Sam, impatient of listening to the annoying hum of pubescent voices and watching this stale mate calls their bluff and jumps into their numbers and begins to beat through some of the children. They detonate like sacks of flesh from his devastating blows. He pulverizes them as he walks by, Cater still holding on to her last words. “Sam! No.” She yells out, to deafened ears.
“This is fun.” He urges, beating on one like a side of lamb. This one hides behind the shelter of a telekinetic body field and absorbs the first of the blows. However, it eventually wears and the child quickly succumbs to the devastation. Suddenly, the earth shatters with a stream of uplifting soil and destructive sound wave. Grass, trees and children uproot and disintegrate from Deano’s attack, chasing away few and fueling the rest. They respond with a telekinetic volley of debris and weapons where the blur rushes in at 60 miles an hour and gently bounces of them, doing no more than bruise the group from the offensive. Deano watches the approach of a humming vibro blade and catches it with clawed fingers. He quickly examines it and places it under his belt. Without further halt, he continues to beat, rip and shatter the not so innocent children. He had no problem with this he concedes; recognizing that they are armed and dangerous and that they will continue their reign of destruction if not stopped. However, part of him agrees with Carter as she attempts to urge them not to use excessive force. But when in Rome... He chases down a small group of children, whom he recognizes their attempt to lure him into another ambush. If only they knew.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Internal chatter pushes the walls of sanity to the limit that verges on pain and ecstasy. Thoughts and actions become mired images of random realities and dreams, to where colors and sounds drown under the bogs of layering voices that are not her own. They pry and feel their way beyond to defy the boundary of resistance as one or another precariously taunts and prods with words of contradiction - this act, to confuse and distract her from her search - where the absence of control dwells within the seclusion of the fire. It is the shuffling pieces of young limbs that pull her out of her haze as she watches the blood pool at her feet in rivers of burning. Laughter greets her with burdensome insertion where child and monster interact in a dance of mayhem. Sam pushes through the body of a sick, diseased child who attempts a barrage of flying debris from crippled houses to provide defense from his defeat. Despite their strength and number, they are no-match for the muscle and experience of her rag-tagged team of misfits. Which brings into question the whereabouts’ of Deano Bravo, was he off feasting again or did he simply wish to sit this one out? Then the adulating smile from a young, innocent face as it looks up toward her in question. The little girl appears to be free from the tyrannous control of the evil corruption, whereas she raises a defiant hand for assistance then opens it. Suddenly, miniature glowing sticks pyre within her unclenched hand and finds flight, where telekinesis is the fuel, toward her. Shock glues her feet to the ground as she watches the smile fade to become a grin. Then the burning of penetrating slivers entering her abdomen and left leg and pierces her tolerance for pain. They played upon her senses, her inner sanctum of nurturing acceptance, where she sees the inherent innocence within all beings before the hatred. And this is her thanks, the gratitude as betrayal fills her mouth with cold, raw shredding with the burst of pain-manifested shrieks. She doubles over from the pain and watches the girl as she generates a glowing rod of brilliant white in her right hand and steps closer. Suddenly shock flashes across the girl’s face with a moment of interlude. She tilts forward and falls to her knees, gripping at an unseen menace in her abdomen. Carter, unable to see the cause, considers urging to the girl’s side to see the manner of her problem, then remembers her deception. This could be another rouse.
The girl looks up at her, through her in defiance. Her blade fades in her hand along with the light in her eyes. She falls with Deano Bravo, the night in disguise, behind her with blood filled claws. A streak of blue, then nothing and she pulls to one side, her hand quickly growing warm with liquid life. She attempts to find a center, a focal light where pain becomes numbness so that she can carry on her cause. But the light never comes, only the flood of pain.
From her pouch, she claims the silver pistol and examines it with fevered doubt. It was not the doubt that it would not work, but that she had already used one shot and she only had the two. If there were a more pressing moment to use it, it would be then and not now. But the pain burns within her and rational thought sinks with the pitch that screams in her abdomen. She concedes that the moment is now and turns the barrel toward her self with jittery fingers and fires. The ensuing thunder spits a single flash of silver-white and buries the perfect sphere into her innards, where the fire explodes with the added provocation. She crashes to her knees from the additional pain and attempts to find breath, pure, crisp breath. From her scream, her associates double back and find her crouched over on the ground, in her hand a silver pistol. Sam looks upon it in recognition, Deano not. He falls beside her in interest of the ‘what’ had happened, but finds her breathless and silent.
“Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”
“Why?”
“Because she just shot herself with a super bullet that will heal her – That’s why.”
Deano fails to understand and dismisses the explanation. However, it is the sudden appearance of children who encircle them that draws his attention away from her. He slowly rises to his feet and looks upon Sam, who now shares his perspective and takes a more suitable stance for the mayhem.
Sam kicks a clump of grass to one’s face and gyrates upon his toes toward another. The child’s head rears from the clump and he falls, with a bleeding nose and limp neck. Deano performs a perfect cartwheel and turns it into a mid air kick and smashes two of the children, sending them reeling backward, onto the solid ground. Their fall, a massive thud. The remainder of the children considers retreat and rush off into the shelter of the trees. Sam follows where Deano returns to Carter’s side and cups her into his arms. She simply returns a blank stare and falls to sleep. He rushes after Sam, finding him a few feet later, beating an invisible wall of force that bubbles him. His first rampantly beat against the surface, repeating the mime act with poor proficiency. Yet, a few more blows collapse the wall and he emerges and continues after the dim lit horizon.
The air carries a slight sent of smoke and decay, where a plume begins to reveal itself over the thick of dense trees and mountainous rocks. Deano sniffs at the acrimony and estimates a massive pyre where flesh is the fuel; “Smells like trouble.” He announces as he follows behind the behemoth who smashing the trees with his bulk as he passes.
Carter begins to stir in his arms and hazards a demur stair upon her carriage, and allows pleasure to sweep her lips at the recognition of the blue hair demon.
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Chapter Thirty-Six
Tall, thin stone columns outline the periphery of the squared shape stone platform that rises off the ground some eleven feet. In the center, a massive pyre ascends with decadent fingers of amber and crimson that tickles the absent sky, releasing fairy and pixie light with the waves of searing heat. The acrimony hangs over the land like a dense fog of sullen black, where the pitch of the screaming, tormented fills the thick. Child and adult stand in rows, the adults chained together at the throats and the children their masters, who manipulate and force them into the fires. Those at the front of the row jump blindly into the pyre, where their weight pulls at the chain, drawing the next in by succession. The children do not laugh or take delight in their actions. They simply watch the rows of five enter from lower entrances and stand before them, awaiting their destinies. Upon the platform stand five groups of people, who walk toward the flames and continue into the waves of supernatural heat without pause. They do his as a forced act under the urging and control of many children and two priests. The first is a tall robed figure with familiar features. The second of the two is an older man, who wears similar robes as the first. She recognizes both.
“Samiari-Roth!” She curses in exclamation, pointing toward the robed being who rises above the altar of fire with dark ambition.
“Sami Who? What kind of name is that?” Sam looks around upon hearing his name, then realizes that she does not speak of him.
Deano places her back on her feet and she finds strength enough to keep erect, despite the rawness in her stomach. “Yeah! ...Any relation to David Lee? Jeez, this sounds like the makings of a bad 80’s hair band.” Deano offers. First smiling at his cleverness then lets it drop with the tone as he finishes the last part under his breath.
“Who?” She twirls around. Her hair following like a mass of whips lashing out in penance. Her face still bears the grimace of pain.
“Never mind.” Looking deeply into her eyes, in disappointment.
“What says you to making this cock sucker’s life a living hell?” Sam questions of Deano, looking down upon the impressive menace with more puzzlement in his eyes then concern.
“I’d say we’ve already done that. Let’s go make a habit of it.” With another sly smile. His edged teeth shatter the light, standing out from the pitch revealing him self more out of betrayal than purpose.
“There’s a plan.” They share a smile and thunder toward the tall priest, still carrying the macabre grins over their blood lust lips.
