Two Polluted Black-Heart Romances

by Kevin James Breaux

  “Good. Then tell him to fix all this.”

  “Jackson—”

  “No, Moselle.” Jackson raised his voice. “You want to flee. You want to go home. You want to help Cade. You want to abandon Sabrina. Make up your mind.”

  “I have.” Moselle stood her ground. I’m leaving.

  “And so have I.” Jackson mirrored her actions. “You… you and Cade are undead. You two can’t be hurt—can’t be killed. I can be. I almost was. I’m…God damn it…I’m squishy. God, I hate even saying that. Fuck.”

  “I can be killed,” she admitted. “So can Cade.”

  “Damn it, Moselle, you know what I mean. You get stabbed or shot and you heal overnight. I get stabbed or shot and I could die.”

  “You are a survivor, Jackson,” she said sincerely. “You are not so easily killed.”

  “Well then what about Sabrina?”

  “What about Sabrina?” Sabrina asked as she walked around the corner.

  “You can’t play with our lives, Moss.” Jackson pointed at her. “Sabrina and I are not immortal like you and Cade. We age. We get hurt. We die.”

  “Hey, I can heal too, ya know?” Sabrina said somewhat unhelpfully.

  “She wants us all to go back to her house. Her house, where she killed someone, Sabrina. Where more of those things could be.”

  Moselle did not like Jackson’s tone. “A different man woke up in my subbasement. Different from the one I love.”

  “Different from the one who died, you mean?”

  “Different from the man who lived. Truly lived.”

  “If I’ve changed, it’s only because you’ve opened my eyes,” Jackson shouted.

  Moselle grumbled.

  “Yeah, see, that’s what bothers you the most, isn’t it? I’m no longer blind to your selfishness—”

  “Jackson! Moselle!” Sabrina yelled. “Both of you, stop it!”

  “I’m done,” Jackson said.

  Moselle felt her gaze drawn back to the half-open trunk. Had the was sceptre been in my hands where it belongs… No, they would not have spoken to me with such disrespect. As she reached for it, Sabrina called out her name.

  “Moss, why don’t you walk with me? I need to get the key to the padlock on my unit.”

  “As long as you will allow me the time to convince you that being here is not our best option.”

  “Fine.”

  Moselle shut the trunk and joined Sabrina on her way to the trailer that acted as an office. She wished she could not smell the odors that rode on the wind and blew across the parking lot, but she did—and they were truly disgusting.

  “This place… It reeks.”

  “It does.” Sabrina crinkled her nose.

  “Did it smell as such when you were here days ago?”

  “Not quite as bad, but I did have Weston with me to keep the air circulating.”

  “Such smog.” Moselle wanted to spit, to rid her taste buds of the filth. “How do you breathe it?”

  “The same way Jackson does, Moselle,” Sabrina said, her eyes widening.

  “Your meaning?”

  “Sometimes you have to remind yourself of the differences between the living and the dead. You tend to forget.”

  “I—”

  “Moss, you do…”

  Moselle sighed. “Is that why he’s so mad?”

  “Have you given him a break—a moment’s rest since leaving the hospital?” Sabrina asked. “The living require much more rest than the dead. Rest and food. And clean air.” She coughed. “This is horrible.”

  “Perhaps I have not given him enough rest.”

  “Or space.”

  Moselle gave Sabrina a cross look.

  “Well, babe, when you like something, you tend to smother it.”

  “You may be right.”

  “You know I am.”

  “If you are so smart—” Moselle began.

  “Oh, here it comes,” Sabrina grumbled.

  “Then how come you are in such a fine mess with your new boss?”

  Sabrina laughed. “’Cause I’m just like you. I’m self-centered and stubborn.”

  “Is that why we’re friends?”

  “You know it, bestie.” She hugged Moselle. “So hey, you know, this place used to be run by pixies,” Sabrina mentioned.

  “Such destructive parasites?” Moselle frowned. “Here? Surrounded by so much trash?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m surprised they have not consumed it all.”

