by Tim Marquitz
“Yes,” Corby answered, every frayed nerve in his body crying out for one. “A double, please.”
“Yes, of course.” Barrett chuckled as he poured bourbon into two glasses. Handing Corby one, he stepped to his office window, overlooking the harbor. Corby gulped the liquor and swallowed, his head swimming as the bourbon scorched his throat. He exhaled, his muscles relaxing as his head buzzed and tingled, his eyes stinging with tears. He’d needed that. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Barrett asked, staring at the black midnight sky and taking a sip of his drink.
Corby had only half heard him. “What?”
“The universe,” Barrett answered without turning around, gesturing at the window with his glass. “The Earth is so tiny, so insignificant, a speck in all that dark vastness. So primitive and puny a thing is man, that he could never even grasp the concept there are other intelligent forms of life in the cosmos. Vastly different forms, millions of years older and more evolved, existing only as pure dark energy. Beings with the power to channel cosmic forces, like electro-magnetism, as easily and naturally as man draws breath.” As he spoke, the lamp on his desk began to flicker. Corby felt an odd chill down the back of his neck. “And in so doing, warp the very fabric of time and space, navigating the countless dimensional plains of reality. Dimensions man, in his limited perspective, can only imagine as the realm of the occult.” The flickering grew worse. A cold sea breeze ruffled the curtains. “Eventually, they settle on one particular plane, taking root and shaping the indigenous organic matter psychokinetically, assuming whatever corporeal forms they wish.”
Corby’s hand shook as he set the glass on the desk. Barrett’s words were only now sinking through the alcohol-induced buzz. “Barrett … what are you talking about?” he asked, a numbing chill spreading through him.
“This is our world,” Barrett said with uncharacteristic anger, turning to face Corby. His eyes flared as his hand clenched his glass. Corby started in his chair. “We created it and ruled it for hundreds of millions of years, but then the world changed.” His tone softened somewhat, the room growing darker. Corby’s pulse quickened. “Meteors rained from the sky, the continents drifted, the carbon content in the atmosphere dissipated. The Earth cooled and ice covered the planet, forcing us deep underground and into a state of suspended animation. We awoke to find new forms of life had covered the surface of the world, breathing air now poisonous to us.” Corby nearly bounced out of his chair as the glass shattered in Barrett’s hand. “But we adapted, telekinetically manipulating the evolution of these new, warm-blooded vertebrate forms for millions of years, eventually giving rise to a new breed of large-brained mammalian bipeds capable of serving as our hosts. Creatures with limited intelligence, but tool-using and capable of splitting open the earth for us, flooding the air with carbon, raising the temperature, melting the ice, and freeing us from our ancient captivity.” He snickered as blood dripped from his lacerated hand onto the carpeting. “Humanity is easily manipulated, and easily destroyed once having served its purpose.”
Corby reached across the desk and picked up the vid phone. His heart nearly stopped dead in his chest as he saw the flashing red digital words: file deleted. He felt his face grow pale as he realized what Barrett had meant. God help him … what he was. He forced his head up and looked at Barrett.
Barrett’s face twisted in perverse, joyous agony, like the visage of an evil clown in a funhouse mirror. Corby felt the blood drain from his body as Barrett’s face crumpled like a plastic Halloween mask. The sickening crunch of cartilage turned Corby’s stomach. His eyes widened, a numbness spreading through his body as something bulged beneath Barrett’s jacket in the waning light, detaching itself from his back.
Corby gasped, trying desperately to make his feet move towards the door, so very far away. He heard Barrett’s jacket tear. Corby screamed, his knees turning to jelly as he saw it … casting off Barrett’s crumpling body and scuttling across the bloodied carpet towards him on its many jointed limbs. Its claws rattled. Corby could only stare as it bared its gnashing fangs in a wicked, hungry smile. Its one, glowing red liquid eye stabbed into the depths of his brain.
