Callsign: King II- Underworld

It might have once been human. The hairless body had the shape of a man—two arms, two legs, one head with the right number of eyes and other orifices, no tail—but that by itself meant little. If it—he—had been a man, perhaps driven into the heart of the Earth by madness, then somewhere along the way he had suffered grievous injury; the gaunt body was misshapen and twisted, as if every one of its extremities had been broken and then allowed to heal improperly.

The creature sat on its haunches, bent over and engaged in some task that completely held its attention. It raised its head, gazing at the strange shadows cast by the flickering flame of the warrior’s torch, but then immediately went back to what it was doing.

The man advanced, curious about the creature’s activity. He saw a foot, then its match…legs, small and pale…a supine child. One of the two missing girls. Was the creature feasting on the girl? While others would feel revolt and rage, the man felt only curiosity.

He stepped closer and drew back his club, in case the creature attacked, but the motion startled the creature. It scampered away, and before the man could catch it, the beast was hopping across the river. Its feet made hardly a splash, as if it was walking on the surface of the water, and a moment later, it stood on the far bank, hissing angrily at the trespasser.

The man inspected the child and saw right away that his assumption was incorrect. The child’s body hadn’t been gnawed on, but she had been killed and.... He stepped closer, looking at her head. The girl’s hair—all of it—was missing. She’d been scalped. But not recently. He could see by the condition of her body that she’d been dead for some time. The creature had not been eating her flesh, but rather had been tending to the remains. He saw now that the girl’s body rested on a bier of wood, as if in preparation for an offering…no, it was a raft.

Inspiration struck. I’ll call him the ferryman, and this will be the river, Styx—the path to Hades. He’d conjured tales of Hades long ago, basing the hellish place on stories from older religions. But details like this, based on fact, would help reinforce mankind’s fear of the Underworld.

The man relaxed, letting his club fall back against his shoulder. He moved away from the child and walked to the edge of the river. The creature hunched its shoulders angrily, glowering at him, but it left off its keening wail.

The river was deeper than he expected. He could see the water, a few cubits below, along the almost vertical stone bank, but the bed was hidden from his eyes. A few rocks protruded from the surface, some barely rising above the flow, others stabbing up as high as he was tall.

That was how the creature had crossed the river; stepping stones formed a path across, a secret way known only to the ferryman.

The man knelt at the edge and cautiously touched the surface of the water with a fingertip. He could feel the gentle tug of the current, but after a moment, something else. Burning. It was not heat, as from a fire, but the sting of a laundryman’s lye. He drew his finger back quickly, and saw the calloused skin already starting to peel away.

Not even he could swim across the Styx.

The man stood, contemplating the river and his destination, which lay on the other side, across the secret path known only to ferryman. He waved the torch over the water, studying the way the water rippled around the stones hidden just out of view. Perhaps through trial and error, he could find the correct path, but one slip…

No. There had to be another way.

He glanced down at the girl, so serene in death, eyes closed as if merely asleep, mouth open ever so slightly as if to draw a breath.

Then the man glimpsed the faint reflection of torchlight on something in the child’s mouth and he understood what he needed to do.

He took the leather kibisis from his belt and dug out two tarnished silver tetradrachm coins, which he held up for the creature to see. The thing bared its hideous teeth at him—the man realized it was a grin of satisfaction—and it nimbly forded the river once more.

He paid careful attention to where it stepped, memorizing the safe path—yes, he thought. I can do this. Then the thing was standing expectantly before him, hand outstretched.

The man dropped the two coins onto the creature’s open palm.

He heaved the club onto his shoulder once more, and followed the creature across the river, with only the soles of his sandals dipping into the alkaline water, as he leapt between the crossing stones.

As he set off along the far shore, resuming his exploration, he got a last glimpse of the creature hugging the offering of coins to its chest. The price for passage into the Underworld had been paid. Whether the man could find his way back out was none of the ferryman’s concern.





East of Phoenix, Arizona — Yesterday — 2053 UTC (1:53 pm Local)



The smartphone on the passenger seat of the Nissan Altima chirped and Leilani Rhodes glanced over to see who had sent the text message. “Becca. What now?”

She picked up the phone and held it against the steering wheel as she tapped the touchscreen to display the message. She glanced down quickly to read it, then made a little growling noise in the back of her throat. “Seriously?”

The screen read:



I think im going to cut my hair