APOCALYCIOUS: Satire of the Dead (52 page)

The mist that crept into their camp had a reddish tint to it like a thin layer of fog set to ambient lighting. It remained close to the ground and traveled serpentine between the sleeping forms. It passed by the knight in perfect silence, and then passed Bodie’s husky body that snored loudly with each inhalation. The dark skinned woman had her face pressed against the man’s chest. He had remained unchanged as he passed through the gate, and his athletic wrestler’s physique shielded her with an arm beneath her neck and its hand resting on her head.

The mist writhed and hovered above Mick’s sleeping form. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed. The unformed mist began to coalesce into one of substantial form and a smooth red skull, revealing the Bludglutton and it glowed softly above the sleeper’s face.

Slowly the Bludglutton became more and more solid as arms formed and braced themselves on either side of Mick’s head. It leaned closer and made not a sound as its hinged jaw swung open. It breathed in deeply and a ribbon of gray-white ether flowed from Mick’s parted lips into the gaping jaws of the red crystal skull. The ribbon filled the skull but its color remained unchanged by the new presence within as it was filled. The skull closed its jaws with a light click as the crystal teeth touched.

The Bludglutton rose and peered down at the shriveled husk of dry skin that draped over even drier bones. Mick’s eyelids were sunken and indented; with no fluids within the eyes, they too had shriveled. The dry flesh was pasty white, like tissue paper and Mick’s lips had receded revealing his teeth that were set in hardened gums. The Bludglutton turned its attention to the woman who still slept and leaned toward her.

With a howl of fury a half-lupine, half-human figure speared into the side of the Bludglutton’s body and pinned it to the ground. Daniel’s jaws snapped ravenously as they tore at the bones beneath its black leather armor.

Mia woke with a start as the Lycan’s jaws clamped down on the forearm of the Bludglutton with a loud crack. The wolf growled savagely with each bite. Mia clutched at her husband trying to awaken him.

“Mickey!” she screamed, but Mick’s head only rolled to one side at an askew angle. She jumped to her feet, her eyes wide in horror and backed into the knight. Mia stared at her husband’s desiccated corpse in the weak light of the dying embers of their campfire and collapsed to her knees.

The knight and dwarf rushed past Mia, protecting her. Bodie watched as Daniel gnashed his two inch fangs into the bones of the assassin.

As they hefted their weapons the Bludglutton dissolved back into mist with an anguished moan of pain and ethereally snaked its way back into the shadows. Daniel raised himself to its full height and crashed after it through the tall weeds that circled their camp.

Regeliel turned to Mia and stared at his friend, Mick lying lifeless in the grass. Mia’s mouth worked slowly, but no words came out.

The knight pulled Mia to her feet and cradled her against him, shielding her eyes from the visage of her dead husband. He too felt a great sorrow fall over his heart, but he knew that his pain was nothing in comparison to hers. He had no words for her. There were no words.

Bodie looked up at the knight in bewilderment.

“The Gemini will help us. Gather our packs, we must leave now,” said the knight quietly as he rocked the woman in his arms.

“We can’t just leave him there,” Bodie said.

“Daniel will guard him, trust that. We will bury him after we go to the Gemini.”

They left Mick lying silent and still beneath the stars that again peeked through the clouds. Daniel had returned and sat on his haunches behind the dead man. His teeth were bared and looked even longer and sharper than they had before, like ivory daggers that dared the Bludglutton to return.

                                    
Chapter 63 - The Great Easter Island Turkey Shoot

Easter Island
 

             
A runway crossed the southern part of Easter Island slanting down from west to east, while a large residential grid-work of streets, homes and other buildings crossed the upper and middle part of the island. A large dock of piers was situated on the eastern side and they could see small, moving dots. As they hovered over the runway, they saw the dead wandering to and fro spread out to cover the entire island.

             
“I thought Easter Island was deserted,” Arlington said.

             
“Looks like this is the part that the Discovery channel never showed,” agreed Death.

             
“There must be a thousand of them,” Nan said in disappointment

             
Basil ears perked up like a Doberman's, “Two thousand and twelve, actually.”

             
“Thanks for the update, buzz kill,” Arlington said.

             
“Why don’t you blast them with your lasers or whatever other science fiction gadgets you’ve got?” Death asked.

             
“I believe you are thinking of Star Trek,” Basil said in a bored tone of voice. “The only weapon we have is defensive. It’s an electromagnetic pulse which would permanently disable the electrical system. If you are still thinking of inhabiting this parcel of land then I do not recommend it.”

             
Basil settled the ship at the southern end of the runway and the dead immediately began to change their courses and converge on their position.

             
“That can’t be good,” Death said, shaking his head.

             
“It’s the ship,” Basil explained, closing his eye and continued talking with his eye closed. “I believe it is the frequency of its vibrations, they are drawn to.”

             
“Great. So every time we’re in this tin can they’ll be swarming all over us,” Death said with a grunt of disapproval.

             
Nan’s eyes widened. “What if we use that as an advantage? What if we just hover offshore, you know lure them out into the tides?”

             
“It’s not like they are gonna drown,” Death remarked dryly.

             
Nan ignored the comment. “Once we’ve baited them off shore then we could set down on the beach and then we could easily pick them off as they struggle through the surf to get to us. It would give us plenty of time to kill most, if not all, of them.”

