This work contains descriptions and depictions of gore, body horror, symptoms of illness, medical distress, injuries to the ears, burns, cults, parasites, blasphemy, bugs, brief discussion of sex, contemplating eating human remains, contemplating the taste of the meat of a humanoid being, bodily control, trauma, identity disturbances, infant death (mentioned), torture, starvation (mentioned), and decapitation.
Sinkhole swallows telecommunications hub
With Halloween a few weeks out, the air carried more of a chill by the day, making it the perfect time of year to hit the Iron Falls Overlook. True to its name it offered a splendid view of the Falls, framed by trees filled with the vibrant colors of fall. In the summer, it was a popular spot for picnicking families and tourists. But at this late hour, at this time of year, there was no one to be found but Betsy and Red.
A firepit marked the Overlook’s center, halved logs providing seating around it. Betsy rested against one, a half-munched veggie kebab in hand. Red squat next to her, taking up the skewer he’d impaled a dozen hotdogs on for roasting.
“My, we haven’t done this in a long time!” he said.
Betsy’s chewing paused. “What’s that?”
“Huddling in the wilderness together, cooking over an open fire… Why, I remember it like it were yesterday!”
She snorted.
“Yeah, and we’re not freezing our asses off or dealin’ with my emotional baggage this time,” she said.
Red clicked his tongue. “’Baggage’? You’re being far too hard on yourself.”
Her chewing paused again as she bit back a surge of emotion. Though he’d changed his name and face once more, damn if Ankhanum couldn’t be oddly touching when he wished to.
“Yeah, maybe,” she admitted.
Betsy looked out toward the Falls. Rusty red rushing water sparkled under moonlight and city lights. The smell of smoke and meat and metal wafted through the cooling air, making her almost feel at ease. But there was a weight upon her shoulders. Quite literally, what with the bag she’d brought along at Sanderson’s behest strapped to her—
“Betsy! Check this out!” said Red.
Check she did, just in time for Red to slide the length of the burning skewer down his gullet, ‘dogs and all. His teeth clenched together, and he pulled the skewer out in one smooth motion, sans ‘dogs. He sucked them down, the unchewed lumps visibly passing through his esophagus. After a moment, he pounded his chest with a fist, letting out an unsavory belch.
Betsy burst out laughing. “Ew!”
“Oh, pardon me,” he said, not apologetic at all. “Swallowed a bit too much air there.”
He discarded the skewer and laid against the log with her.
“So. Gonna tell me what’s in the bag?” he asked.
Betsy tensed, pulling it closer to herself. He’d asked before they’d departed for their date, only for her to insist she’d show him once they got here. Now was the promised time. Hesitantly, she pulled out a tape recorder and a book, though the latter was more of a handbound pamphlet filled with handwritten text. Red stroked his chin with renewed interest.
“Offerings?” he asked.
“Sorta,” Betsy said. “Herbert’s been working on this big project for awhile, and he wanted you to check it out.”
She passed them on. On the book’s leather cover: The Ankhanum Handbook. Red gasped with mock shock.
“The good doctor wrote a book about little ol’ me?” he asked.
When he started to thumb through it, Betsy snorted.
“Hold on there, Buddy. On the tape’s an interview,” Betsy said. “He said you should listen to that first.”
Red’s lips grew taut with disappointment, but he patiently placed the book aside to turn the recorder over in his hand. Though it resembled the one he’d stolen from Sanderson many moons ago, it lacked the tooth-punctured plastic of the original. This was new.
“An interview with whom?” he asked.
“Norman,” Betsy said.
Red’s face was blank. Not even a flicker of recognition.
“He kidnapped me, so I crashed his car? Had bugs in his ears?” she suggested, pointing to her own.
Still nothing.
“...That guy you almost ate,” she tried.
It was then Red’s brows bristled.
“Oh! That guy!” he said.
Betsy grimaced. Of course Red sooner remembered him with his appetite – they’d only briefly spoken before boarding their respective buses in Iron Falls, and Norman and Sanderson’s siege on Eleanor Hassen’s office had been their final encounter. The entities hadn’t spent the time with him she had while he and his partner had shacked up at her mom’s house.
“Uh. Yeah. That guy,” she said.
“Oh, yes, I recall Norman now,” Red said. “The one you’d—”
He stopped himself.
Have burnt to a crisp, had these ones not shown up sat on the tip of his tongue.
She’d joked about it herself at the time. Sure. But it could hit too hard after his predecessors burnt to death before her eyes. While that meant little to him, they were having a lovely evening. A tonal repeat of New Years’ drunken spat wouldn’t do.
Betsy rose a brow. “The one I’d…?”
“—thought was handsome,” he said instead, a mischievous grin parting his lips. “These ones saw the way you looked at him.”
Betsy smiled sheepishly.
“Can you blame me? The guy’s good-looking! Before he got all beat to shit, he was really put together, too. I mean, like, tailored suit, hair was perfect,” she said.
Red’s grin widened.
“Betsy prefers the clean-cut sort? I chose my new look well, then,” he said.
At that, her cheeks began to burn.
“Man, shut up,” she said, though she was smiling. “You gonna listen to that tape or what?”
Chuckling, Red made himself comfortable, and hit PLAY.
DR. SANDERSON: “Recording begins. I am Dr. Herbert Sanderson, and the following interview is being conducted as reference material for my ‘handbook’-to-be on the Ankhanum. May I say how pleased I am to finally speak with you one-on-one, Mr. Nguyen?”
N: “Call me Norman. And certainly. It’s embarrassing when a grown man has to get down on his hands and knees and beg—”
S: [Clearing his throat.] “Yes, yes. Anyway. You shared the story during our encounter in Iron Falls, but I’d like it on the record: how did you end up a host to the Ankhanum?”
N: “I was still in school. I’d been tutoring a girl struggling with her studies. Her boyfriend saw us together and got the wrong idea, so he had his buddies give me a beating under this old bridge out of the way of my usual walk home. When he pulled out a knife, his friends kind of laughed it off, thinking he wouldn’t really stab me. When he did, they all ran off in a panic. I was bleeding out, and they were the only ones who knew I was there.”
[NORMAN pauses.]
N: “There was this … rust-colored moss covering the underside of the bridge. It started moving, actually ripped itself up to get closer. I think it was attracted to my blood. All I remember after that is waking up to find the wound had closed.”
S: “What changes did you undergo as a result of infection?”
N: “When I came to it was dark out. Then my eyes adjusted, and I could see the way back to the main path as clearly as if it were day. I grew, almost overnight. I’d been small and slight compared to other boys my age, and I went from barely filling out my uniform to hitting my head on doorways.”
S: “Good God. What was going through your mind at the time?”
