"The Mummies of Tara al Bey”

“The Mummies of Tara al Bey”

By Neal Privett

Lieutenant Robert Shayne watched a dust devil whirl about his yard.

The wind appeared out of nowhere and vanished into the great nowhere again with little fanfare. The winds on the moon were soft and pleasant, sometimes barely noticeable, except for the fact that they reminded him of just how lonesome and remote the little town really was.

The winds blew from way out there…rolling across untold miles of lunar frontier. Blowing from the far reaches of a star-shadowed desert and the sharp mountain crags that lay like slumbering giants on the horizon. All that territory…most of it unexplored. Beautiful, but ominous, too. Living on the moon was like a waking dream. Things did not seem quite real.

The sand was so silver here. The terrain almost glowed when the distant sun’s rays bathed it with light. What a beautiful, but alien, landscape. Shayne’s mind was filled with memories of watching the moon from his backyard, a dreamy child in love with space. He had grown up, attended space academy and became an interstellar soldier, reaching the rank of Lieutenant. Then came the news from Washington that there would be a series of moon colonies.

Americans were going to live on the moon. It sounded unbelievable then…as now.

The States in 3001 A.D. had reached an all-time high in population problem, so the only logical solution was to look to the stars. Three years later Shayne was part of the military presence in the first moon town: Tara al Bey, an ancient name found etched into stone in the far mountains. Though scientists had yet to fully decipher the language of the first moon civilizations, the name had a nice ring to it.

Scientists had invented a machine that altered the moon’s gravitational pull, or lack thereof. It sent an invisible field out that mixed with the moon’s energies and produced a gravitational field not unlike Earth’s. Now colonists could walk on the surface with ease. They could sit on their couches without floating away. They could work outside beneath the stars in their gardens without their tools rising into the air. They could live normal lives.

Scientists had also developed a pill that allowed earthmen to breathe. Somehow science had figured out a way to take the thin atmosphere: it’s argon-40, helium-4, oxygen, methane, nitrogen, carbon monoxide carbon dioxide, sodium and potassium, and convert it all into some sort of oxygen based gas for human consumption. At first Shayne was suspicious of this new innovation. It seemed like so much mad science. But soon he came around to it and had been popping a pill every morning like every other inhabitant of the moon.

Science had also created alternate species of plant life that could be grown and harvested in the thin atmosphere and sandy soil, too. Resilient species of potatoes, carrots, beans, wheat and other crops had been successfully grown. They were sprayed twice a day with carbon dioxide based chemicals that allowed them to breathe and grow to mutated sizes. It was amazing. Enough to feed everyone and even ship some of the abundance back home to help feed the hungry of Earth.

The residue of ancient wine had been discovered in urns at the foot of the mountains and recreated by scientists in the lab. Now the moon colonists drank ancient moon wine with supper and on weekends. There were even a few burgeoning alcoholics. Shayne laughed. Earth had successfully recreated life in its own image.

Tara al Bey sat like a silent stone on the desert of the moon. A moon town with an Earth feel. A couple of hundred miles away, across the mountains was another earth town, New York. Shayne laughed. Stupid name. A lunar New York city. He had only been there once. They actually had a Times Square. Basically a few blocks lined with some shops and a café. Pretty pathetic if you asked Shayne. A feeble attempt to hold onto earth culture…earth ways. When the colonists needed to adjust, to evolve to fit the rugged lifestyle of their new home.

Unlike New York, Tara al Bey was a modern town that looked towards the future…not the past. Its buildings were made of the smooth, soft stone that was being mined from the local mountains. The citizens wore flowing robes, as the moon people once did. Their space suits hung idly in their closets. The townsfolk went about each day with a relaxed attitude. Each day was as fresh as dew and as slow and easy as any desert town on earth, or off it. The local cuisine was food grown in moon gardens, or fish caught in moon streams. Not the cheap freeze dried stuff brought along in case of emergency.

“The New Yorkers” still lived on freeze dried sirloin. Freeze dried pudding. Freeze dried beans. Shayne and his people ate fresh greens and drank homemade moon wine at night on their porches, as the lush breezes blew into town off the desert.

The colonists of Tara al Bey were more open minded. They had adjusted to moon life. The New Yorkers were still living in the past, still sweltering in the hot exhausts of their rockets. They had not given up their earth ghosts.

Maybe in time they would learn to.

Lt. Shayne took another sip of his morning coffee. The day was falling gently on the moon. The colonists lived each day beneath a myriad of stars. But somehow, they could tell when morning came, as well as the night’s soft arrival.

This was a morning no different from any other. Shayne started his day early, eager to return to his job as second in command of the moon’s military unit. So far there had been nothing out there to protect the colonies from. The only signs of life were those from ancient times, long dead. A whisper in the wind. A half remembered vision in the distant caves…that could only been seen if you turned your head just right. The ghosts of a people that lived and vanished eons ago…so long ago, in fact, that the very memory of them had almost been lost in the sands of time.

The troops under Shayne’s command were basically there to help build and expand the colonies. There was no outward threat to speak of. But humans could not be stranded so far from home, vulnerable and unprotected. So there Shayne remained with his blaster on ready and his men on alert.

The telephone buzzed across the room. Shayne placed his coffee cup on the counter and moved through the living room to the den. The trans-galaxy communication device glowed in the darkness of the early morning room. Shayne snatched it from the receiver just as the ring was fading away. “Yes?”

It was Colonel Jameson. His raspy unwavering military voice boomed from the other end of the phone. “Lt. Shayne? Get down to headquarters immediately. Something has come up. Pronto. Understand?”

Shayne sighed. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

Shayne hung up the receiver and headed out the door. His boots echoed through the house, the sound bouncing off the carpeted floors and the soft stone walls. The stars almost swirled in the morning breeze as he stepped outside onto the sandy street. His neighbors had not risen yet. The moon was a very agreeable place. None of the earth hustle and bustle that forced people into early graves. On the moon, people took their time and relaxed more. They worked hard, but everybody knew that there was no place to be fast. So what was the point of rushing?

Shayne made his way down the street, made a left turn on Bradbury Avenue and walked another block, stopping at the front of the office of the moon military unit. He walked up the soft stone steps and into the arched doorway. He moved slowly down the hallway and rapped on the wall outside Colonel Jameson’s office. “Come in,” a gravelly voice shouted.

Shayne stepped inside the office and saluted his superior.

“Lt. Shayne, an archaeological discovery has been made in the mountains outside of town. You will take three of your best men and act as escort to the expedition as it travels to the site and back.”

“A protection assignment?”

“Yes. I don’t expect any trouble, but just the same, any contingent traveling so far away from town needs some reassurance. So go home and get your gear together. Report back here at 1100 hours. You will escort a Dr. Carruthers and a Dr. Rodriguez as well as their crew from here to their reported destination in the Rast al Abb Mountains.”

“How long will we be gone, sir?”

“At least a week. Maybe longer, according to Dr. Carruthers. If any significant discoveries are made, you could be up there a good solid month.”

Shayne sighed. This wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear. But he saluted and walked back home with a few hours to get ready for a possible month away. Luckily he wasn’t married. That would be tough.