  “Exactly.” Sabrina smirked. “I guess at some point, this place was taken over by a golem.”

  “That does not sound accurate,” Moselle said as Sabrina reached the office door. “Golems are servants. They do not act alone. They need to follow someone’s orders.”

  “Well, I haven’t met that someone yet.”

  Moselle grabbed Sabrina’s arm so she could not open the door. “Sabrina, wait.”

  “What?”

  “What otherworldlies do you sense here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “Well, I sense Lonzo. I sense you,” Sabrina said. “Wait, come to think of it… I guess I sense three…no…five more. All just inside the office. Hey, maybe the pixies never left.”

  “This place bills you, yes?”

  “No, it bills my parents. I mean, I have the key and it’s all my stuff, but my parents are the ones who—”

  “We have to go,” Moselle stated firmly. “We have to leave—”

  Before she could finish, there was an explosion in the office that blew the windows out and sprayed shards of glass across her and Sabrina. Sabrina was thrown backwards and rolled down the ramp.

  Moselle squinted, her ears ringing. She was unsure how she still stood; the force was tremendous. “Sabrina? Sabrina? Are you okay?” Moselle was sure she’d spoken but couldn’t hear a thing over the ringing.

  As she turned, she wobbled and nearly fell. What’s wrong with me? She looked down her arms to her legs. There were rips in her clothing and several dozen visible wounds. She didn’t know what to do: run or scream for help.

  Her eyes fluttered as she gazed down at her friend. She had only seen Sabrina bleeding like this once before—the night she witnessed the aftermath of her and Cade having sex. She—she was fine then…bleeding…but moving…breathing…now she’s so still.

  “Sabrina?” Moselle heard her voice this time. It sounded weak and dry. “Sabrina, please be alive.” She took a step toward her friend, stumbled, and fell hard to her knees. How long she knelt there, she was unsure.

  She heard Jackson shouting her name. She turned in time to watch him run the last several feet to her. His face was pale with shock.

  “Moselle…”

  “She’s hurt. She took the blast.” Moselle pointed, and when she did, she realized half of her hand was gone. Only her thumb and index finger remained. “Oh my…”

  “Your hand.”

  “It—it will heal. Eventually.”

  Jackson helped her up, but she did not feel steady on her feet.

  “Thank you. I fell,” she said as she watched his eyes move up and down her. “I’m fine. Help her. She needs you.”

  “She’s cut up pretty bad, Moss.”

  “You have to keep her warm. Better yet, heat her up.”

  Jackson lifted Sabrina from the ground and held her tight to his chest. “How? Where should I go?”

  “To her storage unit, find some clothes and blankets.”

  Jackson rushed off as Peter approached the scene cautiously. “What in bloody hell happened here? Oh no…you’re hurt…”

  “I’ll be fine.” Moselle hid her damaged hand.

  “I will call an ambulance.”

  “No. We need to leave.” She looked ponderously about. “There might be another attack…”

  “What? An attack? Terrorism? I already called the police.”

  “No.” She pointed her good hand, palm toward Peter. For a moment, she
considered draining his life force so she could heal, but stopped when she registered what he said. “Human authorities cannot know. They must not be involved.”

  “Human authorities?” Peter shook his head.

  “No more humans.” Moselle cradled her damaged hand.

  “What? What do you suggest we do?”

  The door to the self-storage facility office pushed open. Badly damaged, the thing creaked loudly and then fell off its broken hinges. The noise startled them.

  “What the hell is that?” Peter gasped.

  Out stepped something tall and bulky. It glowed bright and then abruptly dimmed. Moselle only caught a quick glimpse of it before its glow returned. She thought it might be a fire elemental; she had seen one long ago in the Middle East. Yet, when its radiance dimmed again, she took a long look and realized just what it was. This creature, roughly in the shape of a man, looked like it was made of the jagged rock one might find in a petrified forest, but as it moved, it glowed and tiny chunks of its façade crumbled off. It was a golem, but not made of sand or clay like the ones she had known.

  “Run, Peter,” she said, its eyes glowing red, like laser beams.

