placed his hand on the zippered entrance. "Al? I'm coming in, man." He waited a beat, but there was no response from inside.
John took a deep breath and unzipped the entrance. The smell slammed into his nostrils and he gagged. He held his nose and spread open the flap.
Alonso lay sideways on a sleeping bag. His face was barely recognizable. The flesh had slid off his bones in a gray ooze. His left eyeball lay on the pillow beside him. Bones protruded through the gaps in the dissolved flesh.
John pulled himself out of the tent and vomited. He coughed, wiped his face, and stumbled backwards. He peered toward Blanco's tent. Gut roiling, John walked on rubbery limbs to the blue and orange housing. "Blanco?"
He unzipped the tent, but didn't peer in. The same charnel house stench hit his nostrils. Choking back his gorge, he rezipped the tent. He dropped to his knees and panted.
The tents rippled and waved as another gust of wind rose. John forced himself to stand. "Steph?" He barely recognized his own voice. She didn't answer.
He walked to her tent and stuck his head in. Steph's eyes were closed. "Steph?"
Her eyes opened and John started. The corneas were yellow and her pupils had shrunk to dots.
"J--John? I can't see," she coughed.
He stepped further into the tent and squatted beside her. A thin line of blood escaped the corner of her mouth.
"Stay with me, Steph." He pulled a dirty shirt from her laundry pile and dabbed at the blood. "Stay with me."
"He visited me last night."
John cocked an eyebrow. "Who? Linton?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Then who?"
A runner of blood ran down her from her left nostril. She licked her lips and groaned.
"Eyes," she whispered. "The eyes. The smell. God, John. I've never been so scared."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"The Utukku," said said in a broken voice. Steph coughed and a spray of blood hit John's chest. "It was here."
He shivered, but managed to keep his face calm. "What do you mean the Utukku?"
"It came into my tent." Steph's face scrunched in pain. A roadmap of blood vessels burst in her right eye. The whites slowly disappeared as the crimson flooded its surface. "It was here."
John shook his head. "No, darlin. That was just a hallucination."
She coughed again and a foul odor escaped her lips. He recoiled from the smell of rotten meat and diseased tissue.
"No." Steph spat a tooth to the side. "Real." Her left hand, flesh sliding off the bone, rose to point at a spot behind him.
The big man whirled around and stared where her fingers indicated. His breath froze in his lungs. On the inside of the tent was a small black and grey hand-print. It looked wet and dried at the same time. He turned back to Steph.
Her lips were open in a pained grimace.
"Steph?"
She exhaled in a deep rattle of breath. She did not take another.
"Steph?" John shook her body. The skin on her left shoulder peeled off like rotted bark. Blood and black fluid oozed out. Through the sludge he could see the white of bone.
"STEPH!" he screamed in her face. Her eyes continued to stare at the handprint on the tent and her pupils had disappeared completely. John shuffled back from her on his knees. Her cheeks started to cave in, exposing rotted teeth and a black tongue. He stepped out of the tent and stumbled into the morning light.
8
THE black blanket which once wrapped the mummy lay on the ground. It was covered in a dark, dried ooze and free of sand. The sigils were scattered across the ground and the caps had been shattered.
John's cough was a rattle in his chest. Lamashtu. The diseased one. He shook his head. "No, that's crazy," he mumbled to himself. "Linton?"
There was no response from the man's tent. John turned and walked carefully to the tent. He fought to keep his balance and managed to keep from falling down twice. The third time, his foot hit one of the tent pegs and sent him sprawling to the hard dirt pack.
He spit sand and blood. A rattling groan escaped his lips. He
John took a deep breath and unzipped the entrance. The smell slammed into his nostrils and he gagged. He held his nose and spread open the flap.
Alonso lay sideways on a sleeping bag. His face was barely recognizable. The flesh had slid off his bones in a gray ooze. His left eyeball lay on the pillow beside him. Bones protruded through the gaps in the dissolved flesh.
John pulled himself out of the tent and vomited. He coughed, wiped his face, and stumbled backwards. He peered toward Blanco's tent. Gut roiling, John walked on rubbery limbs to the blue and orange housing. "Blanco?"
He unzipped the tent, but didn't peer in. The same charnel house stench hit his nostrils. Choking back his gorge, he rezipped the tent. He dropped to his knees and panted.
The tents rippled and waved as another gust of wind rose. John forced himself to stand. "Steph?" He barely recognized his own voice. She didn't answer.
He walked to her tent and stuck his head in. Steph's eyes were closed. "Steph?"
Her eyes opened and John started. The corneas were yellow and her pupils had shrunk to dots.
"J--John? I can't see," she coughed.
He stepped further into the tent and squatted beside her. A thin line of blood escaped the corner of her mouth.
"Stay with me, Steph." He pulled a dirty shirt from her laundry pile and dabbed at the blood. "Stay with me."
"He visited me last night."
John cocked an eyebrow. "Who? Linton?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Then who?"
A runner of blood ran down her from her left nostril. She licked her lips and groaned.
"Eyes," she whispered. "The eyes. The smell. God, John. I've never been so scared."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"The Utukku," said said in a broken voice. Steph coughed and a spray of blood hit John's chest. "It was here."
He shivered, but managed to keep his face calm. "What do you mean the Utukku?"
"It came into my tent." Steph's face scrunched in pain. A roadmap of blood vessels burst in her right eye. The whites slowly disappeared as the crimson flooded its surface. "It was here."
John shook his head. "No, darlin. That was just a hallucination."
She coughed again and a foul odor escaped her lips. He recoiled from the smell of rotten meat and diseased tissue.
"No." Steph spat a tooth to the side. "Real." Her left hand, flesh sliding off the bone, rose to point at a spot behind him.
The big man whirled around and stared where her fingers indicated. His breath froze in his lungs. On the inside of the tent was a small black and grey hand-print. It looked wet and dried at the same time. He turned back to Steph.
Her lips were open in a pained grimace.
"Steph?"
She exhaled in a deep rattle of breath. She did not take another.
"Steph?" John shook her body. The skin on her left shoulder peeled off like rotted bark. Blood and black fluid oozed out. Through the sludge he could see the white of bone.
"STEPH!" he screamed in her face. Her eyes continued to stare at the handprint on the tent and her pupils had disappeared completely. John shuffled back from her on his knees. Her cheeks started to cave in, exposing rotted teeth and a black tongue. He stepped out of the tent and stumbled into the morning light.
8
THE black blanket which once wrapped the mummy lay on the ground. It was covered in a dark, dried ooze and free of sand. The sigils were scattered across the ground and the caps had been shattered.
John's cough was a rattle in his chest. Lamashtu. The diseased one. He shook his head. "No, that's crazy," he mumbled to himself. "Linton?"
There was no response from the man's tent. John turned and walked carefully to the tent. He fought to keep his balance and managed to keep from falling down twice. The third time, his foot hit one of the tent pegs and sent him sprawling to the hard dirt pack.
He spit sand and blood. A rattling groan escaped his lips. He
Similar Books
Minerva's Voyage
Lynne Kositsky
Working God's Mischief
Glen Cook
Captive
L. J. Smith
Phantom Angel
David Handler
Bash, Volume III
Candace Blevins
Unmasking Elena Montella
Victoria Connelly
Embrace of the Enemy (Winds of Betrayal)
Jerri Hines
The Secret of the Caves
Franklin W. Dixon
Pretty Wanted
Elisa Ludwig
The 120 Days of Sodom
Marquis de Sade