The Hunting Beast a serial by Martin Slusser

Janissary Project: Book XI. The latest installment of the misadventures of Benny Grey focus heavily on his late Uncle Carl whose soul has been taken over by a vicious demon. It tells of Carl's ultimately successful attempts to drive off the demon from within while facing up to his own shortcomings.

Viva la coca - The shon:gili loped through a scabby line of black willows. He slowed, ducking off into an old warehouse. The river was close enough to smell the oily reek of dead fish and the methane stench of rotting sewerage.

a big mixed breed - For both the shon:gili and the dog, minutes past in slow torment. The dog was a big mixed breed weighing more than one hundred pounds. A broad leather collar studded with black spikes was his only adornment. He was brown with darker splotches across a smooth coat.

I shall punish thee - With the demon raging in him, the shon:gili fed on the dog. When he had taken all the stringy flesh he could gnaw from the carcass, he got up and began to run. Philadelphia was close. Already they were moving passed fortified enclaves. The reek of manure was strong, as were the stench of raw sewerage and the murky odor of sludge from methane digesters.

She makes me melt - Mike had thoughts of his own that didn’t include tea. Bed, yes. Not for sleeping, though. Creel was hard on his heels as Mike edged across the narrow street to examine what Chong inserted in the bricks.

Change, you rip - Carl/shon:gili loped down into a thickening area of post-development Philadelphia. The centuries old city of brotherly love lay in ruins. Here and there in swirling tendrils of mist he passed home that were well lit and held the scent of old pain. Angry spirit stopped their eternal stalking to stare after the shon:gili. The animal ignored them, so Carl did, too, sort of. They came to a long stretch of desolate road. Trees hung with mists. The scent of homes here was long gone.

Wolf’s Child - Benny frowned in his sleep. His dream was walking through a deep forest. Shafts of sunlight filtered through arching branches to show the tiny white blossoms of some plant. Mushrooms grew in the cool shade. A mouse stuck its nose out of a hole in one trunk to wiggle its whiskers at him.

I am a god - A snarl bared the shon:gili’s teeth. Why? You been wanting me to kill somebody for you. Now I’m here, and the fruit is going to be dead.

All the world is dying - A black scowl on his face, Benny moved down the path with the hair on the back of his neck prickling. It shivered once. He froze, his gaze making a slow sweep of the forest and up, into the branches.

Just get me out of here - Tommy moved back from the woman. Harrison was naked and eager. He leaped forward only to be knocked to the floor. Tommy glanced at Carl.

Needles and broads and needles and Leda - Tommy roused himself from a drug-induced lethargy to yawn and stretch over the corpse of the woman. According to the watch she wore, it was past five in the afternoon. The sun would be setting soon. Harrison lay sprawled on the mat near Tommy, his left arm a pale shade of blue from the rubber strap still twisted around it. The needle lay where Harrison dropped it. Tommy whispered a hollow laugh.

this piece of trash - Too many would suffer if he died. No, Carl, lay off the mean looks. Compared to those that want to replace him, he’s nothing. A mojon. But the Project sees him as important. Do you know a better way to get Benny in the deep end of the sewer?

A’wakayka - Yes, praise the Lord. The Great Invasion. The invasion that will make the Spaniards and English look like nothing. The native peoples will be the winners, though. The ones that live in the old ways, in Creator’s purity. Blues and ‘breeds like my old man and me, we rise up and slaughter the evil ones. The Cleansing, sugar.

a warning chime - Mike Donnelly was roused from his sleep by a warning chime. He lay stretched on the lumpy hotel bed and yawned. There was a weak snort, then a warning cough before a flurry of sneezes rocked the room. Mike grimaced. He checked the time. After six.

Thou shalt not - The plates slid away and night poured in. A tendril of mist drifted up the side of the car. Carl/shon:gili snarled at it. Whimpering, Harrison slid down to huddle on the floor. The demon withdrew the wall of sparks around Carl. Carl/shon:gili arose and stretched, his tongue curling out of his mouth in a jaw-cracking yawn. He cocked a leg over Harrison.

old hat - The shon:gili tensed for a leap that would take Henri to the grave. Smiling, Henri pulled out the bone. The shon:gili snarled and backed away. He turned, racing into the night.

a large, powerful dog - Benny walked across the street from the man. The guy smelled of tea. Tea? Since the cold war started with the princes of Asia, tea cost more than coffee.

shon-gili - Benny saw the cab drop. Half a block away, he waited. Donnelly and the skinny jerk. Donnelly wanted Sue. Wanted to bed her, and Benny’s temples swelled, and his face darkened. All because Benny knocked up Sweet Bottom Donnelly, Mike’s sister. All the agents trained in the belief they were America’s only shield. They were beaten into believing they were the world’s top studs. For Mike, to use Sue would be an act of revenge.

why are you so late? - The agent stopped a few doors down from the shack and waited. He had the boy, but the girl was still too ill to remove.