N: “I thought I’d been possessed!” [Giggles.] “My mother loves a good folktale; when we were growing up, she’d say my sisters and I would run afoul of mischievous spirits if we stayed out late. I never believed any of it, but meeting Rêu put the fear of the supernatural in me for a time.”
S: “If I’m recalling correctly, Rêu is what you call your Ankhanum? When you’ve talked about him in the past, you’ve done so as if he’s separate from you. Are you able communicate with one another?”
N: “He gets his input from my body; he hears what I hear, sees what I see. He can feel my heart race when I’m stressed, and feel how long my stomach’s been empty. Hunger’s the main reason he talks to me.”
S: “He talks to you?”
N: “Yes. His isn’t an external voice, but, not a thought either. It’s deeper inside. Vibrations through my veins, whispering against my heart, humming in the tips of my toes. I’ve heard him all over me.”
[SANDERSON makes a noise like he’s gotten a chill.]
S: “Are you on good terms with one another?”
N: “We’re very close.” [Laughs.] “No pun intended. There’s aspects of our relationship I don’t wish to air out to ‘the public’. If you know what I mean, Dr. Sanderson.”
S: “If I— Oh! Yes, I believe I do.” [Clears throat.] “Did you ever see those boys again after the attack?”
[NORMAN chuckles darkly.]
N: “We all went to the same school, so it was inevitable. The kid that pulled the knife on me, he and I were classmates. After everything that happened and the earful I got from my mother for being out late, I was so exhausted I ended up oversleeping. And wouldn’t you know it? It was storming the next morning. By the time I made it to class, I was sopping wet, dragging my feet—”
[SANDERSON starts to laugh.]
N: “And I looked right at him when I entered the room. I’ve never seen anyone shrivel up like he did then, and I haven’t since. I later found him under that bridge, checking out the scene of the crime. It was then I learned what I was capable of.”
[SANDERSON briefly goes quiet.]
S: “...What exactly did you do to him?”
N: “The flesh of my arm just- fell away, this point jutting from my radius that kept getting sharper. There was pain, at first, then, euphoria. I was on autopilot, holding a bony blade to my attacker’s throat.”
[A weighty silence follows.]
N: “I didn’t kill him, if that’s why you’re looking at me like that. Only scared him. That was enough. He and his friends were notorious bullies, but I never heard of them picking on anyone after that. Our teacher—” [He goes into a giggle fit.] “Our teacher said to me, ‘Minh, why is Tuan saying he killed you, and that your spirit is tormenting him? What kind of trick are you playing on him?’ I learned later that he’d tried to confess, but I looked so well, no one believed him.”
S: “He thought you were a ghost? Amusing, considering you’ve indicated some skepticism for the supernatural. If you’re willing to discuss it, are you or Rêu of any particular religious or spiritual persuasion?”
N: “I pay my respects to my ancestors before all else. Rêu practiced Buddhism for a time, well before my time.”
S: “That surprises me, what with their disdain toward ‘higher powers’.”
N: “I’d say it’s more a loathing of the Godkind than of belief, as mine intrigue him. His people have no ancestry, and they don’t celebrate those who came before. The way he put it was, ‘So many throw themselves blindly at the ‘Gods’, there is no sense in permanence or lineage. There is only us, and like all things, we don’t last.’”
S: “Speaking of that: the entities Betsy freed seemed to have innate knowledge of some ‘mission’ to the destroy the Godkind, and intended to fulfill it no matter the cost. Yet I have no such drive. Do you?”
N: “No, and I knew nothing of them until I had the misfortune of meeting Eleanor Hassen. Rêu never mentioned them. Even after I was implanted all I could get out of him was that he knew her.”
S: “Why hadn’t he told you?”
N: “I don’t really know. But when Eleanor discovered I was a host, I could feel it: he was terrified. Afraid she’d devour me right then and there, like she had that assistant of hers. So he gave in. Sometimes I blame myself for it, the implanting. Our relationship put him in a vulnerable position. Continues to. A few months ago, I had a heart attack.”
S: “What?! I thought- Nevermind. Please, continue.”
N: “I’d been feeling off for awhile. My chest, my lungs, all felt so heavy. Overloaded. I haven’t seen a doctor since before I met Rêu. I didn’t know if they’d be able to tell I had this ‘infection’, and I’ve gotten through worse: burst eardrums, a shotgun blast to the hip, splitting my arms. Losing an arm.”
[NORMAN finishes pointedly. SANDERSON clears his throat awkwardly. After a moment, NORMAN continues.]
N: “So I powered through it. I got home from a particularly stressful day at work, started opening the mail … And that’s all I remember. Hieu said he found me unresponsive on the kitchen floor. Rêu assumed control of my life until I recovered enough to- to, get back in the driver’s seat, so to speak. He spent a few days in the hospital, and then Hieu brought us home. I don’t recall any of it. It was like I’d just disappeared. Gives me the existential creeps, to be honest.”
S: “I’m getting goosebumps myself! How on Earth did you even have a heart attack to begin with? I was under the impression hosting the Ankhanum made one immune to such quirks of our biology.”
N: “Apparently not. I’m an anxious person, so maybe he was so used to our heart working hard he never noticed how hard. Could be we were both worn out after everything that happened. ... You remember the creature we saw in the basement of Hassen Communications?”
S: “As if anyone could forget a centipede the size of a cruise ship.”
N: “Is that what it looked like to you?”
[NORMAN’S tone is almost stony.]
S: “Er. Well, now I’m not so sure.”
[Silence. After a moment, NORMAN giggles.]
N: “I’m kidding. It could very well be. For as long as I can remember, though, I’ve thought of Rêu as a dragon. Fierce as he can be, he’s always kept me safe.”
[It’s NORMAN’S turn to clear his throat. He sounds a little embarrassed.]
N: “I better get going. I have a date this evening, and I’d hate to raincheck our husband again.”
[HIEU PHAN laughs in the background.]
HIEU: “Which one?!”
S: “Oh! Yes. Do excuse me.” [Clears his throat.] “Thus concludes my interview with Mr. Nguyen. This is Dr. Herbert Sanderson, signing off.”
[Recording ends.]
Red finished listening with a heavy KER-CHUNK of the STOP button. He tapped the recorder against his pursed lips, deep in thought.
“I know little of this Rêu, but I wish for an opportunity to speak with him myself someday,” he said.
“You don’t know him? Weren’t you all part of the same guy once?” Betsy asked.
Red’s eyes flickered over to her.
“And Norman is also a human. Did you know him before all this?” he asked dryly.
Betsy clenched her teeth. “Lose the smartassery, or I’m smackin’ you.”
Red smirked, but lose it he did.
“To ‘be serious’, we developed all over this world after were broken apart,” he said. “I know him as well as you’d know a stranger in the street.”
