Endangered Ch. 09

It shattered on impact, spewing out little droplets of liquid fire in the same technique he'd learned from his encounter with the elf pyro-mage. Perhaps it wasn't the most prudent idea, because he had to step back, crowding everyone further into the wall to get away from the flames.

"Woah, it's only burning the paper," Kat was the first to notice the fire's strange behaviour.

Sure enough, the errant purple flames coalesced, stalking in on the already blackening paper like a pack of hunting dogs. They all watched in satisfaction as the handprint caught, turning the flames a verdant green for a few short moments. No flash of broken magic, no evil cackling voice, nothing.

The spectacle wasn't over though. Chris watched in fascination as his magical flames dimmed, turned, and began snaking up the edge of the altar cloth. He took a step forward as it neared the top, wondering what he'd unleashed on the world and how he could stop it.

"Leave it," Michelle said. "It's going for the other one."

She was right. While the flames had blackened the cloth they'd used to travel toward their malicious target, they weren't spreading. He then realised it had been an incredibly stupid idea to start a fire here while they were trapped in the building. At least he had the Ether as an escape route.

There was a collective intake of breath as his flames finally met the huge piece of thick, tough paper. The flames lapped at the edges but couldn't seem to get a firm grip. The paper began to curl into itself almost protectively. He fed the fire, dumping magic into it through his outstretched hand until the entire altar top was ablaze and purple flames lapped the plastered ceiling.

No one could see through the conflagration, but when they saw the flames begin to tint green, they knew it was working. Tentative smiles grew on faces for the first time since their disgusting ordeal began.

It started as a hoarse, dry sound. Chris noticed it first, but it soon grew around them as the parchment burned. A mumbled scratching, joined a few moments later by a loud wooden thump as a pew out in the nave was knocked to the floor.

***

Six hundred kilometres to the south west, a short, greying man startled awake in the back of an old bus. He licked his dry lips, noting that the sweaty passengers had given him a wide berth as he slept.

A little smile crossed his lips at the thought. They didn't know why they left him alone in such a crowded bus, not even daring to put their livestock next to him. Perhaps it was his dark aura, or perhaps they'd just thought he must be crazy to wear a suit in the heat.

He frowned. Something had woken him.

It was gone. The connection cut prematurely rather than left to run its course. No matter, the most vital of their essence was safely in his briefcase. He patted the dark leather box at his side happily, a rich haul that one. He'd been a very bad man.

A grunt of amusement rose inside him, making an old toothless woman with a goat in her lap look at him askance. Whoever had been foolish enough to break his spell was in for a nasty surprise.

He put the briefcase on his lap, twirling the tumblers until it clicked open. Inside, he rifled through stack of unusual brownish paper cards. He flipped one, revealing a livid red hand print. His finger stroked over the sheet almost lovingly, testing for some unquantifiable property.

Yes. There was plenty of energy left in those bodies. They were in for a nasty surprise indeed.

***

Pamela shot the first walking corpse through the eye before anyone else realised what was happening. Livid red gunk exploded from the back of its head, pulsing with unnatural energy as it splattered against the white wall.

In the quiet after the gunshot, the flames on the altar died quickly. Of the enchanted paper, only a fine grey powder remained. The corpses it had been magically linked to however, were rising from the ground on unsteady, swollen feet. Perhaps the first shambler had been the owner of the discarded sheet on the floor, freed by the dragon's flames before his fellow congregation.

Regardless, it appeared a 5.56 mm round to the head didn't pack enough punch. They all watched in stunned horror as it stumbled back a pace, rocking. The creature opened its mouth, revealing a pulsing, gaping, glowing maw. It took a hesitant step forward, a dry, quiet moan issuing forth to the horrified group.

With a short burst of automatic fire, the freckled blond put six more bullets through the man's chest. She followed with another tap of her trigger, one final slug destroying the side of his half-rotten head. By the grace of all things living, he went down.

Chris couldn't believe what he'd just seen. His ears rang terribly from the gunfire, his mind was reeling. Everything he knew about magic, everything his dragon knew, screamed that it was impossible. It was wrong, and he was horrified.

All hell broke loose as Kat levelled her automatic shotgun at the first rape victim to rise. This one didn't stumble or shuffle closer, it leapt. Her buckshot slapped the blackened corpse from the air, tumbling it into the front of the altar with a loud crunch. Chris looked to either side in a daze as Michelle and Lisa began picking targets amongst the dark masses rising in the aisle and pews. This couldn't be happening.

Luminous, unnaturally red fluid dripped across the floor and walls. Metal ripped through the animated bodies, tearing holes and chunks that were largely ignored.

