Lycan Fallout 5 Page 16

  “He came down here willingly? Is he still here?”

  “Doubtful. I’d no sooner picked up crispy critter here when we got a message from one of the head honchos.”

  “May I talk to Ganlin? You make me itch,” Gabriel said.

  Tim laughed. “You have no idea how much I want to smash in that pretty little face of yours. Fuck up that perfect nose. Must look like a ski slope when you tilt your head back as you look upon the little people. I could bring you down a notch, you know, into the folds, the dirt, the mud–definitely the blood.” Tim was advancing, fists clenched tight.

  Gabriel raised a hand.

  “Careful, your highness. Remember, this is my realm and once I get started kicking your ass, I’m not going to be able to stop. But…I think, for some reason, I’m going to need your haughty little self.”

  “And I should fear you, why? A mere mortal was apparently enough to do you in.”

  “He was far from ‘mere’. Sootie wants me to tell you he has the blood of the ancients running through him. Whatever that means. All I know is the little fucker was faster and stronger than he should have been. Caught me off-guard, is all. Next time I’ll be ready. Shut up, Sootie. If you remember correctly I found your ass all smoldering, crying like a little bitch: ‘Help me! Help me!’ sounded like a little fucking girl. Who would have thought you could be so pathetic. Bullshit.” Tim was engaged in an inner dialog Gabriel was not privy to. “The Burning Man…again, nothing? I’ve seen eels smile more. Whatever. The burning man inside says that Talbot has luvier in him.”

  Gabriel looked concerned.

  “Well…that would explain a lot,” Tim replied, bringing his hand to his chin. “I wonder how that would taste, all golden and shit. Might be like some french fries. Chewy, stringy, french fries. Fuck yeah–I’m in.”

  “Luvier and the ancients? What have you been up to, Maker?” Gabriel asked the air around him.

  “So, you gonna get us out of here or what?” Tim asked. “Lamashtu is pretty hot and heavy about having us kill him.”

  “She’s involved?”

  “You really are stupid for an archangel. You might want to think about getting a subscription to News Weekly or some shit. Maybe hop on the internet every once in a while; you could learn something useful, or not, most of it was bullshit or cats–well–I guess all bullshit, then. Ever eaten a cat? No? Not much substance, once you get past the claws and fur.”

  “This could get me killed, but since I’m attempting to rewrite the rules anyway, I guess it won’t matter. Either I’m successful and Eden is ours for my brothers and I to do with as we please or…” He trailed off, not wanting to consider the consequences, should they fail. “Do you know how to kill Talbot?” Gabriel asked.

  Tim looked at the angel warily. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. What exactly do you plan on doing with the world, should your little plan work?”

  “Ridding it of the scourge of humanity. The job is nearly done; we just have to make sure the virulent pests do not once again make a comeback. Maker is always rooting for them, ushering them along; he continually talks about natural selection, yet he secrets them help as if we wouldn’t notice.”

  “So you want to get rid of all the people?” Tim asked.

  “Does that present a problem for you?”

  “Well, seeing as I am, or at least I was a person, yeah, it does. If we should succeed in taking care of Talbot, where does that leave me? Do I get a spot in this paradise?”

  Gabriel looked at him long and hard. “For a while, perhaps, I will permit your presence upon the plane. Once your natural life is over, you will return here.”

  “That’s acceptable. I’ll kill that runt for you, save his gallbladder for you…if you’re interested.”

  “This is going to hurt,” Gabriel said by way of warning.

  “Motherfucker!” Tim shouted as he stared up at the stars. He was flat on his back, felt as if he’d stuck his tongue in a two-hundred and forty-volt outlet. Pain shot through every part of him as his muscles contracted violently. “What the fuck did that little fruit fly do to us?” he said after another body shaking convulsion.

  “That is how angels travel through gates. I’m sure for him it was no more difficult than walking across a border,” Ganlin intoned.

  “I want to beat the fuck out of him just for this.” Tim was breathing through his nose, fighting through the pain. “Is the needle dick here?”

  “Not sure what you’d be able to do from down here, even if he was.”

  “Don’t make me roll you into the folds of my mind. I’ve got vast amounts of experience doing just that.”

  “I think you’re going to want to keep me around for a while,” Ganlin said. “Sit up and I’ll make you a present.”

  Tim grunted as he did so.

  “May I use your hands and voice?”

  “This a trick?”

  “It’s magic, but not a trick.”

  “Fine.”

  Ganlin said a few words and moved his arms and hands.

  “What the fuck is this?” Tim asked as something began to form in the grass next to his body. He reached out and picked it up. It was a bottle with a clear liquid inside. Tim pulled off the stopper and sniffed. “Tequila? Did you make us Tequila? Are you trying to get in my pants?” Tim took a long draft. “Shit, I’ll let you borrow one of my hands when I’m done with this.” Tim smiled and took another hit.

  “Certainly not my intention,” Ganlin said.

  “Bullshit. I’m no queer, but everyone wants this dick. You want to talk about magic! It’s like the fuck-stick of life.”

  “I thought Talbot was the most pathetic, reverse evolutionary cad I would ever come across. I do not like being proven wrong.”

