Dusk Territories: Always Burning (30 page)

Thin moss-colored insect wings sprouted from his shoulders.
No one touches them.

_

Buzzing. The night sky rippled with the sound of buzzing.

Two officers, Eric and Aaron, was patrol on the rim of Huston. Night settled in pretty well amongst the long streets. Most of the time, security wouldn’t even be this tight. No one dared to enter the city at this time of night. The city was fairly quiet, aside from the rattle of gun fire from time to time. Usually it was to put down a savage mutant that stumbled their way across the city’s divide. Even then, it was usually short and followed by endless silence. Buzzing never came into play.

At first they tried to ignore it. The two soldiers, both lean and cladded in black armor, continued on their path. The buzzing slowly increased in volume. When it began, it was only a small sound like a ringing in the ears. Now, it was loud like a monstrous wasp or mosquito. The radio linked into their helmets crackled and fizzed, humming as though jammed. Aaron, the shorter of the two, removed his ear piece. He tapped against his helmet for a moment, befuddled. “Know what’s going on here?” he asked, finally taking the entire helm off.

“Something may be up with the tower, hell if I know. I’m no tech expert,” his partner answered, glaring towards the tower.

But that didn’t explain the buzzing. Even with his helmet off, Aaron heard how loud the buzzing actually was. It swelled
into his eardrums, rocking them with a hurtful frequency. He touched the inside of his ear. Blood stained his gloves. “I don’t think this is a normal thing.”

Aaron waited for a response from Eric. All he received nothing but a wordless croak.

“What’s going—oh—damn.”

That was the last word he said, before having his face ripped off.

_

After doing it for so long, killing became easy.

Wood landed in the city, as stealthy as a giant creature could to kill those men. Their deaths were quick. Blood stained his claws from the first. He ripped him in half before the second one even noticed. By the time the second man looked up, all he saw was Wood’s maw ripping his face off his skull. Even now, he sat at his feet, blood gushing from the muscles and eyeballs rolling on the floor.

When he landed, his buzzing stopped. No one
heard the screams of the mauling, he was sure. To have an entire fire team on his back could get bloody fast,
and he had no clue what they possessed. He had to think through this. The transformation never took his mind, only desensitized certain parts. Speech wasn’t an option, and some actions felt more like an animal. But he could still process thought, though a bit less complex. He needed to get to the tower.

Within the city limits, the world was much darker. Shadows of the tall buildings overlapped each other’s endlessly, where street lights used to illuminate the roads.
He tried to keep his hands—paws, maybe they could be considered paws—quiet. Colors were difficult to discern in this form.
Blues were almost greens and reds were gone. Yet, he managed and it helped in certain situations. The verdict was out on whether it would be harm or hindrance here.

The first building that he came across that looked steady enough, he climbed. His claws sunk deep into the concrete, scaling upward. Underneath, he heard the sounds of boots and chatter from Ancestor soldiers underneath. Distance repressed their words, but their concern was rising. He was going to have to act fast. Once he reached the top, the horizontal leaps began.

Moonlighting like a werewolf, he jumped from one toppled building to another. Occasionally, he would have to use his wings for a brief instant to ensure he made it. Mostly, however, he made it on his own legs strength. The Ancestors set up a radio tower in the middle of town. For something that was built months after many metals stopped being produced, it stood taller than most buildings. Radio been the first thing that humanity had gotten back up, but this was ridiculously well built: polished well, made of high quality metals, and well manned.

Wood wanted to tear it down. But it held a use. Sweet thoughts of destruction caused him to mistime a jump almost sending him crashing into a window. He adjusted himself at the last minute, wheeling around on the metal siding. Scurrying up, the murmurs underneath seem to get louder and words above began to clear up. There were men up here. He would have to kill them.

“What’s going on down there?”

“Don’t know, but haven’t heard from Aaron or Eric.”

“You mean that chatty bunch?”

“Yeah them.”

“Good riddance if they fell somewhere. They were dicks anyway.”

“True that.”

“But, I’m not getting a good feeling about this.”
      

That man was right, but he didn’t know how right until Wood leaped over the side.

