Duck, Duck, Grenade

From the perspective of Chase Cringle.

Outside, the day was nearly dawn, the sky dark blue, and a section of the street in front of the tower there were active street lamps illuminating the silent, sparsely-lit streets. The air was cool, refreshing, impregnated with vapor, and I inhaled, and I felt invigorated, high on oxygen.

"How is there power in this city?" I asked Zed.

"To the best of my knowledge, there are no operational power stations in St. Louis. Orrus made sure of that. As for this tower, that's another story. There's maybe half a dozen or more generators underneath the tower. They come in handy."

Brandon shuffled his feet, his eyes darting from the barren parking spots, then to Zed, then to the parking spots, then back to Zed. Brandon replied, "I don't see any vehicles on this street. Where are all the vehicles?"

"I wouldn't know," Zed replied. "This isn't our doing."

"So," Brandon asked, "the Flesheaters removed all the vehicles on this block?"

"It appears they've removed every vehicle for several blocks."

Jeriah's hands formed tight fists at his side. "We could find us a couple of cars somewhere," Jeriah suggested. "Before Orrus and his thugs corner us."

Zed answered, "Sure, we could do that."

We paced ourselves as we ran up the street, searching for two operable vehicles.

It took about five minutes of romping in the streets before we found what we needed: a white GMC Denali for Zed and his crew, and a black Chevrolet Tahoe for me and my two best friends. Keys included.

Zed broke open the locked doors on the Denali by placing his hands on the driver's side door handle and sending a small electrical charge through the handle causing the lock mechanism to malfunction and to release pressure on the lock; Zed then used the same technique on the Tahoe. I was impressed by Zed's simple yet effective sorcery.

We then said our goodbyes.

"See you all. May we meet again," Zed said.

"I sincerely hope we do. Take care," I replied.

"Right back at you."

Zed and his crew parted ways with me and my loyal companions as we waved sparingly outside the Tahoe. The white GMC Denali disappeared into the distant dawn. The silence was stifling, but I snapped myself out of my daze. My group needed me.

Brandon called shotgun, and none of us refused him. He started the SUV, rolled down the windows with the push of a button, shifted gears, and he drove the Tahoe forward to the end of the street.

Brandon tried his best to locate the road that led to the I-70 corridor. With my navigational skills, I offered help, and he was able to find the road we needed to traverse.

The stench of charred flesh filled my nostrils as a blinding blood-orange sun rose up over the pale violet horizon in the east. The sun's rays reflected off the Gateway Arch as we neared closer to I-70 .

"What's that smell?" Jeriah asked.

"Smells like a BBQ," Brandon answered. "Except the meat smells burnt."

Jeriah scoffed, "At this hour? I doubt anyone in this city is going to have a BBQ at the crack of dawn."

"Then I must be wrong," Brandon conceded. "But, that smell. It doesn't smell right. Whatever that stench is, we need to stay far away from it. It's giving me bad vibes."

Suddenly a bullet shot through the front windshield missing Brandon by mere inches. Brandon instinctively floored the breaks, then he shut off the vehicle in the middle of the road.

"I understand that you almost got shot, but why stop?" I asked.

"Because of them." There was no need for Brandon to point with his fingers, as it was clear as day: Flesheaters emerged from the alleyways, from out of buildings, from out of cars, and they descended from the building tops. Moments later, from out of the massive crowd of Flesheaters, Orrus and Micah paced forward, together, leading their undead followers.

"This is a terrible predicament we got ourselves into," Jeriah duly noted. "We're sitting ducks here. There's nowhere to run. And I'm the only human left alive between the three of us."

"Then we do whatever to keep you alive," I said. "Let me confront Orrus. I'll see if I can make a deal so that they will let you both leave without further confrontation."

"Sure," Brandon and Jeriah both agreed in unison.

I hopped out of the Tahoe and I shut the door behind me as I stared down Orrus who towered over his pawns.

Orrus and Micah stopped walking nearly five feet in front of me, their supremely wicked personas looming over me. Orrus' eye had healed overnight. There was absolutely no evidence he was ever stabbed in the eye.

Orrus asked, "What made you leave, Cringle?" He was close to finishing munching on what appeared to be a portion of a seared human leg. When finished he threw the leg bones to the side and he rubbed his mouth clean with the side of his right arm.

"Yeah, why did you leave?" Micah added.

I stated the terms. "Before I say anything, I request that you let my friends go. They've done you Flesheaters no harm."

"True," Orrus admitted, "your friends aren't responsible for your diligent escape on the highway, but each of you are equally responsible for escaping the tower. Escaping has its consequences. We have you surrounded. We could let your two buddies slide, but that would ruin the fun. So, tell your friends to get out of the vehicle, then tell them to stand beside you in a neat row. Do it. Now."

