Major Karnage (17 page)

“Don’t look back, soldier!” Karnage shouted through the cacophony.
“Don’t look back! Keep running! Keep running, goddammit!” Things
would be different this time. He could feel it. He’d save them. He’d save
them all—

The Worm’s mass smashed into the ground, just missing
Karnage by inches. He was thrown across the arena and crashed
into the remains of a crumpled old jeep, his wind knocked out. The
last remnants of New Baghdad were swept away by the mammoth
flood of stars pouring across his vision. The crackling explosions
were replaced with the fevered chants of the Spragmites.

“Mama-oo-pow-pow! Mama-oo-pow-pow!”

Karnage hugged his knees to his chest, wheezing, trying to catch
his breath as the last few stars in his eyes turned to fading embers.
Keep it together, soldier! Keep it together!
His ribs burned. He hoped he
hadn’t broken any of them.

Karnage gripped the jeep’s rusted fender and pulled himself up.
The fender ripped off, leaving an edge of gleaming sharp metal.
Karnage hefted it like a machete, and turned to face The Worm.

The Worm was on the other side of the arena, just coming out of
a turn. It barrelled back towards him like an angry bullet train, its
teeth circling its open mouth like a carnivorous black hole.

Karnage vaulted out of the way just as The Worm bore down on
him. He reached out and grabbed a handful of tentacles as it blurred
past. Pain shot through his arm as he was wrenched off his feet. The
tentacle-like hairs whipped and lashed at his arm, wrapping around
his limbs. Their grip was weak enough that Karnage could break it.
In fact, rather than impeding him, they gave him better purchase on
The Worm’s flank, allowing him to stick to its side like velcro.

The Worm twitched and writhed, trying to throw Karnage off.
Karnage felt like a mouse riding an epileptic elephant. He’d had
to free solo climb before, but never on an angry rock face that was
hellbent on bucking him off.

The world suddenly spun and Karnage saw the ground hurtling
towards him. Karnage dove off The Worm, just clearing its massive
girth as it slammed its side into the ground. Karnage tumbled away
as The Worm rolled and writhed on the ground like a dog trying
to scratch its flea-ridden back. It flopped back onto its belly with
frightening speed, and shot clear across the arena.

Karnage struggled to his feet. He watched as The Worm banked
and turned; the hard-packed earth bucked and roiled in its wake.
Wrecked military gear flew in all directions as The Worm ploughed
through it, barrelling towards Karnage.
It’s too fast,
Karnage
thought.
It’s too damn fast!

Karnage hefted the torn fender in his fist. His ankle throbbed.
Probably twisted. He couldn’t run anymore. He stood his ground,
rusted fender at the ready. The Spragmites screamed and hollered.
Karnage stared deep into The Worm’s serrated maw. The whorl of
teeth grew larger and larger, taking up all of Karnage’s vision.

A high-pitched whine—like the cry of an angry bumblebee—
pierced through the cacophony. Karnage looked up. There was an
explosion of concrete and sparks as a battered Dabney cruiser burst
over the edge of the wall. It spiralled through the air, and slammed
into The Worm’s head.

The Worm let out a horrid screech and recoiled, tumbling over
itself. The cruiser bounced across the arena and rolled to a stop. The
Worm’s body crashed atop the cruiser just as a tiny figure leaped
clear of the wreckage. Karnage smiled.

It was Sydney.

She ran up to Karnage. “You all right?”

“I’ll live.” Karnage tried to walk towards The Worm, but the pain in his ankle was too much and he crashed to the ground.
Sydney helped him up.

“Where are you going?”

Karnage shook his head. “I have to do this. Now. Help me. Please.”
Sydney propped Karnage up as he half-limped, half-hopped towards the massive beast. The Worm rocked itself, moaning
horribly. Karnage grabbed its side, and started climbing. The
tentacles made a half-hearted attempt to stop him, but they barely
had any strength left. Karnage quickly scaled The Worm’s bulk and
emerged onto its head.

The horn was the size of a small tree. The cruiser had mostly
torn it from its base. It lolled from side to side as if in a drunken
stupor. Yellow smoke spewed from the wound. It smelled like a
cross between nicotine and car exhaust. Karnage wrapped his arms
around the horn and pulled.

