Afterworld

by Lynnette Lounsbury

  The screams were deafening. Dom turned towards her in surprise. Animals? How had she found animals? Then he realised with horror he was going to have to fight them. The crowd parted and a heavy covered wagon was rolled into the ring. There were muffled thuds and hisses from inside and the occasional piercing scream like a wild cat. He shuddered. He had never even entertained the thought of fighting an animal. Where would he begin?

  The crowd was frenzied, trying to push forward against the guards and the Boss screeched at them to get back or she would have them thrown out. It had only a slight effect; they stopped pushing, but they didn’t calm. Walking towards the wagon with exaggerated ceremony, she pulled a lever on the side and the door fell open like a ramp, flicking dust into the air and silencing the crowd. The interior was dark and Dom couldn’t see anything. People twisted themselves to peer inside, but for a moment there was silence and darkness. Nothing else.

  A sound like a wolf or a lion or something from a cave filled the air and a shadow hurtled out of the darkness at Dominic, its limbs clamping around him as it tried to rip out his throat. He felt sharp teeth sinking into his neck as he was flattened backwards onto the ground. Before he could begin to fight back another shape pulled at his legs, its teeth tearing at his flesh. He could see scaled skin from the corner of his eye and wondered if it was a crocodile. Terror filled him, like nothing he had ever felt. He was going to be torn into pieces, so many pieces he wouldn’t even be able to heal properly, he would be some sort of ripped carcass for the rest of time. He tried to find a space in his mind that knew what to do, but Eduardo’s experience held nothing about animals, except some image of a flying beast that Dom couldn’t quite get his mind to hold onto.

  Dom swung and rolled and slid along the ground with all the speed he had developed over the past weeks, but nothing rid him of the clinging creatures that were wrapped around him, that clawed at his head and attacked his throat. He grabbed the thin fabric wrapped around the creature on his front and pulled. It came away in his hands. The skin of the creature was scaled, but thin, like a snake rather than a crocodile, but when he pulled at the appendage wrapped around him he felt fingers and a hand. He cringed. Some sort of hybrid creature? Some sort of human and . . . as soon as the word human formed in his mind he knew what they were. Glass addicts. Humans that had changed. He felt sick. There was no defeating these things cleanly. He would have to tear them apart. He didn’t want to destroy anything, he had felt sick for days after his father had taken him on a hunting trip in Alaska and he shot a buck. His ability to kill extended only so far as tiny insects and he slowed slightly in his struggle as he tried to find a way to proceed. It was a mistake. The creature at his front took a wide and powerful bite of his throat, closing sharp and jagged broken teeth over his windpipe and shaking back and forth like a dog.

  Dom couldn’t breathe. He held back the panic and tried to relax, allowing his hands to fight for him and his body to heal as it was still being bitten, but the lack of air was slowing his mind. His eyes began to fog over. The creature on his back reached a hand around and tried to gouge his eyes. The thought of blindness panicked Dom immediately, and he struggled futilely, his arms widening in their swings and his legs thrashing in the dust. He felt himself losing consciousness, the yellow light of the room blurring and the throaty purring growl of the creatures fading.

  And then he was pulled free and swung bodily away from the creatures. His eyes were still blurred and he couldn’t see what had happened. Someone’s thick, strong arm was around his torso, holding him away from the creatures that had turned their attention to the newcomer. The crowd had completely ceased its screams and people were twisting and scrambling against each other in the dust, trying to see. The only sound was the shrieking of the creatures and then the clicking grind as first one neck and then the other were crushed by the hand of his rescuer. His eyes were slow to heal, the lack of air made his entire body sluggish. It had to be Eduardo.

  He was dragged away from the crowd and shoved towards the stairs. Behind him he could hear the grovelling apologies of the Boss and he saw the gambling bookie pushing past the crowd to deliver his satchel and hourglass. He pulled it over his head and struggled up the stairs, using his hands to help him in the dark. Occasionally he was shoved from behind by Eduardo’s foot and he knew from the Angel’s silence that he was in for a lecture when he reached the daylight.

