Holy shit this girl can hold her liquor. I think I’m like five bottles in after an hour of eating whatever grub we could get a hold of and Malika is now breaking out shots of some local liquor. Honestly, I don’t think I’m going to make it back to the room if this keeps up. A brief question to our French speaking waiter and I fork over some more cash and he brings the bottle of firewater.

Standing up, I find the room is now a spinning carousel of disorientation. Maybe it was seven bottles?

Catching on quickly, Malika stands up as well, and if I could focus enough, I might have been able to tell whether or not she was faring better than me.

“Hey Salem, how many languages can you speak?” Malika asks me as we make our way up the stairs. Alright, so maybe the question might have been just a teensy bit slurred but I wasn’t really paying attention to that. In fact, I was having a hard time thinking about her question at all as the gorgeous, and oh so obviously aroused, woman felt me up in all the right places.

“Shhhhh, you’re not supposed to use my real name out here” I state (slur) intelligently as I begin to retaliate her attacks in turn, “Let’s see there’s English, Spanish, French, German, Russian, *hiccup* and I’m just finishing up Mandarin so that makes what, six?”

With a bottle in one hand I regretfully extract my other to grab the key and open the door. Malika seems to have none of those qualms as one of her hands slips down the front of my pants. I take the route of the better man and resist the primal urge to take her then and there in the hallway.

As the door opens, she plants a kiss on me that sends fire down my veins and leaves me forgetting to breath, as my pulse picks up and my desire to be sober for what come next mixes with the intoxication of her smell. She whispers huskily into my ear, “I’m going to go take a shower. Do you think you could give me a little help?”

**************************************

Mutely I nod my head and follow her in, both of us leaving a trail of clothes behind us. Ripping my shirt from my torso an idea forms in my muddled brain, and I pull in my Influence ever so slightly. Like a splash of cold water the alcohol clouding my thoughts sweeps away. As we go, I keep my eyes on the raven-haired Cleopatra as she undresses, admiring her pert backside and becoming intoxicated by something else altogether. Enthralled, I slip under the stream of warm water and join her. Grabbing her head, I bring her around and press my own fire hot kiss onto her delectably full lips, noting that she indeed was likely much less under the influence than I was. Softly biting her lower lip, I reach over and grab a bar of soap. Taking my time, I make sure there is not a single speck of grime left on her, all the while ensuring the… cleanliness of her bosom. Making my way down, I drop to my knees, noting the landing strip leading down to her soaked slit. Taking extra time here, I use my fingers to thoroughly and attentively scrub the area clean, starting at her inner thighs and working my way up to her honey pot until I hear a small gasp and quiver that tells me it is to her satisfaction.

Finishing up, she takes the soap from my hands before standing me up and scouring me spotless as well. When she drops to her knees she completely ignores my stiff member, swollen from the light petting, moving on to the rest of me. Only when everything has at least been lightly scrubbed does she move to my prick, caressing it in both hands before rinsing everything off all together.

I move to exit the shower, too worked up and filled with need, but she stops me in my tracks by grabbing my hips with her hands. Still on her knees she begins bobbing her head on my tool before taking me all the way to my base in one fluid motion. Gasping my pleasure and surprise, I grip the edge of the shower trying to keep myself from cumming. Finally, and yet all too soon, she stops, coming off my rod, gasping for breath, as I do the same for entirely different reasons.

She notes my breathlessness and smiles up at me mischeviously while giving me a few more playful tugs, “Oh, so soon? And here I had gotten my hopes up that you could live up to your big words.”

Incensed and worried that if she started up again I would let loose right there, I pick her up and put her over my shoulders, caveman style. Letting loose an effeminate squeal of surprise, she quickly rallies herself, “Oh so what-“ *Whack* My hand strikes across her rear and she lets out a small girlish shriek before I set her down on the bed. She looks up at me from the mattress, her cheeks flushed, her hair matted behind her and her body still covered in a light sheen of water. She bites her lips, her gaze filled with heat and desire, she asks “What are you going to do now?”

