A Beast with a Smile
Chapter 25 (Scarlett): The World’s Shadow

Archy’s face was not doing so hot. When we landed he absorbed the parachute and produced some antibiotic cream some war bandages. The aftermath was that the fourteen-year-old looked like a mummy with acne spots.

I had to hold him down so that he would let me get the glass shards and splinters out of his face. He tried to say he was fine, but he could barely get the words out without shrieking in agony.

I asked him if he wanted me to get the glass out and of course he cried, “No! It doesn’t...hurt...just...forget...it.”

I let him have his pride at first; I saw how much he hated his inventions not working correctly and I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of Clark.

When I saw the blood begin to drip through his mummy bandages, I tackled him and ripped the white bandages from his face. I began to carefully pull the glass shards out one at a time. He screamed, begged and cried for me to stop until he passed out from the pain.

“Did you kill him?” Clark asked, poking him with the end of his shield.

“No. I’m pretty sure I just saved him.”

“Are you sure? He looks pretty dead,” he challenged with a look of disconcert.

I smiled at his cute little face.

He is so innocent for being around such tragedy.

The ground where we landed was mostly soot and dead shrubbery. I wasn’t sure if it was black sand or massacred soil that spread far out of eyes reach. The dunes of black grime stretched out in every direction, seemingly never ending with the rain.

Clark dragged a small, murky log over to Archy’s body and perched over his friend, waiting for him to wake up. He rested his shield over his neck and stretched it over Archy’s face.

“Can’t have him drown on us,” he smiled with a missing front tooth.

“How old are you?” I inquired.

“I turn six in three months,” he cheered while showing me his age with his fingers.

“So how does a five-year-old stow away on a super dangerous mission in a cardboard box?” I asked.

He scratched his chin and looked at me suspiciously.

“It’s a secret. Don’t want you to tell everyone and keep me from coming,” he squinted his eyes distrustfully.

“But it’s dangerous. You could get hurt,” I nagged.

“If I stay, the other kids call me names.”

He stood from the log, accidentally dumping half a gallon of water onto Archy’s head and waking him from his eternal slumber.

“When I go on missions I am a hero,” his eyes began to water, but he held back the tears and looked at me with a strange sense of courage and heroism.

Archy stood up covered in mud; the brown slime dripped to the ground like clay rain.

“What did I miss?” he extracted water from his ears and wiped his face clean of sludge with a mud-covered hand.

“A bath,” I answered with a smile.

He looked at me with a non-humored disdain, then rolled his eyes and hinted at a smile. The hint broke away to fear as he looked around the grime area of nothing but death and soot.

“We shouldn’t be here. We need to get moving.”

“What happened here? This place looks like a plant cemetery,” I replied.

“This place is a graveyard. Thousands of people died right here.”

The words left his lips like a thousand needles poking the top of my neck. I could see the pain in his eyes. Even with his swollen face, it was sick and green like he was holding back his lunch. Clark looked famished as well, his skin white as snow.

“It’s also the place where I was born. There’s an Atom facility somewhere around here,” Clark added.

I looked at Archy for conformation; he shook his head yes, “The Utah facility. If Scavenger says they have Elizabeth in Utah, then she’s here.”

“There used to be a town here, just like Harrison, brainwashed and experimented on until it was blown up during our rebellion. This is where Alpha team died.”

“Is this what Raven blamed Elly for?” I asked with a burning in my chest.

“Yes. Elly...she lost control and powered up a Alpha-serum nuke on accident. The others tried to stop it while the rest of us escaped through a portal. When it went off it took them and half the state with it.”

“That can’t be possible. How would I not know about this? How can the entire world not know about this? How do I not know about this?” I paced back and forth in the muck, listening to the rain rip apart the ravaged ground.

Archy opened his mouth to respond, but closed it hastily, looking around for something.

Clark.

He had run off leaving only a trail of foot prints up a steep hill. I was so focused on Archy that I hadn’t seen him sneak off. We traced the footsteps up the hill. Archy was still a little dazed; he wobbled awkwardly up the hill, barely keeping his footing.

“Atom brain washes people. He shapes their minds to how he wants them, making them believe anything he wants no matter how unbelievable. Here they thought it was a storm that hit a major gas line. When it exploded, this town was erased from all maps,” he shouted over the thundering rain.

With every drop the mud would splash upwards onto my new wingsuit, turning it from a pure white to a contaminated brown and black. By the time we made it to the top of the hill we were wearing the ground as a new coat. Archy’s shiny bronze armor looked like the rusty old pennies that I used to get from Big Al’s.

