for what was left of his family. Grief and anguish were things that he would not allow himself. He had to reconcile for his sins. When their parents had died, he had sworn to look after and care for his brother. They were both already men by Islamic law but they were still too young to fully support themselves. When his brother wanted to go to school, he took an extra job so that he could buy books. When his brother fell in love with the woman of his dreams he told him he was happy for him. When his brother wanted to get a job in the town over to earn a dowry, he made sure they still had enough money to eat. When his brother got married to the woman Mohammed still loved, he congratulated him and when his brother¡¯s business took off, he learned how to drive a car, fly a plane, captain a boat, and protect him from those that might wish him harm. But where it mattered most, he had betrayed him. His brother had been so busy those days, trying to earn money so that he could spoil his wife when she came to him. Mohammed knew that he still loved her and he had been happy to be by his brother¡¯s side to protect them both, but he knew he would always long for Shahira¡¯s touch. She had come to him, concerned about the long nights that Abdul was spending away, and Mohammed told her the truth. He knew his brother had eyes only for her and had told him many times how much he hated being away from his wife. She had listened but as the night wore on and the wine flowed heavier, he laid his soul bare before her. It had been a fit of passion, one that never came again but the guilt gnawed at him. He had been prepared to bring it before his brother and beg for forgiveness when Shahira came back to him. She told him she was pregnant. She told him it was his. She also told him she did not love him. He never told Abdul of his betrayal, but his sense of duty and guilt never strayed far from his thoughts. Now, Shahira was gone and his brother grieved, but he would be strong enough to carry him. He would be by his side no matter what, protecting him and Hashim as the world fell apart. Abdul was smarter and more charismatic than him but Mohammed had always been stronger than him. He would fight the legions of hell themselves if they came after his family. Chapter 10 Holy shit this girl can hold her liquor. I think I¡¯m like five bottles in after an hour of eating whatever grub we could get a hold of and Malika is now breaking out shots of some local liquor. Honestly, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to make it back to the room if this keeps up. A brief question to our French speaking waiter and I fork over some more cash and he brings the bottle of firewater. Standing up, I find the room is now a spinning carousel of disorientation. Maybe it was seven bottles? Catching on quickly, Malika stands up as well, and if I could focus enough, I might have been able to tell whether or not she was faring better than me. ¡°Hey Salem, how many languages can you speak?¡± Malika asks me as we make our way up the stairs. Alright, so maybe the question might have been just a teensy bit slurred but I wasn¡¯t really paying attention to that. In fact, I was having a hard time thinking about her question at all as the gorgeous, and oh so obviously aroused, woman felt me up in all the right places. ¡°Shhhhh, you¡¯re not supposed to use my real name out here¡± I state (slur) intelligently as I begin to retaliate her attacks in turn, ¡°Let¡¯s see there¡¯s English, Spanish, French, German, Russian, *hiccup* and I¡¯m just finishing up Mandarin so that makes what, six?¡± With a bottle in one hand I regretfully extract my other to grab the key and open the door. Malika seems to have none of those qualms as one of her hands slips down the front of my pants. I take the route of the better man and resist the primal urge to take her then and there in the hallway. As the door opens, she plants a kiss on me that sends fire down my veins and leaves me forgetting to breath, as my pulse picks up and my desire to be sober for what come next mixes with the intoxication of her smell. She whispers huskily into my ear, ¡°I¡¯m going to go take a shower. Do you think you could give me a little help?¡± ************************************** Mutely I nod my head and follow her in, both of us leaving a trail of clothes behind us. Ripping my shirt from my torso an idea forms in my muddled brain, and I pull in my Influence ever so slightly. Like a splash of cold water the alcohol clouding my thoughts sweeps away. As we go, I keep my eyes on the raven-haired Cleopatra as she undresses, admiring her pert backside and becoming intoxicated by something else altogether. Enthralled, I slip under the stream of warm water and join her. Grabbing her head, I bring her around and press my own fire hot kiss onto her delectably full lips, noting that she indeed was likely much less under the influence than I was. Softly biting her lower lip, I reach over and grab a bar of soap. Taking my time, I make sure there is not a single speck of grime left on her, all the while ensuring the¡­ cleanliness of her bosom. Making my way down, I drop to my knees, noting the landing