Blood Lite II: Overbite (8 page)

Gorger lashed out, grabbing Byakhee and crushing them. The winged creatures fell, pulped, while the humans scampered away.

“Lesson one, Shebboth. Let starvation take its course,” Gorger said.

“So, lesson two. Byakhee tartar is a no,” Gorger said. The humans had degraded, their diet of profane meat warping their bodies. For some, their spines were twisted 180 degrees so that they stared down the backs of their legs. For others, they grew webbing between their loins, or their arms and torso, or each other. Flesh flaps covered their eyes and three died when their skin suffocated them. A couple more perished when Shebboth discovered that “mouth-to-mouth resuscitation” and “inhale” were in fact two different sentiments.

“I found more humans for the colony,” Shebboth offered.

“Alive?”

“Punched the holes in the bus myself.”

“How many?”

“Oh, lots of holes.”

“How. Many. Humans.”

“Twelve. This time we should feed them the flesh of cooked cows. I found some of those, too.”

“Did you,” Gorger asked, suspicion lacing his voice. “How convenient.”

“Isn’t it,” Shebboth said, chuckling nervously. “I’ll go get ’em.”

“Wait,” Gorger said. “How’d you suddenly start figuring things out?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, his chameleon eyes darting left, right, behind . . . anywhere Gorger wasn’t. “Evolutionary leap? Maybe I ate someone smarter.”

“A retarded lobster says what?”

“What?”

“You didn’t eat someone smarter!” Gorger snapped. “Who’s helping you?”

“Nobody!”

“Who?”

“Nobody important!”

“Who?”

“Nobody bad . . . okay . . . Nyarlathotep.”

“The shape-shifter?!”

“Yeah.”

“The Crawling Chaos?”

“I think he’s upright these days.”

“The Charmer and Deceiver?”

“Well, you can’t believe everything his exes say,” he replied defensively.

“Shebboth! The colony is a secret!”

“He tricked it out of me,” he pleaded.

“Tricked you how?”

“Well he asked if I‘d seen any humans around and I said no.”

“Shebboth!”

“I said yes. But he was very cunning.”

Gorger hesitated and thought about it a moment. “So he has humans and a few cows, does he? What’s the exchange?”

At that, Shebboth paused with an expression that suggested he had a thought, and that in coming to it, it was a terribly painful experience. “Y’know, he didn‘t say. Maybe he did it out of the kindness of his heart.”

“He doesn‘t have a heart.”

“Sure he does, I saw it.”

“His
own
heart?”

“Oh! I see what you’re getting at. Then, no.”

“I’m not agreeing to any terms with Nyarlathotep, not without seeing
all
his hands on the table.”

“What do I tell him?”

“That you had no right to strike a bargain with him, and certainly not on my behalf. Look, Shebboth, this may be our last chance to find humans. And nobody knows more about them than Nyarlathotep.”

“So I say what now?”

Gorger sighed. “Tell him to deal with me.”

“Right. And what about the retarded lobster?”

“We’ll kill it later. Promise.”

Nyarlathotep was a dashing figure—human in appearance, his skin a dark Egyptian bronze. A pinch of a beard, shaven with the precision of a sharp word, black hair greased back and eyes that reflected all gilt of snake. He wore a black suit and sat in the owner’s box so that he might stare straight into Gorger’s abyssal deep eyes. A scarab pin adorned the lapel of his jacket. It was upside down, because that’s how he rolled.

“Something to drink?” Gorger offered. The stadium seats groaned under his bulk as he leaned to speak into the owner’s box.

“Please,” Nyarlathotep replied, smiling.

“Hastur,” Gorger said casually. A squadron of two dozen Byakhee appeared, looking angry. They dive-bombed Gorger, spitting and hissing at him. War had been declared, but as in all such things, the Byakhee had been partying the night prior and were too drunk to send the declaration in time. Gorger naturally took the ambush in stride, “naturally” being relative here. He snatched one Byakhee from the air and twisted its head off. The black ichor poured out of its neck spout into a plastic cup that Gorger’s lower hand carried. Shebboth caught the tossed carcass and devoured it with lip-smacking greed.

The other Byakhee screeched in panic and abandoned the battle; they vanished. Nyarlathotep accepted the cup and sipped the drink graciously before grinning at Gorger.

