Final Season Piranhas, “Desert Heat”

Piranhas Final Season, Desert Heat

The wind was even wilder than yesterday and the day before that, yet it was without the mercy and presence of the gray wolf. Nelson was desperate, unable to stand up, both legs broken with the easy work of a heavy hammer. He welcomed rescue, whether human, animal, cryptid, or the gray wolf. Nelson had been seized on his way to his white sedan, which he parked in front of Smookies Vape and Cigarette shop before he could meet and tell Silverback of his secret.

The Surreal Forces had come for him when the summer moon was at its lowest and most vibrant with orange iridescence. When his brother was handling a situation for the Boss. In the shed, his cell, he was entertained by black clouds that hovered in the desert sky, touching the tall, live-wired electric steel fence. that surrounded the shed. What Nelson knew he read in those black clouds, and the steel cuffs surely kept him bound, as freedom seemed so far away. And the whole city, beyond, was locked in a strange, nervous state. Nelson tried and tried to scratch off the burden of fear.

The desert sky Nelson looked up at was a vast, dark expanse of incredible darkness and coldness that hung high above the cracked ground that stretched through the canyons and spread out, cutting into dry riverbeds. Nelson sighed because he was no meteorologist, but there was no possible way it could rain, for the clouds refused to split open. There was a mix of rocks, glass, and chewed-up tire tread on the old highway that vanished a quarter mile ahead. Nelson had looked through the windows but could see nearly nothing, as there were no lights outside. The windows were insignificant compared to the giant, solid wood walls of the shed. Nelson’s stomach growled, and in his pain, Nelson turned his head, but he heard nothing but the hammer of wind. No calls from the gray wolf, the scarlet owl, or motorcycles approaching the shed where he was stored.

The dirt of the desert covered Nelson’s consciousness with the suffering of guilt, but something else he didn’t recognize. Because he’d betrayed too many, including his holy spirit maker, and he reaped a nightmare drawn by the Surreal Forces and the faceless serial killer. His punishment waited in the corner of the shed: a bathtub filled with piranhas; Neslosn was to be their bloody nourishment. Suppose he couldn’t solve his dilemma. However, time was working against him, and the infection was spreading into his blood and bones. This couldn’t be my destiny!

Was it truly justice for stealing the Scarlet Ring? Silverback and The Surreal Forces easily see Nelson’s deception, but his punishment is to confine him to a shed somewhere in the desert, where not even the stars reach the tail of the city.

The leaders of the Surreal Forces could never know this secret. Now they had all the cards except one, the ace. Ace was the master engineer of the Owl Ring. Of course, I would end up here, knowing that fact. I am a sick man, disabled even before; the surreal forces had broken his legs below the knee. His feet had always felt weighted by sand, but now he could not stand. With a bit of luck, the wind would slide the door open, or the windows would blow off, and he’d have the remains of energy from the owl ring to pull himself along the bare and cracked concrete floor out of his hell.

Nelson screamed, ‘Anybody there? Take it away, ‘ Then he saw them: the poisoned walnuts. He could eat them or better feed them to the piranhas once he sauced them with his fresh blood!

Nelson had bled over the mat, dizzy and nauseous, paranoid, but he was alive. Bill marrying Ivory had now made him the single target, and the capture and interrogation by the Surreal Forces was over. “Drown me or fucking let me go. But Silverback goes with a wild pack, the ruthless Gorillas. They don’t back down! They will have revenge, not for me, but for stealing Ivory’s piranhas.”

The Surreal Forces walked closer; they did not blink. They had a flat expression, no emotion, not even when they had broken his legs. “Let me go, please! I will give you the Utah Killer and Silverback. But I warn you, the rumors of the Grey Wolf are as real as those piranhas.” Nelson looked directly into the tub and dipped his thumb and index finger, releasing a walnut. One, two, three, four piranhas took the walnut and swam to the other side.

