Obsidian Series Day 3

By Grisly Silence

 

The sun burned down despite the trees. Sweat rolled down Mihail’s back in cool rivulets. He was wet everywhere, his clothes soaked through. His eyes hurt from squinting, and all he saw were waves of heat in the burned, dead trees. He could barely stand touching his AK. Through it all, the trail continued through the deadwood, disappearing over hill a few hundred meters off. It was bad weather for anything, let alone following something potentially dangerous. Next to him, Svyatoslav stumbled on a hidden branch, struggling to his feet before again trudging forward. He looked as uncomfortable as Mihail. They would have to stop soon, find some shade to protect themselves from the heat. If they fell to heat exhaustion they would be easy prey. His muscles burned from walking and his stomach twisted with nausea from the heat. They were in no condition to take the artifact from whatever had it.

He spotted something white in the trees several meters ahead and to the left. He slowed, drifting off the trail. Svyatoslav continued walking, then stopped when he noticed Mihail wasn’t following. He looked over at Mihail, who continued to approach the object, with his gun warily in hand, eyes roaming for signs of a trap. Mihail vaguely heard Svyatoslav moving through the brush behind him, following. There was an unpleasant odor in the air, filling his nose with its noxious stench. Svyatoslav coughed and choked, and Mihail switched to breathing through his mouth, though that did little to ease the smell.

He pushed through the last thicket of brush before the white object. The smell was concentrated there. He gagged. Tears came to his eyes as he tried to suppress his nausea. Laying there, glistening brightly in the sun, spread-eagled and naked before them, was a body. Only nearly human. Mihail coughed against his arm, keeping it pressed against his mouth to ward off the smell. He opened his eyes to look at the body. Pale flesh hung on the corpse like drapery, spreading out, almost pooling off the body in the sun. All of it was burned and bubbled, like it had been dipped in a vat of boiling oil. Its pseudo-human face was twisted in a grimace, fat lips pulled over protruding crooked teeth. Its eyes were pure white and almost bursting from their sockets, swelling disproportionately large. Its hands clenched against its belly, in such torment when it had died that its fingers had gouged deep holes into its stomach. Thick red blood streamed from the finger holes like honey. It had died recently.

Mihail quickly dropped back, retreating to the trail. He spit the bitter taste from his mouth and wiped his lips against his sleeve. Svyatoslav hacked. The main group couldn’t be too far ahead. Spitting distastefully again, he left the site, following the trail once more. He wondered if Svyatoslav had understood what the burns meant. He certainly did. But it wasn’t wise to divulge all of the knowledge he possessed. He wouldn’t want Svyatoslav to get the idea that he didn’t need him anymore. He looked back at the body, retreating steadily into the forest behind him. They would have to stop somewhere else.

After they had made a good distance down the trail and away from the body, they stopped in the shade of a tree stubbornly holding onto the last of its burned leaves. The MREs were quickly downed for need of food if not want of it. They sipped their water to keep it from running out. They said nothing, whether to conserve energy or for lack of anything to say, neither knew. When Mihail stood, Svyatoslav knew it was time to go. They started back on the trail of their quarry.

Thick brush began to creep in on the trail as they climbed the slope of a thickly forested hill. The trail was clearly evident now; broken twigs, footprints and fresh scrapes on tree bark all pointing to the presence of something having passed that way. The trees grew closer together and the light was screened away by branches reaching overhead, creating a tunnel around them that held the heat in, threatening to suffocate them. Eventually the undergrowth became so bad that both he and Svyatoslav had to hack away at it with machetes to make any sort of time. The bushes would have significantly slowed their prey.

They came upon a tree that had fallen across a cluster of rocks that went back several hundred meters. The rocks were close together and formed a sort of tunnel through the forest. It was very dark inside. The trail led directly into it.

“It would not be wise to go in there.” Mihail said immediately. It would be too easy to be trapped or ambushed once inside.

“We have lanterns and flashlights.” Svyatoslav responded.

Mihail gave him an unreadable look. “Then you can go in first.”

Svyatoslav didn’t say anything. Mihail nodded. “Then we go around.”

It was slow going. The trees grew close together so when the path was blocked they had to go around, for they were too thick to be chopped apart with their machetes. But Mihail was able to guide by sighting down three trees in a row to act as a straight line, and using the position of the sun as backup. He had once owned a compass, but it had been smashed into uselessness in a gravity anomaly. He mourned its loss, but was grateful he had survived.