He relinquished the recorder, turning his attention back to the book. On closer inspection, he found it’d been carefully bound by hand, slabs of dyed leather sandwiching its contents. Red cracked it open, and got to reading.
Betsy tried hard to mind her own business, poking absently at the edge of the fire with her empty skewer, her roasted veggies long since eaten. But curiosity was winning out, and she craned her head backwards, trying to peer at his progress. She met his eyes instead, crinkled with amusement.
“That’s terrible for your neck,” he said. “You’re welcome to read with me, you know.”
Betsy looked away, scraping at the fire harder. “I already read it.”
“And there’s nothing you have your infamous questions about?” he asked.
Betsy plucked a pebble from the ground and flung it at him. Red shielded himself from the diminutive onslaught with the book, hiding his grin in the process. She laid back with him, grinning also.
“I’ve got questions if you’re not an ass about ‘em,” she said.
“Duly noted,” he said. “Shall we get started?”
THE ANKHANUM HANDBOOK
Dr. Herbert W. Sanderson
Featuring Contributions from Minh “Norman” Nguyen,
“The Entities of Camp 12”, and Others
Afterword by Betsy Winters
FOREWORD
I am Dr. Herbert Sanderson, and in November of 1998, I encountered a most extraordinary lifeform: the Ankhanum. It is a sapient virus, living alongside, and inside of, us since ancient times.
While my field of expertise lies in more traditional wildlife research, I’ve been compiling my findings on the Ankhanum through verbal testimony and hands-on experience. Additionally I’ve been assisted in this endeavor by my colleague Ms. Betsy Winters, and mutual associates.
“If they’ve lived with humans since their dawn, how have we not encountered them before?!” you may be asking. “This is nothing but hogwash fueled by cryptid sightings!”
To which I ask: are there not new species discovered to this day? Unseen insects thrive in caves we have no access to. Against all odds organisms crawl under pressure in the deepest trenches of the ocean. The Ankhanum, too, hide in plain sight. When they aren’t living within us, they shapeshift to blend in as seamlessly as possible. How much ancient folklore has alluded to the Ankhanum? How many ‘demons’ and ‘cryptids’ have been the Ankhanum?
And who could even say for sure?
Without further ado, I bring but a piece of the Ankhanum to you.
WHAT ARE THE ANKHANUM?
At their simplest, the Ankhanum are a conglomerate of sapient viral cells created by Arksonne, a member of a species I’ve taken to calling the Godkind. While their true origins are lost to time, it’s been suggested the Godkind tampered with their bodies until they overcame death, becoming in effect immortal by rapidly shedding and regenerating damaged or aging cells.
They reigned over time and space for untold eons, and one known as Arksonne, for reasons that are not well understood to this day, unleashed the Ankhanum onto their people at the expense of their own life.
Once exposed to the virus, the Godkinds’ cells break down faster than they’re able to regenerate. The infected simply melt. These pools of remains were biohazardous, and were gathered up and disposed of via star lest the virus spread.
The Godkind would devise methods of combating it: further evolution, experimental cures, etc., to no avail. The infection, ultimately fatal, ran rampant, dwindling their numbers to near extinction.
The virus’ reign of terror came to an unceremonious end, according to one of the Ankhanum: “We were torn apart and abandoned here by ‘our people’.”
Left on a barren asteroid, it appeared to be over for the Ankhanum.
“Then life bloomed on [what would become] Earth.”
In time, the cells bled into water sources and crept onto land, where they’d make contact with mortal lifeforms. They were unaffected by its deadly properties, and the first entities would discover a remarkable compatibility with mankind in particular…
HUMAN-ANKHANUM SYMBIOSIS
Vectors of Transmission
Exposure occurs when the blood of the Ankhanum enter another organism’s bloodstream, whether through open wounds, injection or the consumption of contaminated meat. Ingestion has proved effective in transmitting the virus, as the Ankhanum have evolved to resist gastric acid. The first layers of skin, hair, bodily fluids and other byproducts are purely cosmetic. Contact with the saliva of the infected won’t result in exposure, for example.
Freshly spilled Ankhanum blood may chase nearby organisms, whether they’re infected or not. When it dries on a surface, it changes in curious ways: becoming moss-like, sap-like, or even mold-like, the spores of which can lead to exposure through inhalation.
The Ankhanum prefer warm-blooded hosts. They’ve been found in the cold-blooded, though infection makes them sluggish. I theorize this is intentional, making them more easily preyed on by the warm-blooded. When occupying flora, they secrete substances mammals find appealing. The red sap of the trees the Ruby Tears National Forest is known for were frequently visited by grazing wildlife.
God only knows how much of the animal populace in the region was infected!
While the Ankhanum can live outside of hosts, as is the case with entities, hosting is beneficial for both parties. In exchange for shelter and sustenance, hosts are inoculated against ‘divine intervention’ – as in, the Godkind are unable to mutate lifeforms carrying the virus.
Note that this does not protect these lifeforms from physical and psychological violence at the hands of the Godkind unless the hosting organism is infected enough to defend itself.
Onset & Symptoms
With infection comes symptoms; immediately after it took hold, my appetite was reduced. Nausea came and went in waves, and in the pit of my stomach was a boiling sensation.
Truth be told, I’d thought I was having a particularly bad case of heartburn.
My appetite returned in full force the next day, becoming this insatiable, gnawing. hunger. I craved meat, its run-off, and NOTHING I ate filled me, no matter how MUCH I ate. And to my everlasting frustration, everything reeked of the entity we’d captured at Camp 12. I couldn’t get away from it! That metallic, cloying odor.
It worsened after Dr. Reeves’ wholly untimely demise. Holed up in my quarters, I underwent physical changes I’ve come to associate with the third stage of infection. With them came behavioral changes: my aggression went through the roof, and I lashed at the slightest provocation, hunting down the source of any, ALL traces of blood engaging in hunting behaviors when the smell of open wounds graced my nostrils no that sounds WORSE hunted instinctively.
As time’s gone on I’ve calmed, settling into my new normal alongside my most ‘animalistic’ me. While I must keep it in check, I find it freeing; I’ve not changed as a person as much as I’ve shed my inhibitions.
Not completely. I’m a polite man by nature, you see.
What I’ve experienced is not the only way symptoms manifest, however. Other hosts report significant growth, changes in vision, individuality in their own personal parasite, and so on.
Carriers
Carriers are otherwise regular human beings carrying the virus, and results from the slightest exposure (ex. an open cut brushing against molded Ankhanum blood).
At this stage the altered cells are few enough in number to have little effect on the host. Rarely is the Ankhanum within capable of ‘individuality’, not unlike the bacteria & microorganisms living on and in our bodies already.
