Dependent Days

by Chris Sapp

  "No, I don't think so,” she said, turning her back on Escobar. She motioned for two bodyguards to collect the wolf.

  "No…Vi you can't do this!" shouted Escobar.

  "Okay," she said facing Escobar once more, "I'll make you a deal."

  "What is this? I chose the Crucible. You have to let me volunteer. It's the law. Tell her, Driskell."

  Vi readied herself. Waiting for Roe, to challenge her decision. What she was doing was illegal and they both new it. But he wouldn’t just be challenging Vi’s decision, he’d be challenging Lord Slade’s. Another fact they both knew.

  "I don't make the rules." Roe said. His hands never left his pockets. He saw disappointment flicker across Vi’s face. She had hoped for more of a fight. Nice try bitch, Roe thought.

  "No, you just enforce them,” Escobar snarled and the he turned his attention back to Vi, "What are your terms vampyr?”

  "They're simple enough." Vi retrieved a ziplock bag full of Shadowpaw pills from her pocket. "I'm going to place this on the floor and if you can grab it in three minutes time, it’s yours."

  "Bullshit. That's too easy,” scoffed Escobar. Roe scowled. The wolf was right. The deal wasn't as good as it sounded. But Roe was willing to bet that Escobar hadn't seen very many people detox so he didn't know what was coming. Roe had seen plenty so he knew what was coming and judging by the smile on Vi’s face, she did too.

  "Two minutes and fifty-nine seconds." Vi said after dropping the bag of morphagens on the floor and setting her watch.

  Escobar tried to stand but his legs failed him and he tumbled to the floor. To his credit, he didn't waste time trying to figure out why his legs wouldn't work. He just began to pull himself across the floor with his front paws. He was so focused on reaching the bag of morphagens, that he didn't notice when one of his claws snapped off in the grooves between the tiles.

  "One minute and forty-one seconds,” Vi said.

  Roe compared the distance Escobar had already traveled with the time remaining and decided that not only could he make, he might even have time to spare. Then the poor bastard had a seizure. His bald head hammered the floor repeatedly. Blood and spittle spattered the white marble. His tail whipped the air like an unmanned fire hose. Escobar's flesh started to ripple like water. Large boils began to appear on his back and chest. These boils grew until they burst, squirting yellow pus into the air. One glob missed two of the faeries by less than an inch. Vi laughed.

  Roe had witnessed hundreds of addicts detox and all of them had one thing in common that truly perplexed him. It wasn't the pus, even though there was always pus. It wasn't the creepy skin rippling thing. That always happened too. What perplexed him about every single detox he had ever witnessed was the look in their eyes. It was always the same. Shock.

  As if they couldn't believe that this was actually happening to them. No addict since the invention of morphagens had detoxed and avoided enslavement. But these desperate souls had somehow convinced themselves that their fate would be different. It was both pathetic and sad. You only had two choices in life; addiction or enslavement.

  "Twenty-eight seconds,” said Vi.

  When Escobar's seizure ended all that remained was a large fleshy cocoon. It pulsed with life and pus pooled on the tile beneath it. Primo Escobar was somewhere inside that sac of flesh and when he emerged his body would be hairless and severely deformed just like all the other slaves. Roe was glad Vi had opened the doors because now the stench truly was offensive.

  "Three-seconds...two-seconds...time." Vi said, lowering her watch. She kicked the bag of morphagens with her boot, and then caught it in mid air.

  The bodyguards cantered forward and scooped up Escobar's cocoon with a net and carried it off. Before they were even out of the room, the four faeries were scrubbing Primo's detox residue off the floor.

  "Step forward, Driskell,” Vi commanded.

  Roe obeyed, giving Primo's expelled fluids a wide birth.

  “That makes nine-hundred and ninety-nine strays. One more and your debt will be paid,” Vi said. “Any plans for retirement?”

  Roe knew exactly what he was going to do once his debt was paid. But he had no desire to discuss it with her. Vi fetched his payment from her vest and handed it over. Six hundred credits. Roe knew that he should turn and leave. But his feet were frozen. Escobar’s bounty had been for a thousand credits. The bitch was cheating him.

