THE JOURNEY OF EVIL

Chapter 2

Cyrus felt like he was walking in the clouds; his head hurt and he had just inhaled the most awful thing since his meal. A gas used to wake up victims that are put into a forced sleep. He groaned as he tried to register his new surroundings; the room was gone. He sat within the confines of a car. He looked around; everything in the car was black. The keys were attached to the ignition and a walkie-talkie sat on his lap. And beside him on the passenger seat were three guns: an automatic rifle, one shotgun, and a handy handgun.

“ Pick up?" Anderson's voice echoed from the device. Cyrus just stared at it as he rubbed against his face, he imagined smashing it or throwing it out the window and flooring accelerator far from here but he shook his head and the idea away when he sighted an army of men with armored tanks and  guns raised toward his direction from the car's side mirror. There was no turning back. "Pick up the goddamned device, I know you're awake."  

Through the mirror, he saw Anderson glare and smile. 

"Why don't you come check on me? Leave your tiny squadron of protection and come say hi. We can fix our broken situation." Cyrus said. He grinned when he saw anger climb on the man's face but Anderson did not move.

"I'll enlighten you on the status quo: five miles from here, there is an isolated village that has now been declared quarantined. Three native villagers had, in their terms, "escaped" what they call a monster that made people act mindless after melting their faces," Anderson said. Cyrus had an eyebrow raised. He didn't want to believe a whole squadron was gathered to force him on a journey because of the whining of hungry and starved villagers that may have trekked some five miles. But here it was. He shook his head with a sigh as Anderson went on.

"We sent in a team of four with a recording device to capture data that can tell us what we're up against before we greet them. Military style. And I do hate to say this, but you've got a proven record of surviving dangerous situations. We want that device; get it and get out. Don't engage in anything; you have two days. If we don't see you, we're coming in full force, and we'll level everything. I wouldn't want you caught in a crossfire; you'll be punctured." Cyrus, who has been watching Anderson, saw him grin at his last statement.

"You said I'd be mostly free, but this is a goddamn cage." Cyrus banged on the horn of his car; it beeped and made Anderson take a step back. Cyrus heard the clocking of guns in reaction to his rage. "Now you want me to go and babysit three grown adults who probably had a car breakdown and are in need of food. What an amazing first day!"

"There's enough food to last one week in the trunk, and hopefully you get to do your babysitting because we've not heard from them in eight days. You should hurry along. Daylight's burning."

Cyrus unwinded his side of the window as he ignited the engine of the car. He took out his middle finger and gave a f**k you finger sign to Anderson. He floored the accelerator, and the vehicle, a Mercedes Benz, shot forward, kicking up dirt and sand he hoped landed on Anderson.

There was one thing on this patch of road that kept the smile on Cyrus face: his windows were down and the wind pushed against his face, keeping his hair flapping in the wind. And on the speedometer, the rating was maxed out.

"Whoa!" Cyrus yelled to the wind. He did not know if Anderson was listening or tracking anything, but he really did not care. It was a quarantine, and who was to stop him from ignoring all traffic laws?

There was a loud sound that sounded like a screech, and in the distance, a cloud of dust was rolling toward him. He looked at it, and in the car's side mirror, he looked confused. A dark figure on four legs suddenly crossed the road and stood on his path; its eyes were red and it seemed to be staring directly at him. Cyrus felt his heart hammer in his chest and his throat dry. To anyone, he would have sworn that it had not been anywhere near the vicinity. He swerved the car to the right, missing the beast by an inch. The right tire went off the road and hit the pavement in a way that made it bounce. He struggled with the steering and managed to bring the car to a halt a few feet ahead.

Momentarily forgetting the rolling dust that was getting closer, he grabbed the gun they suited him up with, opened the side of his door, and stepped out, arms raised, ready to shoot but frozen in his stance, his eyes widening as he searched for the creature. There was nothing on the road, as far as his eyes could see. He heard the low rumble of the cloud of sand behind him and jumped back into the car. He slammed the door and managed to roll up the window before he was engulfed in it.

