Nocturnal: A Novel

firing the five-seven as the old man came on.

Good luck, brother.

Bryan turned his back on the ship and ran down the trench.

Rex tried to scream come on, but his jaw wouldn’t move. The monster landed on the burning deck, knife raised, his old face snarling with evil. Rex pulled the trigger two more times, put two more rounds in the monster’s chest, and then the monster rushed in. They tumbled back into the flames.

These demons had invaded his world, his kingdom.

Kill them kill them all killthemkillthemkillthem

Rex scrambled to his feet. He tore off the burning cape, tried and failed to find a place without flame. Erickson stood on ruined feet already scorched black. His skin bubbled, his scrap of clothing disintegrated into floating bits. Rex reached down to grab a flaming piece of wood, then stepped deeper into the fire to attack Savior.

Rex would slaughter the monster, then gather his people and start over.

“Go right!”

Bryan held the girl tight as he leaped across the trench to the next mesa. Sweat soaked the shirt under his armored jacket. Below and to his left, the others ran through the trenches as fast as they could. Pookie was in the lead, carrying Zou in his arms. Robertson, Biz-Nass, the girls; all of them were coughing heavily — Bryan didn’t have much time before people started collapsing.

They were almost to the cavern’s wall. He looked at the trenches, traced the path toward the stairs that would take everyone up to the ledge. So close! The smoke burned at his eyes, shoved its way down his throat to scorch his lungs. Wind whipped through the cavern, scattering dust, blowing the smoke around like some vision of hell.

“Take the next right!” he shouted down. Pookie adjusted his grip on Zou, then led them forward. The group exited that trench and stood at the base of the stairs. Bryan jumped down to join them. His feet hit, then his legs gave out and he fell, turning to shield the girl as he did.

A rattling cough shook his chest. Hands pulled him to his feet. He looked at Pookie, saw the man was just about exhausted. Bryan set the girl down, then took Zou out of Pookie’s arms. He threw the woman over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“We’re almost out,” he said between coughs. “Just make it up these stairs.”

Bryan coughed once more, then started climbing. He kept Zou on his right shoulder so his left hand — with its blistered skin and broken fingers — could feel along the wall. Fifteen feet up, he was high enough to look to his right, out across the maze to the burning ship.

Flames soared so high they kissed the arena roof some fifty feet above. Old pieces of wood all along the ceiling had caught fire — they burned like little flaming suns set into a smoke-filled sky made of dirt, brick and rock. Bits of the roof broke free, plummeting down to smash into the burning ship or pummel maze plateaus and trenches.

Bryan kept climbing.

Three steps from the ledge, a crack and a whuff drew his attention back to the ship as the captain’s cabin sagged, then collapsed in a billowing puff of swirling flame. Bryan saw an impossibility: Firstborn, fully ablaze, straining to pull a flaming cart out of the cabin.

On that cart, even through the shimmering heat, Bryan saw the thing Aggie had described — Mommy.

His mother.

Bloated beyond comprehension. Little arms flailing. Little legs kicking. And in that massive, distended belly, Bryan saw things moving, twitching, saw bubbles forming and joining and popping.

The fluid in her massive belly was boiling, boiling and swelling.

Her stomach tore — a thin, high jet of steam shot out, but the belly continued to swell like a filling helium balloon. Another jet of steam appeared, then she popped, exploding outward in flame- spinning chunks of sizzling flesh.

Bryan climbed the last three steps toward the ledge, toward John and Adam and Alder.

Rex tumbled off the rail and crashed down hard to a trench floor below. The monster was too strong! Rex looked back up to the prow to see his enemy — the old man stood on the rail, naked and blistered, blood and soot covering his skin. Savior looked more like a monster than ever before.

He had a knife in his hand and madness in his eyes.

The old man gripped the handle in both hands, bent his legs, then lunged out into the air.

Rex reached up in time to catch the monster’s wrists. He fell back hard, struggling to keep the knife point from driving into his eye.

Eyes watering, his vision a shimmering blur, Bryan fell to a knee. He couldn’t make it. He heard screaming — Adam’s voice — shouting over the whipping wind, urging him and the others on, telling them to hurry. He looked up to see John Smith holding the black-haired girl tight, his green hood up around a face that dripped with sweat.

“Get up, Clauser,” John said, then carried the girl into the tunnel. The others ran past Bryan, a coughing mass of legs and arms following John in.

How could Amy Zou feel so heavy?

Bryan felt hands on his shoulders, dragging him up by his coat.

“Bri-Bri,” Pookie said, then coughed so hard bits of blood flew out of his mouth. “This is not nappy-time. Move.”

Bryan stood, adjusted Zou on his shoulder, then followed Pookie to the tunnel entrance. They stumbled over corpses stretched out all over the ledge — John and the others had been busy. Before he entered the tunnel, Bryan looked back out at the cavern one last time.

The flames were already dying down. The ship glowed like living coal, waves of orange light washing through the sagging vessel. The mast burned like a torch; a steady rain of skulls dropped off to tumble into the embers below. As Bryan watched, the mast tilted, then fell, smashing through the deck in a shower of sparks and spinning cinders.

The arena spectators had fled. The place was empty.

Almost empty — in a trench in front of the ship, Bryan saw Rex on his back, Erickson on top of him trying to drive a knife into the boy’s throat. Rex fought, his torn face screwed up into a horrid mask of rage, his shaking hands holding Erickson’s wrists. Smoke swirled through the trench around them, reminding Bryan of the thick San Francisco fog that rolled down streets in the late-night hours.

The knife pushed closer.

Then a blur of smoldering black hit Erickson and drove him into a trench wall. The Ka-Bar knife spun and dropped to the ground.

Rex slowly rolled to his feet. So much pain. His knight had saved him. Firstborn looked horrible — his fur gone, his blistered skin smoking in places, sheened with oozing wetness in others. Burns from head to toe, yet still he fought for his king.

Rex pushed past the pain. He bent and picked up the knife.

“Bryan, come on!” Pookie’s voice. Bryan carried Amy Zou to the tunnel entrance, never taking his eyes off the scene below. Wind shot out of the tunnel, sucked in from beyond to feed the hungry fire. In the center of the cavern, a large chunk of ceiling gave way, dropping down to smash the trenches like an asteroid hitting a planet. The place was collapsing.

Rex watched.

Rex waited.