It was Friday, and the team was short-staffed. One of the other teams working farther south was falling behind, and since Amir’s team was so far ahead, Philman decided to send Aubrey, John, Joey, and Gary with them. They still took both cars, as they needed the equipment, but they were significantly less crowded than the rest of the week. The time was nearing 2:30, and Amir called everyone together.
“If I may have your attention. I would like to propose something I believe everyone will enjoy. Studies show that Friday is the least productive day of the week, and I am sure we have met our quota for the week, not to mention our current lack of staff, so I would like for us to take the rest of the day off.”
Everyone got excited and started murmuring to each other, talking about what they planned on doing with the extra two and a half hours. Amir put his hand up to get them to stop, and they did.
“But company policy states that we cannot leave the equipment unattended until five passes, so somebody will have to stay behind. They will be paid for their time and will essentially have to just keep guard until then. If there are no volunteers, we can draw straws, or we can all stay behind if you feel this would be unfair.”
The murmuring began again, this time more nervous than excited. They were all deliberating with each other when Derrek raised his hand.
“I’ll volunteer to stay back.”
Everyone looked at him in shock and awe. Then they all erupted into thanks and slaps on the back.
“Very good,” said Amir. “Let us get everything locked down, and we will leave you to your alone time with nature.”
Derrek smiled and nodded, then joined everyone who was already working hard to wrap everything up. After the GENRAM was shut down, everyone worked together to move it into the Conex, keeping it safe for the weekend. They got all of their materials in order and everyone aside from Derrek loaded into one of the cars, leaving the other for Derrek to have a ride back to the hotel.
Before leaving, Amir told him that the directions back were already programmed into the GPS, and handed him a fifty-euro note, winking and thanking him for staying behind. He waved as they drove off and immediately went to the cooler, grabbing a bottle of water for himself, happy to find there were sandwiches left, since almost half the team was elsewhere.
He decided the best use of his time was to take inventory, and so he did—three times. He grew bored quickly but remained upbeat and did his best to entertain himself while still trying to be productive. He started to take some plant samples before thinking that sitting for the whole weekend may have an adverse effect on the DNA, so he ultimately decided against it.
Boredom began to truly set in around 3:30, but then he remembered he had downloaded a podcast about genetics on his phone. He intended to study up on it as well as botany, entomology, and information technology over the weekend in hopes of being better equipped for the work ahead.
He put in his headphones and decided to clean his sidearm. Jeffrey had taught him the proper technique along with their training and gave him a set of tools to work with. He laid out a plain cloth and began disassembling his handgun. He hadn’t taken it out of its holster since getting his certification, and he was glad of that.
Time passed as he cleaned and oiled the gun, listening to three people share their knowledge on genetics, laughing at their own jokes, telling a lot of stories from their college days. The podcast wrapped up around the same time he finished reassembling the gun, but he hadn’t downloaded another episode, so he wrapped up his headphones and put his phone away.
He only had another forty-five minutes before he could leave, and he thought he might have a fourth go at inventory. Before he got to the Conex, however, he thought he heard a distant rumbling. He went to the edge of the clearing, facing the seemingly endless woods, listening to the sound. He could tell it was getting louder, or possibly closer.
He drew his sidearm, having no idea of what it could be. His palms began to sweat, and he started breathing heavily. Adrenaline filled his veins, and he stared into the unknown, ready to fight for his life, despite not even being sure it was in danger.
The noise had grown from a low rumble to what sounded like a roaring stampede. He was about to start firing blindly, hoping to hit whatever was heading toward him, when the forest suddenly went deathly quiet. He looked around and listened intently for a full minute and heard nothing, concluding that whatever it was, it had gone around him. He holstered his handgun and started walking back to the car to get another water.
Halfway back, he heard some movement from behind him, prompting him to turn around. He saw a deep-red vaguely human shape streak past him and did his best to keep his eyes on it. The shape stopped close to the other end of the clearing, looking behind it at Derrek.
“Ohshitduck!” it yelled out at him in a booming, commanding voice.
Derrek tried to turn around to see what it was yelling about and suddenly felt as if his entire skull had caved in. He felt every nerve send every pain signal it could, and his perspective suddenly shifted an entire ninety degrees to his right, making the world look sideways to him. He felt himself hit the ground with his still-skewed perspective, then felt nothing.
