Untitled (29 page)

       "Are we going to be able to move him?" Megan asked with genuine concern.

       "Its not a case of able," Kaci replied. "We have to... we can't leave him here."

       "Don't even talk about leaving me," Peter added. "I don't care how much it hurts, you're taking me with you."

       "I'll hold you to that when you start screaming," Kaci joked without much humour and then looked over at Megan. "There's a first aid kit and an emergency stretcher in the rear compartment."

"And that would be?" Megan frowned.

       "Small compartment where the prop meets the main body. Just release the four catches and it'll pop open."

       Megan nodded and then climbed upwards, pushing open the door and peeking out into the clearing. She was glad for the passing of day to early evening. The sun had already dropped below the tree line and the heavy shadows hid the scene of slaughter she knew surrounded the chopper. It didn't, however hide the smell, the heavy aroma of drying blood and coagulating gore.

       She attempted to breath through her mouth, but the aroma was so strong that she would've sworn she could taste the death in the air. Pushing thoughts of liquidised body parts out of her mind she pulled herself out, her hands slipping on the coating of now cold sludge covering the body of the chopper.

       "You gonna be OK?" Harrison asked from below.

       "I'll be fine," Megan replied. "I have to be." With that she slid from view, leaving Harrison and Kaci to deal with Peter.

       "When you said hurt," Peter asked. "How much hurt where you talking about?" Peter gave Kaci a smile, one tinged with the signs of fear.

       "I'm not gonna lie to you," Kaci answered. "On a scale of one to ten this is gonna hurt right up there in the twenties."

       "Couldn't you have just lied... I would have preferred a lie."

       Kaci manoeuvred herself around and told Harrison to join her, getting him to take a position astride Peter's hips.

"I need you to hold his leg just above the knee," she explained. "He's gonna try and wriggle free so be ready."

       Harrison nodded his understanding of his role and placed both hands where Kaci had ordered, pushing his weight down as best he could given the tight quarters of the situation.

       Kaci took hold of Peter's ankle in one hand and carefully lifted the leg. Peter started screaming earlier than she had anticipated. Harrison felt Peter's hips bucking below him.

       Kaci glanced at Harrison, placing the palm of her free hand just below the wound. She mouthed a count down. "
One... Two... Three" a
nd then yanked backwards on Peter's ankle, pushing down on the bone as she did so. She flinched at the sensation of bone grinding against bone and the wet pop as it fell back to where it belonged.

       Peter's scream reached a peak that could shatter glass and then he fell silent, his mind taking him to the protection of unconsciousness.

       "Megan," Kaci yelled. "I need that first aid kit."

       "Right here," Megan appeared in the doorway, holding the canvas bag down to Kaci. "Is he going to be OK?"

       "Without proper attention, no."

       Father Jacob breathed heavily, inhaling through his nose and out through his mouth. His heart pounding like a drum in his chest, threatening to burst free from the prison of his rib cage. Despite this he kept control, travelling through the bombardment of visions thrown at him with vicious abandon by the Slavis.

       Jacob was no longer afraid, almost desensitised to what they had forced him to witness. Now he moved through each sickening prediction as a voyeur, learning what he could about his deadly foe.

       The Slavis surrounded him as he made his way through the world they offered him, clambering through the tree tops and running along at his side. They shouted obscenities and cursed the God he held such faith in. Some launched severed limbs towards him as others tossed handfuls of steaming faeces.

       Jacob knew what they were doing and he tried to ignore them, not let them discover that he was allowing them to lead him towards whatever destination they had in mind. If they wanted to guide him onwards then let them... he was no longer scared.

Up ahead the trees grew sparse and the sky could be seen through the brown, withered leaves hanging dead from the scorched branches. Black thunder heads rolled overhead like the incoming tide, a perpetual motion that attempted to induce unease. Lightning flashed, green forks of otherworldly power that lanced the sky and ignited the ground.

       If this was another prediction then the world was destined to become a living hell.

       'Y
ou wanted to see,'
hissed the Slavis. 'T
hen let us show you.'

       "This will never be," Jacob shouted back. "I will not... I can not allow it."

       'Y
our faith is amusing, old man,' la
ughed the Slavis. 'B
ut there is more to
this story than you realise.'

       "Then show me the worst." Jacob increased his pace and stepped out of the trees and into the open...

       ...and entered a living hell.

       The Slavis were everywhere, moving around the barren ground in their stolen bodies, parodies of the once human form. They cavorted around naked, carrying out acts of depravity upon each other. It was an orgy painted in blood.

       The living, what remained, were held in large holding pens, ten foot high fences topped with razor wire keeping them prisoner. Their cries filled the unnatural night time world of the Slavis. They were forced to watch as their loved ones were taken from them and debased in every form before being given a painful death, only to return moments later, twisted and deformed by its new host.

The Slavis grew in number as the human race screamed out in agony.

       Jacob walked through the animated nightmare, purposeful strides that belied the fear coiling in his stomach. He took it all in yet showed no sign of his disgust at their actions.

       'Kee
p going, Priest,'
the Slavis goaded. 'Y
ou are almost there.'

       Jacob kept to his path, not deviating from the destination he was fixed upon. He knew the place well despite the changes made by its new occupants.

       The cathedral had been rebuilt, once again a towering monolith that stood proud above the countryside. But it was no longer a place of hallowed worship. The stone walls were gone, only to be replaced with the rotting carcasses of the dead. Rib cages and skulls had been cemented together with decayed intestinal content and excrement to create a spire that reached for the blackened sky.

       The windows were made from stretched skin, the dried hide tattooed with images of murder, rape and sodomy. Flickering light from within brought each one to life, giving the effect of movement to the bastardised stained glass.

       'E
nter if you dare,'
the Slavis pushed. '
Stare into the eyes of the man who
shall be our God.'

       Jacob reached out and pushed open the huge double doors, ancient oak replaced with femurs and ulna. The hinges screamed, an echo of the human suffering that had created them and Jacob had to fight the urge to turn and run.

       'We c
an smell your fear, old man.'

"Fear and faith are two different things," Jacob replied. "You may be able to eat away at one, but you will never shake my faith." Jacob pulled his shoulders back and stepped inside.

       'F
aith can only protect you for so long,' tease
d the Slavis. 'L
ike everything
else it is eroded by time and disappointment.'

       "Your games will not bring me down," whispered Jacob.

       'M
aybe not,' s
ighed the Slavis in return. 'B
ut seeing the truth shall bring
you to your knees.'

       Jacob looked around the courtyard and its fornicating occupants. The smell of sweat and foetid flesh assailed his nostrils and brought hot vomit into his throat. The sounds of pleasure and pain mixed into a cacophony of sickness, the beat set by the slapping of naked flesh against naked flesh.