Unknown

by Jane

  “I’m coming Madison. Hang in there,” I whisper.

  4. X

  I need some clarity and I won’t find it here. Roland is okay, and for once, Marcy is here to watch over him. They sit on the couch in my living room under a blanket despite the heat. I leave them with all manner of libation and sustenance, hot and cold, and head for the edge of the property. Past the high hedges, and through the border of trees and low rock walls, I reach the edge of the cliffs that breaks off and fall to the ocean below. The jasmine is here as well. It encircles my property and keeps me at home like a dog on a leash. Or so they think.

  A small pile of stones sits there, piled high into a tiny pyramid. He doesn’t know about this one, and it has never shown up on his radar. I sit before it and prepare to search my mind for answers. It is my own personal lodestone, and it, like many sacred places on my tiny parcel of land, allows me portal to various locations around the globe. Some are designed for placement, a certain coordinate. Others for a time in my past, present, or future. And still others, a very few, to a handful of people that have been my teachers and mentors over the years. Like any student-teacher relationship, some are still in good standing, while others are strained at best. Hers is the vibration I’ve been feeling all day. Her color has come to me in the dandelion fluff and cumulus stratus overhead. Her cry in the soaring caw of a seagull. Her stumbling gait in the sly hop of a wild rabbit, but a blink of my eye and gone. She wants to speak, that I am sure of. Whether she feels like gaming or teaching I can’t be sure.

  Folding my legs into the lotus, I close my eyes and rid my head of all thought. Of the worry over Marcy and Roland. Of the status of Gordon, the slayer. Over Jacob as he struggles with his recent revelations. And Jimmy’s panic as he chases after his vessel and our future. And certainly nothing for the metal beast that laughs at me in the dark, his assignment my mirror, his reflection my light.

  Elbows on knees, hands upturned, a deep sigh and the cold washes over me. The wind howls and the snow beats at my face. The ice stings like tiny needles and with a rush of heat, I am at her fire. The pain of the wind turns into the sorrow of the creature. My eyes open to her stare in the firelight, head between her giant paws, her tail twitching slightly as she eyes her prey with hope and vigilance.

  “Bast, I am here.”

  “I can see that, my old friend,” she purrs.

  “All day you have teased me with requests, so I am here to help if I can, and to ask a favor in return.”

  “Interesting. Did I call you? I don’t remember that, maybe I was hunting, and you came to mind. Maybe I was urinating in a crevice, and your face came to pass. It’s quite possible.”

  “Don’t play with me, Bast. I have great respect for you, that’s why I am here. For the teaching I learned at your feet, I will always owe you, but I will not sit here like a lamb on a spit, roasting for your entertainment. There are plenty of lesser creatures for you to feast on. The litterings of your cave tell an animated story indeed. I’m hoping we can do this trade nice and easy and both come out ahead.”

  Emerald gaze with ribbons of amber bear down on me. She blinks and looks away and I am allowed a moment to breathe.

  “I want out,” she purrs.

  “I was afraid of that. We’ve discussed this before. It is not something that I can help you with, Bast. It is beyond my means, I fear.”

  “That is not true, my friend. I have more knowledge, gleaned from a recent meal of spicy Mexican, their heads not totally empty for once. Their liquid courage was a nice change from the usual beef jerky that finds me here. It need not concern you for once, but in time, I will need you. Soon, I fear. Change is coming, these lands of ours are to be void again.”

  “Again?” I ask.

  “I’m afraid so. Mutation has continued, and while the population has dwindled to a fraction of what it was before, certain resourceful individuals have staked a claim on the crumbs of our existence. It will come to us in time, but of your sextet, there are vulnerabilities, and I can help you with that.”

  “I am grateful.”

  “Dried reishi and goji berries, there by the fire.”

  A small white bowl sits full of berries. Tiny oblong crimson fruits nestle next to larger circles of amethyst.

  “Take them to Jacob, he can help you with this. Move fast, the virus will reach us soon. You must all survive if this is the path you want. There are others to follow, that is for sure, but this is the one that you have chosen to pursue.”

  “Thank you, Bast. When you need me, call.”

  “I will old friend. Now go, I grow weary.”

  The cave fades from view, and the she-cat rises and limps toward the back of the cave, a slash to her hindquarters, four long streaks of velvet across the pristine coat of white. Her head turns and her age shows for once. The centuries have been hard on her and something has gotten to her.

  5. GORDON

  The throbbing in the back of my head rouses me and again I am surrounded by darkness. She is gone and I still don’t know her name. I was sent here for a reason, from a dying organization hell bent on preservation. I have a mission, but the more I see the less I believe in it. She has taken the microchip that they implanted. She obviously knew where it was, so she has a history here. But she left the processor that I came in with, and that secret is a good one to have.

