Worlds on Fire

By Edward Punales

Armies from other planets, mad scientists, and blood thirsty monarchs; heralds of the apocalypse, destroyers of worlds, creatures that bring devastation wherever they go. These are tales of nations gone awry, bloody revolutions, and overwhelming destruction.

This is a book, about the ones who set worlds on fire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward Punales
• Release date: Aug 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311390127

Edward Punales

I’m a writer, poet, filmmaker, and lover of mythology, science fiction, art, and cheeseburgers.  I’ve published three short story collections, written and/or directed a handful of short films, regularly publish new work on my Medium page, and have spent way too much time on the internet watching old vine complications. I used to write under the pen name Edward Lange, but I switched to my real name in 2015. I live in South Florida.

Book preview

WORLDS ON FIRE

EDWARD PUNALES

© 2014, 2015, 2016 Edward Punales / All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

Cover: Detail from The Triumph of Death (1562) by Pieter Bruegel the Elder

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the copyright holder.

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

AUTHOR’S NOTES

First, I just want to set the record straight to avoid any confusion. Some of these stories were originally published under the pen name Edward Lange. They have been republished here under my real name. Second, this book contains strong language and graphic violence. Reader discretion is advised.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

NORTH POLE

THE RHINO HUNTERS

BEASTS OF WAR

FLESH

MONSTERS WIN WARS

BLOOD OF GOD

KINGDOM OF FRANKENSTEIN

ALSO BY EDWARD PUNALES

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

NORTH POLE

Dr. Martin Jules sat in his office at the Macready Air Force Base, trying to keep warm.

His office, which doubled as his sleeping quarters, was a small trailer that sat next to one of the hangers on the base. Normally the hangar would be filled with the sound of people running about, and aircraft preparing to take off. But not tonight. Greenland was preparing for one of the worst snow storms in its history. The windows on all the buildings had been boarded up, and everyone was ordered to stay indoors.

This sat well with Jules. Being the base’s chief physician, he was regularly inundated with patients. Hypochondriacs mostly, worried that every blemish or blotch was a sign of frostbite. He normally didn’t mind these amusing visits, but today was different.

He stared at the picture of Karen that sat on his desk. She smiled at him through the glass frame, her round happy face sitting under a head of long brown hair.

He could still hear his sister-in-law’s voice, crying over the phone as she gave him the news. That had been only a few days ago, but it felt like a lot longer. He’d spent most of the last few days sitting in his office alone. He barely ate anything, barely slept, and the only people he interacted with were his patients. Most of the time, he just sat and stared at that picture, as if doing that would make everything better.

A knock at the door took his mind from his thoughts. He got up, and opened the door. A rush of cold wind smacked Jules, and he had to cover his face. Standing in the doorway was an old man in a military uniform, with gray hair and a black scarf across his face. The man at the door quickly ducked inside, and Jules closed the door behind him. The small shed suddenly felt colder, and Jules began to rub his hands.

We have an SOS. The man said, his voice hoarse and raspy. He stood next to Jules’ desk, brushing snow off his uniform. Even before he took off his scarf, Jules knew who it was; Sergeant Bill Arthur, head of the motor pool. He removed the scarf, revealing the thin gray moustache underneath.

From who? Jules asked.

We don’t know. The signal came from about a hundred and fifty miles north of here.

Who the hell is stationed out there? Jules said. He was glad to have something to do, to keep his mind off what was going on in his head.

I don’t know. Arthur said. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. We’ve checked our maps. There aren’t any bases or research outposts out that way.

Maybe someone got too far from an outpost. Have any of the outposts nearby reported anyone missing?

No, and we’ve tried to call a few of them. Arthur lit his cigarette. Half the ones we called didn’t get back to us. Probably because of the storm. In any case, the colonel wants one doctor and one driver out there to check it out.

Just two people?

Everyone else is busy working on getting the base ready; putting up shutters, making sure the dogs are secure, stuff like that.

I’ll get my jacket. Jules said. He went to the back of the trailer, bent over, and pulled out the jacket that he’d kept under his bunk. It was an old, green military jacket. He put it on, and walked to his desk. Next to the chair was a small leather bag. It was filled with bandages, morphine, stitches, and other supplies for medical emergencies. Will we be able to beat the storm?

The worst of it isn’t supposed to hit for another few hours. If we book it in one of the trucks, we should be okay. Worst-case scenario, we need to stay the night out there in the truck.

Truck can hold. And we can give shelter to whoever is hurt. Jules said. He knew it’d be risky, but it was an SOS. Somewhere out in this perpetual winter hellhole, someone was hurt, and in trouble. They were the only base nearby, and had an obligation to help.

They went outside, and he felt himself pounded by the biting cold wind. Flecks of snow crashed into his face, stinging his cheeks. He looked around. Through the thick sheets of snow, he could make out some of the other buildings of the base. Most of the windows were covered by metal storm shutters. The hangar doors were closed, and the runways were cleared of people and aircraft.