  “There’s nowhere to run. Pollution is here,” the creature grumbled.

  Moselle backed away. “Pollution? You all speak of Pollution. What is it?”

  “The many joined to become the one. The one is all.”

  Peter did not budge. “What the hell?”

  “Pollution destroys much in order to build much more.”

  “It caused the earthquakes?” Moselle guessed.

  The creature stepped haggardly forward and pulsated. “It did. It is.”

  “The hospital. The high-rise apartments in Beverly Hills. My home.” She put it together. “It’s been moving around, searching—”

  “Pollution does not move…”

  Moselle watched Peter’s face fall flat. “What is it, Peter?”

  “It spreads,” he whispered. “What this beast speaks of…if there’s a creature that could spread across Los Angeles… My god, if it caused the destruction of the hospital and Sabrina’s apartment, then—”

  “Peter?” Moselle prompted the man to finish as the golem took several steps closer.

  “This is Los Angeles, Moselle. Pollution is everywhere. It’s all around us.” Peter made an all-encompassing gesture.

  “All around you, human. And all beneath.”

  The pavement began to crack. As it peeled open, gases—white vaporous ones and nearly invisible ones—seeped out.

  “This is your end, human.”

  The golem began to glow brighter and Peter fell to his knees. “I—I feel ill.”

  “Don’t breathe, Peter. It’s carbon monoxide.”

  “Something more…” Peter shook.

  Moselle’s skin felt oddly warm, her senses told her to flee, but her desire to finally discover the truth was stronger. “What are you, golem?”

  “A mistake. A mishap. A tragedy. A disaster.”

  Moselle helped Peter to his feet as the golem moved closer yet. She could clearly read the pain inside the thing’s piercing red eyes.

  “No one is a mistake. The gods do not make mistakes.”

  “April 26, 1986. Pripyat, Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said as she helped Peter back peddle.

  “Chernobyl.” Peter coughed. “It’s talking about Chernobyl.”

  “A catastrophic nuclear accident. Many died. Many more were born. My people were born.”

  “That thing, it’s radiated,” Peter said. “We have to distance ourselves.”

  “Run, flee, avoid us. Everyone does,” the radiated earth golem said. “That changes now.”

  As Moselle shuffled away with Peter, she saw the golem’s glow increase. Peter grimaced and groaned. I should leave him, he will not survive this.

  A loud hiss made her look back.

  “Do you hear that, Moselle? Sounds like steam pressure building,” Peter said softly. “I wager he’s gonna explode.”

  Something told her Peter was right, so she pushed him down and covered him with her body.

  “Weston!” Jackson shouted as he ran up. “Shield them! Shield them now!”

  Weston appeared out of nowhere; it was as if he had been there all along. Moselle looked up and saw Sabrina’s former bodyguard blow past her and Peter, sparkling from the ambient light as he became more dense.

  BOOM.

  The explosion was deflected by something. She and Peter were spared—untouched. She could hear the relief in Peter’s breathing, it matched her own.

  “How did you do that, Jackson?” Moselle asked as she sat up. “How did you summon Weston?”

  “I didn’t. I just knew he was here.”

  Moselle found herself smiling and, soon after, unable to contain her laughter. “Such blessings. It’s good you knew, Jackson. Wouldn’t you agree, Peter?”

  Peter had passed out.

  “Where’s Sabrina?” she asked.

  “She’s safe.”

  “These things are related to Pollution,” Moselle explained. “Pollution is responsible for all the attacks thus far, and I fear it’s here now.”

  She watched Jackson’s head turn toward the entrance of the facility.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked as he offered her his hand. “First responders. You better hide. I’ll make sure he gets help.”

  Moselle nodded, but as she looked around, in search of a path to escape, bright eyes appeared in every shadow. “Oh no…”

  He saw it too. “Fuck, we’re surrounded.”

  Moselle made eye contact with Jackson. She grasped his shoulder, tilted her head, and sighed. “How do you Americans say it? Time’s up?”

  “Game over, Moss. Game over.”