Interestingly, there’s virtually no advancement of infection in carriers unless further exposed, which leads me to wonder if humans developed a degree of immunity to the Ankhanum over the millennia.
he only notable change carriers undergo is an increase in blood pressure and viscosity. This can prove fatal if the individual is at risk of stroke or heart disease.
Carriers also appear unable to tap into the abilities unique to the Ankhanum, putting them at a disadvantage against the more advanced infected, or the Godkind themselves.
Hosts
Further exposure naturally means a higher concentration of altered cells in the body, and it is at this point significant physical changes begin to occur. For all intents and purposes, assume further mention of ‘hosts’ refers to this specific level of infection.
While their outward appearance generally remains unchanged, the blood pressure of a host increases, along with the viscosity of the blood (it’s for this reason that I urge all infected to monitor their heart health!), the sclera of the eyes redden more frequently due to burst blood vessels, and the body will become more flexible. Senses grow keener. Overall body temperature goes up, as does the host’s sensitivity to colder climates. Appetite and caloric intake hikes as the need for energy increases.
The Ankhanum now attempts to protect its host from harm, and repair wounds by redistributing extraneous healthy mass to damaged regions of the body. Over time, it may develop a sense of self.
Symbiotes
Ankhanum symbiotes are relatively rare, as getting to this level requires nothing less than the consumption of a high volume of infected cells. As I am currently my only reference point for this stage of infection, I will be mainly discussing my own physical changes.
I took on more traits of the Ankhanum: my teeth sharpened, my body changes with ease now, and my eyes took on that oh-so characteristic ‘red-ringed’ appearance.
I’d been losing my hair at a steady clip since I was in my thirties, only for most of it to grow back. My hairline has never looked better! Later, my brows thickened, extruding from my brow ridge. It appears they now act as additional sensory appendages, as they are, in actuality, mutated antennae.
I can certainly say I’ve never been able to detect changes in air pressure with my eyebrows before now, but it’s welcome nonetheless. I know when to carry an umbrella, no matter what the meteorologist says.
The skin of a symbiote can become translucent enough for the muscular system to be visible; think of an anatomical model. This particular trait, however, depends on the amount of melanin in the skin, and may not display at all.
Entities
Entities form directly from discarded masses of infected cells, or develop out of severely infected organisms that have lost their sense of self to the point they believe themselves to be indistinguishable from the Ankhanum. Entities have been observed ‘dividing’, as well, creating copies with distinct personalities.
I’ve only encountered a few at time of writing: ‘Clive’ and ‘Vermeil’. These entities emerged from the remains of a bear my colleague Betsy gutted at Camp 12, and they seemed to have an intrinsic knowledge of their intended purpose to kill the Godkind. Entities will attempt to carry out their purpose, come Hell, high water, or death, and these ones did.
This intrigues me as I have no such urge, nor does our acquaintance Mr. Nguyen.
Are there strains of Ankhanum that are more ‘domesticated’ than others? Though I admit this idea holds no water when I consider my strain came directly from Camp 12’s entities.
Are hosted Ankhanum meant to fulfill a different purpose...?
Lifespan
The lifespan of the Ankhanum is difficult to quantify. Carrier lifespans remain standard for the species, though proper hosts live longer. The longevity of hosts then differs from symbiotes, which differs from entities.
Our associate Mr. Nguyen is in his fifties now, yet he looks remarkably youthful. With the exception of his heart attack, the ailments of time passed him by. No unintentionally creaking joints, no arthritis, few wrinkles. I, too, am reaping the benefits of ‘Ankhanumhood’; I haven’t felt this agile since I was a child! But how, and if, infection will extend my lifespan remains to be seen, as I’ve already died.
Several times, in fact.
When death occurs in a sufficiently infected host, it springs back to life! And the experience was quite disconcerting. I saw no ‘light at the end of the tunnel’, no ‘life flashing before my eyes’. Rather, anesthetization.
Consciousness, nearly uninterrupted. Though time undoubtedly passed, I’d see darkness for but a second. Candlelight; snuffed out, ever so briefly, flickering to life again.
The mechanism that enables revival, and why, eludes me. Will this dance with death continue until the Godkind no longer remain? There are ways, however, to guarantee hosts and entities alike stay down. More on that later.
Death of the Host
Hopelessly intertwined, the Ankhanum remain in a host’s body until death. When the host dies, the Ankhanum consumes the body. If intending to bury or cremate, these proceedings must be expedited, or there will be nothing left but liquefied remains.
If a host dies in the wilderness, scavengers are next to host the virus. If they cannot access the remains, the Ankhanum cells decompose, bringing their time to an end as well. Wasteful, if you ask me. I’d certainly help myself if it didn’t feel a tad disrespectful.
I wonder if there’s been cases of Ankhanum-infected bodies digging out of graves. Have there been furious attempts to escape cremation machines or funeral pyres to escape the flames?! Yet another promising avenue of hearsay to look into!
PHYSIOLOGY & ABILITIES
Shapeshifting
The Ankhanum are shapeshifters. Their imagination is the limit: they can morph into animals, imitate human beings, or take new shapes entirely. They manipulate their mass and innerworkings with ease, ex. shedding flesh to take a smaller form, adapting their sensory receptors to see or hear better, and so on. It appears the ability to shapeshift was not one they were ‘born’ with – it was evolved once they encountered life on Earth.
Their ‘rapid healing’ is in actuality the shifting of mass to fill in wounds, and regrow/reattach missing limbs. The more severe the damage, the more mass required for repair. It is easiest to acquire more mass by consumption, whether this entails the eating of food, or merging with other Ankhanum.
With our sciences more advanced than ever, one may wonder how the Ankhanum and their hosts evade detection in medical settings. Under a microscope Ankhanum-assimilated cells are indistinguishable from those of the host, able to blend in on a celluar level. I’ve not been able to get close enough to an entity to determine if this is true for them as well.
All this in mind, I believe there to be untapped potential for the Ankhanum as a medical treatment. Not only do they attack ‘intruders’ such as viruses and harmful bacteria in their hosts, with their regenerative capabilities, I can see it now: regrow lost limbs, bounce back from grave injury, eliminate harmful viruses, extend the lifespan of humans the world over! The possibilities are endless!
Muscoskeletal Control
The entities at Camp 12 demonstrated a curious ability to manipulate the bodies of the lesser infected, making them move as they wished.
I witnessed this myself at Camp 12 when the entities controlled the bodies of my colleagues, forcing Dr. Reeves to attack me, and later, the others to drop their weapons. Proximity matters more than method. Sound, eye contact, touch can all compel the cells within nearby carriers to action.
When I attempted it, carriers certainly did what I wanted, though it was short-lived. The entity’s control over them was so complete that breaking his own wrists broke theirs as well. It was absolutely fascinating to witness.