We scanned the horizon looking for more footsteps.

“He’s looking for his sister,” I assumed

“He’s going to get us all killed. He couldn’t have gotten far. I’m going to have to waste the last of my Light to make this but…” he extended his arm and light shot to the ground.

It circled around like a snake forming tires, then weaved up and down, splitting into engine parts and tubes. Its head branched out like a stem, then ruptured in half, extending into handlebars.

“We need to find him before Atom does or something worse,” he muttered as he jumped onto the seat.

He extended his arm to me. I grabbed it and then we were off. He was kind enough to make me rear pegs to place my feet on to keep me from plummeting to the ground.

“Shouldn’t we have helmets?” I yelled, battling both the rain and the engine.

“Yes. Let me pull over at the next Walmart and get us some,” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

The dirt bike shot rounds of sludge across the scorched desert and slipped occasionally from the rain. We jumped two hills before we found footprints paired with a new set. They were small boots, just like Clark’s.

When I looked at Archy his countenance showed nothing but fear. I decided I didn’t want to know what was with Clark and refrained from asking.

It isn’t any of Atom’s troops. The size is too small. A shoe size of a three or four-year-old.

Archy realized this too. While his lips never parted, we both agreed on more rapid movements.

We reached a spot in the desert where the land dipped down like a funnel with two small, childlike trails leading down into a cave.

“We’ll go on foot from here.”

Archy absorbed the bike as I jumped to the wet excrement and began to slide down the steep crater. He quickly followed in pursuit.

I could hear water dripping inside the humid cave; the air was thick and hard to breath. Fog made everything within ten feet in front of me nothing but ghostly shadows. Clarks laugh echoed through the cavern with the splashing of water.

There was someone with him and I couldn’t make out the voice. It didn’t sound male or female; it didn’t even sound human, just high-pitched grunts and heavy breathing. As the sound grew louder my heart began to race, my breath shortened, and my stomach curled.

The spikes on the cave’s jagged walls grew with size, forcing us through the tight gap in the walls. The breach illuminated bright red, flashing like a warning light. The gap eventually opened up to a large circular room similar to a bathhouse. In the middle sat a large glowing meteorite wedged deep in the wall. It was discharging a glowing red liquid that flowed like lava. Clark sat at the edge of the liquid splashing it around with his feet and laughing.

“Darla, stop splashing me!” he squealed, taking off his wolf helmet.

I couldn’t see who he was talking to.

She must be further in the room, I concluded.

I began to move forward, trying to squeeze myself through the crack, but Archy grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back to the wall. He pressed his finger against his lips and shook his head no. His eyes were frozen, never blinking. He put his back against the wall and formed a compound bow with four arrows.

A series of hisses and grunts responded to Clark.

“What the hell is in there with him?” I whispered to Archy.

He didn’t answer.

I don’t think he can hear me over the sound of his heart.

He loaded the bow with his first arrow, then squeezed into the crack.

I followed his footsteps. We snuck into the room and that’s when I saw it. At a first glance she was a normal young kid with just dirty hair and black clothing from surviving in this wasteland, but when her head shot around, my dreams would never be free of the fright.

Her golden eyes pierced my soul and floated unattached to her permeable black smog that resembled skin. Her hair was made of doused embers and ash. She was a walking corpse of a four-year-old, a shadow of humanity.

“Clark, get away from it,” Archy shouted, firing the first arrow at the phantom.

The tip spiraled towards the child. She howled a terrifying shriek and hissed at us. With only a few inches to go, the arrow smacked into a wooden shield that was protecting the shade from being impaled.

“Stop! She’s my friend!” Clark shouted, breaking the arrow neck from the implanted head.

“Clark, it’s dead. There’s no human left in that thing,” he fired another arrow.

Clark wasn’t as quick, and the arrow drilled into the smoke demon’s leg, pinning her to the floor. Silver blood poured from the crevice and she wailed in agony, pulling on the leg, trying to break loose, and expanding the wound up her cinder legs. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Archy! Please! Stop!” Clark cried, tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

“Move, Clark! She’s not human!” Archy commanded, loading his second to last arrow.

“Archy, don’t! You could hurt Clark! Look, she is fixed to the ground. There has to be another way to do this,” I pleaded into his unbroken stare.

“There is no other way,” he insisted while calmly firing the arrow and aiming for the heart of the child made of ash and soot.

