"The Haunted Lands" - Final in the four-part series 'Chimera' - Mixed media on plywood. My 134th painting.

 

Beth is utterly destroyed. Rod struggles to offer comfort. Alex sits on a rock several feet away, despondent. No living thing should have to witness such horrors. Rod sits on the ground holding his wife close.

“Beth, listen to me.” he whispers.

She doesn’t speak or open her eyes.

“I know you are - WE are devastated - but we can’t stay here.”

Her breathing is labored. 

“All this commotion is bound to attract more of these things. We’re not safe here.”

She pulls away from him and is quickly on her feet.

“We’re not safe here? We’re not fucking safe anywhere!” she screams.

“Which is why we need to keep moving.” Rod pleads, voice cracking.

“Why? This is as good a place to die as any! Because that’s what we’re facing!” she continues.

“At least we’ll be close to her.” she adds, sobbing.

Rod grabs and hugs her tightly, her body shakes with torment.

She finds a still moment in the pain. 

“Can we at least bury our youngest child?” 

Emotion spills down Rod’s face.

“Yes. Yes.” he says nodding. 

Beth wipes her face and attempts a smile.

“You just sit, we’ll gather some digging sticks.” he says. 

She looks around for a place with cover.

“I need to pee.”

Rod scans the area.

“Behind those rocks. Alex, check it first.”

The boy picks up his rifle and moves to the boulders for a quick inspection. He gives a nod of safety to his mother, she walks over and hugs him tight.

“I love you son.” she says softly in the embrace.

“I love you too mom.”

She disappears behind the rocks.  

Rod and Alex scour the area for fallen limbs stout enough to penetrate the dense clay. Several minutes pass - Beth hasn’t returned. 

“Go check on her.”

Alex approaches the rocks and listens. 

“Mom, you OK?” 

There was no answer.

“Mom?”

Her gun discharges. Alex jumps, Rod whips around in shock. 

“Nooo!” the boy screams and darts behind the boulders.

Rod couldn’t reach him in time. He found Alex on his knees, arms around his mother - sobbing, covered in Beth’s blood. The day had been too much for her.

TWO HOURS LATER

Rod and Alex are exhausted but were able to construct a loving monument to a wife, mother, daughter and sister. They topped the shared grave with as many large stones as could be found. This was a pain that would never leave them.

The father and son sit in a shaded area paying their respects.

“No sense in heading out now, it’ll be dark soon.” Rod submits quietly.

Neither of them speak for several minutes.

“You think things would’ve been different, if we never left home?” queries the boy. 

“You mean Maryland?”

“Yeah.” 

“There’s really no telling. This thing was worldwide.”

“Why did they do this?” he asks his father.

“Some people just can’t be satisfied. They want more than they can ever use. It’s a sickness.”

He absorbs his father’s words. 

“Most of the time, I think humans are the real monsters.” Rod says, getting to his feet. 

“Let’s see if we can find some of those fruits.”

A faint sound breaks the air. And again. Now closer, louder. It was howling. They freeze, looking at each other - then quickly move to their weapons.

“We’ll check this end first, get behind me.”

Alex loads the rifle and follows his father. Slow, quiet steps. The noise draws nearer, rising in volume. A frenzy of snorting and grunting. There had to be twenty of them. The canyon opens into a clearing, Rod and Alex stop, weapons aimed - standing before them - nearly two dozen choarman. 

“OK, real easy, let’s back it up, I face this way, you face the other. Now.” Rod says calmly.

They inch their way back into the canyon, abominations in tow. After a few yards - the situation changes.

“Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s more.”

They stop, Rod looks behind and sees what has to be at least a dozen more of the same creatures. They’re hemmed in. The two groups initiate monstrous screeching. A show of power before they attack. This was as real as it gets.

“Son, I’m sorry your life turned out this way.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Make it count.”

The two open fire, destroying a great many of the beasts but there were enough that got through to sway victory in their favor. Rod and Alex fought hard, side by side, to the end. 

Their deaths were swift.

"There is No God Here" - Third in the four-part series 'Chimera' - Mixed media on plywood. My 133rd painting.

 

“Aww no no no no, come on you son of a bitch!” Rod begs.