My hypothesis as to what enables this: not unlike the cordyceps fungus, altered cells in the controlled’s muscles respond instinctively to the call of another, greater form of Ankhanum.
As this only effected carriers, the least infected, I wager the more infected a host is, the more an ‘individual’ the Ankhanum within is, and the greater its ability to resist this control is.
Diet
Originally, the Ankhanum were obligate carnivores. Though they’ve adapted to an omnivorous diet, meat is more easily incorporated into their mass than the fiber and carbohydrates found in plants.
The Ankhanum use virtually everything they consume, as well – the entities living with Betsy only used the bathroom for hygiene purposes. Urination and defecation is also reduced in human hosts, as I’ve personally discovered.
Now, Ankhanum meat.
Their blood has a distinct odor. Often it can be the only indicators an organism is hosting the virus. Though it wrinkles the nose, it’s almost sweet, if a little musty. Their meat is similarly so, even when shapeshifted. Consuming an infected organism creates a melding of flavors that depends on what the host ate. I tore into our mutual associate Mr. Nguyen on a prior occasion. Being that he’s more infected than my late colleague and good friend Dr. Reeves, I noted an aftertaste. Wonderfully savory, but beneath it, something almost like ozone.
Ankhanum meat would pair beautifully with a red wine, in my humble opinion. Fatty, but not enough to offset its smooth, rippling texture. It’s really not unlike wagyu.
With their regenerative capabilities, I wonder if the Ankhanum could become a sustainable food source. Or, perhaps there is a future in plastic reduction by feeding it to them…
Habitat
The Ankhanum are scarcer in colder climates. The closer you get to any given Pole, the more common they are in warm-blooded, furred animals. This is due to a notable vulnerability to the cold; while they won’t outright freeze to death, sustained cold temperatures slow them to the point they go dormant. This may have been the starting point for ancient Ankhanum and their fixation on Earthlings.
The Ankhanum cluster closer to the equator, and are especially fond of humid regions. Like oiling a machine, more moisture in the air makes changing shape a smoother process. The Ankhanum seek refuge in plants, as well, with spilt blood and infected remains decomposing in the soil being the main vector of transmission here.
Even hosted, they will not get the nutrients they need from photosynthesis alone. The saccharine odor of their byproducts lures animals and insects in, making for easy meals. In turn, what they didn’t eat that eats from them would be next to host the virus, which would be eaten by larger animals, and so on.
Despite the cooler climate in the region, the Ruby Tears National Forest was a hotbed of Ankhanum-infested flora, with its name coming from towering trees oozing red “sap”. The local wildlife was constantly eating from them. Red moss carpeted the area, bushes regularly snatched curious prey… The true scope of how infected those woods were is a mystery to me. I hope to return to the Ruby Tears and continue my research there someday.
Reproduction
The Ankhanum do not reproduce by traditional means. They are sterile, and have no need for primary sex characteristics (though they can have whatever genital configuration they or partners prefer).
Hosting organisms also trend toward sterility, but the fewer altered cells in a host’s body, the higher the likelihood they may still be able to yield offspring. Said offspring will not carry the virus, as it cannot be passed on genetically.
Widespread as they’ve become, there’s hardly a risk of Earth being overrun by the Ankhanum; if all living things become sterile, they will, in time, die out. There will be nothing left to become part of, nothing left to feed on. This is not considered ideal by the Ankhanum, as the energy and mass required to support them at their true scale is far more than the Earth’s population can support.
Tangentially related, by default the Ankhanum lack our social concepts of gender and orientation. Those that live closely with/in humans, however, often do have distinct gender identities and preferences in partners. (ex. Despite having a masculine presentation, ‘Clive’, when asked, rather staunchly declared, “I am not a man.” Due to ongoing hostilities between us, I did not press further.)
The “All-khanum”
The original form the Ankhanum took is that of a massive, lengthy creature described as ‘red-scaled’ and ‘many-limbed’. This has lead to varying interpretations, even among their own kind.
To revisit a few subjects; symbiotes and entities and their ability to control the bodies of carriers raise questions for me. Are the larger instances of the Ankhanum, like the creature we saw in the depths of Hassen Communications, able to control entities? And what sort of connection is this? It isn’t telepathic – merely thinking a command does nothing. Is it hormonally enabled? Chemically? The Ankhanum only seem to glean information ‘telepathically’ if they’ve merged together.
While they remain the individuals they once were, they are undeniably changed. They were stricken with a similar euphoria to mine when I’d embraced my new self, their memories foggy, many unable to recall where they’d been or what had happened in the months between infection and their homecoming. Consistent also were reports of strange lights, buzzing and “sleeping somewhere hot and sticky”.
I will not rule out that these memory gaps could be attributed to trauma resulting from Eleanor Hassen’s experimentation. But I wonder, independently of that – when the Ankhanum merge, they are one, sharing information in the realm of consciousness until they split apart.
When they consume a lifeform’s brain, do they gain its memories? Its life experiences?
How much of them remains them?
Wherever the creature’s gone, it carries pieces of the survivors with it. Of that I have little doubt.
”AN”-CULTURE
Title & Tongue
In the Godkind’s culture, a name is a two syllable title indicating an individual’s role in society. Anzr (On-zur) was the original title given to the Ankhanum by their maker, meaning ‘red end’ – end, as in death. They would later take on the three syllable title we are familiar with: Ankhanum (lit. The Red Rot).
Three syllable titles were a sign of reverence when assigned by others in their society; an example being a figure titled Unelvar, which contextually appears to be a deified figure to even the Godkind. When such a title is assigned by oneself, it considered arrogant, a mockery of the custom.
The color red bore significance to the Godkind as the color of ‘lesser’ beings with its prevalence in their rotting bodies. Adorning oneself in red was associating with ‘vermin’. The Ankhanum embodying it seems deliberate on the part of their maker, a reminder to the Godkind that death comes for us all. The Ankhanum truly spat in the eye of the Godkind at any given opportunity.
One of the entities of Camp 12 used speech patterns consistent with a ‘dialect’ evolved from the Godkind’s native language. He’d refer to himself as “this one”, and occasionally to the entity that called himself Clive as “that one”, instead of “you”. When referring to the both of them, or his species in general, he’d use “these ones”.
When speaking to someone directly, he’d use the person’s name at times it’d be considered ‘odd’ to do so, at least in English. This leads me to believe addressing another by their title was the most customary way to do so in lieu of pronouns. Interestingly, ‘Clive’ didn’t speak this way; though he carried the same unidentifiable accent as the other, his speech was more modern.
