Pine Needles (Veil Realms Series) (3 page)

What little skin I do see i
s painted gold, making the flesh almost appear godly. My leery eyes wander and study his helmet which jackets his face. Solid steel carved in rivers of gold, ivory horns spear upward from each side but the front is the most nerving sight to me. The upper and lower jaw of a human embellishes the majority, leaving the eye sockets for his to glow the color of blood through. 

He suddenly startles me when he one-handedly whirls a massive single-bladed battle axe down next to his armored boots, seemingly to rest his hands over the six-foot hilt.  The other lingering warriors reassemble carrying their own mélange of death-dealing weapons. Swords, steel spears, throwing axes, battle maces, to capacious battle hammers. Words never used while they communicate, a few nods and complex gestures from their hands concludes their next move.

My interpretation is that… he, the tallest and more gilded with gold is the leader of the pack. He reminds me of a medieval executioner as he stands back observing while the others continue the hunt. Steadily, he begins to stride away from me. My legs teeter under the pressure of hunching down for so long, diving forward I grasp a sliver of a branch hanging in the underbrush. The twigs rustle and snap beneath my shifting weight, my heart doubles its thundering rhythm. I vault up and thrust my way into the woodland, barging into the quiet wildlife, I listen to only my weighty breathing. Even the animals know when the damned is near.

A growing habit I flicker a glimpse back and my spri
nt almost comes to a standstill. The leader stands holding a heavily bone-spiked armored arm up in a soundless order, halting instantly two warriors in their pursuit of me. My precarious feet trip over a rock, but I compensate lurching forward and pick up speed. This thin stretch of dense woods doesn’t run far, heading north I know there is a park nestled along this side of the trees. Maybe, just maybe complete havoc hasn’t overridden there, but my hopes fade once I brush past the last tree.

Car alarms blaring, fire spurts out like a fountain several feet in the air from collapsed buildings, one being the old
city courthouse. Strangely, the only intact structure is the playground and a church. A swing ghostly creaks back and forth as if it holds a laughing child. Sending a chill of goose bumps along my body, I creep down the empty street cringing with every step. Men, women, and children screaming, a half-naked man races by me yelling obscenities while he rips off the last article of clothing, “The end of times! The Apocalypse!” His small manly frame disappears into a shadowy alleyway. 

A young woman not much older than me begins shouting in my direction. She’s trapped under a van, I stumble over to her. “Please, please help m
e.” I scan the situation grimly. I’m actually astounded that she is still alive.

Disheartened, I know I can’t pick up the vehicle, her hand reaches out gripping my ankle, so I kneel down
and ask, “What’s your name?”

“
Valerie....” I pull my fragmented hair clip out tossing it, peering down the street on the verge of tears, feeling powerless and defeated. And I don’t know what I’m fighting against, no idea of what is happening or what’s going to happen next.

“Well
Valerie, my name is Selene.” I look into her glassy blue eyes, noticing the blood seeping from her mouth. She coughs out globs of blood enough to fill a large-sized cup.

Weakly she softly asks me, “They…
they never sounded the public warning sirens.” Her crushed form of a body shakes uncontrollably.

I place my hand on hers
. “It happened so fast, I don’t think anyone had enough time to even think.” Cold to the touch I lay her hand in my lap trying to comfort her as much as I can.

“I
think I hear it now—” I stare down in confusion, as her own frozen gaze bores through me. I tilt my head upward as I ask, trying to contain my own stirring delirium inside.

“Hear what?” And then I realize what she must have heard, a flock of buzzards call out, circling
high above us in the clear cloudless sky.

“No, I think it’s just some birds...
Valerie.” When I glance back down to her, I know she’s no longer with me.

With a hint of reservation I gingerly place her hand down, and ease away carefully. I stand as reality slaps me in the face, alone in a bisected hell hole
. Where are the survivors? And where the hell are the dead bodies?  Other than Valerie, and the male stripper, the city has become barren, as if answering my thoughts a high-pitched scream scatters my last sensible-nerve making me jump back, landing against another overturned car.