****

A caravan of jeeps crossed the desert at a swift pace, leaving Tara al Bey far behind. Lt. Shayne placed a man in each jeep with orders to keep watch on the surrounding terrain as they passed through. Shayne rode in the first jeep and leaned back in the seat with his rifle propped against his shoulder. He puffed on a ten dollar cigar; one of the few Earth pleasures he still allowed himself.

The desert was quiet…almost too quiet. Thousands of miles of silver sand rolled in huge bulges all the way to the horizon. Beyond the dark wall was the side of the moon unseen by Earth. They were not going that far, and the knowledge of that fact was a relief to Shayne. He had been to the dark side of the moon, beyond the mountains, back when the first rockets landed. It was too dark there…and too eerie. Shadows became more than shadows and the old memories of the first denizens still haunted that dark region. More so than on this side of the moon. Shayne wanted nothing to do with it. Luckily, the expedition was stopping in the mountains and staying on this side of the range.

They rode for several hours and then the landscape began to rise steadily. The jeeps carried the men and their equipment higher and higher into the craggy mountains. Somewhere up there was a tomb, Carruthers had told Shayne. A long lost, but recently discovered crypt. The final burial place for ancient kings. Somewhere in the dark corners of the tomb was the key to possibly unlocking the mysteries of the original moon people. Archaeologists had been digging here for a long time and from what they had learned, the moon had once been home to a very intelligent and mystical people. They had invented a form of writing, formed governments, and from what science had discovered, there was plenty of evidence for organized religious practices.

It was all in their written records. Scientists had logged in thousands of hours to crack the strange hieroglyphics on the walls of the ruins and caves that dotted the landscape out here. Ancient lunar races had flourished back when the moon could have possibly been a totally different place. There was plenty of evidence of extinct vegetation and animal life. Some of the fossilized vertebrae, tiny fish-like creatures had been discovered in the rock of what had once been a sprawling sea. Shayne himself had seen the fossilized feathers from bird creatures that were found by ancient river beds.

The caves and mountains were full of evidence for past civilizations that had had their heyday then vanished into the sands of time. But the answers were still here. Out here in the wastelands of the moon.

And all the expedition had to do was excavate. Long hours of digging and sifting and recording discoveries. The scientists and their crew were doing that, actually. Shayne’s only job was to keep watch over them as they worked.

The line of jeeps left the makeshift road and rolled across endless acres of stones and rubble that burst into powder under the weight of the thick tires. The caravan rounded a bend and kept going, straight on beyond sentinel-like boulders that squatted in the sand in groups of three or four.

Below them was the valley. Its immensity was not comprehensible until one reached the top of the mountain and looked down. Shayne smiled to himself. It was incredible up there. He had a view he didn’t often get in town. They were almost up there with the stars. He felt as if he could reach out and touch them. The light of the firmament from that vantage point almost seemed warm. The stars swirled and a comet blazed across the sky. And Lt. Shayne knew why he had come to the moon.

The expedition came to a stop a few miles later. The mountain had leveled out. The scientists began to unload their equipment and set up the tents. Shayne and his men helped them, then stepped back and surveyed the area as Carruthers, Rodriguez and the others began the laborious process of unpacking.

The soldiers spread out and covered all the points adjacent to the camp. There was probably nothing to worry about, but then again…

Shayne explored the area, peering behind every boulder…peeking into every nearby crevice. Carruthers stopped what he was doing and called out, “What are you looking for? Little green men?” The other scientists broke out into laughter.

Shayne smiled. “You never can tell, Doc.”

Dr. Carruthers gestured at one of the workers and waved another by as they set up the hanging screens to be used for ciphering the veritable tons of sand that would be excavated beginning the next morning. The scientist wiped his hands on his khaki pants and walked over to Shayne. “Would you like to see the tomb?”

Shayne nodded.

“Right this way.” Carruthers led him over a rise. Below was a cave. Shane and Carruthers moved downhill towards the entrance. They stepped out of the weird night and into a lost world.

It was a simple tomb, hewn into the wall of a mountain by ancient hands. The scientist lit a lantern. He gestured for Shayne to wait until the blue flame sprang to life and grew. Then he plunged first into the darkness.

The tomb had been hidden from the eyes of sentient beings for at least three millennia. Maybe more. Shayne’s mind pulsated anxiously inside his skull. It was unbelievable, this place. He walked in Dr. Caruthers footsteps. They were the first expedition of human beings to ever set foot in there. They moved slowly, spellbound…caught up in the silent awe of the ancient tomb.

“We opened the tomb up a scant 24-hours ago. This is the largest tomb ever discovered. The other tombs were very simple…the resting place of commoners. Nothing to them really. But we feel that this is the burial chamber of a king. We also refer to their kings as pharaohs sometimes…has a nice Egyptian ring to it. Actually, there are many similarities between ancient Egypt and this lost race, from what we’ve learned thus far. No pyramids as of yet, but the moon kings wielded enormous power, as the kings of ancient Egypt once did back on our planet. They drove chariots, made war, owned slaves that built great structures. Quite an interesting dichotomy.”

The scientist talked on. Shayne grinned. He was receiving his own private lecture. “There is much to be gained from this excavation. We notified your superiors immediately and requested your assistance,” Carruthers whispered. The solemnity of the crypt caused them to speak softly…possibly out of a sense of deference. Or maybe it was just a wavering uneasiness that seemed to envelop them. The two men moved slowly, walking behind the lantern, which cast a blue glow over all. The light cut a trail for them to follow through the aged darkness.

Carruthers continued to speak softly, almost as if he were afraid of waking the dead. “Of course it will be some time before we can actually decipher the long dead secrets of this holy place. Who knows what we will learn here?”

“It’s amazing,” Shayne said.

“Isn’t it?”

Shayne glanced around the chamber nervously. His eyes scanned the corners for shadows that moved. His ears strained to hear phantoms that walked or whispered. This was way beyond his realm of experience. “It’s just between you and me, sir…but I think this place is beginning to get to me,” he laughed. “What do you think became of this civilization, though?”

The scientist smiled. “That, Lieutenant, is the million dollar question. We will hopefully have the answer one day soon.”

Shayne could feel the sacredness of the pharonic moon-king’s final resting place …the undeniable might of the leader who lay interred there. It was in the stale air that hung there in the chamber like a memory. It was in the echoes of silence that almost seemed deafening.

Painted on the walls in simple pictographs were images of the king’s former life. Visions of victorious wars, of fishing expeditions in the great moon seas that had dried up eons ago, hunting excursions into the mountains to snag beasts that no longer existed, of birth and death and rebirth. The wall paintings illustrated the king’s life: cradle to grave, and then beyond. The last image etched into the stone showed the king’s spirit or soul rising from the tomb and into the sky. Above were the sky gods, waiting among the stars to welcome the king’s worthy soul into their midst.

“Look at this,” Dr. Carruthers said. He gestured at a section of hieroglyphs. There were rows of what appeared to be lizard-like men. Their fanged lips were parted in permanent howls of rage and their clawed hands were raised in defiance and savagery.