“They don’t seem to like you.”

“A misunderstanding,” Gorger replied. “They misunderstood their chances.”

“Ah. In that case, shall we dispense with the usual verbal parry and thrust and get to business?”

“You have humans.”

“Yes.”

“And cows.”

“And assorted other animals that proved themselves.”

“Proved?”

“As lovers. Meals. Both, really.”

“How?”

“Well, for starters, approach from the rear least you spook—”

“No, no.
Why
did you hide them?”

Nyarlathotep nodded in sudden understanding. “Forethought.” He leaned forward, in confidence. “Just between the two of us?” Nyarlathotep said.

“Uh-huh,” Shebboth responded, leaning forward as well. Gorger nudged him back and motioned for his guest to continue.

“I knew this would happen,” Nyarlathotep said. “Maybe the other Ancients can get away with an air of otherworldly indifference, but the rest of us defined ourselves by humanity’s conquest.”

Gorger straightened up in shocked understanding. “Of course. You cannot hate or want something without it characterizing you. And that when humans were gone?”

“Our reason for being vanished with them.”

They were quiet a moment, contemplating the significance of this.

“That means—” Gorger whispered.

“One good turn deserves a human?” Shebboth offered.

“No.”

“What is the sound of one human clapping?”

“No.”

“If a human falls in the forest—”

“No!” Gorger shouted. “It means we’re tainted.”

“Well, I knew that,” Shebboth said. “In fact, that’s what Azathoth told me. “Do,” he said. “Do, rey, rey fa sol ti ti la.”

“And what a wasted initiative that was,” Nyarlathotep remarked. “Whose bright idea was it to use Julie Andrews to spread Azathoth’s musical insanity?”

They both glanced at Shebboth.

“Hey!” he complained. “‘The Hills are Alive,’ was a great song until they changed the lyrics.”

“So what did Azathoth say?” Gorger asked.

“The higher-ups worry that humanity has influenced us,” Nyarlathotep responded. “So, we found a new world, teeming with life. We’re going there to—”

“Start over?” Gorger said with a colossal groan that shook the stadium’s rafters.

“Well, the first part’s not so bad,” Shebboth offered. “All the planning was fun. Besides, this time they promised it’d be different.”

“They always say that,” Nyarlathotep replied. “But when the slaughter comes, we lose control.”

“Then it’s done,” Gorger said, his mouth tentacles slumping. “We’ve wasted an eternity here and we’re looking at the same ahead of us. So much for the human colony.”

“Maybe not,” Nyarlathotep said. “I have to go because the others no longer trust me. They think I’ve been among men too long—this is the only way to regain their confidence. But you can stay behind.”

“And raise your humans?” Gorger leaned forward with renewed interest.

“Yes! Help my worshippers survive and thrive until the sun shines again.”

“Then what?” Gorger asked.

“Then genocide . . . on a small scale,” Nyarlathotep replied. “The occasional city, nothing extravagant. But this time, no Cthulhu to flood Europe with his three left feet, or Color-from-out-of-Space trying to dazzle all those blind children at the orphanage.”

“They did seem perplexed,” Shebboth said.

Gorger exchanged glances with Shebboth and then nodded. “So how many humans we talking about?”

Nyarlathotep smiled deeply.

They could not be seen towering above the human enclave. The ring of glacier-topped peaks and frozen wilderness surrounded the Edenlike jungle below them with its self-contained warmth. Upon closer inspection, the mountains proved to be colossal edifices of staggering height, irregular in proportions and alien in the organic spirals carved into the icy rock. That Nyarlathotep had hidden humans in the Mountains of Madness was, in fact, a credit to his twisted genius. And now that the Great Old Ones had departed with the Lesser-but-Still-Rather-Swell-Ones in tow, Gorger and Shebboth were the remaining greatest of the mythos.

“So,” Shebboth said. “What should we do with them?”

“This place should suffice until they become too many. Then,” he said, “we cast them to the four corners to populate the—”

A scream followed and Gorger watched as a human went flying over the mountains toward the horizon. He grabbed Shebboth’s arm before he could lob another. “Figure of speech,” he said quickly.

“Oh,” Shebboth said. “My bad.”

