Six

1 – Officer McIntyre

   It might have been wrong of Davis McIntyre to have dealt with the kids back at the checkpoint the way he did. The way they looked at him like a beacon of guidance, a lighthouse meant to illuminate them out from the darkness. For their trouble, he failed to instill any real, actual comfort. Such would have to be their burden, however, and it wasn’t his fault they were in the thick of it like they were any more than it was theirs.

   Officer McIntyre took a puff of his cigarette, a vain effort at calming his nerves. It was intriguing the way one’s mind became attuned to certain situations.

   One murder, a grisly murder, but only one of them, that’s what he was told. Instead, what he got was a goddamned bloodbath.

   Davis smashed the remains of his cigarette butt beneath his foot. Thus far, survivors were far and in-between, but the body count continued to spike with each tent he discovered. He walked with intent; his hand prepared to withdraw the gun holstered at his waist at any moment. It was almost instinctual on his part after all the remains he’d since come across.

   It was funny in a sad sort of way, really. All his life, McIntyre was a native of Dylan, and never once had he gotten around to visiting the mountains. It was on his to-do list before he got too old, but after his wife Sharon’s suicide, he had been doing everything he could to keep himself busy.

   Another tent, and like the others, nothing pleasant was there to be discovered. It had been cut through cleanly by something sharp, not yanked or pried open. Davis winced at the dead bodies, a man and a woman. He had seen two dead bodies before in his life and was sure they’d haunt him for the remainder of his days. But, now, after all of this, they’d feel like nothing except for a footnote in his life. In their place would be memories of something much worse. That wasn’t exactly true, the Detective had to admit. He’d never forget finding his wife.

   Certain victims had been de-faced, a term that could be applied quite literally in this regard. Their faces had been sliced cleanly off, leaving nothing except for the ugly, undecipherable redness that was housed beneath it. The sight was one that didn’t exactly sit well with Officer McIntyre, but there wasn’t anything to do but keep looking and hope to stumble across one or two still breathing.

   The ritual seen was familiar in history, a fact that many detectives had already made some connections to. The first victim, for instance, brought back mentions of a scientist that Odeo Hassius, the former King of Hardan kept close. This was, of course, back in the days of Kings and Queens. The scientist was a fucking lunatic, and would mutilate bodies, posing them up like animals. The second connection, Officer McIntyre was able to find for himself. During the Great War, a war that most didn’t even believe existed, certain armies against King Hassius would kill in such a way as to send a warning to the infamous Hardan leader.

   McIntyre felt better, for some reason, when he tried to make connections to the past. It made it all seem distant, like what was happening was simply glimpses of photographs from an old history book. It also helped him to look at it analytically, and to not make it personal.

   It was a hollow reassurance, however. Not all of the bodies were torn up, but they were still dead, which was a weak victory in the face of a massacre. Worse still, Davis feared the differences in kills, a lot within the bulk, suggested that more than a few individuals were involved in the murders.

   Officer McIntyre traversed deeper up the mountains, following the path. There was no real way to tell how effective his searching would prove to be.

   Mt. Kass was robust and, as said, he very much stuck to the dirt path, a path with many forks in the road and alternative ways of making the ascension.

   Things hadn’t gone the way they were supposed to. His job was to help secure a crime scene, and now, he was at the heart of what would be remembered as a worldwide tragedy.

   A young woman ran out in front of him, entering the path unexpectedly from the underbrush to his left. Davis wasn’t ready for the sudden surprise, the sight of actual life. That initial fear made him instinctively withdraw his gun out from its holster and point it toward the woman. He relented quickly once he realized his own mistake.

   Officer McIntyre assisted the woman, who fell immediately into his arms once he reached her. Her whole body shook and trembled with fear. There was a spot on her white tank top that showed off a very visible blood stain.

   “Is anyone else with you?” He asked.

   The woman shook her head, looking up at him with a depleted expression. It was the same look he likely carried himself.

   “Everything is going to be alright; do you hear me?” McIntyre assured, perhaps trying to make up for the lack of security he was able to give to the kids at the cabin earlier.

   The girl nodded, although, Davis wasn’t fully certain whether she believed what he said. Judging by what he’d seen only so far, he was led to assume the latter of the two.

   “If we continue heading forward, we’ll arrive at the checkpoint, we do that, we’ll be able to radio someone. They have other guards stationed around and helicopters to try and evacuate the mountain.”

   The woman nodded her head tiredly in agreement, and then, before Davis even had the chance to ask her whether she could stand, she did so, climbing to her feet. “I want off this mountain as soon as possible.” She spoke with a shaky tone, which was to be expected given the situation.

   “What have you seen?” Officer McIntyre asked, and perhaps, that was the wrong way to go about asking such a question, and perhaps, even, too, he would end up not wanting to know the answer. Regardless, he asked it anyways and didn’t regret doing so.