He sat there for what felt like hours, listening to the tap of stones on his windscreen. His heart ran its own race, pounding away with his mind going back to the look of recognition in the beast's eyes. It was eerily human. When he decided he was going to ride blind toward his destination, it cleared up. He looked around and behind him, the cloud of dust was going further down the road.

"Clouds of sand are coming your way, " he said into the walkie-talkie and resumed his journey. They could make-out whatever they wanted from it. He was more interested in the source that could send a shock wave of that magnitude.  

He pulled into the village toward evening and parked his car a few feet beside another car of similar make to his own. He came down and peered into the car; it was neat. He tried to unlock it and it opened. He scanned his environment for signs of a struggle, blood, or a dead body and found nothing but a few overgrown grasses scattered around. But it was not quite right with him; it was odd that there was no sound coming from his surroundings. Total silence.

His eyes settled on a building deep in the center of the village, with houses flanking it on both sides. The door to the building was open and he saw a figure in white walk by. He brought out his gun and jogged toward the building. Once in, he looked to his left where the person had passed and saw, just in time, the person turned the corner. 

The corridor was cold, with dampness in the air.

"Hey," he said, running after the person. "Can't you hear me?" He turned the corner and saw a door, but when he opened it, an empty room stared back at him. There was no road forward or anyone in white. He swallowed.

"What kind of prank are you playing?" He shouted. "We gotta get out of here; you have an annoying boss on my neck." But at the same time he brought out his gun, he hoped he sounded scared enough for whoever was behind this to come out.

He backtracked his steps and moved slowly toward the entrance.  He moved with light steps but the floorboard creaked underneath his feet because of how old and moldy they were.  There were a few bulbs hanging above him with blinking lights that did little to illuminate the dark passage. He reached the entrance with his fingers tight on his gun and his eyes trained hard to watch his environment when he saw a kid of about five years dressed in a white temple cloth, spotted brown hair and what looked from where he stood as icy blue eyes.

The middle path led to a large hall that was dark; most of the daylight outside was gone, with the sunset as the last surviving light. The boy stood at the entrance of this hall, staring ahead and beyond the entrance of the building.

“Hey,” he called to the child but he was met with no response. He looked around and stepped toward the child. He was very close now to see that both of the child's legs were stuck in the floor and it looked to be in pain but there was no scream. “Kid, I can take you out of that but where are the rest of the villagers?”

The kid responded by shaking his head; it looked up at him and smiled. It was a big grin that was sinister because some of its teeth were showing and they were black. Cyrus felt two things strongly: the realization that the kid's eyes were white and the overwhelming urge to pick up the kid against his will. Beads of sweat gathered on his brows and flowed down his face. His hands were vibrating as he slowly tucked his gun into his belt. The kid spread his hands apart and stood on his tiptoe, looking up into Cyrus's eyes with a blank expression. Cyrus watched his knee bend and his body move into a squat position. His teeth were gritted with his eyes trained on his hands, that creeped closer to lifting the kid. He tried to focus his will on doing the opposite but could only manage to make his hand shake. The child's lips spread into a little grin at Cyrus's effort. 

“Cyrus!” a voice called his name, it was deep and was so loud in his head that he broke out of the child's control and held his head in pain.

 “Cyrus, you're mine," The voice screamed, the vibration of the echoes were like firing gunshots beside a person's ear. A mini shockwave moved from him and rocked the child. "He's mine!” it added. And if you were standing beside Cyrus you'll hear it, dark, greedy and possessive. 

Cyrus looked up when the pain had reduced but there was no child. He stared at what looked like a scorpion's tail, tracking it as it rose high into the air and within the darkness, red eyes were staring at him. He recoiled and landed on his butt a few feet from whatever was hidden in the dark.  He was still moving back when he hit an obstacle. He looked up to see an old lady staring down at him.

“I’ve never met someone else that met  it and lived to talk about it, you're a special one right?” The old lady - known as Selene by the villagers in this little town- said. There was a white power in her hand, she blew it into his face. Cyrus saw the room begin to spin , he tried to stand but could not move his body till everything in his vision cut to black.