Over Derrek’s body, which was twisted beyond survival, with half his spine pulled out of place along with his head, somehow not breaking the skin, each vertebra pressing against it, making clear outlines of every bump, stood two figures. The first was a man in a red coat that hung down to his shins, leaning over to check his pulse before realizing he might have more luck checking his wrist. The other figure towered over him, around ten feet tall, wearing a black cloak that seemed to be emitting black smoke out of every opening. The man in red let go of Derrek’s arm, which slumped onto the ground with a dull thud.
“Well, bud, you really screwed the pooch this time,” the man in red said.
“Me? This is all on you!” the towering figure replied in a deep, ghastly tone.
“Hey, I’m not the one who broke the most basic of rules.”
“It is not my fault that you’ve been cheating me for thirty years!”
“And it’s not my fault that you never provided the coin for the flip. Besides, I know damn well you can’t collect, even if I did lose.”
“Quiet!” the figure yelled, apparently intimidating the entire forest into a state of silence. They heard Derrek grunt as if he were dreaming. The two figures stepped back and watched as the body’s limbs straightened and began to move to get the body standing again, despite a complete lack of central structure. He rose slowly, slumped over backward, defying gravity and coming to his feet. His torso straightened out despite his spine being in his neck and his eyes opened, the right eye, as always, was a dark brown, but the left was a bright, glowing green.
The two figures stood in silence and watched as he rose to his feet, the green eye moving independently and switching between both of them rapidly.
The man in red nudged the towering dark figure. “See, Boyd? You done goofed for real this time.”
“By the eternals, Grim is going to have my ass over this,” Boyd said, looking up into the air in confusion.
“It’s your own fault man, I mean—”
“Did you just make the narrator call me Boyd?”
“Shut up, Boyd. You’ve got bigger problems than your name. How hard did you hit him?”
“Hard enough to kill you.”
“All right. Real bad day for you then,” the man in red said. Then, cupping his hands to amplify his voice toward Derrek, he added, “Hey! Deadhead! You all right?”
Derrek turned his body toward the man, then put his right hand to his head, which was still skewed. With one swift motion, he pushed his spine back into place, sounding like a thousand joints popping at once, causing both the man and Boyd to cringe visibly despite the black cloak. He was suddenly back to his normal self; his eye remained green but had stopped glowing and he started rubbing his neck, as to him, it hurt slightly. He looked up to see the two standing across from him and jumped back in surprise, stumbling backward and falling on the ground, crawling backward away from them.
The man in red tried to follow him and called out as he went, “Kid, that was honestly metal as hell, and I know all this crazy shit you’re seeing is all way too new and way too weird to accept all at once. I mean, look at this crazy tall dude behind me. Dude looks like a goth circus tent. You may be afraid of him, but right now, you and I can kick his ass if we work together.” He was standing over Derrek now, offering his hand, and with a warm smile, he said, “I just need you to trust me.”
Derrek looked up at the man. He couldn’t tell how he knew, but he could tell he was telling the truth. Looking at Boyd, he saw he was taken aback by what the man in red said and was readying himself for battle. Without another thought, he grabbed the man by the wrist and was pulled to his feet.
“Ha-ha! Now things are gonna get interesting!” the man yelled, turning to face Boyd and then asking Derrek, “You know how to fight?”
“I got into a few scraps when I was a kid, but none in the past fifteen years. I’ve got a gun, though,” Derrek said, drawing his weapon.
“Oh, you’re American. I just took a shot in the dark with that English, and unless you got some real specific runes carved on your bullets, that’ll just piss him off. Do use it, though. Might buy you a few precious seconds to do what you gotta.”
“Then I might not be of any use,” Derrek said, remarkably calm. “If a gun won’t stop him, what am I going to be able to do?”
The man chuckled. “You don’t know it yet, but your punches are about to be stronger than just about any gun.”
Derrek was about to protest, but the man shushed him and pointed to Boyd, who was now opening his robe. As the cloth moved away, his emaciated form was revealed. He had very little flesh, looking more like a skeleton than a man. He was holding a scythe as tall as he was, ready to attack at any moment.