The truck is jerking wildly, it was inevitable - the dreaded stall. It had finally run out of gas. This was not their day. 

“Goddamn piece of shit!”

Milly was not amused.

“You said another swear.”

“Well it probably won’t be the last.” he assures.

He tries restarting the engine but the wires have nothing to work with. Alex and Beth are already unloading the back.

“Here we go.” Rod says to Milly.

They all congregate at the back of the truck before departing.

“Let’s have some water and be on our way.” Rod insists.

Beth fills the cup for her husband.

“This is suicide. I mean, I know we can’t stay here but we will never - “

“Then we’ll die together.” Rod interjects.

He finishes the drink and passes the cup back to Beth. He takes up his weapons and starts walking towards the enormous rock formation in the distance - Uluru - their destination.

Chatter on the shortwave spoke of resistor camps being set up around the sacred site. For whatever reason - the abominations wouldn’t go near it, maintaining what some claim as a ten kilometer perimeter. 

If one could make the treacherous journey, it was indeed a safe haven - but it was still nearly a hundred kilometers away. 

Beth grabs the wagon handle and chases after Rod - Milly beside her, Alex close behind.

“Hey, hey!”

Rod ignores her.

“Wait a goddamn minute!” she demands. 

“Now mommy said a swear.” Milly points out.

Rod stops and turns to face her.

“I want a gun.” 

He scoffs.

“We need to keep moving.” he adds, dismissively.

“Look, we have no idea what’s between us and the place we’re heading. We’ve already crossed paths with unspeakable tragedy. Better three shooters than two. I want a fucking gun!” 

Inches apart - eyes locked in a tense stand-off. Rod, with his best poker face, reaches into his left pocket granting her request. He grabs the business end and extends it to her.

“The bullets come out here.” he says slyly, tapping the barrel. 

He resumes marching. Beth stares at the weapon - its cold, shiny black sheen - then hurries it into her pocket and continues pulling the wagon.

Thirty minutes later - Rod notices the highway ahead bending to the left - he stops and wipes perspiration from his forehead.

“We gotta get off this road.”

The rest of the family come to a momentary halt.

“I’ve seen a map before, this highway crooks and turns, it’ll add at least twenty-five unnecessary kilometers to our trip.”

He points to the towering rock.

“We’re going there - and the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.”

“You mean through the bush?” Beth challenges.

“We’re out of food, dangerously low on water with at least two days of travel left - cutting corners is our only hope.” he says with conviction.

There were no dissenting opinions - in fact, not one of them spoke against the idea. 

“I’m thirsty.” Milly says sheepishly.

“Get her a drink.” Rod says, putting his feet into motion.

Beth fills the cup halfway and hands it to her daughter. Milly empties the cup and gives it back. She and Alex begin walking, Beth gets herself a drink. Alex stops several feet away to wait. She notices the tap on the jug is leaking. 

She fiddles with it but water continues seeping out. Spotting a small scrap of paper in the wagon, she balls it up and plugs the nozzle. It works. She sighs deeply and follows her family into the desert. 

After an hour, they come upon a shallow canyon with massive boulders positioned at the opening. Rod stops short of the entry point. 

“Eyes open, barrels up.”

Each of them ready their weapons. Beth lays her machete in the wagon and pulls the gun from her pocket. 

“Stay close.” she cautions Milly.

She nods, moving slowly behind her mother, clutching a plush bear toy to her chest. Then as if on cue - the left rear wagon wheel breaks off. The vessel stops dead in its tracks. 

“Goddamn piece of shit!” Milly exclaims.

They all stare at the little girl - then break into laughter. Milly kicks the wagon several times to vent her frustration.

“Good thing there’s not much left. Pack up the ammo, we’ll take turns carrying the water.” Rod says.

Beth divides the munitions between her pack and Alex’s, then lifts the water jug - panic strikes - it’s much lighter than it should be. She raises the large plastic container to confirm. Looking into the wagon, the paper plug lay in a small puddle. Their last few liters gone.

“Water’s empty.” she announces, holding up the jug.

Rod spins around to meet this new obstacle.

“We had almost two gallons, what the hell happened?”

Beth doesn’t know what to say. He storms over, grabs the container and glances down into the wagon. Beth wells up.

