“I’m working for the lumberjack. We go into the woods to chop wood. James and I, I mean. We…” His words died in his mouth.
“I am sorry, Chef. I did not mean to…” Erika lowered her stare, playing with her food. “We medical people shut down our sentimental side at times, you know, to be able to continue living after work.”
“It’s all right,” Liam assured her. “It’s just too fresh to make sense of it.” He pulled the sweater she had given him a bit tighter. “Is it colder than usual, or is it me?” It wasn’t, and he knew it too well. He was afraid of the boy’s fate, and no amount of heat would stop the shivers. Despite the impassiveness required of a medical professional, Erika wasn’t half the liar her colleagues were. She wasn’t hiding the truth of James’s fate.
Erika smiled, waiting to finish chewing. “I was stationed at the Arctic Ocean station before my transfer to Deviator. So, it is either hot or too hot for me on this rock.”
“I see. Well, I’m from the Mars colony, but that was a lifetime ago, you know. It’s well over thirty years since I have been stationed on a planet.”
A dreadful scream cut their conversation short, and Liam was on his feet before he realized, spilling his food all over the sweater. “What was that?”
“I don’t know.” Erika’s jaw tensed.
“Did you hear that?” A nurse rushed into the hall from the other end. His heavy eyes suggested he had just woken up.
“It came from the ICU.” Erika beckoned the nurse to follow. “Mr. Haskins, call all emergency personnel to the ICU.”
Liam watched the two run to the intensive care unit. Perhaps it was about James. He was there. “He was the only patient.” He couldn’t help his mumbling.
“Oh my… No!” the voice came from behind the door as the shadow of a man grew larger on the stained glass a moment later.
Liam froze. It was a male’s voice, deep and rich. “Fred.” It was the blond nurse who had grabbed him in the shower. He hesitantly reached for the mess hall’s doorknob, but before he could do anything else, the doors swung back, smashing him in the nose. He flew a good two meters, wailing in agony. When Liam got back up, it was fear that welcomed him. Panic. Disgust rushed at him. Even in his nightmares, he was sure he didn’t have a creation this grotesque haunt his dreams.
It was James, all right—at least his left side still somewhat resembled the poor kid. The right side, however, was horrifying. The eye was gone. So was half the boy’s face. Instead, a giant, brown centipede nested there, carving out a hole for itself. Slime on its skin glowed under the pale lighting of the mess hall. Several large claws emerged from the nest and held Nurse Fred’s face, keeping his body before the creature. A gnawing sound mixed with the man’s screams. Tiny mouths attached to the claw were eating him alive.
“Sweet mother of mercy…” Liam whispered, crawling back.
“Liam,” the creature spoke, sending icy spikes down the old man’s spine. “Liam, I can’t stop it!” The voice was James’s. The left side of him tried to turn away from the brutal scene to the right, happening on his face. Teeth sharp as knives ground Fred’s cheekbones, crushing his face. A tail poked out from James’s thigh and grabbed his right leg. Liam could now see it all. The creature nested in James’s body had invaded all of his body, slithering through his leg and torso. It merged with his skin. And the worst part was, James was still in there, experiencing the freak show firsthand.
“Boy…” Liam felt his heart crushed. He grabbed the edge of a table to stand up. “My boy, James…”
“I’m sorry, Liam, I can’t stop it!” The boy’s voice tore at his soul, agonizing, pleading for help, but the creature enjoyed its late-night snack—Fred—before Liam’s eyes. Soon after, Fred’s voice dimmed and died, the insect still enjoying its food.
Liam puked. “Gods!”
Little insects poured from James’s right arm and rushed through the body of the blond nurse. Liam’s head spun, and the heaving gave him a sudden, powerful spike of a headache. He lost his balance and hit his hip against the chair behind him. The firmly attached lunch table was his savior.
Abrupt gunfire near his head deafened Liam’s left ear, but he was too much in shock to react. Two marines and Erika behind them goggled at him. Erika had grabbed his arm, but he wasn’t sure when that happened. The Marines discharged whatever ammunition they had on James, but the boy still screamed repeatedly, apologizing. A sudden, deep humming cut off the boy’s voice, and another centipede came out of his mouth, clinging around his throat like a snake on a branch. The boy’s left eye was still open, twitching, but the voice was gone. Liam hated to admit it, but he was thankful for the silence.