  Dom was surprised to find there was in fact no daylight left when he reached the surface; the day had faded into the night and the diffuse lights of the City had transformed it into a gothic candy wonderland. He took a deep breath, finally feeling fully healed, and turned to explain himself to Eduardo. He gazed instead into the snarling face of Satarial, who looked at him with disgust.

  ‘What?’ Dom stepped back in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Protecting my Trials from your stupidity,’ he said softly and without emotion. ‘They would have strung your body parts from the roof and who would come and see the Trials if you had been beaten already by Glassers? You are a stupid child. But you are to be my trophy. Not theirs.’ The Nephilim stood watching him, an expression on his face that Dom had not seen. Apprehension perhaps.

  ‘What else? You didn’t come here for that.’ Dom knew what it had to be. ‘Kaide. Is she okay? You haven’t . . .’

  The Nephilim’s face was beside his, so close he could feel the cold heat that radiated from the pale flesh. ‘I have done nothing to hurt her and would not.’ He stepped back. ‘But I can do no more for her. I could heal her for a while, but it has been two days and she is ill. Dying. I cannot save her.’ He paced erratically, sighing and biting at his fingernails. ‘I didn’t expect this.’

  ‘What? That you would have to deal with the consequences of playing some sort of god? Really?’ The adrenalin from the fights was still surging through him, melting into rage.

  ‘I didn’t know . . . I didn’t know . . .’ The tall creature slumped. ‘I didn’t know she would be like this.’

  The anger in Dom cooled instantly. Satarial had expected a hostage, a bargaining piece to force Dom into his game, his vengeance against a system he hated. But what he had got was Kaide. And Dom understood better than anyone what that meant. His sister was a drug to people like him – unhappy, angry people who couldn’t bear the injustice of life. Because she refused to hate it.

  Satarial looked at him. ‘I saw her. In your thoughts. Laughing. It was strange. I don’t remember anyone ever laughing like that. As though there was nothing else except that laugh. You will have to go back and end her life.’

  ‘No.’ Dom shook his head. ‘No. I won’t. I will go back and save her life and then she can live again. Down there. Life. Not here with you.’

  ‘Is that supposed to convince me to tell you how to return? I should just do it myself.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you? Why haven’t you already? You obviously can’t. Too much Glass, is that it? It will burn you if you go through it again?’ Dom could see he had hit the mark. ‘How did you go through in the first place? Tell me. If you care about her, and I think you actually do, then you’ll tell me.’

  The Nephilim was torn and Dom continued. ‘Why did you go back? Did you think you could live again? That obviously didn’t work.’

  ‘No, it did not,’ Satarial spat. ‘I did my time here. I did all of it and the Awe returned me to this City. So I found out how to go back. But it was too late. My time had gone. The Great Ones were gone. My people were gone. Even the Angelus were gone. It was just humans and they were weak and useless humans. The Fire and the Flood destroyed everything that was once great. Noyach and Simeon, the great rescuers, had saved only simple humans and small animals and left the rest to die. You cannot understand what life was in my time, Dominic Mathers, because you have always lived in that buzzing hive of insects. Why do you think I despise these people so much? Weak, pathetic and still they come here as though they are our equals. You come here – a child – as though we b
elong in the same place. I am thousands of years old, Dominic Mathers. I am hybrid. They should all suffer as I have suffered.’

  Dom ignored the tirade. ‘Could you have stayed if you wanted to?’

  ‘No.’ He sighed. ‘I wasn’t alive. I could move around, I could even interact with some people, but it was not living. You will see. And you become weak very quickly and have to return. I sent others and they did not return at all. You will do it for your sister, but no one else would risk it. And you will still compete in the Trials.’ The Nephilim tried to look threatening but mostly he looked tired. His ice-blue eyes were pink-rimmed with fatigue and his brow creased with hostility. He grabbed Dominic’s arm and waited until Dom nodded slightly before placing his palm down on Dom’s darker one. Again Dom felt the white-heat of the connection and his mind fused to the Nephilim’s. This time the flow went both ways and he saw glimpses of the other creature’s life, a wildly beautiful world full of bright light and warmth. Satarial rapidly shielded them and directed Dom’s mind to what he needed to see.

