Chapter VII
"What?
Why do I have to do it?" I said, staring at Nova's emotionless
visage like she was crazy
"Because
they know us. We're high profile. If you go, they'll think you're a
demon hunter or something like that. When they move, we can take them
by surprise. And flank them. Just get to cover once the light show
start."
I
let out a deep sigh and looked out the window. Camilla's Cadillac,
one of old ones from the 60's, drove thru the traffic of the evening.
Camilla drove the same as last time I'd seen her. Like a goddamn
maniac.
Don't
mistake me, she wasn't a bad driver. She was actually incredible! I
would've destroy several cars and in the smaller streets houses if I
had tried that.
Just
like when she had directed me in my old workplace, her timing was
incredible. She dodged cars and bypassed them with only an inch of
space between them. All of that at an insanely fast speed.
And
for some ungodly reason, nobody around seem to notice or care...
"How
are these people keeping calm with you driving?"
"That's
the Veil. Since we use magic, we disconnect ourselves with the
mundane world. We become somewhat out of sync with it. People over
look us, cameras can't seem to focus right by themselves, documents
concerning us get lost. On a side note, that makes computers a real
bitch to use..."
"I
see... Is there a way to cancel that?"
"It's
a limited effect. Interact with people and they'll snap out of it.
And It'll lose some documents in the mail, but set up posters of
yourself all across town and it won't help. Also it won't work if
humans perceive a direct threat. Like raising a gun at someone.
Survival instinct can't be overcome. Even with magic."
“Doesn't nearly
ramming someone going nearly double the speed limit count?”
“People feel
pretty safe in their car.”
As we had driven
down the the place, Nova explained to me pretty much all I'd needed
to know about Ghouls
“You've already
encountered ghouls, so you know what they're capable. The biggest
problem is their resistance and venom. Fire is the best way to hurt
them, large blades and forces second. Remember this really, REALLY,
well: Their claws dispense a paralising venom, don't let them touch
you.”
“You said this was
a family, what does that mean? There could be possible children?”
“Ghouls don't
reproduce sexually, their saliva contains a certain venom that begins
the victim's transformation. The good news is that at the early
stages, regular medecine can kill it off. Which is why they paralise
their victims.”
“Alright... Not
very motivating to know... Why are they disguising as morticians and
embalmers?”
“Ghouls feed human
flesh exclusively. Nine times out of ten, they feed on carrion in
cemetaries. Some however, develop a taste for fresh meat. It becomes
like a drug to them...”
“I don't know
which one I'd rather eat” I said in digust
“Actually, to
them, Carrion taste bland. You could compare it to oatmeal. While
fresh meat would be pizza. Which seems like you'd always take the
latter, but let's say you live in a world of vegetarians that lynch
everyone who eats fast food or meat. What do you do?”
“I don't know I
guess do it in secret or find an alternative, like vegge-pizza.”
“Bingo! The
compromise in this case would be meat from the freshly expired
people.”
*****
It was only by
ungodly luck that we ever managed to reach our destination; Moriary &
Sons was a small and old stone building, that stood in the shadows of
the above ground highway. It held it's own spot at the end of a tiny
dead ended street, behind with a crummy drycleaner and facing what I
could only presume was warehouse or a snuff film studio.
A quick research on
the place's history revealed very little about the place, but peering
at the ghoul mortician's past he had attended the place for his
mother's funeral two week before Will's accident...
The business was a
all in one, embalmer, funery home and crematorium. The service wasn't
known to be regal but prices were dirt cheap so it was popular for
those who couldn't shell out a lot of money.
The poorly lit
building was positively gothic, with plaster gargoyles on the roof
and unengraved tombstones on the side of the building. With the
nearest street light miles away and a cloudy moonless night, all the
place was lacking was a horror film soundtrack.
Behind me, the girls
unpacked their stuff from the car. It says a lot about who you travel
with when they don't need to bring anything, all the guns and swords
you could need are neatly placed in the custom made racks in the
car's trunk...
Moments later, I had
been outfitted with a machette, a heavy pistol and a surely very
legal sawed-off shotgun. Which was the oposite from the lady's
arsenal; Longsword and a wooden pole for Camilla and Nova had gotten
a pair of six inch knives and... I don't know, some kind of wrist
crossbows with flares on the bolts.
“No BFG tonight?”
I asked.
“The ghouls are
too fast. Beside, we need to be quiet.”
“And I don't?”
“Well, you are
the bait”
“Lucky me.”
I slid the shotgun
down into the trenchcoat Cam just happened to have on hand, which was
exactly my size and held the pistol in my right, the blade in my
left.
“I'm ready to go”
I declared rather reluctant to walk into a lair full of nasties.
“What's the plan?”
“You go down the
back, the door will most likely be locked. Just shoot the lock. Once
you're in, head for the basement. That's where they prepare the
bodies at this hour, they are probably feasting.”
“Awesome.” I
grunted at nova
It didn't take long
to get to the back, but prebattle stress made it seem like it went on
forever, not helped in the least by the complete lack of vision. I
held the Pistol, a Desert Eagle, by the look of it, tightly in hands.
I hadn't fired a
shot since I was twelve, but atleast I wasn't a total newbie. I
remembered my father's lesson...
*****
“Hold the gun
strait, with both hands, calm your breathing, slow it down and look
down the sight.”
I fired several
rapid shots at the cans he had set up on a stump on our camp sight.
The pistol barked and spewed hot lead into the forest, never once
hitting the targets
The firm hand of my
father held both of my shoulder, pushing them down gently.
“You need to
correct your position. Take your time, aim each shot. Panic fire will
just waste bullet. Give yourself time to recover from the recoil
Zeke.”
As he had
instructed, I took a more correct stance and once again aimed.
Breathe in...
Breathe out...
In...
Out...
Again, the gun
roared loudly across the clearing, a single shot left the barrel, I
almost could see the bullet ripping through the air, lodging itself
right into the empty beer can, sending it flying back as the bullet
effortlessly ripped it's way across it...
“Well done buddy.”
My father said with a slap on my shoulder and a smile as broad as a
highway
At the time, I'd
felt estactic, not for the succesful shoot. By the approval in his
voice was worth a milion cool new toys for me.
We sat by the
campfire and as I did, He got a pair of cans from the cooler, tossing
me one. And it wasn't just pepsi.
“I can't drink
that, 'Pa”
“Shut up,” He
told me with a smile “You've earned it.”
And so I drank my
first beer... And immediately spit it out to the sound of my father's
roaring laughter. Man that was nasty stuff.
*****
As much as my
childhood and adulthood had been messed up, with the right
perspective you can really enjoy things that had been bad. My father
will a good man had been shellshocked in the war. He went from
Ex-militari to fully fledged wandering survivalist, paranoid
conspiracy theorist.
Altought I cherish
that day even today, it was also one of the most painful memory I've
had. It was three months later that he passed away, drowned in the
sea of delusions he had lived in...My mother and I left it all
behind. We settled down, she and I became normal. Went to school,
found a job, had friends and a 401k.
Until these ghouls
fucked it all up.
As I stepped out of
the abyss and walked to the back down, next to which was a single
weak light bulb. I realised something... I wasn't afraid. Not afraid
of them, Not afraid to face and destroy them.
And that terrified
me.
You don't stop being
afraid of fights, afraid of you enemy. Because if you do, you are
well and all insane. Fear is what motivates you to stay alive. To
keep safe. To do everything you can to keep on fighting and live
another day.
“It's time.” I
whispered to myself, raising the 50. pistol at the door. It screamed
out as I hit the trigger. The noise carried all around us. A warning
to all that the battle was just beginning.
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