   “I have seen soldiers. I’ve seen guys wearing heavy armor, no guns, none of that. They’re carrying shields and suits that make them like knights. They have long swords. They were all grouped together, walking with purpose. I saw them slash through tents and kill anyone they could. I don’t know where they are, but I know that we need to go from the path and hide.”

   Davis McIntyre sighed. This wasn’t a situation he’d be able to swoop in and play hero for, and he knew that. This was far too high stakes and serious. As stressed as he should have been, however, he was surprised how fast he was starting to become accustom to it all. They continued walking, he needed to help the young girl to the checkpoint, and would likely end up having to stay there for his own safety as well.

   “What’s your name, kid?” Davis asked, trying to calm her nerves as she reacted to every small gust of wind that even slightly shook the tree branches overhead.

   “Crystal.”

2 – Melissa

   Helpless and vulnerable were two phrases that accurately described how Melissa felt in her current predicament. She was helpless and vulnerable. College was seen as the next step of a person’s development into adulthood. But what really was adulthood at the end of the day? The ability to provide for ones’ self, to have independence, but, also, to shed away the silliness that came with youth. No more being afraid of the monsters under the bed, for instance. It was meant to instill a sense of control and security in a world that was neither secure nor controllable.

   Melissa looked around the room. It was filled with college kids. Their faces all carried the same look – the faces of paranoia and anxiety. And exhaustion, an attribute that couldn’t be forgotten, because, like the child afraid of the monster beneath the bed, all of them were scared of what roamed the mountain. What college and preparation brought them, at the end of the day, was a security blanket. When faced with something as substantial as this, that sense of security was poisoned, killed away, leaving skepticism and terror behind in its place.

   Officers came in and out from the room, every now and again, they brought someone with them, be it a student or a confused old couple that expected this to be an enjoyable, adventurous, and even romantic outing exploring the mountain. Thereafter, they were practically stampeding with questions about what was out there and what they had seen. Other times, the officers walked in simply to make sure everyone was in one piece, providing water bottles and whatever else they had on-hand, but never providing too much in the way of information regarding the next course of action, or, more importantly, when the helicopters would come to evacuate them off the mountain.

   They’d slept rough to say the least, but no one had slept rougher than the man that the officer had brought in, whose body shook and trembled while he wallowed in agony through the night. His wounds hadn’t looked fatal, but there was only so much Melissa could see. Could there have been internal trauma as well? The way he held his stomach, had he more wounds? She had seen no blood gusting out to suggest such a thing. It was just as likely or more so that the man was nauseous from the things he’d seen.

   Truth be told, Melissa could sympathize with such a mindset. And, worse yet, Melissa felt too afraid to ease her mind and look for more injuries on the man. She was too afraid of what might happen if she found something else. Like this was the start of a zombie epidemic and she was very much afraid of being bitten.

   The thought of her own cowardice made her ashamed, unwilling to risk herself for others made her feel guilty, and yet, the will to change that remained unfounded.

   She felt Shaun’s hand on her should and she nuzzled up to it, looking over at him with a weak, dreamy smile.

   “The helicopter should be here any minute, we will be able to get on the first one out of here, we’ve been here the longest. It’s like what the officer said, soon all of this will be nothing except for a bad dream.” Shaun reassured.

   His words felt so different than usual, in a way that Melissa couldn’t really articulate or distinguish, as if there was less life or heart behind them. Nevertheless, Melissa nodded her head in agreement.

   Nobody had really said anything much to one another after a certain point, except Melissa to Shaun, and vice versa, but even with them the restraints were clear.

   Rachel still whimpered every now and again but found herself unsteadily focused with intent on a hardback novel. Melissa was unable to place its name as Rachel had taken off the book’s jacket, so that it appeared as if she might a well have been reading a blank, nondescript book. Melissa doubted how much reading she’d actually be able to finish under these circumstances, but also suspected it wasn’t really about the book, but, instead, it was about having something to stare at and look busy so that nobody would bother her.

   Bryan hadn’t said very much, even less than usual, in-fact. Melissa hadn’t heard him let out as much as a whisper to K.J., who, herself, was also quiet. Nobody would ever mistake Bryan as talkative, in-general, but this was different. He seemed absent. K.J. rested her body against his. She sniffled every now and again, clearly upset and distraught, whereas, Bryan, on the other hand, showed no clear sign of being upset. Not to say he wasn’t, but, instead, Melissa suspected his coping would be conducted in a much less audible fashion.

   Melissa felt tormented by the memory of Chelsea and what had been done to her, and with it came even more uneasy discomfort, “I hope that Scott is alright. Hassan, too,” Melissa said.

