Rex Aftermath (Elei's Chronicles)

by Thoma, Chrystalla

  Alendra elbowed him and he realized he was grinning. He shook his head and ducked his chin, trying to sober up.

  Important stuff to do, aircars to steal... A world to save and promises to keep. He thought he could do that, felt in his bones that it might be possible.

  Knew he ought to be scared shitless but felt nothing but elation.

  The glidecraft was hidden in a fenced back-alley full of junk. Zoe flicked off the camo cover and climbed inside, then turned and gave a thumbs-up.

  “Good to go,” she said, taking the driver’s seat and inserting the key. The vehicle rumbled to life, the old engine coughing and sputtering. “We’ll head toward Aerica, to find aircars.”

  The glidecraft was a small, open vehicle, mostly used for transportation of goods. They all crammed on top, huddling on the transport space that creaked with every movement. Alendra sat next to Zoe in the only other available seat and hid her bright hair under her hood, her cat-like eyes sliding toward him with a hint of a smile.

  A smile for him. If only he could stop time...

  But they were underway, the narrow glidecraft rising off the ground with a loud hum and moving out of the alley. Dain hopped off to close the gate, then jumped back on and gestured at Zoe to go. They pulled the camo over them, sitting still and barely breathing in the darkness.

  They glided through the streets with the honks and whirring of aircars, the voices of people and the bitter stench of burnt dakron. A dog yowled as they took a sudden turn, and Elei held onto Kalaes’ arm not to topple over. How much time did they have? Would they make it to their meeting point in time?

  The din of a busy avenue rose around them and they hunched down. Dain was whispering to himself. Maybe it was a prayer. Red sparkled over his chest and head, and the medal hanging from Kalaes’ neck was a cool blue. Kalaes’ harsh panting told Elei his Rex was active, too.

  Well, hi, brother.

  The glidecraft wobbled, jostling them, and the voices from the street grew louder. A woman was yelling, dogs were barking, and a whiff of sweetness hit Elei’s nose.

  Gultur.

  “What’s going on?” Kalaes hissed, lifting the tarp to have a look.

  “Stay down,” Zoe whispered. “Looks like a blockade.”

  “Holy Hells,” Dain muttered.

  Elei’s head buzzed like a hive and cold sweat rolled down his back, drenching his t-shirt. “Where are we?”

  “City center,” Kalaes said. He peeked from under the tarp again. “There’s some sort of religious procession.”

  “Are they checking vehicles?”

  Kalaes let the tarp fall. “Yeah.”

  Dammit. Elei realized he was gripping the handle of his gun and released it. Shooting wouldn’t do any good.

  Hear that, Rex?

  The vehicle slowed to a stop and Alendra hopped off. Her scent wafted under the tarp a moment before she lifted it and gestured for them to come out.

  “What’s happening?” Dain whispered.

  Alendra squinted. “Go with Zoe to get the aircars. We’ll meet at the agreed place and time. We’ll find another way to join you.”

  Elei slid down the side of the vehicle, landing in a crouch, boots thumping on asphalt. Kalaes and Dain followed, peering around the glidecraft, hands on the grips of their guns.

  “Yeah, no way can we pass undetected,” Kalaes grumbled.

  A gray Gultur temple rose in the square, a faceless blank box of a building, reminiscent of a hospital or a storehouse. The streets around it were blocked and patrols were checking the vehicles, the visors of the patrolwomen reflecting the light from the lampposts.

  Kalaes was staring at the temple. A shudder went through him, and after taking a better look, Elei knew why.

  Echoes, Gultur princesses, their tall bodies pulsing a golden orange. As he watched, their faces lengthened into animal muzzles, leering at him.

  Kill them. Kill them all.

  They lined before their temple, holding trays that Rex saw as a dull blue. Their chanting rose and fell on the air like a glittering wave. A ceremony of some kind, and he remembered with a thrill of horror the first he’d observed when he’d arrived in Dakru weeks back. The offerings, the singing — the shots, the blood, the bodies.

  A group of mortals lined up by the side of the temple, pulsing the normal color range — red and crimson with yellow marking their limbs. Children and adults.

  “They’ll kill them,” he breathed and started forward, only to be brought short by a hand grabbing his jacket.