My face breaks out into a roguish grin but find that I haven’t properly calmed down enough to speak with more than a grunt. Going to the foot of the twin size mattress, I go down on her, returning the favor in kind, though mostly because at this point I was worried that the slightest breeze would preemptively set me off. Using my hands to get a firm hold of her hips I dip my tongue into her soaking wet box, finding her drenched, and not with water. Putting my years of traveling experience to good use I bring her to the edge twice before finally setting her off, fully delighting as she begs for release. One of her hands grabs firmly onto my hair in an attempt to press my face further into her clenching pussy, while she bites the other to stifle her cries. Not giving her a chance to rest, I ease a finger inside her and change the pace, bringing her to a second, more abrupt and intense, climax before the first has a chance to fully ebb away. Her thighs immediately clamp around my head, holding me in place, but as her back arches, thrusting her perky c-cup bosom into the air, I don’t stop, even as I feel my lungs burn and her orgasmic quivering increases to full-blown spasms. It’s only when she rallies herself enough to shove my head away that I finally step back.

When she finally makes it back from cloud 9 and looks up at me, leering over her in supposed victory, does some of the fire and steel that I’ve come to expect from her, enter her eyes. Taking a firm hold of me, she pulls me onto the covers next to her. Straddling me, she takes a firm hold of my penis before centering it. Reaching out I stop her before she impales herself, “I don’t have a condom with me.”

Smiling she locks eyes with, taking my breath away with her dazzling smile and pale green irises, “I was on the pill before this.” She drops her hips down as she finishes saying this, and I gasp in pleasure while my hands grip the sheets. While the break helped me to regain some of my stamina, it did little to stem the excitement or keep my blood from pounding through my veins.

“I should be safe for a few weeks.” She says between pants as she lets herself adjust to the feeling of me being inside her. Leaning over she kisses me and then says huskily in my ear, “I want to feel your big tool cum inside my little cunny.” The twitch of my cock at her words is all the answer she needs.

I don’t get much respite after that, as before long she begins slowly and agonizingly moving her hips up and down, bringing me almost out to the tip before switching directions and taking me to my base. Picking up the speed I find myself using the mattress springs to lightly bounce my cock in rhythm with her motions. It isn’t long until I near the edge of my limits.

Suddenly she stops, and, with a grin that would have made the Cheshire cat proud, she starts over from the beginning, slowly bouncing herself up and down. Growling out my frustration and need I lightly pinch and paw at her breasts while thrusting my hips up, throwing off her rhythm, forcing her to hold in place as I slam my dick inside her. When her hands come down on either side of my shoulders and she leans forward to help brace herself I move my hands away from her chest. Placing more power into my pelvis, I bring one hand to grip her tight ass while my other hand comes down to her clit.

She gasps at my attentions. Falling to her elbows, she moves her hips to allow for a better angle. As her breasts rock and scrape sensually across my chest, I can tell she is just as close as I am. As the pace picks up and the slapping of our hips echoes out louder and louder, Malika’s arms give out altogther, collapsing on my chest and biting into my shoulder to keep from crying out. As her pussy contracts and spasms around my sensitive rod I thrust one final time as my balls coil and shoot deep inside her core.

******************************************

As I lay there, my body locked up as the monster orgasm seems to climb higher and higher, white hot ecstasy floods my vision before overwhelming my other senses altogether.

White. Pure white surrounds me with nothing else except for sand. In the air and at my feet, it swirls and flows throughout the endless space before convening in front of me, turning into a pulsing humanoid form. The white sand comes and pushes itself together before falling apart, not having enough power to form cohesively. Curiosity overcomes me and I reach out, not with my hands but with a different limb. One that comes from within me. Reaching out, I grip and encourage it. Push it together trying to get it to stay that way. It helps, but never for long as it falls off and flows out before pulsing back once more. I continue trying and while it starts to hang suspended for longer periods of time it still resets to loose particles in the blink of an eye. Frustrated, I reach out and when the grains come to the focus point, I squeeze it instead of trying to simply pushing it into place.

