The Serpent League

by Brendan Walsh

Edgar wasn’t moving. He was paused like a stone with the pen in his teeth. He was eyeing the human, wanting her to say more.

  When she didn’t, he wrote another message. ‘You don’t want to see him?’.

  There wasn’t a pause from BJ this time. “No. What good would that do? To have him know that I’ve been living most of my life as a wild animal, and that it was him who condemned me to it? And what will he say? Will he say he’s sorry he didn’t successfully kill me?” she folded her arms under her breast. “Nope. I’m a self-sustained organism, and I’ve successfully been one for about fifteen years. I’m not going back.”

  She grabbed a chuck of Edgar’s fur near his neck and tugged him against her like a disobedient pet. “Listen to me. Just stay here. These boys are your friends. I need to go for a bit to think some things over. Be very very careful with the Serpent League. Beneath their power, they’re just worms under a rock.”

  Turning from Edgar, she went down on all fours as her biology was adjusted. Her clothes seeped into her skin, and her pale skin was coated in golden fur again. After leaping back into the night, the lioness was nowhere to be heard.

  12

  Story Time Again

  “Where would you like me to begin?” asked doctor Elder.

  “I think the beginning is probably the best place?” Johnny replied. “Does that work with you guys?”

  Patrick and Gary nodded. They shared Johnny’s biting hesitance at hearing their enemy share a story, but it wasn’t as if they had any other appointments.

  The three members of the gang were seated. Patrick and Johnny shared the couch while Gary had a bean bag chair to himself. Elder had refused to sit. Instead, he had grabbed a chair from the table and leaned his elbows on its back.

  “I thought you already revealed your ‘evil scheme’ to us before the NAS gala.” Patrick said. “Why leave this out?”

  Gary leaned forward. “Good question. Especially since these guys in this ‘Serpent League’ appear way more powerful than you ever were.”

  The doctor tightened a fist to his chin. “You guys… you children don’t know anything. You don’t know about the kind of choices I had to make.”

  “Then help us know, won’t you?” Patrick asked. “Look, tell us the facts. Don’t tell us anything about your ego or about your fear of failure or about your will to reshape the world. Tell us the story as the pawn in the story that you are… the pawns that all of us are.”

  “Fine. Fine.” Elder exhaled. “It’ll be a shorter story this way, anyway.”

  Gary rose from his bean bag chair. “I’m going to go get Eddie. I think he’d be interested in this.”

  “Don’t waste his time.” the doctor waved a hand. “I saw the look in his eyes. He wants to be alone.”

  Patrick sensed that there was more Samuel wanted to say, but he had stopped himself. It made him nervous. If either Gary or Johnny had sensed anything too, he would tell them about it afterwards.

  “So, the Serpent League.” Johnny began. “Tell us what the hell they are. How do they shapeshift like that?”

  “The majority of their methods involve science that goes right over my head.” Elder replied. “I’m afraid if you’re looking for a university biology lecture from me, you won’t be getting it.”

  “Fair enough.” Gary said. “What can you tell us about their philosophy? What is their goal?”

  “Even that I’m not fully in the light about. I think this would go faster if I just told you everything I know. That way I won’t have to keep telling you ‘I don’t know’.”

  The trio agreed to it. The doctor tapped his hands on the chair like a nervous schoolboy before a test, and scrunched his lips.

  “I’m dead for this. I’m dead for this.” he said softly, then began. “For the few of us that know more than what the TVs caught of the Serpent League today, nobody knows the date of their origins. It was theorized by Gordon Buchanan that they simply came into existence, along with life on earth.”

  Everyone turned their heads to Patrick at the mention of his father. He felt a shiver go down his spine. My father knew of them? Of that strange power? He couldn’t believe it.

  “But he was the writer of our group. The creative. At times he seemed to believe a Bradbury short story over a hard science article, but that certainly doesn’t make him wrong in this instance. The Serpent League is certainly not composed of humans.”