  Kalaes yanked him back down. “Are you mad, fe? What are you rambling about?”

  “Let me go, they’ll kill them.” Elei twisted, trying to break free. He’d be damned before he sat there and watched the Gultur slaughter these people. “I’ve seen them kill men, I won’t stand by and watch.”

  “These aren’t victims,” Dain hissed. “They’re initiates.”

  Elei blinked, sitting back down. “They’re what?”

  “Initiates.”

  “Hey Dain.” Zoe chewed on a braid, eyes intent on the blockade ahead. “Hurry, will you?”

  “What do you mean?” Elei demanded.

  “They’re mortals who want to join the Gultur,” Dain said, skirting the glidecraft and climbing in next to Zoe. “To worship Regina.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Kalaes muttered, and Elei couldn’t agree more.

  “See you in a couple hours,” Zoe said and waved. She could go through the checkpoint; her face wasn’t on every poster in town, lucky girl. “Stay alive, you hear?”

  “We’ll do our best. Don’t leave without us, yeah?” Kalaes waved back. “We’ll find you.”

  The glidecraft engine rumbled, then the thrusters kicked in and it rolled down the street, joining the line of aircars to be checked by the patrol.

  Alendra sidled behind a parked aircar, gesturing for them to follow. They hid and waited as the ceremony began.

  ***

  “What in the five hells are they doing?” Kalaes whispered as they crouched behind a dumpster, watching as the ceremony reached its climax and a Gultur princess fed the gathered mortals small white nuggets.

  “Infecting them?” Alendra hazarded.

  “No way would they survive that. Must be something else they’re giving them.”

  The princess placed her hands on their cheeks and kissed their foreheads.

  Elei shuddered. What was she giving them? Maggots? Moldy food? Another disease?

  “Why would they want to be part of that church?” Alendra puffed in frustration and pulled her hood lower. “Why would they need Regina’s blessings? I don’t get it.”

  “Pissing idiots.” Kalaes leaned forward, sticking his head out so far Elei reached out to pull him back. “Wait.” Kalaes resisted the tug on his arm, and a pissing patrol was crossing the avenue, dammit.

  “Kal, get back here,” Elei hissed.

  “It’s the flashes.” Kalaes’ voice was thin and strained. “I can see them.”

  “Have you lost it completely?” Alendra grabbed Kalaes’ other arm and hauled him behind the dumpster as the rhythmic steps of the patrol thumped by. Thank the gods they had no molosse dogs with them.

  Elei watched them go, tapping their batons on their thighs, their faces hidden behind the shiny masks, their long hair swinging against their backs. “What in the hells were you doing, Kal?”

  “The flashes!” Kalaes waved his hands in the air, dark eyes shining.

  Okay, now was not the time to go completely round the bend. “What about them?”

  “I know what they are.” Kalaes leaned back, propping his head on the dirty wall, his hood slipping off. “What they mean.”

  “Did you have a religious experience? An epiphany?” Alendra sighed. “Come on, man, spit it out. What did you see?”

  “Where the Gultur touch.” Kalaes rubbed his face with both hands. His dark hair stuck out in all directions. “Their fingertips leave these glowing marks. And they all have different colors and text
ures. It’s pissing amazing.”

  Elei gaped. “How?”

  “How would I know?” Kalaes splayed his hands wide. “A residue? Glow-in-the-dark-proof-a-Gultur-has-pissing-touched-you sort of thing?”

  “Wait a minute,” Alendra muttered. “You said Iliathan, Mitt and his girls had these flashes on their skin?”

  “They did, but it was... a different pattern. Holy demons in the deep.” Kalaes huffed. “Iliathan’s skin was flashing all over, his face, his neck, his arms...”

  Elei frowned. “And Mitt and his girls?”

  “Their face only. Their cheeks and forehead.”

  “But that’s where the Echoes are touching and kissing...” Elei swallowed hard. “Mitt and his girls are initiates?”

  “Damn them,” Alendra muttered, her eyes wide. “What were they thinking?”

  Yeah. And it still didn’t explain Iliathan’s different pattern. Because it sounded too much like... No, couldn’t be. Gultur didn’t like men that way.

  “You were right,” Elei whispered. “Mitt and his girls are the ones who betrayed us.”