The sand shifts and I can feel it slide around and move, trying to flow out of my grasp, and its then that I feel the power within the grains. Every single one of them a small kernel of energy that is slowly building up from the power that drifts and permeates this space. The energy is within me as well.

I reach inside of myself and use it to give the amorphous sand a helping hand, taking some of the energy from me I form a bond, empowering the sand to finally take shape. I watch on as a piece of me flows into the grains and the shape of a woman takes full form, but I feel something missing. It can still do more, go farther. I squeeze even harder and as I do, the sand turns into something else entirely.

Before me now stands a woman made of clear diamond. Full-figured she stands like a perfectly sculpted crystal statue. Releasing my hold I feel the bond finish and know that whatever I did is done. And as I watch the crystal breaks apart, becoming sand once more and returning the bulk of the energy I used to catalyze the process. The sand disperses fully this time, stretching out infinitum, and as one of the grains floats in front of my face, I see that I was wrong. The kernels are not sand. No, they are crystals, just like the woman. Each and every one of them a clear, miniscule piece of glass.

Like the tide, the sand flows back together, this time no longer needing my help. I watch as the crystal woman forms once more. I watch this happen again and again, for what feels like an eternity stretched out within a second. As the woman breaks apart and reforms in splendid beauty, my thoughts slowly wash away and become less cohesive. I don’t fight it as waves of bliss crash upon my mental shores carrying away the memories of the moment.

As the ecstasy continues to recede the euphoria remains and I open my eyes. Looking at the woman desperately trying to catch her breath on my chest. Another minute passes before her eyes lose their unfocused glaze. She looks to me, a sparkle in her pupils as she slides a delicate hand down my body. My already hard rod takes her by surprise and with a sly grin, I roll her over. It was many hours before either of us got any sleep.

Wetting her parched lips, Malika pulls farther under the covers and judges that the blissful relaxation she currently enjoys far outstrips her need for water. Remaining on her side she coddles Salem’s head into her bust and wraps herself tighter around his toned body.

Salem.

It was just a name but it showed he had at least come to trust her.

Despite her previous protests to the contrary she had come to trust the man as well and after last night…

A light nibble on her breasts jerked her from her inner thoughts, signifying that her companion wasn’t so asleep after all. A suckle followed shortly after as if to indemnify the earlier actions, drawing forth a low moan from her before Salem lifted his head from her bosom.

“While your breasts make magnificent pillows, they make it rather hard to breathe.” He said and she felt how the idea amused him.

“Please, the idea of dying in my cleavage probably just gets you hard. Speaking of which.” She responded, giving a playful tug of his rapidly hardening member.

Scooping her face in his hands he kissed her forehead while saying, “Just let me like brush my teeth or something. Morning after-“

He stopped abruptly and she felt his confusion as he pulled back from her. Looking him in the eye, Malika simply remained unmoving, raising only a single eyebrow at the chiseled man lying beside her.

“You can hear me right?” he said but his lips didn’t move.

It’s only in that moment that she realized she was feeling more than just his body. No, she could feel his emotions as a barely palpable sensation, like a lingering taste on her tongue. His thoughts seemed small and quiet, like a whisper through the leaves on an autumn day.

Timidly she answered, “Yes?” yet she made no true sound

His eyes blinked rapidly before his brow furrowed and she felt his confusion deepen. She mirrored it as she found something even more startling.

She could feel the Earth and upon asking, the Wind whispered its readiness. Standing up she looked further inside of her, and, on a whim, focused on the sensation of flowing and shifting like when she was the sand.

No sooner than the thought made than she was human no more. She pushed and moved out of the bed and when she was out of the covers she gathered herself. Another thought and she looked through her human eyes back at Salem. His astonishment had not exceeded her own.

“What does this mean?” She asked without speaking

Her only response was laughter. Hearty, resounding laughter as he fell back down into the mattress. Pulling himself together he looked at her, a crazed grin on his lips and a sharp twinkle in his eye.