  I have two choices. Wait for her to come back and hope that she can free me or find a way to get untied myself. The latter, I think. I do not trust her and a ladle of water does not a sister make. I am equipped for situations like this. It is not the first time I have been tied up, or tortured for that matter. My right index tip is not flesh. It was lost in a knife fight in Kathmandu. I had it surgically replaced with titanium alloy, and the fingernail is as sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel. Now that I am conscious for more than thirty seconds, and not entirely drained of my fluids and energy, it is time to make a break for it. I need rest and nourishment before I can consider myself healed.

  Slicing through the twines that bind my hands is quick easy work, and my hands burst loose from behind my back. I pause for a moment to rub my wrists and the familiar feeling oozes over me. When I have caught my breath I bend over to free my legs but am stopped by a leather strap that is wrapped tightly around my neck.

  “Damnit.”

  This will take more time, but not much. In my haste to get out of here I slice through the leather too fast, and too far, and slice open my neck. Blood sprays the air in a crimson stream and I hold my hand on it, for what it is worth.

  “Fucking

  shit.”

  Bending over I slice the twine on my feet and I am free. My head spins as I straighten up and I worry that I may have nicked an artery. That is not good. Not at all. I pull my hand away for a second and more blood shoots out, way too much.

  “Goddamn

  motherfucker.”

  Clamping down again I have to get out of here, I don’t have much time. I need to find supplies, gauze and bandages. I have to stop this before I lose too much blood. Gazing around the tiny room, one tunnel is slightly brighter than the others. I head that way, my feet shuffling. Every bit of dirt I move and stone I kick is another noise that can alert my captors. Bending my head slightly at the shallow entrance the blood surges over my hand. I am still nude, covered in dust and dirt, my skin a patchwork of cuts and purple bruises. Up ahead it gets brighter still. But there are voices as well. An opening to my right is filled with the cackles of old women. I ease up to it and peek around to look in.

  The old woman with the stringy hair is hunched over a makeshift table. It is low to the ground, thick branches tied with vines held down with stones. She grinds a rusty substance in a bowl, and murmurs to her octogenarian sisters. Their wrinkled skin is split with bloody smiles and their spines protrude from their skinny backs. If I wasn’t so weak. How sad is the day that the killer of tenfold men has to pass on a trio of ancient witches. With a quick breath I ease
past the opening and down the tunnel, unseen. A ladder waits at the end, a beacon of light spilling down its rails. I grasp it with my one free hand and climb up it as fast as I can. I am out in seconds, in a section of the jungle that is familiar, and not. Glancing around I can see concrete buildings in the distance, and know that I have no choice. I can bleed to death or try to get help.

  I take four steps in the direction of the compound and my arms weaken and fall to my side. The blood has not stopped or even slowed down. With every pulse of my weakening heart it pumps the thick liquid out of my neck and onto the dirt. I fall to my knees and then to my face as my vision dims and the world slips away once again.

  In the final moments before the darkness swallows me whole, I feel hands on me, and movement. I am jostled, flipped, prodded. There is a tiny gasp and quick work about my neck. The sense of gravity shifts about and my stomach lurches. There is bouncing and grunting, the brush of outstretched branches and leaves at my face. I am lulled to sleep on this locomotion ride.

  5. ASSIGNED

  //

  alert

  chip 300021 missing

  searching for

  signal......................................

  ............................................

  ............................................

  ............................................

  ..........................

  ............................................

  ............................................

  ............................................

  ............................................

  ....................//......................

  ............................................

  ............................................

  ............................................

  ...................................end

  search

  source missing, assume destruction of chip

  and/or citizen gordon

  end alert

  //

  //

  incoming email

  RE: activation of chip

  our resources have not been able to locate

  chip 30021, at either source point. possible

  options are underground signal loss,

  destruction of chip, and/or citizen. also,

  radiowave signals are intermittent at this

  time due to radioactive bursts, fallout, and

  sunspot activity. currently, our own assets

  are failing, a resurgence of virus has taken

  many.

  advise you to send men in search of this

  asset. this is an extremely valuable

  resource that needs to be found and either

  terminated or brought back into the fold.

  12433#JKABOL

  end mail

  //

  //

  camera update

  activate and monitor cameras

  1

  2

  3

  4

  6

  7

  12

  13

  monitor all transportation devices

  raise tower alert status to obsidian

  summon physical entity

  begin download process

  prepare for assimilation

  mobilization is 86% likely

  pjksdfiowjlicijeaseholiesgonnafucithemaoolup

  dammiewqtshitewaeahisfucallatem

  end

  //

  7. ROLAND

  Sitting on the couch with my mother is the strangest thing to happen to me in a day of strangest things happening to me. In my head she has become Marcy, not my mother, not Mom. And certainly not Mommy. I regress in a moment of weakness and while it is unsettling in certain aspects, it is a relief I admit.

  His name is X, she said. Short for Exodus. He strolls in the patio doors as if it’s just another day in paradise, through the wide open french doors on a breeze of salty jasmine, and for a moment he blocks out the sun. A flash of something, silhouettes standing around a body. Black outlines with flashes of white behind them, no details, only a moment in time. And then he is to us, on one knee, eyes wide in ivory wonder. For a moment I am lost in the complexities of the auburn chips and green veins that weave through his iris. I am at once frightened of him and comforted by his presence. He is like an abusive father set to go off on a binge. I am waiting for the second drunken boot to thud to the floor, while he spouts nonsense about playing catch and his glory days on the high school football team.