  Cade’s Charge

  Cade hated driving. He hated having to operate any motor vehicle larger than a motorcycle. The bigger the vehicle, the more clumsy he felt. This airport fire truck was just about the biggest thing he had ever driven and it made him feel like he was trying to maneuver a cruise liner.

  “Make way!” he shouted out the window. “Make way!”

  The congestion had gotten worse the closer he got to the address he’d tracked Moselle’s phone to, and the more traffic he encountered, the more fender benders he caused. Broken mirrors, tapped bumpers—at least with the fire engine’s siren on, most of the cars tried their best to avoid him.

  “Back off! I can barely handle this monstrosity!”

  Cade was only one intersection away from his destination, and he was not going to stop now. He honked the horn as he ran the red light, then coasted into the parking lot. It felt like forever before the thing came to a stop, but the moment it did, Cade was out and up the side to the mounted fire hose turret.

  “Give ’em hell!” Cade shouted as he turned on the water and sprayed it over Jackson and Moselle and onto the dark, shiny creatures that surrounded them. As he did, the creatures retreated and his friends ran toward him.

  “Huzzah!” Cade shouted.

  He shut the water off and surveyed the scene. From his vantage, he could see damage all over the self-storage facility. It looked like the place had suffered an earthquake, and the office looked like it had been hit with mortars.

  “What the hell happened here?” Cade yelled down.

  “We’re under attack,” she replied.

  “You were.” Cade smiled. “The enemy’s in full retreat.”

  “Wait, is this vehicle mine?” Moselle asked as she approached the fire engine.

  “Hello, mama,” Joe, in his disguise, howled out the window at Moselle.

  “Who is this?” she asked. “Please tell me you are not carting filthy dogs around in one of my vehicles, Cade.”

  “I promise you, that ain’t no dog,” Cade chuckled. “And by the way, Moselle, why in blazes do you own an airport fire engine?”

  “It belongs to my father.”

  “Hey, we nee
d to get Peter some help,” Jackson interrupted as he checked the man for a pulse. “He’s in bad shape.”

  “Is that the guy?” Cade asked Moselle.

  “That is,” she replied.

  “Let him die,” Cade replied to Jackson.

  “We can’t let him die.”

  “Yes, we can.”

  Jackson approached the fire engine, looked up, and met Cade’s eyes. Cade was happy to see Jackson appeared so well; last time he saw him, he’d looked like death.

  “We have to help him, for Sabrina’s sake.”

  “Sabrina,” Cade said and compulsively licked his lips. “Where is she? She okay? Is she safe?”

  “She is wounded,” Moselle answered him.

  “Bleeding?” He sniffed the air. “I smell her yummy blood.”

  “She’s someplace safe,” Jackson stated firmly.

  “Yo, where’d they come from?” Joe poked his head out of the driver’s side of the fire engine and pointed his nose to the street.

  Cade turned around and looked down at the entrance. Black oil filled the street, sidewalk, and the entranceway.

  “These your friends, Joe?”

  “Hell no. I don’t know any of those creepy living oil guys.”

  Cade spun the water turret around to face the street. Before he turned on the water pressure, Moselle screamed and pointed up.

  Down from the dark sky swooped several large bats. Cade stared curiously at them a moment; he’d seen all sorts of bats in his life but nothing like these.

  “Fuck!” Jackson shouted. “Cade, those are like the one that attacked us at Peter’s house. They’re made of some sort of gooey shit.”

  “Hey, pal, I’m standing right here,” Joe grumbled. “You don’t hear me saying you’re made of some rubbery skin and water and shit.”

  “Can it, Joe.”

  “You can it, vamp.”

  Cade shook his head. “So these things are slimes?”

  “Damn right they are,” Joe said.

  “Flying?” Cade asked as he re-aimed the hose.

  “Yeah man. Like our air force. They fly high and issue death from above.”

  Cade turned the water pressure on and sprayed the bats before they could reach him. One by one, the water ripped the slimes apart and they dropped with a sizzle, unable to hold their shapes.