Black Light: The Deplorable Savior

by Rich Richardson

  “That’s very good, but not the entire story. It all started a few hundred years ago, before anybody in Jamestown was born. There was a man named John Lykan who was obsessed with trying to make humans better, so he…”

  “He created Homo Omniscients right?”

  “No, he didn’t. He was trying to make humans stronger and faster by splicing the DNA of humans with dogs.”

  “Counselor Jeffrey, I’m not sure that makes sense.”

  “Well… just... That’s how it is, ok? Now stop interrupting! John Lykan kept trying to cross the DNA, but it never worked. His last attempt involved creating a powerful retrovirus-"

  "Is that what a virus from the 90's is called?"

  "I said stop interrupting! He made a virus that could alter human DNA to more resemble that of a dog, but when his human test subjects died, the police came to arrest him. Before they could, he injected himself with a sample of the virus and became a half-dog half-human that killed everyone he saw, and every time he bit someone he spread the virus to them. Everyone started turning into monsters, but a group of philanthropists from around the world stepped in to try and make things right…

  “What’s a philanthropist?”

  “Goshdarnit, will you just stop!”

  “But Counselor Geoffrey…”

  “No! I’m telling the story. You are listening.” I couldn’t remember the last time I had stood up to someone like that. I would have felt empowered, if I wasn’t talking to a group of ten year olds.

  “These philanthropists called themselves the Human Corps. They started building emergency facilities in cities and they even created a vaccine for the virus. They didn’t have very much though, so eventually they had to start only giving it to people they thought were worth saving, which caused a pretty big divide.”

  “So that’s where Homo Omniscients come from?”

  “Yes. Homo Omniscients are the descendants of people who received the vaccine. They evolved to a better state, so, in a way, John Lykan did create better humans in the end.”

  “And what about Homo Sapiens?”

  “Their ancestors didn’t get the cure, and that’s why the live in the Cages. If there were ever to be an outbreak inside the city, they could all turn into the half-dog creatures. A lot of people think they’re too dangerous to be around the rest of us.”

  “What do you think Counselor? Do you think they should be locked up?”

  I thought for a second, and told them honestly, “I think that there is no good answer.”

  Chapter 08 - Scott Vale

  “How are you doing, Scott?”

  “Feeling pretty good. You?”

  “My fingers are pretty sore. I don’t know how you made it up that wall so quickly.”

  “When you live in the Gray District, you learn to climb as soon as you can stand.”

  “Really?”

  “The whole district is nothing but busted-ass catwalks. It’s just something you pick up.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. While the walkways in the Gray District had always been in dire need of repair, kids learned to climb and run so they could steal. That was how we survived. Of course, I didn’t want to tell Jane that. She was a pretty nice person, once I got to know her, and I didn’t want to go on and on about my crappy childhood.

  The sound of gunfire made our hands instantly go to our holsters, but it was just noise from the training grounds below. Through the bulletproof glass we could see Tex and someone else making their way through the urban obstacle course, helmets on, heads down and weapons at the ready.

  “I’m glad you and Tex are here. I'd never met anyone from the Gray District before I met you.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “Even now, I’ve never met anyone else from there… except Byrd, but he’s kind of an asshole.”

  “Well, I hope I’m not as bad as he is.”

  She laughed. “You’re not. You’re smart and brave, and you’re always looking after Tex.”

  Another burst of fire made me turn to check on him. I worried every time I saw him go through a course with live ammunition.

  “How did you two meet?”

  “I ran into him after I’d been living on the streets for a few years. His parents had been arrested a few days earlier.”

  “What for?”

  “Selling drugs. Something called hex, I think, or it might have been this other nasty drug called vapor. I’m not sure.”

  “That’s so sad,” she said, having obviously never heard a story like that before. Where I came from they were quite common.

  “Worse things could have happened, but it was only a few months before we came here, so he’s still trying to cope with it.”

  “Oh, I feel so bad for him.”

  “He’ll be fine,” I said, just as Tex ran across the finish line without a scratch. “He’s a tough little guy.”

  As Jane and I took a walk through the building, she continued to ask me questions about the Gray District. Most of my answers were watered down or sugar coated. I didn’t like talking about that place. There wasn’t any culture or architecture or history to the Gray District, just a bunch of poor slobs grinding through life. The only person who always had steady income was the reaper, the man who hauled away the bodies of mothers, fathers, sons, daughters and junkies alike. We always had plenty of bodies. Everyone else had to steal to survive or work for pennies at low paying jobs in a rich part of the city. Then, once they brought those pennies back home, they spent them at shops that sold food for prices so low that it made you question whether those chunky bits in the slop really were chicken.

  “Are they any good?”

  “What?” I asked, realizing I had zoned out.

  “Are the restaurants in the Gray District any good? I’ve always wondered what the food was like there. Is it any different than here?”

  “It’s different, but I wouldn’t recommend it."