             
Basil’s eye shot open, the crimson orb flashed with excitement. “Yes, that is an excellent trap, and it is a trap that we could repeat if need be as they would unwittingly follow the vibrations again.”

             
“It’s too bad there wasn’t a high cliff and we could really Wiley Coyote them,” Arlington said.

             
Nan looked back at Death in triumphant vindication. “Well…?”

             
“Sometimes I forget how smart you are,” Death said with appreciation. “Sorry.”

             
“I’m not sure how to take that, but thank you…I guess.” Nan said, crossing her arms in front of her.

             
“Yeah, I guess that didn’t come out quite right. I think it’s a good idea and we should try it,” Death consented.

             
Arlington nodded to the Anubis at the helm and Basil flew the ship about one hundred feet off shore and hovered there. The dead howled and changed their course as the group inside the ship waited. The dead surged into the surf, floundering, but most kept their footing, as they trudged offshore toward the ship.

             
“It’s working,” exclaimed Nan.

             
“Yes, ma’am, it is,” Arlington said and patted her on the back. “It’ll take them awhile though, they ain’t real fast.”

             
“I suppose we should get the rifles ready for this turkey shoot.” Death muttered.

              The dead continued to file into the surf. Many wore Hawaiian style shirts, but they couldn’t be sure if the patterns were of tropical flowers or dried blood stains. Some were knocked down by the breakers, but they immediately rose and floundered onward.

             
The ship hovered in place for almost a half an hour before they reached the distance of the ship. Basil guided the ship back to the beach and settled lightly upon the sand. The heads of the dead and their flailing arms were all that could be seen in the neck deep water.

             
They exited the ship and assumed shooting positions. Laptu ran past behind them, hooting like a hyper active kid and darted for a cluster of bushes.

             
“Pooping?” Nan asked.

             
“More than likely; he’s pretty regular,” Arlington answered.

             
They opened fire on the dead, placing their shots carefully. Nan was a little squeamish at first and followed her first few shots with
Ewww
or
Yuk!
But then she started competing with her husband and found that she was killing more than he was.

             
“This is actually kinda fun!” Nan, said then added, “In a twisted sort of way.”

             
Death had never taken pleasure in finishing the dead, but his wife’s enthusiasm was contagious, and paired with his desire to provide a safe place for her, it spurred him to completely engross himself in the carnage. He was impressed with Nan’s marksmanship and told her so.

             
Nan beamed at the praise. “Thank you Death,” she said sweetly. “Headshots are my passion.”

             
“Not that again,” Death said indignantly, and squeezed off another round that canoed a female’s head from the bridge of her nose up.

             
“You’ve got yourself a good woman there, brother.”

             
“Yeah, I’m a lucky guy,” he said, giving Nan a quick wink as he pulled the bolt back then slammed it forward in quick succession, chambering another round.

              The sun began to melt into the horizon of the sea in hues of reds and pinks that gave way to deeper shades of purple, above which stars sparkled brightly. If it had not been for the dead and the gore that spilled from them washing onto the previously pristine beach, it could have passed for a Sandals resort commercial.

             
“Let’s call it a day. Tomorrow we can start to burn the bodies,” Death said

             
“Gross!” Nan said, crinkling her nose and looking exceptionally cute. Death began to feel that ache in the nether regions again and forced himself to think of something else.

             
“It does need to be done,” Arlington agreed, “Diseases and all that.” Arlington looked up and down the beach then turned and scanned the hill behind them. “Have you seen Laptu?”

             
“Not since he ran for the bushes,” Death said.

             
“We’ll help you look for him,” Nan said.

             
Arlington noticed Death’s expression change as she said this and decided to help the guy out. “No, it’s getting dark. I’ll go, you two get some rest.”

             
Death placed his palm in the middle of Nan’s back as she started to object. “I don’t think that it’s very safe going out alone.”

             
“Maybe, but if something happens to me then it’ll be up to the two of you to finish my job for me. If we’re all dead then what good will we be?” Arlington reasoned.

             
Nan didn’t like it, but she allowed it, this time. “Be careful, Mr. Neff.”

             
“Arlington. Mr. Neff is my dad.” He smiled and began to reload his Winchester before walking up the beach, calling for his hairy friend.

              The Island’s topography was plains for the most part. The hills all seemed to emerge from the edges of the island, curving up for fifty to a hundred yards then becoming mostly flat. The terrain was easy to navigate as there was little overgrown vegetation. The former inhabitants of the island had maintained it well for the tourist trade.

             
Arlington cupped his hand and hook around the sides of his mouth “Laptu!” he shouted, then stopped and listened for a response before walking further inland and yelling again. The reds and purples of the dying day gave way to darker shades of blue, and the colors rippled with the waves painting away, with brushstrokes only God could command, the scourge bruising the beach. But with its beauty it also brought new hazards as the dead seemed to rely on smell and feel as well as sight, if not more so, and Arlington was beginning to feel very vulnerable and exposed in this sparse landscape.

             
“Laptu!” he called again. Arlington listened and heard nothing. As he began to walk again the silence of the island was broken by a familiar wail. It was a sound of aching, an ache that had no remedy; the choral songs of the dead. Arlington had known that killing all of the dead in Nan’s trap was slim to none, but even knowing that, he shivered violently as a chill raced down his spine.