“FERAL!” he screamed at the top of his lungs in a horrible screeching voice, before sprinting right at us with ooze dripping from his mouth. The guards raised their weapons and put him down almost without thinking.
They went to the body and examined it. I could see from the cage door that the man’s blood was the same orange color as his saliva.
“What’s wrong with him?” one guard asked the other.
“It’s that drug from the Sunset District. It’s supposed to get you really high, but make you go completely fucking crazy.”
“That’s what turned him into a living glow stick?”
“Yeah. It’s crazy.”
“What is this drug?” I asked them.
“What? You want our help now? Is that it?”
“I asked you a simple question. That man charged at me, and I would like to know why.”
“All the people in the Sunset District got addicted to a new drug. It’s supposed to be an enhanced version of vapor, but it has weird effects.”
“What is vapor?”
“You really don’t know anything, do you?”
“Then tell me! Did this drug make him want to kill me?”
“No. That would be the new management of the Sunset District. Ever since the Truands started turning into monsters, he’s been leading a campaign against all you danks.”
“Most of them got killed a few days ago," said the second guard. "They rushed the barricades in the Gray District and got mowed down.”
“Barricades?”
“Yeah, there's barricades all over the Ring, now. We have to keep the junkies inside the Sunset District, the Black Jackets are trying to keep us out of the Gray District, they're just all over the place. It's a fucking mess. Damn, I never realized how secluded you guys were.”
“Yeah, you don’t know shit.”
The Truands were dead because of us? That couldn’t be. The Truands were our brothers; well.. very distant brothers, but brothers nonetheless. How could Canis let this happen? How could our crusade have caused this?
“Ah, shit. We’ve got a second one.”
Another of the colored men came into view, but, this time, he was already sprinting.
“Should we shoot him to?”
“We don’t really have a choice.” But before they could open fire, an entire mob of them came into view, charging at us while screaming so loudly that I had to cover my ears. Both guards went white as sheets. One tried to run and the other shot at them, but both were completely torn apart by this ravenous crowd. I jumped back just in time to keep them from grabbing me through the bars. They all shouted, “The feral! Kill the feral!” in screeching voices.
The wall of the Cage seemed to be covered by this massive mob of people, if they could be called that. I screamed at them and beat my chest. I roared louder than I have ever roared before, but I couldn’t even hear myself over their screaming. I gripped my machete and stabbed through the bars. I ran it through the bodies of three men. I took satisfaction in feeling their flesh tear, but they didn’t stop. They continued to reach for me, and my blade was now drenched in three different colors of neon blood.
Then I did something I had never done before in my life; I ran away. I went home. I imagined thousands of those demons breaking through the cage and killing me, tearing me limb from limb, and the images made me run faster. For the first time ever, I felt fear.
I held the door closed behind me, but could still faintly hear the screaming from inside my home.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing, just go to bed.”
“What kind of a weak man are you? You’re acting as fearful as a small child.”
I turned and looked Haylow in the eyes. “You will not talk to me that way.”
She didn’t back down. “If you can be so forceful with me, why can you not face whatever is out there?”
Suddenly, we heard gunfire, and the screaming stopped.
I marched past her and sat down, feeling relieved. Two other women walked in, but Haylow shooed them away. “Tonight you have become less than a man.”
“You didn’t see them. The Sunset District is inhabited by colored demons. They overran the guards, and they would have torn me to pieces. I have to tell the Shamans.”
“You are a warrior of Canis. You do not run! It doesn’t matter if there are millions of demons on your doorstep, you do not retreat. You fight, and take as many of them with you as you can.”
“I know, but… The demons would not die by my blade, and I was so scared…”
“You know what you must do if you want to destroy them.” She brushed her fingers along my face, and brought it close to hers. “Help the Shamans put fear in their hearts.”
“What does that have to do with this?” I screamed into her face.
“Canis is sending you a message. They fairies do not fear you, but they do fear Great Power. My sweet dog, you must unleashed it upon them.”
I fell back onto the couch, and she came down on top of me. “I need to-”
“Be still,” she said, cutting me off. “The Men of the Temple sent the demons. You must allow volunteers. They must be stopped. Do you understand now?”
“Yes, I understand.”
She kissed me softly. “Good boy.”
Chapter 46 - Ins Vera
I sprinted through the dark tunnel, not caring that I could trip in the darkness. As soon as I saw Myracell’s light at the other end, I lost all control. I stopped caring about myself, I just wanted to be home again.
I walked out into the light, and saw that there were a dozen or so Truands left alive. Some were lying on the ground, moaning from their injuries. Others were standing in the sacred waters, either crying, praying or trying desperately to get the metal cover off the drain. Many more were dead, having made it all this way just to bleed out on the floor.
“Fells Barrow!” I called when I saw him. It took him a moment to respond, and he did a double take upon seeing me. “Mr. Barrow, I came from the Gray District. I’ve been hiding out there. I came back to…”
“Where did you come from?” he screamed at me, running out of the waters and grabbing onto me, still soaking wet.