3 – Crystal

   The officer introduced himself as Davis McIntyre, carrying himself with a stoic demeanor and speaking with a piercing inflection, gargled and rough from what appeared to be a long life of smoking heavily. Above all else, he seemed like a caring individual with control of the situation, or, at least, the ability to produce the illusion of such, which was sometimes enough. He didn’t seem like a man of very many words, which was understandable, given the situation, she supposed.

   His answers were short and straightforward. He was an officer assigned to look for survivors on Mt. Kass. It was still unclear exactly what the situation was that plagued the mountain. It could have been a cult, or it could have been a flat-out terrorist attack, either way, Officer McIntyre was very singular in his intentions – reach the nearest checkpoint and catch the first helicopter off the mountain.

   Crystal definitely agreed with the sentiment. The adrenaline still coursed through her veins, as did the sheer terror of not knowing what was happening. The soldiers definitely appeared like they were from a forgotten era, a fact too blatant to not be intentional. She felt terror when she thought back to hiding behind a tree while they marched in unison, their boots stamping down with purpose.

   “Are there other officers at the checkpoint?” Crystal asked. The words escaped her mouth faster than she’d intended, showing how scrambled her nerves were.

   Officer McIntyre didn’t say anything for a few seconds, as if he was lost in his own thoughts, “There are other officers searching the mountain, and there are volunteers.”

   Crystal took a large gulp out from her water bottle, the only lasting memento of supplies she actually had left, leaving her backpack behind when she heard screaming and could see everyone run away in a panic.

   “Not exactly the way I wanted to spend this field trip,” Crystal said, and then, immediately regretted it as the words left her mouth.

   It was a stupid and obvious statement, and one that most certainly didn’t need to be said. Unfortunately, it was said nevertheless, and was even capped off with a nervous laugh, laughing at a statement diluted of all humor. Perhaps it was because of her own desire for normalcy, yearning to force chitchat and small talk in a situation she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts with.

   Officer McIntyre seemed to understand that, on some level, but it didn’t make him into a conversationalist, he fought a weak smile and merely said, “Yeah,” in-response.

   As seconds turned to minutes, Crystal’s fast heart-beat lessened, and her sense of security started to return to her. Every time she chewed on a thought, every time she swished and swashed a memory in her mind, it brought her anxiety back to the forefront, but it didn’t have the same oomph behind it anymore. She heard the sound of loud machinery, and looked up to find its origins, a helicopter was over head, which in itself, brought her a sense of relief. That would be her way off from Mt. Kass. It would be her way to safety from a tragic event she knew she’d be hearing about and thinking about for years to come.

   Then, as if the mountain was not only synchronized with Crystal’s thoughts, but, also, actively against them, she heard a loud noise that sounded like a bazooka or a missile being shot off. Seconds after, she watched as a black ball came hurling at the helicopter, causing it to catch flame, and then, take a nose-dive into the mountain.

   Crystal came to a stop and Officer McIntyre did the same. The helicopter was soon lost in the trees, leaving only a trail of smoke leading down to where it landed. It could have been her eyes deceiving her, it could have been a trick of the mind, trauma distorting her memory, but her only guess was that it’d been a cannon or a catapult that had done the deed. Repeatedly, she tried to revisit the scene in her head to decide whether she’d heard a firing noise or not.

   “Fuck!” Officer McIntyre exclaimed. It was the first sign of actual fear he’d shown to Crystal so far.

   Galloping horses and deep-voiced men shouting their commands came thereafter, and, as the sound of the horse’s whinnying became more apparent, it, too, became apparent they were headed in their direction.

   Officer McIntyre tugged at Crystal’s shoulder, urging her to follow him away from the path, although the shock nearly petrified her, when he yanked on her arm, she found herself able to comply. Davis brought his handgun out from its holster. Crystal could see the sweat form on his brow, dripping down his face. They ran off and away from the path, but, as they did, they found themselves accompanied by others.

   Other tourists on the mountain, Crystal presumed, came running in their direction, their faces blood-red and terrified. They ran with neither strategy nor consideration, perfectly willing to bump into one another or cut someone off in-favor of their own safety. Desperation was a powerful motivator, Crystal supposed, and soon found herself running as well, trying her best to stay ahead of the crowd.

   One of the soldiers came to sight, sending a shiver up Crystal’s spine as he did, appearing beyond the trees, riding a horse. He unsheathed a sword and, without prejudice, started slashing at the air, making swipes with the goal of wounding anyone he could. Crystal watched him make an upward lunge, stabbing one of his fleeing victims in the back of the neck She was able to see the sword pierce through to the other side and watched while it left, and his lifeless body dropped to the ground.

   An instant later, she saw a flaming arrow fall to the ground and meet its mark, puncturing and igniting a woman. When Crystal looked to the sky, she saw more arrows were being freed into the air. She knew the next time she decided to look back, it would be to meet her death.