  "Is there a problem, Driskell?" Vi asked, glaring at him. Roe glared right back.

  "Primo's bounty was a thousand,” Roe said.

  "It was until I saw that Escobar was half way to detox. Not to mention the mace burn on his snout,” Vi said.

  “All irrelevant. What matters is that I collared him,” Roe said.

  “Any bounty hunter can deliver damaged goods. I expect more from the legendary Roe Driskell.”

  Roe clenched his jaw and his hand involuntarily closed into a fist. Vi saw it. Again she readied herself. Every fiber of his being was screaming to unleash his wrath on her. But beating the vampyr within an inch of her life would accomplish nothing other than bringing Slade’s wrath down upon his own head. Which would end their arrangement. He was one stray away from freedom. One stray away from starting his new life.

  "Understood, ma’am.” Roe said and then he turned and strolled out of the office. He could feel her eyes watching him the whole way.

  KARIAH

  THE SEVEN MORPHAGENS produced by Slade Enterprises were manufactured in the company lab. Everything else was grown in Kariah Slade’s garden. She called it a garden because that was the easiest and simplest way to describe it. But in truth, it was two acres of Centropolis’s most fertile soil where she could manipulate and evolve nature until her heart was content and she did. There was a field of flowering plants that always had fresh blooms no matter what time of year it was. These beautiful creations weren’t just for show, they could literally take your breath away and leave you gasping for air. A single blade from the field of pampas grass was sharp enough to sever a limb. Electric eels, ogre devouring piranha, and two-headed water moccasins swam side by side in the pond. Kariah even had a forest. In fact, that’s where she was headed now at a full gallop, all four of her hooves thundering against the dirt. She had to hurry because the damage caused by a berserk Blood oak could be catastrophic.

  The burning in her chest and the stitch in her side were painful indicators of a neglected body. She used to run every day, even during her pregnancy. Not only did her physicians approve of it, they encouraged it. She only stopped because Magnus had blamed their son’s birth defects on her vanity. But the truth was one in every ten children were born with severe birth defects. Most of these were simply sold into slavery. Payment coming in the form of morphagens or the next best thing credits. But not the son of the great Magnus Slade, no self-respecting Drug lord fathered a defective offspring so Magnus had ordered her to use her bio-engineered Venus Flytraps to dispose of the child. Originally she had designed the carnivorous plants as an obstacle course for The Crucible. She never dreamed that her little monsters would feed on anything other than criminals, especially not her own child. If no self-respecting Drug lord could father a defective offspring, then no self-respecting mother could murder her own child and not deserve to join it. But Blair Hawkins, her lead chemist, had come to her rescue. He’d smuggled the child off planet and taken him to Terra Gigas, the slave capital of the galaxy. Slavery was a hard life but it was better than being murdered by your own mother.

  Kariah arrived to screams of pain and the cracking of tree limbs flooding out of the dense forest. But what drew her attention were the four centaurs armed with flame throwers lingering at the edge of the tree line.

  “Put those weapons down and follow me,” she said.

  “Forgive me Lady Slade,” said the black stallion, “but lending aid isn’t part of our mandate.”

  “And what exactly was Lord Slade’s mandate?” she asked.

  “Containment. At all cost,
ma’am.”

  Her hands clenched into fists and she had to resist the urge to strike him. It wasn’t his fault. He was just following orders. They all were. These stallions didn’t work in the forest. They worked for her husband. Which meant that their first priority was the morphagens, all others were secondary.

  “I see,” she said and then she turned towards the path that lead into the forest.

  “I would advise against going in there, Lady Slade,” warned the stallion.

  “Well, unlike some. I choose to live my life by morals not mandates.” Without another word, she turned and galloped into the forest. She didn’t know which Blood oak had gone berserk but all she had to do was follow the sounds of death and destruction. The dirt path was narrow and she stepped aside every time she saw physicians leading injured workers out of the forest. Seeing the blood on their white lab coats gave the knots in her stomach knots. She knew these were the fortunate ones. Kariah forced herself back onto the path and trotted deeper into the forest. With each step the treetops seemed to grow thicker, blocking the warm rays of Centropolis’ sun, turning the forest into a dark and eerie place.

