by Black, D. S.
“I’m glad to serve you, King,” Mary Jane said. “I’ll need a blood sample from you and your men. I’ll try to free you from your chains.”
They all looked at her, their dark swirling eyes burning with what she thought might be hope.
Then the king spoke, and his voice was like a knife against the air.
“Do not betray me! I’ve prepared to avoid your temptation to act foolishly. I was going to wait till after you ate, but I see no reason to wait any longer. And I fear the Voice will return at any moment.”
He looked at the general and nodded.
General Bright rose and stepped out of the room. He was gone less than five minutes.
When he returned, he wasn’t alone.
Tasha screamed; her eyes, a blaze of panic and joy, a sickening combination. “Okona! Let him go!”
Mary Jane stood, her table scratching against the floor. The King’s Guard stood in response, taking no chances regarding the king’s safety.
She stared into Duras’s eyes. Her heart fluttered, then trip hammered against her chest. Here he was, returned to her, but this time as a bargaining chip for a mad king’s apocalyptic game. She hadn’t seen him since the fall of the City of God. It seemed like ages ago, and this confirmed her worry; the king could hear her thoughts, at least when close to him.
Duras and Okona looked grizzly and worn. Unshaven, filthy, and underfed. Their eyes deep and stressed.
They couldn’t speak, at least not with their voices, but Mary Jane saw the rage in their eyes, and like Tasha; the sickening hope.
What had they been through since she’d last seen Duras? How did they come together? They’d fought each other tooth and nail for an entire year. Now? Side by side as allies? Or had they been caught separately and brought together by the Militia? The king clearly wanted them for one reason: as pawns to force her to comply with his every demand.
For now, with her heart in her throat, her stomach churning at the sight of Tommy “Duras” Morrow, the man she’d depended on for so long, tongue tied and bound by supernatural force, her compliance with the Mountain King surmounted to absolute obedience.
“Please...” she said turning to the Mountain King. “Don’t hurt them. I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t harm them.” Her face was struck with grief and worry.
“I’ll keep them alive, fed, and unharmed; provided you put all your sincere effort into finding a solution to my problem,” the king said still sitting; he’d never stood.
“We’ll do anything! Please!” Tasha screamed, her face pulsing with worry.
“But, if you betray me... let’s just say there are worst things than death I can bestow upon your wayward lovers.”
General Bright walked over and clapped Duras hard on the shoulder, gripping it like an old friend might. He spoke to Duras but said it loud enough for all to hear. “Your friends will soon discover the meaning of enteral damnation. For your sake,” he said turning his eyes to Mary Jane, “the professor better finds the king’s solution; or else you’ll reunite with your buddies in all the worst ways.”
Mary Jane watched helplessly as Duras and Okona were escorted out of the dining room. She shook with fear; scared she’d never see them again. She forced her mind to see possible solutions to please the king, ways to appease him and make him happy.
“Now those are the thoughts I want to hear!” Spade slammed his fist on the table as he rose. “Ladies! This is a trying time for you. I know. Please try and see it through my perspective. I’m up against difficult odds, a dangerous and wicked creature. It’s in all our best interests to defeat the Voice and when it’s all said and done, I’ll consider letting you and your boyfriends leave here in peace. In the meantime, I’ll see that they are fed properly. Believe it or not, they are safer here than out in the world. I know you do not want to eat around me, so let’s drop the pretense. I’ll have your dinner brought to your room, so you can enjoy a quiet evening without my brooding face hovering over you. You will receive the blood samples requested. Just don’t use them foolishly. Tomorrow the work begins!”
Spade left the room without another word, his Guard following him. Mary Jane and Tasha sat alone, the only sound their labored breathing.
2
They left the dining room, appetites ruined. Whatever small escapist joy they’d found putting on the pretty dresses, dashed and crushed by the sudden turn of events. Mary Jane’s diamond earring, the ones she put on with the dress, sparkled under the lights of the hallway. Her mind was a confused haven for a variety of thoughts; some hopeful, others dismal.