   The noise behind her was rampant and chaotic, with neighing horses stomping their hooves and battles cries and loud, agonizing screams. Crystal had no way of knowing if she was creating distance from the attackers or not. A gun went off, most likely belonging to Officer McIntyre, however, she didn’t look back to see. She kept running, breathing heavily, hyperventilating, even, an act she only just now noticed she was doing. She diverted away from the set path, the weeds and tall grass soon became unruly, her eyes focused on the ground, desperate to keep herself from tripping or falling down.

   Soon, the terrain shifted and became drastically unkempt, with ditches fill with mud and filthy water, the trees sprouted out at peculiar angles, a part of the mountain not often dared by humans, she presumed. Her running came to a sudden halt, following down into a narrow trench, the lower half of her body became entrenched in the mud.

   She dropped to one knee, but soon returned back to a vertical position. She didn’t continue to run, if only because she wasn’t for certain she could. She tried to regulate her breathing, feeling the dampness on her pant-legs, but kept moving at a slower pace. At the very least, it was a certainty that no horse would be able to follow her any further.

   It was quieter now. Her surroundings carried a settled stillness, with nothing to hear except nature’s wind and animal life. What would she do next, Crystal wondered, unable to find a definitive answer to her own question.

   This part of the mountain seemed deserted enough. Would it have been in her best interest to find somewhere obscured enough from view to wait it out til everything was taken care of? It’d be a maddening wait, for certain, but surely the cavalry would arrive and sort the mess. It wouldn’t take very long for law enforcement to have things under control and start searching for survivors. Then again, Officer McIntyre had been sent after law enforcement thought they had it under control. What if they underestimated the threat again? Then, what? Would it take days?

   There would be no way to put her mind at ease until she was off the mountain. She had to continue looking for a way to freedom.

   Crystal brushed some loose hairs out from in-front of her eyes, ones stuck to her face from the sweat. It was an odd contrast, how cold her legs felt from the mud and how warm her chest felt from the panic. There was a small cliff. It was about six- or seven-feet tall overhead. In-front of her, she was left to either find a way over it or turn back around. She chose the former, taking advantage of a small tree that had only halfway uprooted from the dirt and leaned over the cliff. She did her best impression of someone walking a tight-rope, when, in-fact, it was a tree with plenty of girth and room to spare. Her hands were spread out on opposing sides as she walked up it.

   “Rah!” The loud, ugly grunt shot shivers up Crystal’s spine, making her flinch so harshly she tripped over her feet, falling down from the tree and onto the dirt. Her side withstood a bulk of the impact.

   The pain was sharp, but she ignored it, forcing herself to her knees, and making eye-contact with the man, a “soldier”, visually speaking, dressed in onyx-colored armor, a distinctive white letter “K” was marked onto his chest plate. He wielded a sword with a curved blade at the end and pointed it at her.

   Crystal let out a noise that was a cross between a yelp and a scream. She climbed to her feet, ignoring her throbbing hip and walked back up the tree, hoping she could reach the cliff’s summit before he reached her. Seconds later, she heard a gun go off, and turned, seeing the soldier fall down into the trench, taken off his feet by a bullet to the back of the head. Officer Davis McIntyre walked forward. His arm was bleeding, and his stained sleeve was hanging on only by a thread.

   “Are you okay?” The Officer asked, taking a little time to either appreciate his own handiwork or rejoice in his own survival.

   “I think so,” Crystal replied, slowly hopping off from the tree, feeling a sharp twinge of pain in her back as a result.

   “They would have heard my gunshot, so we can’t stay here,” Officer McIntyre began, until having his feet brought out from underneath him. It was the soldier, alive, apparently, tackling his legs from behind.

   Officer McIntyre squirmed free the best he could, driving his boot into the soldier’s skull, however, the soldier was relentless in his pursuits. It wasn’t clear what the soldier’s intents were, whether it was to subdue the officer long enough to dig his sword out from the mud, or to kill him with his bare hands, but Crystal wasn’t interested in finding out. Instead, she found the largest rock she could carry and lugged it to the ongoing scrap. Her winced some as she did, but, despite that, she fought past the pain and lifted it as high as she could, bringing it down directly on the soldier’s head. The soldier dropped, dormant on Officer McIntyre’s chest, his head had nearly severed itself from his body.

   Officer McIntyre shoved the soldier off of him, climbing back to his feet and readying his handgun, just in case the soldier decided to defy the rules of death a second time.

   Instead, moments after, the soldier fell to ashes, producing a sound that resembled water evaporating in a frying pan, leaving nothing but his crematory remains.

   Although Crystal was thankful for the soldier’s demise, hopeful that no more of the soldiers would come by to investigate the gunshot, she would have preferred him simply to have lied dead.

   The way he continued his attack after the gunshot to the back and the way he fell to dust told Officer McIntyre and Crystal both the same fact.

   “They’re not human,” Crystal said, looking back in fear more would show up.