“I have no clue. But I haven’t really known what’s been happening since the plane crash. Honestly, I just don’t think I care anymore. Is there anything new you can do?” He gives his flippant reply out loud this time.

Sighing she looked up. While the changes should be disconcerting his words rang true. With everything that had happened so far, who were they to question yet another thing they couldn’t really explain? So far, from what she could tell the world went to hell in a hand basket. They had almost been eaten several. Death seemed ever prevalent. It was time she stopped thinking about everything else. She would live for the present and just go with the flow for now and see where things went. What did all this mean? It might matter but at the moment a far more pressing concern was as he had said. What new things could she do?

She could feel the Earth and hear the Wind. But upon further introspection she could feel power thrumming through her body, no longer held back or running through the sand. It was strengthening her. Ever so slightly and barely discernable but the rush that ran through her was seeping into every nook and cranny. As she pondered that she remembered how easily running and moving about had been the days before. She hadn’t really given it much thought but she did seem to have greater stamina and reflexes than she remembered. Perhaps that was the reason why?

Moving on, she was just about to see how far she could go with it all when a distressed cry came from out in the hallway. She felt nothing out there but that was what was so disturbing. It was as if a hole in her senses had appeared, as if there was nothing there to begin with.

By the time she pulled back from the surroundings, Salem had already thrown on a pair of pants and grabbed a pistol. Throwing open the door he burst out before staggering backwards a step, coming to a halt in the doorway.

Hastily throwing on some clothes, she was not far behind. As she approached, Salem staggered out into the hall firing twice before staggering once more and breathing laboriously. Moving to inspect and offer whatever aid she could, she peeked around the doorframe

What she saw was almost too disturbing for words.

An amorphous creature from a demented horror movie loomed in the hallway. Dark grey skin, the color of polished cement, stretched across every inch of its body. Its arms, stretching all the way to the floor, were thin and spindly like the rest of its body. What was likely the most disturbing of its features, however were the glimmering scythes curled up at the end of its arms or the lack of any features on its head other that the single opening which stretched across its face horizontally, opening to reveal a long tongue and sharp conical teeth. Blood seemed to trail after it, dripping from its maw, and the ends of its arms and legs leading from a still, half-chewed body by the stairs.

Further down the hall, a door opened and the head of someone else who was trying to see what was going on peeked out from his sleeping quarters. That head however swiftly disappeared, before reappearing once more, swiftly speared on the end of one of the creatures’ arms which it then brought up to its lipless mouth. The sharp crunch of skull being devoured accompanied by the dull thud of the headless corpse falling to the floor were the only sounds that echoed through the hall as the two onlookers watched on with bated breath.

Another door opened up, across from the first, revealing a large bulk of a man on the other side of the hallway from where the previous occupant just vacated. Whether the monstrosity was still tied up with its snack or his reflexes were sharp enough was unclear, as the man swiftly swung the door between him and the bladed hand that descended toward him. It did little to stop the blow as it shredded wood without pause but it did save his life. At this point Salem managed to gather himself, straightening up and walking forward.

“Abomination.” Was all Malika heard, but even that was barely a whisper, as he plodded forward, struggling against some immense unseen weight. Gunfire rang out then from the towering man in the doorway, but as she watched, the impacts from the gun merely rippled the grey skin, the malformed bullets falling to the floor.

Seeking to offer help, she decided to see how far her abilities would carry her. She focused and stretched her extra mental limb, exploding towards the creature in a burst of power. This time she called upon the Wind, and pushed with the Earth, trying to push the enemy with every literal grain of her being. It was only as she drew near the blind spot the creature in her senses created, that she truly understood the word Salem had previously spoken.

Its existence just seemed… wrong. The very air around it and the floor upon which it stood weren’t simply torn from her grasp as she neared. They were tainted, the very essence of what they were had been twisted into something beyond the recognition of the powers that flowed through her.

