Chapter Nine

There was one person who wasn't fearful of the apparent Armageddon.

Kyle Mason lived in the upper storey apartment of a grubby townhouse not far from where the river widened after its amble through the park.

Much like the exterior the inside was cold and damp, mildew a common occurrence and always appearing grimy no matter how hard one cleaned. There was always a yellow tint to the once white walls and a grey pattern smearing the carpets.

Kyle had never complained like other tenants, knowing the response of one got what they paid for and compared to his student digs it was a palace.

He rarely seemed clean himself. The clothing that hung on the lanky body held an odour of pond water or ingrained age. The black hair, impeccably gelled and styled, appeared greasy rather than treated and his skin held a perpetual shine.

It might well have been circumstance, down to the water that screamed in protest down the rusty pipes from goodness knew where or down to the fact the freshest food he bought was in a can. If he did eat fresh meals they were delivered in and made by others and only when he had a coupon.

Despite the diet his body remained unhealthily lean. When he wasn't working his missing meals substituted with substances of a less wholesome nature.

Jobs were sporadic and short termed. His customer service and social skills were lacking despite his resume saying otherwise, such papers could be doctored quite easily if you knew the right people.

Within the space of a years he had already had seven different positions and lost all of them. His last job had been the shortest, lasting only two weeks before a clash with a customer had him fired.

Standing at the window he gazed out on the devastation with a strange smile, the expression growing brighter when lightening lit the sky with a deafening roar. Slowly he turned and looked towards a small cupboard hidden in the corner.

It was the only piece of furniture that seemed in decent condition. The black top polished and covered with a red cloth, hiding the lock fastening the door at the front. Atop it sat a lone candle in a plain holder, glinting in the gloom.

"Seems you have competition, I was kinda hopin' to be the first to bring such a delight to people but hey, this might mean there's more to gain."

Inside he felt something was listening. Something he felt held the golden key to his escape from this pit he found himself in. True, it was a pit he had created for himself, aided by the continual criticisms and apathy from a lacklustre father, but he didn't have the drive to foist himself from it.

The seller had told him that the piece, if used correctly, if summoned and respected in the right manner, would offer greatness and satisfaction beyond anyone's wildest dreams.

Looking at the odd figurine that had been placed in his hands Kyle would admit he felt a strong sense of trepidation.

Carved in ebony it formed the shape of a grotesque baboon. Black as pitch except for one central part.

Its genitals were erect and sacs bulbous as they hung aside the exaggerated organ. Painted bright red it was impossible to notice anything else.

'Except if you have the gift,' the man had insisted adamantly. "Those who can harness it can feel it ejaculate power, the power that it will bestow upon you should you treat it how it desires!"

Kyle had not been sure at the time whether he only imagined the shudder that flowed through him when his thumb touched the prominent crimson, whether it was just the passion in the others words that caused him to think the figure warmed, twitched against him.

Regardless of his doubts he decided to take it, paying more than he would ever have done for the others tools he had tried.

Satan be damned, he had a new deity now, one he hoped would respond more eagerly.

So far it seemed his luck had remained positively inert.

To his credit, regardless of his impatience, Kyle knew he had done little research into how to appease whatever was in the vessel. His dabbling with other beings had led to little, except for the odd sensation that he was no longer alone, something that meant he had moved from the flat above the takeaway.

Forcing his gleeful gaze from the scenes below he ambled slowly over to the cupboard. Keeping it sealed away for now seemed the wisest idea, surrounded by a circle of rock salt. How that offered protection he didn't know but if it did then he would go with it.

"I know who you are," he said aloud, looking at the closed door as if expected a cold laugh to sound in response. "I just need to figure out what you want in return for help. Or to get you to start to help. Small animals haven't done a goddamn thing except stink the place out even more and I can't get hold of anything bigger."

He looked over his shoulder as a violent gust of wind blasted the bloody water up against the window like grisly rose petals.

"Glorious," he muttered with a sigh, grinning wider as it stained the glass. "A crimson mosaic better than any pompous artist." He chuckled, turning back to the cupboard. "Least I ain't got work. Gives me chance to look into you and thank shit I got those books, huh? I doubt the internet is gonna be up for long."

As soon as the words left him he could swear the cupboard shivered as if in anticipation of what might be coming.

--

Whilst he would not admit to it, Am Heh felt a sense of unease as he studiously took in a world he had never known.

Time was passed and moved on and things had changed vastly. No longer did he see the artistic architecture or tumbledown hovels he was so used to.

No carts and livestock walked sand covered paths or gritty farmland and no markets had stood where destruction now was.

Instead drab stone and cold metals met him. Ugly, shapeless carriages rusted in the waters and generic buildings stood austere and dull.

"Why any seek to protect such squalor is unfathomable," he muttered, pulling his cloak closer about himself, hiding the distinct red hair. "Any who admire this are a disgrace."

His fingers flexed slowly as he moved without hindrance through the boiling river that had taken charge of the streets. The ground rumbled beneath him and low groans of stone echoed as buildings and pavement shook.

Something else also joined their moans. A soft scuffling as though thousands of tiny feet frantically beat the earth to climb upwards.

Shadows rose up over the walls that escaped the floods and poured like oil from the crevices. As the lightening pulsated the black glimmered and illuminated the sight of a glut of claws clutching at the air and hungry for whatever they could find.

Screams from inside some of the buildings were people cowered joined the cacophony of wind and thunder. Am Heh grinned at the sound, reminding him of those he had thrown into his fiery lakes and tormented on the surface world when he had fallen into a rage.

Blood trickled from a window nearby where a young man wept as scarabs bit painfully into his flesh, eating inch by in agonising slowness. It felt like acid burning away as skin and flesh were removed from bone, eating through muscle until the nerve ending finally ceased functioning. Then horrified eyes could only watch until death finally came as peaceful relief.

The sands of the Nile could well have been the same as the crocodiles flocked to devour those near the breaking banks.

His eyes dulled and fell. He had never accomplished that. Those pleading eyes and whispered words to another lowly slave had foist upon him a feeling he long ignored.

"Damn them all," he hissed violently, his gaze lighting again as though fire burned behind it. "They shall slight me no more and stop me not. My name will be remembered amongst them until their world is no more!"

He clapped his hands and thunder shook the buildings. Shattering windows and showering the air with a rain of sparkling glass. It fell in diamonds about him, the lethal edges doing no harm except clinging to his hair like a crown.

A crown he would richly deserve.

"My will shall be done."