I witnessed a legend with my fading diabetic sight.. Savage, wild like the wind outside, riding the tracks like a supernatural express train. Claws like a bear, teeth like a bull shark, and intelligence like a raven. Undefeated. Brave like a glorious gladiator. Its name is the Gray Wolf. Calculating, patient, with a bite force like a damn crocodile. Just ask my brother Bill, alright?”

The unblinking eyes of the Surreal Forces fixed on Nelson’s in the vivid spotlight of the ceiling’s fan-hanging bulb lights. “The Gray Wolf never forgets… no regulation or moral codes; it haunts until it erases any being from this earth. By a miracle, my brother is only missing a finger; it’s waiting to consume him in its entirety, soul, and body, striking only when the desire is just right. Yet, its hunger remains unsatiated, like that of a Komodo dragon. My brother’s doomed; you’ll all be too! Nelson was hurting and damn hungry. The pain in his legs and the growing fever were caused by a quickly developing infection from the ignored injuries.

Nelson huffed in the corner of the shed beside the bathtub of piranhas. His pain was the mission of the Surreal Forces. One of the surreal forces wrapped his legs with a makeshift bandage, his red gown swinging with its machine-like movement. Nelson needed a hospital, an emergency room, and a team of experienced doctors to help him if he were to have any chance of regaining the ability to stand up on his own, let alone walk again. His blood pressure was low; he had some confusion, not understanding whether the pain was greater in his stomach, legs, or head. The surreal forces observed as one member gathered the rest, and they prepared to leave.

The Surreal Forces followed one another as dolphins in the sea—a synchrony of steps and an unreadable decision shared between their brows. One by one, they blinked before they left the room; there were a dozen of them, including the one with the red gown.

Nelson had forgotten that the Utah desert and canyons had expanded the dry landscape where there’s a landfill of victims, the serial killer’s property, and rows and rows of blond grass and cacti. No Yeti, but a monster nevertheless, a serial killer that nobody, including the FBI, the Surreal Forces, or Silverback, had yet discovered. Suspicion fell on the number one suspect, a member of the Mountain Gorilla, the leader, the Silverback. Ivory had let his aliases slip: Silverback, the Gray Wolf, and Adam.

That is, until the driver’s license of one of the Utah Canyon victims and a Polaroid picture of a mysterious man stabbed to death in a big truck hauling rock. Silverback had sent the Polaroids to the trio of detectives who held the evidence. Bill left it behind, even though the Boss would have paid whatever he wanted since it was his client’s precious nephew. Had he not been distracted by his finger torn off by the Gray Wolf, the abandoned motel would still hold that clue. Bill ran not from his sin but from the endless cobwebs of the desert that were called the canyons. Somewhere in the desert, yucca and cacti were a serial killer and a Gray Wolf. Which one was going to survive the Surreal Forces?

The desert stars spiraled and protruded with arrowed points; they were a warning to any naive invader. Nelson could hear the piranhas vomiting the crumbs of walnuts and drowning. Nelson understood the many different kinds of monsters that marked the desert canyons—their sole territory, uninterested in the beauty of flowers and phases of the moon. The entire desert was a realm of predator and prey.

It was foolish indeed, for Nelson was only half aware of his recklessness, which made him no match for his challenger. Sure, something happened when he put on the Owl ring. A fluid of rich bravery and strength, the abilities that he had carried in his youth. Now, he had nothing to defend youth or a middle-aged man. Nor the owl ring.

The stars doubled in the late hours; they reigned all together at midnight. Over the desert canyons, the serial killer slept easily; the critters had no urge to stir at all, as if they sensed the evil that made Nelson’s stomach growl and shift and then finally go quiet. The desert had plenty of monsters that would torture first and kill last. Was that the Surreal Forces’ plan for him? Leave him for the serial killer when he’d rather die in a bathtub of piranhas. Nelson threw in the rest of the walnuts. The piranhas that weren’t floating on the surface came up quickly; they crushed the walnuts. In their razor teeth, Nelson gave out a heavy breath.