Time seemed to slow, as if the arrow was trapped in one of the Mother of Time’s illusions. Clark’s face was stuck in a pout with his shield raised, intending to save the beast. Around his feet the ground shifted, flicking with uncertainty to what it should be.

The arrow hovered mere inches from Clark and the abomination. Clark tried to block it, not noticing the deviated ground, stumbling into the new target path of the arrow. The scream left my body unintentionally; it echoed along the walls and out the cave.

Inches away from Clarks head, the sand beneath him unsettled and began to float. The tip prodded lightly into the forehead of the five-year-old, sprouting blood from the sore. The world slowed down to a near halt. I watched as the sand beneath Clark shot into a large pillar, catching the arrow before it impaled the child.

Sound returned, and the speed played normal again as we all stood in silence, staring at the dust mound holding an arrow pressed against Clark’s forehead. Even the shadow had grown quiet in awe and I swear I could even see a smile on her lips.

Without thinking, Clark freed the arrow from her leg and chucked it at Archy, who was frozen in shock. The arrow bounced harmlessly off of his armor and onto the floor. The girl hissed one last time, then limped down a hole in the floor on all fours. Clark’s forehead leaked down his eyebrows and over his eyes. His tears had already evaporated, adding to the humidity of the room, and left shiny trails leading down his face. I ran to him, grabbing onto him and hugging him closely.

“Are you both crazy?! Clark, you could’ve been killed! And Archy, I expect you to know better than to do something so dangerous and idiotic!”

“He was going to hurt my friend. I didn’t want her hurt,” Clark answered.

“You were very brave, but bravery is worth nothing if you’re dead. You’re lucky you learned how to use your abilities before you were pierced,” I nagged.

He gave me a funny look, scrunching his face in confusion.

“I didn’t do that. I thought you did,” he confessed.

I turned to Archy to see what he thought, but the look of pure fear trapped in his eyes gave me a hint.

“If neither of us did it then who did?”

“He did,” Archy answered, looking into the pitch-black corner where nothing stood.

The glow flashed, and a much taller demon made of smoke leaned against the wall. This one was a male, about six feet tall, around twenty years of age, and wore a damaged golden suit of armor that matched his glowing eyes. I remembered him from his mural in the hall of heroes; Ore was his name.

Archy dropped the bow and fell to his knees. He panted an everlasting breath. He was forcing his face to strangle the frown forming on his lips.

The being started to walk towards us, his glowing eyes focused on Clark and the silver blooded arrow still stuck in the ground. I pulled Clark behind me, thinking the beast would prefer to eat me instead of the tiny five-year-old. His path led him to the crime scene. The ground bent to his will and formed a small, square slab of rock that held the arrow pinned inside like nail to concrete.

The silver blood had mixed with red luminescent liquid. Ore looked at it curiously, contemplating what the substance was and if we were worth killing. The longer he looked, the more his gas skin boiled and popped. He crushed his fist, then the slab crumbled into dust, arrow and all. The blood dripped down his arms, lighting up his body with a glittering red silver.

Two more stone slabs unhinged themselves from the ground and floated next to him as he set his target on us. He threw the first slab directly at Archy and I was dumb enough to think I could catch it. I raised my arm out to stop the death cube in its path, but my hand split through the soft stone like a saw through a branch. One side smacked harmlessly into the pool of imitation lava, spraying my wingsuit with red, hot meteor blood, while the other half crashed into Clark’s shield, where it too splattered into dust.

“Are you trying to kill us?” he squealed as the monster grew within arm’s reach.

I puffed out my chest and stood tall, trying to look bigger than I really was. I guarded Clark’s arm by pressing it against my back, keeping him as far away from the creature as I could. The second slab flew over Archy’s inattentive head and let gravity return it to its rightful resting place. Archy raised a fist, pretending to hold a sharp sword that was still forming in his hand. The slab fissured, breaking into uneven halves that shattered against the hard floor.

I tried to swing at Ore, but my arm fazed through, punching nothing but air. He inspected me, scanning me for weapons or for other hidden dangers. His breath was cold and reeked of dying flames, his eyes were more secured to his half-formed sockets than the five-year-old, and his skin was more stuck together. It was solid and stained gray rather than a floating black fog.

He tried to look around me at Clark, but I would not move into his path. With no emotion he grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Clark.

“Scarlett!” his yell echoed across the cave, filled with fear and innocence.

The power of the scream freed Archy from his melancholy and he sprinted towards Clark, sword pointed down.

Ore’s hands were cold, cold enough to form small icicles along my forearm as he gripped on tight. He raised me up by my arm, bringing me to his face.