“I thought I fixed it.” she says, tears trickling.

Rod is furious. He flings the jug against the canyon wall. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he barks.

Milly drops her bear and covers her ears.

“You were already upset and we were losing time!” she pleads.

“You’ve just killed us all!”

The screaming match continues several more seconds.

“Stop it! Both of you!” shouts Alex. 

Rod kicks the wagon, flipping it over. 

Beth attempts to compose herself.

“Where’s Milly?” Alex asks.

“Oh God, Milly!?” Beth calls out, looking in all directions.

They arm up and begin the search. Piercing the eerie silence - a child’s scream. The three race towards the sound at the mouth of the canyon. They surround the cluster of huge boulders - ready to fire - but they are paralyzed by what emerges. They were not prepared for what they were seeing.

It lumbered into view - covered in filthy, matted fur - filling the air with the stench of rot and decay. One of the most dreaded abominations. 

A hybrid of Silverback gorilla and Kodiak bear origins. Its face gnarled and unnatural - like a forced fit of jigsaw puzzle pieces. Rearing up on its hind legs, the twelve-hundred pounds of murder stood over ten feet high. The behemoth clenches Milly, small and lifeless, in its jaws.

The beast bites down and shakes its head violently side to side, the poor child’s body falls to the ground in pieces - her blood painting its broad chest, her entrails dangling from its frothing mouth. It raises its paws into the air and thunders a roar that reverberates off the canyon walls.  There could be no Hell worse than this.

Beth issues a blood-curdling scream and collapses, wailing and convulsing in the dirt. The father and son open fire with everything they’ve got. The grotesque creature is down. Rod blankets the beast with flame as it lay beside his young daughter’s remains.

"A Scourge of Blasphemy" - Second in the four-part series 'Chimera' - Mixed media on plywood. My 132nd painting.

 

The four travelers move briskly down the highway - Rod in the lead, Beth and Milly trailing behind with Alex guarding the rear. Each head on a swivel. There was no telling when trouble would arrive.

After a few kilometers they stop for a water break. Rod removes the fuel tank from his back, setting the flame-gun down beside it. Beth fills a small plastic cup and they pass it around. Alex checks the shortwave for any news. 

“Still pretty choppy.” he relays.

“Shut it off, gotta save the battery.” Rod instructs. 

Beth stands next to the wagon, her beast of burden, finishing the cup of water and wiping sweat from her brow. She gazes out into the bush - beaten down by centuries of scorching heat - her eyes settle on a small grove of trees. A minuscule garden of Eden in the otherwise endless red clay.

Then a sudden change - her heart races - she detects movement!

“Rod, the trees.” she gasps.

They all lock onto a dark figure maneuvering in the distance. Rod slings the tank back on - flamethrower in hand. Beth grips her machete tightly. Alex raises the rifle. Milly finds safety behind her mother.

“Let’s go.” Rod says to Alex.

The two jog towards the disturbance. Closing in, the smell of rotting flesh stains the air. They cautiously slow to a walk.

Weapons poised to engage - the abomination clings desperately to the trunk in the upper limbs. It was one of a ghastly concoction - chimpanzee, wild boar and human. Referenced in short order as a choarman. One of several bastardized species created in an underground lab for the purpose of release in the last days of civilization - in hopes of eradicating any resistors. 

The scene was nightmarish. Three disemboweled bodies - man, woman and child. Most likely a family. They were what the choarman was feasting on until being interrupted. Now the ungodly creature stands snorting and howling on a high branch of the tree. It has to be done.

“Make it count.” Rod tells his only son.

Alex raises the barrel, aims and eliminates the threat. Headshot. The beast tumbles to the ground, losing blood on its travels. 

They share a look - this was not a place either of them thought they’d ever be - but this is where life has brought them. It was time to get moving.

Two hours and eight sore feet later, they come upon what is thought to be an apparition. Could it actually be real? As they draw closer the image remains - a small, dirty pick-up truck. Sitting just off the road, it appears to be in decent condition. It was too good to be true.

“I’ll check it out, stay here.” Rod says before advancing towards the abandoned vehicle. 

“Oh please God let it be.” Beth whispers.