The world is coming to an end, Arthur shouted over the roar of the wind. And you and me are the only ones stupid enough to go outside.

Yeah, Jules smirked. He’d always had mixed feelings toward the Sergeant’s bitter sense of humor. But at that moment, with a sickening tightness in his chest caused by grief, it felt appropriate. It made him feel oddly better.

The truck, a squat green military transport vehicle with six wheels, sat parked next to one of the latrines. It resembled an RV, except the cab was separated from the back like a normal truck. Though it wasn’t meant to transport multiple critical patients (which would be the worst-case scenario) they could still use it to get people back to the base if necessary.

Jules and Arthur climbed into the truck, and sat on the cold leather seats. Arthur turned on the engine and the heater. Warm air poured out through the vents, and Jules held his cold hands in front of them.

Do we know how many people have been hurt? Jules asked.

No. Arthur answered, as he put the truck in gear.

Do we have any idea what happened? Car crash? Polar bear attack?

Nothing. Just an SOS, and the longitude and latitude.

No one else is coming with us?

Nope.

Alright. Jules sighed.

I heard about your wife. Arthur said. I’m sorry.

Thanks.

Car crash, right?

Drunk driver.

Scumbag. Arthur scowled.

Yeah. Jules felt his eyes get watery, and quickly rubbed at them.

Listen, if you don’t feel up to this, that’s okay. I can talk to the colonel and get one of the other doctors or one of the nurses to come instead.

No, no. I can do it. Jules shook his head.

You sure?

Yeah. Besides, it’d probably be good to do some work, keep my mind busy.

Arthur nodded, and said, Okay. He turned back to the windshield, and turned on the high beams. Jules heard the thick snow crunch under the big rubber tires, as they drove to the chain-link fence that surrounded the base. A lone sentry, shivering in the night air, opened the gate for them, and they drove out.

The landscape before them was barren and white. The snow fall had gotten so thick, that it was hard to see more than a few yards in front of the truck. Though their visibility was poor, they knew that this clear empty landscape stretched on for a long time. Their base was the only bit of civilization for hundreds of miles. Once they left its safety, they would be at the mercy of the harsh polar lands.

They drove out into that snow-covered desert, and the car bumped as Arthur went off the road. Jules sat looking at a map that he’d taken from the glove compartment. He found the coordinates of the SOS signal; nothing within a hundred mile radius of that spot.

What do we know about the area where the SOS came from? Jules asked. Does that region have any kind of history of accidents?

Not really. Arthur said. This is the first SOS call we’ve gotten from that part of Greenland.

We don’t know anything about this place?

Arthur shrugged. Air traffic control says they’ve occasionally picked up unidentified signals on their radar from there.

What kind of signals?

UFOs. We’ve never been able to check it out because of the weather. They’ve never caused a problem in the past.

What do you think it is?

I don’t know. Could be a secret military base for all I know.

But who’s base?

I have no idea.

Jules was silent. He turned back to the windshield. The sheets of snow kept falling heavier and heavier, and it became harder and harder to see, even with the high beams.

It’ll probably take us a little while to get there. Arthur said. Why don’t you try to take a nap?

No, I’m fine.

You have bags under your eyes.

Jules looked at his reflection in the side-mirror outside the passenger side window. Even with all the snow splattered on it, Jules could still see his haggard, tired looking face.

He hadn’t slept much these last few nights. Half the time he couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep. And when he could fall asleep, he’d be plagued by strange dreams; nightmares where he’d witness the car crash that’d killed his wife. He’d hear her scream for help, while he stands by, unable to do anything. But worse than the nightmares, were the good dreams; the ones were Karen was with him, happy and alive. He’d wake from these dreams with a pang of loneliness so painful it was paralyzing.

It may help you to get some rest before we get to wherever we’re going. Arthur said. We don’t know how bad its gonna be, or how long we’ll be out there.

Yeah. Jules nodded. I guess you’re right.

I’ll wake you when we get there.

Thanks. Jules rested his head against the spot where the back of the cab met the door, using his arm as a pillow. He closed his tired eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t dream.

Doc! Wake up! Arthur said, shaking Jules by his shoulder. Jules opened his groggy eyes with a start. He wasn’t sure if he’d had any dreams while he napped. If he did he couldn’t remember them. And for that, he was grateful.

Are we there yet? Jules asked, rubbing his eyes. His vision was still a little blurry.

Look. Arthur pointed out the windshield. Jules turned, and he suddenly became very awake. Standing about fifty yards away, in the middle of the white landscape, was a mansion.

Jules rubbed eyes, but it didn’t help. Arthur stopped the truck. The two men sat in silence.

The mansion stood two stories high. Its dirty bricks were a brownish red color. Atop its slanted roof were three spires that soared a few dozen feet above the house. All the windows were dark, some of them cracked and broken. Most of the window shutters hung by a single hinge; others lay on the ground around the house.

What the…Arthur trailed off, as he stared at the mansion. Jules scratched at his chin, his fingernails combing over the bristles on his unshaven face.