“I’ve been hiding in the Gray District. I came back to help.”
“By getting yourself killed?”
“If we go back there, I can hide you.”
“They already turned us away.”
“But I can get you in. Once night falls, I can sneak you back home…” Every other thought drained out of my head as I spoke that last word. “Home.” Is that where my home was now? Did I belong with the Black Jackets? The ones who had killed my people?
“You’re Ins LaVera’s daughter, aren’t you?”
His question pulled me back to reality. “Yes. I’m Ins Vera.”
He put his hand on my cheek and smiled warmly. “You look just like her.”
Rather than feeling complimented, my eyes fell to the ground, where the bodies lay.
“Is she…” asking the question was too difficult.
“I’m so sorry. She died a few months ago.”
“How?”
He pulled me close to him. “Some things are best not to think about.”
Before I could shed a tear, we heard an explosion from one of the tunnels, followed by voices.
“Climb to the rafters and hide.” I didn’t protest.
I climbed as high as I could, using the intricate and beautiful etchings in the walls as foot and hand holds. Barrow ordered the other young ones to follow, but when they failed to do what I could, he pulled them back to his side.
I reached the highest rafters just in time to see several people walk out of the tunnel, and, as they did, the purple, blue and green crystals that made up Myracell’s figure grew dimmer. The men and women walking in all wore sunglasses, colored goggles or black helmets, and brought their own lights of neon red, orange, yellow, green and so on. The leader was wearing black armor, with orange markings spray painted o
n.
“Motherfucker, I’ve been looking for you!” he said, in an oddly joyful voice.
“Get out of here, trespasser.”
“You're Fells Barrow,” he said, pointing a shotgun at my leader’s head. “The quickest thing to do would be to just pull the trigger and turn your head into pasta sauce right now, but I have a surprise for you.”
Another of the 80’s, this one with green markings, entered from the tunnel, leading an Omniscient behind him. I didn’t know who he was, but Barrow seemed to recognize him immediately.
“How dare you lead them back to us!”
The backstabbing shiner didn’t respond.
“Don’t get mad at your friend. He was just trying to protect his wife and that poor little baby boy back at home. Isn’t that right, you little coward?”
He still said nothing. He simply looked at the ground.
The 80 in green gave an envelope to his boss, the psychopath, which he opened and quickly skimmed.
“Ross Keller, archivist for the government of Jamestown. Son of a politician and a crack whore, Desmond and Marsha Keller… You know, you can chime in at any time…” The archivist still said nothing. “Wow, you won’t even speak to defend your parents? I just called your mother a crack whore. You really are a sad fucking piece’o’shit aren’t you?”
Without even waiting for an answer, the 80 pulled out his sidearm and slapped it into the shiner’s hands, before giving an order to his men. “Put two of those Truands in a line for me.”
They did as he commanded, forcing two Truands, a young man and a teenage girl of similar height, to stand right in front of him as he lifted the shiner’s hands.
“These guys really aren’t worth an entire bullet apiece, so why don’t we see if we can take them out two at a time.”
Both Truands in the line began sobbing uncontrollably. The man almost fell to his knees.
“Will someone please keep the props in their place?” As he spoke, I saw something move in the pack he was carrying. Without warning, a white rabbit popped out and began growling at his “props”. They straightened up and held in their place, either out of fear or, more likely, shock.
“Aw, little Mouse. Come here.” Right on command, the rabbit jumped into the psychopath’s arms. “Alright Ross, it’s now or never. Are you going to shoot them or do I have to motivate you? What will it take, Ross? Do I need to have Mouse bite your dick off? Do I need to fuck your wife? Do I need to kill your son?”
I saw the gun fly out of the shiner’s hands before I realized it had gone off. The bullet had gone right through the eyes of both Truands, and as the pistol landed it went off again, killing yet another. It was a boy, who fell back into the water. His mother screamed the most heartbreaking scream imaginable as her son’s blood began to fill the sacred pool.
“Triple kill! And the crowd goes wild!” The psychopath tossed the rabbit high into the air in celebration, catching him and setting him free to explore the pool of blood between the two young Truands.
“I think you’ve proven who’s side you’re on, so I’m going to let you go. Have a nice life, Ross, you miserable motherfucker. Spend the rest of your life knowing what a horrible person you are.”
After kicking the shiner towards the door, he turned his attention back to the Truands. “Alright, I’ve got a shiny nickel for whoever can catch the most bullets in their mouth.”
The archivist walked towards the exit, not even stopping to take a second look at the death he had caused. Barrow called after him, “Ross!”
Bang
“Please form an orderly line and wait for death. Hell isn’t going anywhere.”
Bang
“Ross!” he called again, wanting to make him acknowledge what he had done.
Bang
“Mouse, get out of his skull. That’s dirty.”
“Ross!”
Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang
When their work was done, the psychopath’s minions left the same way they had entered, leaving him alone with Barrow.