  When she finally reached the tree her heart sank and tears filled her eyes. It was worse than she had imagined. The blood oak that had gone haywire wasn’t a sapling it was a mature adult tree, one of the originals. After the start of the Morphagen War, Durga Zane needed to improve the security around her drug labs. So, the Giant had commissioned Wain Shelley, former lead chemist for Slade Enterprises and Kariah’s mentor, to design a less obvious form of security. One that invading armies wouldn’t suspect. Wain’s solution had been motion-sensitive Blood oak trees. The trees were engineered to be dependent on blood not just water and sunlight. Then the trees were deprived of blood and when an invading army came passing through and one of them happened to be injured from a previous battle the blood would trigger the trees into action. Naturally, the invaders would try to fight back and this would cause further bloodshed which would in turn only ignite the tree’s instincts to feed more. Which was exactly what was happening in the forest. Only the victims impaled on the large oak tree’s countless limbs weren’t trespassers…they were slaves and lab technicians. Some limbs had three or four bodies hanging from their blood soaked branches. It was horrible. Kariah had never personally witnessed the devastation caused by the blood frenzy trees. She knew they worked because there had only been a handful labs that were never sacked during the entire Morphagen War and Durga’s blood oak protected lab was one of them.

  Guilt twisted Kariah’s stomach and she vomited onto a fallen tree.

  “You cut your hair,” said a familiar voice. When she looked up she saw Blair Hawkins smiling at her. Smiling. Only Blair could smile at time like this. He was a blonde haired Centaur with a chiseled physique and dark framed spectacles.

  “It looks nice, love,” he said, as if her new haircut was more important than a berserk Blood Oak tree. There was no sign of distress in his voice. It was soothing and calm. He sounded the same now as he did when they chitchatted on pruning days. She’d always figured he was so laid back because he was a chemist. But now she realized he was always level-headed. But he was right. She had cut her hair. Actually, she had cut it off. Her hair had once been long enough to touch the hide on her back but now it didn’t even touch her ears. It was dramatically different and everyone noticed. The fact that Blair had taken the time to compliment her during the middle of a crisis, caused her cheeks to flush and her heart to flutter. Something Magnus hadn’t managed to accomplish in a long time. She had relocated to a guest bedroom at Slade Mansion after the incident with her child. But that hadn’t stopped Magnus from finding her or visiting, especially in the middle of the night, when he was drunk and aroused. His visits were frequent and harsh. Could she call it rape, if the offender was her own husband? Whatever it was, it wasn't lovemaking and so far it had yielded no results. But she would get pregnant again and what if that one was defective too? How many times could she fail him? All men want an heir to pass their legacy down to but Magnus was motivated by power. Daedalus Shaw, the Czar, had tasked him with providing a suitable heir and the interim wouldn’t be lifted from his title until he did so. Providing Magnus with an heir was important. But was saving the Slade Empire more important than saving their marriage? Was it more important than her soul? It certainly seemed that way to her husband.

  “Thank you,”she said, noticing the gleam of sweat on Blair’s rippling muscles. “Is that a neutralizing compound?” She asked forcing her brain to acknowledge the vial in his hand. It was filled with a blue liquid.

  “It is. Unfortunately, it has to be applied to the base of the tree for it to work,” he sighed as he looked up at the nightmarish tree. Death hovered around the towering oak like a heavy fog. Bodies hung from the branches like ornaments on a Christmas tree. Blood dripped from its branches and ran down it’s gnarled trunk that had been twisted almost to the breaking point by the tree’s relentless pursuit of blood. The only thing living inside the oak tree’s drip line was the tree itself. Attempting to reach the base was nothing short of suicide.

  “Okay, so what’s your plan?” Kariah asked.

  “You’re not going to like it, love,”he said.