"Chris, we're being overwhelmed!" Michelle shouted at him over the crack-crack-crack of Pamela's disciplined three round bursts. "Get us out of here!"

It was true. The shambling mass of rotten, red-filled bodies was pressing in even as he saw two faster dark figures lead a column of slow shufflers out the main entrance of the church. Then the much more substantial 7.62 mm pills of the terrified soldiers outside began flying into the building. Uncaring of target once they were freed, the heavy bullets zipped through wood, flesh, and even cinder block with ease.

One grazed across his cheek, vaporising half of his ear. Pamela screamed beside him, falling to the floor as her right shin exploded, the bullet punching straight through her.

He ducked, reaching to grip his wounded squadmate as she clutched her leg in agony. They were too spread out, too focused on firing into the wall of advancing zombies for him to pull them all into the Ether. Whoever was left behind would be mauled in seconds.

Another round zipped over his head, punching straight through the cinder wall they were backing into. Michelle cursed, blood dripping down the side of her face from shards of shattered concrete. Chris only saw the little pinhole, through which the outside world, and sanity, beckoned.

He charged with a mighty roar, magic swelling in him, responding to his pain and his fear. The dragon welled up, a little cowed, but all the more vicious and resourceful for his brush with mortality.

The cinder block wall buckled outward, spewing rubble onto the lush grass of the cemetery beyond. Armour, cloth, and leather exploded as his body swelled. In a purple shimmer, he grew to its forty-five foot draconian glory in less than two seconds.

Colonel Otero watched in awe, zombies forgotten, as the broad, adder-like purple head of the dragon snaked back through the hole.

"Get down!" the beast rumbled commandingly as he opened his great, toothy maw.

That was all the warning they got. Two beams of blinding pinkish light guttered into existence, scything across the top of the shufflers. Heads, torsos and limbs flopped wetly to the floor, instantly cauterised.

"Quick, retreat through the breach!" Michelle unceremoniously shoved Sam past the dragon's sinuous neck onto the thick lawn. Already, another rank of corpses crowded up around the altar as the severed halves of their companions oriented themselves and began crawling ever onward.

Otero and the bloodied translator didn't need to be told twice, they rabbited out as fast as they could. Michelle, Lisa and Kat managed a more dignified fighting retreat as the dragon latched his teeth into Pamela's backpack and began tugging her out of danger.

He had to admire the wounded woman's tenacity. She was still firing with accuracy as her blood leaked away in pulses from a severed artery. When she looked up and saw an enormous purple dragon dragging her away, she dropped the magazine she'd been holding and lunged for her rifle case. He ended up tugging her none to gently back through the hole as she screamed in defiance and agony, her leg flopping uselessly behind but her prized gun was safe beside her.

"Bite this, motherfuckers!" Kat screamed as she under-armed an M67 back into the writhing mass of unnaturally sanguine flesh.

Chris turned his huge body, shielding Pamela from the explosion. Unfortunately, his flailing tail clipped Michelle right in the chest, sending her flying winded across the lawn.

The grenade went off, hot steel fragments careening through the densely packed mob trying to overcome the obstacle presented by the altar. It was not as effective as the Marine had hoped, barely seconds later, a swaying, rotten corpse loomed in the hole of their broken wall. She punched him backward with an automatic burst of high speed ball-bearings, running the magazine dry.

With more care this time, he dragged his wounded charge away from danger before he turned to assess what to do next. Sam was helping Michelle unsteadily to her feet while Kat and Lisa took up positions and took turns firing and reloading. The FBI agent's pistol barked rapidly, delivering lead to head with Olympian efficiency. Otero was helping, standing firm now, firing occasionally with his pistol as he snapped commands into his handheld radio.

Chris was about to rejoice that they weren't getting tagged with friendly fire any more when a burst of automatic fire tracked across his purple flank and spine. He bellowed a roar of pain as one of the bullets wedged unluckily between his scales and sank into his side right at the transition from softer cream to hard purple.

He swivelled his neck, but found the Colonel rushing to stand in front of him as one of the squads he'd called for backup ran around the side of the church with their guns levelled. The officer was screaming at his men, pointing at the shuffling bodies threatening to pour out of the breach. The men obeyed, firing into the church with only occasional backward glances at the purple dragon.

Finally, he got a chance to look at Pamela's ruined leg. She was in bad shape. Both bones in her shin were snapped, he could see white fragments sticking out through the meaty mess. She looked up at his cocked head in confusion as he leaned forward and began lapping.

"Are you eating me?" he felt the hot metal of her gun barrel press into his thick neck.

"I'm trying to heal you," he rumbled deeply, stilling his forked tongue least she take offence.