“What in the name of…”

Carruthers chuckled. “I couldn’t tell you just yet. We’ve never seen anything like it. Whatever those beasts are…or were…they seem to be attacking some invisible enemy. Perhaps these creatures were servants of the king.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because look at the king sitting in his chariot over there. He’s ordering those beasts into battle. They are the king’s front line of attack. No doubt about it.” Carruthers said as he pointed to a figure carved into the stone that was obviously the king. The regal figure sat in some sort of chariot with a spear raised high as the lizard creatures charged ahead into the fray. The human-like image of the king contrasted greatly with that of his reptilian warriors. Shayne wondered if possibly there had once been a race of reptilian creatures that were eventually enslaved by the anthropomorphic moon people. Or maybe the things fought and served willingly. There was no way to tell yet.

“Horrible looking things,” Shayne sneered. “I hope there’s not any more of those running around the desert.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, Lieutenant,” Carruthers said. “These hieroglyphs were made over three thousand years ago. Nothing lives that long. Not even on the moon.”

Shayne ran his fingers along some deeply etched letters, carved into the stone wall. “What is this?”

“It’s some sort of inscription. We haven’t cracked it yet. Rodriguez will take a look at it tomorrow. He’s an ace with ancient languages.”

Shayne held the lantern closer and tried to read the inscription. “Vraah le Ubtarr va al Bree…Ak al vree al Seek….It’s Greek to me, Doc.”

“Not for long,” Carruthers smiled.

****

Shayne followed the doctor through the front chamber, past an arched doorway to a back room where the most valuable grave goods were stored, the objects and necessities used by the king in life and likely what the long dead priests believed their honored leader required for the afterlife and beyond. There was enough dried food for an army. Clothes folded and stored in crates, statuettes, weapons such as spears and arrows and swords, dice and board games for the king’s entertainment, and there in the corner, propped against the wall were the desiccated mummies of his slaves. They were much taller than an average human. Their dried out corpses were propped against one another, holding each other in place firmly against the walls. Shayne grimaced in disgust. The bodies were likely women, whose sole purpose for existence was for the care and pleasure of their king. The story of their demise was written in their frozen skeletal faces and hollowed stomachs.

Shayne stopped and stared in horror.

“Yes,” Dr. Carruthers said solemnly. “They were buried alive.”

Slaves who had paid the ultimate price for their loyalty. Next to them were many dozens of mummified soldiers, clad in a strange armor; their spears and shields clutched between shriveled fingers. Helmets that appeared to be constructed of some sort of leather fastened onto a gold-tinged metal donned their skulls. There might have been a hundred of them, lined against the cold wall as if awaiting orders to march. The unusually tall mummies looked down on Shayne through empty eye sockets. It was chilling.

“Come on.” Carruthers led the lieutenant farther across the floor of the crypt. He held his lantern high and cast a strange glow on the far side of the tomb where light had not intruded for eons. The lantern gave life to a myriad of shadows that writhed and danced as the two men moved. And there, in the center of the room was the pharaoh’s sarcophagus. The sepulcher was honed from the local soft stone, carved by ancient priestly hands into the shape of the king’s body. The lantern shining on the king’s likeness on the coffin lid made for a weird silhouette against the wall of the cave.

Something about the sight made the blood freeze inside Lt. Shayne’s veins.

“Here the old boy is,” Carruthers said, his voice shaking. “We plan to open the coffin tomorrow morning, first thing. I doubt that any of us will get any sleep tonight. We are all so excited.”

Shayne’s insides were quivering. His spine was in deep freeze. His mind was squirming. He spoke before he even thought…and he wondered immediately where the words came from. “Don’t open it.”

Carruthers wheeled around. “What?”

“Don’t…open…the coffin. Leave…now.”

“Lieutenant…I don’t understand…”

Shayne shook his head and tried to clear his vision. “I…something came over me. I don’t know what it was. I apologize, Carruthers…”

The scientist was puzzled. “But why don’t you want us to open the coffin?”

“Please do…I apologize. I guess it’s the musty air in here,” Shayne said. He tried to laugh, but he knew that it was a manufactured gesture, easily observable to Carruthers. Looking around, he saw no immediate threat, so he moved towards the entrance of the cave. “I’m going back. See you outside.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Carruthers said as he adjusted his glasses and watched curiously as Shayne left the tomb.

Shayne walked out of the cave and back to camp with his head spinning and his senses reeling. He shook his head and muttered to himself. “What just happened back there?”

Before he realized, it was late and time for the wee small hours, bleary-eyed deep space star gazing, two hour naps, and rotating guard duty.

There would be no dawn, for dawn was just an idea lost somewhere in the land of eternal night. Lt. Shayne wouldn’t sleep a wink at all anyway. Visions of the tomb haunted him through his watch duty, through his nap breaks, and into the following morning when the others awoke and emerged from their tents, stretching and yawning and fumbling to get their fires going and the coffee started.

****

The other scientist in charge, Rodriguez, gathered some excavating tools, a lamp, some charcoal, and some thick drawing paper in his leather bag and headed for the tomb. “I am going to get some initial charcoal rubbings of the coffin hieroglyphics before we get started, Dr. Carruthers.”

Carruthers nodded and continued with his coffee. Lt. Shayne sat across from Carruthers and watched Rodriguez move towards the cave. He started to rise, but Carruthers stopped him. “Finish your coffee, Lieutenant. Rodriguez will be alright for a few minutes.”

Shayne nodded. The strange feeling still resonated in his gut and he found himself debating the opening of the tomb once again. But he remained silent. Perhaps it was some of that old Earth superstition that hung on and clung to his psyche like wet laundry. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something…unholy…about the tomb.

Dr. Rodriguez was a professional archaeologist, a former professor at USC before signing on to be a part of the moon colonization. When he learned that there was ample evidence of ancient cultures that had once thrived on the moon and that archaeologists were needed to study these long dead peoples, he jumped at the chance.

Now he had more work than he could handle. A veritable career that began this very day. One day soon he hoped to help found the first lunar college, where he could continue his teaching, as well as his field studies.

Rodriguez placed his lantern on top of the sepulcher lid and turned the lantern’s volume higher until the entire general area was flooded with the soft blue light, which was easy on the eyes, but also very effective. Strange sounds echoed throughout the chamber. Soft fingers of air from outside curled around the sarcophagus and made his hair dance. He glanced back at the opening behind him. This tomb was the eeriest he had ever seen. He had worked in Mayan temples and crypts before. But this place had them beat in the downright scary department. There was something not quite right here. He found it unnerving, but terribly exciting at the same time. Knowing that the military was just outside was a comfort. They could be there in an instant if he called for them. He reached into his pouch and removed a stick of charcoal and unfolded a large piece of paper.

He could not help but brush his hand across the images, carved into the stone so very long ago. The stone was soft and cold and the images spoke to him. Images of the Pharaoh in warfare and posing with his family…his queen and his sons…communing with strange unknown gods. His hand stopped on a word…Vaal al Vreen. Rodriguez contemplated the word…no, not a word…a name…the Pharaoh’s name…

Vaal al Vreen.

