by Bonds, Javan
☠☠☠
Mortimer sat up. The padding he was laying on could have never been considered anything close to a bed or mattress. Someone with a more positive outlook, definitely not him, might be able to call it a knapsack or sleeping bag. Though no one listened, he’d complained about it in the beginning. The greatest generation shouldn’t have to sleep on the damn floor!
Regardless of the birth era of anyone in The Nash, all were treated equally. It goes without saying, equally meant poorly. Less than meaningless, keeping servants breathing couldn’t even be considered treatment. Their lives were simply extended at the whim of their Emperor.
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“Did you hear?” After a slow shake of the head from Mortimer, he turned to his closest neighbor. “I bloody know what happens to people that get severely injured or killed on the job!”
It was strange to hear a British accent. Later, Paul Rawlings would tell his story to Mortimer. He was just a tourist, coming to explore the Country Music Hall Of Fame and Grand Ole Opry with a group of friends. “Wrong place, wrong time.” was his way of summing it up.
Shouting while whispering, Paul continued. “I saw one of The Hand carrying a garbage bag to one of the trash trucks for compaction. When he went to throw the bag in, it caught on something hanging out the maw and ripped. Everything spilled out’ve the damn thing. And it wasn’t trash. Guess what it was?” Not sure if the Englishman just asked him a question or made a command, he simply shrugged.
“Bones, for Chrissakes! And not just any bones. A bloody human skeleton! More than one.” Paul corrected himself. “Maybe not actually entire skeletons, but I saw at least three or four intact skulls. And they were completely clean. Like someone peeled the meat from them. Like from a museum!”
Scowling, the old man grumbled. “Well, maybe they were from a museum.”
The British tourist defended himself. “They look too new! Like they were just picked clean.”
“So you’re saying..?”
“I’m saying The Hand is eating people!”
Mortimer had to chuckle morosely. “If they’re eating people that are already dead, what’s wrong with that? They just ain’t being wasteful. Besides, prove it.”
Rawlings raised a finger, reached deep into his pocket, and pulled something from it. He held his fist out, clutching something small. Clearly, he was waiting for the other to extend his palm. After a few seconds of contemplation, Mortimer did so. Something dropped into his hand. It was small and white. After rolling it in his fingers, he knew exactly what it was. A molar.
His cheek twitched. “That don’t mean shit. It could be yours for all I know.”
“Well, it’s not.” Paul pulled back both his cheeks and opened his mouth, exposing every one of his teeth attached.
“It’s somebody else’s.” The geriatric brushed him off.
“You think anybody’d just let me take their tooth?”
Mortimer snorted. “Even if they are eating dead people, why the hell you think I care?”
The Brit narrowed his eyes. “I just thought you might be a damn human being. Excuse me!”
Not missing a beat, the other returned. “You’re excused. Now, what the hell you gonna do about it anyway?”
Paul whispered flatly. “I’m starting a coup. Whether you want to help me or not, I’m spreading the word... and we are gonna rise up. I’ve got nothing to live for anyway. Never gonna see Jule, William, or Abi again. Even if they’re still alive, they’re on the other side of the ocean. I think we can stir up enough unrest among the peasants. What do ya say?”
Mortimer Lester contemplated for a moment, finally wheezing. “Nah. I think I’ll let you younger people do all the revolting. I’ll just sit back and watch.” And I can use your little rebellion as a distraction when I make my break for it!
☠☠☠
4
Schemers
“Oh, and do you think the church members would like some Asian food?” Even with his spur of the moment preventative measures, he was still losing a ridiculous amount of blood. Simultaneously giggling hysterically and painfully sobbing, Brother Mike Brown sank to his knees.
Colors inverted as everything faded to black and white, then it all turned blurry. As quickly as his vision faded, it cleared once more, then disappeared again. What the goddamn? Why’s this happening to me? What’d I ever do to deserve this?
Who spilled all this motor oil? Why’s it smell like batteries? Where’s Lauren? Think I’m hungry! It’s cold.
“Mike! What the fuck happened to–"
Fading in and out of consciousness, he only caught snippets.
“Just stay with me.
I have some–
Blackness.
If I can stop the–
Blackness again.
What happened to that male–“
☠☠☠
The Alpha jammed a needle into her arm. Wasting no time, she did the same to The Wolf. B negative may have been her blood type, but she knew Mike was AB positive. He could accept from any donor. The impromptu transfusion started and appeared to be succeeding. At least in that, it was getting blood into her husband.
While the plasma left her arm, she opened an emergency suture kit and did what she could to sew up her pale betrothed. “You know, if all this works, you fucking owe me, you piece of shit.” Kissing her fingers softly, she brought them down onto his, warming his yet still bone white cheek.
☠☠☠
“Lauren?” the supposed temporary replacement for The Man of God spoke from his supine position.
After some straining, she finally got him onto a table. Not close to a pillowed mattress, but it was the best he was going to get for the moment. Though still pale, he appeared to be coming back from the brink of death. Her training as a nurse practitioner paid off.
It only took leaning over, after just checking his blood pressure, to enter his field of vision. “I’m here, baby. I thought I was going to lose you. What happened?”
