Lucky Shot by Heather Briggs

Prologue It’s dark and cold in Hell. Leigh sighed. If someone were to sit down here in this cold, subterranean darkness with nothing to contemplate; no reason to go on, they would eventually go stark raving mad, but not her; because she had that special something to contemplate. The knowledge of a truth that so many wished they had. Knowledge that would set her on the path to cleaning the world; cleansing of the simple minds that propel others to their own damnation. She had the knowledge to succeed in that cleansing. The others would soon be arriving, descending into her hell. Fairly average on the surface, the others all held very specific keys that would help her unleash the pain that burns her insides with the ferocity of only the lowest reaches of Hades itself. Everything is going to unfold perfectly, she knows because, that’s the way that it is supposed to be. What has begun must eventually end. That’s the way it has been since the beginning of time. Nothing can last forever, nor should it. * * * Bodies. Everywhere. They littered the ground under Lucky’s feet. Some were in pieces, others whole, but they were all hardly recognizable as human. They lay in twisted, cruel shapes on the muddy ground. A scream formed in her throat, but was cut off just a quickly. Something was moving on the other side of the bloody field. She stifled her fear, and began to make her way in the direction of the movement. There is definitely someone else here, she thinks, just on the outside of the carnage. As if they can’t bear to enter the grotesque resting place that was chosen for these poor people. “Who’s there?” She ventured a tentative inquiry as she picked her way through the bodies. The fear that she had experienced a moment ago was starting to wane. Her logical mind tells her to still tread lightly so as not to frighten whatever was out there. What if it is the person responsible for this mess? Her mind screams. Still, she doesn’t feel the evil that would be necessary for someone to be capable of this atrocious scene. Lucky has always had a certain intuition when it comes to people’s character that had never failed her before, and there is no warning from this person. No quiet whisper in her ear that this could be a bad move. She needs to know who this person is and why they are here. Trying again for an answer, she says, “I asked you a question. Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?” A faint sound came to her on the muggy breeze, as if this person had tried to speak, but failed. Suddenly a frustrated sound tore through the air. It was the howl of a beast. Not human, not animal, but a weird blend of both. The figure began moving, shifting. Morphing? Lucky wondered. She couldn’t be positive, but it was like the movement in one of those horror movies. That sharp, twisting jerk. Luckys’ heart pounded with anticipation. Something very important was happening, but what exactly was a mystery to her. As her heart pounded, her feet moved faster. She sloshed through the gore, blood puddling in her footprints. The figure still twisted and howled on the other side of the field. The sound was beginning to throb in her head. She quickened her step, hoping that getting to it faster would stop the noise. As she reached the end of the field the figures movements slowed, then gradually stopped. Its shape was that of a human, but distorted a bit. She came to a stop only ten feet away and the things’ head turned to her. Of all the things that she was expecting, the crushed visage was not one of them. A mass of pulp, crushed bone, torn flesh, and tendon. The only part that was considerably whole was the right eye. Her heart stopped. Not the eye of a human as one would expect, but that of a snake. Green and elongated, the pupil seemed to glow. Sudden recognition stalled her heart and her knees gave out beneath her. The creature’s mouth opened and a tortured moan seeped out. Working its mangled jaw, it managed two clear words, “Help them.” Its eye flashed brighter, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was in the presence of the one person that she thought she would never see again. Her brother. Killed in a self-inflicted car accident when Lucky was eight, this man should not be standing before her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t respond. He reached for her hand, and she took it without a thought as to the broken and bloody fingers. As she stood her eyes let go of the moisture that had gathered, and the tears elicited another pained moan from her brothers tortured throat. He took her gently by the shoulders and turned her to face the field that she had just trudged through. Her attention had been solely on him once she had recognized him, and now the pain of what had happened to all of these people returned to her with the strength of a tidal wave. Her mind suddenly filled with her brother’s deep voice, “Only you. Help.” His broken words rang over, and over through her tortured brain. His message was clear, but why her? What had happened to these people, and how was she supposed to stop it? “I don’t understand. How can I help these people? How will I find out what has happened to them?” No answer was forthcoming from her brother, and just as suddenly as he had appeared across the field from her, he was gone. The pain of his departure was equal to the pain of his original demise, and she once again sank to the mud below her. Don’t leave me again, her mind screamed, I need you. Her pleas fell on silence, and her eyes opened to a new fear. The bodies began to move. Not just around the field, but towards her. Severed hands reached out for her, battered heads rolled to implore her with their eyes. All at once the field filled with a desperate scream of terror from the hundreds of massacred people. Lucky covered her ears, and joined the damned with her own scream of terror. Chapter One Lucky bolted awake, still safe in her bed. No field of blood, no massacred body parts, and thankfully no grotesque face of a brother that had been long departed from this world. Just her bed, her room, and the sun beaming through her window. It seemed almost ugly for the sun to shine so bright in the wake of a nightmare like the one she had just had. Shake it off, she told herself. It’s just another day, no different than any other. Her level of stress lately is probably the reason for such terrible things to be able to leech onto her dreams. Throwing the blankets back, she swung her feet to the hardwood floor. Looking down to locate her constantly AWOL slippers, she let rip a scream that would rival that of any horror film victim. Her feet were covered in blood. She launched herself off of her bed and towards the bathroom, leaving a macabre trail behind her. Lucky stripped from her stained nightshirt faster than she ever had before. Twisting the knobs of the shower to the hottest possible position, she threw herself into the tub. She poured the entire bottle of shampoo over her body, and scrubbed until she was raw. She frantically searched her body, until looking down at her feet; she realized that nothing was running down the drain except for clear water. She slammed the water off, and threw open the shower curtain. The nightshirt that she had dropped on the tile floor was just as clean as when she put it on the night before, and the trail that she was sure she had left from her bed was also gone. What the hell? She wondered. She climbed out of the shower, and dripping wet, made her way to the bed. She threw back the covers to reveal clean sheets. Shaking, she replaced the bedding in a pile, and went back into the bathroom. Standing before her reflection, she wondered if she was losing her mind. Something wasn’t right. She had seen the blood; she had felt the wet stickiness on her body. Still fresh in her mind was the smell of it. Like burnt copper, hot and cloying.