Illegal King

by Mason Dakota

  If I get Alison killed the day before her wedding Chamberlain will never forgive me!

  “And what does he need protection from that my own men couldn’t handle?” asked Alexandra. She was baiting Alison to say her men were incompetent to the task of protection. One word was all it took for Alexandra to order Alison’s execution. Alison was stuck on how to answer the question and save her skin. Or maybe she was thinking of the person from whom I most needed protection.

  Evelyn.

  “I think I will gladly pass on being followed by mobsters all day,” I said. It came out snarkier than I intended.

  Alexandra turned her fiery gaze on to me, throwing daggers with her eyes. She was angry, enough to sentence Alison to death for disrespect if we weren’t careful. I got more lee-way for being her employee as the Outcast Emissary; she needed me to help run Chicago after the crisis. But that didn’t mean there would be a tipping point for me if we weren’t careful.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  Choose your words carefully or she might kill us, Griffon!

  “Alison is a very capable woman. I trust her. Unfortunately, I don’t have those same feelings for your men. It’s nothing against their capabilities, but they are Nobles and I’m an Outcast. Who will be more interested in keeping me safe? Them? Or Alison?”

  Alexandra’s gaze lost heat. She looked Alison up and down again, seemingly examining Alison’s competence. She purred out her second deadly question, “But from whom do you need protecting?”

  Evelyn? Nebula? Lorre? Someone creating a Noble-killing virus?

  …Gabriel?

  “The Sabols,” Alison shared the one group I had forgotten.

  I really should be keeping better track of those wanting to put my head on a stick.

  Alexandra opened her mouth and all that escaped was a simple smug, “Ah.”

  Feeling the need to justify Alison’s statement, I said, “They grow in number every day and want us both dead. You can’t blame me for bringing some personal protection.”

  “So my original assessment was right. That night of the ball she wasn’t just your date, she was your bodyguard. Interesting that you would think—or perhaps knew—that you would need one that night.”

  I was silent.

  “Might as well add the Emperor to that list.”

  I gaped.

  Does she know I’m Shaman as well?

  “What…”

  “I have just discovered that the Emperor, himself, is coming up to Chicago in a few days, and has asked to meet with you personally. A rather strange and honored request for a man so opposed to your species.”

  If I had something in my mouth then, I would have spat it out. Nothing could have been more shocking to hear at that moment.

  “Adam…Rythe…is coming here…and he wants to see me?” I stuttered.

  Did Evelyn turn me in? Is that why he wants to see me? To have me executed?

  Alexandra’s smile sent a chill down my spine.

  “Yes, I found out this morning. He claims to be coming to Chicago for two reasons. One, as part of some grand initiative to restore power to Chicago in a matter of days, and two, because it’s been decided that this year the United Noble Convention is going to be held here in Chicago. Representatives from almost every Noble led country will gather to discuss foreign policy, global terrorism, and efforts toward long-term peace. He contacted me to have our offices here begin the preparations for his arrival. But he also mentioned you by name, saying he wished to speak with you…personally.”

  I’m dead!

  “When?” I struggled to ask. I glanced at Alison who was gasping as well. She was thinking the same horrors I was thinking. Alexandra shrugged and said, “Not sure. It’ll be a few days I imagine for him and his troops to arrive. Plenty of time for us to get things settled on our end. He’s coming from South America. Apparently he thought this important enough to leave behind his crusade there.”

  I knew it would take a few months for an army to travel from the tip of South America to Chicago with the many threats and radioactive waste dumps spread out between us. But to inform us of his approaching arrival? Running away was hopeless.

  “And you have no idea why he wants me?” I asked. Though I’m not sure why I asked. Even if Alexandra knew, she would never tell me. She would rather watch me squirm.

  Proving me right, Alexandra smiled and said, “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  She stepped toward the door and I let her go by me without giving her a passing glance. My mind bounced around with new thoughts and theories.

  “It’s always a pleasure, Nightlock. Now stop wasting my time and get some work done.”

  She left Alison and me standing there quietly in that broom closet. Horrid thoughts swirled through my mind. Each begged the same question: why me? The world was broken, crushed by tyranny and hate and oppression. That much was clear. Adam Rythe might very well be the political symbol for that. In this world people take what they want, because that’s what their leaders do. You can’t blame people for mimicking their leaders. I tried to do what Chamberlain—an even Gabriel—taught me, to make the world around me just a little better and what did I get? I got an Emperor wanting to see me hang from a rope.

  Can I really change my fate or is this all that there is for my life?

  “So what now?” asked Alison.

  I looked to my desk, overflowing with hours of paperwork needing to be done. It was the same pile of work every day. If my arm was twisted I would confess that the work made me feel like I accomplished some good in Chicago. But that day it was not the work I really needed to get done.

  I turned around to look at Alison and said, ‘We follow the boss’ orders and get some work done. Come on, we’ve got some places to visit.”

  “Where?”

  “The Hospital. We best get to the bottom of this virus mess before the Emperor gets here or the whole city will be quarantined.”

  If the virus got out of control, the city would be burned.