They finally came out near the trail and forged through the brush and trees until they reached it. The tracks continued on ahead of them as if nothing had happened. It was irritating after all that effort to find that their quarry had gone the easy route without problems. But there was no helping it, so they continued on.

The light began to fade and the heat to dissipate. The sun passed overhead and settled comfortably behind them, streaking the sky with red and casting their shadows out before them. Mihail began to wonder where they were heading. They had started going due north, but now had switched almost without him noticing it, and were heading east and slightly south. He shook his head. He’d follow the artifact to the edge of the Zone if necessary. Clouds rolled in and the temperature dropped even more. Still they forged through the forest, and still their prey eluded them. Mihail didn’t understand. They should have caught up with them before now. It was like they were…driven by something, running away perhaps. But from what? They surely didn’t know they were being followed. Or did they? It was a disturbing prospect. One that gnawed constantly at him and refused to let go.

Finally, Mihail stopped. The sun hovered just above the horizon behind them, oddly flattened and colored orange rather than white hot yellow. He could see his breath fogging in the stiff chill. Svyatoslav looked at him questioningly, as if asking why they had stopped.

“We’re not going to catch them tonight. I don't know how they’re keeping ahead of us, but whatever they are, we won’t catch them before dark, or likely even by tomorrow. I don't much like walking blind in this place in the dark. Even with lanterns and flashlights. Besides, even if they don't have to sleep, I’d rather not catch up to them while we’re this tired.”

Svyatoslav nodded. “I think if we follow that ridge up there,” he pointed to the right, “We should come to a more protected spot.”

It was a logical assumption, so Mihail didn’t challenge it. He merely nodded and indicated that Svyatoslav lead. He liked watching his own back. He didn’t trust anyone else enough to let them watch his.

Rocks quickly began to form. Large boulders jumbled together, fallen from the edge of the ridge above them. They had to carefully pick their way through the jagged stone, for fear of slipping and breaking a bone. Mihail spotted an overhang of the ridge ahead, a well-protected spot. He started for it, drawing abreast to Svyatoslav and pointing to it. It was growing darker and more difficult to see, so Svyatoslav had missed it. The sun was now no more than a glow on the horizon behind them. Stars began to pierce through the black sky before them.

Svyatoslav suddenly swore. Mihail froze, twisting his head to see. Svyatoslav was holding his pocket watch and staring around with a wild look in his eyes. Mihail felt a tingle of apprehension shoot through him. He whispered a curse under his breath, the fine hairs on the back of his neck rising. Something was in the rocks. He looked around very carefully, searching for an indication of what sort of trouble they were in. A droplet of sweat fell into his eye. He blinked it away. He couldn’t see any telltale depressions in the ground, for the rocks distorted the look of the land. He couldn’t tell what sort of anomaly it was, but he knew they were very close to something very dangerous. If he moved forward an inch it could be too far. He strained his eyes but didn’t see anything out of place. Night was descending rapidly on them, and they were stuck in a field of rock. And something was with them.

A terrible headache emerged from deep within his skull, pounding in sympathy with the uncontrolled beating of his heart. He gritted his teeth against it, trying to concentrate. He sidled backward. His fingertips and toes tingled. There was a bitter metallic taste in the back of his throat and under his tongue. Trying to move backward as slowly as possible, he saw something move. It darted through the rocks in front of him. He caught a glimpse of a brown, humped form, and then it was gone. Svyatoslav swore the curse that was lurking on Mihail’s tongue. But Mihail was closer to the thing than he, and in substantially more danger. He craned his neck back, stepping back through the rocks. The muscles in his neck strained and cramped, but there was nothing he could do about it. He risked a glance forward again. Movement. Frantic skittering all around. Fear came down on him, wrapping him in its paralyzing embrace. He blinked away more sweat. His muscles shook. He could not see what Svyatoslav was doing. Nor did he care. He kept his eyes riveted forward. Shapes rushed through the rocks and then hid. A lantern lit beside him, shining on the rocks. Nothing moved. Something glittered in the dark. He turned, and it was gone.

Then something tore from the rocks with such speed and ferocity that he didn’t have time to react. It slammed into him from the side and threw him into Svyatoslav. He fell heavily into the rocks. The sharp points dug into his flesh. There was a crash, and the sound of broken glass. The light disappeared.

He leapt to his feet, heedless of the danger, giving no heed to his cautions and simply ran as fast as he could. He heard things moving in the dark behind him. Many things. Rock scraped all over. He tripped and went down, slamming his knee painfully against the rocks. But he was up again in an instant, pangs of fear shuddering through his body. Something black darted straight for his face. Pure twitch reaction saved him. His finger convulsed on the trigger of his AK-74. The shadow spun away with a shriek as bullets buried themselves in its flesh. The sharp report shattered the night silence. Shells clanged as they fell to the rocks below.