strip leading down to her soaked slit. Taking extra time here, I use my fingers to thoroughly and attentively scrub the area clean, starting at her inner thighs and working my way up to her honey pot until I hear a small gasp and quiver that tells me it is to her satisfaction. Finishing up, she takes the soap from my hands before standing me up and scouring me spotless as well. When she drops to her knees she completely ignores my stiff member, swollen from the light petting, moving on to the rest of me. Only when everything has at least been lightly scrubbed does she move to my prick, caressing it in both hands before rinsing everything off all together. I move to exit the shower, too worked up and filled with need, but she stops me in my tracks by grabbing my hips with her hands. Still on her knees she begins bobbing her head on my tool before taking me all the way to my base in one fluid motion. Gasping my pleasure and surprise, I grip the edge of the shower trying to keep myself from cumming. Finally, and yet all too soon, she stops, coming off my rod, gasping for breath, as I do the same for entirely different reasons. She notes my breathlessness and smiles up at me mischeviously while giving me a few more playful tugs, ¡°Oh, so soon? And here I had gotten my hopes up that you could live up to your big words.¡± Incensed and worried that if she started up again I would let loose right there, I pick her up and put her over my shoulders, caveman style. Letting loose an effeminate squeal of surprise, she quickly rallies herself, ¡°Oh so what-¡° *Whack* My hand strikes across her rear and she lets out a small girlish shriek before I set her down on the bed. She looks up at me from the mattress, her cheeks flushed, her hair matted behind her and her body still covered in a light sheen of water. She bites her lips, her gaze filled with heat and desire, she asks ¡°What are you going to do now?¡± My face breaks out into a roguish grin but find that I haven¡¯t properly calmed down enough to speak with more than a grunt. Going to the foot of the twin size mattress, I go down on her, returning the favor in kind, though mostly because at this point I was worried that the slightest breeze would preemptively set me off. Using my hands to get a firm hold of her hips I dip my tongue into her soaking wet box, finding her drenched, and not with water. Putting my years of traveling experience to good use I bring her to the edge twice before finally setting her off, fully delighting as she begs for release. One of her hands grabs firmly onto my hair in an attempt to press my face further into her clenching pussy, while she bites the other to stifle her cries. Not giving her a chance to rest, I ease a finger inside her and change the pace, bringing her to a second, more abrupt and intense, climax before the first has a chance to fully ebb away. Her thighs immediately clamp around my head, holding me in place, but as her back arches, thrusting her perky c-cup bosom into the air, I don¡¯t stop, even as I feel my lungs burn and her orgasmic quivering increases to full-blown spasms. It¡¯s only when she rallies herself enough to shove my head away that I finally step back. When she finally makes it back from cloud 9 and looks up at me, leering over her in supposed victory, does some of the fire and steel that I¡¯ve come to expect from her, enter her eyes. Taking a firm hold of me, she pulls me onto the covers next to her. Straddling me, she takes a firm hold of my penis before centering it. Reaching out I stop her before she impales herself, ¡°I don¡¯t have a condom with me.¡± Smiling she locks eyes with, taking my breath away with her dazzling smile and pale green irises, ¡°I was on the pill before this.¡± She drops her hips down as she finishes saying this, and I gasp in pleasure while my hands grip the sheets. While the break helped me to regain some of my stamina, it did little to stem the excitement or keep my blood from pounding through my veins. ¡°I should be safe for a few weeks.¡± She says between pants as she lets herself adjust to the feeling of me being inside her. Leaning over she kisses me and then says huskily in my ear, ¡°I want to feel your big tool cum inside my little cunny.¡± The twitch of my cock at her words is all the answer she needs. I don¡¯t get much respite after that, as before long she begins slowly and agonizingly moving her hips up and down, bringing me almost out to the tip before switching directions and taking me to my base. Picking up the speed I find myself using the mattress springs to lightly bounce my cock in rhythm with her motions. It isn¡¯t long until I near the edge of my limits. Suddenly she stops, and, with a grin that would have made the Cheshire cat proud, she starts over from the beginning, slowly bouncing herself up and down. Growling out my frustration and need I lightly pinch and paw at her breasts while thrusting my hips up, throwing off her rhythm, forcing her to hold in place as I slam my dick inside her. When her hands come down on either side of my shoulders and she leans forward to help brace herself I move my hands away from her chest. Placing more power into my