As
Jack fell, he caught a glimpse of the top-hated carnie that kicked him
back into the shambling horde of side show freaks. Strangely their
bloated and mangled bodies protected him from greater damage. The one
beneath him perished in a fit of snapping bones and jagged screams.
Three others were knocked aside.
This gave him just enough time to get to his feet and yell, “You want me so bad, come on!”
Then
his axe cut huge paths through the disfigured mass of freaks. Under
normal circumstances, Jack would have felt pity for such tortured
creatures, but regardless of their past state, the Xemmoni had corrupted
their souls. It might not have been fair, but Jack knew that pain
filled hearts became Darkened easier than most and the evil eyes that
glared at him from forty skulls confirmed this.
Jack
stepped into his wild swings and then drew back and braced himself. He
tried to keep moving and the foe wouldn’t grow too thick, but within
seconds he was forced back into the dead end. Bodies had already piled
at his feet, but the horrid enemy came in waves. Elongated arms lost
their hands and fat heads coved in odd growths were split in half.
Hands, nails, claws, and ratty teeth tore at him. With most of his
jacket already destroyed, he had only his hardened flesh of Yig to fall
back on. So far it kept him alive, but the numbers grew overwhelming.
His
eyes darted toward the opening he had carved overhead. So close, but it
might has well been on the other side of this Yig-forsaken town. There
was no way he could fight his way free of this press and make it up
there without the freaks pulling him back down.
He
braced a heel against the wall of the dead end, took a deep breath, and
then roared. It was the roar of the savage fighting to keep from being
devoured, the Viking storming the shores on an unknown land, the cave
dweller defending his mate.
The
freaks withdrew for a moment, but then the carnie’s voice shouted down.
“At him, rend the flesh from his bones or his fate will be yours!”
Then they came.
Like
a tidal wave of flesh, they descended at him. Midgets mixed with
giants. Some had too few limbs, while others had twice the amount they
should.
Jack
unleashed with a primitive fury. His eyes glowed with the green of Yig
while his axe ripped through them in bloody arcs. They fell by the half
dozen, but still pressing in. Soon their blood painted his body. Drops
of crimson flew from the ends of his hair and rolled down his arms in
strings, which mixed with his own more often than not.
Still
they came. A nightmare of mutated flesh. Mouths snapped where hands
should be. Bodies seemed to flow and join together until he couldn’t be
sure where one enemy started and another ended. All the while they
hammered and gibbered, clutched and bit.
The
sea of flesh parted to let a thundering form charge him. Big enough to
be five men, the circus fat-man lurched toward him. Its blubber bounced
in stench-ridden waves the size of his thigh. The foul head resting
above the swollen form seemed overly small and insane laughter erupted
from a mouth full of splintered teeth. Hands the size of baked turkeys
slapped together, like they already anticipated tearing him apart. To be
caught in those hands would mean his death.
Some times in life you have to do something stupid to stay alive.
Jack threw the axe at the thing’s head.
The
move was so unexpected the fat-man had no chance to block the steel
headed missile and the mighty axe split its skull. The pale mountain of
obesity toppled backwards with a drawn out moan and killed four of his
former allies when he crushed them flat.
Another
oversized freak had been following the fat-man. This was a hairy giant
that could have been mistaken for a Bigfoot. No clothes concealed the
layers and layers of course matted hair that sprung from the towering
figure’s form. Its gait and profile both had an apish feel, as thought
this creature was a throwback to an earlier predecessor of man. This
eight foot tall giant tore the axe out of his fallen friend with a roar
and turned to face Jack.
But Jack was already moving.
Between
the minions of freaks moving aside for the fat-man and then being
either crushed or cut off from him but its colossal bunk, Jack had a few
feet of clearance around him. Drawing his hand axe, he raced up onto
the chest of the boated corpse and jumped onto the top of the maze’s
wall he had so recently perched from. Losing his balance, he began to
topple back toward the giant axe welder and his remaining freakish
followers, but the hook of his hand axe lashed out and caught on the lip
of the hole he had cut into the ceiling.
“Oh
I don’t think so,” the carnie said and Jack heard boots thumping toward
him. At the same time, he spotted something he hadn’t slowed down long
enough to notice before.
The exit.
From where he stayed perched, he could see the exit to the maze.
Behind
him the hairy giant prepared a blow that would cut him in two, while
above him the booted foot lined up to kick his hand axe away.
With
a yell, Jack reversed the grip on his hand axe and sent it cutting into
the carnie’s shin. This caused the bastard to scream as Jack flung
himself over the wall—seconds before the Bigfoot’s axe cut through the
air where he had been.
He
hit the floor on the other side of the wall and sprinted toward the
maze’s exit. The hairy freak and its foul fellows gave chase, but he
found the exit and hurried through. After frantically searching for a
door he could shut, but finding none, he raced forward. Jack quickly
traveled past what he guessed was the empty freak show. Once through the
cages and filthy display cases, he found a staircase in the back going
up.
The undulating horde of flesh followed from behind while the carnie and other tribulations waited for him ahead.
Jack wiped the lingering blood from his eyes and pressed on.
To be continued next Monday
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