Tim Marquitz - Armageddon Bound

A screech like a million banshees filled the air, shattering nearby windows. Much to my surprise, it had come from me. The fiends paused, hovering above me, staring down in uncertainty as shards of glass tinkled down around them. I felt the pain of my wounds wash over me, but there was something else buried within it, something dark and ominous.

Something majestic.

As soon as the agony reared its head, it vanished, replaced by a soothing coldness that chilled me to the marrow. My mind and vision cleared a heartbeat later, my weakness vanished right after. Even more abruptly, I felt a power in me like I’d never felt before. It roared inside, straining against my rippling flesh to be free. I decided to oblige it.

I rolled away from the fiends, taking advantage of their confusion, and hopped to my feet. I laughed maniacally as I realized my wounds were healed. The missing chunks of flesh were regenerated in their entirety, leaving behind no trace save for the blood that still stained everything in dark shades of red and black. I clenched my fists, the cracking of my knuckles echoing loudly as I stared at the fiends. They simply stood there, uncertainty etched across their slack faces. I didn’t wait for them to pull it together, I went on the attack.

I leaped forward and drove my foot into the ribs of the fiend on the left. I heard a muffled snap as the Page 184 beast clutched its midsection and stumbled backward, bellowing a baleful howl. I didn’t wait to see where it ended up. I threw a right cross that caught the other fiend in the temple, before it could react. The blow knocked it sideways ten feet, where it crashed into the wall. It crumpled, eyes wide and unseeing. I glanced over at the one that held Veronica and it stared back with wide eyes. It stood there motionless, doing nothing to threaten me or Veronica. The fiend with the wounded rib didn’t have any such compunction. It launched itself at me, its claws extended forward. As surreal as it was, and as cliched, it seemed as though it was moving in slow motion. I grinned as I took my time to set my footing, preparing for its arrival. Once it closed, I stepped out of its path and cinched my hands onto its wrists, redirecting its momentum into the ground. The fiend smashed into the asphalt, its face leading the way. Shards of teeth and bone spikes sprayed in all directions at the impact, blood and bittersmelling pus flowed right after. I heard a moist gurgle rumble from its throat as it thrashed about in agony. Feeling less than merciful, I stomped down between its shoulder blades, my hands still wrapped around its wrist. I leaned my weight into it and rent its arm toward his back. I heard a pop and something that sounded like tearing paper as its shoulder came out of its socket, the tendons ripping free. It screamed and I shouted back, pulling even harder. I leaned further to the side, twisting its wrist again and its pained scream turned into an eardrum-shattering screech. I didn’t let up as I felt the resistance grow tighter, then give way with a sudden snap. I stumbled off the fiend, regaining my balance a second later. I held a grisly trophy in my hands; the fiend’s arm.

In shock from the grievous wound, the creature shook violently, but stayed where it lay. Thick black blood spewed from its ravaged shoulder and ran down the street like a gory river. Satisfied it was out of the fight, I turned my attention to the fiend I’d stunned earlier. It had just begun to gather it senses and pull itself to its feet. That was unacceptable. I ran over to it, swinging the severed arm over my head. The fiend looked up just in time to see my weapon of choice. It cringed as the arm crashed into its skull. With a meaty thud, they collided, driving the fiend back to the ground. I discarded the arm, a surprisingly less effective weapon than one would think, and decided to go about this the old-fashioned way; pure and brutal ground and pound. Not giving the fiend the chance to defend itself, I pressed down on the back of its head and drove my knee into its face. The impact smashed its jaw, teeth exploding from its mouth. I felt it go limp, but I didn’t stop. Over and over again, I rammed my knee upward until the fiend’s face was nothing more than a seeping puddle that dribbled down its chest in shades of reeking red and black.

Splattered in blood, my own and my enemies’, I spun about to face the last of the attacking fiends. I was surprised to find only Veronica there, staring at me through a mask of cuts and bruises. She wobbled on her feet.

“Where is it?” I shouted, spinning around in a circle to find the missing creature. Veronica said nothing. She looked ready to pass out. Unable to find it, I turned back to her, my rage subsiding. Fueled by the blood of Lucifer, my senses heightened, I saw her shiver despite my being thirty feet away. She didn’t look too good. Her stomach and thighs had been raked apart, leaving behind bubbling wounds from which flaps of flesh and clothing hung in strands. One of her arms lay limp at her side, trails of crimson running down its length, dripping from her fingers. Her face had been brutalized, even beyond what I’d done to her earlier, making it almost unrecognizable. My heart sank as she limped forward. I knew she didn’t have much time, her breath heavy in her lungs. I snatched up my gun and raced to her side, scooping her up into my arms as gently as I could. I whispered sugared apologies to her as I took off full out down the street, trying my hardest not to jounce her about too much. After only a few blocks, her whimpered cries piercing my heart at every painful jolt, I came across what I needed.

At a stop light sat a beat up Chevy Impala, its muffler spewing black smoke, its sub-woofers rattling the trunk. I saw the driver slouched in his seat, bouncing his head in rhythm to the music, his arm hanging out the open window, oblivious to the world around him. I ran up alongside the Chevy, shifted Veronica so I had a free arm, and reached into it, putting the car into park. The banger inside stared at me with wide eyes, at least as wide as the bandanna on his forehead allowed, while I yanked the door open.

“This is what you get for not locking your door,”

I told him as I snatched him out and shoved him down onto the street, away from the car. He tumbled back, uncertain of how to react. I’d caught him off guard.

“And wear your seat belt next time.” I wasn’t in the mood to be witty.

I eased Veronica inside, from the driver’s side, and slid in after her. I slammed the door shut just as the owner found his courage. He stepped up to the window shouting obscenities in Spanish, calling me out as he reached for the handle. Not interested in playing, I pointed my. 45 at him. He took a quick step back, his arms raised in surrender. Like most wannabes, his courage fled once faced with the barrel of a gun. With no time to waste, I gunned the Impala and shot off down the road, leaving the vato in the dust. I saw him in the rearview mirror, jumping up and down, shouting. He’d found his eggs again.

Unconcerned with his antics, I was in a race for Veronica’s life. I had to save her, especially if there was to be any chance of my having sex before Asmoday brought about the end of the world.

I didn’t want to die horny.

Back at my house, I screeched to a stop in the driveway. I hopped out of the appropriated Impala and raced to the passenger side to collect Veronica. Even in the short drive, she had paled a good deal. She was slumped down in the seat, lethargic. The blood loss had taken its toll, the seat beneath soaked in dark fluid. I pulled her out of the car and rushed to the front door. I fumbled in my pocket for my keys and after a heart-pounding moment where I’d believed them lost, I fished them out. I got the door open, calling out the password that would shut down the defensive wards in an emergency, and ran inside toward the bedroom. Unceremoniously, I dropped her on the bed and tore into the hidden stash of Lucifer’s blood. I yanked a vial free of the pack, and popped it open, leaving the rest on the floor. I knelt beside Veronica and fed her a couple drops of the blood, urging her to swallow. When she did, albeit weekly, I leaned back against the headboard loosing a sigh, having done all I could. From then on, it was all in the hands of my uncle. Well, it was all up to his blood, at least.