The Serpent League

by Brendan Walsh

  Even if he could talk about it with the gang, he wouldn’t want to. Mostly because he didn’t think they would like what he would have to say, even though they were good souls for their species. His memories of his former life as a regular bat had not faded from his brain. He fondly remembered nightly expeditions huddled by his close friends to lap blood out of cattle with their painless teeth.

  He felt the back of his eyes grow heavy as he thought of how most of his real family and friends were surely dead by now.

  Edgar slapped his head with his wing to shoo away the painful thoughts. There was so much he should have been grateful for over the last three weeks. He found a good group of friends, he helped stop an invasion that would have crippled so many people’s lives, and had a guarantee from Gary that he would always have a warm place to stay. So he resolved to no longer let insignificant comments inadvertently make him disgruntled.

  His senses began to rock like a carousel. His echolocation and heat senses alerted him to a coming threat. He could hear the trembling of trees nearby as powerful wings beat up and down, approaching at frightening speed.

  Moments later he could see the speeding creatures with his own eyes. A group of five gryphons swam through the chilly air, and it didn’t take long for Edgar to dive into the darkness to prepare for a battle.

  But somehow his senses had failed him. He didn’t account for the small clan of three coming from the rear. Before he could get halfway into the haven of trees one swatted him out of the air with a huge paw. The bat’s head got buried in the snow, and the ominous roar from the one that downed him kept him frightened and on the ground.

  When he could safely get back on his feet he saw that his chest was bleeding thinly. It would hurt like hell for a bit but his ability to quickly heal would take care of that.

  The gryphons were ritualistically guarding him. The leader, who was noticeably larger than the rest, towered over the comparatively small animal with angry eyes. Looking around, Edgar could tell these were not the same monsters that he and the gang fought days ago. Something about them was different.

  And there it was: “Father has summoned you.” the leader softly said with a deep voice. Edgar was left with nothing to do. Elder’s beasts had never been able to talk before, and the leader hadn’t even moved his beak.

  “You have no idea how much you’ve angered him.” The female gryphon continued, again her beak was closed.

  The bat hated himself for being physically unable to make some kind of snarky reply to irritate the behemoth. But if he couldn’t do it with words, actions would need to suffice.

  He leaped into the air as stealthily as his bleeding body would allow him. The gryphons seemed to have anticipated the move because they started to pounce while he was still on the ground. But his speed bested theirs, and the three who flanked him crashed into each other, hitting the ground hard.

  His teeth immediately sank into the back of the nearest gryphon. It screamed out in pain, trying to use its wings to slap Edgar off his back. One on the leader’s left side charged at him with its beak wide open. But the smaller flying animal sensed it on time and he flipped back to the ground before it could chomp him in half.

  For the second time of the night, his senses were not enough for him. He wasn’t able to see that the leader had zoomed away from her orderly pose and was sheltered behind the north of the Bronstrom building. By the time Edgar realized what was going on the leader was inches away, about to stomp the consciousness out of him with a front paw.

  He hit the ground with unrivaled force. He could feel the bones in his wings snap like twigs. Under the crushing grip of the lead gryphon he squirmed weakly. But his body wouldn’t let him move more than a centimeter or two for fear of causing several internal organs to be shoved out of place, and the pain on his ribs felt like they had all gone inwards, poking his lungs. He couldn’t breathe.

  It was an act, he thought to himself, they wanted me to try to run away.

  In his last seconds still being awake he saw the gryphon pinning him look down at him with a mix of scorn and enjoyment. A sinister smile was nearly visible on its strong beak.

  “Insect.” it said dully.

  The leader’s open beak began to close on Edgar’s head, and everything went black.

  4

  Hatchlings

  “Is everything alright?” Jane asked.

  Gary flung his coat over the back of a vacant chair and took a seat. “I think so. He looked content when I came back inside.”

  Patrick wiped away the portobello juice from his lips. “But he’s staying outside? It’s like 23 degrees out there.”

  “He’ll come back. Don’t worry.”

  The gang had migrated from the common area to the compact kitchen. They were all enjoying their limited choice lunches. Since Johnny was the only one who had any cooking experience, he was in charge with providing satisfactory meat, vegetables, and fungi. Based on Patrick and everyone’s voracious eating of the food, he had done a good job.

  “Order for two cheeseburgers?” Johnny motioned towards the table, carrying two platefuls.

  “That’s us.” Slate and Lindsey each raised a hand.

  He set the two paper plates down between the two of them. Johnny took off his oven gloves and wiped sweat from his brow.

  “Ugh, I think that’s everybody. Standing over the hot stove for that long makes me want to go outside and dig my face in snow.”

  “Don’t, it’s brutal.” Gary reached back into his folded coat’s pocket and drew out another smoke.

  Patrick tried to swat it out of his hand. “Not in here, Gary. Go outside.”

  “But it’s freezing out there. And I may lose another one because Edgar will tackle me again.”

  Lindsey was already halfway done with her burger. “Why did he tackle you?” she said in between bites.

  “Relax. It was all in jest.”