“We have to be careful now,” Gorger replied. “As much as they’re Nyarlathotep worshippers, they’re still only human. They’re still susceptible to insanity and disease and the elements. We leave them to fornicate and grow. And we make sure nothing kills them off.”

“So we can’t eat ’em.”

“No,” Gorger said. “That’s part of
keeping them alive.
”

“Oh.”

“Still, I think this calls for a toast? To our new enterprise?”

“Sure,” Shebboth said.

“And I know just the drink . . . Hastur.”

The Byakhee appeared, but this time by the thousands. They filled the sky, black against pitch. They rocketed for Gorger and Shebboth, slamming into their faces, their bodies. It didn’t hurt so much as surprise the pair.

Gorger swept his arms through the cloud, blindly batting them away by the dozens, but it wasn’t until the humans screamed that he realized the ruse. Another panicked sweep of his arms scattered the swarm enough to reveal the carnage below.

The Byakhee, outnumbering them, tore at mortal and animal alike; two or three pulling them apart, slicing through muscle and bone, devouring flesh, carrying them high into the air and dropping them.

“No, no, NO!” Gorger screamed, but that only drove the revenge-starved Byakhee into greater frenzy. Gorger tried stopping them, crushing swarmed humans and Byakhee alike.

“Is this part of the toast?!” Shebboth asked, clapping his claws together.

“No!” shouted Gorger, but it was too late. He killed Byakhee by the score, but the only humans that remained were human remains. The trees dripped with their blood, the ground was littered with their body parts. The Byakhee simply vanished, cackling madly at the mayhem.

Gorger collapsed against the mountain face, unmindful of the bloody litter around him.

“Wow,” Shebboth said, examining the surrounding destruction. “This all looks so familiar, huh?”

“Shut up,” Gorger said. He sat there a few moments before finally standing and wiping the gore from himself. He could no longer look at the red-glazed jungle.

“What now?” Shebboth asked.

“We join the others at the new world,” he said, casting a forlorn last look back at the barren Earth. “This time, we’ll do it right,” he said to himself, nodding. “This time it’ll be different.”

“That’s the spirit!” Shebboth cheered, patting his friend on the back. Without another word, both of them vanished in a twinkling of the darkness they called home. To face another eon. And dwell on all the might have beens.

Tails

JOHN R. LITTLE

Marie was late getting home from work, but she had a good reason. I could tell as soon as she climbed out of her car.

It’s not that I snoop on my wife or anything, but I just happened to be looking out the big bay window in the living room when her tan Honda Civic pulled into the driveway.

She yawned briefly, then clamped her mouth shut as she slammed the door and pushed the button on her keyless remote. I could hear the car’s faint beep drift through the window.

She smiled and waved at me, her long blond hair flowing behind her in the wind. For about the millionth time, I thanked the gods that had brought us together a dozen years earlier.

Of course, smiles are deceiving, so although it was nice to see, that’s not what told me she was in a good mood.

It was her tail pointing up to the sky that gave her away. It was doing some serious wagging.

I love Marie’s tail. It’s a beautiful blond color, exactly matching her hair. She keeps it immaculately groomed, even though that costs her a lunch hour every couple of weeks when she heads to the groomer.

My
tail, on the other hand, is pathetic. I can’t remember the last time I had the thing trimmed, let alone a complete grooming.

When Marie came through the front door, I smiled and gave her a long hug and kiss. I reached behind her and loosely grasped the base of her tail. The feel of it swishing faster and faster was so damned erotic.

Her tail was average length, about two feet, but wonderfully thick—my fingers barely reached around it. My own tail started to sway slowly as I rubbed hers.

“What’s the good news?” I asked when we finally broke apart.

She laughed and glanced behind her. “Can’t much hide it, can I?”

My tail was swaying in time with hers now. I was always so happy to have my wife home. She worked in downtown Detroit, twenty miles away, making tons of money investing other people’s cash, while I looked for marketing opportunities on the Internet. Most days, my wagger dragged pretty low until I got a good look at her coming through the front door.

“Let’s get a glass of wine,” she suggested.

I poured as we slid into a couple of old rattan kitchen chairs, carefully guiding ourselves through the wooden slots.