  Fourteen

  Chicago had several hospitals before the Abandoned War, or so I was told when I was growing up. Things changed when two-thirds of our population became immune to sickness and mutations. Nobles didn’t need doctors and nurses to provide them with anything more than a performance enhancing drug, painkiller, or over the counter stimulant couldn’t handle.

  There was no market to treat sick Outcasts since they made up only a third of the population. So unless you were either a very rich Outcast or a Noble suffering some sort of physical injury, you didn’t go to the hospital.

  That meant that there was only one run-down hospital in the entire city. It got worse after the blast.

  With its already limited resources being wiped out by the EMP blast, the hospital experienced its largest influx of patients in history just hours before the blast went off. That was to be expected as a city turned on itself in violent chaos. The hospital didn’t have enough employees or resources to treat everyone. They were forced to prioritize patients based on who might donate back into the hospital.

  Capitalism always trumps generosity.

  I heard that the hospital was forced to resort to barbaric, field hospital practices to treat the giant volume of patients. Many died from lack of proper treatment and resulting infection. By the end of the day, the staff had to turn away most that came to their doors.

  Days after the blast, when things started to return to normal, the hospital found itself in countless lawsuits. Numerous people sued the hospital for mistreatment and malpractice. The hospital counter-sued its patients for not being able to pay and legal repercussions eliminated patients’ access the their banks accounts. The hospital grew poorer due to legal expenses as the city government profited from all the lawsuits. I still don’t understand how the government worked that out.

  Maybe that is what sparked groups like the Sabols.

  Before heading straight to the hospital, Alison and I swung by to pick up Thomas. It se
emed fitting, if not a bit cruel, to bring my only Noble friend into a place of sickness and death to see the impossible situation of infected Nobles. It was sadistic of me, I knew, and showed just how awful of a friend I really am. But if the threat proved real, I needed his viewpoint and his perspective. Even if he hated me for it, I knew he would hate it more not to be there with me. Even Alison agreed…and agreed with how villainous it made me to do it to him.

  I found Thomas actually at his work—surprise, surprise.

  After the blast, Thomas retired from being my personal driver. It wouldn’t be smart or safe for him to continue working in the Mayor’s office with Alexandra as the Mayor. We couldn’t risk her recognizing him. She would torture him for answers about Shaman.

  That meant Thomas was forced to leave behind his oh-so-extravagant career as a luxury vehicle driver (a decision he wasn’t the least bit upset about). Now Thomas worked for a security agency, providing services to rich Nobles. The work usually involved body guard tasks. That business, at least, had sky rocketed in profits as everyone was hiring body guards to protect them after the crisis. Thomas, a rookie in comparison to his fellow coworkers, saw less of the profits. He often sat behind a desk doing small chores while the “pros” were out defending the rich.

  Because of that, Thomas had grown to both love and hate his new job.

  I entered the security company’s office, passed by the receptionist—a lady who by this point had grown used to seeing me around—and went straight to Thomas’s desk.

  “Come on Thomas, you’re coming with us to the hospital. We’re going to go check on the new patients.”

  He sighed, not with disappointment, but with a sense of gratitude to escape the prison of a desk and begin some real work. I had turned him into something of an adrenaline junkie. If I weren’t such a thrill-seeker myself, I would have warned him about rushing toward danger.

  How hypocritical would that be of me?

  “Thanks boss. I was going mad here,” said Thomas as he strode out from behind the desk, either fearless or ignorant of being around sick Nobles.

  Boss?

  Our society saw Outcasts as dirt or slaves—a growing situation. Neither species liked each other and every day the segregation grew more hostile. Their relationship hung on the edge of a cliff, and if things didn’t end they would soon plunge into a violent war.

  The Outcast Legion was an example of the growing animosity.

  Yet, for every individual who responded with hate after the crisis, another responded with love. Humility struck a chord with many Nobles and Outcasts of Chicago. Starving to death, side by side on the same streets where you once avoided each other will do that. The need for survival eliminated a lot of social barriers. In my eyes, it brought hope for a future of equality.

  Is this what Ziavir meant when he claimed to be creating a better world?

  However, for Thomas, being a Noble, to openly place authority on me publicly spoke volumes, just one simple title that redefined the whole boundary between Noble and Outcast, between him and me, making me more than an equal, but his leader. The average Noble would never say or imply something like that. It was humiliating and disgraceful! But the words came out of Thomas's mouth without hesitation.

  If Thomas knew how much the words impacted me he didn’t show it. To keep myself from ruining what Thomas had just done, as witnessed by an equally shocked Alison and the Nobles in the room who overheard, we left for the hospital. When we arrived, I went straight to the reception desk.

  “Hi, my name is Griffon Nightlock.”

  I thought of using a fake name, but I feared that would draw more attention since the Lady probably already knew I was there. A fake name would only make her more suspicious. Besides, if what Lorre said was true, then the one responsible was likely surveying the hospital and identifying everyone who entered or exited—that’s what I would do. Politicians always used unique situations like this to personally benefit. Being there would at best hurt my political reputation and likely come as no surprise.

  Nobles getting sick? Then of course the Outcast Emissary shows up to exploit it!