Blessed Be the Shadowchildren
Malon Edwards
My older sister Ruthie used to jingle bells before she went out with her covey to hunt small game and gather fruit in the Dark Lands. She would hide in the armarium in our front room and shake the bells to make me think an Eloko was coming to get us.
Now that I think about it—out here in the Dark Lands hunting small game and gathering fruit with my own covey—those bells were silly. They hung from ribbons attached to a small block of rectangular wood Ruthie and her covey made one year for Christmas. Me and my covey made the same bells to hang from our mantles when we reached grade five.
Silly or not, whenever I heard those bells, no matter where I was, I would take off like a scalded dog for my bed and hide under the thick covers. Ruthie would be snickering in the darkness of the armarium, trying not to knock over our parents’ urns while I waited for an Eloko to come and eat me.
Just like I wait for one now.
Nothing moves. Not the trees. Not the undergrowth. Even the Eloko bells have stopped.
I begin to doubt myself. I wonder if I heard them in the first place. Maybe I made it all up. People can hallucinate sounds, too.
At first, the bells were so soft they blended in with the constant chirping of the birds in the treetops. Then, all of a sudden, the entire Dark Lands went quiet and the only thing I could hear were the bells, my beating heart trying to break out of my chest, and a whimper starting in the back of my throat.
Those bells were the most awful sound I’ve ever heard in my life.
They sounded nothing like Ruthie’s bells.
But then they stopped.
I want to run. I want to hightail it back to the Dome, back to my bed, back to my covers like I did when I was five years old.
But I don’t. Instead, I nock an arrow and peer through the dimness for Lali. Three minutes go by. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. But I don’t move. My bow arm is steady as I wait for her. For my treefrog. For an Eloko. To be eaten.
But she doesn’t come. I last saw Lali disappear into the pol’anga fruit grove. That’s when the bells got louder. Real loud. Lali had to hear them. Maybe that’s what they do. Maybe the Biloko shake their bells hard and loud so you can’t hear them sneaking up on you.
Or maybe the Biloko just finished eating her. Maybe their bells got louder because they were so excited with their meal. They couldn’t help themselves. Lali tasted so good they just stuffed handful after handful of her in their mouths, ripping off chunks of her with their long, sharp claws, unable to get enough of her sweet deliciousness as their bells rang louder and louder and louder with their greediness—
And then the bells stopped because she was all gone. There was no more left of her to eat.
No. I can’t think like that. I shouldn’t think like that. Lali is still alive. Any moment now, she’ll be tearing through the Dark Lands toward me, as light and graceful as a deer with those long, brown legs of hers, running this way, running back to the Dome.
But she doesn’t.
Shit.
I told her we shouldn’t go this far into the Dark Lands. I told her that the Biloko would tear us apart for taking their sweetest and most exotic fruits. But Lali just laughed that wonderful laugh of hers, and smiled with those lovely full lips she has. Next thing I know, I’m hearing loud, horrible bells as I stand on the edge of the pol’anga grove—the farthest any warbler and treefrog has ever been.
As a warbler, I should have whistled my trills the moment I heard the bells. Over and over again. To warn my treefrog. To warn Lali. To warn the rest of my covey, Ashni and Kentaro. To warn any other warblers and treefrogs who were brave enough to take Lali up on her dare and follow us this far out into the Dark Lands.
But no other treefrog is as crazy as Lali is. See? Is. I said is. Lali is still alive. I know it.
In my heart of hearts I know it.
Just like the other treefrogs know there’s more than enough game and fruit to hunt and gather close to the Dome. That fruit might not be as tasty, but picking it won’t get you eaten by an Eloko.
And I don’t want to get eaten by an Eloko.
I don’t want Lali or Ashni or Kentaro to get eaten by an Eloko, either.
But for all I know, Lali has already been devoured. I should just run. I could tell the Solaris I did my best. I warbled. I trilled. I whistled. But Lali never came. So I ran. But I was lucky. No. I was blessed. I escaped.
It’s a lie, but how would the Solaris know? Tau doesn’t see everything. Or at least he doesn’t see everything Lali does. She and Batiste from Covey Five do some tripped out stuff. She told me herself.