  “Not human!” Gary turned to the other two, sharing their disbelief. “Forgive our hesitation, but they walked and talked and looked like humans.”

  “But they could do that shapeshifting stuff.” Patrick added. “Geez…”

  “Regardless of Gordon’s ideas,” Elder continued. “there is something unnatural about them. Something no current science can solve.”

  Johnny squirmed in his seat. “You mean that they’re not from here? That…that there like aliens or something?”

  “Probably not.” Elder said. “Quite the opposite. It seems like there is something very much terrestrial about them. It’s as if they represent all life on earth. Humans included.”

  “And where does my father fit into this mess?” Patrick asked. He then shot an eye at Gary. “And James Frost as well?”

  The scientist paused, letting out a loud exhale. “Perhaps those two were the brightest among us. They had the right sense to get themselves killed.” Both Gary and Patrick winced. “As I told you those weeks ago: Gordon was to be the imagination to my science. He inspired me in countless ways, and whatever you think, I believe he made me a better person.

  “Lots of people have the desire to change the world.” Elder continued. “But never before has anyone come so close to reshaping it as I did.”

  “Gee, you’re still not very humble, are you?” Gary said, showing teeth.

  “Don’t take my word for it. It was exactly what the Serpent League told me.” When he saw that his words once more didn’t make sense to the gang, he continued, “I suppose they found out through James Frost. He was the journalist among us. He was excellent at slowly giving light to the nature of my experiments, such as your pal Edgar. Or maybe they simply have eyes everywhere; eyes through every breathing being on the planet. One night, I was woken up to find a strange man in my living room. He told me he was sent on behalf of the Serpent League. He knew about everything I was planning on doing…”

  “Wait wait wait…” Johnny raised a hand. “Something’s off here. Didn’t you start this whole crusade of yours because of the death of your wife and…daughter.”

  “That’s right, as I told Patrick when we were fencing. But there’s more. I was committed to my ‘new world’ idea before then. The Serpent League didn’t like my plan. The man told me that I was interfering with their plan, and that I could either adapt to theirs or they would force me to quit.”

  Doctor Elder told them of the initial deal he made with the League. He told them, softly and through fought bouts of rage, about how they had tricked him into doing experiments on his own daughter, BJ. Once he realized that they had lied to him, it was too late. The damage was already done, and his then five-year-old daughter had turned into some kind of nightmare creature and killed his wife, Mary, and then he had to kill her.

  “But I was a fool…” his voice grew louder. “And I hated them for their lies, and then I hated Gordon for keeping loyal to me.”

  “Okay…okay. I’m starting to get what you’re saying.” Patrick said. “But now’s the time I need to ask something just as pressing. What are our watches? Why can they teleport us? Why is mine messing with my head and Gary’s isn’t? Why didn’t I die when you stabbed me through the chest?”

  Elder was the only one whose eyes didn’t shoot wide like Christmas bulbs. After they made their escape from the Brostrom building, everyone was loath to believe Patrick’s telling of the events, at least the part where he claimed he died and his father had come to him in a dream. He’d have thought that, considering everything the gang has seen since then, they’d b
e more ready to accept his telling of the event.

  Elder smiled, after a moment of thought. “Those are all questions that have very different answers, but all just as relevant to our current foe.

  “Your father,” the doctor continued. “Wasn’t a great man, by conventional standards. Of course, his stories were all about beauty, and showing the optimism for social progress for our society. But what nobody knew was what he said that didn’t make it into his books. He was a dark man.”

  “I get it, alright?” Patrick said with a sneer. “I get it, I never actually knew my father, and apparently only you did, and not even my own mother. But cut the monologuing.”

  “Please listen to Patrick.” Gary said, slouching in his seat like a tired dog. “We’ve had our worlds turned upside-down enough today. There’ll be time for more answers later. But please, just tell us what we want to know.”

  Johnny nodded. “Tell us about the watches. How do they work?

