by zane olesen
A lone warrior, after a monumental battle, struggles to find meaning in a New World.
|The slimy halitosis of the beast beckoned madness. Its unholy green eyes twinkled in gleeful lunacy.
His hearted blasted away in his fatigued chest. The effort to pump air through his quivering lungs pushed him to the brink of bloody resignation.
The air swooshed over his head as he ducked to avoid the creature’s massive spiked paw.
Stinging sweat mingled with blood, and unthinkable gore adorned his entire body.
As the mad abomination coiled, to strike again, he tightened his grip on his debased sword and plunged with the last of his strength.
He collapsed losing his sword. As he tumbled to the earth, cushioned wetly with the spoils of genocide, he saw the beast impaled to the hilt.
The beast splashed onto the slaughter ground next to him. Thrashing wildly he watched it dispassionately as the eerie emerald light of insanity dimmed from the creature’s eye.
He lay on the grisly field convulsing from exhaustion.
He resurrected himself from the fresh slaughter ground and surveyed the world he had fought for.
Though high-noon the skies, stained with the soot of corrupt science, crackled with a rainbow of lethal colors.
Squinting his tortured eyes to see beyond the field of carnage provided no relief, no hope. The smashed, broken, and dismembered bodies of untold thousands of humans and twisted evolutionary mutilations stretched beyond his ability to see.
This was the final battle. The last group of humans and twisted mutants remaining on earth.
The war had started long before he was born. Science, technology made great advancements in recombinant DNA and of course the weapons of war.
Corrupt governments and smug scientists experimented with things, and on things, they should never had. They opened a Pandora’s box of self-evolutionary DNA gone berserk.
At first it was a subject of great interest and research these freakish bizarre mutations. However things got beyond man and his science and weapons.
It started with isolated breakouts at testing facilities around the globe. Clashes with local law enforcement escalated to packs of abominations attacking campers, tourists, and patrols.
The National Guard was soon called up. But runaway genetically enhanced mutants had exploded in numbers and varieties.
The ill-perceived genetic research did not lead to advancing of any creature. Nothing like the childishly ignorant X-Men of a bygone age of innocent entertainment. No these were the fleshy manifestations of man’s sin of arrogance.
Soon a great war was underway. An extravagant expenditure of lethal resources was brought to bear by both sides. The twisted mutations procreated wildly enabling them to flourish in a war of such magnitude and attrition.
Decades would pass before some realized that technology was disappearing rapidly to feed the pangs of global genocide.
Then the point of no return had come. Then it was too late. Man realized he was fighting for the survival of his species. All energy had to be expended to ensure humankind would inherit the earth.
He was but a child when he heard the tale of the last use of a gun on the battlefield.
He had been an infant when the breathing ill spawn managed to enter atomic facilities and unleash new horrors of grandeur.
It was perhaps a decade past when they were reduced to literally beating plowshares into swords and other destructive ironies.
But it was over now. He was the last standing. A human.
He wanted to break down and mourn the loss of his acquaintances. They hadn’t known each other long enough to become friends. They had been thrust together in man’s darkest hour out of the instinctive need to preserve mankind. They had all perished.
Even the woman, whom he daydreamed of being with, when this was over, was dead. He had only talked with her once, but it was enough to build a castle-in-the-air.
He steeled himself. Their sacrifice would not go in vain. He would force himself to find a reason for the ultimate selfless sacrifice they made. He owed that to all.
He woodenly placed one foot in front of the other and trudged towards the horizon.
Traversing mutilated necropolises and plains fertilized with the chunky residue of slaughter. The dull poisoned days turned to nights haunted by neon sparkles of disease.
He nourished himself on unthinkable things. Their sacrifice would not be in vain.
The great mountains rose to defy him with their wounds. He persevered.
Descending down out of the persecuted hills he came upon the sea. He stood on the shore and stared to the horizon.
The debris-decorated surf beckoned him. He longed for the sea’s baptism.
He found a blemished piece of plastic, which might have been the wall to a child’s play pen.
He pushed the plastic into the sea and scrambled on top and kicked his way to the horizon. He had seen a blue patch of sky shining on a speck of green land on the horizon.
A storm settled in and buffeted him. The foul brine of the sea washed over him. He felt cleaner then he could remember. He loved the tempest. Sleep came upon him. He dreamt of wonderful things.
When he awoke he realized he had washed ashore face down in warm white sand. It felt so relaxing. He sleepily pushed himself up. In front of his face was a pair of feet. They were beautiful, petite and slender, with black varnish ornamenting the nails. He thought it would be too good to be a female. He risked a glance upwards.
His heart jumped in his throat. Looking upon him was the most gorgeous girl smiling at him. Her oval face was crowned in silky black hair. Behind her the sun shone, in a blue sky, around her like she was an angel.
As she genuflected by his side he smiled back.
He was deafened by his own shrieks as she began feeding upon his face.
As he slipped away to the sounds of chittering he could see a scaly tail whipping behind her lovely face.