Stunned and shocked - Mike settled in to wait for Sue. He winced. To wait for Benny. Dolores brought a hot toddy for Creel. The man blinked, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

My lady - Her head tipped in acknowledgment of the bow. As a cousin of the emperor of all Asia, it was only her due.

Is the girl healing? - The agent scooped up Benny and angled out the door. He hurried through the night to Antone’s Place before lying the man on the street. Silver flashed, and he tapped a needle into Benny’s arm.

a couple of pounds of meat and deep fried potatoes - Benny slunk through what remained of the bar crowd. In his hip pocket were a few credits, and under his arm a couple of pounds of meat and deep fried potatoes. The potatoes were from Mitch’s aquaponics unit fed by wastewater stolen from the city sewers. Everything went through worm beds and a methane digester, so it was sterilized before it got to the plants.

Pleasure, not business - Mike held a sagging Creel and waited for their cab. It would be easier to bring a car or their own vehicle, but the city herr-mayor put his foot down. No car could be driven through a Dead Zone.

Bathroom - Mike stared at the ceiling for hours. With a savage groan, he threw himself at the bathroom for a cold shower. The TriV chimed call waiting.

The body was stiff - Staring at the guard, the Harvester swelled, his face reddening. He choked and motioned at Johnson to go around to the cab.

the three Harvesters - Corpses stumbled out reaching for the three Harvesters. Backing away, the men pulled pistols and began to fire. Body parts scorched and smoke. A head exploded, the brains already turning green, but the body stumbled on. The first Harvester was dragged down. He was dropped screaming into the grinder. The grinder shrieked, the knives jammed on the body armor.

A trap - In the distance, a wolf cried out to Creator. On the hotter, western half of the American Dome, buffalo grunted and circled, the bulls pushing the cows and calves into the center of a black herd.

Purification - With a deep feeling of relief and satisfaction, Mike sat at the corner table in Antone’s with Chong near him. Part of these feelings came from the fact that Creel was face down on the table across from the two men, not slumped and sighing on his shoulder.

All of life is froth with dangers - Chong wheezed and covered his face, but Mike saw the laughter gleaming in the Asian’s eyes.

Beware the Emperor - Benny slid from the bar weary and aching but with food in the sack and plastic credits in his pocket. Jason made a quip about him being henpecked. Benny only flipped him the bird, earning Benny a weary shout from Mitch that was more by instinct than ire.

We have to win the war - We have to win the war. Right now it’s all in shadows, a dark world where men slip around corners and hide in closets, lingering at keyholes. Where they slide bombs and bacteria into hiding places and palaces. All too soon it’ll be with nuclear bombs. Asia lost a billion people in the plagues. We’re still dying. How many do you know that died?

Der Reischtag Ekwig - The bottle in Tommy’s hand froze inches from his mouth. It fell to the floor and rattled under the rack. The judge was frozen, staring, the tendons in his arms straining as both fists clenched again the clamps in his groin. Tommy felt it as a growing ache in the scars. They were always filled with pain. Sometimes nothing but a twinge, other times it was a rasping burn.

Got a stove upstairs. Cook it - Anna stood to one side while the men unloaded the truck. They cracked jokes and shared coffee from a thermos. One of the men thrust a package at her. Taken aback, Anna took it.

A fresh bottle in hand - A fresh bottle in hand, Tommy sauntered into the vault and to the rack. The judge’s screams were silent now, his eyes bulging, and every tendon stark and white. The leather strap on one wrist began to tear with the force of the judge’s pain.

Harrison stopped weeping - When Harrison stopped weeping, Tommy loosened the straps and fed him pieces of raw meat fresh from the packages in the bomb shelter.

The rats are heading deeper - Without waiting for the demon to order him, the shon:gili raced up through the sewer with water splashing around him. The man he carried was bouncing on the walls and almost tore free.