She hesitated at this revelation and that was her mistake. Reacting to the cloud of white dust that moved in its direction, the abomination sliced through the sand and pain reverberated through her very being. Screeching her anguish, she flew back and away from the abomination, returning to her mortal coils behind Salem. As she fell to the floor, her breathing labored, she placed a hand on her side and found the area wet. Bringing it back up to her face, she found it was her blood that wet her.

Looking back up at the scene she watched as Salem continued forward, methodically firing upon the creature as he did. Smoke, dark and malicious, wafted from the evil being, as if it was burned by some supernatural fire. Every step the arms dealer took seemed to stoke these fires and several gunshots tore into the abomination. They impacted, the peals ringing out, to little effect though. Another sound began echoing out however, and it wasn’t until the smoke gave way from the head to reveal the face of a child, no older than 10, that she realized the sounds were words, repeated over and over in Arabic.

“It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Please, it hurts.”

The child’s eyes were glazed over in pain and tears stain the cheeks. Several more shots rang out, but still nothing happened, the bullets seeming to be absorbed by the grey skin, until a red hole appeared in the child’s forehead. Then, without further warning, the smoke burst forth in a rapidly dissipating cloud and what fell to the floor is no horrific creature. Instead it was the husk of the boy. One whose face she struck a chord within her. He was one of the inform they had passed on the way into the city. His body, though, no seemed to be sucked dry of life and water, as if a swarm of mosquitos had descended onto his flesh. As Malika looked on, his form didn’t so much as twitch from its position.

Mohammed stared on in horror at what lay in the hallway. A child, no older than Hashim lay there, as if in mockery of the Nightmare that had stood there not a minute before. He simply stared at it, hands still shakily gripping his pistol. Only after five minutes, when the corpse did not stir, did he venture out into the hallway.

Other than him, and the dead man and child, the place was empty. The man and woman who had saved his life having retreated back into their room indicated by a thin trail of blood. Whose blood he did not know. Breathing in and trying to calm his nerves he went to the stairs to make sure nothing else would be coming up seeking to harm them. Following the veritable river of blood the creature had left in its wake, he went to the floor below.

He immediately turned away and spewed his small breakfast over the railing.

Closing his eyes tightly, he hoped against hope that he could forget the scene that now seared itself into his memory. He staggered back up the stairs, reeling. When he finally got to the top, he found the woman made of sand and the man with the gun were just exiting their room. Slung over the shoulders of the man wearing the tattered remains of clothes, perhaps once of fine quality, is a large duffel bag and in his arms, is an assault rifle. The woman follows him,in what might have been a flattering dress at one point in time, but is now ripped and shredded to allow for a broad range of movement. She holds a pistol in her hands and a durable backpack hangs off her shoulders. Something else catches his eye on the woman. Looking at her side he finds where the trail of blood came from. A gash in her clothes reveals a line of blood tracing its way across her side, as if a horrible gash had traced its way along her ribcage. What leaves Mohammed confused, however briefly, is that there seems to be no trace of any horrible injury.

Snapping his eyes away from the mystery, “Wait. If you are leaving can you help us? You can kill the demons yes?” he asked gruffly in Arabic, the singular language he knew. He also knew that whatever that thing had been while alive, he had helpless before it, his singular firearm completely ineffective. He had seen other demons, giant herd animals and lizards, and had heard tales in the brief time of more. If he had any hope of keeping Hashim and Abdul alive, these two would be the answer.

The woman spoke up, saying, “We’ve killed a few, but we’ve been lucky so far. We’re not staying here though, and you shouldn’t either.”

“Yes, I have no plans on staying here, but to leave I need to get to the airstrip nearby, it’s to the North, about a thirty minute drive. Can you get us there?” He asks, his deep voice echoing out in the empty halls.

The dark-haired woman turns to the man with the sharp eyes, their eyes meet and a conversation plays out. One without words. Apparently reaching a decision the green-eyed woman brings her attention back to him, “We’ll help you get there if you take us with you on whatever plane you’re taking. That’s why you need to get to the airstrip, right?”