  Gary decided to meet them halfway and left to go smoke by a slightly cracked window. For the next couple minutes everyone ate in silence as they finished up Johnny’s cooking. Patrick and Jane were the first to finish. Their mushroom sandwiches were the first Johnny put on the pan and they didn’t take too long to get hot and fresh.

  Lindsey’s phone began to buzz. She took a quick look at it and then slipped it back into her pocket.

  “That was just my dad. He’s back in San Francisco right now.”

  “Is everything good with him?” Patrick said as he rose from his seat.

  “Yeah. He and his partner need to straighten a few things out about their passionate ‘Raven Gang’ case. He plans to be back here soon enough.”

  “We don’t need supervision.” Johnny said. “We’re self-sufficient. Just look at us. Adults quietly enjoying home cooked meals. We’re going to be stars when we get back to Weller.”

  Patrick put his paper plate near the sink. The gang agreed to not throw any plastic and paper utilities away. Considering they were in limited supply it was best for them to just wash everything when they were done. Otherwise they would have to constantly be stealing from local stores, which would potentially compromise their base.

  After Patrick placed his plastic fork on the other side of the sink he opened the main cabinet. Mostly small snacks were clumped around the interior. But, more importantly, that’s where they kept their daily servings of alcohol.

  Once his quick glance inside was done, Patrick frowned. “Where the hell did the rest of the rum go?”

  “We ended up not getting anymore.” Slate replied.

  “Why not?”

  Lindsey began to softly giggle. “Because of what happened two days ago, moron. We decided not to keep hard liquor around because of the whole Bacardi situation.”

  Slate smirked. “Why did you even offer any rum to Edgar in the first place?”

  Patrick stuttered. “I thought he would like it. What I didn’t think was that he would end up drinking all of it. Of the countless inklings of information in his brain, I assum
ed that ‘Don’t drink so much rum’ would have been one of them.”

  Johnny slapped off his gloves and sat down next to everyone. “You guys have got to admit that it was hilarious. Remember when he was trying to hang from the ceiling lights and he kept falling and couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong?”

  “And the moment he was trying to drink water and he couldn’t even find his mouth?” Slate added.

  Everyone laughed together for a moment, sharing a several more examples of entertainment their batty friend had provided for them.

  Then there was an uncomfortable silence among them. There was a question that was on everyone’s mind that no one wanted to know the answer to.

  Patrick decided he’d be the one to break that silence. “What are we going to do with him when this is all over?”

  The quietness returned. The gang was all hunched over or uncomfortably seated in their kitchen’s cheap wooden seats.

  “Do you think there’s a way we could keep him out of the light? Somewhere where no one would think about bothering him?” Lindsey replied.

  Patrick resumed. “Because, if there is a big fallout after we beat Elder, which there surely will be, people are going to know all about this.”

  Slate breathed audibly. “And you know what populations tend to do when they feel threatened.”

  Another slow silence came over them. Patrick knew he had more to add, but anything else he had to add would have darkened the mood. With questions like those always looming, there was a part of him that didn’t want the misadventures of the Raven Gang to end.

  A buzzing from the inside of his denim jacket caught everyone in a moment of panic. The vibrating was several times more potent than a cell phone and it was equally compensated by its volume. Patrick tried to slash it out of his pocket but the fierce vibrating pounded painfully against his fingertips.

  Something was making his pocket watch go haywire.

  “I can’t stop it!” Patrick shouted.

  Jane rushed over and tackled her cousin to the ground. The impact caused the watch to flutter onto the floor.

  “This has never happened before.” She kicked it over to the next-door room. Everyone leaped out of their seats and watched the spectacle unfold in front of them. “Something really bad is about to happen!”

  The watch began to move so fast that it was generating its own hurricane. Thick, tingling blue bolts of electricity were being discharged from its interior.

  Patrick and his friends were standing a safe distance away. Any rogue jabs of energy would not have lasted long enough to make contact with their bodies. But Patrick felt something strike him on the back of his head. It was a force that was generated from the back of his brain, causing paralyzing pain to shoot out from the back of his skull and all around his body.

  “Oh my God! Someone help Patrick!” Johnny screamed.

  He and the gang rushed over to try to suppress the massive seizure that was consuming Patrick. He was only still standing because of the supernormal energy force slipping through his blood. Barely the tips of his shoes were still touching the ground, making him almost levitate.

  In a grand outing, Patrick felt a contracted ball of force dissipate down his back, nearly sending his spinal cord into spasm.

  “Ahh!” he bellowed as he came back to earth.

  He didn’t collapse. He still stood there standing, trying to keep his breath under control.

  “Say something, dude!” Johnny urged him.

  At that moment Gary came sprinting down the hall. His eyes swiftly gazed around the room, finding everyone surrounding Patrick.

  “What the hell is happening here?” he demanded.

  “Did your watch go completely insane?” Jane asked coarsely.

  Gary awkwardly shook his head. “Is that what’s going on?” He dashed to Patrick’s aid, almost shoving Slate and Johnny away. He hurriedly slapped his face several times. “Hey, Patrick, come on, get it together.”