Rodriguez saw the name repeated several times on the coffin lid. The name swelled inside his brain and made him dizzy. The words resonated. Echoed. Almost as if something sentient was repeating them over and over in his mind. He glanced around him. The blue light of the lantern was beginning to shimmer. All of a sudden there was a buzzing sound in his ears and he felt faint. The scientist collapsed backwards onto the cold stone floor. Something drew his attention to the pharaoh’s sepulcher. He could not tear his eyes away.

His heart began to beat wildly. The sound resonated painfully like a drum in his ears. What happened next was like a dream…a weird, horrible inescapable dream.

The coffin lid began to vibrate. Dust fell from the edges, as it moved. Rodriguez lay there, frozen to the spot, trying to decide if this was an illusion or if it was really happening. It was happening. The coffin lid was moving.

A grey, skeletal hand emerged from within and pushed the lid away. Rodriguez winced as the heavy piece of stone fell to the floor and a deafening crash filled the tomb.

He wanted to scream…to run…but he could not move. Standing erect before him was the pharaoh’s living corpse. The thing was at least seven feet tall and it towered over Rodriguez, staring down at him with burning eyes of moon-fire. Its jaws began to creak and move for the first time in ages. Dust fell from its mouth as it tried to speak, but there were no vocal chords to carry its angered voice.

The pharaoh was dressed regally, in flowing robes of faded gold. On its head was a bejeweled and feathered headdress. It reached into its coffin and produced a long sword that still retained a savage gleam after three thousand years. The weapon glowed in the blue light of the lantern as the creature raised it high. It stepped over the side of its coffin and down onto the cold floor, pausing unsteadily for a moment as if to regain some life back into the muscles that had shriveled and dried out over the many lifetimes spent languishing in the tomb.

Then the thing took three silent steps towards the cowering Rodriguez. It loomed over the interloper and raised its sword defiantly. The Pharaoh would not suffer these defilers of the holy, these fools. Rodriguez could not pull his eyes away from that burning stare. Those horrible eyes. Pits of hate that studied him intently, as if he were an enemy…just before the kill.

The Pharaoh brought the sword down. Rodriguez heard the wind from the sharp blade as it cascaded downwards, towards his waiting throat. For a brief millisecond, he also heard stirrings in the darkness behind the Pharaoh’s mummy…the stirrings of a hundred slaves awakening.

Then the darkness came reeling and Rodriguez heard nothing more.

****

Lt. Shayne was standing on a high boulder, looking out across the desert when the feeling hit him in the gut like a well placed punch. Something was wrong. He felt it somehow. Something in the tomb was connecting to him. He wheeled around towards the cave and waited anxiously for any sign of trouble. Professor Carruthers looked up from his coffee and rose slowly. He studied Shayne for a moment, then he picked up a lantern and moved towards the cave. Shayne followed. Both men met in the middle of camp and jogged swiftly to the tomb entrance.

They disappeared inside the darkness.

Carruthers led the way. The men rushed down the first corridor and into the main burial chamber and there they came to an abrupt halt. They hovered there, frozen firmly in their tracks. The gory vision in the blue light of Carruther’s lantern was too much to take. The scientist fell to his knees and vomited violently. Shayne stood there with his hand covering his mouth, moaning and shaking. The sweat appeared from out of nowhere and ran profusely down his face, saturating his uniform. The lieutenant had seen much death, but nothing like this. The scene in the tomb was savage…twisted.

Lying there on the stone lid of the king’s coffin was the bloody decapitated head of Rodriguez. The eyes stared blankly at a horror they could no longer see and Shayne wondered what terrible thing the dead man had witnessed just before the end. Rodriguez’s headless body lay on its back on the cold stone floor, with both arms outstretched. His tools and lantern lay scattered beside the body.

Lt. Shayne noticed something then. The coffin lid had been moved, and subsequently replaced. The dust had been disturbed all around the sepulcher. And there was something else.

Rodriguez had been killed…horribly slaughtered and decapitated by something. Yet there was not a single drop of blood anywhere…on the coffin…the floor…the body. Wild panic began to seize Shayne then and he lifted his rifle higher. He began to glance about with a hawk’s eye, surveying each dark corner for signs of movement. He reached over and pulled Carruthers close behind him and the two backed out of the tomb slowly and into the open. Shayne glanced up at the swirling stars above as they ran from the mouth of the cave. For the first time in his life, the stars were not diamond-eyed embers of beauty. The romance and awe he once held for the moon and its firmament was now replaced by a white hot current of fear.

The two men stumbled into camp and collapsed by the nearest campfire. One of the archaeologists helped the men up into sitting positions, then poured two cups of coffee and handed them to Carruthers and Shayne.

Carruthers tried to force a smile. He began to shake uncontrollably. “I…I think we may need something a little stronger than coffee, Ayers.”

Ayers sat down beside the older scientist. “What happened in there, Dr. Carruthers?”

Carruthers glanced painfully at Shayne, then back at the others, who had gathered around the fire to listen. “Rodriguez is dead,” he said. There was a collective gasp, then a stone silence and a discernible gloom that fell over the camp.

Shayne’s men had quietly approached the fire and stood over the archaeologists with their guns raised. The lieutenant took a half-hearted drink of the hot coffee and nodded to them. They moved back to their posts, as silently as they had come. An empty feeling ate away at him and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he should have been in the cave with Rodriguez. If only he had been there to protect him.

Shayne rubbed his eyes. His head throbbed with pain and his stomach burned with nausea. Damn it. Why hadn’t he gone with Rodriguez? Why did he let him go into the tomb alone? He had failed in his duties. And now a man was dead. There was something pushing him away, some force…something unnatural. The thought of venturing back into the tomb sickened him further. He no longer felt like a soldier. He felt like a superstitious fool.

Ayers studied Carruthers for a long moment and finally found some words lost deep in his fear-dry throat. “What happened?”

Carruthers stared away, deep into the lunar distance, where night never ended. His thoughts were muddled ghosts and every time he believed that he had the anxious nausea quieted deep down in his stomach, it rose once again to strangle him. “Don’t ask me yet.”

Shayne collected himself and placed his cup on the log beside the fire. Never again. No more lost lives. He had to conquer this strange fear that had overtaken him and keep these men safe, at any cost. “Your colleague was killed by an unknown entity. That’s all we can say at the moment. And until we know more…that cave is off limits.”

Carruthers continued to stare blindly at the stars. But Ayers hopped up in shock and anger. “You can’t be serious,” he shouted. “What about the tomb?”

“The tomb is temporarily closed,” Shayne muttered.

Ayers grabbed Carruthers by the arm. “Doctor…please tell the lieutenant that we can’t lose even a single day more! This is the find that will literally write the book on lunar pre-history. We can’t quit now!”

“I didn’t say anything about quitting, “Shayne said. “I just said we were going to stay out of the cave until we find whatever killed Rodriguez.”

“Why can’t we work under guard?”