Several women storm around a corner, clothes stained in blood and terror soaked into their faces. My body locks up just like the first time I watch the gruesome scene evolve, sadistic warriors hurl battle axes through the putrid air as bodies’ slump to the demolished asphalt. The huddle of females charge hectically in my dire
ction, and the ax assault cedes. Regrouping myself I run bounding for the church.

A slender woman barrels past me, but she suddenly shrieks out gripping her hand. As I near her I can see a dart penetrating clear through her palm, she looks over to me in revulsion. “No....”

It’s the only word she whispers before she slumbers over on top of me, without hesitating I instinctively shove her back. Uncertain if she is dead or unconscious I have no time to debate as more feather white darts air-raid the sky.  Women fleeing in different directions, I leap across the hood of a car, practically rolling head first in the double bladed grass. Once I plant my feet firmly down, I never look back, hurdling myself through a busted out window on the east side of the church.

Considering the circumstances, I camber low to the wooden floor, leading up to a pew I wait, listen, and wipe the muted tears from my flushed face. The attacks reel about in my mind, it feels like we are being herded and taken, but for what purpose I’m at a loss. Mostly women in this ordeal, so where are the men?

The unhallowed barbarians rally outside as they drag or toss the women over their shoulders and amble away.  I scoot back next to a pew and cling to my filthy once white top thinking, my whimpering noises will draw their attention. But I realize it’s not me....

I quickly swivel around to the grieving sound, staring up to the pulpit not finding the cause instantly, I crawl forward. Edging nearer I see a table with a creamy textured linen draping it,
I slink hastily along, the sobs grow louder and louder. Still being watchful I pull the cloth back, holding a hymn book with my other hand, ready to pulverize anyone to death with Kum ba yah.

A young girl bunched up into a ball hiding under the table, her knees tucked up tightly bene
ath her chin. “Who are you?” Her voice is barely audible, as she smears the dark tear-tainted mascara across her cheeks. I immediately lower the book, dropping it to the floor.

“I'm Selene, sorry… I didn't mean to frighten you, but I heard you crying.”

I watch her comb through her thick hair with trembling hands, noting the brave fuchsia red dyed strands. “Why aren't you?” Wiping the tip of her nose with the end of her sleeve, I sweep a glance over her looking for any injuries, and answer back with resolve.

“Why aren't I, what?”  

Sniffling she replies in a chafed tone, “Crying.”  I peek up eyeing the windows, and shrug quietly. Outside has become eerily silent, no movement, no screams, not even the wailing from the scavenging buzzards that climbed the skies just moments ago.

“I was, but it’s not going to help me right now...” I pause blinking at her callow green eyes. “What's your name?”

“Tiffany, Tiffany Henry.” Thoughtlessly she nibbles on her well-worn polished coral pink fingernails, “What do you see, Selene?”

I shift to my other knee, taking another inquiring glimpse at the windows.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” I sigh and look back at Tiffany. Giving her a half smile, “You look familiar... haven’t I seen you around before?” She slowly unfolds herself from her constraining hold and slips out from under the table.

“Yeah, maybe so, you own that herbal shop down on Scottsdale Street.” I nod sitting down stretching my legs out, I feel her eyes examine me, “My mother and I used to come to your shop and buy your cold remedy teas, until my dad made us stop.”

Peering over her in wonder I ask, “Why?”

Her eyes fill with tears as she tries clearing her throat, “My twin sister died about six months ago from an illness, and my dad sa
id it was because we went to a Voodoo shop, your natural remedies were the work of the devil, and of course he's all-holier-than-thou. My mother finally divorced him a month ago, she never believed his rants and neither did I... I guess he just wanted someone to blame.”

“I'm so sorry, I didn't know. I remember your mom
though, she was—” I look in her eyes for a sign as to her mother's whereabouts, living or sadly caught in the onslaught. I'm answered with a bleak frown, wanting a distraction I sit up straighter, coaching myself to sound placate, focusing on the now and what our next step of survival will be.