The tall priest notices their approach and nears the end of the stone platform with the pyre illuminating him from the back like a demon stepping out of the gates of hell themselves. “You have finally come to return what is rightfully mine.” Roth’s voice carries over the docile breeze of cold misfortune, with the éclat of dying civilizations. The words appear to emanate from his being for his lips of piercing edges do not move upon their assertion. He reaches out toward Sam’s approach, his face a mask of consternation where eyes of coal turn to flame with a hint of scorn. The two men casually walk side by side toward the platform dispatching the children with impunity as they near. They fail to notice Carter’s lack of presence as they advance.
“Are you talking about this?” Sam holds out the amulet like a medal of bravery, to taunt Roth and confuse Deano. Deano simply looks at the metallic flash in wonder and questions silently Sam’s motive for collecting and hiding the artifact. Roth looks upon it like a prize to be reclaimed where the undefined benefits carry far more prays then the simple possession. Deano simply did not know the benefits.
“Yes…” The priest hisses, this time his lips move as though sucking the air with anticipation but the voice still emanates from within him. Suddenly a magnificent roar issues from his throat shattering the dark horizon with the quake of his strength. With his head begging the heavens for redemption, he opens his robes and allows his nakedness to bathe within the cold stream of the early morning rise. His wrinkled body stirs under his movements exposing his penis, which draws out into a fine cone point to sag above his heavy scrotum like massive clumps of gray elephantine skin. Just above his coarse, black pubis rests a fold that stems across his abdomen like a clenched mouth without lips. Suddenly the men begin to notice a tail form behind Roth’s parted legs. The slime-covered purple and yellow mass gleams from the fire’s radiance, quickly grows as it falls to the ground in a coiled lump. It is not until they near that they realize that Roth is shedding his entrails and that the pouch slowly opens, deforming his abdomen and chest. “Prepare to face your doom.” Outstretching his etched index toward them. The Talon absorbs the light with thirsty ambition. From the pouch emerges a thick limb with massive teeth that outstretch like fingers, chattering and biting at the space between them. The alien limb then coils around to face one then the other, continuing to bit hungrily and rapaciously at each. From each hand he fires massive balls of blue energy that crackle from the detonation of pulverized ozone. They blindly speed toward the men as they watch impending uncertainty with gross shock. The balls strike them creating envelopes of paralyzing energy arcs around them. Flesh and hair burn and melt from the heat, adding to the acrimony of the air. Deano drops and rolls across the ground, attempting to extinguish the magic fueled flames in vain. Sam simply attempts to absorb it but fails as his skin continues to smolder. His clenched fingers release, dropping the amulet to the ground with a faded flash. It disappears along with the pain.
Children quickly form a string circle around them, laughing and taunting them as they attempt to recover from the surge. Sam watches one running with impending victory in his steps and amulet in hand, heading toward Roth. The two fiery spheres approach the horizon over the treetops and shed light over the gloom of the morning chill.
Sam first glances upon the circle of children, then to Deano and Carter. He wished it not come to this, but his end will be realized - even if it meant going through them. He smiles at the child before him, as she bears a mask of concentration. He can feel the light flutter in his head, but it amounted to a simple buzz and nothing more. He coils and jumps upon her head, crushing her to the ground to a fine pulp and jumps again. This one, much harder, much faster, much farther as he lands upon the head of the fleeing child.
“Were you waiting for this – Roth?” He asks, bending over to reclaim his prize from the pulped hand of the child. He then stands up straight and proudly displays the amulet by holding it in the air like the severed head of Medusa.
Roth shrieks from the defeat. His symbiote lashes at the space before him like a blinded bull suffering from an aneurysm. Sam watches the teeth rapaciously chattering, as though biting into the fluff of the ethereal air around it and shakes his head in amusement. Suddenly, the edge of the platform collapses from a massive shockwave, sending Samiary-Roth to the ground with his chattering sybiote. His body hits the ground like a lead weight.
Sam jumps at the opportunity and begins to pummel Roth’s head into the ground, slamming and stomping his massive foot into the crown of his head, as if he were squishing a bug. Roth blindly lashes at his feet, as they descend, yet greet the empty air where the absence resonates with his forehead smashing against a stone fragment from the platform. This will be a quick defeat.
Suddenly, the air erupts under brilliance, blinding the children, the sacrifices and Sam with the radiance. Sam spins around to greet the origin of the flash and finds the two floating orbs approach and descend toward the ground.