Shayne rose. “Not until we find out what’s in there.” Gore soaked visions of Rodriguez oozed across his mind and he clenched his teeth, holding on to his shame as if it might escape. “I should’ve posted a guard in there with Rodriguez. His death is on me. But we aren’t going to have anymore. One’s enough.”

Ayers started to speak, but Shayne raised his hand to silence him. The archaeologist shook his head in disgust and stormed away. The Lieutenant sat quietly beside Carruthers. A weird chill enveloped them as they sat together, two men side by side, contemplating the unknown. They watched the fire slowly fade and listened to the beatings of their own phantom hearts.

****

A few hours later, Shayne ordered his men to keep the first watch and collapsed into exhausted slumber for a few hours. He slept restlessly, tossing and turning in his tent as more bloody images of the scientist’s mangled corpse returned to haunt his dreams. Then something was in his head, something that caused him to wake violently and bolt upright. He stared blankly ahead into the darkness for a moment while the fog in his brain diminished, then he scrambled through the tent flap. He glanced around quizzically for a few seconds and noticed that his men were doing the same. Something was wrong.

All of a sudden, something moved to his left. Shayne wheeled around to see Carruthers emerge from his tent. The archaeologist’s face was mechanical and dream-ridden, as if something was controlling him. He stood in the night air, staring ahead in the direction of the tomb, as if waiting for a command, a beckoning call, from some unknown source.

The lieutenant was about to enquire if everything was alright when Carruthers began moving towards the cave.

“Dr. Carruthers,” Shayne shouted. “Dr. Carruthers…wait!”

Carruthers did not hear. He did not stop. He continued on, drifting silently across the sand like a wayward specter intent on some invisible goal. He was blank and devoid of any cognizance or feeling. It was as if he was walking in his sleep.

Lt. Shayne rushed after him. He motioned for the other soldiers to head the doctor off, but the scientist walked quickly past them and continued over the rise.

“Carruthers! Stop!”

Shayne came to a stop on top of the hill and stared in disbelief as Dr. Carruthers walked down the trail and disappeared into the inky darkness of the cave. Shayne’s men ran up beside him. “What now, sir?”

Shayne rubbed the disheveled hair on his head and cursed under his breath. “Simms…you and Douglass stay in camp. Carroll…you come with me.”

Shayne went back for his rifle and a lantern. Then he led the way into the cave.

The piercing blue glow of the lantern illuminated the first chamber as they rushed inside. Strangely enough, Carruthers had entered the blackness without a light. Shayne held the lantern before him, pushing back the darkness into the far corners. There was no trace of the archaeologist. Shayne’s blood temperature dropped several degrees when he considered the fact that Carruthers was somewhere deeper inside the cave…wandering around in the dark.

The soldiers raced into the king’s burial chamber. The air turned even colder suddenly and Shayne handed the lantern to Carroll. Shayne’s heartbeat pulsated deep inside his ears and it made him slightly dizzy. But he shook it off. What he couldn’t shake off, however, was the haze that came from the other side of the darkness. It made his eyes swim. It made the walls of the cave shimmer.

Carroll felt it, too. “Sir…what’s going on?”

Shayne was about to answer, but the words died in his icy throat when he heard the lacerating scrape of the pharaoh’s coffin lid as it moved. He jerked his head around so fast that it made his spine pop and creak. The two men stood there, spellbound, as the heavy stone lid fell from the coffin, as if pulled by supernaturally strong and invisible fingers.

There was a scratching sound within the sarcophagus, then something appeared out of the black…peering over the coffin’s edge, trying to force its way into a standing position. Shayne tried to move, tried to raise his rifle, but the muscles in his body were frozen like pipes in a Nebraska winter.

Carroll could not tear his eyes away. Something tall and thin rose from the shadows. It writhed and almost danced in the haunted blue light, reaching into the air in some grim display of rebirth and twisting as if it were a marionette with strings pulled by an unseen master.

The pharaoh, a majestic angel of death, towered before them. Skeletal fingers, longer than an average human’s, wrapped around a royal blade that had tasted more blood than Shayne or any of the other moon colonists could hold in their puny mortal bodies.

The great lunar conqueror. The god from distant stars that had died when the moon was but young and a fresh tear in the galaxy’s eye. An ancient king returned from the land of the dead, a realm forever unknown to earthlings.

“Lieutenant,” Carroll moaned. “Help me…”

Before Shayne could move, the pharaoh’s mummy vaulted from its stone sarcophagus. The echo of its sandaled feet on the smooth cave floor resonated across the tomb. The thing raised its sword high and the edge of the wicked blade glistened in the lantern glow. There was a lightning flash of movement and the blade sliced through Carroll’s throat like tissue paper. Gouts of deep red blood covered the soldier’s face and uniform and his lifeless shell collapsed to the floor.

A flash of adrenaline surged through Shayne’s mind as the shock wore off and he sprang back to life and action. He wheeled around and brought the rifle’s muzzle upwards into the face of the living mummy.

But the pharaoh known in life as Vaal al Vreen, was quicker. It caught the muzzle in its clawed hand and jerked the weapon from Shayne’s hands. The gun landed beyond the shadows and slid to a halt against the wall. The mummy grabbed Shayne by the throat and lifted him into the air. He was weightless, a mere nothing to this seven foot tall horror from the grave. Every bit of muscle and gristle in the lieutenant’s body turned to jelly. Shayne had never felt so helpless before. He was dealing with the supernatural…something beyond Earth understanding, and he was doomed.

The pharaoh brought the bloody end of the sword against Shayne’s throat. In another second, the thing would drive the blade home and Shayne would be no more. A thousand memories and images shot through his brain like an out of control celluloid explosion. It dawned on Shayne all of a sudden. It was a pointless death in a place man did not belong.

He gazed deep into the pharaoh’s brown, mummified face that leered at him from beneath the headdress. The nose was gone. The leathery skin was dried and pulled tight around the high cheekbones. The mouth was a twisted, maniacal smile carved into the skull by the ravages of time. The deserts were dry, and that had helped to preserve the beast for posterity. Its followers probably embalmed it with something, too.

The living dead ruler of an ancient lunar civilization was older than the oldest Egyptian pharaoh back on earth. It knew things that man could never know or even comprehend. It knew deep time and all the secrets and horrors contained therein. And now it was about to drink Shayne’s life essence. Just like it had with Rodriguez.

“Hope you choke on my blood, Your Majesty,” Shayne gurgled.

The lieutenant felt the cold edge of the pharaoh’s blade slice into him and he winced as the first soft bubbles of blood appeared on his skin. The red began to trickle down his throat. He groaned at the sharp sting.

He stared deep into black sockets where the king’s eyes were once. There was nothing in those empty sockets…just a single spider web. Nothing more. No retinas. No corneas. No pupils. Strangely enough, the creature could still see. The shriveled death’s head leaned close to Shayne. Their faces were almost touching. The pharaoh studied Shayne. It tilted its head back and forth, right and left, as if it was waiting to see what the helpless earthman would do or say before it plunged the sword deeper into his waiting throat and bathed in his blood.

Shayne did nothing. Maybe that simple fact prolonged his life a few more seconds. Maybe the pharaoh could sense he was a fighting man, too. And if that were the case…then maybe Shayne should go out doing what he did best. Maybe he should give the king what he expected. A fight.

