Wordmongers' Masque
Lost Angels.
I remember Los Angeles. High buildings. Crowded streets. Taxi cabs. And the people. Millions of people. The number alone is unthinkable.
It was beautiful.
Now only memory tells me that this is Los Angeles. Gone is the recognizable cityscape and the press of humanity. Everything is in ruins. As far as the eye can see in every direction are the remains of a once great city. And death. Death so thick that it is sensed before seen or smelt.
"Suthers, why are we here?" Calvin's voice is a whisper so soft that it barely makes it to my ears. Which is exactly the thought I need right now. Standing on one of the highest remaining buildings makes us an easy target. And it's not just the Krags we have to worry about.
"Okay. We'll go down." I whisper back. After a swig of water I toss the bottle back to Calvin.
"No man. I don't mean right here. I mean why'd we risk coming to the city? This is insane. There's a reason the cities are in ruins. That's how the Krags want them." He was right. People who went to the cities didn't often come back. The best way to survive was to keep moving. And in small groups.
But he was wrong too. Sure, the two of us could survive if we were careful. If we kept away from the old cities. If we hid at the first signal of danger. But the two of us hardly meant the survival of humankind. That had to be the ultimate goal. That had to be our driving purpose. Otherwise all the Krags had won.
"You tru-" I cut myself off. The silence below is disturbed by a scream. I look down towards the streets and spot someone running through the rubble. My first guess is someone running from Krags. It always is.
Already I'm turned around and headed down the stairs. I can hear Calvin groan as he sees my movements, but he'll follow. He was in New York when the first attacks happened. He saw the worst of the worst in people. Lost his entire family, not because of the Krags, but because of the violence of others.
"I'll wait for them to come near here and then try to distract them, maybe draw them away. Loop around, bring them straight to your waiting arms." It's my job to play the rabbit.
Calvin nods his head and drops his bag near the door. Just beyond the door I spot our runner. He is small and pale-skinned. And he looks slim, but we all do these days. He's out of sight before I have a chance to gleam much more.
I sprint out after him, chancing a glance backwards to see his pursuers. Krags with hovercycles. I allow myself a moment to give a sigh of relief. It's one thing to kill Krags. They've attacked and destroyed without mercy. They want to eliminate us. Killing actual people, though, still gives me nightmares. We're all just trying to eke out a living. The need to survive has made monsters of some. That doesn't make killing them easy.
It's been a few minutes of hard running and the Krags are gaining faster than we can run.
Ahead of me, the runner's foot snags on rubble. As he falls forward his leg stays in place. Even from this distance I can tell that it's a break.
"Oh hell."
There goes the rabbit plan.
As I get closer to him, I realize that this runner is hardly even a teenager.
"Help me. Please." His voice is strained, but not weak. Some courage in the kid. Good. He'll need it.
I nod my head at him and offer a thin smile. And then run into a doorway right next to him. He'll have to be bait. And I'll have to be quick.
Ten seconds. Maybe fifteen. The loaded gun at my hip moves to my hand. I'll get the first shot and if that doesn't count then we're both in trouble. I take a deep breath and lean out the door.
Every time I look at a Krag I get a feeling of terror deep in my bones. Something instinctual that tells me that they're dangerous. With their barbed tails and horns, they are the spitting image of every story I heard about the devil.
The hovercycle slows to a halt in front of the kid. Before one of them can get off, I unload two shots. One at the driver's head. Another directly behind it. The first dissolved in the energy field around the cycle. The other made it through in the brief opening made by the first.
The 'cycle spirals as the Krag's head literally melts. Explosive rounds filled with garlic powder. Somewhat fitting that the devil is allergic to garlic.
I wait until the second Krag has control of the vehicle, before taking two more shots. This time into the fuel tank. The hovercycle explodes in a brilliant white flash and hits the ground. My pistol finds its way back into the holster and I kneel down to the boy. He smiles weakly as I wrap his arm around my shoulder.
"Are you an angel?" He sounds hopeful. I almost wish I could say yes.
"No. I am just a man." I speak softly as I begin to examine his leg.
"You could not be. No man can defeat the devil. You... you are one of the lost angels?" his voice wavers slightly, "Yes. It must be. Thank the Protector."
I nod my head, not in agreement, but in understanding. People no longer believed that there was a god watching over us. Most think he sent his angels to protect us but they never made it. Hence, lost angels.
"Don't count on help from above, kid. All we've got is each other."
Evil comes to all us men of imagination wearing as its mask all the virtues.
William Butler Yeats