  “Roland, I need a moment alone with your mother,” he says, and he heads for the kitchen, bowls clattering and metal on metal.

  Our eyes connect for a second, a lifetime of regret in an instant of panic. I nod my head at her and open the blanket. I am getting hot now, my body temperature back to normal. With a deep breath I close my eyes and rub them with my thumbs sparking a universe of light and filament.

  “Go ahead, I’m okay.”

  She bounds to the kitchen, glad to be able to do something. Anything. They mutter their concerns and plans, back and forth like jackals snapping at a kill. I care, and yet I don’t. I’m still trying to digest the bizarre series of events that just unfolded. For a skeptic, I absorb everything that just happened to me as if reading the last pages of a Sherlock Holmes novel. Of course this is the answer. Of course this is what was meant to happen. Words drift to me about a poultice, whatever that is, and there is a sense of urgency. Words like unite and virus. There will be a vaccination it seems. A second one. I am as calm as a Zen monk on Quaaludes but I fear that this is all building to a peak, a release. And it sends a chill through my body.

  Death is coming and this motley crew of lost souls will be called on to do something beyond our greatest

  aspirations. In X if find confidence, but he is the only one. My mother, I don’t know what she could possibly bring. Jacob is a beaten man who looks like somebody just kicked his puppy. I barely remember Jimmy and I don’t know if he was ever there at the fire. Was he real, or did I imagine his presence? He could be counted on. That guy, the one that kept eyeing X as if he’d fucked his mother. He looked strong, but unstable, and I’m not even sure if he’s on our side. And I’m nothing but a scared, skinny teen with some out of control spoon bending skills. So fucking what. I can’t imagine any scenario where together we could do anything more than roll over and die.

  I heard a saying once. No man is an island. But we are. I’ve seen that now. There will be no police coming to our rescue. No military rolling into town with tanks and gas masks. Whatever has happened back on the mainland, it doesn’t matter. We are alone here, and as such, will have to find a way to deal with whatever comes our way.

  Out the window a gray mist eases up the sides of the yard. Can you fight something that you can’t understand?

  Or even see?

  A flash of white fur, gunshots in the distance, the yelling of men, and a hot wave of blood. I hope she is okay.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  June 2, 2018

  1. JACOB

  The instructions were pretty simple. The opportunity was a good one. I couldn’t really ask for more than I was being offered. And the chance to be free again someday, although slim, was possible. I was a convicted murderer, like everybody else here. I don’t know where I am, some large, nondescript concrete bunker. It could be Arizona or St. Louis or Mars for all I know.

  We sit in the folding chairs like a bunch of students at a rally. Not like the hundred killers that we are. The one thing that keeps popping into my head is that we can’t all be here on murder charges. Can we? That sweet little blonde woman? She’s very attractive and doesn’t look like she could hurt a fly. Is that her son with her? I doubt he’s here for raping another eight year old and then tossing her body in a wood chipper.

  I glance at th
e guy next to me as several men in suits mill around the podium. They’re either going to explain how this works or put on a presentation of Men In Black: The Musical. The harmless looking guy smiles back at me and I look away. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing that I am. Is he a killer too? Mine was arsenic. I wonder how he did it? It’s like meeting somebody in a sports bar.

  “Hi, I’m Jacob. So, what’s your sign? Libra, really? You look like a Leo to me. Oh, you went to UCLA too? Film major, that’s fascinating. I’m an accountant now, CPA. Not very exciting. Oh really, gunshot in the middle of the night? Wonderful, I poisoned my wife after she recovered from breast cancer. How’s that for irony. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”

  I look up and he’s still eyeballing me. I give him a pained look.

  “Are we allowed to fraternize?” I ask.

  “Probably not. But I’m Jimmy. You look like one of the least likely to kill me in my sleep.”

  “Funny. Next to that blonde over there, I was thinking the same thing.”

  We extend hands, and give a perfunctory shake. Before we can elaborate on our respective killings the man at the end of the hall taps the mic and adjusts his thin black tie.

  “Could I have your attention please? Settle down everyone. I need to go over a few things. Rules, regulations, a little Q&A. You know. The usual briefing that I give whenever a hundred killers depart for a new government experiment on prison life. I’m sorry, alleged. I know you’re all innocent, and we’re testing that DNA right now. As we speak. Seriously.”

  “Not me,” a shaved head with tattoos grunts from the back.

  “The asshole deserved it.”

  “Right, thanks Zeke. We appreciate your honesty. Now shut up.”

  The skin on the suits’ face tightens, making the scar that runs over his right cheek surge red for a second. His short, dark hair has an oily sheen to it as if he hasn’t washed it in a week. He rubs the back of his neck and continues.