The Misfortune Cycle: River Desert

Chapter 6

The mud engulfed Torun's feet as he landed on the Bank. The rain draped on him like a frigid blanket, it's patter ceaseless on the furious river behind him. He changed the magazine of his gun as he walked into the island. The weed was getting wet in his pocket. The cone of light from behind him bobbed up and down and with the waves. The edges of light bled into the abyss.

He called out, "Ashraful! Lanka!"

Nothing. Only the rolling wails of the spring rainstorm.

Leaning forward and eyes sharp, he took steps into the island, each fall of his foot making a splotch on the mud despite his best measures.

He was fifty or so feet from the boat when he heard the first gunshot. Then the second one. Shotgun. From the right.

That shrill otherworldly screech travelled through the downpour, followed by the gallop of quick feet. Stopped by another shot. Something heavy fell.

Torun raised his gun as he saw another figure approach him from the distance. It was human shaped. Some fifty feet away. The light from the back cast a length of shadow behind it.

"Who?" Torun yelled, leveling his gun to point at the figure's head. It was feminine.

"Torun?" It was Lanka's voice, "it's me."

"Lanka?"

"Yes," As it came closer, Torun saw that it was Lanka. And she was bleeding from her neck, "It got me." The blood flowed down in a trickle from a jagged wound she tried to cover. It looked black in the poor, unsteady light.

Torun didn't lower his gun, instead roaming the sight behind Lanka, looking for a target, "Where's your gun? Where's Ashraful?"

"I — I dropped it. And I lost Ashraful in the rain," Lanka stared at his gun, limping in her steps, "Look, we should really get to the boat. It's way to strong for us to —"

A shot. It hit her in the back of her head with a bloodless crunch. The second one was on the neck.

"Get away from it!" Lanka ran towards them, sixty feet away. Torun jumped away from the target and fell on his butt.

What pretended to be Lanka screeched, stretching and distorting, and ran on two legs. Its neck lengthened, but now unable to bear its own weight, it fell to the ground, dragging its head through the mud. Torun sent three bullets at it. The creature picked up the serpentine appendage with one ridiculously elongated hand, and in less than two seconds, it was out of visual, leaving deep prints on the now soft mud.

"It can become other people," Lanka said as she jogged towards him. She had a lateral gash on her cheek. It bled bright red. She held her shotgun high.

"Why is your friend a demon?" Torun asked as he stood up.

"That's not Mohona,"  Lanka answered and then looked at his gun, "You shot her. I saw. Your bullets don't work?"

Torun shook his head, "Not unless I shoot it in the eye, no."

Lanka pulled out her machete and offered it to him, "This works."

Torun took it. It was heavier than a handgun and almost a foot long. The weight felt reassuring on his palm.

"Have you seen Ashraful?" Torun asked.

"He was following me but that thing attacked and we got seperated," Lanka frowned, "Then that thing took his shape and tried to approach me."

"How did you know it wasn't him?"

"Wrong color shirt."

"We need to warn Ashraful," Torun said as he brought out his phone from his pocket. It was wet, but the screen turned on. The wet touchscreen was clunky, but Torun managed to find Ashraful's number. The call rang once.