I obeyed Orrus' command without question. I sluggishly told Brandon and Jeriah to get out and to stand beside me.

Orrus reached inside of his leather jacket and produced an ancient, battered android phone, baffling me and my friends. I hadn't seen a cellphone in ages. Then again, I had been living in rural areas of Kentucky most of my life.

"Alright, since you chumps can follow simple orders, I want you three to hold hands and sing along to 'What a Wonderful World' by Louis Armstrong. I'm sure you've all heard that one. Who hasn't?"

"What if we don't?" Brandon questioned.

"If I don't hear you three sing together, I'll shove a grenade into each of your assholes and pull the pin one at a time so that Chase is the last one left alive after witnessing you explode into searing hot ash and his other friend explode into bits of flesh. You think I don't notice you've been turned? Haha. It's quite obvious, fledgling."

"In that case, we'll surely sing," Brandon clarified, his lips pursed.

"You all surely better," Orrus replied. "I'll start the song now." Orrus pressed the play button on his android phone.

Brandon, Jeriah, and I braced ourselves. The three of us were never before more scared for our lives than right now. Our performance would determine our fate. We dared not skip a beat. We sang to the lyrics of the song without fail, no matter how weird it seemed.

When the song was over, Orrus stored his phone beneath the fold of his jacket, delighted in our performance. I was thirsty for a drink, any drink.

"Splendid performance!" Orrus shouted.

"Thanks," I said. "Can we get a drink?"

Orrus turned his head toward Micah. "Micah, know anyone in this bunch of fucktards that has anything to drink?"

"Nope," Micah answered in a monotone voice.

Orrus turned his head back toward me. "Sorry, mate. None of us have anything to drink. We don't even carry blood on us. We've all learned that human blood has an awful taste if let to sit in a container. We prefer fresh blood straight from the host."

"What devious plans do you have in store for us now?" Brandon asked. "Let me guess, you want us to lick our own shit?"

"No. That's gross as fuck. You three have become like friends to me. Making you lick your own shit? Hell no. That's just wrong. No, I'd never have you three do that. But I am feeling a little on the good side, so how about you three kneel and beg for mercy? Or, if you want, you three could have an exclusive orgy together right here on the blacktop. Either one is fine."

"You're a psycho! A lunatic!" Brandon shouted fiercely. "You're sick!"

Orrus laughed darkly. "Seriously, Brandon?" Orrus said. "Shut the fuck up and kneel. You too, Chase. And let's not forget Jeriah. I can't forget you, human."

"How do you know our names?" I asked.

"I have my sources."

Jeriah and I submitted to Orrus' demands; however, Brandon wasn't in the mood to kneel.

"You dare defy me?" Orrus stared at Brandon with cold, dark eyes as he stepped closer to Brandon, hovering like a thunderstorm. Orrus towered over Brandon as if he was a dwarf.

"You're blocking my view," Brandon said to Orrus.

Orrus feigned a smile and looked Brandon dead in the eyes, asking again, "You dare defy me?"

Brandon, being his usual self in the face of malice, replied, "Yes. I dare."

Orrus roared vehemently "fool!" and he side-whacked Brandon in the abdomen. Brandon was flung backward onto the asphalt.

"Little pig, little pig, how you have fallen," Orrus crooned.

"Fuck you," Brandon commented angrily.

Orrus grinned in delight at Brandon's derogatory comment. "Yeah, I pushed you, big deal. Being pushed around should be the least of your worries, little pig."

Brandon's automated response: "You're scum. Eat dog shit you cocksucking son-of-a-bitch."

Orrus bent down to Brandon's level and grabbed him by his throat, then he proceeded to choke Brandon until Brandon tapped on Orrus's arm.

Orrus couldn't help but grin as he released his grip around Brandon's throat. Orrus then ruffled Brandon's long hair into a mess of black tangles. When Orrus was through, he pushed Brandon's head away forcefully.

Brandon barked, "Don't touch me you damn creep!"

Orrus' pupils dilated to their maximum capacity, his carefree expression fading, replaced with extreme anger, as if a piece of his soul had shut down in response to Brandon's harsh comment. The giant grabbed Brandon's left arm, tightened his grip, then, with all the energy he could muster, he carelessly threw Brandon twenty feet through the air.

Brandon tumbled on the asphalt. He appeared quite disoriented with his hair hung over his eyes and with scrapes on his hands and forehead. He turned his gaze to me for an answer to Orrus' wicked shenanigans. Under the circumstances, I dared not move to help him. I understood the consequences for stepping out of line with Orrus, even though my heart was telling me to help. I was torn by the decision.