He stared in awe as this creature, which completely challenged everything Derrek thought about the world, slowly stepped toward him. How his heart wasn’t pounding out of his chest was beyond him, but he felt more aware than usual. He could see every falling leaf, every passing ant. He could even feel the exact direction of the wind, all of which he chalked up to adrenaline.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He broke his gaze when he saw the red man move, and when he looked at him, he saw he had a sword in each hand. His left held what looked like an ordinary katana, albeit with a serrated back to the blade. The sword in his right hand, however, was made of black metal, double-edged, and seemed taller than Derrek was from tip to pommel, almost a foot wide and at least three inches thick down the center, with two semicircle outcroppings halfway along the blade next to each other on both sides, forming spikes as long as spearheads jutting out beyond the width of the blade. Along the blade he saw seemingly endless carvings, some of which hurt to focus on. He got the feeling there was no earthly way anyone could hold something like it, let alone use it in a fight.
“Take this. You’re gonna need it,” the man said, handing the katana to Derrek. He was reluctant at first, but something told him it was the right thing to do, so he took the sword, holding it at the ready with both hands. He had never held a sword before, aside from a few fencing lessons he took with Shale when his usual partner broke his leg, but he felt right holding it.
The man in red grinned. “Follow my lead, trust your body, and for the love of whatever god you might worship, don’t … get … hit.”
Derrek nodded and narrowed his gaze onto Boyd, who had taken another few steps toward him, covering a lot of ground due to his gait. The man in red got into a crouching stance, holding his sword high, effortlessly rotating it like a slow propeller. Boyd stopped in his tracks, and the three of them stood in tense silence, each side waiting for the other to strike first. A stray leaf floated into the middle of the clearing, and all their eyes fixated on it as it slowly floated down, swaying back and forth as it drifted to the ground.
Just before it landed, the man in red yelled, “Now!” and sprang into action, lunging forward, almost floating above the grass, never taking a step until he was just in front of Boyd. When he jumped up to eye level with him, he brought down his sword in a one-handed downward strike, giving him only a split second to deflect it with his scythe. The man stayed in the air for several seconds, slicing and slashing in a blinding flurry of strikes with a single hand, which Boyd struggled to defend against, causing him to fall back as the man landed gracefully on the ground, propping his sword on his shoulder, clearly taunting him.
Derrek realized he should do something, as standing there watching might be even worse for his health. He took a deep breath and thought of what Jeffrey would have said.
“Come on, Derrek. You have one job right now! Keep the GENRAM safe. That skeleton is a major threat to not only that but the whole damn forest! Now, get your ass in gear and go mess up that freak’s life!”
Jeffrey’s voice rang in his ears as he started running into battle, caught off guard by his own speed; after only a couple of seconds, he had already almost caught up with the man! He moved ahead, passing him and slashing at Boyd, catching him off guard and tearing off a large portion of his cloak. Boyd retreated even further back, clearly cautious of the situation he was in.
His cloak was in tatters and would serve only to hinder his movement, so he tore it away, exposing his skeletal face. Glowing green lights floated in place of his eyes in empty sockets, he wore a permanent rotting smile, and his armor looked old and worn. He went in an instant from an enigma to an imposing threat, worrying Derrek and making the man in red smile even wider.
Black smoke poured out of Boyd’s mouth as he yelled, his words matching with the jaw movements, “Damn it! Why the hell is this happening now? I should be gone by now, or Grim should have at least sent support! Where is everyone?”
“If I were a betting man, I’d say someone caught wind of your little scheme a looooong while back and is letting you pay for it. Although, odds are you’re just having an off day,” the man said, stabbing his sword into the ground and letting it stand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin, which he began to flip absentmindedly, infuriating Boyd and causing his eyes to glow more intensely.
The man flipped the coin high as Boyd charged at him, scythe raised, screaming at the top of his lungs, assuming he had them. Just before he made contact, the man leaned back entirely at his knees, completely avoiding the attack. He stood back up straight and caught the coin, which he slapped onto his opposite wrist, covering it with his hand as Boyd turned around, eyes glowing even brighter.