pelvis, I bring one hand to grip her tight ass while my other hand comes down to her clit. She gasps at my attentions. Falling to her elbows, she moves her hips to allow for a better angle. As her breasts rock and scrape sensually across my chest, I can tell she is just as close as I am. As the pace picks up and the slapping of our hips echoes out louder and louder, Malika¡¯s arms give out altogther, collapsing on my chest and biting into my shoulder to keep from crying out. As her pussy contracts and spasms around my sensitive rod I thrust one final time as my balls coil and shoot deep inside her core. ****************************************** As I lay there, my body locked up as the monster orgasm seems to climb higher and higher, white hot ecstasy floods my vision before overwhelming my other senses altogether. White. Pure white surrounds me with nothing else except for sand. In the air and at my feet, it swirls and flows throughout the endless space before convening in front of me, turning into a pulsing humanoid form. The white sand comes and pushes itself together before falling apart, not having enough power to form cohesively. Curiosity overcomes me and I reach out, not with my hands but with a different limb. One that comes from within me. Reaching out, I grip and encourage it. Push it together trying to get it to stay that way. It helps, but never for long as it falls off and flows out before pulsing back once more. I continue trying and while it starts to hang suspended for longer periods of time it still resets to loose particles in the blink of an eye. Frustrated, I reach out and when the grains come to the focus point, I squeeze it instead of trying to simply pushing it into place. The sand shifts and I can feel it slide around and move, trying to flow out of my grasp, and its then that I feel the power within the grains. Every single one of them a small kernel of energy that is slowly building up from the power that drifts and permeates this space. The energy is within me as well. I reach inside of myself and use it to give the amorphous sand a helping hand, taking some of the energy from me I form a bond, empowering the sand to finally take shape. I watch on as a piece of me flows into the grains and the shape of a woman takes full form, but I feel something missing. It can still do more, go farther. I squeeze even harder and as I do, the sand turns into something else entirely. Before me now stands a woman made of clear diamond. Full-figured she stands like a perfectly sculpted crystal statue. Releasing my hold I feel the bond finish and know that whatever I did is done. And as I watch the crystal breaks apart, becoming sand once more and returning the bulk of the energy I used to catalyze the process. The sand disperses fully this time, stretching out infinitum, and as one of the grains floats in front of my face, I see that I was wrong. The kernels are not sand. No, they are crystals, just like the woman. Each and every one of them a clear, miniscule piece of glass. Like the tide, the sand flows back together, this time no longer needing my help. I watch as the crystal woman forms once more. I watch this happen again and again, for what feels like an eternity stretched out within a second. As the woman breaks apart and reforms in splendid beauty, my thoughts slowly wash away and become less cohesive. I don¡¯t fight it as waves of bliss crash upon my mental shores carrying away the memories of the moment. As the ecstasy continues to recede the euphoria remains and I open my eyes. Looking at the woman desperately trying to catch her breath on my chest. Another minute passes before her eyes lose their unfocused glaze. She looks to me, a sparkle in her pupils as she slides a delicate hand down my body. My already hard rod takes her by surprise and with a sly grin, I roll her over. It was many hours before either of us got any sleep.
Wetting her parched lips, Malika pulls farther under the covers and judges that the blissful relaxation she currently enjoys far outstrips her need for water. Remaining on her side she coddles Salem¡¯s head into her bust and wraps herself tighter around his toned body. Salem. It was just a name but it showed he had at least come to trust her. Despite her previous protests to the contrary she had come to trust the man as well and after last night¡­ A light nibble on her breasts jerked her from her inner thoughts, signifying that her companion wasn¡¯t so asleep after all. A suckle followed shortly after as if to indemnify the earlier actions, drawing forth a low moan from her before Salem lifted his head from her bosom. ¡°While your breasts make magnificent pillows, they make it rather hard to breathe.¡± He said and she felt how the idea amused him. ¡°Please, the idea of dying in my cleavage probably just gets you hard. Speaking of which.¡± She responded, giving a playful tug of his rapidly hardening member. Scooping her face in his hands he kissed her forehead while saying, ¡°Just let me like brush my teeth or something. Morning after-¡° He stopped abruptly and she felt his confusion as he pulled back from her. Looking him in the eye, Malika simply remained unmoving, raising only a single eyebrow at the chiseled man lying beside her. ¡°You can hear me right?