She glanced at the artwork adorning the walls. Beautiful! Scary! Amazing! How such talent existed in a wretched little man like the king dumbfounded her. Then again, was it so hard to believe great talent surfaced from the darkest of hearts?
Mary Jane thought about her options. To betray or not betray? Was it really a betrayal when coercion was used? How could she bow to the Mountain King? But if she didn’t, Duras and Okona would die, or worse; be fed to the Voice where their souls would languish forever in torment and loneliness.
She had no way to know for sure, but she didn’t think the king could hear her thoughts after a certain distance. It was only a hunch and a risky one, fatal if proved wrong. It was also her only hope of finding a way out of this, if such a chance really existed. She had to try. Had to find a way to stop the king. To save Duras and Okona.
But how?
Biology. Chemistry. Spade had given her all she needed. Blood samples, equipment to analyze it.
What about finding a cure? What was the point if they were trapped here? If she found a cure and gave it to the king; he would dole it out as he saw fit, controlling the population, massing his troops, spreading his dark territory even further.
She couldn’t find a cure yet. First she had to deal with Spade, and escape this place, equipment in tow. They could find a safe location, and she could continue her research undisturbed.
And after a day of research, she could find warmth in Duras’s arms, and Tasha in Okona’s. It could just be them. No more cities. No more helping others, just them. A family.
Wishful thinking? Maybe, but she had no choice but to try. Try and win this horrible battle. To escape with love in her arms and in her heart.
Would she fail? The odds were certainly stacked against her.
Willing to die? Yes. Better dead than serve this monster.
She moved side by side with Tasha, a new resolve growing in her soul. No matter what, she’d never be a slave. No matter the outcome, the king’s reign was coming to an end.
Locked Away
1
Duras and Okona couldn’t speak as General Bright led them to the casino’s jail. They walked past a guard station at the end of a long hallway. Duras saw his bat'leth propped in a corner near the guard’s desk. Manning the desk were two Militia soldiers, drugged out of their minds on the White Mist.
A metal door unlocked, and they were led down a hallway with jail cells on either side. Unlike most modern jails, the casino used retro bars instead of doors with small windows.
They were marched to the end of the concrete hallway. General Bright unlocked a cell on the left and forced Duras in with his mind. Okona was forced into the cell directly across from Duras.
The locks engaged, the loud click echoing off the walls with a depressing, metallic finality.
“Food will arrive shortly, gentlemen. I’ll free your tongues now. Enjoy your stay,” General Bright said, then chuckled with morbid delight.
“What did you do with the others!” Duras screamed, grabbing the bars.
Okona joined him. “Tell us! Are they dead?”
General Bright smiled, then said: “Nothing so merciful, I’m afraid. When the Voice returns, its dinner awaits. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to gather one more soul for the Voice.”
Despite their pleas for more answers, the general walked away briskly, his black boots clicking against the cold concrete floor.
>
They sat in silence for a while. Somewhere a pipe leaked water, dripping down and pooling in one of the other cells. The air was cold, the concrete offering a dismal decor. The cells had no windows, and a small cot with gray blankets and white pillows. Occasionally, the sound of drugged laughter floated down from the guard room.
Duras sat on his cot, lost in weariness. His eyes flirted with sleep, he dozed off.
The loud clang of the guard door woke him, the smell of food piercing his stomach.
The guard, a large hairy man with filthy black hair handed Duras and Okona a plate of food. To Duras’s surprise and delight, it wasn’t half bad. Not fancy, but tasty. Hamburgers and fries, simple and filling.
They ate in silence, clearly not in a mood to talk. After Duras finished his food, he looked over and saw Okona wrapped in a gray blanket sleeping, his bald head peeping out of the top like a turtle.