  When he had finished the Nephilim pulled his hand away as though it had been burned, staring at his palm. He bit his pale lip until it turned red.

  ‘I can only keep her alive a little longer. Not even until the Trials. Either you come with me now and say your goodbyes to her, or you go to the Glass and save her.’

  Dom saw how difficult it was for him to be powerless, and remained silent. He nodded, then he turned and ran, his feet blurred with speed, the pale light of the Nephilim fading into the night behind him.

  He reached the Glass faster than he expected and saw its pale shimmer in the darkening night. It lit a small crescent of rocky shore and he stood for a moment, steeling himself against the soft growls and shrill screeches that came from the surrounding dark. Dotted around the edge were Glassers, ignoring the dangerous dark and leaning out over their obsession. He carefully dropped his satchel to the ground and pulled out his dagger. It was small but sharp. He stepped as close as he dared to the liquid and held his arm out as he had seen in the Nephilim’s memory. Running the blade up his arm he split the skin and the narrow artery that ran its length. Hot blood dripped, slowly at first, and then in a flood down his arm and into the Glass. It hissed and the Glass retreated like oil, pulling itself away from the broadening pool of blood. It grew larger as Dom felt weaker, his mind struggling to focus as more of his blood fell.

  ‘Don’t.’

  He turned his head quickly, keeping his arm exactly where it was.

  Eva stood behind him, her hands on her knees, panting from the exertion of chasing after him, her face tight. ‘Don’t. Whatever he told you to do, it will kill you, Dom. Really kill you this time. The Glass takes everything.’

  He tilted his head in apology, hoping she could understand. ‘Kaide.’

  ‘He’s lying to you. Please.’

  Dom ran the knife up the length of his arm again so that it would not heal. ‘No, he’s not. Not this time. I can save her.’ The pool of blood was large enough now and he turned back to the edge, ready to enter.

  ‘I . . . want . . .’ Eva’s voice was strangled.

  He couldn’t turn. If he did, he would never be able to go through with it. He would have melted into her. He took a step and let himself fall through the circle of blood in the Glass. The liquid wrapped around him, swallowed him and he fell.

  7

  Dominic’s Hourglass

  2336 Minutes

  It was a strange sensation, falling through the thick and viscous liquid that pressed around him and burned at his skin, holding him tight. The light was swirling and he tried to focus his mind on where he wanted to be. He felt a slow change in the pressure, the liquid thinning to air, and at the same time he began to smell the rich and pungent smells of the real world again. They assaulted him, tingling in his nose, the air stinging his eyes and noises getting louder. Life flooded him; so much sensation after the austerity of the Necropolis that he could barely focus. Kaide. He tried to visualise her face.

  Dom found himself on a floor, hunched, his jeans ripped from the fight and his cloak twisted around his bare chest. He felt close to tears, the emotions that filled him were almost unbearable. He was back. He was in life. He closed his eyes and felt the smooth tiles beneath his feet; they were warm and scratched and dirty. He could smell the dirt. He breathed deeply, sensing cigarette smoke and cooked meat and antiseptic. It blended into a messy scent that made it hard to think. Somewhere he could smell the wet fur of a dog and the aroma tugged at him. Animals. He heard a laugh somewhere nearby, car tyres screeching, honking, people shouting at each other in an unintelligible fog of noise. His mind flooded with it all and he remembered the messiness of being alive, how difficult it was to think clearly. He opened his eyes and looked at his feet, pushing his hands against the floor. The room was white, but the vividness of the colour swirling and blazing around him resembled a drug-addled trip. The golden light through the small window above warmed his skin, the patches on the wall where the paint was chipped had a faint blue tinge and the wooden legs of the chair in the corner were such a rich brown that they shimmered.

  He squinted to see clearly and found his eyesight wasn’t as strong; things seemed thicker, foggier than in the Necropolis. He tried to stand and felt dizzy and weak. He wondered if he had always felt this weak and frail, fragile. The muscles in his legs twitched with the effort. Had he become accustomed to being dead? To healing instantly and feeling very little? Was this being alive, this weakness? He leaned his back against the nearest wall and used it to help him stand.