“What the hell is that?”

Wood lunged forward, catching the first man as he raised his gun. His swipe was beyond quick, tearing through the man’s armor, splitting him unevenly from the right arm to the torso. The second man acted much quicker, pulling his assault rifle out and firing wildly. Bullets rattled against Wood’s exoskeleton. Wood responded in kind with his own projectile, a glob of thick green acid. It struck against the man’s helm, burning through it, then dissolving his face and skull in a matter of seconds. For good measure, Wood stomped on his neck.

Alarms went off, and Wood growled.

Cover gone, Wood sprinted towards the tower. He soared into the air, thin but large insect wings flapping loudly upon take off.
Red laser sights soon gathered against his body, bullets soon following. Keep moving. He had to keep moving. Flying wasn’t his best skill, but he made it work. Very few bullets hit as he dashed through their defenses. Green blood stained his arm as he landed on
the crown of the tower. Four men and one woman stood in his way, and he was beyond just angry.

Wood didn’t hesitate in his landing. He leaped towards his first enemy, grabbing the man. In a massive show of strength, he shattered his entire body by slamming him on the iron mesh below them. The woman attacked next, shooting her machine gun directly at Wood’s face. He responded in kind with a swift right, dodging any bullets that he could, and back with a left swipe. She tumbled down the side, screaming loudly as she fell to her doom.

The three remaining men attacked at once. Collectively, their damage was greater. The ammunition finally pierced through the armor, landing through Wood’s flesh. However, it didn’t stop him. He kept his attack. The acid he used against the other man would wear down the tower, so that was no longer an option. Instead, he focused on using the mass of this body. He charged forward, slamming against the man to the far right, caving the man’s chest in.

The man in the middle, caught by the ferocity of the attack tried to reload quickly. Wood didn’t allow him, and paid him by beheading him.

It left one man alone. This man stood with no bravery left in his system and a side arm shaking in his hand. Wood just stared, moving slowly like a predator. He went to attack. The remaining soldier beat him to it. The built man jammed his own gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The blood didn’t have any color in Wood’s eyes and the black grain, but he knew it was everywhere
. It was always everywhere,
he thought sluggishly.

A mission had to be done, however. He couldn’t entertain that thought.

Making it to the tower was the objective, and he had completed it. Only one thing left: the broadcast. Drifter always had a
plan, a backup to his backup. Wood held the key to this plan. Even through his pain, he opened his wings up, emitting a sharp-high pitched sound throughout the city. This would be the call of death.
I did it,
Wood thought as he finally gave into the pain of his wounds. He collapsed on the ground and his world blacked out around him.

_

Huston was on fire. Wood knew this by the glow on Drifter’s sunglasses.

      
I’m alive.
He had been awoken by the sway of the helicopter and the smell of antiseptics. His skinny body was wrapped, bandages clotted with blood. Moving hurt and a mental fog settled in his eyes. It took him a while to readjust. Not trusting himself to move, Wood just stared at the form beside him. For a long time he just stared at boots, his neck still throbbing endlessly. Slowly, he allowed his eyes to wander up to see Drifter standing in the open door of the aircraft.

Drifter’s open, red Hawaiian shirt fluttered around his skinny body like a cape. One hand was firmly on the metal bar above him, the other kept his tan boater hat on his head.
He hadn’t noticed that his nephew was awake, just staring blankly at the scenery beneath him.
The reflection of fire licked up to the sky in his dark sunglasse
s. Smoke lined his
body, this time not by a pipe, but by the world burning underneath him. Somehow, it was the same, he still set the embers.

With a painful lurch, Wood sat up. Drifter noticed the movement, acknowledging it with his fierce blue eyes. “Welcome back, sonny.”

“Wher—“he couldn’t even finish his word before his throat shut from pain.

“Don’t talk. Just ride.”
      

Wood took the advice with grace and relaxed himself.

“I don’t know if ya ‘member him. Bardon Grimstad.” Drifter pointed to the cockpit with the crown of his head. “Why don’t you say hello, bubba?”

“Howdy,” Bardon responded.

“And he brought some
company
.”