Rod circles the truck slowly with a wide berth. Nothing unusual, he ducks his head inside to check for keys - no such luck. He waves the family on anyway. 

He lays down his weapon and pops the hood, surely a quick once-over wouldn’t go amiss. The others arrive, anxiously awaiting. 

“You think it’s got any gas?” Alex wonders aloud.

Rod is still tinkering under the hood.

“We’re about to find out.” 

He pulls a folding-knife from his pocket and sits in the driver’s seat.

“Load up, just in case. Milly, up here with me.”  

Alex and Beth lift the wagon into the truck bed and climb aboard. Milly jumps into the passenger seat. They were all hoping for a miracle. Rod fumbles a few more seconds with the wires under the dash - VROOOM - it worked!

“Yes!” he yells, elated.

The gauge shows just over an eighth of a tank. 

“Go, go!!” Alex cheers, Beth wipes away tears of joy. 

They speed off, leaving a thick cloud of orange dust behind.

"Killing Fields" - First in the four-part series 'Chimera' - Mixed media on plywood. My 131st painting.

 

HALFWAY BETWEEN ALICE SPRINGS & GHAN

The small white van screeches to a dead stop, slams into reverse and shoots back about twenty yards - then stops again. 

“I’ll get it.” offers Alex, Rod’s fourteen year-old son.

“NO, I will! You keep watch.” Rod counters.

Alex grabs the .50 cal rifle and climbs from the back seat. Rod leaps from the still-running van and speeds to the rear, throwing the back doors wide open. Alex stands guard, scanning the barren red surroundings. 

Rod claims the newly found roadside item, quickly crams it into the van and jumps back inside. They race away as though it were a crime scene. 

“Thank you daddy!” Milly says beaming.

“No more stops.” Rod replies bluntly.

The tiny, blonde six year-old fumbles in her dirty, tattered pink purse in search of his reward. Found it!

“You get a gold star.” she says sweetly, placing it onto his left wrist.

“Thank you.”

They barrel past a sign that reads GHAN 107 km.

“What’s going on?” asks Beth, Rod’s wife, rousing from some road-trip shut-eye. 

“Puttin’ miles behind us.”

There was an unexpected calm in the vehicle. An acceptance of sorts - not only of the situation at hand, but of the many potentially unfavorable outcomes. 

Beth returns to her nap. Milly carries on singing a jingle from her favorite cartoon. Alex stares vacantly out the window. On the face of it, you’d never know they were running for their lives. Then it happened - one of those unfavorable outcomes.

The van starts knocking - the old spit & sputter - a few more knocks and it dies. 

“Fuckin’ Christ!” Rod yells, pounding both fists on the dash.

Beth sits up in the passenger seat.

“What’s wrong, why are we stopped?”

“Daddy said a swear.” Milly declares quietly.

“We had enough gas, goddamnit!”

“You think it’s a leak?” she asks.

“I don’t know. That or the fucking gauge is off!”

Milly reaches forward from the back seat.

“You lose your gold star.” she says with a grimace, removing the sticker from her father’s wrist.

“Where are we?” Beth questions.

“Imanpa.” Alex replies. 

“So how much further?”

“Two-hundred fucking kilometers!” Rod shouts, punching the dashboard once more. 

“We will never make that, not out here.” she says with a tremble.

“We got no choice. We’ve got to try.” Rod states solemnly.

A quiet few moments pass. 

“We’ll take as much as we can carry. Only the essentials. Let’s move.”

On his command, they exit the vehicle gathering at the rear. He opens the back doors and is greeted by an almost forgotten gift. 

“Looks like Milly just saved us.” he announces.

That roadside item she pleaded over - a rusty little red wagon. It had seen better days but was still intact and functional. This meant they could transport their few remaining supplies. Not to mention the five gallon water jug - which was still nearly full. 

Rod and Alex load the wagon. Beth fills two backpacks with most of what’s left. Milly makes sure to pack her purse with all that will fit. They save the important things for last. 

Rod tucks away two handguns and grabs the flamethrower and fuel tank. Alex follows suit, sticking a pistol in his pocket, then taking up the rifle. Beth hands Alex one of the packs, slings the other over her shoulder and straps a sheathed machete to her back, keeping one in hand. 

It was time to march.