Gregory Norris - Down with the Fallen - A Post-Apocalyptic Horror Anthology

The city was a desolate place populated by ruins from a time long past; all of it caked in ash and dust from—what was called by the holy men—the Great Rapture; a time when the Lord himself reclaimed His world through holy flames that took both the people who once lived on the Earth, and nearly all that they had built, with them. It was a place only visited by the inhabitants of the land if they were traveling from one settlement to the next, though sightings of the Others were scarce, and practically unheard of here.

This was thought to be due to the ever-watchful eyes of the Shades—shadows left behind by the Rapture; shadows of the ancient people who once had lived in the great cities of old. Doc Holland had once assured Marcus that they were not to be feared, that they were simply the remnants of a time long past; nothing more than scorch marks amidst the ash, burned forever into the ground by the holy flames. Nevertheless, Marcus always felt an eerie, creeping fear every time they passed through the Broken City.

Thankfully, the Others were thought to fear the Shades as well, if not for their constant, ever watchful presence, then for some holy—or unholy—reason that was unknown to the people of the land. Either way, questions were scarcely raised on the matter. The Others were dangerous, so any place free of the inhuman things was considered safe passage.

Though the hunter and his apprentice were now wondering just how safe this place truly was.

The silence persisted on as the two of them waited for signs of movement. Two minutes passed, perhaps three.

Not a sound.

Marcus could feel an almost involuntary sigh of relief building within him, pushing its way out. He thought of how they would chuckle about this later; they would laugh at how easily they had both been spooked by the wind, as if it were some ghostly apparition. Doc would say, “Next, we’ll be jumping at our own shadows,” with his warm smile showing beneath his black, bushy beard, before releasing a long and hearty laugh.

But Marcus forced the sigh back to wherever it had manifested from, because Doc remained unmoving before him, and Marcus knew just by looking at his frozen mentor that there would be no celebratory laughter. They’d both heard the sound, and if anyone knew the difference between the wind and an Other’s growl, it was undoubtedly Doc Holland, who had many stories to tell about his previous encounters with the Others.

Marcus suddenly found himself wishing that he had some sort of weapon besides his bowie knife, though he’d lost his pistol in a fierce dust storm two days prior. He’d missed the weapon dearly, but he longed for it now more than ever.

More time passed, and the two remained unmoving.

Silence.

Doc Holland was sure now that the creature had heard their approach. Between his humming, and Marcus’s water sloshing in the canteen, there was no doubt that the Other had taken notice of them. In fact, it was just as likely that it’s growl was released on some pure, animalistic instinct upon hearing its prey advance toward it. Perhaps it had been hiding in the shadows of the Broken City for some time, waiting for an unsuspecting traveler to pass so it could feast. Whatever the case, it mattered little now.

The silence persisted, until finally a ghostly, whistling wind washed over them. The current kicked up ash and dust as it went, and Doc Holland’s leather coat began to flap audibly in the wind when it reached them. The sound of leather being manipulated by the wind was their only warning before the thing revealed itself.

The Other lumbered out from under one of the larger concrete edifices with a roar that could have just as easily been the thunder of a great storm. The beast was a mountain of crimson flesh and muscle, and while Marcus was only able to get brief glimpses of the monstrosity, it was no doubt one of the largest Others he’d ever seen. It walked—if you could call it walking —primarily on its massive arms, with fists that were nearly three times as large as Marcus’s head. Its chest was a crooked mess of an exposed ribcage, which opened and closed with each heavy breath the thing took, like some gaping maw of meat. There was something else, too, protruding from the sides of its shoulders, though Marcus couldn’t quite make out what that was.

Doc Holland’s rifle responded to the roaring leviathan with a loud report of its own, as if to rival the behemoth in strength. Marcus and Doc both watched as, for just the slightest moment, the Other paused to look where the rifle’s bullet had impacted with its immense bicep. Something cried out then, like a high-pitched shrieking that could only be in response to a great deal of pain, though there was no way the Other’s low voice could have made a sound quite like that. However, their time to take this into consideration was short. The Other looked back to them as the shrieking sound rang out, and its face—though inhumanly warped with muscular growths and twisted flesh—showed a deep, irritated scowl.

The Other stood on its considerably short legs for a moment, and hammered its bony chest with heavy, tumor-ridden fists. It was at this point that both Marcus and Doc began to run.

“What do we do now?” Marcus asked as the loud, meaty thuds of the Other’s fists hitting pavement sounded off behind them. Bullets seemed to cause some form of damage to the Other, but they were low on ammunition from the previous stretch of their journey.

“Our best bet is looping around, and running to the nearest way station,” Doc Holland said. “With luck, we can lose the bastard in the thick of the ruins. It’s too large to fit through many of the smaller crevices.” He turned then, and paused for a brief moment, allowing Marcus to run a few paces ahead as he fired off another shot. That same horrible sound rang out behind them like a banshee out for their blood. Doc Holland turned back, and once more broke into a complete sprint, proving to be rather agile for his age. “Until then, I’ll slow it down.”

Marcus supposed the plan was as good as any at this point, though he was worried about the structural integrity of the ruins if the Other tried to follow after them. The beast was likely strong enough to smash through ancient concrete, but hopefully it was smart enough to know that doing so had a high risk of burying the three of them alive. However, Marcus didn’t voice his opinions on the matter, because anything was better than simply trying to outrun the beast.

They ran without speaking for the next five minutes, the only sounds being the continuous, low thump, thump, thump -ing of the Other’s fists propelling the monster after them. Each time the sounds came dangerously close, Doc Holland would make an abrupt turn to fire a round or two into the Other, slowing it just enough to keep them safely ahead. Marcus’s fear was growing ever stronger as they went, and his reasons for being afraid were now twofold. As if the Other wasn’t terrifying enough, the hundreds of silent Shades that they passed by almost seemed to be watching with anticipation. While the Shades kept true to their silent, immobile ways, Marcus swore he could feel their scorched eyes on the two of them as they ran, and in his mind he could practically hear them calling, “Don’t fret, you’ll be one of us soon,” in a hundred ghostly voices that were filled with a cold, lustful avidity.

Marcus did his best to push these thoughts aside, knowing that they were simply a part of his childhood paranoia coming back to haunt him. Still, the thought of ending up like one of the Shades frightened him beyond measure. Being a dark, motionless shadow with nothing to do but watch as the wasted lands further tore themselves apart year after year wasn’t how Marcus wished to spend his afterlife, yet he could imagine the Shades coming for him when he died; his spirit lifting up toward the heavens, when suddenly he would find himself being pulled back toward the ash by icy, black hands. “Join us, Marcus,” the entirety of the Broken City would seem to be whispering at once, ghoulish voices echoing around him in every direction. “Don’t leave in such a hurry, come stay with us. The dust is particularly nice this time of year.”