"Oh. Well then, as you were, dragon. I'll reload a few magazines while you're blocking my view."

She did just that, pulling off her backpack to find the extra ammunition for her assault rifle as he pushed as much of his healing saliva into her wound as he could.

He watched the fight through one gold flecked eye. Finally, it seemed that overwhelming firepower was prevailing. Fewer legless torsos clawed their way forward, fewer still had use of their legs. It looked like the soldiers had figured out that was the best way to slow them down. No legs, no walking, no running, and definitely no fucking jumping. Hopefully, the men on the other side of the building were faring as well.

Twitching, rotting corpses were beginning to pile up now. They leaked their filthy, infectious soup of magical red stuff even if they no longer moved or made their terrible moaning. There was so much, it flowed out onto the rubble strewn grass, pooling and slowly spreading.

When her leg stopped seeping fresh blood, he realised that he needed to end it once and for all.

"Tell your men not to shoot me," he growled at the translator as he slunk back toward the ruined church.

He felt into the Ether, sparking one of his black orbs into life. He should have done this from the start if he'd known what was good for him. It grew big under his urging, hungry and soulless, devouring dirt, church, grass, and scarlet glop without prejudice.

The report of gunfire ceased entirely when the orb grew larger than the roof of the church. He advanced, raking it back and forth, stripping the top meter of soil and everything above as he went. Kat and Lisa moved into position on either side of him as he worked. A pair of warrior angels ready to defend him.

When he'd swallowed the whole building with his magic, he raised the orb so he could see the terrified soldiers on the other side. A couple of them shouldered their rifles at him but word had spread and their comrades quickly set them straight.

They had fared worse on this side of the building, caught off guard when the agile blackened women leapt amongst them. Three green uniformed bodies now twitched on the dirt path amongst the vanquished dead, covered in bite marks and vile red stuff.

"Get back," he warned the gawking, rattled soldiers as he brought the orb back down to scoop up the zombified remains, dead soldiers and all.

Stripping the entire area down to bedrock to make sure nothing escaped seemed like a good idea so he did the best he could, filling the orb with an ever widening circle of matter. Finally, he felt the pressure building inside as it became overfilled and the mass within excited.

He fired his plasma breath into it twice, exhausting his strange little glands then letting them recharge. The men sat down to watch in disbelief while the angels crowded around Pamela and fashioned a splint to immobilise her leg. When he was satisfied, he gave a few experimental flaps of his wings before launching into the sky. He circled once, gaining altitude over the jungle before he slipped himself into the Ether.

The orb had done its job admirably so he changed the parameters to stop sucking in every particle it touched. In the Norm, the black sphere became a perfect mirror as light stopped racing in and began scattering off its surface. It reflected a distorted image off its curved surface back to the watching humans as it rose into the sky.

Up, up, up, he dragged the huge orb, a writhing purple here in the Ether. The inside of it was molten, but he wasn't taking any chances. Something told him it would be very bad if even a tiny amount of that red shit escaped destruction. Even his plasma wasn't guarantee enough for him. Up he pulled, straining under the load as he flapped up through the featureless grey nothingness of Ether sky.

In the upper atmosphere, there was even less nothing for his wings to grip. It was all his dragon's flight magic then, pushing him slowly forward through force of will. In an exhausted epiphany, he made a mental note to examine how gravity worked in the Ether. But that would have to wait.

When he could rise no more, he pushed the purple orb, flinging it outward with all his might. It shrank away quickly, accelerating incredibly under his instruction. Light headed from exhaustion and lack of air, he allowed himself to plummet back toward the green expanse of rainforest.

As he fell, he felt the orb reach his specified velocity and wink out. The contents would be floating for a good long while with their inherited momentum. Hopefully they crashed into the side of Jupiter, or better yet, the sun.

He phased back into the village to startled shouts and cheers, a brace of huge river catfish hanging from his mouth.

***

"What now?" he yawned, his bloodied head resting in her lap as they bumped slowly back down the gradually improving road toward the city. His belly was full of fish, he ached, and he just wanted to curl up and sleep for days.

"In about four..." Michelle, lifted her tablet to check. "No, two minutes, those jets are going to drop six thousand pounds of laser guided explosives on what's left of that village."

"No, I mean what now? I'm not sure I can manage to take you all back to the States tonight. I'm pooped."

"Idiot," she laughed, running her hand into his messy hair. "I've never heard of anything so ridiculous. So paranoid you lobbed thirty tonnes of perfectly impoverished topsoil and a whole church into space."

"I brought my bikini," Kat said hopefully from beside them.

"So did I," Michelle smiled down at him. "Want to see?"