  “Listen, twit. I know an insult when I hear one. If not for this tequila, I might give a shit.” Tim stood, wobbling at first. “Been a long time since I drank.” He took in his surroundings. “So, this is home? Where’d that fuckface Gabriel drop us, some cornfield in the middle of Kansas?” Tim was looking around.

  “This is Maryland…where Baltimore used to stand, specifically.”

  “Where is everything, everybody?”

  “There are not many more people left on the entire planet than used to live here at one time.”

  “Bull, what’s that, like, a couple million people then?”

  “Less than a million.”

  “Less than a million in the States?”

  “Yes, but there are no more states.”

  “Because of the zombies?”

  “They wiped out most of humanity. The Lycan were attempting to finish the process.”

  “What’s the ‘liking’? That like homo-love? Never get any babies that way.”

  “How many things can possibly be wrong with you? Lycan, as in huge werewolves.”

  “Those fuckers are still around?”

  “Some.”

  “You said second–what’s third?”

  “The third is the end game, angels and demons.”

  “So, Gabriel and his band of idiot brothers want the earth all to themselves. Their own little fruity frolicking playground, huh?”

  “It would appear that way.”

  “And what about Lamashtu? She want this dump for herself as well?”

  “I would think not–not her style. She’s not the rest and relaxation sort. More into the torture and dominion role.”

  “How did Talbot get himself onto everyone’s ‘must have dead’ list? I guess we should find him, then.”

  “When we do get close, you will need for me to take control. I’ll finish him off before he even has a chance to react.”

  “You just find him. We’ll revisit that stance when I see him.”

  “Lamashtu and Gabriel both want him dead; we don’t have a choice. We could curry great favor with them both, should we get this done.”

  “Do I look like I give two flat-fucks about Indian food-ing anything? I’m not some bottom feeder hoping for scrap
s to fall off the table. If I want something, I’m going to grab it my damn self. Those two assholes can go find a dark closet somewhere and go fondle whatever they have for tactical equipment.”

  “Those ‘assholes’ are two of the most powerful beings known to man you can’t…”

  “Don’t start, Sootie, if they’re so fucking powerful, answer me this: why aren’t they taking care of this little Talbot problem themselves? Want to know why? Because they fucking can’t. Want to know what makes sense? Being on the side that wins when all this shit shakes out. That’s what makes sense.”

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “I’m always serious about surviving.

  Chapter 19

  Mike Journal Entry 8

  Here is something truly terrifying. I was sleeping soundly; I think I was having a bad dream about cherry cola flavored Oreos…I know! Dreams are so friggin’ weird. Anyway, there I am, being utterly disgusted by the combining of those flavors, when I feel my side nudged. Last I remembered, Azile was beside me. I reach my hand over to caress her, and I feel not the softness of my wife, but rather the coarseness of some leather-like surface. I wake up with a start and I am looking straight up, like, fifteen feet straight up, at Kalandar, and he’s holding a sword, nearly double my height.

  “Are you awake?” he asked, leaning down.

  I’m not sure what an exploding heart is supposed to feel like, but I was pretty close to finding out.

  “Got to assume you didn’t wake me up to kill me,” I said as I sat up.

  “Of course not! I would have just plunged this through your head,” he said as he lifted the blade and touched the point with his finger.

  “I don’t think I’m a fan that you’ve thought it out.”

  “It would be effortless, hardly any pressure at all, because the sword is so heavy. You’d never have awakened.”

  “Kalandar! I hope there’s a reason you woke me up besides telling me how easy it would be to stir my brains around.”

  “Hmmm, more like a purée, but yes there is something you are going to want to be witness to.”

  I followed him.

  “Polions,” I said, staring off into the distance. “Looks like they’re right on a line to Denarth. How could they possibly know where people are?”

  “I do not think that they know; they are being led.”

  “Who’s doing the leading?”

  “I believe it to be your Lycan.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  I was back with Azile a few moments later as we looked out over the expanse.

  “Cunning on the part of Mikota,” Azile said.

  “Dickish is more like it.”

  “Is it?” Azile asked. “He comes to us seeking aid and we turn him away, basically tell him it’s his problem.”

  “So now he’s making it our problem,” I concluded. “We have to kill him before he gets there.”

  “There were perhaps fifty, that I saw,” Kalandar said.

  “Only one we need to worry about.” I was looking to where the Lycan were, Azile to where they weren’t.

  “The gate is still of the utmost importance,” she said.

  “They get to Denarth and there’s going to be nothing left worth saving.”

  “I’m uncomfortable when your reasoning is more sound than mine,” she replied.

  “It happens more than you would care to admit.”

  “Careful, Talbot.”

  We were packing up camp–well, I was playing with the kids while the others packed up–when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Although, that makes it sound like something I might potentially have missed. This was a glowing tree, not a sapling under a ray of sun, but a fifty-foot oak, glowing fiery hues of red and orange. What was really strange was that no one else was reacting to this vision. Azile and Kalandar were no more than twenty feet from the spectacle and often turned toward it but made no indication that they could see it. They couldn’t; that had to be the explanation.