“Yes, I will be taking flying myself, my brother, and my… nephew to Casablanca. Hashim, my nephew, is sick and needs medical care. My brother has many holdings in Casablance, if you wish we can take you two along as well. My name is Mohammed, my brother is Abdul, and Hashim, his son.” A nod is all the confirmation he needed.

“I am Malika and this is…” looking to him another silent conversation ensues, one which, if her distasteful expression has anything to tell, is not to her liking, “Belial.”

Not understanding the meaning of the name Mohammed simply nods his ascent.

Stepping over and attempting to ignore the prone bodies, Mohammed pulls open the ruins of the door that leads into the cramped hotel room. Going to his brother he shakes him awake, the man practically in a stupor, going between consciousness and sleep at varying intervals like a narcoleptic, depending on the intensity of the irritation of his skin. He doesn’t know how to protect his family from this, and eying the flakes of skin beneath Abdul finger nails, he knows there is not much time. Groaning awake, Mohammed tells Abdul to simply follow him as he pulls the shorter man to his feet. Putting his pistol back into its shoulder holster, Mohammed scooped the unconscious Hashim into his broad arms.

Leading his brother behind him Mohammed stoically nods his sign of affirmation. Moving down the stairs, Mohammed tries to speak a warning to the carnage that will be found but finds that he is too late as Malika stands by the railing, facing away from the hallway and hands fastened in a white knuckled grip around the banister. Staying silent, he watches as the super-sand-woman slowly bends and twists the metal in her hands without noticing. Belial simply stands observing the scene in silence before laying a hand on Malika’s shoulder and speaking something in English that he doesn’t understand.

They move quickly from there, whether from a sense of urgency to keep ahead of whatever horrors might come next or desperation to forget the horrors that have already come, none can say.

“The car is a few streets over.” Mohammed said, gesturing with his head to an alley at the side of the building.

As they make their way through the alley, the sound of feet on pavement draws near as does the thudding of something following the former. Drawing to the exit of the alley, which is large enough to drive a car down, a small group of people come into view on the other side of the street, running with a sense of urgency only found in the desperate and scared. Just as come into view however, so does a thick stream of steaming liquid that collide with three of the runners.

Screaming in agony the three stumble and fall, and Mohammed watches on as there flesh turns beet red, some of it pealing away altogether from the intense heat. A massive creature trundles into view then, covered in thick scales along its back and tail. Its head, shaped in the form of a crocodile that bears thick armor and light fur inistead of reptilian scales, opens to consume the hot meals. Before the macabre show even has time to begin, however, another one comes into view and looks in their direction. Blocking their view of the grisly scene, the large creature enters the alley and turns around, pointing its steaming tail in the direction. Taking a guess at what is about to happen next Mohammed grabs hold and throws his brother to the ground with Hashim before covering them both with his broad body.

Instead of his own screams of torment, the sickening crunch of bone followed by the rending of flesh by tooth and fang is what he heard.

After a forever plays out in an instant and the scalding fluids never strike him, Mohammed chances a look back to find a sick perversion of a bipedal raptor dragging the now still corpse of their armored assailant farther into the alley. Gulping down his shock and fear, he watches a formless blob of darkness drop down near the corpse before the all-encompassing black veil falls away to reveal another of these nightmarish creatures without eyes or hands. Looking up he spots one more, clinging to the wall of a building, drop down beside its horrid brethren before ripping into its morning meal, seemingly intent on ignoring their nearby observers. Gritting his teeth and swallowing his instinctual fear at the sight of an unstoppable predator, he throws his dazed brother over one shoulder and Hashim, over the other and runs out into the street, hoping to distance them from the fiends.

He is quickly followed by the other two, but they don’t make it far before they realize that their fate has been sealed, as a large herd of the water blasting creatures line the streets. Mohammed looks to the alley across the way, but even that crosses paths with the snacking animal, busy with its three appetizers. Just as several down the road pitch their tail in the direction of the five does all hell truly break loose.

