Miss Macchiato

As you know, I’m working on content for a MUD. Sure, it’s an old style of computer game, but it involves storycraft, world building, quests and serious old school geekery.

The game and its world are based on a new novel I plan to focus on very soon. It takes place in post-apocalyptic earth that’s been overrun by demons. The best and brightest of humanity have been wiped out and all that’s left are those with, shall we say, non-essential skills for a post-apocalyptic world. That’s right — all that’s left are the lawyers, the marketing executives, the web developers, and the like. In essence, it’s you and me, baby.

In preparation for the MUD’s release, I plan to release some “teasers”. They aren’t quite short stories. They’re just meant to give you an idea of what the world (and the new novel) will be like. Part 1 of the teaser can be found here. And now for Part 2:

---

The bolt shot out with a loud pop, hissing and trailing smoke. Movement inside the crevice stopped. Heads turned upward. Tails froze, poised in midair. Yellow eyes followed the water bottle as it plummeted, spinning and spewing a shower of sparks.

From the other side of the crevice, the corporal slung the crossbow over one shoulder and turned his back to them. He signaled with a wave. Two beeps crackled on the headset.

“Go.”

Tooth and the corporal dropped into the ravine.

Johnson was watching the bolt. A sharp popping sound rang out and the bolt was thrown wildly to the left. The soda bottle had been punctured by the firecrackers and it was spraying holy water across the cavern.

The scene on the ground erupted in chaos. Gray, flaky splotches appeared on the demons’ skin wherever the water touched. Unearthly screams echoed off of the cavern walls. The formation they were moving in earlier turned into a panicked evacuation, with each one scrambling over one another to get away.

Johnson exhaled slowly and jammed the butt of his gun into his shoulder. Aiming for the weakened gray spots, he started with the demons close to where Tooth and the corporal were landing.

Gunfire easily went through the wounded splotches and demons fell in a puff of toxic smoke, oozing a tar-like substance. The dead only stirred the demons’ panic further, hastening their flight out of the ravine.

Johnson stepped back from the ledge and flipped up the plate covering his forearm. The screen it protected was alive with activity. Tiny green blips on the edges told him Sarge and the rest of the team were meeting the retreating demons, noted as red blips.

Suddenly, the entire screen winked out, showing nothing but black.

“Piece of crap,” Johnson muttered, banging the side of his gun against the screen. “Come on.” He gave it another whack and the metal plate fell off. “Figures.”

The screen flickered to life and the green blips appeared, all accounted for. The red blips were quickly disappearing. The screen flickered a half-second of blackness again, only to return with an enormous red splotch filling up the center of the screen.

Johnson’s head snapped up toward the Door. The black, swirling mass of energy still hadn’t grown to full size, though the altar that it rested upon was gushing a sickening amount of blood. The flashing symbols had frozen and now only one was displayed – a crescent with various slashes through it and tiny intersecting circles. The symbol morphed from red to a blinding white.

A black dagger poked through the door. As it continued to push itself onto the physical plane, the dagger grew longer, wider, and Johnson could see that it was set on top of a red, leathery bulb. More bulbs with daggers appeared; each one smaller than the last. There were five total emerging.

A shudder rippled through Johnson as he realized — it was a foot. A gigantic foot.

The Door wasn’t large enough to allow the demon onto the physical plane. The edges wavered and stretched, its perfect rectangular shape becoming marred as the demon on the other side tried to push through.

“Corporal!” Johnson shouted. “We’ve got a Flier!”

Apparently that was old news. The corporal couldn’t help but notice the massive foot, and was doing all he could to help wake the rookie, who had passed out cold. Tooth waved her hand beneath the rookie’s nose. Johnson guessed it was smelling salts or something similar, because the rookie jerked and his head bobbed wildly. He was awake, but wouldn’t be much help against one of Hell’s Lieutenants.

The Door throbbed again, its hard edges wavering. A leathery hand came through, gripped the altar, and pulled. The Demon was bent at the waist, trying to fit through.

A voice screamed from beyond the Door, multiple tones layered together — the sounds of deep, ethereal bass and clarion shriek, and everything in between. Every one of Johnson’s muscles clenched when he heard it.

A head emerged through the black screen and angry eyes flickered about the cavern. A bouquet of spikes protruded from its cheeks and flashed in the light. Its mouth opened in a vicious roar, spewing gas.

There was nothing Johnson could do from here. He watched the Corporal and Tooth drag the rookie to the base of the altar. The rookie started to gesture, waving a golden object, looking as if he were performing an exorcism.

They weren’t fast enough. The Door swelled as if giving birth and the demon pushed through, screaming and chanting in its wicked tongue. Black wings trailed after it like snakes, trying to cover a restless, barbed tail.

The appendage lashed out, swiping across dirt and rock, aiming for the trio at the altar.

