Changeling

The arid desert sky clutched at my dry throat. Under the weight of fifty pounds of gear, my body now refused to sweat. In the streets below, the sounds of braying farm animals mixed with the rattles and chugs of gunfire. My spotter, Eric, and I finally clomped up the remaining stairs and cautiously entered the hotel room. Thankfully it was empty. We dropped our packs and brought a small table from the center of the room closer to the back wall of the room. We had a clear view of the long, torn city street below. I prepared my rifle, setting the bipod height and zeroing my sights for wind and humidity. Eric prepared similarly next to me, zeroing his rangefinder and focusing on the street below. My mind wandered, taking me to the past where the dark things I had seen and had done lurked in anticipation for my return. It felt as if this desert had gnawed on my soul until nothing remained of it, and yet I had failed to notice, distracted by the slaughter I committed, the violence concealing my vicious pain. I had killed with purpose and without, on command and invariably leading myself to become nothing more than a killing machine with the rank of corporal. Those I had slain mattered little now, taking a seat to the importance of the present. My spotter Eric was in the present, and as soon as he had my attention he started rattling off a complex string of coordinates combined with a general description of the area. I locked onto my victim. The insurgent carried the long tube of an RPG on his shoulder, aiming at one of our company’s HUMVEEs. The tube spat out a flaming tail as the man fired the rocket into the vehicle. The vehicle exploded and shrapnel shattered one of the windows of our room. I turned my attention from the chaos of the explosion back to the man, who was preparing another rocket. My mind cleared, the sounds around me falling silent, my vision tunneling until all that my mind contained was cold calculation. Wind speed, distance, drop calculations, and humidity changes all flashed through my skull. I quickly adjusted my aim and smoothly pulled the trigger. A split second later the insurgent bust into a blood splatter as the large 30.06 round tore a hole through him.

I looked towards Eric in anticipation of the next target. But Eric was missing. “Eric?!” I called out, standing. Then I spotted Eric. His body was being thrown by convulsions, and blood gushed from his throat. “Fuck! No! Eric!” I screamed moving to go to him. Then my vision flickered black and refocused. My head throbbed with dizziness, and I fell to the ground. I looked at Eric, then at my own body. I, too, was covered in blood. I now noticed a thousand gushing wounds where the flying glass of the broken window had punctured my body. Weakness slacking my limbs, I crawled painfully to Eric’s side. His face was paling quickly, and the convulsions had begun to weaken as Eric’s body slowly submitted to death. His eyes blankly stared at the ugly hotel room ceiling. His lips gurgled something incomprehensible, and his eyes glossed over. Then he went slack, dead. I began to weep, weep deeply like a child. My own blood began to stir with Eric’s, and soon the reality of war was fading, replaced by a blissful land of paradise.

I strolled through a field of tall, fragrant grasses and wild flowers. I spotted a massive, lush oak tree on a nearby hill. Under the tree I saw the figure of a woman, graceful and sweet. Her silhouette spread a blanket upon the ground. I started towards the hill, realizing that I carried a picnic basket on my left arm and a wine bottle in my right hand. I was dressed in a comfortable pair of dark blue jeans and an old gray t-shirt. I was barefoot and the cool grass underfoot brushed jokingly against my toes. As I neared the picnic blanket, I could see the woman more clearly now, how her sun dress flattered her eyes and how her hair flirted with the flowers it contained. It came to my mind that her name was Sarah, a gentle name for a gentle girl. She laughed quietly as I stumbled up the hill, being my clumsy self. We sat on the blanket, the sun streaming through the deep green of the leaves below, the light warming the soft fabric. I cracked the seal on the wine, the deep aroma of fermented grapes perfuming the air as Sarah laid out our feast. Sandwiches and salads, pickles and apples, an assortment of all imaginable delicacies had been arranged upon the blanket. We ate heartily, making merry conversation, the sounds of chirping birds dancing past our ears. We ran after each other through the amber fields. We gallivanted through the forest, chasing the sprites of our happiness through the twists and turns of the wooded knoll. We were young once more, dripping with innocence. We fought dragons with sticks and conquered armies with pebbles. We created cities using nothing but our imaginations and the sand on the river bank. We imagined that we ruled the world, and when we had seen all we could on earth, we explored the long depths of space, traveling in a spaceship crafted of an old hollow tree. But most of all, we loved. We loved one another, and life, too. We loved the breeze through the trees, and we loved the trickle of the stream we had found. Time seemed to pass over an eternity, yet was gone all at once. We napped lightly under our picnic tree, wrapped tightly in each other’s embrace, exhausted from our endeavors. The waning sun began to cascade to the horizon, sending pinpoints of light through the trees on the horizon. Finally the sun slipped away and darkness temporarily consumed our world for a brief moment, only to be replaced by the light of a billion miniscule sunny days elsewhere in the universe. We slept, dreams dragging us deeper into the depths of fantasy.

