Negative Film

by Leonard Petracci

  “It has, but never on purpose,” I answered, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m not proud of it.”

  “Pride has nothing to do with it. That’s a burden you must carry with your essence,” Zeke said. “You cannot suppress it without consequences. It’s nature. The person who stirs the viper’s nest has no right to be angry when they are bitten, and those that walk in fire will be burned.” He cleared his throat, then continued, “Now that’s no excuse for attacking the innocent. But in life, there are risks, and those risks must be weighed. Acknowledged. And sooner or later, you’ll roll a snake eyes, and the risk will become real, no matter how slight. And then, you’ll have to act.”

  “So why not just remove the risk?” I asked. “If you could, wouldn’t you just kill all the vipers, or take their poison away?”

  “Who am I to lord over nature?” Zeke answered, looking back up towards the stars. “The world is a balance, and those who try to artificially sway it often do so for the worse. Kill the viper, and perhaps something worse takes its place. Perhaps the entire food chain is disrupted, and other species die off as well. There’s a place for everything, and simply eradicating beings deemed disagreeable or dangerous is the act of playing God.”

  “Then what’s the point of fighting against anything, then? What are we supposed to do, just let the bad guys win?” Frustration carried through my voice, and I ground my knuckles on the rail of the boat, risking splinters.

  “Usually, the bad guys are people of a warped nature. They’re not living their lives as intended. But even if they are, nature is a struggle. Prey fights back against predator just as predator must hunt prey. But the prey should feel no remorse when the predator is hurt, nor should the predator apologize to his meal. Point is, discover your nature. Don’t seek out ill of others. But if others are hurt when they try to hamper you, well,” he flicked his lighter, letting the flame sit in the spot where his finger used to be, “I consider that their own damn fault.”

  I stared into the darkness for my hour of watch when Zeke retired, gently steering the boat as he had shown us the day before. I shivered, alone at the wheel, thinking over his words. Unsure if he was wise or insane, or perhaps both.

  The rest of the hour passed slowly, with only a few rustles along the bank to draw my attention. Above, the stars continued to watch over me, and the moon illuminated a strip down the river that seemed to reach to me like a beckoning hand. My thoughts drifted, and I remembered my first interactions with Siri, then with Lacit. And I wondered what the point was in fighting them, whether more would just spring up in their place. If we would save the world today just for it to fall tomorrow, with more injured along the way.

  Then I was relieved of my watch duty, but my eyes were just as open in the sleeping cabin as they had been on the watch. And in my mind, his voice echoed.

  The prey should feel no remorse when the predator is hurt.

  Chapter 60

  “Holy hell, take a look at this!” Lucio’s voice rang out from the deck, followed by footsteps as he rushed into the cabin, throwing clothes out of his pack in a mad search. “Camera, where’s the camera? Hurry!”

  “What? It’s on the table,” moaned Arial, blinking sleep from her eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “A scene is what’s going on!” Lucio responded, snatching the camera and darting back out of the cabin. “Up and out, let’s go! I need actors!”

  I stumbled outside, still in the cloths that I had slept in, shading my eyes against the light of dawn. Lucio was throwing around props on the deck, draping vines Arial had collected for him over the rail to hide the metal and rustling a mat of leaves to conceal the wood. For good measure, he dumped a couple of our packs on the ground in a circle to simulate a campsite, then aimed his camera at the scene. But the object of the shot was not the props— rather, it was the forest beyond, where a dark shape leered at us from a tree covered in moss, so massive it dwarfed the trunk.

  Fangs snarled and a forked tongue flared, making me jump back before I realized the slitted eyes were glazed over and the torso hung limp. And the body was thick, covered in scales that raced down its length until they were rent in two, the mighty snake ripped in half down the middle, with its tail discarded on the ground like a log. The rest dangled in the air from the wedge in a branch, the wood bowing under its weight, a knot in the serpent’s center giving the appearance of an enormous rope swing.