¡± he said but his lips didn¡¯t move. It¡¯s only in that moment that she realized she was feeling more than just his body. No, she could feel his emotions as a barely palpable sensation, like a lingering taste on her tongue. His thoughts seemed small and quiet, like a whisper through the leaves on an autumn day. Timidly she answered, ¡°Yes?¡± yet she made no true sound His eyes blinked rapidly before his brow furrowed and she felt his confusion deepen. She mirrored it as she found something even more startling. She could feel the Earth and upon asking, the Wind whispered its readiness. Standing up she looked further inside of her, and, on a whim, focused on the sensation of flowing and shifting like when she was the sand. No sooner than the thought made than she was human no more. She pushed and moved out of the bed and when she was out of the covers she gathered herself. Another thought and she looked through her human eyes back at Salem. His astonishment had not exceeded her own. ¡°What does this mean?¡± She asked without speaking Her only response was laughter. Hearty, resounding laughter as he fell back down into the mattress. Pulling himself together he looked at her, a crazed grin on his lips and a sharp twinkle in his eye. ¡°I have no clue. But I haven¡¯t really known what¡¯s been happening since the plane crash. Honestly, I just don¡¯t think I care anymore. Is there anything new you can do?¡± He gives his flippant reply out loud this time. Sighing she looked up. While the changes should be disconcerting his words rang true. With everything that had happened so far, who were they to question yet another thing they couldn¡¯t really explain? So far, from what she could tell the world went to hell in a hand basket. They had almost been eaten several. Death seemed ever prevalent. It was time she stopped thinking about everything else. She would live for the present and just go with the flow for now and see where things went. What did all this mean? It might matter but at the moment a far more pressing concern was as he had said. What new things could she do? She could feel the Earth and hear the Wind. But upon further introspection she could feel power thrumming through her body, no longer held back or running through the sand. It was strengthening her. Ever so slightly and barely discernable but the rush that ran through her was seeping into every nook and cranny. As she pondered that she remembered how easily running and moving about had been the days before. She hadn¡¯t really given it much thought but she did seem to have greater stamina and reflexes than she remembered. Perhaps that was the reason why? Moving on, she was just about to see how far she could go with it all when a distressed cry came from out in the hallway. She felt nothing out there but that was what was so disturbing. It was as if a hole in her senses had appeared, as if there was nothing there to begin with. By the time she pulled back from the surroundings, Salem had already thrown on a pair of pants and grabbed a pistol. Throwing open the door he burst out before staggering backwards a step, coming to a halt in the doorway. Hastily throwing on some clothes, she was not far behind. As she approached, Salem staggered out into the hall firing twice before staggering once more and breathing laboriously. Moving to inspect and offer whatever aid she could, she peeked around the doorframe What she saw was almost too disturbing for words. An amorphous creature from a demented horror movie loomed in the hallway. Dark grey skin, the color of polished cement, stretched across every inch of its body. Its arms, stretching all the way to the floor, were thin and spindly like the rest of its body. What was likely the most disturbing of its features, however were the glimmering scythes curled up at the end of its arms or the lack of any features on its head other that the single opening which stretched across its face horizontally, opening to reveal a long tongue and sharp conical teeth. Blood seemed to trail after it, dripping from its maw, and the ends of its arms and legs leading from a still, half-chewed body by the stairs.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Further down the hall, a door opened and the head of someone else who was trying to see what was going on peeked out from his sleeping quarters. That head however swiftly disappeared, before reappearing once more, swiftly speared on the end of one of the creatures¡¯ arms which it then brought up to its lipless mouth. The sharp crunch of skull being devoured accompanied by the dull thud of the headless corpse falling to the floor were the only sounds that echoed through the hall as the two onlookers watched on with bated breath. Another door opened up, across from the first, revealing a large bulk of a man on the other side of the hallway from where the previous occupant just vacated. Whether the monstrosity was still tied up with its snack or his reflexes were sharp enough was unclear, as the man swiftly swung the door between him and the bladed hand that descended toward him. It did little to stop the blow as it shredded wood without pause but it did save his life. At this point Salem managed to gather himself, straightening up and walking forward. ¡°Abomination.