The corporal had expected it and ducked, hauling the rookie by the scruff of his armor. Tooth wasn’t so lucky and was sent flying. She hit the dirt-packed wall with a loud thud and rebounded, hard, onto the ground.

Johnson picked up his weapon and fired wildly at the demon’s head. Most of the gunfire ricocheted, but a couple of lucky hits pierced the demon’s soft ears. Screaming, the demon straightened to full height. It took a large step forward, too close to the cavern wall for Johnson to see. The tips of its horns poked over the top of the cliff.

Johnson took a few hasty steps back, just as a meaty hand reached up and swiped at the spot he had been standing in. A hungry growl rumbled below.

Johnson raised his weapon again, crouched, and charged forward, ready for another assault on the demon’s ear. As he neared, the hand swept over the edge, fingers reaching for him. He jumped, narrowly escaping its razor-like claws. When he hit the ground, he ran up to the edge and aimed —

But he didn’t fire. Movement on the left caught his eye. A dainty, pink balloon was arcing through the air, its flimsy rubber shell wobbling precariously. It hit the demon on the neck and popped, splashing water across its skin. A gray spot appeared everywhere the water had touched, and its protective hide turned to paper-thin flakes. Sarge and the rest of the team had finally reached the Door.

Johnson watched the demon charge his team, leaving him alone on the ledge. His speaker crackled and a single, long beep erupted in the speakers.

“Johnson, get your ass down on the ground and help get that Door closed.”

He paused, considering the team’s odds.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Sarge.”

Another beep. “That’s an order, Private!”

Muttering to himself, he slung his gun over one shoulder and turned away. As he reached for his rappelling gear, a low hiss filled the air. Johnson whirled back around.

The demon had crouched on all fours and was spewing a yellow gas from its mouth. The noxious cloud spread faster than his team could move. Only one soldier had escaped from it unharmed, running back out of the cavern. Johnson could tell it was Sarge by the duct tape wrapped around both thighs and the torso, and the favored slingshot in one hand. Everyone else was trapped in the cloud, succumbing to the effects of the hallucinogen. The voices of his teammates cut in and out over the radio waves. Someone was trying to pull the affected soldiers from the gas, but they were laughing too hard. Someone else was singing “Wheels On the Bus”.

The demon took off, hot and heavy after Sarge. Johnson dropped his rappelling gear and took off after the demon.

“Corporal!” Johnson said, “Sarge is in trouble! I’m on my way to assist!”

Johnson didn’t get a response from the corporal, which meant he was out of range. The only response was from Sarge. The radio projected absolute calm but the signal was broken by a pregnant pause, indicating she was running hard and out of breath.

“Negative, Johnson.” Pause. “Get your —” Pause. “ass down —” Longer pause. “to that Door!”

“Negative, Sarge!”

Johnson followed the demon thirty yards, where it was spinning in circles, swiping vainly at the tiny figure running laps around its feet. Sarge wasn’t even paying attention to where the gun was pointed, firing erratically in the air.

Johnson ran straight up to the edge, waited for the demon to turn and expose itself, and fired off a heavy round. Bits of gray matter and black goo splattered from its neck.

“Johnson! I said —”

Ignoring her, he fired again, giving the demon’s ear another heavy assault. By now, a small hole had formed in the lobe, and he could see through to the other side. Johnson decided it must have hurt like hell because the demon turned toward him and charged the ledge again. This time, its wings extended fully, like black sails catching wind. The sound they made as they beat the air was deafening.

The monstrous beast rose. Its head and shoulders came into clear view over the crag’s edge and red, feline eyes focused on Johnson. Its mouth opened wide, exposing a double row of needle-like teeth. Yellow gas preceded a deafening roar.

Johnson knew he couldn’t get away in time. He reached into his utility bag, searching for anything he could use to defend himself with. He felt a metal sphere at the bottom. Grabbing it, he hastily pulled it out, accidentally flinging everything else out of his pack.

It was a rusty, old grenade. He jerked the pin off. With all his strength, he lobbed it toward the demon’s open mouth and sucked in a deep breath just before the mist engulfed him.

The grenade made a clanking noise as it bounced around the demon’s teeth and dropped into its throat. The demon’s roar became a choking, gargled sound and its body convulsed.

Johnson spun around and bolted in the opposite direction. His voice echoed inside his helmet.

“Grenade!”

Two seconds later, a sickening splat echoed across the rock. Johnson dove for the ground but was unable to escape the spray. Flaming bits of demon innards pelted hard against his armor and black goo speckled the ground around him. He lay quietly for a minute, half-hoping he was dead.

The radio crackled and made a long, solitary beep.

“Johnson, if you weren’t already the lowest ranking grunt in this outfit, I’d demote you.”

He considered that for a moment, then rolled over on his back.

“Me too, Sarge,” he said. “Me too.”