“Hey, kid, call it,” he said to Derrek nonchalantly.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, man. Heads or tails?”
Derrek looked back and forth between him and Boyd, who also seemed baffled at the casual way this man was handling the situation. He threw his empty hand up in a whatever gesture and said, “Heads, I guess.”
The man uncovered the coin to show it had landed on heads, which made him say, “Nice one! Have at it.”
“What?”
“You won, it’s your go,” he said, leaning against his sword and crossing his arms.
Derrek was baffled, but a part of him said to do as he said and have at it. He lunged at Boyd who was holding his ground and began slicing wildly, occasionally firing his pistol to throw him off much faster than he could have ever imagined. Boyd struck back, but he was able to dodge the blows almost unconsciously, deflecting several attacks and leaning completely into some, giving him the chance to catch the towering man off guard. He thrust his sword into Boyd’s leg, catching the serrated edge between his tibia and fibula and pulling back, completely shattering both bones, causing him to collapse under his own weight.
He never knew he could do anything like this, but he felt powerful, as if he were playing a video game. His reflexes were beyond anything he had seen from anyone, and he had never experienced even an ounce of the strength he felt at that moment. He felt like he could take on the world if he wanted to.
Boyd screamed in agony to the surprise of both Derrek and the man in red, who were under the impression he didn’t have nerves, let alone could feel pain. He tried to prop himself up with his scythe but was completely unable to do so and ended up falling again. He tried once more, but before he could maintain his balance, something came over Derrek and he did the same to Boyd’s other leg, causing him to collapse.
Boyd seemed to be breathing heavily, clearly in intense pain, his scythe just out of reach as he tried to grab it to no avail. The man in red winced as Boyd’s bones shattered, and he held back laughter as he tried to fight back in vain, eventually giving up, lying on the ground, conserving what little strength he had left. Black smoke poured out from his broken bones where marrow would have been, and his breathing began to steady.
“Damn … you …” he struggled to say, staring at the man in red. “You … should have … lost …”
“Bud, you never had a chance. I mean, look how things turned out. The hands of fate are clearly not in your favor.”
“Go … to hell.”
“Sure, I’ll meet you there,” he said. Then, looking at Derrek, he said, “All right, he’s had enough. You can back off now.”
But Derrek didn’t hear him and clearly wasn’t listening. He stuck his sword into the ground, walked around Boyd’s body, and was now standing between him and the man in red, looking down at his skeletal face, not saying a word. He crouched down and put his hands at the sides of Boyd’s skull and stared into his eye sockets.
The man in red was confused and called out, “Hey, what’re you doing? The fight’s over. We won.” But Derrek continued to ignore him.
Boyd began to panic, trying to fight back, but was completely unable even to lift his arms. The space around the two began to glow the same shade of green his eye had been earlier, completely blinding the man, who couldn’t see what happened next. He felt his existence unravel. Derrek’s mouth opened inhumanly wide, sucking the life right out of him. His screams of agony echoed across the entire forest, causing flocks of birds miles away to fly into the air and herds of deer to bound away. He began to completely disintegrate, forming into a bright orange stream of light, tapering off as he was seemingly being eaten by Derrek.
The scream persisted until there was nothing left of Boyd save for a burnt outline of his form on the grass and his scythe lying several feet away. Derrek stood, the light fading, allowing the man to get a look at the situation. His eyes grew wide after realizing what he had just witnessed, and he immediately reached into his coat, pulling out a large revolver, which he pointed at Derrek.
Derrek turned around and faced him, his left eye glowing green and his right one completely unresponsive. The glowing stopped, and he came to all at once, rubbing his eyes and temples, experiencing a very painful headache. When he opened his eyes and saw the man holding a gun, they stared at each other for a full beat, after which he slowly put his hands up.
“Please, don’t shoot,” he said with no idea what else to say.
The man had a puzzled look on his face. He lowered the gun slightly, no longer aiming for center mass. He let a few more seconds pass before saying, “Is that really all you have to say?”
Derrek shrugged his shoulders, still keeping his hands up.