*SKKKKREEEEEE*

Suddenly the attention of the herd is no longer on the quintet but on the thick pilon of chitin and muscle that towers and writhes above the surrounding structures. Several closest to the Behemoth curl up into a ball while the rest begin spraying their contents with abandon, steam coalescing and shrouding the entire area in a swift blanket of heat and moisture.

Breathing? Check

Heart pumping blood? Check

Lucidity?

...

…

...

Questionable at best by this point.

So, I think it’s safe to say that I am alive. So is Malika, Abdul, Mohammed, and Hashim, although he is still out like a light but I’m pretty sure he’s still breathing.

Probably.

How are we alive you ask?

Yes, indeed how.

Well, you see the answer is really quite simple:

I have no fucking clue.

Not one.

Let’s list all the things that have tried to eat us so far, while Mohammed puts the Bentley in gear.

Oh, yeah that’s another thing, these were the asshats that left us out on the road yesterday.

Anyways, the morning is quickly disappearing, and apparently all the little big beasties decided to extend the hunt this morning.

Who still hunts in the morning you ask?

Large bipedal stegosaurus-pangolin love children? Present

Other large bipedal sharp-toothed shadow cloaking Nightmares? Yup

Iguanas from the Land Before Time? Check

Foxes that have some crazy-ass gene splicing and can now shoot freakin’ lazer out their ass? They’re here

Gigantic, disproportionate Centipede Worm that fell into a vat of toxic waste? Also here

It seems that this entire town has become their official war-zone. The craziest part? Some of them seem utterly content to let us helpless little morsels just walk on by. Like the deadly armless creatures, they just seemed all nice and at ease to let the hairless apes do their thing, like you know, lure in prey into a side alley so that they can ambush it.

They're considerate like that.

The car jostles as the ground shakes beneath us before my view from the passenger seat is completely obstructed by towering, interlocking plates of chitin. Tires screech and Mohammed spins the wheel on a dime, maneuvering the car down a side passage. As we travel parallel to the fallen behemoth, I note the discoloration of its shell. Not unlike the change in coloration of a lobsters’ shell after its been boiled. As scores of streams of overheated water arches over the still monstrosity, I find that analogy apt.

Coming to the end of the street, Mohammed turns the wheel once more and I grip the “Oh shit handle” a little tighter to keep my ass in the seat. Who taught him to drive is something that I resolve myself to find out eventually as the rear-end of the car drifts by a signpost with inches to spare. Barreling out of the turn the car picks up speed, heading for the Northern exit of the town. We’re almost there when the pack of 6-legged foxes that we came across earlier fighting with a bank of lizards, leaps out of a nearby alley with an armored people-eater hot on their heels. Too late, the little bastards see the car and with a heavy thud we run over at least two of the critters before a splash and a sizzle comes from the back. Turning around in my seat as the Bentley rockets out of the town and onto the road, I find the rear window heavily distorted and the trunk warped from the heat radiating from the steaming liquid resting on its surface. Reacting as fast as I can I pull the passed-out Abdul forward just as the window melts in on itself. Catching on Malika does the same, pulling herself and Hashim out of the path of the scorching fluids and partially liquified glass.

A cry of victory catches in Mohammed’s throat as he catches sight of the scene. Pressing buttons as fast as he can, the windows all around the car lower to let the heat dissipate.

Thankfully the airstrip is not far and just as the heat becomes unbearable, we unload from the car. After checking on both Hashim and Abdul, Mohammed helps us carry the two over to a flight hanger. Throwing open the doors he reveals a well-maintained Aerostar 700. A decent sized private airplane with a propeller on either wing. Opening the hatch on the side we load the two meat sacks and buckle them in while the herculean Arab hurriedly runs around to prepare for departure. Honestly after watching him sprint with two people on his shoulders, perhaps Hercules is a distant ancestor?