  “I’ve come to inspect the Noble patients you recently admitted. All three of them,” I said. The lobby had other patients sitting around, and I didn’t want to speak out loud about Nobles being sick. There was no need to cause a panic yet. Anyone over hearing me would simply think that three Nobles were injured from some sort of domestic altercation.

  But the nurse behind the desk understood.

  In a matter of seconds she went from a chipper smile to the stricken look of terror with hunched, burdened shoulders. She breathed heavier and precipitation formed along her brow. At first I wondered if she was sick, too, but her reaction spoke only one thing: cold-hearted fear.

  “I’m sorry, sir…that’s classified for national security,” she whispered as her eyes turned downward. I wondered if she really cared about following the rules. Rules didn’t matter if her perception of the world was shattering, with a reality she couldn’t accept.

  “Ma’am, if I know about these patients shouldn’t that tell you that I have the necessary clearance? Now please, would you take me and my friends to see them?”

  The nurse didn’t fight me on that. She looked defeated, longing for a savior, even if it came from an Outcast. I smiled to comfort her. She nodded and picked up her clipboard. “Yes, sir. Follow me.”

  She left her desk and we followed her.

  Alison asked Thomas, “Are you going to be all right seeing this?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t have to see this if you don’t want to.”

  “I don’t want to, but I think I need to.”

  I felt the same.

  We were led around the corner and up three flights of stairs until we entered the former intensive care unit. Typically only Outcasts or severely injured Nobles were treated there. We approached a curtained area and for a moment I thought we had arrived, but the nurse pushed us along until we hit a quarantined zone of the building.

  A glass window separated us from the three patients.

  Only two patients lay on the beds: a man and a woman, with a third bed empty with blood stained sheets. Several men and women in yellow radiation suits walked about the room checking on charts and redressing bandages. Periodically one of the doctors stuck a needle into a patient’s skin to either inject some kind of fluid or draw more blood.

  The patients themselves held my full attention.

  Their peeling skin had a sickly yellow tint. Brown scars, or what must be their veins, spider-webbed across their flesh. Their bodies, flabby with the sudden, massive weight loss, were wrapped in sweat and blood-soaked bandages. Each breath brought blood to their lips. Their hair was thin and sparse. Their bloodshot eyes revealed almost no white.

  I nearly vomited.

  They were zombies.

  Even through the walls I could smell the foul odor of death and decay.

  “My God,” gasped Alison. Thomas remained as white as stone and speechless. Nobody deserved this.

  “Are they in pain?” Alison asked the nurse who still stood next to us looking through the glass. She nodded very slowly and sighed deeply. It must be hard to watch the impossible happen , much less so horrifically.

  “What can you tell us?” Thomas asked.

  She awkwardly cleared her throat and said, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait for the doctor to come and speak with you. I have to get back to the front desk.” She turned and walked back the way we came. I watched her go and saw her stop by the trash can by the staircase to puke before she disappeared.

  No one spoke. We only stared in horror at the dying man and woman who lay in the beds before us. Eventually a doctor came out to greet us. He didn’t bother to introduce himself or to ask our names. He didn’t even bother to take off his radiation suit. He simply removed his head piece and stared with us at the man and woman on the other side of the glass. The doctor was visibly sha
ken, and maybe too horrified, to process pleasantries. Or maybe he knew there was no point sharing such simple exchanges while we absorbed a gruesome sight.

  Death makes equals of as all.

  Thomas finally asked the question none of us wanted to ask. Maybe that was because he was most afraid of what he might face. For me, it was like hearing of a tsunami in another part of the world, seeing images of the destruction but walking away still feeling safe and secure where I lived far away. For Thomas, it was like staring at the first wave approaching while you stood on the beach.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  The doctor licked his chapped lips. I feared he was starting to get sick as well. He looked like a man who was battling a hopeless situation.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it. Nobles sick? I laughed when I was first told. I thought it was a joke. Now I know better. This isn’t a joke or a dream; it’s a nightmare.”

  “What can you tell us?” I asked.

  His gaze locked on us briefly before swiveling back to the window. I expected him to ask who sent us, why it mattered to us in the first place, or how we had come to find out about the ill Nobles when important officials kept this from the public. I imagine that to be the only reason the city had not reacted with full blown panic. The secrecy of the illness explained the absence of guards. Visible guards would beg suspicion from any curious spectators. I suppose it was easier to hide the story (and the patients) behind a few well-placed curtains on an empty floor in a mostly vacant hospital.

  However, the doctor asked nothing. Maybe he just assumed we were privileged to know. Maybe, like the nurse downstairs, he was too fatigued to care. Maybe he just wished to talk to somebody about the situation, no matter if that somebody was an Outcast or Noble.

  “We really don’t know much. It’s hard to study something without the necessary tools and technology. The blackout has made some things impossible. We can do only preliminary examination until more qualified physicians arrive. I was a trauma surgeon before today. This is beyond my expertise, but I am doing my best until the Empire’s disease specialists arrive. What we have learned is that this disease fights back against many common medicines. We lost Patient Zero by giving him medicine we thought would help, but the drug only advanced the disease.