  “ I suspect you’re right. But I want to hear it anyway.”

  “Okay,” he sighed. “The tree reacts to blood right? So, we need to distract it long enough for me to administer the neutralizing agent.”

  “You’re right. I don’t like it. But I like the idea of Magnus’ minions burning my forest to the ground even less. Who’s the distraction?”

  “I would recommend them,” Blair said, pointing at a group of slave workers that had gathered together. They looked as frightened as everyone else. Slave or not, the idea of ordering someone to their death, churned Kariah’s stomach so fiercely that she felt like throwing up again. But Blair was right. If lives had to be sacrificed then it should be the lives of people that had less to lose. They had broken the laws of society and were condemned to a lifetime of slavery.

  “How many do we need?” she asked.

  “I think four will be enough.”

  “Let’s make it five,” she said, hardening her heart and committed herself fully to Blair’s plan. She leaped over the fallen log and cantered over to the group of slaves. They had been talking amongst themselves but fell silent once she was standing before them.

  “You three and you two, come with me.” She picked her five sacrifices quickly and without discrimination. She knew if she thought about it too much, she’d lose her nerve and Magnus’ men would burn her precious forest to ash. When she returned to Blair, he was holding a large dagger. She watched as he surveyed the five slaves, looking each one in the eye.

  “They say it’s easier to destroy than to create,” Blair said, “ in this instance, I’m not sure that’s true. But this tree needs to be destroyed and what I hold in my hand is the key.” He held the vial up for all of them to see. The sun was starting to set and the blue liquid sparkled in the dying light.

  “I don’t know how many lives this tree has already taken,” he continued, “but if it’s going to be stopped, it will probably take five more…yours.” His eyes never left theirs as he let the weight of his words settle on their misshaped shoulders. She didn’t know what Blair was going to say to them but she certainly hadn’t expected him to tell the truth. She thought he was going to lie, because that’s what most people would’ve done. Hell, that’s what she would’ve done. But Blair wasn’t the type to shy away from the truth no matter how ugly it was and she admired him for it.

  “What do you need?” asked one of the slaves. He had one eye slightly off center on his forehead and four well-muscled arms. He was easily the biggest amongst them.

  “Cut yourself with this dagger,” Blair said, offering the weapon to the slave, “then distract the tree long enough for me to neutralize it.”

  Cyclops took the dagger and carved a long groove across the length o
f his bare chest. Kariah noticed that he had three nipples on his left pectoral and none on his right. Detox had ravaged every square inch of his body. The next slave standing in line had three eyes, each one a different color. He took the dagger and cut a similar wound across his own chest. Three Eyes passed the dagger down the line. This slave was female and she stood on four strong legs that extended out from her torso like Crab legs. She looked at Blair and then down at the dagger in her hand. She was scared. Who could blame her? Blair’s words had sounded more like a plea for help than an order. But it was an order all the same and any slave that disobeyed an order was put to death. Crab Legs knew that, so she quickly slashed each of her shoulders open and then passed the dagger along.

  “Thank you,” Kariah said.

  Crab Legs’ only response was a curt nod. The next slave in line had webbed-feet and hands. Kariah recognized him as one of the pond maintenance workers. He added his blood to the blade by slicing open his thigh. The fifth slave was another female and her long pointy ears might lead you to believe that she had once been an elf. But the side effects of detox were so cruel that it was really impossible to say for sure. Pointy ears drew the blade across her chest and then handed it back to Blair. He wiped the five slaves blood off on a nearby leaf and then sheathed the blade.

  “Alright. The tree may appear calm right now. But don’t let that fool you. Once it senses your blood, it will attack,” said Blair.

  “So what’s the plan?” asked Cyclops. He was very brave and seemed eager to help. Kariah wondered what circumstances had happened in his life that forced him to detox. Maybe he hand’t been detoxed at all. Maybe he had been born defective and his parents had shipped him to Terra Gigas with shame.

  “I want you to approach the tree from the North,” Blair answered, “and you’ll approach from the West,” he told Pointy Ears.