¡± Was all Malika heard, but even that was barely a whisper, as he plodded forward, struggling against some immense unseen weight. Gunfire rang out then from the towering man in the doorway, but as she watched, the impacts from the gun merely rippled the grey skin, the malformed bullets falling to the floor. Seeking to offer help, she decided to see how far her abilities would carry her. She focused and stretched her extra mental limb, exploding towards the creature in a burst of power. This time she called upon the Wind, and pushed with the Earth, trying to push the enemy with every literal grain of her being. It was only as she drew near the blind spot the creature in her senses created, that she truly understood the word Salem had previously spoken. Its existence just seemed¡­ wrong. The very air around it and the floor upon which it stood weren¡¯t simply torn from her grasp as she neared. They were tainted, the very essence of what they were had been twisted into something beyond the recognition of the powers that flowed through her. She hesitated at this revelation and that was her mistake. Reacting to the cloud of white dust that moved in its direction, the abomination sliced through the sand and pain reverberated through her very being. Screeching her anguish, she flew back and away from the abomination, returning to her mortal coils behind Salem. As she fell to the floor, her breathing labored, she placed a hand on her side and found the area wet. Bringing it back up to her face, she found it was her blood that wet her. Looking back up at the scene she watched as Salem continued forward, methodically firing upon the creature as he did. Smoke, dark and malicious, wafted from the evil being, as if it was burned by some supernatural fire. Every step the arms dealer took seemed to stoke these fires and several gunshots tore into the abomination. They impacted, the peals ringing out, to little effect though. Another sound began echoing out however, and it wasn¡¯t until the smoke gave way from the head to reveal the face of a child, no older than 10, that she realized the sounds were words, repeated over and over in Arabic. ¡°It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Please, it hurts.¡± The child¡¯s eyes were glazed over in pain and tears stain the cheeks. Several more shots rang out, but still nothing happened, the bullets seeming to be absorbed by the grey skin, until a red hole appeared in the child¡¯s forehead. Then, without further warning, the smoke burst forth in a rapidly dissipating cloud and what fell to the floor is no horrific creature. Instead it was the husk of the boy. One whose face she struck a chord within her. He was one of the inform they had passed on the way into the city. His body, though, no seemed to be sucked dry of life and water, as if a swarm of mosquitos had descended onto his flesh. As Malika looked on, his form didn¡¯t so much as twitch from its position.
Mohammed stared on in horror at what lay in the hallway. A child, no older than Hashim lay there, as if in mockery of the Nightmare that had stood there not a minute before. He simply stared at it, hands still shakily gripping his pistol. Only after five minutes, when the corpse did not stir, did he venture out into the hallway. Other than him, and the dead man and child, the place was empty. The man and woman who had saved his life having retreated back into their room indicated by a thin trail of blood. Whose blood he did not know. Breathing in and trying to calm his nerves he went to the stairs to make sure nothing else would be coming up seekingto harm them. Following theveritable riverof blood the creature had left in its wake, he went to the floor below. He immediately turned away and spewed his small breakfast over the railing. Closing his eyes tightly, he hoped against hope that he could forget the scene that now seared itself into his memory. He staggered back up the stairs, reeling. When he finally got to the top, he found the woman made of sand and the man with the gun were just exiting their room. Slung over the shoulders of the manwearingthe tattered remains of clothes, perhaps once of fine quality, is a large duffel bag and in his arms, is an assault rifle. The woman follows him,in what might have been a flattering dress at one point in time, but is now ripped and shredded to allow for a broad rangeof movement. She holds a pistol in her hands and a durable backpackhangs off her shoulders. Something else catches his eye on the woman. Looking at her side he finds where the trail of blood came from. A gash in her clothes reveals a line of blood tracing its way across her side, as if a horrible gash had traced its way along her ribcage. What leaves Mohammed confused, however briefly, is that there seems to be no trace of any horrible injury. Snapping his eyes away from the mystery, ¡°Wait. If you are leaving can you help us? You can kill the demons yes?