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

I laughed, knowing she was dying to tell me what was up. She wouldn’t be able to stop swinging until she told me.

“I got a promotion!” she finally said. It looked like she wanted to leap out of the chair, but she held back at the last minute, not wanting to injure herself. “Vice president of investment banking!”

“That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

We clinked glasses while I secretly wondered what investment banking might be. I had absolutely no idea what Marie really did from nine to five, but it was easy to see she was ecstatic.

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

The wine had been sitting in the fridge for a week or more, a bottle partially drunk in front of the latest
Survivor
season premiere. I wondered if we had more wine in the basement. It seemed like we might want to be doing a lot of celebrating.

Thwack, thwack.

I was momentarily surprised that it was
my
tail banging the chair this time. Not as rapidly as Marie’s, but at least she could tell I was happy for her. She smiled broadly when she heard the sound, and my heart melted as it always did, which just made my tail swing a bit faster.

We caught up on the rest of the day’s news. My side was pretty boring. The letter carrier dropped off a couple of books I had ordered, I picked up a precooked ham to warm up for dinner, and the cat had puked on the living room rug.

I didn’t much want to concentrate on the cat mess, so I told Marie about a homeless guy who was wandering the street earlier in the day. “You wouldn’t have believed how terrible he looked. Tail just hanging straight down from his tail-hole, and I could see bugs crawling all over it. I thought
I
was bad about getting to the groomer, but maybe it takes somebody like that to really show you how lucky we are.” I sipped my wine and added, “No life in him at all. Limp as a dead snake.”

Marie nodded. I knew she didn’t really care about things like that.

She told me more about the meeting where she got her promotion.

“I hadn’t expected anything at all like this,” she said. “Robby called me in after lunch, and I’m sure he knew I was worried. I was just swaying back and forth restlessly. He must have enjoyed watching me.”

Robby was the president of the investment company. I couldn’t remember his last name. I’d only met him once and wasn’t impressed.

“He just stretched things out, didn’t tell me what we were meeting about for almost ten minutes. Yapping about this and that. He even made me stand the whole time. I’m sure he was just enjoying watching my reaction. At least I thought so, at first, but . . .”

I looked at her. “But?”

She shook her head. “He was just making a point.”

Now I was more puzzled than ever. He sounded like an asshole to me, making her show her emotions in front of him.

“How did you do?”

“Damned tail just wouldn’t stay still. Slow circles, but sometimes it tried to hide between my legs. I was worried sick, thinking maybe he was going to fire me or something. There was that series of layoffs a couple months ago. Remember I told you about that?”

My tail drooped and dragged back and forth above the linoleum as I tried to think back. Did she tell me something about that?

“Don’t worry,” she said, letting me off the hook. “Like I said, he was just trying to make a point.”

“I still don’t understand,” I said.

“My new job . . . so much of it involves talking to
very
senior investors. Chief financial officers of Fortune 500 companies, mostly.” She gulped down her wine and went to the fridge to pour some more.

No thwacking anymore.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, it’s just that the deals are so much bigger than I’m used to. If I’m talking to a prospective customer, and I know I’ve got him hooked, I can’t have my tail lifting up and pointing up at the ceiling. The customer would know how excited I was.” She shook her head. “The sale would be killed.”

I was confused. “But that’s just the way the world works.”

Marie reached out her hand and touched mine. “I’ll have to have it amputated.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Her beautiful blond tail cut off? What? How could she even think of that for one second?

“Everyone in a senior position does it these days. When’s the last time you saw a press conference by any government official with a tail?”

“But that’s different. They’re always lying to us, and they don’t want us to know.”

“Well, yes. I won’t be lying to anyone, but the principle is the same. I can’t do the job if my tail is always giving my thoughts away.”

I never did tell her I approved, and neither did my tail, but of course she did it anyway. I tried to support her as best I could. After all, I loved her more than anything.

We had the stub of her tail cauterized. Now, when I want to see it, I just have to go to the living room; Marie’s tail is mounted above the fireplace.

When she comes home now, I can’t tell how she feels. She climbs out of her Civic and smiles, but I don’t know if it’s real or an act for my benefit.

She never mentions that my tail rarely swings for her when she comes through the front door.

I can’t help it. She just doesn’t look human anymore.