The creature stepped toward the bunch, still dragging Nurse Fred's dead body, now covered in a thin sheet of white. A cocoon. The soldiers retreated slowly, firing nonstop. Liam heard voices behind now and shouting. Anyone who had picked up the shots was pouring out of the rooms. Liam was unsure if anyone hadn’t heard the abrupt gunfire in the middle of the night. One of the marines turned and pushed Liam and Erika outside the room with his rifle, shouting. Liam’s mouth was open, and he was numb, but he obeyed the gesture. Erika was right beside him, pulling his arm while she covered her mouth with her other hand. Her scrubs were stained; her face was a queasy yellow.
Three more soldiers passed them as they rushed into the mess hall. Their shock was obvious, but their training kicked in, each of them bursting their rifles on the creature. It was in vain. The monstrosity walked toward them slowly but steadily, showing no sign of slackening. They all pushed out of the big room, retreating to the corridor. Liam noticed four officers. The fifth one was attached to the second centipede’s claws, dragged by the creature, just like the male nurse.
“Everybody fall back. Out of the building, now!” The officer in front of Liam yelled, and he found himself and Erika running for the exit. Liam heard the man radio for backup and ask for flamethrowers but couldn’t make out the rest. Another scream stopped their run short. An old woman, looking just like the refugee he woke up next to, was between them and the exit. She screamed—was that Spanish? — and looked at her arms in sheer horror. Both had mutated into the same centipedes in James’s body. Her left foot had been replaced by a taproot moving its tendrils slowly as if searching the floor. Her arms were like two snakes trying to grab anyone alive and human within their reach.
“We are trapped,” Erika shouted. Her words were lost in the river of shrieks. James, the first monster, now had four bodies dragged beside, and the wormlike creatures emerged from it like a hydra. They hissed, they clicked, and they wriggled. It no longer resembled anything like the boy Liam had brought in earlier, and the creature was devouring its new prey, the two marines who had come as backup. The first soldier swung at the monster with the butt of his rifle as a desperate hysteric move. The other soldier was already crumpled, sinking to the ground by the wall.
Two more of the abominations, a female nurse and one of the caretakers, emerged from an examination room. Within minutes, the survivors were down to four. Erika, Liam, and the soldier stood before the first monster, which had countless worms moving in harmony over James’s body. One of the refugees, a teenage boy, held the caretaker monster at bay with a chair. Liam watched the other two insects feast on fallen bodies. It was as if they were working on their next generation of creations with discipline and precision, covering the fallen in cocoons, moving from one body to the next.
“Hey!” the soldier’s voice rang in his ears, and Liam realized he had been slapped.
“What?” Liam watched the whole thing in slow motion. His own voice slowed down to his ears. They were trapped inside the corridor, and there was no way out.
The marine took out his pistol and waved at him. The metal weapon moved lazily before his eyes, the lights from the ceiling reflecting on the hold.
Liam found himself nodding. He was sure it wasn’t him. Perhaps he was turning into another mutant, just like James. Liam looked at his hands
. They looked normal. He slowly watched the soldier fire his pistol at the teenage boy. A single bullet to the head. It felt comforting. He felt only happiness for the boy. Then Erika fell to her knees, staring into nothingness as a small trail of red fluid leaked from her head, near her little nose, all the way to her chin, and dripped on the floor. He had been fond of the cute nurse since they had first met back on Deviator. Was that four years ago? Liam wasn’t sure. He looked at the soldier and watched a dark shape with tens of small legs rise behind the man as a hulking shadow right before the man’s gun flashed for the last time, the third bullet coming for Liam.
MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL
Ray stared at Sim’Ra for ten minutes without a word, playing with his locket idly, softly rubbing its rusted metal surface. “Well,” he sighed finally, reaching for the canteen in his jacket, “I’m here as per the request of our one and only herald of doom. To your health.” He raised his flask, took a long sip, and winced as the burning booze ran its course to his belly—my faithful companion in these challenging times.