Then Svyatoslav was firing as well, and the harsh flashes of light revealed more black shapes. Many more.

His blood thundered in his veins. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. He twisted about, seeing Svyatoslav firing madly into a mass of the shadows. Bullets exploded into the shapes and they fell to the rocks in broken heaps. Screams pierced his ears as they died. Shells ejected from the chamber shot out in an endless stream, gleaming with the flash of gunfire. He turned back around. Something slammed into him from the side. Pain flared in his abdomen as it thrashed at him with hooked claws. He rammed the butt of his AK into its dark head. It tore from his side with a shocking spray of blood. Ignoring the pain, he hammered it again and again until he felt the bone crack under the heavy metal of his gun.

Another one came at him and he gave it nine grams of death. Sweat and blood mixed and coated his body as he fired again and again into the shapes. He held the trigger down, his body recoiling with each burst. They were everywhere. Running had just put him in the thick of them.

He charged ahead anyway, firing left and right at anything that moved. The staccato bursts ripped through the strange shadows as if they were paper. He stumbled, weak from his injury. Blood ran freely from his torn flesh. Forcing himself to his feet, he fired the last rounds in his clip at the dark shapes. He beat back a rush of them, using the weapon as a club. Pain cut through him as they opened new wounds. He couldn’t defend himself well when he was unable to see clearly.

He ejected the clip and reached for another in his mag pouch. He quickly rammed it home. Svyatoslav drew next to him as he began firing again into the black creatures. The sound was deafening as each man emptied round after round into the mass. Each died with a single, painful screech. It was as if the god of thunder had descended onto the rock field and was proceeding to annihilate everything in sight.

Svyatoslav stopped to reload, yelling for Mihail to cover him. He whirled and fired at the rapidly advancing line of creatures. The front rank fell apart as he blasted them apart. But there were more behind them. Every flash from the heated muzzles of their machine guns revealed the extent of them. He couldn’t see the end of them. There were too many. Fear threatened to rise up and choke him, but he forced it back down. He would not die in this place.

Screaming in fury, he resolved to go down only after slaughtering every last one of the things. The sharp crack of Svyatoslav’s AK joined the piercing cry of his. Fire erupted from the machine guns, tearing into the creatures and ripping them apart. Blood pooled in the rocks and slickened the ground. Mihail fired his last round and a creature flew back into its comrades. He reloaded, letting the empty clip fall to the rocks. Something cold hit his face. He looked up. The clouds roiled ominously above them. Lightning lit the land and peals of true thunder rolled forth. Rain fell in increasing amounts. It soaked the ground and turned it into mud. Slogging through the morass with a grim look on his face, Mihail advanced on the creatures. He gritted his teeth, pouring his heart and soul into killing. Every bullet found its target. Every bullet dealt a killing blow. He was slogging through bodies as well as mud, adding more and more of the former while the rain added more of the latter.

The creatures began to fall back. He charged into them, emptying his weapon and then slamming his way through them with it as a club. He rammed the gun into them left and right, feeling it crush bone and rip open flesh. Blood splashed onto him as he advanced through them, but was quickly washed off by the rain. The creatures bit and clawed, but he ignored the pain and took down every one near him with lethal blows. Cold and wet settled in as well, and while he could do nothing to fend them off, he ignored them by killing more of the little monsters.

Slinging the gun around his shoulders, he drew his machete and bayonet and roared at the creatures. Fire burning in his eyes, he charged through them, screaming. They flew at him from all sides, but he ripped them open with cold steel. Then Svyatoslav joined him, killing more of them. The things had to scramble over the bodies of their fallen kin to get to the two men. Claws glittered and gleamed in the white flashes of lightning. Eyes narrowed and teeth bared.

Then suddenly the things broke and ran, flitting back through the rocks that were their home. Mihail and Svyatoslav were left standing in the rain, clothes soaked through and tattered, wounds bleeding, breathing heavily. Lightning cracked and thundered and the rain drummed steadily against the rocks. Mihail stiffly sheathed his bayonet and machete, exhaustion flooding his body like concrete in his veins. He blinked the rain from his eyes and wiped his face of blood and sweat and water. He turned back around to retrieve the empty clips. They could be refilled. He realized his headache was gone.

“Let’s get out of here.”