“So, I suppose this place has water.” Averting my eyes I look for a water fountain, assuming something li
ke that would be located toward the main doors. I jump up dusting my hands off on my pants when Tiffany follows my lead, standing she points over to a small nook a few feet from us.

“Well, they do have holy water,
” She teases with a slight quirky grin and my eager gaze trails her finger to a water dispenser completely full. We both drink out of the diminutive paper cups, one after another and find the water is still chilled which becomes an instant relief to my arid mouth. I toss our cups in the trash, and pace across the pulpit making a mental list: Shelter...check, water...check, food—”

A blatant bang rattles the main doors of the church, on impulse my head snaps in the direction as an axe shatters the doors to splinters. Striding through the mangled, twisted frame the unearthly warriors begin to embody the sanctuary. Tiffany grips my arms from behind m
e, her body jerks with hysteria. “What do we do?”

Yanking her paralyzing grip free I clasp her hands in mine
. “Run.” Holding her one hand, I whirl her in front of me shoving her to the stairs. Our feet rush to the steps as I ascend I reach out gripping a brass donation plate.

Tiffany trips on the top step which acutely saves us from the parlous darts, scrambling to our feet I shoot a look back. A warrior aiming a blow dart fires a white quill, while my body desperately tries to scamper up the next step, my instincts kick in, holding up the donation plate as a shield. A dull sound thunks as the dart drills through the solid metal, making my hands shake from the hit. I swallow the stringent lump in my throat taking in the ineffable force just displayed before me. 

I feel my arm being tugged on and I quickly realize Tiffany is pulling me up and shouting, “Selene... come on Selene!”  Finding my balance I bolt in behind her, fleeting to the upper level it appears to be more of a private storage area. High arched alabaster ceilings allowing an eternal space for piles of boxes and numerous containers, we screech to a halt and I know we have nowhere else to run. The only window is a circular prismatic stained glass, and discouragement drains through me. Tiffany nudges my arm and hands me a candle stick and says, “Here maybe we can fight them off with fire.” Before I can query my main thought she pulls a lighter from her front pocket.

Tiffany lights my candle and begins ripping pages out of old hymn books agilely igniting a line in front of us. The fire catches and radiates a sea of flames, as warriors form like phantoms before us. I glance over to her gravely and steady myself with a flicker of a flaming candle in my one hand and terror beating my heart.

The undeniable fulgid leader slams the others out of his bestial way and plods through the fire. I realize for whatever vindication, he allowed me to escape earlier, maybe it was the thrill of the chase, but my instincts tell me now, I’m not going to get a second chance this time. His butchery radiant eyes narrow menacingly, making my blood run cold, and I begin to consider the stain glass window as our deliverance. Before my mind entirely comprehends the odds, I charge heedlessly towards the glass.

Assuming Tiffany notes my intentions, I glance over when a dart skewers her in the neck, hitting a tender vein and the trickle of crimson blood surges down along her chest. Alarmed emerald eyes stare at me as her ghastly body plunges to the floor.

Again, I’m faced with confliction, is she alive? An ill-advised thought rises... if she is, for how long before they torture her to death. 

Clinging to the churning thought I start to lunge when a sharp piercing pang hits my upper shoulder. My muscles tighten and I feel like my bones liquefy as I slump with insipidness. I’m heaved over an armored shoulder and a triturated breath
s gasp out of me, which apart of me is relieved because I truly do not wish to die.

The rough jostling sways my ebony hair back and forth, reminding me of how my arms must look motioning numbly to his steadfast gait. Only a few senses are left, sight and smell, a heady scent buffets around me, a richly deep resin scent, and mixtures of plants, leather, flesh, and blood.  My stomach would have been turning if I wasn’t so deadened. I stare blankly at the dripping red axe being drug steadily behind his heavy footsteps.