“So you are. I commend you,” Sim’Ra nodded. Two marines stood near him, pointing their rifles at the Baeal’s head. The dark figure had a small trail of its dark blood clotting on his lips. He had risen to salute Ray when he arrived, and one of the guards hit him hard with the stock of his rifle. If he tried to stand up again, Ray was sure one of those rifles pointed at him would fire without hesitation. Not that he cared much.
“All right, I’m drunk enough to suffer you. What do you want?”
Sim’Ra lowered his dead stare, looking at the metal table. “Mr. Harris, you are aware.”
Ray sighed again. “Buddy, by now, you should’ve figured out I hate riddles, and you’re full of ‘em. Either talk, or I’ll leave this room in two seconds. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do with my daughter.”
“Elaine, yes.” Sim’Ra’s eyes met Ray’s. “A brave girl. Her voyage was hard, but she was untouched.”
Ray narrowed his eyes. “What did you do to her?”
“Me? Nothing.” Sim’Ra shook his head slowly. “I even saved her life and dignity more than a few times from,” the Baeal licked his lips before continuing, “…unwanted attention.”
“You stay away from her.”
Sim’Ra laughed, his rich, layered tone booming in the room. “Mr. Harris, I do not believe I will be allowed to wander.”
“You got that right,” Admiral Conway said, watching the exchange with interest, and Ga’an simply growled. The tall ancient looked eager to make that a certainty, breaking the neck of Sim’Ra there and then. “Mr. Sim’Ra, I suggest you start giving us answers.”
Sim’Ra nodded. “First, your planet is safe. Or was, when I last saw it. Your stunt with the Arinar ensured our doom. I am not so sure about the Consortium’s fate. They had abandoned your people, and a new government is in the making, I presume.”
“I warned you.” Ray took another sip from his canteen.
“True.” Sim’Ra smiled again. “We, Baeal as you call us, are an inter-planar race. Time has a different meaning for us than it has for you. We are touched by the planes, and the planes are touched by our existence. Our voice echoes in the void for eternity.” He lowered his eyes, his expressionless face almost looking sad. “Or so we thought.”
“You lost your voice?” Ray mocked.
“No. We became too loud.” Sim’Ra stiffened. “The planes are full of creation. Some lesser, some superior. There is a balance of creation. We, as a race, tried to cheat that balance and mimic the role of the Architects in our planar journey.”
Brother Cavil had been uncharacteristically silent. Everyone jumped when he spoke. “A balance of creation? Like a natural balance?”
“Both natural and artificial.” Sim’Ra nodded. “Like an ecosystem, the universe has its own rules, priest. You can bend those rules, but you cannot break them—the universe or whoever is powerful enough interferes. Like a plague controlling the population, or a predator being the prey of another.”
“Good. Great even.” Ray put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “You stole your granny’s pie, and she beat you with a stick. What does any of this have to do with your guys showing up at our doorstep and with me? You have about thirty seconds left.”
“The Architects silenced us when we became overzealous about our power. The Devourer, a loose translation of her name in your language, came to extinguish our existence, and we fled. This plane was untouched by the Devourer. Therefore, it was suitable to restart our civilization. Only, we did not expect to encounter resistance.” He looked at Ga’an.
“You killed my whole race!” Ga’an growled, and the marines jumped to stop him as he reached to choke Sim’Ra.
“Ga’an,” Admiral Conway barked. “Get a hold of yourself.”
“I told you,” Sim’Ra said, looking amused. “The explosion in the gate severed our connection to this plane, and our armada was pulled back to be devoured. Your race lasted for millennia after your sacrifice, Nucteel. Baeal lost a great many that day.”
“Not enough,” Ga’an growled.
Sim’Ra ignored Ga’an’s hostility. “I was sent to this time to investigate whether there was still an advanced society here and infiltrate it, preparing for our final conquest. However, we did not expect to find the Lohil.”
“Finally!” Ray was almost out of juice. “I’ve been sitting here for half an hour now, maybe forty-five minutes, waiting for an explanation. Buddy,” he turned to look at Brother Cavil and winked, “you’re a horrible storyteller.” The old priest didn’t reply, taking this exchange seriously. Ray didn’t care. He laughed at his own joke, and suddenly the rusted locket became more interesting than the conversation once again.