Mike took a ragged breath. “Right after you left, it woke up. I was about to stun the thing when that fucking chink cop broke down the door. Wood chipper kind of drowned out the sound until he was inside. Busted my fucking CO2 canister.” As an afterthought, his eyes flicked down to his bandaged stump. “And he cut my goddamn arm off!”
“That’s horrible! But why was he in the backyard? Law enforcement doesn’t just snoop around on unsuspecting citizens around here, do they?”
“Guess so. No reason for him to be here.” Neither understood why a man pledged to serve would barge into a private home without cause.
“Was it making noise?
Not really succeeding, he shrugged. “Maybe, I wasn’t paying attention.”
The Alpha raised an eyebrow, wanting to chide him for being unobservant. “Well, still...Even if it was screaming, he had to be on the property to hear it. Bastard...I can’t find your arm.” In answer, he moved his eyes down to the dripping wheelbarrow at the mouth of the wood chipper.
She raised her chin, understanding. “And what happened to the policeman?” Again, his gaze traveled to the same slop filled container.
“Good news. Not only do we have extra meat to feed those fucktards at the goddamn church; that slant-eyed peeping tom won’t be talking to anyone. At least no one will find out. No one can find out.” He rasped.
She inhaled hard through her nose. “Where did it go?” Her subject was obvious.
Wincing, he knew it was coming. “The cop cut it loose, and it got away. There was nothing I could do.”
Slamming her hands on the table, she exploded. “The fuck, Mike?”
“I couldn’t stop it, baby. You know I would have if there was any way!”
Lauren’s shoulders sagged. “Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve. Right? Like it fucking matters. We’re fucked! No one’s ever found out before. Those idiots’ll go fucking ape shit. They’ve been eating their own precious fucking rats. If they don’t just rip us apart right there
...” The Alpha tapered off into blubbering.
In his weak state, he attempted a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, babe. I have those goddamn Jesus freaks eating out of my fucking hand, anyway. If I’m feeding them, they won’t give a shit what it is. Hell, I could probably chop Jones’s goddamn arm off, cook it, then turn around and feed it to him. He’d thank me for the meal and ask for fucking seconds!” Pausing, he came close to a laugh when he noticed her loosen.
After a failed try at sitting up, she wedged a few towels under him, putting him close to forty-five degrees. “I can do this. I’m just the innocent goddamn saint doing the Lord’s work with the forces of evil getting in the way. Satan’s always trying to stop me. All that good shit... Devil’s using these lunatic survivalists to make up all these lies about me to try and keep me from bringing the truth to the children of God.”
Lauren scoffed. “Shit! You really think that’ll fly?”
“Fuck yeah, it will! You’ve seen these people, baby. They’ll do whatever I say. Jump off a cliff if I told them it was God’s will. I can turn it around, so the Mayor and his people are lying, murdering sadists. Motherfuckers! These stupid Christians will be chasing them off the goddamn island. They’ll kill for me!”
Though skeptical, she had witnessed the blind loyalty of the faithful on more than one occasion. It really could work. They think he’s goddamn gold! We could become the king and queen of this safe haven. There are just a few obstacles that must be removed first.
Realizing things were being directed as if part of a script, she smiled maniacally at The Wolf. “Could work. But what are you gonna tell them?”
Becoming more aware of the ache in his arm with each heartbeat, he grinned through the pain. “Oh, I think I have an idea...”
☠☠☠
5
The Pale Horse And His Rider
The city, formerly known as Nashville, Tennessee, was no longer the home of country music. Shortly after May Day, the city government collapsed. The dominant party rising from the ashes of the final war between the local gangs called themselves, The Black Hand. The racial ethnicity of members had nothing to do with the name. Those that swore allegiance to the new order took the tattoo of a darkened handprint over their heart, no matter their color, becoming members of The Hand. Those of the new Master power and their slaves referred to the metropolis only as “The Nash.” It was never clear if these new rulers just so happened to be in a position to wrest dictatorial hold after the fall into chaos, or if The Black Hand made the final push from the governing cliff. Either way, there was a new governor...president...king.
Only by chance was Reaca Fielder, the current lord of The Hand. Standing well below six feet tall, he wasn’t the typical black hood gangsta. With his background in US Naval Command, Reaca found it easy to convince every remaining criminal in the area to join forces under his heavy iron fist. He talked lifelong rivals into working together for a common goal, with Fielder at the top of the totem pole, of course.
If the truth had been told, he was never a member of any gang. He wasn’t a hardened criminal and had never even been arrested. The members of The Black Hand were never to realize this. If they discovered he was just your average mailman before the blue shit hit the fan, they would be the ones going postal. Having Navy tattoos was enough to give him a brutal look he tried putting off.
The Hand’s territory continued to expand daily, starting with only a few blocks. Over weeks and months, his peons had incrementally pushed the barriers of The Nash out block by block. When the walls reached their maximum limit, what would happen? Many of the lieutenants and lowly underlings had made speculations. Only Reaca knew what Reaca would do when the time came.
☠☠☠
Reaca’s erotically gorgeous piece of milk chocolate partner of short stature, but Amazonian like attitude; Nedra Sink, spoke to him as he walked into the kitchen of their gas generator-powered hotel suite. “The walls will be on the outside of the last block of downtown in the next day or so.”