During my travels, I’ve come across a host more familiar with the Godkind’s language, including the original terms. Or and er measured lifespan, with pir indicating both the self, and the Godkind as a species. The Godkind referred to themselves as Orpir (“Endless One”), while er is mortal. From these, we get erpir (“temporary one”): a mortal lifeform effected by divine intervention. I’ve taken to calling the latter “Godlike”, and they are more common than I knew.
To reiterate:
- pir: “one”. A noun indicating the self. Pir was used exclusively for the Godkind and those with adjacent power.
- Orpir: “Endless One”. The Godkind’s name for themselves.
- er: “temporary”. A mortal.
- erpir: “temporary one”. Mortals affected by divine intervention”. Due to their psuedo-divinity, they are designated as pir.
Relevant to the Ankhanum and their creator:
- ar: “fate” (?). A curious measurement of lifespan in that it has no definite measurement.
- ksonne: “defier”.
- an: “red”, as in the color.
- anpir: “red one”. Used by the Godkind. Refers to the Ankhanum.
- Anni: “Little Red”. A derogatory term used by the Ankhanum for ‘new’ Ankhanum. It carries a connotation of inexperience.
- kha: “body”.
- num: “decay”. Used in conjunction with kha means decomposition of the body, specifically.
- zr: “end”. Death, and an apt note on which to end this list.
The Religion of The Red
The Ankhanum have variable spiritual beliefs, with some practicing human religions, or following cultural customs of the regions they originated from.
But that isn’t the focus of this section. This is about humans worshipping the Ankhanum, celebrating them as deities. Of death, naturally, in reaper-like fashion, but too as deities of ‘balance’, maintaining the cycles of life.
In a fringe group I’ve come across though, the Ankhanum are worshipped more proactively. Many individuals in this group are not infected with the Red Rot, yet they seek to infect outsiders. They do so to mass-inoculate against the ‘divine intervention’. Seems they believe themselves ‘messengers’ of sorts, spreading the good word for the benefit of humanity. Those within the group who do become infected gain social status for it, being allowed to oversee group operations.
With the care the Ankhanum take to not become widespread, I believe these people worship the Ankhanum conceptually rather than realistically. I have to wonder how they regard entities. Do they have potential to be leaders? Is there a leader? Surely there’s someone guiding them to do what they do. What on Earth do they gain from it...? Is it all a sham, in exchange for control and sustenance?
Until I can conduct further research, I have few answers to a plethora of questions. As much as I adored the recognition within their compounds, I believe myself woefully unfit for a leadership position. Nor do I have much interest in practicing their beliefs; I remain a devout Christian to this day.
Cooperation and Organization
As living together too closely presents a danger with the Godkind roaming the Earth, ‘communities’ of Ankhanum are sparse, and hosts are spread out across the globe.
While I’d gotten the impression from the entities of Camp 12 interspecies violence was innate, it’s on the rarer side. Overwhelmingly the Ankhanum attack each other for pleasure, or if their hosts are opposing one another.
The Ankhanum are not typically territorial, for that matter. They have little interest in the acquisition of wealth or land, so while they can become defensive over food sources, they tend toward working together, and may merge into one. No reason to fight over food if there’s only your mouth to feed.
Their social capacity as a species seems a result of them having been a singular being once upon a time and their evolved desire for mutually beneficial hosts. Some Ankhanum are more sociable than others; those who’ve lived with humankind over many generations’ worth of hosts typically enjoy partnering with humans. Then there are Ankhanum who prefer their own company, or live silently in their hosts until death.
The entities of Camp 12 had little regard for the humans and hosted Ankhanum around them. The two were quite willing to attack each other and devour hosts should they pose a threat to a particular human they’d become possessive of, due to her feeding and freeing them. The give-and-take factor of their relationship with Betsy Winters did not go unnoticed. Metaphorically, she hosted them. While in her home, she provided them with sustenance and shelter, and in return, they protected her and hers and assisted with day-to-day maintenance.
In more advanced stages of infection, the Ankhanum in a host may present with a distinct personality, the culmination of the cells’ experiences, written into what they are composed of, not unlike DNA or our genes. From there, bonds can form between host and hosted, and range the spectrum from friendly, to romantic, to sexual, or remain strictly transactional.
These relationships can also become mutually antagonistic. The Ankhanum attempting to take over their host via deliberate removal of the head is not unheard of.
Personally I’ve never considered the Ankhanum within me separate from myself, leading me to believe a fusion of host and Ankhanum has occurred in my case.
Regardless of a sufficiently infected host’s connection to their Ankhanum, it will attempt to protect them from danger. This can complicate their efforts to hide themselves. Should they reveal themselves, host and hosted could be killed, or they can be coerced to stand down in a hostile situation for that reason.
With human hosts & companions come prior connections such as family. As they are not an offspring-producing species, the Ankhanum have no parental instincts, and no concept of bloodlines or ancestry. Yet the entities Betsy Winters and I knew were civil toward her mother and child, seeming to take cues on how to interact with her family from Betsy’s expectations of them, and her own bonds with said mother and child.
How much of it was ‘genuine’ matters little in the face of them treating those Betsy cared for with kindness. All in all, a vast improvement over the Ankhanum of ancient times; I’ve heard one too many gruesome tales of them eating human infants.
Personal Grooming
The Ankhanum groom their brows and limbs after meals. The extremities are carefully washed, and any tangled hair is discarded, the latter resulting in sightings of ‘massive hunks of hair’ or ‘just someone’s fucking scalp’ in areas they inhabit.
These byproducts can be collected! They have no special properties if no flesh is present, however. If Ankhanum flesh is found, keep in mind that it will rapidly decompose itself, assuming it doesn’t try to escape or get to you first.
Care for the teeth in their main mouth has also been observed despite the ability to regenerate them. Preventative maintenance is less resource intensive, as it requires mass to get back what’s lost or damaged.
In hosts, these rituals present as an increase in one caring for themself.
Taking cues from mankind, they may style or decorate their hair, brows and/or antlers, as they perform a social function in addition to the practical. They do this to convey anything from danger (gore upon the antlers), to power (further gore adorning the body, thefted jewelry), attractiveness, and so on.
Their success in attracting partners outside of other Ankhanum is uncertain, but I suppose everything has its niche.
The Art of Body Modification
The Ankhanum are admirers of the artistry and cultures of humans. Many of their own practices were inspired by ours, especially the macabre.
Naturally they may paint, sculpt, or collect art (I’ve heard of an entity that became a prominent art collector - while she isn’t an artist herself, she considers her ‘hoard’ an expression of art in itself!), but using their bodies as a canvas is the the most standout example.
This takes forms we’re familiar with: tattoos, piercings, scarification, and body paint. The Ankhanum enjoy taking things to the next level, however, performing feats humans ordinarily couldn’t without injury or death.