It doesn’t take long to finish his pre-flight routine and as he begins taxing the plane onto the runway, Malika finds a compartment with food and water. It’s only then that I realize how thirst and hungry I am. Greedily gulping down the supplies I sit back in one of the three passenger seats and look out the window. There’s only three seats back here so once Malika gets the unconscious duo to drink some water she sits down in my lap, gazing out the window with me. As the plane turns and the window opens out towards the west though, I practically jump out of my seat. A distant line of sand and dust stretches across the horizon, and as I watch the surer I am that it’s not part of the scenery. It’s a sandstorm. It’s coming our way and if we don’t gain enough altitude before it hits…

Shit.

Leaving Malika with the seat I head into the cockpit and take the copilots seat. It hasn’t been that long since I got my own license and if needed I could probably pilot this thing. As the plane picks up speed and I keep an eye on the altimeter, the wall of sand draws ever nearer with unnerving speed.

50 meters. The sand is no longer a blip on the horizon.

100 meters. The sand consumes the dunes in the distance.

150 meters. The sand swallows the rock pillars that lords over this desert.

200 meters. The sand engulfs the shattered town and its embattled inhabitants.

250 meters. The wind begins to buffet the plane, shaking us, we’re so close.

...

We’re not going to make it.

300 meters. The view cuts off from all around us and the plane-

Malika is here.

She’s in the cockpit with us, face screwed up in concentration and hand braced onto our seats to keep her standing as the plane flies onward and up, spontaneously unaffected by the maelstrom that surrounds us. A dark shape looms in the distance, its size unimaginable. The sand obscures it from my sight but I doubt I would want to see it at all.

Like we were never there to begin with, blue sky bursts out all around us, but we continue to climb. Malika collapses to a knee, breathing heavy and sweating profusely, before making her way back to a seat and strapping herself in. Higher and higher until the sandstorm of hidden horrors is but a small ripple on the landscape below us. Leveling off the plane in a Northwest by West bearing, Mohammed relaxes ever so slightly before casting a worried glance into the back of the plane. I gesture to the handle, hoping that my message is clear.

My intentions translate and he releases the controls for the plane to me. Unstrapping himself he heads back to check on his family.

“Did you see that?” the question rings out in my head, unspoken. I keep my eyes forward as I check out as much of the system as I can. Delaying the inevitable reality that question forces.

“I don’t know. I thought it was a play of the light at first." Hesitate here for I know it was no illusion. "It was huge. What else is out here?” I ask back speaking the thought clearly in my head.

I can feel the worry she projects, as clear as her words, as is her exhaustion, “I was able to push the sand back a little and ask the Wind for safe passage but when I did, I found something watching us. It knew we were there but it was curious. I feel so tired, my strength barely held out to get us out of there. I don’t know what it would have done to us if we didn’t make it out” Her fear is palpable in that last statement

Nodding my head, I make my sense of affirmation clear. What could we have done?

Nothing, that’s what.

I sit there, deep in thought. These abilities, powers, magic, call it what you will, reside in everything that is not normal. The monsters, if the news I have heard is to be trusted, came out of the Central Algeria. After meeting said monsters, sickness ensues. Most die. But we lived? Maybe those that live turn into something else? Like the abomination back in the hotel or like me and Malika? I feel like I’m missing something here though, something important. Where did these monsters come from? Well, when the plane crashed…

Oh no.

The arrival of the sand monsters was signified by a minor EMP, however, the one that brought down the plane was said to have originated at the poles. If there were things like this coming out in the arctic how long would it take for the world to notice?

Mohammed comes back into the pilot’s seat just then, looking worse for the wear. Bags under his eyes seem to just appear as he eases into his seat and exhaustion pours out of him in waves. His eyes close and he is asleep before his head hits the backrest.

I look back out of the cockpit and find Malika unconscious as well.

Well they said Casablanca, I know the general direction and they have a GPS installed to the side. I just have to figure out how to use it. I also need to figure out the rest of the system and buttons laid out around the cabin.

Which just so happen to be explained and written out in Arabic.

While also trying to fly this plane across Algeria and then cross the borders of a supposed quarantined zone, likely speaking to over radio in Arabic.

All the while multitude of Arab speaker are out for the count.

Perfect.