There a flash of light, and he was falling through a blue sky with white clouds. Mountains appeared, oceans, forests! A hurricane wind buffeted his form with savage fury, as the world expanded, rushing ever closer. Suddenly, his lungs filled with air and at last he could scream, a raw wail of anguish and absolute terror that lasted forever. With pillow softness, he slammed into the ground and lay there breathing in the sweet earth slightly damp from a summer rain, tufts of grass tickling his face. Alive, he was alive!
Painfully standing, Silas found himself in a field of green grass under a blue sky dotted with white clouds overhead. But those colors were wrong. The sky was purple, slashed with orange fire. Wasn’t it? A low rock wall cut across a field, and a copse of trees stood guard to the west, stout protection against the coming storm. The nuke storm. Skydark, doomsday. Not his fault!
A town of old buildings was in the distance, a church tower bell ringing the time as a beautiful woman in a flowing dress floated toward him, her hair flowing in the wind. She was carrying a bouquet of flowers that died, withered and blossomed again in an endless cycle of death and rebirth. Not his fault!
“Why, there you are!” The woman laughed. “But I should introduce myself, my name is Tanner, Emily Tanner.”
Snarling in glee, Silas reached behind his back and drew a small automatic. “Excellent,” he cackled. Jacking the slide and leveling the weapon at her face, he pulled the trigger. The gun violently exploded, a fireball engulfing his hand as the weapon detonated blowing off his fingers.
Emily neither flinched nor frowned as Silas screamed from the pain, staring at the white bones protruding from the ruin of his arm, warm red blood pumping out of the shattered limb.
“My husband is Dr. Theophilus Tanner,” she continued, twirling the flowers like a lace umbrella on her shoulder. “Do you know my husband, by any chance?”
“Not my fault!” Silas shrieked, dropping to his knees and trying to staunch the flow of blood from the arm with his free hand. But the flesh was too slippery, and he couldn’t get a grip on the tattered rags of meat.
In the distance, a steam locomotive puffed along iron rails, gliding past the black doors of a redoubt, and nearby a child raced across the field, guiding a kite in the sky, the cloth tail dancing merrily. A small dog yipped and barked alongside the child, and Silas vaguely recognized the boy as himself. How could that be? Then a dark shape stepped between them, blotting out the golden sun.
“Hello, fool,” Doc snarled, slowly drawing a blade from the ebony shaft of his walking stick. The needle-sharp tip glistened in the bright sunlight, and it flashed forward.
Silas could only gasp as the steel slashed across his face, opening the flesh to the bone, his cheek peeling away and rivers of blood gushing forth. He tried to beg for mercy, but no words would come and the blade slashed across his throat, filling his lungs with choking blood. It slashed again, between his naked legs, his penis dropping to the soil. A black wave of ants boiled out of the soil, covering the twitching member and consuming the tender pink flesh.
Emily laughed gaily and threw flower petals as Doc began to dissect the scientist, his heart falling onto the ground, the gears and pendulums still connected by the major arteries, beating away to force the blood from his countless wounds.
Suddenly, the sky turned purple, and sheet lighting thundered as Doc peeled off more skin from Silas’s naked form, his beating organs splayed on the grass like offerings to some pagan god. The pain was beyond imagination, and the blood was everywhere, now inches deep across the entire field. Then Doc dropped the sword and drew a huge pistol. Silas begged for death, for release from the incredible agony. But Doc pointed the weapon away from Silas and fired, the muzzle-flash igniting the blood into a lake of flame. Tongues of fire filled his mouth and the open cavity of his chest. It crawled up his rectum and inside his belly until it bulged. The bugs swarmed over him, through the crackling flames, endless, eating his flesh, and Silas drew in a lungful of fire and insects as he was consumed alive…
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