The lieutenant brought his trembling fist up with all the strength and fury he could still muster. His knuckles smashed the dried flesh beneath the mummy’s jawbone and he heard it snap. The blow caught the mummy off guard. It dropped Shayne and fell back a couple of steps. It stood there, temporarily dazed, but it did not drop the sword.

Shayne saw the jawbone hanging limply off the side of the pharaoh’s face. The mummy was surprised and for a few seconds, it did not know how to react. Shayne doubted it felt any pain, but it damn sure felt shock and in the next instant fury. The creature lumbered forward, all seven feet of it. A weird howl exploded from its shriveled lips. It raised the mighty sword and took a giant swing at Shayne’s head. He ducked and rolled, scrambling after his rifle on the far side of the sepulcher.

Shayne reached the rifle and rolled over, quickly loading a shell into the chamber. He heard the pharaoh’s heavy footfalls around the side of the coffin. His fingers slipped once on the rifle, but he shoved another shell in just before the beast reached him. The thing let out another howl, even more hellish than the first.

The blue lamplight reflected once more off the sword blade as the mummy raised it high, over Shayne’s skull. It was just about to bring the sword careening down into his head when the lieutenant brought the rifle muzzle up and aimed it directly at the thing’s face. There was a loud report and the ancient moon king’s head separated into a thousand dried out flakes that erupted like a small volcano. Pieces flew off in all directions and the pharaoh fell back. But it didn’t go down. It swung blindly with the sword. Shayne crawled backwards in an attempt to escape the headless thing frantically slicing at the air around it.

Shayne rose and cocked the rifle. He aimed and fired again and again. The pharaoh exploded and after the smoke cleared there was little more than a pile of golden robes and an empty headdress beneath dust and brittle bones.

The lieutenant fell to his knees. His breaths came in short panicked gasps of gut wrenching pain. He sat there on the tomb floor for a moment and tried to cool the fevered flashes of his heart and lungs. “Sweet God Almighty,” he whispered. His eyes remained on the pile of bones, as if the pharaoh would resuscitate itself at any moment and close in for the kill when the lieutenant least expected it.

But the moon king remained dead this time. A cool velvet wind blew softly from outside and Shayne found himself desiring the peace of the stars and a nice cold drink from camp. He rose slowly and limped towards the doorway beyond the front chamber.

Shayne stopped to pick up the overturned lantern on the way out of the burial chamber. And that is when he heard it…the rustling coming from the shadows deeper inside the burial chamber. He turned slowly, his heart a limp, dead thing inside his dried throat. Shayne held the lantern high and peered through the dark, past the pharaoh’s bones. He stopped breathing.

In the blue light, shambling like a dozen choice nightmares from a damned soul’s psyche, was the pharaoh’s mummified servants, shambling forward slowly with their clawed bone tipped fingers outstretched, raking the air. Terrible moans, never heard by human ears, cut through the stillness of the tomb and white hot shock pilfered through the recesses of Lt. Shayne’s mind, followed by a cold wave of fear as it washed over his skin.

Shayne bolted from the cave as fast as his legs would carry him and headed for camp. He stumbled once before he reached the front opening and after that his memory failed him. The next couple of minutes were lost in a frenzy of animalistic panic until he reached camp and his mental faculties returned to him slowly.

Shayne called out, but no one answered.

The lieutenant moved closer, with his rifle raised and ready to fire. He moved over the rise and stopped just before the archaeologist’s tent. “Ayers…Ayers…are you there?”

No answer.

Shayne moved towards the center of camp and called out to his men. “Sims! Douglas! Respond on the double!”

There was only the sound of the wind brushing against rocks more ancient than time itself. Shayne started to feel the panic welling up from deep inside his gut again. Something was wrong. He called out again.

Nothing.

He moved cautiously through the camp and stopped when he saw the boot behind the soldiers’ tent. He rushed around behind and placed the lantern on a rock. It was Simms. He was white as moon sand and at first Shayne thought that he was grinning from ear to ear. The shadows were thick and he couldn’t tell for sure. But when he held the lantern closer he realized that there was a savage gash in his throat. Shayne stood over his fallen comrade, trying to make sense of things.

Then it hit him. There was no blood. No blood around the wound…on the body anywhere. None on the sand beneath Simms.

Shayne glanced behind him and saw the archaeologist, Ayers, lying on his stomach. He move closer and examined the corpse. Something had torn the eyes from Ayer’s head. Ripped his tongue from his mouth. Slashed his throat.

But there was no blood.

He glanced around frantically. There was no sign of Douglass or the other workers. He turned to look at Simms again. He studied the ground around his body. There had been no sign of a struggle. Something had appeared out of nowhere and killed Simms instantly. And sucked every drop of blood from his body.

Shayne shuddered when he saw the dead glare in Simms’ eyes. There was a tinge of faint surprise around the pupils. Maybe he had seen someone he recognized. He scratched his chin and wracked his thoughts. Then a possibility crossed his mind, and he didn’t like what he was thinking.

“Not a pretty sight is it, Lieutenant?”

The sudden sound of the voice from the darkness made Shayne jump. He wheeled around and aimed his rifle at the shadows. Then a face appeared in the blue light of the lantern. A face that was instantly familiar.

“Carruthers! Where have you been?”

Carruthers moved into the light. Shayne noticed the blood caked wound on his forehead right away. “Do not be afraid, Lieutenant,” the scientist said. His voice was slow and almost monotone. He walked as if there was no feeling in his legs. He stared straight ahead as he spoke, as if he could not see.

Shayne held his rifle close. “Carruthers…there is something evil in that tomb. Carroll is dead. It almost got me, too. We have to leave…”

“We should never have come here in the first place,” Carruthers said with a strange smile. “We are not wanted here.”

Shayne stared at the scientist in disbelief. “Carruthers…your eyes…”

Carruthers’ eyes were demonic. They were glazed over and milky. There were no pupils. It was as if he were blind. “I understand now, Shayne. I didn’t at first…but now I do.”

“Understand what?”

“The hieroglyphs we found that day…the ones that translated as, Beware interlopers…the king is as timeless as the desert and as formless as the heavens. He shall not stop in his vengeance. He shall escape the dust of his bones and find a willing host…then he shall drink of the blood of the living until the last trespasser is gone…”

“The Pharaoh’s mummy is dead…I killed it!”

“Vraal al Vreen cannot die,” Carruthers laughed. “You destroyed his body but not his spirit. The Pharaoh now resides in me…and I will do his bidding…”

“…until the last trespasser is gone. Eh, Carruthers?”