  As Patrick’s vision was returning to his eyes he barely started to understand the images that appeared in his head during the seizure. It was the most powerful vision he had ever had, and this was the first one that he completely understood.

  “Edgar.” he panted. “Edgar is in trouble. He’s being taken to Elder!”

  Fifteen Years Ago

  At least there was whiskey. That way he wasn’t completely alone. There were people out there in his living room, waiting for him to speak.

  Dammit. Get it together! he screamed to himself in his head. His trembling hands held his head angrily. Filling his glass with another splash of Jack Daniel’s, he forced himself to appear collected and leave the kitchen to officially greet his new colleagues.

  The small crowd was exactly what Samuel Elder was expecting. The four men and one woman lounging and talking it up quickly became silent as their host strolled in through the entrance. They all looked so professional and naïve, wearing their best suits with their sloppily combed hair. The most important people to his plan were the first who caught his eye, and the two seemed most curious. Those two were Gordon Buchanan and James Frost.

  “I hope the whiskey is all to your liking.” Elder started with a steady smile.

  “I’m more of a Jameson man myself.” Gordon replied, taking a small sip. “But this is still quality stuff.”

  Elder stiffened. “I am pleased. Now, I was thinking that before we officially get started here we could do a little bit of introductions.” The doctor cleared his throat and held his hands behind his suit. “I am Samuel Elder, the current head of Elder Incorporated. I know what you’re all thinking, how could such a young man have such a high position?”

  “You inherited it.” Grant Patane replied. He clearly already had his share of booze.

  “That’s true.” Elder tipped his head to his fellow biologist. “But under my leadership a lot of things have changed for the better. It is essentially a completely different business now, which as you all will find out soon enough, is exactly what is necessary right now.”

  A thick portable phone was set off in the one woman’s purse. She made on astonished cry and moved to silence it. Everybody was looking at her.

  “I’m sorry. That’s probably nothing that can’t wait until after the meeting.”

  She was a youthful looking woman with even blonde hair slopped to the left of her head. She had the kind of smile that had an innate wisdom to it, as if it were a virtue that could be spread from one face to another.

  Elder absently approached her. “Gordon, how shameful it is that you’ve never introduced me to your love.”

  “It is mighty rude of me.” he bowed to him slightly. “Doctor Elder, this is my wife, Laura Van Pert.”

  Laura fixed her smile to an innocent one as she extended an open hand to him. “I’ve heard such wonderful things about you, Doctor Elder-”

  “Please call me Samuel.” he interrupted.

  “Samuel, it’s very nice to finally meet you, and everyone here. Everyone has such interesting stories to tell.”

  “Don’t I know it.” he grinned wolfishly. “Now, back to the reason why we’re all here.”

  Elder skimmed through everyone else’s introductions. He presented James Frost, an esteemed journalist for the SF Post who liked to brag about his five-year-old son whose name was Gary. Beyond that, everyone there knew Gordon Buchanan the established science fiction and fantasy writer who everyone knew was a disastrous romantic with a fondness for life and every form it came in.

  Also, Grant Patane, an up and coming biologist who was currently involved in transformative work with proteins. Lastly, a young man who had just graduated high school. It was a wonder how he hadn’t graduated college already. With his vast intellect and ambition, he could have already been brought into the limelight of the scientific world. But that would conflict with the doctor’s grand plan.

  “I know he’s a bit young,” Elder assured. “but this young man will move the timetable of my plan. All the quicker
we can get to the final phase. This is Jefferson Black.”

  This introduction earned the young man a big applause from the other five people gathered around. The young student shyly gave everyone a friendly wave.

  Gordon stood up with his glass. “Samuel, as impressive as this young man’s background is, are you sure it is so wise to get him involved in this?”

  “Don’t worry. It will be completely silent. No one will know he spends some of his hours in our lab. Believe me when I tell you he’s truly gifted.”

  “Alright. I believe you. Now, I’ll be the one to take the bullet.” Gordon walked over to the center table and poured himself another glass of whiskey. “What specifically are we here for?”

  The doctor didn’t reply. Instead he turned over to a colored display hidden under a large sheet. Like an illusionist he flapped the blanket off in one motion, letting everyone see the giant pictures and hypothetical designs.

  One row mapped out gallons of information about the country’s current military statistics, marking where money was well spent and where things did not work. The other side of the board had a copious number of chemical formulas, such as theoretical amino acid models along with a diagram mapping out thousands of years of evolution. There was so much controversial data, and it was just the surface of what the doctor had in mind.

  “This,” he exclaimed with a swipe of his hand. “is what we’re here for. For a better world.”

  He continued his speech, but not before pouring a glass for himself and taking a shot. “Years ago we saw the worst terrorist attack our country has ever seen. The number of civilian deaths made its predecessor look like child’s play. It’s only about time before we end up declaring war on even more countries. It’ll probably turn out to be an awful choice, but that can all be avoided if we take the proper precautions.”

  “And what do you mean by ‘we’?” Grant asked.

  James crossed his arms, swishing his drink in one hand. “It’s not like we have access to any high-level intelligence, or even…” he squinted at the small text on the board. “That kind of scientific luxuries.”