Brandon, with fizzling hatred, returned to his place next to me, then he knelt, facing Orrus, and, like an obedient dog, he bowed his head. He didn't have the heart to defy Orrus again.

"Why bully someone like Brandon?" I asked Orrus. "Why do it? Just because someone doesn't want to obey your demands, that doesn't give you the right to harm that person. Did no one teach you ethics?"

"Is that what your momma told you, Cringle?" Orrus asked in response.

"It doesn't take an idiot to figure out that no one in their right mind wants to be pushed around."

Orrus' pupils returned to their normal, docile state as he stepped eerily close to me, bent down, and whispered into my ear, "Kill or be killed, as they say."

I hung my head for a moment, only to raise my head with a sense of perseverance. "I am sorry you have to be an asshole to everyone. Your father must not have loved you very much."

Orrus sneered, "I'll let Jaeger deal with you, brat."

"Why does Jaeger care? He has no business with me nor the Hart Clan.

Orrus interjected, "Oh, but Jaeger does have business with the Hart Clan. But for now, it's time for fun and games." Orrus produced a grenade from inside his leather jacket, brandishing the lethal device with carelessness.

Orrus proposed, "I've an idea. Let's play a variant of Duck Duck Goose. We'll call this new game Duck Duck Grenade. I will personally set off this grenade and then hand it to one of you fine boys, and then that person must pass the grenade along, not toss it like how you'd toss a hot potato. The rules are simple. None of you can drop the grenade. If one of you tosses the grenade, we'll kill the human in your group. If any of you reject playing, we'll just eliminate all three of you right here and now. So, what's it gonna be?"

Brandon questioned, "What would happen if a grenade blows up while me or Chase is holding it?"

"Probably lose your entire arm and be disfigured from third degree burns, but you won't die, most likely. Your arm would just grow back in a matter of days, and your burns will heal. This grenade has only half the power of a normal incendiary grenade, anyway."

I couldn't allow Jeriah to die. Brandon must've thought the same. Pain and disfigurement can't be compared to the death of a friend. The only option for us was to play Orrus's game and to hope the grenade didn't blow up anywhere near Jeriah. But I had a better idea.

"We'll play," I confirmed.

"Great. Now, you three, stand up."

We did as we were told and waited for the game to begin.

Orrus soaked up the suspense like a sponge. After a moment of grinning and watching, he removed the pin and tossed the grenade to me. The grenade fell heavy into my hands. In my mind, I was thinking, "Oh snap, a grenade, throw it now!" but in reality I was in shock. I never held a grenade before. I knew what I had to do, but the question was did I have the guts to do it? Any other choice would have led to the serious harm or death of Jeriah.

I hardened my resolve. I turned to face Orrus, whose eyes faded to black once again, noticing that I had no intention of playing Duck Duck Grenade. Time seemed to slow. I retracted my right arm, and I threw the grenade straight for Orrus.

"Heads up!" I yelled.

The grenade burst into hellfire right in front of Orrus's face. After the smoke cleared, I discovered for myself Orrus's impenetrable skin.

Orrus, with his eyes pure black, blinked in response to the blast. My entire body shivered as I was afraid of what would happen next.

Orrus turned toward Jeriah with a merciless face, reached into his jacket, and unveiled a .44 Magnum pistol. He pointed the barrel at Jeriah's chest, cocked the pistol, and pulled the trigger. Jeriah's blood splattered on Brandon and I. Mortified, Jeriah grunted, then he stumbled backward in total confusion. Placing his right hand over the hole in his chest, he felt his blood soak through his Iron Maiden T-shirt. He knew that he shouldn't be alive. But he continued to breathe, and he continued to stumble backward without falling.

"No way, man. No way." Jeriah muttered.

"That's for your friends breaking the rules of the game," Orrus responded. "Fucking idiot."

Jeriah fell back and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he landed hard on the asphalt.

Everyone was very solemn. Even Orrus seemed to have regretted his decision as he shook his head back and forth. I, for one, couldn't believe Jeriah laid dead on the asphalt. How foolish of me! Fuck!

Then, to my astonishment, in front of Orrus a portal formed. The portal was like the surface of a dark, murky lake. A hand reached out of the portal, gripping Orrus's revolver. A stranger stepped out of the portal and the portal collapsed in on itself behind the stranger. The stranger's perfectly white teeth and vampiric canines formed an innocent smile as he faced down Orrus whose black eyes stared blankly into the eyes of the stranger. The stranger swiped the revolver from Orrus's stiff hand and he dumped the remaining bullets to the ground, then he tossed the revolver to the side while Orrus continued to stare blankly.

The silence was stifling as Jeriah lay dead on the pavement, his clothes turning sanguine.