  “Well, before I can tell you that, I need to tell you that your friend, Edgar, is living on borrowed time, and only has a few more days left to live.”

  “He told us that already!” Gary beamed, but from the drooped look of his face, it seemed as if he had forgotten about it.

  Elder surveyed their expressions. “My mistake. Apparently he trusts you all more than I thoughtt.”

  Patrick turned to Gary, who looked to be the most distraught out of the three. He wasn’t surprised the news had had the biggest effect on him. Out of all of them, their trouble-child member had made the tightest bond with the bat.

  “Isn’t there something you could do?” Gary asked softly. “Anything in your nightmare arsenal that could save him? Isn’t that what you told him?”

  “Yes, I think that there just might be something I could do.” Doctor Elder shifted his legs, getting more comfortable in his stand. “But please, to answer all questions you might have in the future, let me tell you a story about my best friend, George Gordon Buchanan.”

  The address wasn’t far, even by flight, but he got there later than expected. Indecision. There was a lot at stake for Edgar. Even the fact that he only had days to live meant that this time was being spent not doing something more worthwhile.

  The place given to him by the Serpent Leaguer was innocent looking. It was in San Francisco proper. Even stranger, since it required him to fly over populated crowds during the happening hours of the night. Perhaps the League didn’t care, which wouldn’t be surprising. The whole world had seen him earlier during the attack at the police station.

  What difference did one more sighting make?

  The first thing he noticed was the back entrance. Since the front faced a busy street, it was smarter to enter the other side. It looked like that was what they wanted anyway, since the back door was open. A lone young security guard stood by the door, armed with nothing but the skin of his fists. He wore a black jacket and a lost look on his face.

  The bat landed a few feet in front of him. Balancing himself with the thumbs of his wings, and stumbled over to the guard, who then turned to face him.

  “Good evening,” the young man said, as if he were greeting a mailman. “Find the place okay?”

  Edgar nodded.

  “Swell. The one you’re looking for is on the top floor. Try to ignore anything those ears of yours pick up on the way. Just stick to why you’re here, alright?”

  Nodding again, Edgar stepped through the doorway. Instantly, he knew why the man had ended with that warning.

  It was unlike anything he’d ever heard in his years as one of Jefferson Black’s guinea pigs. The sounds themselves were as formless as the shapeshifting men. The voices from everywhere, above him, below, and in between the walls were human, but with jaws that could make sounds unheard since the rise of gill-less animals or the end of dinosaurs. Edgar didn’t know why that idea came into his head. Maybe it was because he was as much of an animal as the prehistoric owners of those sounds. Something like genetically inherited memories through all animal life was a possibility. Wasn’t there a species of worm that could transfer memories to their offspring? The bat didn’t know. There were many things he didn’t know.

  Cries of a plethora of other extinct and modern beasts dominated the air as well. He figured that they were made from Serpent Leaguers working on their transformations.

  Going up the stairs, he hurdled with his wings, forming a bit of a gallop. Besides the sounds and the air of danger that brushed through him, the building was normal. The bat thought that perhaps the building had the same liquid properties as all the people. It seemed solid and normal enough, but that didn’t explain how he couldn’t hear all the strange cries from the outside of the building.

  Once he got to the top floor, all sounds ceased. For four whole floors the cries and squeaks and wails deafened him, but the moment he reached the final step, as silent as an abandoned library.

  The whole top floor was one room. The only color he could see was a sharp shade of blue. He stuck his head about, listening for someone around or any sudden movement, but all he could hear was the shuffling of his own feet.

  “Desmodontinae.”

  The voice seemed to have no source, like all the other sounds before.

  “At least, that’s what the Latin name for your species is.” The voice continued. “I’m not sure what you would be called now, considering you’re one of a kind.”

  The voice gained an echo at the end of the sentence, allowing Edgar to locate its source. In the center of the room, in front of the large window overlooking the city, there was a lone seat and a humanoid figure was sitting there.