“Exactly,” the scientist said. “Now don’t fight it, Lieutenant…this won’t hurt…”

Shayne shoved the barrel of his rifle into Carruthers’ ribs and pulled the trigger. The archaeologist’s torso spread apart like a fevered dream in slow motion and when Shayne stepped back there was a gaping hole in the center of him. Carruthers lumbered toward Shayne with a single intestine dragging the ground. The scientist was possessed with the life essence, the soul, of the pharaoh and he began to speak in the old tongue as he lunged at the lieutenant. “Vraal al Vreen al shay. Vrook ja hem shay…”

The scientist grabbed at Shayne with both outstretched arms, but the lieutenant ducked and brought the butt of his rifle up against his skull, shattering the bone into splinters that rose beneath the skin. But Carruthers kept coming. His eyes had taken on an otherworldly glow and his voice had become a low scratchy dirge straight from the tombs.

Shayne hit Carruthers with the butt of his rifle again. He tried to move backwards but the scientist was stronger and faster with the blood of his comrades inside him…just as the hieroglyphs had promised. Before Shayne could react, the thing grappled him with both arms and lifted him up into the air. His grip was deadly. His arms were like two steel bands. There was nothing Shayne could do but try to keep the breath flowing in and out of his lungs.

The creature that had once been Dr.Carruthers, eminent archaeologist, was now a raving, undead beast with a sacred blood mission to quell the infidel flames that had been kindled the moment Vraal al Vreen’s tomb had been desecrated. Shayne gasped and struggled against the supernatural death machine to little avail as it tightened its grip on his torso and squeezed until Shayne could taste the blood rising into his mouth.

Shayne kicked back and threw forward his head with all the might he could muster and drove Carruther’s nose deep into his possessed brain. The pharaoh’s host took a few steps back. A long dark stream of blood ran from the collapsed nostrils, but Carruthers did not let Shayne free. However, the thing’s grip loosened just enough to allow Shayne another direct hit to its face, causing the thing to release him.

Lt. Shayne hit the ground, rolled over and quickly grabbed the rifle. He shoved another cartridge in and aimed for the beast’s eyes. The camp site was rocked by the deafening report and Carruther’s head disconnected from his shoulders. The thing took a few more steps forward, reaching for Shayne blindly, before collapsing to the ground in a bloody heap.

The moon returned to silence then, and Shayne fell to his knees. He sat there reveling in that silence for a long time. He gazed upwards into the infinite stars and thanked every single one personally for his life.

The air took on a clammy chill as he paused to look down at the cave entrance. He could still hear the slow rustlings of walking corpses roaming the dark corners of the tomb. The entrance had to be closed, he knew, blasted into rubble so nothing could ever emerge from the tombs again. Shayne took the case of explosives from under the seat of the jeep and placed the rifle in the backseat. He took a roll of wire and the case and raced down the hill to the cave. After he tightened the clamps down around the wire ends, he set the timer for ninety seconds and sprinted back to the jeep. There was a great explosion that rocked the camp and the mountain collapsed, covering the tomb entrance once again.

Shayne blew a sigh of relief. He watched the dust settle below, then turned back to the jeep. He found the keys waiting in the ignition.

****

The lunar outfitted vehicle sprang to life with a turn of the key and Shayne rolled down the rocky slope to the sprawling valley below. He kept the twin killers of panic and horror suppressed way down in his gullet and he drove as fast as the jeep would take him. The winds were gentle and cool and Shayne knew that night had descended on the moon. At least in terms of time. The sun never rose or set here, but he could feel when evening rolled in.

There was a flash in the sky and Shayne looked up to see a comet soar over the landscape, then vanish. For a moment, he found himself wanting to drop out of the army and build a tiny house way out in the desert, escape the moon colonies for good. Live out the remainder of his life out of uniform and totally alone. He had left something back there in the rubble of the tomb. What he couldn’t quite put a finger on. But what he did know now was that it was wrong. All of it. He shouldn’t be here. They would have to understand. All of them. The people of Tara al Bey and New York. The people coming on other rockets. They would all have to return to earth. The moon was no place to colonize.

There was an evil here older than man. And it would never allow them to live in peace now. This was not their land. Earthlings did not belong on the moon.

The mountains were not so far behind when something odd happened. There was an explosion of sand far off to the right. Shayne glanced out into the star lit expanse, but everything was still. He thought for a second that he had imagined it, but another blast of sand rose in the desert, then quickly disappeared.

Shayne stiffened and grasped the wheel tighter. He touched the rifle in the seat beside him, just for reassurance. He pressed his boot harder on the gas pedal. The jeep sailed off across the sand.

Another explosion of sand. Shayne shot a second glance out at the desert. Something was wrong. Another explosion, this one closer to the vehicle. Shayne grabbed the rifle and held it in the crook of his arm. He had the accelerator pushed flat on the floor. Wind tore through the open cab of the jeep and dropped tiny sand particles that stung Shayne’s face and neck. The jeep was going as fast as it possibly could, but it wasn’t fast enough.

There was another surge of sand out in the desert, and another. Shayne gritted his teeth and drove like a madman. All of a sudden something was there with him. A dark, hulking shadow ran alongside the jeep. Before Shayne could react, something hit the jeep hard and the vehicle skidded off to the right. Shayne tried to keep the jeep from flipping. He turned the wheel to the left gradually and tried to keep control. Great sheets of sand flew up and hit him in the eyes, blinding him.

An inhuman roar emerged from somewhere amidst the chaos and a chorus of beastly howls joined in. The desert was filled with the awful sound. Shayne screamed and jerked the wheel and the jeep was back on the road again. The fear was crippling, but the lieutenant kept driving.

Shayne could hear the sound of great footfalls…something huge running up behind him. He braced himself, with both hands on the wheel. There was a second’s pause, as if a storm was about to hit, then a fantastic impact that rocked Shayne and nearly forced him out of the seat. He lost control of the jeep again and swerved off the road, narrowly missing a boulder.

Back on the road again, Shayne peered nervously through the rear view mirror…and what he saw chilled his soul. A huge reptile pounced upon the boulder he had just avoided and launched itself skyward with its two muscled, coil like, legs. Shayne was helpless and all he could do was watch in stark horror as the beast sailed through the air, closer and closer…a terrible lizard silhouetted against a starry sky.

The thing landed on the back of the jeep. There was a terrific groan and apocalyptic grind of breaking glass and twisting metal. Shayne ceased to be a man at that moment and had no more control over himself and his destiny than a bug in a tornado. He flew through the air and landed in the sand several yards away. The lieutenant lay there, with the world a blur and every fiber of his being an aching mass of muscle and tissue that would not respond to his reeling brain’s hopeless commands.

He struggled to keep his fluttering eyelids open. To pass out now meant his death. Slowly he raised his throbbing head. His mind was a muddled fog bank. There were several of the things and they moved towards him cautiously, studying him. Shayne figured there was a good solid dozen. They were lizards, but humanoid. Their scaly bodies were thick and muscular. A dark silver…maybe with a hint of gold…the color of the moon. Their faces were full of fangs dripping saliva and their snouts lay flat on their faces. They looked human almost and they stared without as much as a drop of mercy in their glimmering yellow eyes at Shayne, lying vulnerable and broken on the roadway.

Shayne knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was a dead man.

Then it hit him. Shayne remembered the crude drawings on the cave wall. These were the unholy servants of the pharaoh. The subjugated race of creatures enslaved by the moon-king and his legions. These were the workers and the last line of defense for the old kingdom. Interlopers would not leave here alive. The king made sure of that.