Some artfully recreate wounds they’ve received, allowing them to remain open and become host to breeding insects. Others build with their own flesh and bones (ossuaries are of particular interest to them), wear their skins as garments, cook and consume inedible dishes and open themselves up to see the results of attempted digestion, or maybe they’ll merge with creatures or inanimate objects of significance to them.
Mr. Nguyen’s internal partner implied permanence is unimportant to the Ankhanum. So far there is little to be found as far as ruins or relics go, certainly none that could be attributed solely to the Ankhanum. But perhaps a cultural shift is occurring; I’ve been made aware some Ankhanum are carefully preserving parts they’ve lost for display, as a testament to what they’ve survived…
On War, Weaponry and The Hunt
Naturally, the Ankhanum don’t only utilize their abilities for art or connection. They were designed to kill, first and foremost. We’re already familiar with the virus’ deadly effects on the Godkind; the Red Rot infects mortals, but cannot kill them on its own.
This has made the Ankhanum creative in the face of danger.
An Ankhanum’s weapon of choice is born of instinct – I favored ‘animalistic’ traits of tails and teeth, while Mr. Nguyen fashions his very bones into thrusting blades. United, the entities of Camp 12 used brute force, splintering limbs, and throwing grown men and women with ease.
While traveling, I’ve often come across this symbol:
A host who requested her name be omitted from this document informed me it represents an ancient weapon of the Ankhanum, a three-pronged fork with barbed tips, the haft of which twists around itself in a manner resembling the structure of DNA. Her theory was the ancient Ankhanum became enamored with pole-arms when they came into popularity, with the shapes they took reminding them of their own features.
As much as the Ankhanum are inspired by the arts and science of humankind, they’ve also been by turbulence in our history; they are enthusiastic about torture methods, fascinated by our medical mysteries and treatments, and well-versed in wartime, indicating a number of the Ankhanum I’ve encountered are quite a lot older than they let on.
Hunting is also well-loved by the Ankhanum. They enjoy hobbies, professions and even family life outside of their purpose, but many will drop everything for the sake of hunting, and hunting the Godkind and their ilk is immensely satisfying for them, even at the cost of their lives.
Naturally, even animal hunting seasons around the world are popular with the Ankhanum, and they are certain nothing goes to waste. However, there have been rumors of hunters going missing under strange circumstances in these areas, or returning from trips behaving differently.
That aside, due to their ongoing war with the remnants of the Godkind and butting heads with fearful humans, the Ankhanum have experienced periods of near extinction, seeming to die out or disappear. Yet against all odds, the Ankhanum continue to persist. This fluctuation in their population could be the cause of an almost fabled status in human history, with folktales and urban legends telling of similar creatures.
The Charon of the Godkind
The ancient conflict between the Godkind and the Ankhanum was sparked by Arksonne’s desire to eliminate their own kind. But, what if things had been different? What if the Godkind embraced their “Hades”, their “Charon”?
If immortality was losing its appeal, Anzr could have ushered them to nonexistence, metaphorically ferrying them into the eternal night on a crimson river. The imagery is almost romantic!
Many Ankhanum I’ve encountered are fearless in the face of the death. Some, apathetic. Of course, humans demonstrate varying opinions of it as well, but a lack of concern with killing others, or what comes after, or the impact of their own deaths is especially prominent in the Ankhanum.
Death is the great equalizer. It comes for us all, and is meant to come for us all: the most insignificant gnat, the brightest star, the universe itself, the ones they coexist with, the long-lived that bring the short-lived to their knees.
To the Ankhanum, death is not only inevitable.
Death is the goal.
KILLING THE ANKHANUM
Despite being neither immortal nor indestructible, the Ankhanum have persisted with roach-like tenacity over the millennia. Much as I admire our perseverance, there are ways to exterminate them.
Carriers can be killed in any manner the uninfected can, though repeated blunt force trauma to the head is considered most effective. More infected hosts tend to bounce back from lethal injuries and require more extreme measures.
Burning them at high temperatures for long enough will suffice. If a volcano is somehow conveniently on hand, I’d imagine lava does the trick far more quickly.
We also have acids: while the Ankhanum have evolved to resist gastric acid, this resistance does not guarantee survival of the cells, and I’ve found hydrochloric acid quite effective in ‘cleaning up’ their byproducts. Submerging a hosting organism in battery acid, or offering them a long soak in a thermal pool is likely to offer best results.
Starving the Ankhanum is choosing to play the long game. With nothing to provide mass, they will waste away. Though cruel, complete and indefinite imprisonment is key to this method.
If you’ve the time to play an even longer game, the Ankhanum become sluggish in sustained cold temperatures and will go dormant. Smash and litter the pieces under the permafrost and pray to whatever God you believe in they’ll stay frozen long enough for the cells to die.
With its freezing temperatures and lack of oxygen, ejecting them into space may have a similar effect, though I’m unaware of the effects of oxygen deprivation on the Ankhanum at this time. If suffocated, they create alternative airways. If underwater, they grow gills. This makes it difficult to observe as the ideal conditions in which to do so are, in a word, unethical.
Woefully unexplored is the effects of ionizing radiation on the Ankhanum – I visited a region in the midwest subjected to fallout. Even with protective gear on, the further in I went the more my body resisted, so fiercely I felt as if I were being pulled out of there by hundreds, thousands of hooks, to the point I feared I’d be torn apart! It took days to feel like myself again.
Radiation does something to Ankhanum cells I’m unable to explore further at this time, and I have to wonder if even entities are scarce in these areas. Perhaps the most efficient way to vaporize them would be a nuclear bomb! At, uh, the cost of every other lifeform in the vicinity.
Following up on an earlier point, the importance of a host’s head cannot be understated. Its absence – rather, the absence of the brain – halts the revival process. However, the more infected the host, the higher the likelihood it will regrow the head if the mass is available.
Finally, exploding the Ankhanum is not recommended. You are going to, to quote my colleague Betsy Winters, “get that shit everywhere”. Facilitating their being crushed by the pressure of the deep ocean will also “get that shit everywhere. Don’t do it.”
”ZR”
And so we reach zr, the metaphorical end of this work.
While I’ve left the afterword to my colleague Betsy Winters, here is my conclusion: how does one even end a work such as this, when there’s so much more to learn? It’s arrogance to assume there’s nothing more to discover in this world, and the Ankhanum are no exception.
Our expedition into the Ruby Tears National Forest and what found us there there changed everything: those around me, my good friends, myself. I am not the same man I was before in more ways than one, and I embarked on these travels to learn more about the Ankhanum and unravel what it is I’ve become.
I must say, I could not be more thrilled about the answers so far!