¡± he asked gruffly in Arabic, the singular language he knew. He also knew that whatever that thing had been while alive, hehad helpless before it, his singular firearm completely ineffective. He had seen other demons, giant herd animals and lizards, and had heard tales in the brief time of more. If he had any hope of keeping Hashim and Abdul alive, these two would be the answer. The woman spoke up, saying, ¡°We¡¯ve killed a few, but we¡¯ve been lucky so far. We¡¯re not staying here though, and you shouldn¡¯t either.¡± ¡°Yes, I have no plans on staying here, but to leave I need to get to the airstrip nearby, it¡¯s to the North, about a thirty minute drive. Can you get us there?¡± He asks, his deep voice echoing out in the empty halls. The dark-haired woman turns to the man with the sharp eyes, their eyes meet and a conversation plays out. One without words. Apparently reaching a decision the green-eyed woman brings her attention back to him, ¡°We¡¯ll help you get there if you take us with you on whatever plane you¡¯re taking. That¡¯s why you need to get to the airstrip, right?¡± ¡°Yes, I will be taking flying myself, my brother, and my¡­ nephew to Casablanca. Hashim, my nephew, is sick and needs medical care. My brother has many holdings in Casablance, if you wish we can take you two along as well. My name is Mohammed, my brother is Abdul, and Hashim, his son.¡± A nod is all the confirmation he needed. ¡°I am Malika and this is¡­¡± looking to him another silent conversation ensues, one which, if her distasteful expression has anything to tell, is not to her liking, ¡°Belial.¡± Not understanding the meaning of the name Mohammed simply nods his ascent. Stepping over and attempting to ignore the prone bodies, Mohammed pulls open the ruins of the door that leads into the cramped hotel room. Going to his brother he shakes him awake, the man practically in a stupor, going between consciousness and sleep at varying intervals like a narcoleptic, depending on the intensity of the irritation of his skin. He doesn¡¯t know how to protect his family from this, and eying the flakes of skin beneath Abdul finger nails, he knows there is not much time. Groaning awake, Mohammed tells Abdul to simply follow him as he pulls the shorter man to his feet. Putting his pistol back into its shoulder holster, Mohammed scooped the unconscious Hashim into his broad arms. Leading his brother behind him Mohammed stoically nods his sign of affirmation. Moving down the stairs, Mohammed tries to speak a warning to the carnage that will be found but finds that he is too late as Malika stands by the railing, facing away from the hallway and hands fastened in a white knuckled grip around the banister. Staying silent, he watches as the super-sand-woman slowly bends and twists the metal in her hands withoutnoticing. Belial simply stands observing the scene in silence before laying a hand on Malika¡¯s shoulder and speaking something in English that he doesn¡¯t understand. They move quickly from there, whether from a sense of urgency to keep ahead of whatever horrors might come next or desperation to forget the horrors that have already come, none can say. ¡°The car is a few streets over.¡± Mohammed said, gesturing with his head to an alley at the side of the building. As they make their way through the alley, the sound of feet on pavement draws near as does the thudding of something following the former. Drawing to the exit of the alley, which is large enough to drive a car down, a small group of people come into view on the other side of the street, running with a sense of urgency only found in the desperate and scared. Just as come into view however, so does a thick stream of steaming liquid that collide with three of the runners. Screaming in agony the three stumble and fall, and Mohammed watches on as there flesh turns beet red, some of it pealing away altogether from the intense heat. A massive creature trundles into view then, covered in thick scales along its back and tail. Its head, shaped in the form of a crocodile that bears thick armor and light fur inistead of reptilian scales, opens to consume the hot meals. Before the macabre show even has time to begin, however, another one comes into view and looks in their direction. Blocking their view of the grisly scene, the large creature enters the alley and turns around, pointing its steaming tail in the direction. Taking a guess at what is about to happen next Mohammed grabs hold and throws his brother to the ground with Hashim before covering them both with his broad body. Instead of his own screams of torment, the sickening crunch of bone followed by the rending of flesh by tooth and fang is what he heard. After a forever plays out in an instant and the scalding fluids never strike him, Mohammed chances a look back to find a sick perversion of a bipedal raptor dragging the now still corpse of their armored assailant farther into the alley. Gulping down his shock and fear, he watches a formless blob of darkness drop down near the corpse before the all-encompassing black veil falls away to reveal another of these nightmarish creatures without eyes or hands. Looking up he spots one more, clinging to the wall of a building, drop