Banished To Earth Book Two, A Dragon King? (39)

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 Banished To Earth, A Dragon King?

Chapter 67

     Several days before Davin escaped from Chase and reunited with Pry, Chase and Mabel stepped out of a shift portal onto the beach directly in front of the beach house.

    Chase, standing near his mother, pistol drawn, nostrils flared, scanned the area. “They should have kept you on the ship.”

   “Hush, they might be listening,” said Mabel, dressed in a black shirt, duster, pants and boots. They, her son, her pistol, gear and the Urgis’ scant training was her only hope of survival. Her being unchanged.

    She lifted her face to the sun. A warm breeze whipped her hair back as she twisted her boots in the sand, literally marking her territory, and looked over at the beach house she might have inherited had her brother not been so stupid and ungrateful; at least that's how she still saw it.

    “Well, I finally got it.” She said. A smile swept across her face as she admired the simple seaside dwelling. The ocean waves crashed, roaring and hissing behind her.

     Not sensing any immediate danger, Chase slumped and turned to her. “A cruddy outdated bungalow is all you care about? Ma, the world is ours; everybody and everything in it belongs to us. Think big, really big.” 

    “Don’t scold your mother. Let me have my moment.” Stepping back, she looked out over the surf, sucked in the salty air, and let the hot sun bake her face. She started to remove her duster.

   “Don’t. I’m sure it’s hot and heavy, but if other Hunters show up and start shooting, it will save your life.” He glared at her without realizing it.

  “Don’t you roll your eyes at me. They wanted me here. Their will be done.”

   “Their will be done.’ Really? Oh, brother.”

   “They resurrected me, boy; don’t you get it? They are God.”

   He looked away, hiding his disgust. “This would be so much easier if you were safe, off world.”

   “You mean if I were not with you? Well, I am where I want to be. With you. Besides, they know what’s best. They have their reasons. I trust them.”

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   “I don’t. Come on, we need to find this shape-shifting abomination before he turns the whole planet into a pile of alien crap. This is my world.” He glanced over at Mabel. “Our world. I’m not going to let him mess it up!”

    He jerked his head west and stooped. Trying to penetrate the distance, his eyes narrowed and focused but failed to see anything through the haze of sea spray and blowing sand. But it was there, closing in.

      Something had just entered Chase’s scanning range; a dozen grey crosses slid across the sand towards them, heading east, straight at them.

    Chase’s eyes narrowed. Mabel hunched behind him.

   “You want your beach house? Well, go. Take it. Now!”

    Her smile vanished. She looked west, saw nothing, but ran, anyway.

        A dozen winged dots finally swelled into view, broke formation and dispersed in every direction. A few dived straight into the ocean. A few more veered off north, sank and disappeared behind the far-off dunes and houses. The rest swooped toward the sun, disappearing in its glare.

    Believing she was safely situated in the beach house, Mable peeked out from behind the sliding doors’ closed curtains.  At first she saw nothing, then large shadows suddenly painted the deck grey; a moment later three seagulls the size of vultures fluttered down on the railing.

    Mabel blinked, not trusting her eyes. They were facing the sea, on more legs than any bird should have, each having four instead of two.    

     A low groan worked its way up from deep inside her. They cocked their heads sideways, hopped around and stared straight into her face.

    She screamed as six perfectly human eyes bore into her soul. Stumbling back, she fell. And knocked Davin’s TV screen off the table, just before three pink puffs of bloody feathers exploded on the railing.

    Chase popped out of a portal and leapt onto the deck just as three more birds shot up from the sea and dive-bombed the deck. He leaned back, picked each one off with three impossibly quick and perfectly aimed energy blasts. 

   He was just about to whip open another portal and rescue Mabel when the deck began to shimmy and shake. A moment of stillness, then it exploded and hurled him forty feet into the air, knocking his pistol from his hand and flinging it to who knows where.

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    Falling headlong, he tried to whip open another portal. But something huge whipped out of the waves, lashed out and slapped him high into the air. Stunned and helpless, he sailed over the house and face planted onto the stretch of blacktop called Salter Path.

    His head slammed against the asphalt like a sack of cement, knocking him senseless but only for a few moments. His ears ringing, his head throbbing but not seriously injured, he rolled to his feet and shifted back to the beach.

    Whatever obliterated the deck did not spare the house. Pieces of it were strewn across the dunes and beach, right along with his Mother.

 

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    “Chase,” she whimpered, pinned to a dune by a broken sheet of plywood. Her shattered right arm dangled over her face. The skin of her left cheek was rolled back, exposing her bloody raw meat.  “Help me.”  Her voice was barely audible over the roar of the crashing waves.

   He ran to her and yanked at the shattered wood. She shrieked as a huge splinter tore through her broken ribs.  “Can’t shift you. Can’t free you. Can’t even see your pistol. This is bad.” He sputtered. And I lost mine. This is so bad,” He said, dropping to his knees in front of her.

     The house was gone. A deep crater lay in its place. The ground shook, then quivered as if alive.

    Something moved beneath them, vibrating against their bodies. The earth settled, then the vibration shifted away toward the crater. A moment of peace, then sand blew up and showered over them.

    Chase shielded his face. Shaking his eyes clear, he looked up. His eyes swelled with disbelief. A sand crab the size of a semi -truck wobbled up on human legs, as its’ backhoe-like claw snapped at them. He punched it away; it snapped back. He ducked and rolled toward the surf, drawing it away from his Mother. A thirty-foot tentacle lashed up and slammed down. Rolling to his feet, he yelled at the crab and leapt straight up to dodge a giant squid’s razor-sharp suckers, which had dragged its way onto the beach. He didn’t know squid could do such a thing. This one could, because four of his ‘tentacles’ were massive human arms replete with human hands.

   The squid's tentacles flailed and lashed; he ducked, weaved, somersaulted and landed back in front of his mother, desperate to see if she was still alive. Her blood had turned the sand into a red apron. But she was still conscious, still pleading.

   How long could he dodge these monsters? They were not giving up, and they were not just monsters either. They were Stayner

    Tearing his attention away from his mother, he managed to get a good look at the beasts. Human eyeballs wobbled and swayed on the giant crab's eye stalks. They, like the squid’s nightmarish eyes, were bright with intelligence and narrow with hate and relentless will.

    In that moment he realized he was going to die there with his mother and forfeit everything, no Earth, no slaves, no worshipers groveling at his feet, nothing but death and rot.

 

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  She whimpered up at him. He could not make out any words. But could clearly hear her fear, her desperation.

    “You should have stayed on the ship.” He shouted at her. Not another word slipped past his lips. Turning away, he whipped open a portal and shifted away a split second before a giant claw ploughed through his mother.

    Much to his shock, he stepped out of his portal and back on the ship, the great dining hall to be exact. There was no curved table, no breakfast buffet, only the thrones and the Urgis casually seated and smiling down at him.

   “She’s dead.” He wanted to yell but knew better,

  “Yes. You sent her to the house. You left her alone, unprotected. You saved yourself. You did well.”

  “What?”

   “You did what you did because you are what we made. Self-preservation is the only virtue. Be what we made. Be what we made long before we implanted you into her. Be what you did. That is all we require. That is all you are, all you have ever been, all you will ever be, all we will ever need of you.” Fev’s right index finger flicked out, and Chase was suddenly standing in a field of wildflowers. His pistol was in his hand. His face was wet with tears. His heart was black with hate for everything and everyone but most especially himself. He was, after all. Them.