Shayne closed his eyes and lay his head down in the sand. “I give up,” he muttered, his voice a hoarse whisper. No one would miss him anyway. His file would be stamped MIA and that would be that.

He could feel the ground vibrating with every forward step those creatures took. He raised his head again and groaned. There would be search parties. Other soldiers would venture up there, to the tomb, looking for Shayne and the others. And they would die. He couldn’t let that happen. He pushed himself up with his arms. The pain was unbearable, but he had to get out of there, warn the others.

He was on his knees. The beasts…those moon-demons…stood there patiently, waiting for him to make it to his feet. Their claws were unusually long…too long for their bodies. Those dagger-like fingers could rip open a metal door. Shayne knew they could make short work of him. They grinned and the saliva pooled around their razor sharp teeth, dripping onto the sand. They were enjoying this. They hoped he would run, so they could have the sport of chasing him down.

Lt. Shayne was on his feet now. He took a step forward and when he did, those things followed his lead. The pain in his back and legs was terrible, but he took another step and tried to put the gnawing ache out of his mind. He glanced around for his gun, but it was nowhere to be seen. Not that it would do any good anyway against twelve or more of these things. But it would have been nice to have had it in his hands. A soldier feels all alone without his rifle.

Shayne took another step and another and broke out into a slow, torturous jog. He moaned in pain as he moved, but he continued on down the road to Tara al Bay. The demons might get him, but they would have to catch him first.

Shayne laughed. And they damn well would.

The monsters followed behind him, taking their time. They were going to let him think he was escaping. Let him toil and struggle for a few more minutes, then they would pounce on him and that would be that.

The cruel bastards.

Their bloodlust was so strong that Shayne could feel it.

Shayne hobbled down the road. When he got some feeling back in his legs, he picked up the pace and when he did, those things did, too. They began to howl and jeer. Shayne shuddered and tried to block the awful noise out of his ears. He knew what hell sounded like now. In just a moment, he would know what it felt like, too…

Something appeared suddenly on the horizon. It emerged out of the low lying, star laden sky and headed towards them. Headlights.

Then Shayne remembered. It was one of the late night trucks that carried goods and supplies from earth town to earth town. Tara al Bay to New York. Sometimes, when there was a rocket, the trucks moved supplies, often taking all night long. The driver was on his night route.

Shayne glanced over his shoulder and wondered if the beasts had noticed the approaching truck yet. He seemed to be the sole focus of their attention. He wracked his brain, trying to decide what his next move would be. This was his only chance of making it, but those things would never allow him to climb into the truck and escape.

The truck was closer now. The headlights were like two cat eyes appearing out of the darkness. The lizard creatures saw it. Shayne could feel their hot breath. Their bloodcurdling howls split his ears apart and he cupped his hands over his head, trying to shut the horrible sound out.

The driver leaned on the horn and began to slow down. He was going to be in for the shock of his life. Lt. Shayne waved his arms and in one last ditch effort of survival, he mustered every ounce of strength he could and sprinted for the truck with the beasts hot on his heels. The truck rolled forward and Shayne leaped for the side step. The driver leaned over and opened the door. Shayne grabbed the hand rail and pulled himself up into the seat, just as one of those things raked his leg with its enormous claws. The driver didn’t wait for orders. He threw the truck into gear and took off.

Searing pain shot through Shayne’s leg and he screamed. Another demon leaped up on the step after him and Shayne punched it in the teeth. It fell and landed on its back in the sand. Two more of them pounced onto the truck. One of them shoved its arm through the open passenger window and grabbed Shayne by the shirt. All of a sudden there was the loud report of a gun and Shayne glanced over to see the driver aiming a smoking pistol at the thing’s face. The beast clutched at its eyes and plummeted from the moving truck. It slammed onto the road and rolled a few times in a cloud of dust behind them.

Another one tried to get at the driver, but the man shoved the pistol in its mouth and pulled the trigger. The beast’s face exploded and it fell away from the cab, but it ripped the door from the hinges on its way out. Shayne heard the impact of the metal door on the road behind them.

The moon demons were fast…like lightning fired from a cannon. The others raced alongside the truck and took turns slamming into the cab and the trailer. With every running lunge, the entire truck shook violently. The driver was doing all he could do to hold onto the wheel and stay on the road.

The driver looked at Shayne. “What are these things, Lieutenant?”

“Would you believe the guardians of an ancient moon-king?”

The driver ran his fingers through his tussled hair. “What?”

One of them leaped through the air and landed on the hood. It drew its massive arm back and smashed the windshield with all it had. A slender fissure formed in the center of the glass and traveled vertically up the windshield before it stopped. The beast was about to strike the glass again when the driver swerved sharply and threw the beast from the front of the truck.

“Get on your radio,” Shayne said. “Alert the troops in town. They need to be ready with some massive firepower when we get there.”

The driver grabbed the transmitter from the dash and made the call in to Tara al Bey. The truck screamed into the town with a throng of wailing demons in tow. They were met with a line of armed troops and a steady barrage of bullets that pushed them back into the desert.

The things rushed the soldiers that blocked the main street and prevented the creatures from making their way into the populated areas. The driver peered from behind the cracked windshield and gasped as one of the things seized a soldier and lifted him into the air. The reptilian horror sank its fangs into the helpless soldier’s chest and drank deep from the man’s blood before a shell exploded at its feet and knocked it flat. The others did not get that close. The soldiers formed a tight line and pummeled the monsters until they were either gory piles of flesh or they retreated into the desert.

Lt. Shayne hopped from the truck and limped into headquarters, right into the colonel’s office. The men watched in awe as he passed them. A trail of blood followed Shayne down the marble floored hall. His leg wound needed stitches. He would have to visit the infirmary after reporting in.

He knew exactly what his report was going to be.

His superior commander stood before the window with his back to Shayne, watching the aftermath of the fight outside. “Welcome home, soldier.”

“Thank you, sir,” Shayne said as he half heartedly saluted. “Colonel…with your permission…”

“By all means.”

“Colonel…I am the only survivor from the expedition into the mountains. We don’t belong here. Earth doesn’t belong here. We found something up there that we can’t explain. Things beyond the pale of our imaginations.” Shayne leaned on the desk in front of him. He felt his head begin to swim. He was about to pass out. His heart began to beat faster and the blood in his veins began to surge like ice in a frozen river. “We don’t belong here, sir. The moon is death…”

The colonel turned from the window to face Shayne. His skin was an ashen grey and his eyes were clouded, glowing beacons from a lost world. A sardonic smile ripped across the colonel’s face and his raspy voice resonated like shovelfuls of sand heaped upon an open grave. “Vraah le Ubtarr va al Bree…Ak al vree al Seek…,” he said as he reached into the desk drawer and produced a pistol, aiming it calmly at Shayne’s face. “I agree, completely, Lieutenant…”

This story originally appeared in Project Moonbase, Pro Se Productions, 2017. It was reprinted in How To Make A Monster, Yellow Door Press, 2020 and in The Appalachian Book of the Dead #4, Spring 2025.