When I awoke, I could feel my muscles tense and shift. I stood over Eric, who had long turned cold from his wounds. I was on all fours, and I tried to rise, but fell back to the floor. Suddenly I yelped as a thousand memories bombarded my brain. I saw flashes of people’s faces in my mind’s eye, some screaming and begging, while others still accepted what came to them. I saw Death upon his horse beckon me to walk by his side centuries ago. I saw the Black Angels I commanded as legions, and I saw the work they did. I saw it was I who followed Death upon his horse in the shadowed valley. I saw it was I who had torn the evil soul from Attila the Hun. It was I who had gnawed the throat of Hitler after his demise. I was the first Hell Hound. I was Hades.

I rose to my full height. I stood four feet at my shoulder, and my muscles bulged beneath my dark coat of fur. My skin was torn and maimed, showing my bones in places, the skin of an ancient beast that had seen many regrettable things. My teeth were long and jagged, dripping with a solution of blood and saliva. My vision was shifting, lightning bolts splitting my eyes. The pain subsided, and I lost all remnants of my former humanity. I now saw the world in off shades of dark blues and purples, splattered with white high-lightings and black voids. I glared at the street below. Soldiers still fought against insurgents, but they no longer mattered. I saw the soul-self of the man I had shot while human. His soul screamed in terror, confused and lost. Instinct kicked in, and I leapt out of the window. I landed on the pavement below with a dull thud. The four-story fall did nothing to my immortal body, for I was a tool of Death.

I sauntered towards the screaming soul, ready to slaughter the man a second time and throw him to the depths of hell. Only Death or I could throw souls into hell. The Black Angels were the reapers of the good, taking them elsewhere for eternity. I circled the man, growling deeply. He was crying, begging for mercy. He bowed on his knees in futile attempts to appease me. I had become the ultimate in killing efficiency. I intended to utilize my new skills. I sprung forwards, and the man fell onto his back. My strong jaws crushed his bones and shredded his flesh. My claws dug through his gut, and I gripped his ribcage from its bottom, the structure tight in my jaws. I snapped my head down shattering the bones and severing them from the man’s body. He tried to beat me off with his arm, but I promptly snatched it from the air and ate the flesh off it, finishing his arm by biting off his hand. Finally I tore the man’s throat out and banished him to the fire pits with a swift kick form my hind legs. The man was torn from this earthly dimension and dragged into a swirling vortex of flames. The man disappeared and the portal quickly burned out.

I followed Death until the last days of eternity. I saw the fall of civilization. I razed the evil of the earth and send them to their judgment. As my legacy I left fear and loss, giving no soul leniency for their acts. No truce could be made, no plea could appease me. For I was Hades, and knew no mercy in my being. I existed to please Death and command the Black Angels to devour the scourge and collect the righteous of the earth. In my labor I found what I once was and will always be: nothing more than a killing machine with the rank of corporal.