He slowed his pace. “And?”
Sharply, Nedra didn’t miss a beat. “And what about all the workers?”
“What about them?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What will become of them when their services are no longer required?”
The despot shrugged. “Well, I can’t just put them down. I’m sure you’ve already got a plan.”
Sink threw her head back and laughed maniacally. “You know me too well!”
☠☠☠
Each was an avatar of The Dictator. Reaca also personified The Wolf, and unquestionably, Nedra was The Alpha. Though not as secretive of their taboo habits as were the Browns on Guntersville Island, not everyone knew of their strange customs. High-ranking members of The Hand were more than merely aware of what they did behind closed doors. Most were encouraged to partake.
Seemingly not as perverse as other incarnations might have been, these twisted rulers cannibalized any humans in a nondiscriminatory fashion. They didn’t try to convince those under their sway that their wickedry was commanded by God, they were just simply sick. To gain the complete loyalty of more than one around them, they did everything but demand and threaten they join in their barbarism. One meal was enough to gain the complete devotion of their underlings.
Since taking over The Nash, the couple hadn’t done any hunting, kidnapping, or even killing to procure their delicious prizes. They only collected workers that were lost in laboring accidents or enemies taken in the thick of warfare. As they saw it, meat was meat.
This seemingly inhuman ritual would’ve been unthinkable to either of them before the fall of man. Well, at least to Reaca. Sink was the driving force behind the cannibalistic throne. She enjoyed wielding Reaca as her weapon to commit atrocities, finding enjoyment from being in control; she could be as depraved as possible. The Alpha was willing to let others see The Wolf as a singular embodiment of The Dictator, but she knew deep down, who really carried the big stick.
☠☠☠
“I’m not stupid. Openly slaughtering them would not be a good idea. I’m not dealing with some kind of uprising. The two of us just need to take a nighttime stroll down to some of the barricades... inspect some of the equipment.” Nedra smirked.
No one even noticed them as their convoy sped down the empty streets to the edge of The Hand’s territory in the dead of night.
The frontline commander hesitantly questioned. “A stroll... alone?”
With a hiss, The Alpha corrected. “Of course not, fool! Our personal guards will be with us.”
Reaca cowered under her domineering stare. “Sounds like a winner, babe.” The Wolf could do nothing but follow The Alpha out the door as she snapped her fingers to call her subservient partner.
☠☠☠
6
That World Never Came
Paul Clay, the Department’s last remaining lab tech, came into the hall, speaking to Sarge. “We collected at least one apparent skull and some powdered material. There won’t be any DNA scans like we would’ve done before May Day, but it appears to be what we were told we would find. Bones of young humans. Chemical tests will be forthcoming.”
Grimly, Salzman nodded. “Good work, Clay. Not 100% fucking certain, but it goes without saying. Of course! What else could the shit be? Guess you only get what you goddamn get, right?”
The technician raised his eyebrows, tacking on what his mother used to say. “And you don’t pitch a fit!”
The Sergeant exhaled. “Fuck... Something like that.”
Bones. Really? Everything’s pointing to the damn kid’s story. We need to wait for Detective Sako to get back here to confirm it. Why isn’t he answering his goddamn radio? Always keeps it on him. Either he’s got a good reason to be away, or... Shit!
No! There’s no fucking way. He WILL fucking be here. Why the fuck wouldn’t he be? If he was really in a fight with that bastard preacher... Hunter does have his sword... But that don’t mean jack shit. Sumbitch couldn’t
’ve lost!
What if that motherfucker really did take him out? What are we going to do then? It’s not like we can just lock up the ‘Jesus Christ’ to these assholes. They’ll tear the damn jail down! He can pull nearly every fucking trigger on the island with a single word.
Let’s say there’s no conquering hero to return. We have to take some kind of fucking official action on the boy’s accusations. Have to at least bring the asshole in for questioning. It needs to be very out in the fucking open; Completely peaceful. They all need to see their good goddamn Reverend hasn’t been sentenced. This can be easy... if the motherfucker wants it to be.
Say the asshole is guilty. Can’t let a fucking cannibal have free reign over the children of the city. The people couldn’t possibly stand behind him if they know he’s been eating their precious fucking little angels. They’ll surely turn on him as quick as a fucking zombie runs from beer.
☠☠☠
“Brother Brown?”
“Yeah.”
Sitting at the table where he’d been questioned until just now, the mayor looked at the boy he unofficially adopted. “You’re sure?”
Hunter sighed flustered. “Well yes!”
“And you saw him with human skulls?” Nodding was the blonde boy’s reply.
“This means... his neighbors... the church members. They’ll kill him! We won’t even have to prove it. Once they hear of the accusation, those people’ll get the truth out of him. He won’t make it more than a few days. Family means more than religion or allegiance to a leader. Especially when it comes to somebody’s kids... and especially in Alabama! People don’t take kindly to anyone hurting anyone’s kids. Preacher’s about to find out he’s not in Kansas anymore... Or wherever it was he came from!” Chuckled Randy.