Duras tried to find humor in that, but only discovered isolation and loneliness. What was happening? Why did these fucks want Mary Jane?
She’s alive.
The thought offered warmth and comfort, even if only momentary and he welcomed it. He laid down, rested his head on his pillow, and wrapped the blanket around him.
2
Duras slept, and his mind took him down a frighteningly dark nightmare. He walked down the streets of the City of God. Blood ran over the cobblestones ankle deep. The bodies of children, bloated and rotting lay here and there like dead fleshy islands. Worms crawled out of their mouths and eyes. The stench rose from their purpled white bodies. Their eyes looked like fish eggs.
He heard a scream, Mary Jane. He tried to run and help, but the river of blood rose higher, slowing him down as he pushed against the strengthening red current. Her screams sounded as though a knife cut into her, ripping organs out, spilling her blood, adding to the rising blood river coursing over white cobble stones.
“Hey boss.”
Duras looked over to the left as Vice floated by, face up.
“Nice night. Right, boss?”
Duras watched as his friend floated by, still staring up at the sky. Then the first drops started falling. Duras looked up and saw black clouds with touches of green and red. Hot rain fell, burning his flesh. As in most dreams, he felt no pain, even as he stared at the rising lesions forming on his skin.
Mary Jane screamed again, this time so piercingly loud Duras fell over, splashing in the river of blood, tasting the coppery water as it filled his mouth. He jumped out of the rising tide, screaming, crying. His tears looked like blood as they mixed with the water he’d fallen in. He put his hands in his soaking wet hair and pulled, hoping to scream the fear away. His hands came away with large clumps of his hair. He threw it away, horrified.
The blood river rose past his chest, flirting with his chin. He couldn’t see under the water; the blood was too thick. He felt bodies, dozens of corpses rushing by him, their clammy hands grabbing his legs, his crotch, pulling him underneath the blood water.
3
As Duras screamed in a nightmare filled with blood water and dead bodies, Okona roamed through what looked like his former tree fortress. He smelled something horrible and sickening. Then he noticed the dead bodies hanging from the trees like horrific Christmas decorations. The dead eyes stared at him as he walked between the trees. The trees were gray, wilting, leaning over, dying. He shivered. A grayish white fog rose up, enveloping him up to his knees. He felt a drop of something wet splash on his bald head. He looked up and screamed. Tasha’s body was flayed open, twirling from the rope she hung from. Her blood dripped down hitting him in the eye. He scrambled away, wiping the back of his hand against his eye, trying desperately to rid himself of his lover’s blood.
The sounds of whimpering started and grew in volume. The sounds of hundreds of crying children, all whining in agonizing pain. He couldn’t see them, but they surrounded him, everywhere he turned their cries called out to him. A loud crunch came from underneath his boot. He looked down. Bones everywhere. The forest was filled with bones, skulls, arms, legs, hips. Empty eye sockets looked at him, the mouths still filled with smiling teeth.
He ran, stumbled, fell, crashing into the bones. He smelled the dry bone dust, felt the brittleness in his hands as he pushed himself up. He screamed, tears running down his cheeks. He ran. The bones crunched underneath his boots. Each labored breath he took filled his lungs with bone dust. He whizzed, trying to find the oxygen needed to escape this forest of bodies, blood and bone. Everywhere he turned more bodies appeared, more bones to crush as he ran, more dust to choke him. The fog rose up to his chest and he realized it wasn’t fog at all, but bone dust. The remains of thousands of people.
He fell, he dissolved, so he fell into the shroud of bone dust. He stood, but now the foggy dust rose above his head, drowning him in death.
He gagged, grabbing his throat begging for air. His throat was caked in the dust.
He closed his eyes, fell and waited to die.
4
Duras woke with a jolt, sweat poured down his body; he felt sick and dizzy. He looked over and saw Okona sitting on the edge of the cot breathing heavily, rubbing his throat as though he’d been choking.