To my fellow Ankhanum, this has been your host,
GLOSSARY
Ankhanumlit. “Red Rot”. A species comprised of sentient viral cells, created by a being called Arksonne.
Anzr
lit. “Red End”. The original title of the Ankhanum as given by their creator. This title was abandoned in favor of exalting themselves with the three-syllable title Ankhanum.
Arksonne
lit. “Fate Defier”. The creator of the Ankhanum. The Ankhanum themselves remember little of Arksonne, and testimonials of Arksonne’s character have yet to be obtained from the Godkind.
(Ankhanum) Carriers
The first stage of Ankhanum infection. While some physical changes are noted, carriers are unable to perform feats greater levels of infection provide such as shapeshifting. They are especially vulnerable to greater forms of Ankhanum assuming control over their bodies.
‘divine intervention’
The process in which the Godkind imbue mortal with slivers of their power.
Eleanor Hassen
The late CEO of Hassen Communications, taken over by one of the Godkind. See also “Tehhaz”.
(Ankhanum) Entity
Less a stage of infection and more of a ‘being’. Entities form from discarded masses of infected cells or develop out of severely infected organisms that have lost their sense of self. Entities can ‘divide’, creating copies with distinct personalities.
Godkind
Theorized to have once been an ordinary planet-dwelling species, scientific advancement allowed them to tamper with their bodies until they overcame death itself.
Godlike
Mortals that have gone through the process of ‘divine intervention’.
(Ankhanum) Hosts
The second stage of Ankhanum infection. Hosts reap the benefits of infection, though they may continue to be at risk of human afflictions. The Ankhanum within hosts may develop distinct personalities over time, such as Mr. Nguyen’s “Rêu”.
(Ankhanum) Symbiotes
The third stage of Ankhanum infection. More Ankhanum than not at this point, symbiotes wield their Ankhanum abilities with ease and may begin to physically resemble them. Identity death is a looming threat in a symbiote, potentially leading to the creation of an entity.
Tehhaz
See also “Eleanor Hassen”. The Godkind taking up residence in Eleanor Hassen’s corpse. Her dominion was over sound. She was able to listen in on others when parts of her were in their presence, emit ear-splitting tones, and generate ground-shaking tremors the closer one was to her real body. Tehhaz employed a more hands-on method of controlling hosts by infesting them, as opposed to ‘sharing’ her powers with them (see ‘divine intervention’).
Unelvar
lit. “Essence of All”. A being of presumably religious significance to the Godkind, as indicated by its three syllable title.
“zr”
lit. “End” (Death). A loaded concept in Godkind society, spoken of in hushed tones. The original title of the Ankhanum was Anzr, driving home its intended purpose.
Red turned to the final page, lingering on it for a time. At last, he closed the manuscript, and pat it almost lovingly.
“Sanderson put a lot of time and effort into this. I’m impressed!” he said.
He leaned forward, and for a moment Betsy thought he was reaching for their pile of kindling.
Instead Red tossed the handbook onto the fire.
FWOOSH.
It went up in flames. The comfortable haze Betsy had been in broke, and she blinked hard.
“Holy shit, Red,” she said. “That was months of work—”
He fixed her with a chilly gaze. “So what?”
Her mouth dropped open, surely to answer. Coming up with none, however, it snapped shut again. Red held a cigarette to the renewed fire. A delicate strand of smoke rose into the air, and he took a puff. He eyed her thoughtfully, gray clouds billowing from his nostrils.
“Don’t look so glum, chum. If Sanderson’s the genius he proclaims himself to be, he’s made copies,” he said.
A shred of burning paper fluttered out of the fire. Betsy scraped at it with the tip of her boot.
“Nah. I hope he hasn’t made copies,” she said. “I figure if y’all wanted people knowin’ this, it’d be known by now.”
“I’d have been more flattered had he not gone into extensive detail on murdering these ones,” said Red. His speech and jaw were stiff, teeth punching grooves into his cigarette.
They sat in a silence broken only by the crackling of the flames before them. Red finished his cigarette, tossing the butt of it as nonchalantly into the fire as he had Sanderson’s work. He drew up the zipper of his jacket with a shiver.
“The air is growing colder,” he said. “I’m ready to blow on outta here if you are.”
Betsy nodded. They doused the fire, reducing the handbook to soggy, blackened scraps. Making their way back to Red’s motorcycle, Betsy saw it: he was holding onto a piece of paper, its edge tattered. She leaned closer.
“Hey. What’d you keep?” she asked.
He tucked it into his pocket and flashed a cheeky grin.
“If you really wanna know, you’ll have to take it from me,” said Red.
Betsy gave him an up-and-down glance, rolling her shoulders. His eyes narrowed, grin widening. She was assessing her chances. When Betsy twitched, his hand darted out – and missed her wrist entirely, as she changed trajectory. She thumped him hard on the back, getting a grunt out of him. Her other hand dove into his pocket, and it was then he finally caught her. When their eyes met, she laughed heartily.
“I can’t beat your reflexes, but I can still surprise ya,” she said.
Red’s grin flattened into a smirk.
“Guess you win, then,” he said.
He released her, and she came away with her prize, the now very crumpled final page of the handbook. Betsy straightened it out best she could, her eyes scanning the increasingly familiar handwriting.
After a moment, Betsy asked, “You’re keeping the afterword I wrote? Why?”
Red’s smile became strange.
“A memento of our date tonight,” he said.
Betsy rose a brow – and snorted.
“You’re so weird,” she said.
She handed it back to him. Red folded the afterword with care, pocketing it once more. He mounted the bike, slid on his helmet, and offered his hand. Betsy took it. It pulsated in her palm, pleasantly warm against the encroaching chill. She got settled on the seat behind him, sliding on her own helmet.
“Ready?” Red asked, grinning sidelong at her.
“Yeah,” Betsy said, smiling back. “Let’s go home.”
Afterword
Herbert wanted me to write some kinda conclusion for this thing, so here I am. Gotta admit I wasn’t crazy about helping him with this ‘pet project’ of his, though. Especially that section on killing them, he has no fucking idea how horrible it was to
Really wanted me to write about the ‘entities’ and my time with them. “Get it off your chest! It’ll be good for you!” he said. Fuck that. I ain’t usin’ some field guide as a confessional.
And he’s got some nerve claiming he’s doing things the ‘right way this time’ when he’s still unconcerned with the harm he’s observing, that he’s sometimes causing, directly or otherwise. But I know Herbert. He’s not gonna stop til he gets beat within an inch of his life again.
No good can come of this ‘handbook’ anyway. Don’t know what making the public aware of the Ankhanum is supposed to accomplish when they’ve been quietly living alongside us for ages now, protecting us from those ‘Godkind’.
With the kind of power those bastards have, the Ankhanum lay low for a reason: they’re just as hunted.