Archy screamed a war cry as he plunged his sword into Ore’s half armored chest. Ore glanced at the sword, then responded with a backhand to Archy’s already swollen face, sending him through the cavern’s tight entrance, bloody from reopened and fresh wounds.

“No!” I choked out.

The beast’s eyes quickly fixated back onto Clark and began to walk towards him, disregarding the broad sword trapped in his chest.

“Clark, run!”

Clark stood still; I demanded for him to run, but he stood still, waiting for the monster’s call. He equipped his invincible paper mache helmet, sliding it smoothly down his wet hair until his dark grey eyes were hidden by a dark silhouette.

I scratched at the demon’s hand, attempting to pry his icy fingers from my forearm. The beating of my heart could have been felt throughout my entire body as I hoped that Clark would turn around and flee this horror film. Unfortunately, hope does not stop the ignorance of bravery.

Clark placed his shield in front of his face and began a charge at the beast. Noticing the boy was not trying to leave, Ore planted his feet, staring at the child warrior with a confused gaze. Yes, even the monster was bewildered by Clark’s lack of concern for fear.

“Clark, run away. Please, you don’t have to prove that you’re brave. It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared,” I begged, practically talking to a brick wall.

He was too close to run away at that point. Ore swatted at Clark and somehow Clark ducked underneath, then bashed Ore’s half golden chest. Ore stumbled backwards, shocked at the force behind the child’s attack.

He didn’t go through him, I thought, even surprised myself.

The hit meant nothing; Ore stepped forward again and kicked Clark in the chest, sending the child spiraling into the wall. He grunted, painfully rolling onto his belly, freeing himself from the pain in his back.

The wall was fractured after Clark’s impact. I couldn’t imagine what it must have done to his premature bones. Somehow, he found the strength to stand, holding his back and leaning awkwardly to one side.

“That all you got?” he taunted.

Ore let out and unsatisfied gorilla grunt, flaring his nostrils.

“Clark, leave! Please! You can’t beat him!” I cried with a river of tears.

He grinned while wiping away a small dot of blood on his lips,

“I’ve been getting pushed around and bullied all my life. If he wants me to stop trying to save you, he better hit a lot harder.”

He charged again and again, each ending with the same events and conclusions as the first and each time the crack in the wall would grow.

Clark hit the wall again, head first this time, splitting his helmet in two. He then slid back down to the ground. He laid there longer this time, sulking in the worst pain ever forced upon him. Ore had also taken a beating, nowhere near Clark’s level of damage, but his golden armor had dents and scuffs. He panted heavily like a dog trying to cool off, his grip on my arm loosened with every hit.

I kept thinking about grabbing the broadsword implanted in Ore’s chest. I was close enough to it, but it had to have been in there tightly. There was no way that I could reach it without Ore retaliating. I gave up on the idea and hoped he wouldn’t use the sword to kill Clark if he wasn’t dead already.

The boy sat lifeless, looking into the covered stars. Ore released me to the ground; the soil weakened around my legs and sank like quicksand, then hardened like concrete. He walked over to Clark’s helmet and squished one side with his foot, punishing Clark for his disobedience. A liquid flowed from the boy’s lifeless head, slowly moving towards the illuminated lava puddle.

Ore rested his boot above Clark’s head, his own blood dripping onto his pale, young face. I punched at the stone trapping me, beating it worthlessly and barely making a scratch. He brought down his leg with ferocious furry. I looked away, forcing my eyes shut as I watered the ground. The crunch rang in my ears, bringing more tears to add to the ground. My hands trembled so bad that they couldn’t hold me up anymore and I face planted back onto the ground.

He kept stomping over and over again; it was the same bone breaking sound.

The room filled with a curious heat, but Ore kept stomping. I forced myself to open my eyes; the room was ablaze with a mix of colors. The red lava had turned into a rainbow of fire, flashing from red to blue to green, then to white. There was a trail of fire leading back to the child warrior, engulfing his tiny body in a coffin of embers. The monster kicked it, frustrated and spiteful. The trail was Clark’s blood which had merged with the red ooze that came from the meteor.

Clark sat up, stiff as a board and eyes glowing red like a sinister moonlight. The shield exploded, blinding Ore’s dark ghost and me. Ore howled in pain as his shadow began to burn.

When the white cleared from my eyes, Clark stood with a rainbow aura around his body. His body shimmered and then a total of four child warriors surrounded the shadow monster. Each one had a different colored set of eyes and aura: red, blue, white, and green.

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