This World Is Not My Home by D.J. Butler

Author:D.J. Butler [Butler, D.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: pulp fiction, horror, fallen angels, urban fantasy, rock and roll, action adventure, occult
Publisher: WordFire Press
Published: 2016-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

“Maybe your friend can help!” Eddie snaps.

He fires over and over with his boomer. The empty shells from his weapon spin out into the air and rain around me. Mike fires too, but I think he’s missing every shot.

“Aim low!” Eddie shouts to the big guy.

We can’t stop her. Can we get away?

“Adrian!” I tuck the doll under my arm and slap the wizard. I’d shake him, but it would hurt my ribs too much.

“Volcanus …” He rubs his face with his hands. He’s struggling.

“Forget the firebolt!” I cry. “Let’s get out of here!”

He perks up a little. “Leave the Queendom?” he asks.

“Abandon Jim?” Eddie barks. “No way!” He fires again.

“No!” Betsy rushes down the hill as fast as an automobile. “We’ll just come back in a different way!”

Eddie slams out the last of his boomer shells, and it looks like he finally hits Buzzard Betsy’s feet. She collapses, slamming into the moist earth like a bomb. Dirt flies up in all directions, and she plows a furrow wide and deep enough to plant hippopotami inside it.

“Ha!” Mike lurches forward onto his hand and empties his shooter into Betsy’s back as she rumbles to a halt.

Eddie grimaces and pushes more shells into the boomer. The sword still dangles from his torn jacket. It looks wrong on him. “Maybe we don’t need to run,” he suggests.

Betsy raises her head. She spits mud from her quadruple-wide maw, vomiting out a croak as loud as thunder.

“Huevos!” Mike falls to his side.

“Into the Outer Bounds!” I shout, and I back through the gate. Mike tries to stand, his face twisted.

“Turn my head!” says a voice. It takes me a moment to recognize it. “I can’t see all the fun!”

Adrian hears it too, and stares. He puts the Eye over his face and stares closely at the doll. Mike staggers towards me, reloading his shooter. Eddie steps deliberately, shooting all the while.

I hold the doll up and point the X’s on her face towards Betsy.

“Oh, yeah,” Pulse chuckles. “You’re in for it now.”

“Unhelpful git,” I call him.

“Where’s your sense of humor?” he chides me.

Betsy lurches to her feet, springing out of the furrow her vast bulk has dug in the earth. She lands with her legs wide apart and her arms spread. The nails on her fingers shine, greasy and ragged, and they look like they’re all pointing my direction.

“Dammit,” Eddie grumbles. “I coulda sold cars for a living.”

But Betsy doesn’t attack. She hangs in the air and quivers. Her beady eyes glitter and her jaw works, snapping open and shut and spraying fetid slobber each time. The Mockers above her circle and cry out.

“Here’s one!” Adrian calls from behind me. “Opens into an empty restroom!”

And Betsy turns and shambles off. Her pace is strange, different from the shamble we’ve seen from her before. She seems to pull back with her shoulders, like the upper part of her is resisting something, and she leads with her vast belly. Her steps are ragged and irregular.

She’s being pulled, is what it looks like.

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