down beside its horrid brethren before ripping into its morning meal, seemingly intent on ignoring their nearby observers. Gritting his teeth and swallowing his instinctual fear at the sight of an unstoppable predator, he throws his dazed brother over one shoulder and Hashim, over the other and runs out into the street, hoping to distance them from the fiends. He is quickly followed by the other two, but they don¡¯t make it far before they realize that their fate has been sealed, as a large herd of the water blasting creatures line the streets. Mohammed looks to the alley across the way, but even that crosses paths with the snacking animal, busy with its three appetizers. Just as several down the road pitch their tail in the direction of the five does all hell truly break loose. *SKKKKREEEEEE* Suddenly the attention of the herd is no longer on the quintet but on the thick pilon of chitin and muscle that towers and writhes above the surrounding structures. Several closest to the Behemoth curl up into a ball while the rest begin spraying their contents with abandon, steam coalescing and shrouding the entire area in a swift blanket of heat and moisture.
Breathing? Check Heart pumping blood? Check Lucidity? ... ¡­ ... Questionable at best by this point. So, I think it¡¯s safe to say that I am alive. So is Malika, Abdul, Mohammed, and Hashim, although he is still out like a light but I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s still breathing. Probably. How are we alive you ask? Yes, indeed how. Well, you see the answer is really quite simple: I have no fucking clue. Not one. Let¡¯s list all the things that have tried to eat us so far, while Mohammed puts the Bentley in gear. Oh, yeah that¡¯s another thing, these were the asshats that left us out on the road yesterday. Anyways, the morning is quickly disappearing, and apparently all the little big beasties decided to extend the hunt this morning. Who still hunts in the morning you ask? Large bipedal stegosaurus-pangolin love children? Present Other large bipedal sharp-toothed shadow cloaking Nightmares? Yup Iguanas from the Land Before Time? Check Foxes that have some crazy-ass gene splicing and can now shoot freakin¡¯ lazer out their ass? They¡¯re here Gigantic, disproportionate Centipede Worm that fell into a vat of toxic waste? Also here It seems that this entire town has become their official war-zone. The craziest part? Some of them seem utterly content to let us helpless little morsels just walk on by. Like the deadly armless creatures, they just seemed all nice and at ease to let the hairless apes do their thing, like you know, lure in prey into a side alley so that they can ambush it. They''re considerate like that. The car jostles as the ground shakes beneath us before my view from the passenger seat is completely obstructed by towering, interlocking plates of chitin. Tires screech and Mohammed spins the wheel on a dime, maneuvering the car down a side passage. As we travel parallel to the fallen behemoth, I note the discoloration of its shell. Not unlike the change in coloration of a lobsters¡¯ shell after its been boiled. As scores of streams of overheated water arches over the still monstrosity, I find that analogy apt. Coming to the end of the street, Mohammed turns the wheel once more and I grip the ¡°Oh shit handle¡± a little tighter to keep my ass in the seat. Who taught him to drive is something that I resolve myself to find out eventually as the rear-end of the car drifts by a signpost with inches to spare. Barreling out of the turn the car picks up speed, heading for the Northern exit of the town. We¡¯re almost there when the pack of 6-legged foxes that we came across earlier fighting with a bank of lizards, leaps out of a nearby alley with an armored people-eater hot on their heels. Too late, the little bastards see the car and with a heavy thud we run over at least two of the critters before a splash and a sizzle comes from the back. Turning around in my seat as the Bentley rockets out of the town and onto the road, I find the rear window heavily distorted and the trunk warped from the heat radiating from the steaming liquid resting on its surface. Reacting as fast as I can I pull the passed-out Abdul forward just as the window melts in on itself. Catching on Malika does the same, pulling herself and Hashim out of the path of the scorching fluids and partially liquified glass. A cry of victory catches in Mohammed¡¯s throat as he catches sight of the scene. Pressing buttons as fast as he can, the windows all around the car lower to let the heat dissipate. Thankfully the airstrip is not far and just as the heat becomes unbearable, we unload from the car. After checking on both Hashim and Abdul, Mohammed helps us carry the two over to a flight hanger. Throwing open the doors he reveals a well-maintained Aerostar 700. A decent sized private airplane with a propeller on either wing. Opening the hatch on the side we load the two meat sacks and buckle them in while the herculean Arab hurriedly runs around to prepare for departure. Honestly after watching him sprint with two people on his shoulders, perhaps Hercules is a