  “I can’t believe the size of that thing,” gasped Arial beside me. “There’s no way that’s natural! For my tenth birthday, my father booked the zoo and the keepers showed me around the reptile area. There was nothing near that big. Some power had to intervene.”

  “It’s not natural, surely,” growled Zeke, his jaw clenched. “But for a different reason. The python is natural; what happened to it is not.”

  “You’re saying that it grew that big on its own?” Arial asked, casting a nervous glance down at the murky water. “I’m starting to become a lot more grateful of my power.”

  “Yes, and that one is only average. Looks to be male and young, so it runs small. We’ve already passed about a dozen larger ones, felt them around us on the banks.”

  “And you didn’t tell us?” Arial demanded, her eyes widening.

  “You didn’t need to know,” Zeke responded, then as the rest of the group rounded on him, he continued speaking, leaning against the wall of the cabin, rubbing the back of his hand against a rusty nail protruding from the wood. “At this moment, there is a nest of deadly spiders in the branch ten feet to Arial’s right. Underneath us, I can feel a cloud of piranhas thicker than mosquitoes, and at least two of the bugs circling you now contain a disease that would keep you bedridden for weeks. To the north, a storm brews, and it will likely pass, but if it does not, we can expect lightning. A large cat is watching Lola from the east, and if you were to step ashore, you would become dinner due to your size. Lucio nearly ignited our fuel reserves earlier playing with matches. Slugger almost tilted the boat over by changing the weights of too much cargo. And every time SC moves too quickly, I feel as if a hole is about to be punched through the hull.”

  Zeke closed his eyes as we were silent, Arial’s face a slightly lighter shade.

  “But you don’t need to know all that. We live in a fragile world, where only one change can mean death, but to live in fear is not to live at all. So I ask you this— let me handle the danger. I know the jungle, and she knows me, and I will keep her from stepping atop you. It’s best you were ignorant.”

  “Point taken,” said Arial slowly and avoiding his gaze. “But as guide, if you do see something out of the normal, make sure we know.”

  “You will, and this is the first,” said Zeke, nodding to the snake. “It’s not wise to do such a thing here. It stirs the hornet’s nest. Nature has a way of remembering.” He sighed, shaking his head as he went back inside. And on the deck, Lucio had positioned Darian and Lola in front of the snake, leaning back over the railing once more to catch them on film.

  “The land we walk is filled with monsters,” announced Darian a tad too loudly and staring too directly into the lens. “And only a monster worse than this one could do this!”

  “Oh dear,” Lola answered, raising a hand to her forehead. “Marooned and hunted? However shall we survive?”

  “Perhaps we must become monsters ourselves,” Darian answered. “But how then are we different than the serpents that infest this land?”

  “Oh, I dread it,” said Lola, then stopped, looking directly at Lucio, who held up the next line as she broke character. “Lucio, I am not going to call Darian my own little monster. That’s incredibly unbelievable and corny.”

  “I wrote these on the fly, I only had a few minutes,” Lucio protested as the boat started moving again. “We can dub it out later; hurry! We need this footage. Lola. You have to sell it!”

  Then they restarted, Lola rolling her eyes but complying, and soon the snake was left far behind, forgotten by all but the carrion.


  Chapter 61

  “We are approaching our first stop,” said Zeke as we ate dinner that day, a small army of canned food defending the counter behind him. “And it is time for you to be warned of your first danger. One easily avoidable if you respect it.”

  “Oi, I’d like to know what you think would happen if we just bowled right through it,” said Slugger, leaning back in his chair, slapping an empty cup over to illustrate his point. “With the element of surprise on our side, is there really that much here that could stop us? I’d say we pack a right hard punch between all of us.”

  “You can try to think about it that way,” answered Zeke, setting his spoon into a bowl of baked beans. “Though you’d leave nothing but destruction in your path. But say you don’t care about that. The thing about danger, and death really, is that it only has to happen once. With but a one-percent risk, it will catch you eventually. Play enough hands of poker, and eventually you’ll be caught by a royal flush. So should you choose that method, I advise using it sparingly.”