  Rex, you divine son of a bitch. No wonder it was said to be a King. With every new bonding it seemed to become a different but just as efficient asset.

  Sugarsugarsugar, his mind chanted. Need sugar.

  He stared at his shaking hands, not really seeing them — seeing his pulse jump in bursts of gold. Rex. Efficient. Useful. If it didn’t kill you, of course.

  “If Iliathan betrayed us, he knows exactly what we’re about to do,” Alendra said.

  “Not exactly.” Elei had to grin a little at that. “They’ll be waiting for us, but we won’t show up.” A good thing they hadn’t trusted Iliathan with the truth.

  “Why in the hells was he glowing all over?” Kalaes sighed. “It’s as if a Gultur had her paws all over him.”

  Elei raised his hand, tilted his head to the side. Distant shouts, running footsteps, a thunk like a body dropping, an aircar engine revving up.

  “Something’s happening.” Kalaes peered around the dumpster. “A fight?”

  “Are they killing people?” Alendra puffed in annoyance. “I can’t see or hear a thing. I’m a mere mortal, after all.”

  Elei looked at her, trying to gauge from her expression whether she was upset or teasing, but Kalaes shoved him back and he fell against the wall.

  “Gods dammit, they’re heading this way!” Kalaes pulled Alendra to her feet and started to run.

  Elei blinked, then his brain caught up and he surged to his feet, taking off after them.

  Kalaes hauled Alendra around the corner, then stopped. “Elei!”

  “I’m right behind you,” Elei called out. “Go!”

  Kalaes raced on across one street into another, his hood flapping on his back. Alendra’s pale hair streaked behind her like a banner, and Elei followed.

  In an alley, street kids were gathered around a fire in a barrel, warming their hands; he caught a glimpse of small, curious faces as he pounded by. Shouts rang behind him and he cursed, turning into another alley. Kalaes and Alendra were racing ahead, silhouettes blending with the night.

  A stitch in his side, his back a swath of pain, he ran after them, his boots ringing on the asphalt. The hood constricted his vision so he threw it back, his heartbeat hammering in every limb, drumming against his ribs. He raced down the next street, bypassing a telespeak booth with a line of people waiting, almost crashing into a guy coming out of a diner, ducking to avoid a clumsy grab for his arm.

  Arms wrapped around him in a crushing vise, lifting him off his feet, and a male voice growled in his ear, “Going somewhere, kid?”

  Yeah, as a matter of fact.

  Elei elbowed the man in the chest, the impact rattling his bones, and the hold on him relaxed. Twisting, he dropped into a crouch as a fist swung over his head.

  A whoosh; a ripple of calm.

  The next moment he was up and running again, his breath coming in painful gasps. He streaked down an unknown avenue of throbbing colors and shifting shadows. The sounds were sucked into an eddy, his pulse ticking time, howling in his ears.

  Rex kept flashing targets at him — anyone crossing his path, anyone who seemed armed — and he fisted his hands not to pull his gun. They swung at his sides as he sprinted down the avenue and turned into the quiet of a narrow street, the stitch in his side moving up, reaching for his heart.

  Have to stop. Have to breathe. He stumbled and slowed, struggling to draw air. Where were Kalaes and Alendra? In his mad stampede he’d lost sight of them. He straightened, wiped sweat off his face. By retracing his steps, he’d get back to the street where he’d lost them.

  Shouldn’t be too hard.

  The wind whistled as he turned around and headed back, checking that the avenue was clear and no patrol was about.

  There. The street he’d emerged from. He was pretty sure, and he took a bracing breath before stepping onto the avenue, pulling his hood up.

  Shouts and laughter erupted from a diner, or maybe a bar. Kalaes had said the regime had closed all bars down. Was it a sign of the new order that they had reopened? Less control, more freedom.

  Aircars drove by and he perched on the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for them to pass, hoping Kalaes and Ale had noticed his absence and hadn’t gone too far. The world still pulsed with colors, and his heart still pounded.

  Pedestrians weaved between the vehicles. Seeing a lull in the traffic, he stepped down and hurried across, trying his best not to run, not to shove others aside.

  He’d find them. He hadn’t run far, it would be okay. Hear that, Rex? Everything’s okay.