distant ancestor? It doesn¡¯t take long to finish his pre-flight routine and as he begins taxing the plane onto the runway, Malika finds a compartment with food and water. It¡¯s only then that I realize how thirst and hungry I am. Greedily gulping down the supplies I sit back in one of the three passenger seats and look out the window. There¡¯s only three seats back here so once Malika gets the unconscious duo to drink some water she sits down in my lap, gazing out the window with me. As the plane turns and the windowopens out towards the west though, I practically jump out of my seat. A distant line of sand and dust stretches across the horizon, and as I watch thesurer I am that it¡¯s not part of the scenery. It¡¯s a sandstorm. It¡¯s coming our way and if we don¡¯t gain enough altitude before it hits¡­ Shit. Leaving Malika with the seat I head into the cockpit and take the copilots seat. It hasn¡¯t been that long since I got my own license and if needed I could probably pilot this thing. As the plane picks up speed and I keep an eye on the altimeter, the wall of sand draws ever nearer with unnerving speed. 50 meters. The sand is no longer a blip on the horizon. 100 meters. The sand consumes the dunes in the distance. 150 meters. The sand swallows the rock pillars that lords over this desert. 200 meters. The sand engulfs the shattered town and its embattled inhabitants. 250 meters. The wind begins to buffet the plane, shaking us, we¡¯re so close. ... We¡¯re not going to make it. 300 meters. The view cuts off from all around us and the plane- Malika is here. She¡¯s in the cockpit with us, face screwed up in concentration and hand braced onto our seats to keep her standing as the plane flies onward and up, spontaneously unaffected by the maelstrom that surrounds us. A dark shape looms in the distance, its size unimaginable. The sand obscures it from my sight but I doubt I would want to see it at all. Like we were never there to begin with, blue sky bursts out all around us, but we continue to climb. Malika collapses to a knee, breathing heavy and sweating profusely, before making her way back to a seat and strapping herself in. Higher and higher until the sandstorm of hidden horrors is but a small ripple on the landscape below us. Leveling off the plane in a Northwest by West bearing, Mohammed relaxes ever so slightly before casting a worried glance into the back of the plane. I gesture to the handle, hoping that my message is clear. My intentions translate and he releases the controls for the plane to me. Unstrapping himself he heads back to check on his family. ¡°Did you see that?¡± the question rings out in my head, unspoken. I keep my eyes forward as I check out as much of the system as I can. Delaying theinevitable reality that question forces. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I thought it was a play of the light at first."Hesitate here for I know it was no illusion."It was huge. What else is out here?¡± I ask back speaking the thought clearly in my head. I can feel the worry she projects, as clear as her words, as is her exhaustion, ¡°I was able to push the sand back a little and ask the Wind for safe passage but when I did, I found something watching us. It knew we were there but it was curious. I feel so tired, my strength barely held out to get us out of there. I don¡¯t know what it would have done to us if we didn¡¯t make it out¡± Her fear is palpable in that last statement Nodding my head, I make my sense of affirmation clear. What could we have done? Nothing, that¡¯s what. I sit there, deep in thought. These abilities, powers, magic, call it what you will, reside in everything that is not normal. The monsters, if the news I have heard is to be trusted, came out of the Central Algeria. After meeting said monsters, sickness ensues. Most die. But we lived? Maybe those that live turn into something else? Like the abomination back in the hotel or like me and Malika? I feel like I¡¯m missing something here though, something important. Where did these monsters come from? Well, when the plane crashed¡­ Oh no. The arrival of the sand monsters was signified by a minor EMP, however, the one that brought down the plane was said to have originated at the poles. If there were things like this coming out in the arctic how long would it take for the world to notice? Mohammed comes back into the pilot¡¯s seat just then, looking worse for the wear. Bags under his eyes seem to just appear as he eases into his seat and exhaustion pours out of him in waves. His eyes close and he is asleep before his head hits the backrest. I look back out of the cockpit and find Malika unconscious as well. Well they said Casablanca, I know the general direction and they have a GPS installed to the side. I just have to figure out how to use it. I also need to figure out the rest of the system and buttons laid out around the cabin. Which just so happen to be explained and written out in Arabic. While also trying to fly this plane across Algeria and then cross the borders of a supposed quarantined zone, likely speaking to over radio in Arabic. All the while multitude of Arab speaker are out for the count. Perfect.