  We kept walking, talking about nothing in particular. The enormous building had hallways so long we could tell each other our whole life stories before we got to the end. The entire place had once been a huge storehouse built right next to the Temple, but it had been modified to become a home for the 80's, the Men of the Temple’s newest project.

  All twenty-one of us lived, dined, trained and learned here, and Jane’s mention of the Gray District made me start to see just how much all this stuff must have cost. We had a chef who cooked all of our meals and the food was top quality. The dorms were spacious, as were the classrooms where our tutors laid out their lesson plans. They drew information from endless stacks of books on topics ranging from business and agriculture to algebra and military tactics; and that wasn’t even mentioning the expensive armor and weapons.

  “Where do they get all this?” I asked Jane, completely breaking the flow of the conversation.

  “I don’t know. People give donations to the Temple all the time, and some of the members are very wealthy.”

  “I guess that’s true.”

  “I’m sure those donors are glad to know that their resources are going to a good cause. We’re going to inspire a lot of people.”

  As I thought back to my time running through the obstacle course and spending hours memorizing tactics and procedures, it occurred to me that inspiring people might not be the Men of the Temple’s goal.

  “I need to go. I’ll see you later.”

  While she went to the classrooms, I headed back to the dorms. I’d had a suspicion in the back of my mind that the Men of the Temple were up to something. Now, I was wondering if anyone else felt the same.

  “Byrd?” I said, walking into the dorm. “Are you in here?”

  “He left a few minutes ago.” The voice came from Fox, who was in the middle of a card game with his twin sister, Elka.

  “Do you know where he went?”

  “Probably to the roof again,” Elka told me. “He always hangs out there.”

  When she turned to speak to me, I noticed the scar
s on her face. A window had been shot out a little too close to her during a training session, but she’d finished anyway. The cuts still hadn’t completely healed.

  “How’s your face?”

  “Just fine. I think the scars will make me look tougher. What do you think?”

  “They look like they hurt.”

  “She’s on a shit ton of painkillers,” Fox said, continuing to play cards as they spoke.

  “Shut up. It was just aspirin. If this had happened a year ago I would have freaked out and left, but now I’m just shrugging it off. It’s like we’re real soldiers.”

  “Even better; we’re 80’s.”

  “Stop calling us that,” Elka told him.

  “Why? I like the name.”

  “You're only saying that because you know I hate it.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, with a big smile on his face.

  “I have to go,” I told them.

  “Good luck finding Byrd. He’s never around when we need him.”

  Fox was right. Byrd had a habit of vanishing into thin air, and sometimes we didn’t see him for days. As I headed up to the balcony on the roof, I thought about all the times I’d seen him stuff things under his mattress when someone walked in the room or sneak out late at night. The only other person who had a habit of doing that was…

  “Durango?”

  Byrd wasn’t on the balcony. Instead I found my least favorite 80. I didn't think Durango was a particularly bad guy, he was just blunt and never gave a shit about anyone or anything.

  “What’s up?” he said, tossing a match off the balcony.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to set the gutters on fire.”

  I looked over at the dried leaves packed into the rain gutters and the smoldering matches lying on the roof next to them. Like I said, the guy never gave a fuck about anything.

  “Have you seen Byrd?”

  “Of course not. He’s never here.”

  “Shit.”

  “Why do you need him?”

  “I just have to ask him something personal.”

  “Sounds sketchy. Tell me what it is,” he said, turning away from his pyromaniacal pastime.

  I figured there was no real reason not to tell him. “I’m starting to think that the Men of the Temple are up to something.”

  His response came drenched in sarcasm. “A bunch of racist geezers start indoctrinating teenagers and arming them with the best weapons in Jamestown, and you think they might be up to something? You’re a fucking genius.”

  “Fuck you. You don't have to be a dick about it… but what do you think they’re up to?”

  “If you ask me, these guys are all crazy. Maybe they’re planning on staging a coup to kidnap the President or hijack the farming facility, or maybe they really do just want to inspire people by marching us through the streets. I don’t know and I don’t really care.”

  As he went back to flicking matches, I considered what he had said. Was it possible the Men of the Temple wanted us to go to war with the police? Stage a coup? Kill people? Elka said she was starting to feel like a real soldier. Would she be willing to put her life on the line for these men? Would she or the others pull a trigger for them? Would Tex? Would I?

  “You look worried, Scott. Is this the first time you’ve considered that they might ask us to do more than march in a parade?”

  “I only took the test because they promised free food and a place to stay. I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “Well, it’s always possible we’re just being paranoid. Byrd will probably be back soon. Talk to him when he gets here and find out what he thinks. He’s always skulking around in places he shouldn’t be, so he probably knows more about what our benefactors are planning than anyone.”

  “And if he doesn’t show?”

  “He will eventually, but if you’re in a hurry you can always talk to Frollo yourself.”

  “That’s true. Thanks, Durango. Stop trying to burn the building down.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter 09 - Julia Munford

  “I just need to do it one more time.”

  “You said that two days ago. Hell, you’ve probably told me that a thousand fucking times!”

  “It helps me sleep.”