  As he did so he saw a woman sitting in a chair. She was staring at him, her eyes unmoving and her mouth pressed tightly. She could see him; that was clear. He untwisted his cloak and wrapped it across the front of his chest so that he didn’t seem so ridiculous. Opening his mouth he found his voice was raspy, worn.

  She held up a hand, raising it from where it had been gripping the armrest of the chair.

  ‘Dominic?’

  He squinted at her. It wasn’t his mother. He tried to remember if he knew her.

  ‘Dominic? Is that you?’

  ‘Yes.’ He forced out a whisper. He reached out to steady himself and grasped a railing. He turned to see what it was and found a bed. A hospital bed. His mind cleared slightly. He looked at the figure in the bed and then the scrawled slate above it. Kade. He leaned over her and examined the face before him. It was not the Kaide he had seen in the Afterworld, this was a broken doll. Her hair had grown in places, but it was patchy and her pale scalp showed through. The scar over her face had faded since he had last seen it, but he hadn’t noticed before that it masked a sunken, broken face. He winced in spite of himself. She looked horrific; her mouth, pulled up by the scar, was closed around a tube that fed into her lungs, puffing air into her chest. The screen beside her bed flickered with different colours and lights.

  ‘Kaide?’ he whispered to her. There was no response. A sharp pain started at the back of his head, a migraine sweeping up his skull and making it hard to think. And he needed to think. What did she want him to do? Hold a pillow over her face and smother her? He knew he couldn’t do that. Inject some kind of poison? He had heard that injecting air could kill someone. Again he knew he couldn’t do it. Would turning off the machine be enough? He reached out and touched her skin. The feeling seared into him, the heat of her flesh, the sensation in his own skin so strong it vibrated up his arm. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the feeling – connecting with life. It was electric.

  ‘Dominic? Why are you here?’ The woman in the chair spoke again. She sounded as though she had calmed herself slightly and Dom focused on her clearly for the first time. The long dark hair with its few grey streaks, twisted into a chic roll. The doctor’s coat and those deep, sad eyes.

  ‘Angie?’ Dom struggled to say the name. His throat stung as though it had been burned by smoke. The more he breathed the thick, sultry air the more it hurt.

  ‘Dominic. I saw
your body. I . . . checked your body. You were dead.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you dead, Dominic?’

  ‘Yes. I am.’

  She sat back in her chair and exhaled. Dom wondered at people who accepted this sort of information so easily.

  ‘It’s been a long time, Dominic. Nearly a year. Your mother comes in every day, but she has already been in today.’

  ‘She’s okay?’ He scratched out the sounds.

  ‘Yes. Surprisingly, she is. She . . . she woke up.’ Angie slowly stood. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I have to . . .’ He hesitated, watching Kaide and feeling queasy. The pain in his head was moving towards his temples. He looked back at Angie. ‘I have to do something.’

  ‘What do you mean? Do you want me to pass on a message or something?’ She was moving closer and Dom felt a sense of panic. He glanced at the machine again. He didn’t know how to turn it off anyway. There would be an alarm. What if dozens of doctors rushed in to save her? What if they could all see him? A message. The words sank through the pain in his head and he glanced back at her. His eyes were burning.

  ‘A message. For someone alive you mean?’

  ‘Yes. Is that why you are here? You’ve come back from somewhere.’

  ‘From the City. All the people who die. Or some of the people who die. In the City.’ He was incoherent, his mind hurt and his hands were shaking. He looked at Kaide again, at the machine. There was still a chance she could survive and live. How could he kill her if there was a chance?

  Angie grasped at his arm and found it was solid. The touch was rough and hot. ‘All the dead? My daughter, is my daughter . . .’ She gripped harder on his arm.

  It was too hard to explain the way it all worked, the way time frayed and twisted. ‘Is there a chance Kaide will wake up? Be okay?’

  Angie shook his arm, not wanting to let go of her question. ‘Kaide? Oh, Dom. I don’t believe there is. I’m sorry. Her brain is not responding at all. I don’t believe she will ever even breathe on her own again. I’m very sorry.’