Wood knew now what happened.

It rained fire.

Bardon Grimstad was one of the few people besides Drifter with a plan. He controlled what was formerly a piece of the Air Force. Thusly, he had weapons. Without a president, without an order, most people in his power would have run with it
. Yet, the only two things that mattered to him once the world went to hell
were his daughter and protection of the people. He and plenty of his high ranking buddies settled within places along the Tear, for a moment like this.

“Thanks for calling me, Wood. Would shake your hand, busy piloting this here helicopter.”

Wood nodded his thanks as well. Drifter relayed it for him, adding: “Thanks for saving my boy.”

Bardon chuckled. “Always coming to save your ass is getting old, man. But consider it a pleasure.”
      

Drifter shared in the laughter, but unlike most times, it didn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes stayed focused on the burning
. Gunfire and explosions sung into the air. Nothing seemed to faze him; he just pulled the brim over his brow.
The grin on his face felt different, like his voice.
Where before it held some amusement to how twisted the world was. Now, it held something different, something that even the closest person to the Drifter couldn’t figure out.

“Grimstad. Pardon me for bein’ a bad host.”

The thin dark skinned man with a long greying ponytail nodded, saying: “Are you late for a party, Drift?”

“No. The party doesn’t start until I get there. But, still, I don’t want my guests to fight over the appetizers when they don’t got the main course.”

Lowering altitude, the helicopter swung down. Grimstad held an amazing control over his aircraft
, weaving through the worst of it all.
As they descended, Wood saw the rest of the Drifter’s team as well as a captive. The young person was held up by Pub, bound by a thick cord and a hood over his head. He had been stripped of all weapons and gear, his upper body completely bare. Burns lined his body from the airstrikes, but was treated well. No one wanted him to die before Drifter got there.

Undulating of the helicopter’s propellers startled him. His small head whipped back and forth, trying to figure out what the sound was. Fear settled well from the darkness of the cowl that covered his head and bound his neck. Sweat gleamed from his body. The Tear was hot, the flames didn’t help much.

“Meet our honored guest,” Drifter said, fixing his hat firmly on his head and giving Wood a hand up. “This is our
honored
guest and Grandson of the order known as the Ancestors. I present you, Mr. Damien Howard.”

They stepped off the helicopter, the winds still whipping all around them. Wood passed Drifter his cane, which he declined. “You use it my boy, you need it more than me right now.” His legs wobbled underneath him, quaking and unsteady. Grateful, Wood did as he was told and used the cane as his strength.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Howard,” Drifter said approaching the man. “I’m the Drifter, and your kind has sinned against me.” In a soft, deliberate motion, he untied the cord around Damien’s throat. “What do you say of that?” He pulled the black cloth from the man’s head as the engines of the helicopter turned off behind them.

Damien gave a loud gasp as he took in free air. His slick brown hair was dripping sweat, and he coughed
violently. He looked like a child pretending to be a man with his tuff of a beard and quaking expression.
“You know never mind. Breathe, we have all day. Relax,” he was told as he whined. “Allow me to talk to you for a minute. Just give into an old man’s ramblin’.”

“You see. I’ve been thinkin’. What if bees watched flowers die? Just never had the energy to go from one to another. What’s the quote, you can bring a horse to water but you can’t make it drink. So, does the horse want to die of thirst as it watches the water? Or does it prefer being drowned in it, I wonder? Drink or drown was the choices I was given. Life or withering. Tell me what would you choose, Mr. Howard?”

“Drink…life…” the soldier coughed.

“Classic choice. That’s the choice I made too. Congratulations.
Life. Drink. But what if the pond is empty? What if the flowers die? What then. What are we left with? That choice was taken from us. We didn’t get to drink. These people,”
he extended his arms, “They’re dyin’ of thirst and watching their flowers die. For what reason…”

“I kept asking myself that over and over.” Drifter lowered himself to the man’s level, squatting. “I don’t have that answer. I just don’t. Who? I have that answered. Why? I don’t. Can you tell me why? Or is it the same reason that a wolf prefers to eat meat, it’s just in their nature.”