  “Stop saying that! You’re nothing but a no-good, vapor addicted sleazebag!”

  “Julia, don’t yell. You’ll wake the kids.”

  “Do you really think I care? I want you out of my house, right now!”

  We heard the sound of plastic hitting the ground in the other room.

  “You need to calm down. I’m going to check on my daughter.”

  “Sit down!” I yelled, and kicked my dumb bastard husband’s legs out from underneath him. Seeing him go crashing to the floor gave me a warm fuzzy feeling inside. He looked so pathetic, his hands trembling and his face white as a sheet.

  I walked past him and into the other room. “Shh, Cindy, it’ll be ok,” I whispered to my little girl as I rocked her back and forth. I picked up her toy and placed it back in her hands. My second born was always throwing things to get our attention. She refused to ever cry.

  “Is everything ok, mom?” I heard from behind me.

  “Yes, just go back to sleep, dear.”

  “I heard you and dad yelling. Are you mad at him?”

  “Just go to sleep.” Finally, the five year old walked back to the family room.

  I carefully placed Cindy back down and took one last look at my no-good husband before stepping outside, trying my best to not disturb my son, Benjamin Jr., as he tried to go back to sleep on the couch.

  The night was warm, but the metal catwalk felt cold against my bare feet. Down below a few people raced to get home and a couple of very suspicious looking characters lurked in the darkest corners.

  “Oh my God,” I said to myself. “I am the worst mother in the world.”

  I could see the ambient light from the Sunset District changing rapidly, briefly lighting up the street, the houses and the red cross painted on the clinic five doors down. “It must be Sunday,” I thought.

  I still worked for a family there. I cleaned their house every Thursday. The mother of the house always talked with her kids about being prepared and knowing what they wanted to do with their lives. Once they turned eighteen they had to go and make it on their own, but they had jobs and apartments lined up as soon as they left. I’d be lucky if I could just afford to feed my kids tomorrow, not to mention for eighteen years.

  I broke down, crying over the railing. My tears fell down to the street below, joining the endless river shed by all the mothers, lovers and family members in the Gray District. There was no food, no money, no nothing. I just had to hope I could keep my son living at home as a teenager. There weren’t many children in the Gray District, but the ones who were here were usually lucky if they could stay at home past age twelve. It made me angry to think about throwing my son out onto the street, and my anger made me cry even harder.

  I stood up and wiped away the tears. That wasn’t going to happen. They were going to get good jobs, get married, raise their kids in the Sunset District and never set foot here again. They were going to make something of themselves. They had to.

  Once again, I tried to be quiet when opening the door. I didn’t want to wake anyone up. I stopped while walking past Ben Jr., who was now fast asleep on the couch. His face and hair were dirty, but he slept with a smile on his face. He was so beautiful.

  “Good night,” I whispered to him as I walked back to my bedroom, expecting to find my husband passed out in our bed. He wasn’t there. Instead, I found a glass vial. I’d become used to finding these things lying around, but usually they were empty. This one was still about three quarters full.

  Slowly I pressed open the door of the next room. There he was, holding our little girl in his arms, wrapped in the purple blanket she loved so much. Another cheap plastic toy had been tossed to the g
round. His hands weren’t shaking and some of the color had returned to his face. He looked worried when he saw me walk in, but seemed relieved when I smiled at him. I went up and kissed him on the forehead, careful not to wake the girl.

  Our life was horrible, that was just fact. However, even in the darkest of times, life can surprise you, and before you know it you find yourself smiling despite everything wicked that’s been thrown your way.

  Chapter 10 - Ins Vera

  The streets were always full of shiners and most of them were willing to toss a few coins to a pretty Truand girl. Mothers turned up their noses and pulled their children away, but the fathers fought for a second look. Whether businessmen in fancy suits or craftsmen in dirty overalls, all of them were enthralled. Many passed by every day and some took extra-long routes to and from work just so that they could see me. I was fine with that. More passersby meant more money.

  I danced on the sidewalk while another Truand strummed a worn out guitar and yet another played a set of hand drums. We’d placed an old felt hat next to us, so that the shiners could throw in coins and crumpled bills.

  The Truands, a large collection of dank inhabitants in the Shining Ring, lived proud lives. We performed, bartered or stole for our food, but we felt no shame in it. I was proud to call these people family.

  By the time the sun started to set one of us had already gone home, but I didn’t want to end the day just yet... until I saw a pack of white robes heading straight for us.

  The Men of the Temple often showed up to drive away Truands, even when we weren’t doing anything illegal. They held a lot of respect though, so our leader had ordered us to run when we saw them.

  “Be gone you vile freeloaders! Your lives harm all of society! You have no right to breed.” I’m not joking, that’s really what they said.

  My friend quickly threw his drums in a sack and ran into the alley. I followed him, stopping only to grab the hat with the money we had earned. The Men of the Temple did not chase us, but I could hear them shouting for the police. At the other end of the alley the other Truand ran off in a different direction. We looked back at each other once, but kept running apart.