I just need to make my story believable. I could tell the Solaris that, as I ran, I felt the long, clawed fingers of an Eloko trying to grab the collar of my leather tunic and snatch me back into the Dark Lands. And it almost had me—no they almost had me—until they saw the bright lights of the Dome.
So the Biloko ran away. Back into the Dark Lands.
But I won’t lie to the Solaris because I won’t run. I won’t leave Lali. That would be wrong. She’s my covey-mate. She’s my best friend. Even if all she talks about is Batiste.
So instead, I take a deep breath, whistle the first few notes of the warning song Lali and I made up just for us, my voice shaky as all get out, and then wait.
One Serengeti. Two Serengeti. Three Serengeti.
Nothing.
I do it again. A little bit louder this time. A little bit stronger. The Dark Lands are so quiet. The only living thing making any noise at all is me. Which means they hear me. The Biloko hear me, they’re coming for me. They’re going to eat me —
Then I see those long brown legs of hers. Running fast toward me. Faster than I’ve ever seen Lali run. But not fast enough.
Three, four, five, six, seven dark green shapes are right behind her. They get closer and closer with every step. She’s tired. She’s scared. I’ve never seen Lali frightened before. Never in my life. Nothing scares her. Except the Biloko.
She knows this is it. I can see it in her eyes. In her legs. The lactic acid is building. She’s slowing down. Lali knows they’re going to eat her. She knows it’s over.
She knows the Biloko are within collar grabbing distance.
~
The Biloko are trying to exterminate my worshippers again.
Six hundred years ago, they nearly did. Just decimated my people. You don’t know how long it took me to breed my followers to that numeric strength. There were millions of them. They flourished to mega-city level.
And now, that could all be wiped out.
Over some fucking fruit.
I know it will take the Sun centuries to die. Maybe even millennia. So I’ve been preparing Earth for its long run up to death. I’ve worked my ass off to give my followers the knowledge and tools they need to survive.
It took months to get them to understand covey life. Years to teach them how to build their Dome. Decades to get the Dark Lands where they are now. And that’s with the quick growing seeds that thrive in dim light Kerana developed and showed them how to cultivate.
But don’t get me wrong. I didn’t do all this for the humans, inferior creatures that they are. I did it for me. I want people around to worship me. I’m a selfish bastard like that.
I even tried to make it easier on them. I tried to teach them how to build a weather system within their Dome. It’s big enough. They could have had artificial day and night. Bright sunshine whenever they wanted. Rain for the crops and vegetation that refuses to grow. Simple stuff.
But these dumbasses just didn’t get it. Just like they don’t get how to keep green things alive beneath their Dome. Which is why they have to take their sorry asses to the Dark Lands for food.
But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, I kept them alive. For centuries. So I have a right to be pissed off. The Biloko is messing up my shit.
And it’s a hot mess. Literally.
Wait. Hold up. You have no clue at all what I’m talking about. Let’s back up and start over. And let’s start with me because I, of course, am the best place to begin.
My name is Tau. I am a Solar Prominence. Excuse me, I was a Solar Prominence. I kidnapped Kerana, the most beautiful and most talented of the Quintessence.
Yeah, I’m one of those kinds of gods. I just couldn’t help myself.
Because I kidnapped Kerana, the Sun is fading and dying. That’s where we’re from. Where I’m from. Kerana is dead. All because I broke the rules.
I don’t like rules. Especially when they’re imposed on me.
The Quintessence—the People who power the Sun as its Core and think their shit don’t stink—made up this stupid rule that no solar entity is allowed to leave his or her layer of the Sun. Ever. Which meant, as a Prominence, I was supposed to stay within the Photosphere. Forever.
Forever is a long time. Especially when you’re talking Sun years.
But those dumbass Quintessence didn’t really think Their Stay-in-Your Place Rule all the way through. By the nature of our very being, Solar Prominences had to penetrate the coronal layer. When it was time for us to do that dance we so loved to do, we blasted out of the Photosphere—our vaults powered by the Solar Filaments and their magnetic fields—and into the Corona.