  “Is this what having a stroke is like?” I asked as I approached the tree.

  “It is I, Michael.”

  “Whoa. God?”

  “Please, do not call me that.” The voice sounded old, not entirely sure of itself. “‘Maker’ is fine.”

  “Maker?” I let the strange name slide off my tongue. “Is this real?”

  “You are not having a delusion, hallucination or a stroke.” He seemed bemused.

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t that be what I told myself? Wait…holy shit. Is this like that burning bush that Moses saw? I could see how that would be mistranslated over the years. This is much more of a statement, much bolder, I think. The tree over the bush, I mean.”

  “Is there any chance you would hear me speak?”

  I nodded. “Sorry, I just went from thinking I was dying to talking to G…my maker.”

  “Just Maker. Michael, you are in danger. You will face a peril I am not sure I can help you thwart.”

  That threw me for a loop. I’d always held to the theory that God helps those who help themselves. So I never overly expected Him to come and stick His nose into whatever shit I’d stepped into, but when He flat out says you’re on your own, well, that’s a depressing spin.

  “My beloved archangels have turned against me; they have opened the gates of Hades in an effort to end my creation. One or more of them will be visiting you soon; their intention is to end your existence. If they succeed, Michael, it will not just mean your death; it will not be that you simply cease to exist. It will be that you never existed. Your children, their children, and so forth, will never exist. Your family and friends, they will all have died within the first few days of the first trial.”

  “Maker, why am I such an important part of this?”

  “There must always be a champion; is this not so?”

  “That’s the best you have to offer? A champion? And in this great wide world, you could not find one more worthy?”

  “There were many more worthy, and several were set to task. But none had the grit, the humor you possessed; the heart. And to be completely honest, Michael, you are the only one left.”

  “There was more than one?”

  “Where do you believe the saying: ‘do not keep all of your eggs in one basket’ originated?”

  “Not sure how I feel about that, all those other champions dead. I would imagine their legacies continue?”

  “Only up to this point. What happens in this moment will determine the fate of us all.”

  “You’ve got to have some inkling what I’m feeling here, right? Call yourself what you will, but you are the overseer of us all. Now you are telling me that you, above all others, can do nothing.”

  “I did not say I could do nothing, nor that I would not. But you and those around you must do the heavy lifting.”

  “What do we get out of it?”

  “You dare to bargain with me?”

  “Hey! I didn’t come to you with this.”

  “Michael, who are you talking to?” It was Azile; she had come over to talk to me. How she couldn’t see this, I don’t know; her face was glowing from the reflection.

  “Trying to make me look more insane than I already am?” I asked Maker; he did not respond.

  “Mike?” she asked again. She gasped when she placed her hand upon my shoulder. She pulled it back quickly then reached out gingerly to touch it again. Then she started to poke me like one might have the Pillsbury Doughboy, in his time. “What am I seeing here?” she asked, finally resting her hand on me.

  “Azile, meet Maker. Maker, this is my almost wife, Azile.”

  “Almost wife?” she mouthed. I shrugged.

  He was as silent as I used to get when I would mistakenly pick up the phone and there was a bill collector on the other side.

  “As in the Maker?”

  “More proof that my faith in you was justified. She should not be able to see me. Hello, Azile,” Maker finally replied.

  Azile jumped back
; so much so that she lost contact with me.

  “This isn’t happening. This is a spell of some sort.” Azile was looking around wildly for the origin of the sorcery.

  Kalandar had stopped what he was doing to watch the event unfold. From his perspective, I imagine he could not understand the drama being displayed.

  “You want to get in on this?” I asked him.

  “My first instinct shouts strongly for ‘no,’” he replied, though he was lumbering toward me. “I am unsure as to why, when I am around you, I immediately lean towards instinct number two…sometimes twelve.”

  I reached my hand out. He completely enveloped mine in his own. Unlike Azile, he did not let go, but instead clamped down tighter. The ground shook as he fell to his knees; his head bowed to the point where it was nearly scraping the ground.

  “I should not be peering upon this; I am not worthy,” he muttered. His head lifted slightly.

  “Anyone else you would like to bring to the party, Michael?” Maker asked. “Perhaps the breatine?”

  “I’m already here,” Linnick said for my ears only. She was peering straight at the tree, only the top of her head and eyes out of my pocket.

  “Maybe the kids. This seems like one of those ‘once in a lifetime’ events.”

  “I would tell you to take this more seriously, but what is the point? You will go about things in your own manner. Perhaps that is the way it should always have been; it seems the more I meddle, the more disastrous the results.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Azile asked.

  “The archangels are in full-on revolt mode; they’re the ones that opened the gates.”

  “For what purpose?” she asked.

  “They want the garden back,” I said, though I wasn’t sure how I came to that conclusion; seemed logical enough, I suppose.

  “And?” Azile asked me wide-eyed. When I did not immediately respond she got the gist of it. “No!” she said fiercely to Maker. “Find someone else!” her voice thundered.

  “Sadly, there are no others,” he told her.

  “And what would you have us do against seven archangels?”