Old Flame

The Koh Samui airport was more of an arboretum than an airport. Gardens and greenery pocked the open-air facility, giving visitors a small sampling of the island itself. Despite its small size, the thatched wooden roofing of the terminals and the overall aesthetic of USM made it a… unique airport to say the least. 

Even though it was approaching 3:30 A.M., the heat sweltered in Koh Samui. High seventies on this night. Shrugging off his pack, Finan sat on the grass area of the airport grounds, next to a small pool with lily pads and a small island floating atop it. Gazing at the mini-island for a moment before his eyes snapped off of it, tracking the sky like the scope of a sniper rifle. His gaze passed over the main double coned-roof of the facility, searching those scorched-iron clouds for any sign of that rusted redness — that wisp of mist that Chanda had warned against. He knew it was hounding him, hunting him like a dog. He saw it encroaching upon Lat Koh as he raced away before he disappeared into the welt of urban complexes further inland. 

'First a black goat, then a parasite, suicide, and now a red cloud eh? I'm running away from a cloud. Well, screw me I guess, all we need now is a goddamn dragon sifting down from the clouds and reigning hellfire on us. All before I can say dracarys. God I'm going crazy. I can't think like this. So stop thinking, for the love of god stop thinking.' Finan stood up, started shadow boxing. Foot forward, jab straight out. Twist hips, cross. Tense hand at last moment, not all the way through. Slip off the angle, pivot, twist out, throw a tight hook like you're pouring a mug of coffee. Jab high. Jab low. Switch off. Teep. Low kick jab low kick jab cross hook jab jab jab jab jab jab jab jab—

His phone rang. Chanda. He put it to speaker. 

"Chanda, I'm waiting out—" 

"Finan run get out of here now! You need to run! I screwed up Finan, one of them is here—" 

"Who Chanda? Chanda can you explain something, anything for my sake what the hell is happen—"

A roaring green flame burst from the mini-island on the pond. A flock of small doves and green pigeons fluttered away as the flames swallowed the greenery of the flora and fauna before, amazingly, spreading outward to cover the lime-tinted pond water. 

"I'll call you back Chanda," Finan said, with a surprising calm to his voice despite the shuddering of his body. Not that she heard him over the explosive sounds. 

Fire licked across the water. Eating it away. Finan shuffled back, feeling his leg buckle slightly, no thanks to his shadow-boxing despite his injuries. He ignored it, watching in awe as the pool dissipated in the wake of that venom-colored flame and then, from the center of that roaring fire, rose a lanky, inhuman figure. Scorched body. Skin so twisted into blackness that the monster looked like a corpse pulled from the ruins of a grand fire, one of those wildfires that scoured across the American landscape and choked the air with smog. 

And the heat. 

Worse than the hottest day, the hottest room in Koh Samui. Worse than Finan sweating his piss away while Pi Ketchup screamed in his ear "yab yab yab yab!" 

The figure unfurled six arms, spreading them proudly as if breaking free of a cocoon, taking its first breath as a butterfly. 

Twisting its maw into a grin, the creature strode forth, walking across the burning pond with slow menace. Its gnarled, seven-toed feet planted upon the surface of the water as if it was dirt. The laws of nature didn't apply. 

Finan's instincts screamed at him. Two options: run or fight. Well, there was only ever one option for him in situations like this. He stumbled away, minding his buckling leg, cursing his own injuries from the fight as he mounted his motorcycle, revved it twice, and reared it 'round onto the airport grounds. The tires kicked into the dirt, trailing grass blades in its trail as Finan put pedal to the metal. The urban province of Surat Thani lay downstreet and it might've provided Finan with a concrete refuge. He rode on that way. 

'Is this what I've amounted to? Running away from clouds and monsters? What was the point of all that training? You pathetic piece of shit.'

'Turn around.' 

And so he did, sliding his bike across the grass and then onto the road, arm nearly skimming the blacktop. He used to practice that slide after watching Akira. Never got it right though— not until now. That small victory made him smile as he rode back onto the grounds, gunning for the scorched monster. 

'Screw the fear. No more. I'm done scrambling around, trying to figure out whether I'm going insane. This thing is just a problem.' 

And Finan wasn't really the type to solve his problems. 

He broke them instead.