  It looked, sounded, and smelled human, but the bat knew it wasn’t. The heartbeat was way off. As if the figure were in a coma. The rest of its features seemed to be in a flux. Not surprising.

  “Don’t just stand there trying to figure me out,” it said. “come over here. I called you here for a reason, just as you came here for one.”

  Edgar hobbled over. As he approached, the features of his host came into view. It was impossible to place an age on the thing, but it seemed male. It had brown hair, otherwise entirely shaven. All it wore was a purple robe, covering most of its body.

  “Do you know why I’m here?”

  Edgar stared.

  The thing slapped a hand to its face. “My mistake. Your jaw is inhibiting you from speaking.” Edgar took a note. This was the first time one of these people seemed to be in error. “Let me fix this. This will make our chat go a lot easier.”

  Its pale, blood-less hand fell over the top of the bat’s head. Edgar felt a tingle shift through his muscles, as if he were in a centrifuge. When it was finished he had a massive headache, and his fur was frizzed out.

  “I hope that wasn’t too unpleasant for you.” said it.

  “It was,” a voice out of the bat’s head said bitterly. “what the hell did you do?”

  Edgar hadn’t noticed it right away, and now the thing was amused by the look in his yellow eyes.

  “It’s like the technology Elder used to get you to talk the other day, except this is better. I’ve changed your biology. Now you don’t have to be in that human’s pitiful cage to speak your mind.”

  He could feel his heart pound faster. Edgar knew the thing could hear it too and he hated it.

  The bat looked the thing in the eyes. “Now that I can talk, what is it you wanted from me?”

  “I wanted to tell you that I’m disappointed in you.” It shifted in its seat slightly. Edgar noticed that the robe was more brown now, and the eyes of the figure now were yellow like his. “I don’t want to be, so allow me to explain.

  “You surprise me, bat.” It continued. It rose from its volcano-colored seat, and its robe swayed like ashes in a hot wind. “You’re an excellent fighter. Of course, you were made for that purpose, but you have the cerebral capacity to become what you want, and not simply be condemned. Because of this, I find it amusing that you continue to choose to fight alongside those h
umans.”

  “They’re my friends, and we have the same agenda.” Edgar replied, narrowing his eyes. “Where’s the surprise there?”

  “Save me the heartfelt sympathies.” It replied. “I don’t believe it, and I don’t believe you do either.” It took two steps toward Edgar. Now its skin was an almond color, and it was notably more feminine. It continued with a lighter voice: “Why you fought alongside the police against the League is baffling. The police: the very people sworn to preserve society, which keeps mankind as the dominant species of the planet, the species that drives animals such as yourself to extinction. Why? What could you possibly owe them?

  “And don’t tell me it’s because you were protecting the father of one of your friends.” It continued, in its new soft, feminine speech. “Those friends of yours are in your debt, not the other way around.”

  “That’s not true!” Edgar retorted. “They didn’t have to keep me with them. They didn’t have to learn to care about me!”

  “Sure, they did. They saw you as an asset, a brilliant asset, to their self-preservation. They wouldn’t have won the battle with Samuel Elder if not for you. You are the main character of the story, not them.”

  “So what?” The bat fought ever urge to pounce the strange new-woman. “Friends aren’t supposed to care for each other simply because they get useful pleasures from them. They do it to treat the other as a good in themselves. At least, great friends do, and that’s what I want to be to them.”

  The new-woman sighed, her skin seemingly getting darker by the word. “Your intentions are noble, bat, but sometimes nobility is simply best as an ideal, and not something to expect someone to truly abide by. You see,” she took a few more steps closer, now nearly skin-to-fur with him. “organisms, even humans, operate on self-interest. In this way, everything is just a tool for them for their self-preservation, and ultimately, reproduction.”

  Dark wavy lines began to form on her skin, and all her hairs receded to her bones. What looked like reptilian scales had replaced them, making her into some kind of humanoid amphibian.