After a time, Arthur said, Give me the map.

Jules gave him the map, and watched as Arthur pulled a compass out of his pocket. After a few tense moments, Arthur looked up, his eyes wider than ever.

What is it? Jules asked.

I was double checking the coordinates for the SOS signal. Arthur said, putting the compass back into his pocket. According to this, the signal is coming from the house.

Jules looked at the house, a deep pit forming in his stomach. In all his years stationed in the arctic, he’d never even imagined anything like this. Just looking at it made him feel sick. He had no idea what this thing was doing there in the middle of the frozen tundra, who could’ve built it, when it was built, or why someone would want to build it.

He shook these thoughts from his head. They didn’t matter. Somewhere in that place, someone had called for help. Someone was hurt, and it was his duty to help them.

But the house. It made him feel uneasy. The jagged lines of its corners, the darkness of its windows, the sheer size of it; all came together to form a frightening and foreboding picture in his head. Childhood nightmares of dark, strange places began to float up to the surface of his mind. Every impulse inside him told him to go the other way; to tell Arthur to turn around, and drive back to the base.

Doc? Arthur said. You okay?

Yeah. Jules nodded, snapping back to reality. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, and felt ashamed. He was a professional. More than that, he was an adult. He didn’t have time for this. Let’s go up there.

Yes sir. Arthur said. His voice was shaky, and his face was pale, but he drove toward the mansion all the same. Jules stared out the window. The childish fright was gone, but the pit in his stomach remained.

You ever heard of anything like… Jules trailed off. They’d parked in front of the house.

Arthur shook his head. Like I said, aside from the odd radar signal, we don’t know anything about this place.

Jules nodded. He looked back outside the windshield. Descending from the mansion’s front door was a long staircase. A few of its bricks appeared loose or missing. The concrete railing on the left side was gone, but the one on the right was still intact. The sergeant turned off the engine of the truck.

You ready? The sergeant said.

Yeah. Jules said, forcing the word from his mouth. He bent down and picked up the black leather bag at his feet.

Just one second. Arthur said. He leaned over, and opened up the glove compartment. Inside was a Berretta M9 sidearm. Arthur pulled out the pistol, cocked it, and stuck it in the belt of his pants. He looked back up at Jules, and gave a sideways smile. Just in case.

If you say so. Jules chuckled. He would’ve been embarrassed to admit it, but the sight of the gun made him feel safer.

He buttoned up his trench coat, and hopped out of the truck. The relative warmth of the cab was ripped from him, as the harsh winds sliced through his coat, and seeped into his bones. His feet sunk into the deep snow, and he felt it soak his socks. It traveled a few inches up his pant legs, and stung the bare skin above his socks. Flecks of snow crashed into his eyes, and he wished he’d brought glasses.

He closed his door, and heard Arthur do the same thing on the other side. They both trudged through the snow, and met in front of the hood. The sergeant handed him a flashlight. He turned it on, and shined it on one of the second-story windows of the house. In the beam of the light, he saw something move.

Did you see that!? Jules asked. He kept the beam on the window. There was nothing but the glare of the light’s reflection on the dirty glass.

See what? Arthur asked.

That window, I thought I saw something. Jules trailed off.

What did you see?

I don’t… Jules shook his head, as he stared at the window. And saw nothing.

Let just go in, okay?

Jules nodded, though he lingered on the window a moment longer before putting his flashlight down.

They walked knee deep in snow, to the frost covered steps of the mansion. They slowly walked up the steps, careful not to slip. Jules’ eyes darted about the mansion, constantly checking to see if anything else was moving behind those old windows. He saw nothing.

What he did see was just how decrepit the mansion looked. It didn’t exactly look brand new when he saw it from inside the truck, but it wasn’t until he was up close that he could start to see the neglect. Half the windows were dotted with spider web cracks. There were holes and cracks in the walls. Whoever owned this house didn’t seem to care very much about maintaining it.

Or maybe something had happened to them.

They reached the top of the stairs, and came to the entrance. It was a large set of wooden double doors with brass handles and ornate carvings.

Hello! Arthur yelled. Anyone inside?!

Jules stood tense, waiting for a response. Arthur grabbed onto the door handle, and tried to open it. The door didn’t budge.

Is it locked? Jules asked.

No. Arthur said. I’m able to click the latch, but I think the door’s stuck.

Damn.

We’re gonna try to ram it.

Okay. Jules nodded.

On three. One. Two. Three! The two men crashed their bodies into the door, and it immediately gave.

Jules tripped on the threshold, and crashed face first onto a cold carpet. It was soft and smelled of mold.

Doc you okay? Arthur asked, standing over him.

Jules pushed himself off the floor, and nodded. He said, Yeah I’m good. Arthur pulled him up, and they surveyed their new surroundings.

The doorway had led them to the end of a long dark hallway. The ceiling hung high above their heads. There were no lights, and Jules suddenly felt like he’d walked into a cave.

Hello! Arthur