“We’ve been fools,” Okona said; his eyes distant.
“You can say that again…Two fuck heads. Fighting over Old World nonsense.”
“Now look at us, and our friends.”
“You think they are dead?” Duras asked, already knowing the answer.
“Worse than dead.”
“Jesus!” Duras put his head in his hands, his long brown hair falling over his fingers.
“Now Tasha faces danger thanks to us.”
“Mary Jane. She loves me. I love her,” Duras said, wiping a single tear from under his left eye. “I never could have survived this long without her.”
“The same is true about Tasha. She’s my guiding strength. After I lost my family…”
“I know the feeling,” Duras said, making eye contact with Okona.
“Listen, Tommy…I’m sorry about everything between us. I don’t know how long we have, but I want you to know I’m sorry. Sorry for going after your business before the Fever, and sorry for contributing to our childish feud after the Fever.”
Duras nodded his head. “You’re not the only asshole. My stubborn arrogance and bitter anger made this situation what it is.”
They sat, not saying anything for nearly an hour. Duras thought about the times with Mary Jane. The fun they had smoking weed, drinking, laughing. The amazing sex. He thought about Vice, Ice Man, and Rhino. True friends. Warriors who stood by each other through the roughest times. Where were they now? He didn’t want to know; or did he? He pushed the question out of his mind.
Across from him, Okona thought of Tasha. The kisses, the sex. Had he known she was carrying his child, his grief would have been unbearable.
He thought of Andre and Chris. The comic book store. Movies. Games. TV. The Old World.
“Why do we keep fighting?” Okona asked.
“Because we have to. Killing ourselves was never an option, was it? Men like us can’t do that. Just too damn stubborn,” Duras said, running his hand through his long filthy hair. “Least they could do is offer a damn shower.”
They looked at each other and laughed. The laughter came in bellowing gasps, taking their breath, fears, and worries away—at least for the moment. Duras fell on his cot, holding his stomach.
Okona went to his knees, tears streaming down his face, his laughter loud. “They…could…let us bath!” he said between gasps.
“They like our stench!” Duras curled his knees to his chest, laughing like a school boy.
As the laugher died down, their faces took on stoic expressions.
“We’re totally, and completely fucked,” Duras said.
“I think you’re right. Fucked in every way imaginable.”
The door banged open down the hall. Footsteps approached. They both stood.
“Brea
kfast,” said a drugged guard. “No idea why you idiots get special treatment, but here.”
The guard handed them their breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and toast.
“No shower, but great food service,” Okona said.
“I’ll take whatever the fuck they are giving. I’m starved!”
They ate their food in silence, relishing each bite as though it was their last.
In the Lab
Mary Jane stared into the microscope, amazed at what she saw. Cells multiplying, reinforcing their strength, their power. It was like the invisible hands of God working. If she had the time to study this longer, she could cure cancer. Hell, she could end sickness and death altogether. The Fever? Could the king’s blood be used to reverse or stop the transformation in living humans? She wanted that, but it was a pipe dream. She couldn’t waste time trying to save the world when Duras sat in a jail cell, and the Mountain King didn’t care about a cure for the Fever. He only wanted a way to fight the Voice, and at least at the moment, Mary Jane had no idea how to do that. She would need to study Dead Zone Black for any chance of finding information which would lead to a method of fighting a creature so alien, so powerful.
What she did know was that the Mountain King could be stopped, slowed down, at least long enough for him to die; and he could die, even if he was cocky enough to see himself as invincible. These incredible mutations she had studied for the last eight hours since the time she woke up, dressed, and ate breakfast fascinated her, scared her, but she discovered they could die, just not quite as easily. That wasn’t quite true, the cells, the biology of the Mountain King, his flesh could die with a single shot to the head; but the powers these mutations gave him offered a much harder target to go after. He could see minds, thoughts, motivations, fight back in ways no human could defeat without the greatest amount of luck.
But…