The man’s face went from confusion to one of intense thought. Still keeping the gun up, he said, “So, let me get this straight. You, some completely ordinary dude, just killed what I wouldn’t blame you for thinking was the Grim Reaper, something that isn’t supposed to be able to die, I might add, and then fucking ate him and just turned around, put your hands up, and asked me not to kill you?”
“I … ate him?” Derrek asked with a surprised expression on his face.
They stared at each other for another few seconds before the man began laughing intensely, doing his best to catch his breath, struggling to stand up straight as he keeled over, howling with humor. Derrek watched for a full thirty seconds before thinking it was all right to put his hands down back at his side.
After the man caught his breath, he twirled the gun, tucking it back into his coat. “You’re a riot, man!” He pulled his sword out from the ground and stuck it into his coat as well, defying logic and confusing Derrek immensely. He walked up to him and held his hand out. “The name’s Discord, by the way.”
He reached his hand out to shake Discord’s, which he grabbed at his wrist in a Spartan handshake. “I’m Derrek, Derrek Snowe.”
Discord shook his head and said, “No, no, I wanna hear your warrior name.”
“What’s that?”
Discord looked shocked. “Seriously? That trend fizzled out?” he asked as Derrek shrugged again, clearly having no idea what he was talking about. He sighed loudly. “All right, you’ve got your real name, the one you use pretty much every day, the one everyone knows you by, but then there’s your warrior name. That’s what they call you on the battlefield when you wage war, when you’re with your comrades. That’s pretty much what anyone you’ve either fought alongside or crossed blades with knows you by, what your brothers-in-arms chant whenever you have a victory drink.”
“I think I get it. It’s like a nickname.”
Discord snapped his fingers. “Exactly, the only difference being you can pick your own without seeming like a total wang. So I’ll ask again, what’s your name?”
Derrek looked down for a second, thinking.
“Don’t overthink it. Just say whatever feels natural.”
He looked Discord right in the eyes and said, “Havok.”
Discord grinned and said, “Now that’s a badass name! Let me guess: with a K at the end?”
“How’d you know?”
“Because I can read.”
“What?”
“Never mind. We got bigger fish to fry now that we’re properly introduced, namely, finding a place with enough booze to serve us for a couple of hours. Shouldn’t be too hard, us being in Ukraine and all.”
“Ukraine? We’re in Germany.”
“Really? Damn, Boyd chased me a long way. But that’s much better. The taps flow with beer here!” he said, fists at his side, laughing deeply.
Derrek hadn’t gotten a chance to look at Discord clearly before now. He had an imposing presence, standing at approximately six and a half feet tall, with black hair that fell past his shoulders and parted at the center. His olive-skinned face was devoid of blemishes or scars, aside from a small portion of what he assumed was a tribal tattoo reaching up the base of his neck, and he had a small patch of hair directly under his lower lip, covering his chin, resembling a goatee without a mustache. Under his coat, he wore a plain black shirt that had been stitched and repaired many times and a pair of dark blue jeans in similar condition, with a belt buckle that had a symbol on it resembling an X, with a line drawn connecting the top and bottom left corners.
Discord began walking toward the car before stopping at the scythe, which was still lying on the ground. He picked it up halfway up the handle and began sliding it into his coat, not affecting the fabric despite being about ten feet long, then grabbed the katana and did the same. Derrek was in awe for a brief moment before realizing that might have been one of the more normal things he had seen that day. He brushed it off and made a mental note to ask him about it later.
“C’mon, I know a great pub nearby.”
“You only just found out what country you’re in. How could you possibly know what’s nearby?”
“I always know a good pub nearby. It’s one of the first things I look for whenever I get anywhere.”
Derrek laughed and joined him on the way to the car. After making sure the Conex was secure, they both climbed in with Discord at the wheel. After realizing he was still wearing his uniform, he got out to remove it and caught a look at himself in the mirror. He was shocked by what he saw. His hair had turned stark white, and his left eye was now green!
It didn’t seem dyed; it was as if his natural hair color had completely changed. He got back in the car and said, “When were you going to tell me about my hair?”
“After we got to the pub. There’s a lot to fill you in on that’s gonna totally rock your worldview. I’ve found that having a drink in your hand helps the truth go down easier.”
Derrek nodded, still fixated on his hair, which he focused on for the entire ride.