  Rex responded by upping the tension and brightening the pulsing colors; laughing at him.

  Son of a bitch.

  Sidestepping a passerby whose head was bent against the wind, Elei jogged between aircars and hopped onto the opposite sidewalk.

  Someone was waving at him from a street corner, a smaller form by his side. Kalaes.

  A smile tugged at Elei’s mouth, and the colors of the world finally paled as he started toward his friends, the wind blowing his hood off. He reached up to pull it back.

  Alendra set off toward Elei but Kalaes grabbed her arm, jerking her back.

  What the...? Elei narrowed his eyes and started to turn around, realization dawning too damn late.

  He didn’t have time to draw his gun; Gultur poured from the unmarked aircar and swarmed around him.

  But they wouldn’t get Kalaes or Ale. He wouldn’t let them.

  The thought filled his mind from end to end, and he kicked and twisted and landed punches. Orange and gold pulsed around him, and Rex gave him targets to attack. Keep them busy, let them not look around. Hands fell on him and he punched a forearm, hearing the bone crack, then bent and jabbed his extended fingers into a stomach.

  Let the others escape and set the plan in motion.

  Hands grabbed him again and he wondered why he hadn’t been shot yet, when his hood was yanked all the way off.

  “It’s him,” a woman’s voice said, “bring him.”

  The hells they want? was his last thought before pain exploded in his jaw and crashed in the side of his head. The world sparkled black and then shattered, falling away to nothing.

  ***

  ‘Bumpy ride’ was a huge understatement, Hera thought as she fought to stay standing inside the aircar, to finish taping every crack in the windows and door. She hoped the control panel was airtight, but why should it be? The aircar Mantis had provided, surely stolen, was an old model, for private use, small and rusty in places. Not an air-and-water car, like those Silver Bullet models had to be.

  “Anyone in pursuit?” Sacmis called as they rocked their way over the sodden, uneven ground. “The reflections on the water are blinding me.”

  Not only you, Hera wanted to say, shading her eyes, tape roll still in hand, and squinted through the back window. “It seems not.”

  “They think we’ll die here anyway,” Mantis
said, his cheekbones flushed. “If we make it across, we won’t have them breathing down our necks.”

  Hera said nothing. What was there to say? If and if.

  “We may yet make it.” Sacmis smirked. “We never gave up before, so why start now?”

  The aircar dipped and shook. “Here, let me drive,” Hera snapped. “All the brilliant ideas and courageous words will be for nothing if we drown in the swamp.”

  Sacmis nodded, sheepish, and relinquished the driver’s seat to Hera who slid into it and grabbed the controls, fighting with the equalizers.

  At least by doing something useful she’d feel more in control, more at ease. Because this plan may have been suicidal, but it might have worked if they’d gone with Mantis’ idea of the tried path across the swamps.

  Instead, they fled through uncharted territory, more likely to die than ever — and that was not what bothered Hera. It was the fact she was failing everyone.

  Mantis had not been mindlessly reckless; he’d been carefully reckless, having studied the map and found a way to make it to the machine on time and without pursuit. So what had her caution contributed?

  And how will obsessing over this help? Hera snarled at herself, righting the aircar when it dipped into a hollow and then splashed into a pond of stagnant water, startling clouds of mosquitoes. Neither of you had the perfect solution. There was no perfect solution — to anything.

  Depression clung to her like a film of oil. Somewhere deep down she knew it also had to do with Regina’s reawakening as the drugs left her system, the horrible mood swings she knew so well. But knowing did not alleviate the weight on her shoulders.

  “I’m glad we left the kids behind,” Sacmis murmured, taking up the co-driver’s seat.

  Hera nodded, her jaw clamped too tightly to speak. The swamps stretched in every direction now, white mist curling over them like ghostly fingers. The ground evened out, shimmering water spreading below.

  It was beautiful. And treacherous, as beauty often was. Like the symmetry Regina wrought, the deadly perfection of the Gultur.

  “Lighten up,” Sacmis said, her gray eyes glinting. “We’re not dead yet.”

  “Yet,” Hera repeated, shaking her head. “The tape sealing the aircar will not hold forever. It’s a long drive across the swamps.”