The Worm screeched. It suddenly found new energy as it bucked
and writhed, trying to throw Karnage off. Karnage wrapped his
arms and legs around the horn. His weight tore it further and
further as The Worm writhed more and more frantically. Karnage’s
sweaty hands started to slip. His strength was leaving him. He dug
his nails into the horn’s scaly surface. He had to outlast The Worm.
Stay the course, soldier! Stay the course!

There was a wrenching snap, and Karnage and the horn toppled
down The Worm and slammed into the ground. The Worm convulsed,
contorted, then went limp. Smoke spewed from its mouth.

Karnage felt an arm on his shoulder. It was Sydney. She twirled a
set of handcuffs on her finger.

“What are those for?”

“You’re under arrest.”

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Karnage said.

“Nope,” Sydney said. “Not kidding. Not kidding at all.”

Spragmites poured into the arena. They were fast approaching
Karnage and Sydney. “Captain,” Karnage said, “may I respectfully
suggest that this ain’t the best time for you to be slappin’ a pair of
cuffs on me.”

Sydney eyed the approaching horde, and tucked away her
handcuffs. “You mind telling me what’s going on here?”

“It’s kinda complicated,” Karnage said.

“Try me.”

“Me killin’ the worm was supposed to get me outta here.”

“Why don’t you sound like it worked?”

“Somethin’ tells me you might have screwed things up.”

“What? That thing where I saved your life?” Sydney said. “Sorry
about that. Won’t happen again. Promise.”

The Spragmites surrounded them. Some stared at The Worm
in awe. Others stared at Karnage and Sydney. Some in reverence.
Others in fury. Among them was the High Prophet. He pushed
through the crowd. A phalanx of D-pads followed him. He pointed
an accusing finger at Sydney. “Interloper! You dare interfere in the
affairs of Spragmos?! You will pay for this outrage!”

“What is this outrage you speak of, High Prophet?” All eyes
turned to see Tristan standing amongst the crowd. Those near her
backed away in surprise and fear.

The High Prophet’s eyes narrowed. “I should have known. They
are in league with the Blasphemer!”

“I am in league with no one, High Prophet.” Tristan turned to
the crowd. “You all saw, as I. Just when it seemed certain The Worm
would not find this man worthy, this woman burst through the
heavens like a saviour, as if sent by Spragmos himself—”

“Lies!” shouted the High Prophet.

Tristan turned her wondering gaze to the High Prophet. Her
tone remained even. “Why such hostility, High Prophet? Are you
filled with uncertainty for the future now that the Prophecy has
been fulfilled? Do you fear the change the Lightbringer signifies? Do you fear the True Path?”

“I fear nothing. And he is not the Lightbringer!”

“No,” Tristan said. “He is not. They both are.”

The crowd gasped. The High Prophet sneered. “More lies! The
Scripture only speaks of one Lightbringer, not two!”

“Your interpretation of the Scripture is meaningless, High
Prophet.” She turned to the crowd. “Spragmos has spoken. The
Worm is The Word, and The Worm has chosen.”

A few voices in the crowd called out “Mama-oo-pow-pow!”

The High Prophet waved frantically for silence. “No! My people,
do not be fooled!” He pointed an accusing finger at Karnage and
Sydney. “These two are blasphemers! Heretics come to destroy The
Word and The Worm! Come to destroy Spragmos himself! Awaken
The Worm within you, and you will see the truth as it has been
revealed to me!”

“But The Worm is The Word,” Tristan said. “There is no other
truth to be revealed. There is no need to try to read further into what
has occurred. The Worm has spoken. They are the Lightbringer.”

“No!” The High Prophet shouted. “They cheated!”

“You can’t cheat The Worm. And The Worm is The Word.”

A larger chorus of voices picked up the chant: “Mama-oo-powpow!”

“Don’t lecture me about The Word! I know more about the
Scriptures than you could ever—”

An ear-splitting alarm cut through the air.

“What the hell is that?” Sydney shouted.

“Proximity alarm,” Karnage said. “Somethin’s invadin’ our
airspace.”

Winds whipped up in the arena, throwing dust and debris
everywhere. The Spragmites scattered in all directions. Karnage,
Sydney, and the High Prophet stood in the midst of it all. Tristan
had long disappeared.

