The Rift
“The Rift” is an excerpt from a longer piece currently in progress.
Ryan released his best friend from his embrace, gently rested his head against the wall and closed his lifeless eyes.
“Rest well comrade”, Ryan whispered.
He knew he wasn’t. He was worrying about his wife, his kids-. Leaning forward he pressed his forehead against Laurius’ for the last, time before kissing his brow.
“I’m so sorry-”.
Ryan stood, his back to the last survivors of this once bustling metropolis, and lowered his helm. He couldn’t afford to let them see his dread-filled tears. They stood in silence. He holstered Laurius’ blade in his belt, and strode towards the door. His once pristine, ruby red armor scraped and clanked as he moved across the room. Plasma and lighting began to spark from the blades at his side and on his back, before erupting in a flurry of magic as he drew them from their sheaths. They were Flamberges, each at least a hand and a half with an undulating blade pattern towards the middle of the sword. Bronze bull’s heads decorated the hilts of each blade and reflected the mingling, swirling, superheated miasma.
“Move”, he said, and the people stepped aside and behind his protection.
Yesterday, Ryan and Laurius were out drinking too late. Laurius’ biggest worry was his wife’s reprimanding. Ryan’s was Laurius’ reprimanding for keeping him out so late -again- and for bedding another barmaid. Now though-. On the other side of that door, rifts were puking monsters into the building, flooding the halls and filling the streets with unnatural abominations. He could hear their shrieks when they tore into each other and smelled the feces and rot as they started to claw the door apart. Some were monstrosities dumped in through these ungodly holes. Others were once people: only waves of rage and flesh now.
None of these people had any chance of answers about the rifts, let alone escaping this place alive. There was a safe room at the end of this hallway however, and if he could make it there with these last few people in tow, then they could at least die in peace. It wasn’t much, but it was more than he could offer his men; more than he could offer Laurius.
Ryan leaned back and kicked the door down hard into the creatures on the other side. Reprieve was at the end of this hallway. Through them. Trills and cries pierced the air in the corridor. Naked, gaunt figures, bits of their own bowels and feces dripping out of them, charged Ryan, spattering the walls with shit and blood. The rifts resonated with their fury and churned out monstrosities by the dozen. His grip tightened and his blades ignited as he swept wide, furious arcs into the horde. Ryan had been given a name by his comrades. They called him the Immovable, and as fluids seeped from under the door and pooled around his feet, he roared and lifted a massive behemoth impaled on both blades high above his head.
“ By god, I’ll live up to it!” he thundered.
He threw the beast down, squashing several more beneath. With a flourish, he sliced two more into pieces and forced his way deeper into the crying masses of flesh. They pushed back, throwing themselves into him. Time after time they met his twirling blades, but there were so many and he was starting to feel their weight as they piled on him. Ryan’s eyes darted around the cramped space desperate for a way to hold back the deluge. Then it struck him, as the gnashing jaws of what had once been a man snapped him back to focus. It’s mouth cracked on his metal bracer and it screamed out bits of blood and teeth before digging its mutated nails into Ryan’s shoulder. He yelled in pain before splattering it into the wall with his shoulder. Ear splitting squeals and hollers erupted from the excited, raging horde at the scent of his blood and the sound of his pain. They ran towards Ryan and his wards wild berserkers, flailing and snapping.
Ryan’s brow furrowed. In a moment they would be everywhere, every side, every angle, covered in them. Thoughts of his flesh tearing and the horde desecrating those people rushed through his mind. In a single motion, Ryan wound back both of his swords and swung them as hard and fast as he could. Lightning crackled and then the smell of ozone and burnt hair wafted through the air as walls crumbled and monsters rolled and spilled out in pieces across the floor.
“Run! Go!” Ryan yelled to the people as he rushed to block the doorway to the final rift. He braced himself and his sword across the opening as he saw more things start spewing forth. In seconds, he could feel them all shoving, squeezing their freshly dropped brethren against his body and blade. They pushed so hard and close that it was impossible to differentiate the snapping and scraping of the monsters crushing each other from what may have been his own bones and armor. All Ryan could focus on, all he needed to know, was when the last person crossed the threshold of that room.
One, two, three made it.
“C’mon…”, he grunted.
Four.
“C’mon!”, he yelled straining under the weight.
Five. He was done. He swung around and dove into the room. The door slammed behind him, as the hordes smashed into it and heavy iron bars locked it shut. They were finally safe, at least. Deep, hot tears dripped on the cool floor in front of his face as he lay on the ground. Every bit of his body hurt. But Laurius wasn’t here to hurt beside him.
