Anthony DeCosmo - Empire

Brewer raised his binoculars.

The whirlwind slowed…slower; and became less a cyclone and more a cloud.

Jon doubted his eyes as he watched what happened next. The cloud sort of pulled back-collapsing in-as if it were a fog machine set to reverse.

As the mist receded, the particles of the cloud meld together and forms took shape, not exactly walking through its vapors, but being born from them.

A line of figures…an army…materialized.

Humanoid and wearing hooded gray cloaks they marched forward across the glacier slowly but deliberately as the cloud continued to evaporate.

Jon watched through his field glasses. Most of their bodies were covered by those heavy cloaks but he could see their faces, or what passed for faces: skeletal with black eye sockets and elongated jaws.

“Wow,” he mumbled but even that word did not fit what happened next.

The cloud sucked rearward and evaporated, revealing one more monstrosity.

A giant. An eight-story tall giant with a skinny body, a slack jawed humanoid face, and eyes devoid of both sanity and intelligence. It dragged two dangling, extremely long arms the knuckles of which scraped the snow as the thing lumbered forward behind the mass of robed foot soldiers.

“Lord have mercy on our souls,” Johnny prayed.

But mercy was in short supply on the frozen flats of the Arctic Circle.

“I need guns over here!”

Fink did not respond; the approaching line of horrific creatures mesmerized the man. They looked more like demons than aliens.

Jon grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Get me four squads over here, now! Double time, Captain!”

Fink blinked and stammered, “What about…what about the Vikings?”

“Keep firing on them, too!”

Fink raced off.

Reverend Johnny gasped, “What are these creatures? Some kind of wraiths from the depths of the underworld, I fear.”

“Whatever they are,” Brewer answered, “they’re coming for us.”

“Dear heavens, yes, I see we are now fighting a two-front war!”

Screams of shock, barked orders, and scattered exchanges of fire with the Vikings reverberated through the human side of the rock island, reaffirming Johnny’s fear.

The army of Hell spawn split into three groups. One body remained out of range. One phalanx each headed toward both groups on the rock formation. The giant sort of stood between the two, looking dumb.

“They’re going after the Vikings, too,” Brewer said loud enough for Johnny to hear. “I guess they’re not part of the happy family.”

“I take some solace in that, General. I also am comforted in that unless my eyes are failing, these wraiths do not bear any weapons.”

Through his binoculars, Brewer confirmed the Reverend’s observation but noted, “That only makes me more nervous. What exactly are they bringing to the party?”

Fink returned with the extra squads. They assembled on the western flank. Most of the men did not fire; they stood or knelt and watched the approaching horde with gaping jaws.

“God damn it! Fire!” Brewer shouted.

The first round of shots missed wide. However, the pop and bang of gunfire attracted the attention of the giant.

Enemy troops parted to make way for the tall beast. At first, Jon thought it might march right over to his men and step on them. But no, it stayed a good three hundred yards away.

A bullet from a Viking sharpshooter whizzed by Jon’s head. He dove to the ground, crawled to cover, then shouted for Fink’s attention.

“Get over to the northern perimeter. Do not forget about the Vikings. Hold that line.”

Fink nodded absently.

Jon repeated with more emphasis, “Captain. hold the line.”

“Yes…Yes Sir!”

Fink scrambled off.

Someone on the western wall yelled, “What the Hell?”

The giant raised its long arms over its head with clenched fists where they hovered for a moment. Without a roar. Without a scream. Without any emotion, the giant swung its long arms down and pounded its fists onto the snow

An earthquake poured forth. A focused channel of underground energy rumbled and rolled across the glacier like a subterranean cruise missile pushing a comet’s trail of snow above and behind.

“ Mother fucker…incoming!!”

The seismic ordnance slammed into and through the rock formation. The ground there shook like San Francisco in ’89. The earth ripped open in a crevice cutting into the plateau.

Three men toppled into the newly formed hole as did a dog sled, pulling six yapping K9s with it. Jon himself tottered on the brink only to be steadied by Reverend Johnny’s firm grip.

The line of hooded demonic attackers continued to approach.

The human soldiers regrouped along the defensive wall and fired with renewed enthusiasm.

Bullets slammed into Wraiths one after another. Instead of falling, their bodies evaporated into dust that blew off in the wind leaving behind empty cloaks fluttering to the ground.

“They are as fragile as fine china!” Reverend Johnny shouted. “Let us smash them!”

One of the fiends slightly tilted its head, opened its mouth unnaturally wide, and let out a sound to make Mephistopheles tremble.

‘wwwwwhhhHHAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

A shimmering, focused cone of scream traveled through the air and enveloped a soldier. He dropped his rifle and clutched the hood of his parka just before his head exploded, splashing red gore on the man’s white clothing. His lifeless body hovered for a moment then flopped to the ground.

“For this is what the LORD says: I will send terror upon you and all your friends, and you will watch as they are slaughtered by the swords of the enemy!”

Reverend Johnny stood on the defensive ledge and let loose a lethal wave of machine gun rounds, evaporating two then three of the skeletal beings.

Yet they moved forward.

‘wwwwhhhhhhahhHHHHAAAAA”

Another…then a second Imperial soldier suffered Wraith screams. Two more heads exploded.

The Vikings, meanwhile, continued to fire at the humans but also faced the new threat. They turned their catapult-like artillery on the Wraiths. The first shot smashed into a wave of enemies crossing the glacier toward the Vikings’ position.

Three Wraiths flew through the air into the center of the blast zone where their bodies and cloaks disintegrated.

Then the creatures unleashed their song of death on the Vikings. The tops of two ponchos popped like sick balloons; bloody goggles went flying.

Another Viking artillery round hit the Wraith formation.

The giant took aim at a new target. Its massive arms swung toward the sky, hovered for a moment, then crashed to the surface once again. The earth moved as if the monster had flicked one end of a jump rope.

The Vikings scattered as the earthquake hit amidst the artillery battery. The crew and the machine wobbled then fell into a new fissure in the ground. Artillery shells burst on their way down causing an explosion to roar from the crevice.

While both sides battled the Wraiths, Captain Fink and his counterpart on the Viking side continued to exchange fire. Sharpshooters plugged enemies, machine and rail gun rounds raced back and forth between the two camps. Smoke from expended cartridges joined frosty exhales to create a fine white frost hovering over the pandemonium.

Military tactics deteriorated into mayhem in this three-way battle.

Explosions. Screams. Dirt and snow, rock and bloody body parts flying through the air; soldiers running to and from cover, firing and hiding, reloading and gasping for breath.

On the western wall of the human camp, Reverend Johnny stood tall in defiance of the demons, wielded his machine gun and cursed, “You crushed the heads of the wicked and laid bare their bones from head to toe!”