“The coward!” the High Prophet cried. “She knew she lost, so
she fled! Run, Tristan! Run! For when I find you, I won’t make the
mistake of sparing you again! Oh no!”

The sky suddenly went pitch black. Karnage looked up, squinting
through the sand and wind. Flashing lights littered the sky,
illuminating mammoth panels running the length of the horizon.
Something had blocked out the sun. Something that looked like . . .

Unidentified Flying Objects of Death!

Karnage grinned.

“You see?!” The High Prophet pointed at the darkened sky,
shrieking to be heard above the wind. “Spragmos has come! He will
not stand for this outrage! He will smite you! He will smite you all!”

A panel on the ship slid open. Something large and phallic
descended towards them. Spragmites ran in all directions as green
energy crackled along the shaft, collecting on its bulbous end.
Sydney grabbed Karnage’s arm and screamed in his ear. “We have
to get out of here!”

Karnage shook her off. He raised his arms towards the ship, and
closed his eyes. “Come get me, you bastards.”

Karnage’s world filled with an intense painful green.

Karnage woke lying face up on a hospital gurney. Soft white light
enveloped him. He sat up. Medals jangled against his chest. He
looked down. He was wearing a full-dress uniform. Karnage looked
around. The world was empty: nothing but soft white light gently
warming his skin. He lay back on the gurney, and closed his eyes.

So,
Karnage thought,
this is death.

“Major?”

Karnage opened his eyes. Cookie stood before him. He was wearing a hospital gown. His bald head was smooth and free of
scars. Glowing green squiggles danced up and down his forearms.
“Major? Are you awake?” Cookie said.

“I dunno,” Karnage said. “Am I dead?”

Cookie shook his head. “No, sir.”

“You sure about that?”

Cookie smiled. “I’m sure.”

“Well that’s a relief.” Karnage sat up. “What with all this white
shit everywhere and me bein’ decked out in full military dress and
all, you could see why I might jump to that conclusion.”

“Nobody’s dead yet, Major.”

“Nobody? You mean Velasquez? Heckler? Koch?”

Cookie nodded. “All still alive, sir.”

“I knew it. I just knew they weren’t . . .” Karnage dropped his
shoulders and let out a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s good.” He looked
up at Cookie. “I found ’em, Cookie. I found ’em! It was just like you
said. Comin’ in all squiggly and on an angle and shit. I don’t know
what they done to me. Last thing I remember they opened up some
monkeyfucker of a death ray on my ass. Next thing I know I’m here,
talkin’ to you! And look at you.” Karnage grabbed Cookie by his
arms. The squiggles squirmed hotly under Karnage’s grip. “You got
no bandages on your head or nothin’. You’ve never looked better.
Except those squiggles. Shit, they’re writhin’ and spreadin’ and
dancin’ like . . . like some kinda . . . hell, I don’t even know! What’s it
all mean, Cookie?”

“It means you still got a lot of work to do, Major. You found the
aliens. Now you gotta find a way to stop ’em.”

“But how, Cookie? How?”

Cookie tapped his temple. “You just gotta use your head.”

“My head is fucked up,” Karnage said. “I still see things, Cookie.
Things from—” Karnage cut himself short before he could finish
the thought.

“It’s okay,” Cookie said. “You can say it here. The War.”

Karnage cringed, ready for the visions to explode in his head.
But nothing happened. No fire. No chaos. No pain. Just peace. He
nearly wept.

“You’re not crazy, Major,” Cookie said. “You got a good handle on
things. Better than any of ’em would have thought. But you’re not
done yet. You still got a ways to go.” The squiggles on Cookie’s arms
grew brighter and hotter. They twined around Karnage’s fists, now
so hot they burned his skin. He tried to pull away, but they wouldn’t
let go. They twined up his arms.

“What’s happenin’, Cookie?”

“It’s time for you to go, Major.”

“Go where?”

“You’ll see.” The squiggles grew brighter. They washed everything
out into a fierce, pulsing green. The squiggles pulled Karnage’s
hands from Cookie’s arms, and Karnage tumbled backwards, falling
through the ever thickening tangle of squiggles. As he fell, Cookie’s
voice floated down to him through the distance:

“We’re with you, Major. Every one of us. We’re with you. . . .”