Let me alone, beloved one - Grumbling and muttering, Tommy slid off the rack to the levers. He touched the one that pulled the legs apart. The legs slid a fraction further, and the judge began to struggle. Tommy released the wooden pin, and the legs went flaccid.

There has to be an inlet - Water began to rise around his legs, but the shon:gili churned through it. The hunter was silent now, drifting through the water with them. He wasn’t stiff yet, and the demon wanted him alive to feed on the terror and the soul.

Face dark with rage - Glass shattered in the stairwell. Tommy wandered up from the playroom with a belly full of Scotch made in another, distant century.

Booby-trap - A door slammed, and the rear opened, the door rattling up. A long black rod slid in with an electric hiss, and a butcher screamed. He lunged away and into Anna. Her cloak slipped, and the Harvester gasped.

Too much like home - The truck backed around, and a guard opened the gates. It slid back on compressed air and electronic magnets. The drive waved at the guard.

the TriV - Mike lay on the bed with his hands behind his head. The TriV slid out, and the little devil’s face leered.

You could crack walnuts with them things - Slamming the door shut, Henri tipped his hat at that fine looking prosecutor from Juvvie Hall. Even wearing comfortable shoes, the ash blond stood nearly eye-to-eye with a sweating Henri. She adjusted a pair of horn rim glasses, peering in the dark tinted windows.

Sing softly, little doves of war - Anna huddled before a hidden fire. Smoke seeped from the cracks in the stove. She moved her coat up to stop from sneezing.

Real rabbit and not alley rabbit? - On silent feet the family stole from the room. Carl squatted with his back to the wall and the sun on his face. Under a cache of rubble and plaster lathes, rodents nibbled at the corpse. One of Carl’s ears noted it, pointing at the cache. The rats stilled and slid away.

My son is in danger - With a half dozen grim men around her, Anna set off through another Dead Zone into a dark zone that lay on the verge of Lord Penn’s turf. Each of them carried a plastic credit with Penn’s face and Royal Palm emblem. An hour ago there were two others, cut down in a firefight. The men lived but were too wounded to go on.

Because he’s my son - Carl was dozing again. The aftertaste of burned plastic was a minor annoyance that disturbed his rest.

Man in the back - Mike waited outside of Benny’s shack for the kid to emerge. Creel was already in Antone’s ogling the barmaids and getting drunk on hot toddies.

Gimme what I come for - Hidden in a small room behind the drawing room, a man sat, recording everything. With every word from Anna, the needle in one of the tiny machines shot into the deepest blue zone and held there. He stared at the truth detector and shivered.

Is that your final answer? - He hesitated for a moment. Sue was clinging to the boy, and Benny’s cheek was on her head, his hand stroking her back. Grasping JJ by the collar, he dragged the man through the house and out to the street. Chong dumped JJ in a pile of trash and left him there.

Raiders - Henri glanced into the rearview mirror to chortle at Harrison. A car was following them. Not one of the jalopies that people built of spare parts, but a sleek black thing that hung low over the road and depended on magnetic airlifts to move.

Lord Baron Harrison, sir - Henri was scowling. He was careful, though, to be gentle when helping the judge from the ground.

She had her shots - The chauffeur was tall and dark. He was cold, his features lean and wolf-hungry as the dark eyes roamed her body. A quiver started in her middle.

Art a fool, slave! - Thee liveth. The demon was cold. Carl pulled himself away from a corpse to squat on bare heels, huddled against the chill of the grave. A few rotting bones decorated the place. The pit was an open manhole, the iron cover missing, tunnels caved in, and the ladder gone. An oubliette, some gang’s prison hole.

A bug, in my bath - Trapped in the manhole, Carl spent the day thinking and tormenting the demon. A small pile of rubble lay under his feet.

They’re all wolves - He was knocked back. Benny buried the knife in its chest, but the jaws closed on his shoulder, and fangs scratched the skin under the coat.

owl vomit - The city was dark and cold. In the hills, the air would still plunge into below zero digits each night, the sap freezing in the trees. Here, it was barely below forty. Anna shivered at the bite of damp chill coming up the river from the Bay.

A needle gun hissed - It hissed down the club and over his hand. He shrieked, trying to drop the club, then throw it away. The fire roared over him. Tommy screamed a shrill, high wail and raced into the night a living torch.

A mouthful of teeth - The shon:gili pounced only to throw himself away with the demon cursing and foam running from the squat muzzle.