The Horror Library - The Best in Horror Fiction

King of Bones
By Jason R. Beirens

I woke up with a headache that was like a tiger digging its claws into my forehead. My mouth seemed full of nails, and I had slept on my right arm.

It is now only six pm. My arm is falling back asleep and my deodorant is wearing off. Although that last part might not be true. It is hard to tell, mostly because I am trudging through the sewers looking for a monster, and to beat it all, the tiger's grip on my head is getting stronger.

Movement on the left, I can hear slow even breathing. The creature is close, the tick tack of the extended claws sounds out a morbid tap dance routine. I hear a slow dripping somewhere closer than the tapping. Then a slow hiss and it jumps at me. It is quicker than me.

My gun is out nearly too late. I put the barrel down the creature's maw and fire off a few rounds as the teeth begin to sink into my flesh. I bite back a scream and fire off some more rounds.

The creature falls to the floor. The back of its head looks like a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Large dead fish eyes look up at me. It blinks once, its tongue lolls out of its mouth, and it is dead. The creature lies motionless. I refill the clip of my gun, and put it away.

This is one of those times that I wished I had backup to call for, or a sidekick. I would feel more like a superhero if I had one of those. Anyway, I kneel down to get a sample of brain, or guts, or whatever the meatball-looking stuff is, and then it starts reverting back to its original form. I have never witnessed a reverse change, always the human to the monster, never the other way around.

I stand back to watch, curious. It's a small woman. No more than thirty. She's stark naked and quite beautiful. The hole in her head disappears and then she sits up.

That really took me aback, shook me. Dead is dead, especially when I put ten bullets into a skull.

She sits up in the ankle deep filth and spits out a mouthful of blood and phlegm. Her eyes are confused. She feels her mouth with her hand and then licks a finger, blood and excrement. I suspect she doesn't like the flavor, as she lets fly with a Technicolor show of half digested food.

I don't think she notices me, she is noticeably groggy. She gets to her feet and wobbles a bit. She really has quite a nice body. Her hair falls down enough to cover her breasts. It is a dingy strawberry blonde. Though I am sure the dingy nature is mostly thanks to the sewer water. She falls forward and I catch her.

She looks up at me like I might be a wall or something. I don't think she wants to acknowledge I am there. She presses against me and taps my shoulder like she is a drunk trying to convince a friend to let them drive home themselves. I imagine she is thinking, "'Naw, I'm all right. Just let me get to bed and everything will be fine.'

She begins to fall again. I catch her by her wrists. Then she realizes I am not a wall. Her eyes widen, and she begins to scream, before she can though she sees my eyes. I try to make them say 'Shut up.' it works. I see her eyes steady. She is coming out of a very long period of being dazed and confused.

The naked woman steadies herself wipes her hands on my shirt and extends one out.
"Beatrice Sim, pleased to meet you."

I speak slowly.
"Do you know where you are?" She seems taken aback.

"How rude. You are no gentleman. You are supposed to take a ladies offered hand and kiss it."

She thinks for a second more,
"And offer your name in return for one given."

"Sorry Miss Sim, my name is Teran, Teran Bourn." I take her hand and kiss it, then again I speak,

"Do you know where you are?"

She looks around for a second, back at me, and then around again.
"I dare say, I am in a sewer."

Surprises abound, I could have sworn she would have said, her bedroom, or something, anything except the obvious. She must see the puzzled look on my face.

"My good man, how did we get here?"

"A good question Miss Sim, I was chasing a monster, that I eventually killed, and then I found you." I didn't think it wise to let her know she was the monster.
"Oh dear. I hope you weren't hurt."

"It bit my arm a bit." I show her where she had bit me, there was a small amount of dry blood. "Hardly a scratch really."

She seems to notice then that she is naked.

"Oh dear." She holds her arms in front of herself.

I take off my coat and offer it to her.

"Thank you Mister Bourn."

It buries her; she is lost amongst the folds of leather and cotton. Her head peeks out from between the two lapels. Her eyes seem bigger, brighter. The green is a few shades brighter then our already green surroundings. Her fingers slowly find there way out of the sleeves, she wipes her hair away from her face, and smiles.

"I will be glad to get back to my brownstone."

I realize then what has happened. She has been trapped in the monster for years, maybe decades, maybe more.

I want to tell her what has happened. Maybe cruelly I don't. I lead her out of the sewer, into the world above. The sky is red and brown, the landscape broken.

She cries into my chest. The back of her neck is revealed to me from behind my coats collar. The hunger stirs in me then. I lick my lips, and open my mouth. My teeth stained crimson. I hesitate for a moment and my decision is made. She continues to cry.

~

The King of Bones walked out into the field of sorrow.
His castle surrounded by the dead
ravages of a war fought only hours before
The King of Bones walked amongst them
They crunched and squished and fell aside
After a few moments of trekking he stopped
Fell to his knees and cried and died with his army
and the armies of his enemies

I repeated the poem from memory. She sat and listened, her arms crisscrossed across her chest rubbing her shoulders. She swatted at some flies.
"He was said to be the last one alive."
"The king?"
"Truly alive. After the plagues and famines, and wars."
"What caused all of that?"
"One thing cannot be pointed at. One thing never can be."
I did not bite her. As you might be able to tell by now. She lives. Truly lives. That is a rare thing in this day and age. After a few centuries of war, plagues, and genetic mutations. Science marched on until science was killed by itself.

The monster in her is dead. I can no longer smell it. I killed that part of her. I will protect her, it is the least I can do for taking away her ability to protect herself. I will keep the un-dead away from her. The armies of zombies, and the nightwalkers. Slowly I will reveal the truth to her, slowly I will tell her the history of the new world, the dead world.