  “Right, but then if there’s only a one-percent chance in this jungle, then we’re already pretty safe,” said Slugger. “Got to take some risks, right?”

  “I did not say that,” answered Zeke. “That was only an example. There is more than what you see here. More than what you think you know. I would not scoff at the invisible.”

  “I think we might have an idea,” Lola muttered, and Lucio waggled his fingers in a spooky fashion behind her head, whipping them away before she could turn around and see them.

  “Regardless, the second reason is should you try to barge through the jungle, you will lose me as a guide. I like the jungle more than I like people. Far more. Now the danger we approach is small camp, a hermitage. Only a few dozen live there, people who have left society behind for a better life.”

  “A better life out here? Seems like they’re giving up a lot for that. If I were to give up society, I’d move somewhere nice, like a mountain or valley. At least somewhere with a hot shower,” said Arial, as she used a napkin to remove a streak of dirt from her forearm. When it came to showers, the boat was severely lacking in water pressure.

  “Half the reason they moved here is because it is unpleasant. It’s a defense mechanism of sorts. And I would have joined them long ago, if I could. You see, these people are Regulars, and they’re living where no Special should just wander in. This far in the jungle, there are no laws— instead, they’ve built their own. Above all others is that any Special entering their compound is punishable by death.”

  “Well, that’s not fair!” protested Lucio. “Why do they get to say whether or not we can enter?”

  “Same reason that Specials walk on Regulars every day and call it civilization. You think that’s fair?” retorted Zeke before jamming more beans into his mouth.

  “Most Specials walk on us just as much, so we get shit on by both sides, if you ask me,” answered Lucio, throwing his hands in the air.

  “And you also have an opportunity to fight back. They don’t. Let them have this, their exile, a place safe for them. But here is your warning— these hermits, or rather, monks, are a sect of the Litious, who believe that any usage of powers is a perversion of nature. That is why they kill Specials, and why they will do it with religious fervor. They will have absolutely no remorse when the pull the knife from your chest.”

  “I still think we could take a few,” Slugger said, balancing his knife on his palm. “It’ll be like playing in a little league. How hard could it be?”

  “It’s said that every morning they paint their nails with the poison from tree frogs found only in this region, with no known cure. For years, they have built a tolerance against the poison— so while they are immune, it would kill anyone else in a matter of minutes. Now I want you to imagine dozens of them attacking you— and all it takes is one small nick to end your life. Not only that, but they don’t care about losing their own lives in the process. Now, in addition to their fingernails are also darts, and arrows, and traps designed specifically against Specials. Sound like it’s worth the risk? More importantly, the loss of life?”

  “Eh, nah,” said Slugger, resigning and letting the knife fall into his bowl with a plop. “But I was just saying, they would leave with casualties.”

  “And they wouldn’t care, because in their eyes, they would have ended a heretic while becoming a martyr,” sighed Zeke. “So here is the rule— after this afternoon, no more use of powers or even mentioning of powers until I give the clear. And if they somehow discover it, we don’t wait— we run. The Litious are some of the kindest people you will ever meet, but also the most ruthless. It’s probably why so many of them are great friends of mine.” He laughed then continued, “Or maybe because every time I go, the danger makes it feel as if I walk on needles. They still think I’m a Regular.”

  The day passed, and the jungle grew quieter as the sun slid across the sky. At its highest point, Zeke gave the command, and we ceased all usage of our abilities. Except for his, since they were natural and nearly undetectable. Then he instructed us to determine which supplies were low— taking stock of gasoline, food, water, and other necessities then adding them to a list.

