Forever Reign the King

Corpses littered the streets like trash in a city. Some were sprawled out, others positioned standing up, a few cut down into pieces and still more left as nothing but whole skeletons. The air was rich with the smell of crap that had been fried and boiled and left out to dry for a year. And the roads… Well, there were no roads. Just sharp rocks that jutted up, trying to stab you through your boots, that almost formed a path through the collapsing buildings and eroding shacks. 

John’s back felt like an oven, the sun pressing against his black t-shirt with all the strength it had. One of the hottest days of the year, John thought, based on the waterfall of sweat dripping down his face and the sunburn slowly blistering his neck. The heat didn’t really bother John though. It was his knees, which burst with pain every time he took a step that was just an ounce too heavy. When you’d been shot in the kneecaps multiple times, you learned to deal with the pain. There was worse out there. 

John rested his hand against his holster, his eyes surveying the land in search of some source of water. Damn that sweet nectar. He would be halfway through the Sakar Desert by now if he didn’t need a well within ten feet of his mouth at all times. He looked out at the ocean, which was just barely visible. God was a cruel joker. So much water, and yet it was as lethal as the sun that beat upon his back. 

John shrugged, put his hat on that he’d been fanning himself with for the past half hour, and kept moving forward. No need to think about the future, he decided. Best to just think about today. That was the motto that had gotten him through 40 fights, 400 nights, and lost him his only 4 friends. 

But hey, it was better than being in hell. 

John moved cautiously-well, not cautiously, just not stupidly-across the spiked road in search of the legendary well so many had apparently died to protect. Idiots, John thought to himself. It wasn’t that these men had failed to protect the town from a singular man; it was the fact that they tried in the first place that was beyond John’s understanding. 

Damn Rat King. If it weren’t for him, John would probably be sleeping snuggly in a trench, blindly fighting some war for some king he didn’t even know the name of. Instead, he was here, in the middle of a burning desert, glancing behind him every few minutes to see if a rat was nipping at his ankles. 

John guessed the place hadn’t been perfect before it was invaded. The broken windows, gunshot holes planted into the walls and unbearable temperatures hadn’t been caused by a bunch of overgrown mice chewing their way through the lost city. No, this had been a hellhole before. 

The hole was just a lot deeper now. 

Still, the rats were gone, and John’s only real objective was to find a well. He didn’t really give a crap about the dead men whose pants were soaked in piss, or whose last few remaining teeth had been stolen by rodents. He cared about water. Nothing else really mattered when you were as thirsty as him. 

The road soon turned to a more open space, which seemed to be a sort of town square. Broken doors were left wide open, bar signs were sitting snugly in the sand, and a beautiful circle of stone sat in the middle of everything. John smiled, and pulled out his canteen. Finally. 

John walked towards the well, knees burning, making sure to check around for rats. The Rat King had been known to leave some of his ‘soldiers’ behind in some places so that they couldn’t be taken back so easily. As much as John hated his work, he had to admire the lunatic; he did all the dirty work himself. That was more than you could say about most of the kings in this cursed land. 

John approached the well, and looked down into it. The water wasn’t far from the top; the only problem was, it was dark brown. A few rats floated calmly in it, blood spilling out of their guts into the water below. As John silently cursed, he heard a faint groan coming from the opposite side of the well. 

He sighed, then slowly pulled out his revolvers. Damn it. Another speed bump. “Who’s there?” He asked, far more annoyed than frightened. “Just show yourself, will ya? I’m getting thirsty over here.” Not like I’ll be able to drink anything though. 

The groaning got louder, and John could hear coughing coming from the opposite side of the well. With some effort, John forced himself to walk over, knees flaring, to the other side of the well, to see who had caused the disturbance. 

John found himself facing a man who looked like he should have died a month ago: His skin was blistering and burnt, bite marks covered his face and hands, and he was so thin John was surprised the gentle breeze hadn’t blown him out of the town. And, most disturbing, one of his eye sockets was completely empty. The two made eye contact, forcing John to stare into his sullen, glossy eye of his for a few seconds. “You look awful,” he mumbled, although the man didn’t seem to hear him. 

“You there,” the man said, his voice weak and cracked, “could you grab me that water bottle out in the sand? I seem to have dropped it.” John looked over at where the man’s bloody finger was pointing, and spotted a clear glass canteen filled to its brim with water, sparkling under the desert sun. A small smirk appeared on John’s face, and he strolled over to the canteen, dreaming of chugging down the bottle before the old man even got a drop. 