Nelson lied to the universal supervisor, the one who ultimately matters. The ways of the Utah desert had trapped him; no gray transformation had come to free him this time from the desert canyons, the black beetles, and the centipedes. Nelson was convinced his diabetes would end up killing him; it had indeed worsened as a consequence of his criminal actions. The numerous involvements with brother Bill’s kidnappings, robbery, and beatings/ Sure, he hadn’t killed anyone like his brother, but he was almost there. It was nearly amusing that it wasn’t diabetes that caused his feet and legs to swell and decay, but rather the insanity of the surreal forces.

What was the reason for returning to hunt for the Owl Ring that led him into a trap? The Owl Ring possessed Nelson. It pulled him in like a force, like the evil that haunted the desert. But that fact didn’t raise his blood pressure or anxiety. No, the stars that looked down over him at his fate. Nelson lay still and quiet in front of the shed’s sliding door. The motel was never marked on a visitor map as a designated tourist location. No. The Surreal Forces dropped him exactly there; he was in the shed behind the motel.

The stars had overthrown the moon and now ruled the desert, if just for tonight. And all that moved and glistened were toads, tarantulas, and rattlesnakes. The parachutes of stars, the night sky like a dining table laid out with a feast and drink. The wind was an incredible sight! Without warmth or peace but with illumination, the moon was like a hidden door. Temporary protection from the mystic gray wolf, scorpions, and biting bats: large Juniper bushes and little cactuses by the dozens, with tiny hairs that covered them. Nelson gulped for air, realizing he was live bait.

Nelson never wanted to deceive Bill or even Silverback, and it wasn’t his will anymore; he couldn’t fight the urge that came like forked waves.

Nelson felt a fever; Its bite was mean and chewed on his soul and diseased body. He had abandoned his brother back there in the desert for the sake of staying alive. Nelson couldn’t explain for proof that he was still human and compassion had not bled out, and that was on the edge of depravity, looking at Bill’s eyes as he cut Silverback in the lavatory like a shark with pitch black eyes, with a goal on blood, flesh, and bone to devour in controlled attack.

How often did Nelson take no action but follow the will of another, his brother Bill, who didn’t need permission to be stopped by his younger brother? No, it was a direct fear of Bill and what he had become after contracting with the Boss as his top hitman; Nelson was the assistant. The drugged syrup was a device Nelson made to weaken, lose consciousness, and damage the focus of the brain, twisting to break the target slowly. Bill makes victims of his weird and depraved intentions. It was ironic that Bill and the Boss were never on the radar of the criminal investigations unit because they left no trace or scent of their deeds, just as the Surreal Forces always cleaned up to extraordinary detail and precision.

Nelson smelled the bristlecone pine and heard the sidewinder rattlesnakes from the open lavatory window of the abandoned motel, softly calling the name of the scarlet owl. It had to be here, and he wouldn’t leave it behind or lose ownership of it again—the surreal forces. Bill, the Boss, had merely borrowed it. Ivory had borrowed it. Silverback had the gray wolf, or it had him because of its incredible natural or unnatural magic, though he continuously failed to manage it. The ring belonged to me only.

The great horned owl Nelson sensed was here beneath the mustard-sand colored stars. The mountain gorillas were demons, yes. But Silverback was their king, and Ivory was his queen. I must reverse the betrayal, tell them that Ace was the key. Once he managed the energy and order of the gray wolf to lead the Mountain, Gorrilias’ power would be greater than the surreal forces, and anarchy would be dealt with employing necessity.

Nelson barely lifted himself with his arms and hands, bashing open the door with his head, shoulders, and fists, inhaling Ivory’s rose-lavender perfume as he fell back outside and viewed the back door of the abandoned motel’s back office. If the gray wolf showed up, it would be more fortunate than the mysterious hovering of the black clouds. The gray wolf would gauge the unblinking eyes of Surreal forces. I may or may not understand the concepts of kindness and justness. Destiny had me join a brother I loathe. The cosmic gray wolf was free, and so was the Canyon serial killer, but one just for a while longer. Neslon pushed himself across the ground toward the abandoned motel.