  Just before dinner, two long docks extended in the water, built from wood pylons lashed together with dark tarred rope, with dozens of metal cleats along their edge to tie the boat. Zeke cast a rope over, snagging one of the hooks and pulling us in, then leapt onto the wood. It creaked underneath him, bending but not breaking, and the rest of us joined him, the feeling of dry land refreshing after days in the river.

  “Now, do not speak unless prompted, and remember, you are Regulars,” he said. “The retreat is one mile inland, and we’ll be trading them for new supplies. Accept no gifts from them, as in their custom, that puts us in their debt.”

  He took two steps towards the land, then froze, his muscles tightening. He seemed to sniff the air, raising onto tiptoe as if he could see the village through the vegetation.

  “Something’s wrong,” he muttered, his voice low, then setting off at a quick walk as we struggled to follow.

  “Shouldn’t we go the other direction, then?” prompted Arial, just as we stepped into the greenery.

  “No,” he said, pausing to face us, his face drawn. “I should feel danger here, as if our deaths were around the corner. But no, it’s numb. Worse.”

  He swallowed, then redoubled his speed, speaking one last sentence.

  “I feel safe.”

  Chapter 62

  “Follow my steps,” said Zeke, stopping to look back at us, the ground behind depressed tin two spots where his feet had been only moments before. “My exact steps. Miss one and I have no control, no guarantee of your safety. Now quickly!”

  He took off running, and with a dubious look, Arial leapt a foot into the air before following, the height difference putting her shoulders level with his. I raced behind, my stride longer than normal as I jumped in his tracks, ducking and weaving as Zeke zigzagged. His path cut sharply, darting around tree trunks and avoiding a small patch of ferns, where something slithered under the fronds. Zeke’s steps and Arial’s gliding were silent, but the remainder of us crashed through the undergrowth, scaring away small critters that skittered through the leaves, plus something larger that bent the vegetation around it. Aside from a patch of brown fur that flashed between the green, I saw nothing more, and in moments, it too was left behind.

  At first, we neither saw nor heard the village— rather, we smelled it. The scent of something that absolutely did not belong in the jungle, and made us cough as we rushed closer. Smoke.

  Arial dropped lower as the particulate grew thicker, letting Zeke take the brunt of the smoke, and in moments, we crashed into a clearing as the foliage broke around us. It looked as if we had jumped back several centuries, the buildings more primitive than any I had seen in the city. The bricks were made from mud and were uneven, stacked and packed by hand. Thatching covered the top of the dozen huts in s
ight, while wooden handrails and bridges led across the irrigation ditches between them, originating from a fountain at the center run not by powers but a natural stream. The paths were gravel, the rock chipped in nonuniform sizes, with some of the stones as large as my fist and smooth from the river.

  But there was another hut that had been reduced to neatly stacked bricks, the only sign that they had been disassembled the furniture left in the center. Thatching lay in neat rows around its flooring, and as I peered around the clearing, I saw five or six others also deconstructed. As I drew a sharp breath, my eyes traced trails of blood to the bodies floating in the fountain, their faces bloated, the stones around the water stained crimson.

  Tattoos crisscrossed their skin, racing in lines that converged in focal points above their hearts and at major joints, in some regions so thick that they appeared more ink than person. Their eyes were open, staring upwards at the azure sky, their expressions still locked in shock. And around them, their weapons lay torn apart— blow guns with darts in neat piles around them, hatches with the blades separated from the handle, spears decoupled with their tips.

  And only once before had I seen destruction so neatly orchestrated.

  “Lacit,” I whispered, unable to look away from the scene. For there were other signs— charred wood scattered around the clearing, some of it still on fire but heavily localized. Scorch marks the shape of fireballs accompanied them— fireballs the same size as the ones that had been lanced at me by one of Lacit’s men. And there were footprints that looked inhuman— deep grooves in the ground that cut into the soil, accompanied by slashes along hut walls caused by diamond hands. Among the dead, there was one I recognized— one of Lacit’s men from the hotel who had guarded the entrance, a dart hanging from his limp neck, and his face colored deep purple.