“What kind of man are you? How can you kill women and children?”
“Don’t blame me, this would have happened anyway. I’m just a nihilist with a gun, who finds way too much enjoyment in anarchy.”
“You disgust me.”
“This really is for the best, you know. You’d probably all turn into dog-creatures soon enough anyway.”
“Not one of my people has turned! You are making a mistake. It’s not us, I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He held his shotgun against Barrow’s forehead, as my leader knelt on the ground like a tired and starving beggar. “But now your people are dead. If the feral attacks stop, then I’ll believe you. It’s like trial and error.”
“No, it is error and error alone.”
Bang
This shot seemed louder than any other, but afterwards the psychopath was silent. He picked up his weapons and his pet, who’s white fur was now stained with red, and put them away.
“Morality is overrated.”
After I heard the doors seal behind him, I climbed down and I couldn’t help but begin to cry. Barrow, my mother, my people… I had no one left. It was only then that I realized how bad a Truand I had been. I had let the Black Jackets distract me. I hadn’t even come back to see my mother in… Fuck, I didn’t even know how long it had been. This place wasn’t my home anymore. I was an outsider, just like that archivist. I was no better than the man who killed my people. I was terrible and deserved to die.
With every tear I shed, another of the crystals grew dark. I sat down there for what felt like hours, and soon every crystal, save one, had lost its light. I looked around for my pack, which I had dropped when that psychopath came. My flashlight was inside it, buried under the small mountain of dried meat rations, bread, cooked rice and all the other things I was going to share.
I sat the flashlight aside and threw the entire bag into the pool. It landed next to a floating corpse. It was the mother of the boy who had been shot by mistake. One of those minions had decided not to shoot her, but instead hold her head underwater as she clung to her dead child.
I walked to the edge of the pool as my last tear ran down my cheek, and the last light went out. I pulled out the flashlight and tried desperately to get it to work, but, when I realized that the batteries were dead, I smashed it against the ground, leaving me alone in the dark.
Just as my spirit had sunk to rock bottom, I felt something. I hadn’t felt it when I first walked in, but the presence was there now. It had been so long…
The lights that traced Myracell’s form began to glow once again, in a gorgeous shade of violet. At first I didn’t know why it had happened, but, even though I was sad, I felt at home again.
“Vera?”
I turned at the voice, and saw Scott standing behind me. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were turning dark, but I felt safe when I saw him; when I was reminded that I had been spared death, and given new friends and family.
“Vera, I’m so sorry…”
I ran up and hugged him with all my strength., while I sobbed into his shoulder.
“They’re gone.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
We stood there for a while, but I soon thought of something.
“How did you find me?”
“Do you see that tunnel?” he asked, pointing across the room.
“Yes.”
“It runs right under the Temple. Jack and I used it to escape with Nearly. The Truands let us use one of their exits to get back to the Gray District.”
“So that’s why you sealed off the tunnel?”
“I was trying to protect your people.”
I put my hand on his cheek. “Thank you, Scott.”
We didn't say anything for almost a minute. The two of us just stood there, holding on to one another for dear life. Neither of us wanted to say it, but we didn’t want to leave. I knew that when I left, I could never come back.
It would be too painful. He knew that when he left, he would be a leader again. There were a lot of mouths to feed and a lot of problems to fix. As soon as we got back to the Gray District, we would be two adults responsible for providing food, water and protection to three hundred and fifty people, and giving arms and orders to a fighting force of eighty-three frightened and barely trained soldiers. We wouldn’t be able to grieve for fallen friends and family. We couldn’t take the time to stop and rest.
“We’re not allowed to have our own problems anymore, are we?”
Chapter 47 - Rae Johnson
He still hadn’t moved. Nearly just sat there, calling out her name over and over and over again. It was the first time he had gone an entire night without drawing. All he did was cry and scream.
“Are you ok?” Revy asked. He had been with me the whole night, sitting on the edge of the pullout couch. I hadn’t slept much, just kept seeing flashes, smelling sulfur and thinking about Vera lying broken, bloodied and full of holes.
“I’m fine.”
He paused to check my face, scanning for emotion like a robot.
“Yes, I’m lying," I told him. "I’m still upset because I hurt Vera.” I’d almost forgotten that I had to spell out everything for him.
“They never found her body. She’s probably alive.”
“Until I see her, I’m not going to feel any better.”
As I stood out on the railing, my eyes were glued to the men and women scrubbing the blood from the street, where the Truands had died. Their noses were covered to avoid breathing the fumes from the cleaning agents, and their ears were covered to block out Nearly’s screams. Every Black Jacket returning from or heading off to guard duty paused to think over what had happened. The bodies had been moved, but the memories remained.
“How do we clean up after something like this?” I asked Revy, myself and God.
“I think they’re using bleach, but ammonia would probably work just as well.”
I sighed and went back inside, hoping we all would find a way to move past this. Most of us did, up until the next inevitable tragedy.
Black Light: The Deplorable Savior Page 18
