Age of Blood

58

Yank saw it all happen, including the moment when Laws dropped Holmes from the pipe. The way the team leader fell, he had to be dead. Yank was at once sad and angry. He didn’t even remember drawing the knife in his other hand. He didn’t know what he was going to do with it, but he had it ready nonetheless. Then the obsidian butterfly—God what a crazy misnomer—took to the air and flew toward the pipe to investigate. Butterflies were supposed to be something little children played with. This hellish creature looked like it ate children. Its movements weren’t quick but languid, its great wings catching the air and pulling it free from the Earth’s gravity.

Then Laws did something completely unexpected. He leaped from the relative safety of his perch and embraced the butterfly in midair. And Laws looked horrible. All he had on were UDT shorts, Vibram toe shoes, and blood. He grabbed the obsidian butterfly around its neck. The butterfly brought up birdlike feet and tried to claw him away, but Laws twisted around until his legs were wrapped around the creature’s midsection.

The butterfly madly beat its wings, buffeting Laws in the face with nothing more than wind.

Laws brought the pistol up and fired point-blank into the creature’s mouth.

All that happened was the butterfly fell a few feet, then caught itself.

Laws almost lost his grip. He had to let his pistol fall or else join it in a similar fate.

But it was clear that the butterfly couldn’t carry both of them. It was inexorably sinking toward the earth, the extra weight pulling it down.

All the while, Walker had been systematically taking out those Zetas arrayed around the pyramid, as well as the men in robes. They’d almost ceased firing back in favor of trying to find places to hide. Several had stacked up the bodies of the dead to form a barrier. Then came an explosive round that tore a head-sized hole through the meat, bone, and muscle of a dead Zeta middleman, revealing more of the same, huddling behind the body.

On the very top stood two of the leper sorcerers, along with Ramon and the senator. They were protected by some sort of force field.

Now that he had the lay of the land, it was time to move to help Laws. While no one was watching him, Yank launched himself, running as fast as he could with his rib biting into his body with every jolting step. He was right there as the obsidian butterfly fell heavily to the earth, its legs buckling beneath it.

Yank took a wide stance, took aim at the creature’s back, and fired. Five parabellum rounds hit and ricocheted off. He fired three at the Damascus-curved wings and the same thing happened. Fuck! How was he going to make the creature stop?

It twirled drunkenly. Laws was refusing to let go, his weight keeping it off-balance.

Yank almost laughed at the image of Laws hanging on to the monster’s chest like a baby in a harness. But the evil reality of the obsidian butterfly stilled any hilarity. It glared at him with white glowing eyes. Yank felt the gaze like a weight and wanted to run, jump away, do anything to be free from it. But he forced himself to hold fast.

Beneath the eyes was a proboscis. Even as he watched, a spiked tongue unrolled and found the back of Laws’s neck. The tongue rose as if it were its own creature, then dove, its spiked end embedding itself into Laws. The SEAL in turn flung out both of his arms, releasing the creature. Laws fell to his knees. His head tilted forward and rested against the abdomen of the creature as it sucked greedily from his spine.

Yank pulled a colored smoke grenade and tossed it toward the creature. Then he opened fire, aiming for the tongue. By some miracle he hit it. The obsidian butterfly screamed, pushed aside Laws, who still had a piece of tongue undulating from his neck like a giant leech, and stormed toward Yank.

The SEAL emptied his pistol, then turned and fled. He felt rather than heard the beating of its wings as it flung itself into the air after him. He threw himself to the earth and turned over. The creature passed above him, and as it did, a wing came down, the edge slicing his shoulder and leaving an inch-deep furrow.

As the creature landed a few feet away, Yank rolled to his feet and ran into the now billowing smoke. He loaded his 9mm as he ran, then skidded to a stop. He turned just in time to get the butterfly’s taloned feet in the chest. Instead of knocking him over, it grabbed him and pulled him up into the air.

The words OH MY GOD became the only ones he knew as he rose and rose toward the ceiling. He had no doubt that the creature would let him go, so he did the only thing he could think of. He shoved his pistol into his armor and grabbed one of its legs with his left hand. It felt like a chicken foot, only a hundred times the size. With his right hand, he reached down and pulled free his belt. He wrapped it several times around the leg, and made a simple knot.

Then he had an idea.

In the universe of ideas there are good ideas, bad ideas, insane ideas, wondrous ideas, ideas that can change the way people do things and think, and ideas that fall flat, their potential forever unknown. This was none of those. This was the singular sort of idea known as an IF YOU DO THIS YOU WILL FUCKING DIE, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? idea.

Yank pulled an M67 fragmentation grenade from his pouch. He glanced below him and saw that he was now about a hundred feet in the air. He wedged the grenade into the belt, then tugged a length of 550 cord from his cargo pocket and tied it around the bottom of the butterfly’s foot. Finally, he wrapped it several times around his right hand. As he reached up to pull the pin on the grenade, he felt the bird let him go. But he was still holding on. So with a moment to spare, he pulled the pin, then dropped.

The ground began to rush up to meet him. He reached the end if the cord and held on as it tightened; then his shoulder jerked free from its socket. He screamed, but the sound was obliterated by the grenade’s explosion. A wave of pressure shoved him to the cavern floor and all breath left him. Pain blossomed into a nuclear firestorm, and then all went black.

…someone was screaming.

Blackness.

…he recognized his own voice.

Blackness.

…he staggered to his feet.

Blackness.

…his back was afire with pain.

Blackness.

…the obsidian butterfly crashed to the cavern floor.

Blackness.

…someone was rifling through his vest. They pulled something free. Laws fell on top of him. Then came another explosion. Then more blackness.