Suddenly, a massive black rat scuttled out of one of the nearby buildings and sat himself right next to the canteen. The thing’s body was nearly a foot long, with a ten inch tail that whipped in every direction. John glared at it for a moment, fingering the trigger of his revolver and calculating whether shooting the rodent would break open the glass. Maybe if he aimed it just right… 

Not more than a few seconds passed when two more rats, both bigger than the first, came out from the shadows and began scurrying around the canteen. Then another four. Then a dozen all sprinted out from the same spot, all dancing in a circle around the liquid gold. 

With a sigh, John raised his revolver and aimed it at one of the largest rats and fired, hoping to scare the rest away with the noise. The bullet missed completely, lodging itself harmlessly into the sand. Worse still, none of the rats seemed disturbed by the noise, and a few more came out of their hiding places to join the circle. 

“Bastards,” John muttered under his breath. He heard a shuffling in the sand behind him. When he turned around, he nearly dropped to the ground; the one-eyed man was completely covered in rodents, which swarmed around his body and marched up and down his limbs like flies on a carcass. 

John had to admit that he didn’t quite expect the man to begin standing up. Shouts and squeaks echoed through the dry air as the man stood, his legs stiff and his arms flailing about. John stepped back, right into the group of rats who had been dancing behind him. 

“The hell?” John muttered under his breath, kicking the vermin crawling around his boots and scratching up his shins. His knees felt as if they had been shoved into a raging fire, and for a few seconds he thought he might fall to his knees in anguish.  A few moments later though, the rats suddenly turned directions and began running past him, straight towards the rat-covered cyclops. 

The man had become more rat than human. Head to toe, rats were dashing up and down his skin, his body turning into a massive lump of gray fur. John took another painful step back, his boot landing softly onto the canteen below.

“Well?” The man asked, completely stupefying John. “Won’t you give a dying old man a sip?” John could feel his hands begin to quiver, his stomach churning slowly as the man spoke. He squeezed the handle of his revolver, and slowly pointed it towards the monstrosity.

A gunshot rang through the air. Then another. A few seconds later, John’s chamber was empty, and to his utter shock, the man was still standing. John looked down at the man’s feet, and saw at least a dozen rats lying dead on the floor, their limbs still twitching and their eyes still open. And in each and every one of them was a small bullet hole, drops of rat blood dripping out of them. 

Thickest damn rats John had ever seen

“My patience don’t last for long boy. Now give it.” The man gestured at John, who bent down and grabbed the canteen. It had been a long time since he had conceded defeat, John thought with annoyance. But, as he stared at the man, the possessed dying rodent man, John decided that now was as good a time as any. So, limping cautiously, John brought the canteen over to the rat man. 

The man’s arm crawled with rodents as he reached out and grabbed the canteen from John. The moment the bottle left his hand, John began stumbling backwards, never ceasing eye contact with the stranger. 

The strange man smiled an almost toothless grin as he opened the canteen and poured every last drop of it in his mouth. John grimaced; he was probably going to be thirsty for a long time. Unless, that was, he wanted to drink rat-crap from the sewer well in front of him. 

The strange man dropped the canteen on the ground, all the rats swarmed over it like bees in a hive. “Well,” he said, walking towards John, “at least there are a few good men in this world of evil, huh?” 

John watched as the stranger got closer, the squeaks of the rats getting deafening loud as he approached. John stood still. He would’ve run, like a coward, if he had the chance. The only problem was, he hadn’t had that chance in a long time. 

The rat man approached, and John waited for the inevitable. All this time, all these years of fighting and barely hanging onto life, just to be mauled to death by a bunch of rats. How pathetic. But, John supposed, it seemed to be the fashion these days. 

The fact was still hard to accept though. John could feel his heart shooting blood through his veins when the man was close enough John could hear his breath, and feel the rustling of the rats on the stranger’s skin. It brought a sickening feel to it. Just let it happen, John thought to himself. It’ll all be over soon. 

But, to John’s shock, the man kept moving onward. As he passed, he let out a roar of laughter, the rats squealing along with him. “Forever reign the king.” The man hissed before he disappeared into the depths of the town. Once he was gone completely, John collapsed to the ground. After a few moments of making sure he was alive, John sighed and looked out towards the mountains in the far distance. This was just how the world was now. 

And maybe, he thought with a shudder, this was how it would always be.