How else could the entire solar system delight in our beauty? And I was gorgeous! You should have seen my fiery red skin, my lithe, muscular body and my blazing eyes. I was the most talented Prominence who had ever graced the surface of the Sun.
I’m still gorgeous now, mind you. Just not as gorgeous as before.
I bet you didn’t know the Sun was such a complex place. And if you did, I don’t want to hear about it. Keep it to yourself.
Anyway, ask around about me. Any Flare or Radiant or Filament (if you can find one still alive) will tell you about my truly divine talent. And if they don’t, they’re just jealous.
So I figured that, if there was no harm leaping and twisting and curling up through the coronal layer, then the Quintessence wouldn’t have any issue with me going to the Core during my dark periods. It wasn’t like I was going to do anything. I was dark; I didn’t have enough power or energy.
Famous last words, right?
But that’s what Kerana does to you. Did to you. She made you want to do things you shouldn’t. Or couldn’t. All I wanted to do when I first saw her on my first trip to the Core was be one of her core-mates. Their bodies twined and wrapped and locked so perfectly with hers. It was intimate. It was arousing. I was jealous.
And her glow was—
There just are no words to describe it. I could point out Kerana right away within the mass of millions upon millions of red-gold bodies that fit like puzzle pieces to make up the Core.
Eventually, my power and energy were restored by the Core. But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay within the Core forever. I wanted to climb in between Kerana and her core-mates and insinuate myself into their tessling, but I knew I wouldn’t fit. I knew it would be awkward. I knew that wasn’t my purpose.
But that didn’t make me want to be with them—with Kerana—any less each time I returned to the Core during my dark periods. Her tessling was always in a different place within the Core, but I was always able to find them. Within seconds. Her aura, her glow was unmistakable.
It didn’t take me long to figure out when Kerana had her off periods, when she would climb out of her tessling and be replaced by someone less beautiful, less appealing. I learned to burn my light and energy with efficient glee so my dark periods coincided with Kerana’s downtime as she recharged.
It was quite easy. No one said a word. No one arrested me. No one banished me to the darkest regions of the solar system. I was surprised. At first.
I mean, the Quintessence were no joke. They made the rules and everyone followed them without qu
estion, so there was no need for punishments. No one messed with Them. Until I kidnapped Kerana.
I had to. Her beauty, her warmth, her energy compelled me. But she wasn’t feeling me. We just didn’t click. To this day, I still don’t understand why. I could say it’s because she was a stuck-up bitch, but I find it hard to talk about Kerana like that since her death.
I tried my damnedest to show Kerana exactly what she was missing out on with all of this gorgeousness. I snatched her to one of the largest and darkest sunspots. Just her and me. I wanted to make her see I was one of greatest wonders of the solar system. The galaxy. Hell, the universe.
But her core-mate Angatupry found us after a few weeks. And he was pissed. We fought seven days straight. I had upset their tessling harmony when I took Kerana. He and the other four core-mates could not function properly without her.
I’m not ashamed to say Angatupry kicked my ass from one solar pole to the other. The Quintessence were badass like that. They were all about power and energy and strength. But one ass-kicking doesn’t matter. I got Them back in the end.
After being banished to Earth, I set myself up as both god and avatar—the Solaris. I cultivated life and culture on my terms, with my rules. And I did it all with Kerana by my side. The Quintessence had banished her, too.
They had ruled she’d been tainted by the time we spent together within the sunspot, and she would never function properly as a Quintessence again. Which didn’t matter to me. I was having a damned good time on Earth.
Until the Biloko hordes decided to eat all of my people.
Greedy little shits.
~
I don’t think. I just shoot.
Two dark green shapes collapse mid-lope and crash hard, skidding across the forest floor of the Dark Lands, but the other five Biloko leap over them and keep coming. I let four more arrows fly—one after the other—and they all find their targets. An eye. A neck. The heart. Even through the back of the mouth.
