Starving the Beast

New Year, new chapter! The Shambella Saga continues where last we left our companions, struggling with the Beast near the park where they encountered Siris and the Smiling Rock.

Did your cat ever see ghosts? Why do I ask? Oh, nevermind...

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Starving the Beast

It didn’t take Sam as long as he thought to shamble down from the bridge. The path through the brush put him on the other side of the creek.

Though he bled from many scrapes and scratches and his bum leg was sore as Hell, he was happy to see Siris wading through the ankle-deep water to get to him.

“Sam! I can still hear ‘em off in the woods! Any rounds left in that rifle?”

“Nope. I emptied the whole clip into that thing.”

“Dammit. My ammo's on the other side of the park!”

“I don’t think that matters. This dude can’t be defeated with bullets.”

“Where’s Ella?” Siris asked.

Before Sam could answer, trees not yet felled by the Beast's might were broken in half or torn from their roots as it erupted from the forest, barreling toward them, its growls and screams of agony bending toward rage as it vomited goons, only to have them reform for another round of fuck-you-take-that.

Colt straddled the monster, whipped to and fro like a cowboy besting a bull.

Sam was reminded of a story he loved as a child: Pecos Bill Rides a Tornado.

Sam felt the EYEGOONS come alive in his pocket and the whole world filled with feedback louder even than the howls of the Beast.

Ella burst from a vesica of brilliant light, and she wasn’t alone.

“Is that a cat?” Siris mouthed as he and Sam shared a confused look.

Colt pulled back, its bony fingers plunged into the ethereal goo.

The Beast reared, slammed to the ground, reared again as Heavy Metal fury assaulted all ears.

Colt was wearing it out, setting it up for the kill.

When the song abruptly ended, David the Cat sat before the Beast's heaving mass, unafraid.

He hissed and rawred and mewed aloud, his voice amplified by the same strange magic that possessed the EYEGOONS.

These were not mere feline fancies.

What David was pronouncing was the barbaric, timeless name of the Beast.

Ella heard it, could communicate it to her new friend mind to mind, but she could not say it aloud.

Only David the Cat could speak that long-lost language.

What David saw as he hissed and spit and howled and meowed was just as mysterious.

His pupils were completely dilated.

His eyes quivered and watered, unblinking, as he concentrated on the task of unraveling, through an enigmatic bestial sorcery, whatever thread gave the Beast its corporeal form.

The heaving mass grew weak beneath Colt’s grasp as David’s song grew quieter, until the goo melted into a massive puddle littered with harmless teeth.

Colt stood up in the midst of it, looked around, and shrugged.

The goons, no doubt relieved to assume their original forms for the last time today, walked away shaking the mess from their weary bones.

The companions were now eleven.

Colt and the six goons, a gang of magical skeletons.

Ella, Queen of the Damned.

Shamblin’ Sam.

Siris, short for Osiris, simple-minded but loyal.

David the extra-dimensional, caterwauling, demon-slaying feline.

They all gathered near the fissure where the Beast emerged, not knowing what to say, but sharing an unspoken bond.

They starved the Beast.

Siris broke the silence. “Well, now that the thing is dead, maybe we could all use somethin’ to eat. I got stores on the other side of the park, and more ammo for the rifle.”

The day had been long and difficult, so the companions adjourned to discuss what came next.

The Narrator, hoping to spare the readers too much expositional dialogue, sums it up thus:

There could be no doubt that the hand of fate was at play.

This little detour seemed to the companions a confirmation of Ella and Sam’s original suspicion that their way was South.

What awaited them, the companions could not guess, but they all agreed that it would be a pleasure and an honor to travel the road forward together, so they packed Siris’ stores, and more ammo for the rifle, and David and the three humans settled down while the goons kept their nightly vigil.

As the fire died down, Sam handed the EYEGOONS back to Ella, and this reminded her of something she’d forgotten.

“Did you ever hear of a guy named Doose? Plays an acoustic bass?”

“Doose the Ghost?” Sam asked. “It’s gotta be Doose the Ghost! I mean, not many folks play the bass as a lead instrument, let alone an acoustic one. Debra and I used to see him all the time at an open mic down the street. He played beautiful, sad songs. Kinda put people off sometimes, and never seemed to get close, but Deb really loved it when he appeared. Why do you ask?”

“He introduced the scene about the smiling rock. Why?”

“That is a question I cannot answer. Suppose if he’s in that thing, or whatever, we’ll find out eventually.”

Just then the EYEGOONS rumbled to life, and the last thing they all heard left them thinking, as they drifted off to sleep, that someone might be watching over them after all.

***** * *****

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