The stranger wore a black hooded robe and black leather boots. He had curly shoulder-length brown hair and amber brown eyes, and he was about as tall as I was.

The stranger spoke aloud. "Sorry that I'm late folks. Looks like someone died."

The stranger turned to face me and waved his right hand. "Hey, there, Cringle."

"Austin? What the fuck are you doing here?" Orrus asked the stranger.

Austin turned back to Orrus. "Sorry, did I crash the party?"

Orrus vehemently growled in response and seethed as his hateful black eyes narrowed at the stranger.

Puzzled, I asked Austin,"Do I know you?"

"I'm the one who saved you from an eternal slumber. I made you a vampire, Cringle."

Orrus interjected, "The runt will be coming with us, Austin, once we're through with skinning you."

"Shut up, Michael Myers." Austin pointed his right index finger at Orrus' head as if it was a gun and he snapped his hand back, pretending to shoot Orrus. "Pow."

Orrus, skeptical, could only chuckle. "What's that supposed to do?"

Austin replied, "You'll see."

Irritated, Orrus stepped toward Austin with the intent to snap him as if he was a twig, but the giant couldn't walk ten feet before he collapsed, falling to the ground with a loud grunt, unconscious.

Micah's face suddenly paled and the Flesheaters all began to chatter amongst themselves.

What the hell did Austin do to Orrus? Did Austin really put Orrus to sleep?

"Y'all wanna know what I did, huh?" Austin spoke to the crowd of Flesheaters. "I put the fragile princess to bed, that's what I did!" Austin then turned to mock Micah. "You better have your captain looked at. He could die, permanently, if he doesn't wake soon. Don't make the same mistake he did."

Micah exchanged bitter glances with Austin, then he commanded four grunts among the Flesheaters to carry Orrus back to their tower while Micah and the rest of the Flesheaters fled the scene.

With the Flesheaters a safe distance away, I was free to move without consequence, so I rushed to Jeriah's side. I couldn't believe Jeriah was dead. I had to assume total responsibility for Jeriah's death. I had to reverse the damage done.

Brandon fell to his knees and held his head in his hands.

I asked, "Austin, how did you make me a vampire?"

"So, you want to know how to make a vampire out of your deceased friend?"

"Yes, I do."

"All you have to do is make him drink your blood."

"How can I make him drink when he is already dead?"

"Making him drink is the easy part of this process. Your friend's heart has been destroyed, therefore his recovery process is going to be somewhat complex. I don't know what Gene told you, but vampires can't be made of thin air. If a person dies and experiences extreme trauma, you can't make that deceased person a vampire--they can't be fixed. All of us undead are born out of necromancy. Some call it black magic or dark magic. Unless you know some level of necromancy, you cannot hope to revive any deceased individual that has experienced severe trauma."

Brandon delved into the conversation. "How do we fix his heart?"

Austin thought for a moment, rubbing his forehead, then he confidently replied, "We need a special surgeon, a surgeon able to restore the damaged tissue, veins, and arteries of your friend. The only person that I know of that can do this is located several hundreds of miles away. She's a necromancess."

"That doesn't help, her being so far away," I said.

"No, it doesn't help, but you're lucky that I can navigate through the Nether Realm faster than anyone. What I could do is take a few minutes to visit this necromancess. I can then have her come back here with me to assess your friend's condition and possibly save him. It's no guarantee, though. I just need one thing in return."

"What do you need?" I asked.

"What I need is something that Micah holds near and dear. Micah wields something called a promethean orb, one of many ancient magical orbs. These orbs grant their wielder supernatural powers. Each orb grants its own special power or ability."

"How do you know about all this?"

"I work for The Future of Energy Foundation, FEF for short. One of the leading scientists for this corporation, Gale Greene, is devoted to studying the properties and behaviors of these promethean orbs. He'll do anything for a new promethean orb to study. He's mostly interested in the orbs that vastly improves the user's physical or mental abilities. He works at the FEF Allegheny Regional Laboratory.

"I have watched Micah for a number of weeks, waiting for an opportune time. I intend to take his promethean orb, a bright yellow orb that allows Micah to see farther and clearer than any other creature on Earth. You may have noticed a bright light behind Micah's eyepatch; that is where he keeps his promethean orb, in his eye socket. We'll have no choice but to incapacitate him and remove the promethean orb, unless he gives us the orb willingly."

"Too much info, dude! Please, go get the necromancess!" I shouted, suddenly very anxious.

"Of course! I'm off! I just need you to wait here. Give me five minutes. I'll be back. I promise. Later."

Austin formed a portal and stepped through without further conversation. The portal instantly collapsed behind him.

As Brandon paced back and forth in anticipation, I dared not move from Jeriah's side, I owed him that much. I had to be there for him. What are friends for?