“My race predated humans.” Ga’an narrowed his eyes. “What you say does not make any sense.”
Sim’Ra shook his head. “Time is but a plane for us. We can touch it and ride it if we want. You experienced it by mistake. You were pulled to the gate, but you are not a planar creature, so you ended up here. We cannot control it; we cannot manipulate it on a grand scale. But we can touch it.”
“But why here?” Admiral Conway asked. “Why not say, a hundred years from now?”
Sim’Ra smiled and locked his stare on Ray. “Because of him.”
Ray had been fiddling with his coat instead of listening. “What? Me?”
“You are the Lohil. A beacon that touches beyond time and planes. The fate surrounds you, and you shape it.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Admiral Conway spoke before Ray could say anything. “You are telling us that Ga’an was thrown into the future in time and ended up here, connected to Mr. Harris because he is the Lohil.”
Sim’Ra nodded.
“And your race can travel in time as they like.”
“Not exactly, but in your understanding of time, yes.”
“So why not go back in time before the Ancients rose to power and be done with them? Why not have Ga’an find another Lohil?”
Sim’Ra laughed. “As I said, not exactly and not as you understand it. You can bend the rules. You cannot break them.”
“Anyway,” Ray stopped the dialog before it turned into a theoretical physics debate. “You were talking about the Lohil.”
“The Lohil is a vessel of the Architects. As the Devourer and Lohil balance the shift of power, sometimes the Devourer herself and the Lohil must be checked. You are her nemesis, and She is yours. Arinar are your weapon. The Architects were intelligent in their grand design and paranoia, putting a counterforce for everything they’ve created, just to be safe. The thing is, you used the Arinar to battle Baeal and not Her.”
“So, a chick wants me bad. Wha’s fuss all ‘bout?” The booze was starting to hit.
Sim’Ra smiled. “You are not a good liar, Mr. Harris. I know you saw the Devourer. I know you are afraid.”
Ray couldn’t argue. He was afraid and had no idea what the Devourer was beside the vision the Arinar h
ad shown him, and that was more than enough to terrify him. He knew the moment he touched the stones, he had activated an ancient bond between himself and Her. Ray had no idea how to sever that bond.
“Why are you telling us all this?” Admiral Conway asked, pulling Ray out of the train of thought he was about to crash into a collapsed tunnel.
“I want to survive.”
“Not a good place to be then, you devil spawn,” Ga’an growled but kept his distance as a stare from Admiral Conway.
“Stop it, Mr. Ga’an.”
“You have no idea how to battle the Devourer,” Sim’Ra smiled.
“And you want your life spared in return.”
Sim’Ra didn’t reply.
“Why not run away?” Ray asked. “Go and live in a secluded place, or another plane.”
“And miss the chance to witness the battle of two eternal powers? I am not a coward, Mr. Harris. I am an opportunist. If the opportunity arises to see the Devourer perish, I will take it. She and her masters are responsible for my race’s extinction.”
“You expect pity?” Ray asked in a chilling tone. “You expect mercy?”
“I expect intelligence.” Sim’Ra turned his stare to Ray, his dark eyes sucking Ray’s self-confidence. “You will all die in a matter of days, perhaps, and I have the means to prevent that from happening. If you can outsmart the setbacks of your race and its impulsive rage, you may save yourselves. Killing me will give you what? Killing all my people gave you what?”
“Satisfaction,” Ga’an replied.
“And what will it give when the Devourer arrives? Joy? Regret?” Sim’Ra turned to look at Admiral Conway without a word, and the admiral sighed. “I can take you to the Temple of Amasshan and show it to you.”
“What is that?” Admiral Conway narrowed her stare. “And how do you even know where we are?” Admiral Conway asked.
Sim’Ra smiled. “I do not mean any disrespect, but you are a primitive race. Even if Temple of Amasshan were right behind that door, you would not notice it. I know exactly where you are. How do you think that transport found its way here? Do you think it was your daughter’s knowledge of cartography?”
Balance of Power: The Blackened Prophecy Book 2 Page 6
