Southern Ouroboros

by Matt Kilby

  “Maybe not. Maybe I thought talking would give me time to get my pistol out of its holster. I have a full clip of those green slugs you love so much and guarantee you’ll be in my place before you squeeze another inch. Or you can let me up so I can take you where you want to go.”

  “I want to go home,” Joe muttered.

  “Then I’ll take you to where he wants you to go.”

  “Wolgiss?”

  “There’s that name again,” Ford shook his head. “He must have done a number on you to name all the shadows after him.”

  “I saw what he managed from a prison cell. Now that he’s free, he’s taken all the people I care about and left me to rot. If he’s the one on the intercom, I’ll take my chances with your gun.”

  Ford smiled. “You’re wrong in so many ways I don’t know where to start.”

  “Which is why you shouldn’t, Sergeant Ford,” the voice spoke again from the ceiling. “Bring him like you were told.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ford mumbled and waited for Joe to decide. His instincts said to squeeze hard and fast and kill the man there, but they had been built by Pharaoh’s fists. Joe couldn’t trust them so let his hands fall, standing up and away from Ford though he didn’t help him to his feet. The sergeant rose, legs trembling when his weight was on them. If he held any grudge, he didn’t show it as he found his balance and started down the hall. Joe followed him through the hallways, which straightened and stretched until he told himself it was impossible for them to go on forever. Nothing could, but he was sure they walked a mile before Ford slipped a keycard into a door panel. Inside the room, two guards held assault rifles at their shoulders, ready to shoot if Joe blinked too fast. They looked him over, but his blood-drenched towel left little room to smuggle a weapon, so they swiped their cards to open the door behind them. It led into another short hallway with three doors. In the last, an older man in uniform sat at a table, a brief smile twitching his gray moustache when he saw Joe.

  “Joseph Richards,” he savored the words as if they were a magic spell. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this.”

  “Try me,” Joe said.

  “In time. First sit and catch your breath.”

  “When I’m home in my bed with my son in his. That’s the only way you’ll leave this room alive.”

  The man frowned. “How far do you think killing will get you? Everyone in this facility swore to die before we let you back into the world. You’ll never get outside on your own. You’ll wander this place until you lose your mind. Your son will grow old and die while you circle the same corpses and eventual bones.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Joe asked.

  “I’m not,” the man shook his head. “I wouldn’t have the stomach to come up with this on my own, but it’s necessary, so I follow orders. We have to make sure everything happens the way it’s meant to.”

  “I’ve heard that before. Someone sold you a line about fate and, for some stupid reason, you bought it. I saw where that ends watching Pine Haven burn.”

  The man nodded. “I helped plan it and might never sleep a full night again.”

  “What?” Joe sharpened his eyes as he stepped forward, stopping when Ford put the muzzle of his sidearm to the back of his head.

  “There’s no need for that, Sergeant,” the man said. “Dr. Richards has every reason to be upset. He blames me for his wife’s death because he doesn’t know better. We wanted to fix that, but we have to let him process it in his own way.”

  “It won’t matter if he gets his hands on you,” Ford said.

  “He got them on you,” the man raised an eyebrow. “Holster your gun. If I’m wrong, you can shoot him and try things your way.”

  Ford’s sigh brushed Joe’s bare shoulder, but he took the gun away.

  “Thank you,” the man looked at Ford and then Joe. “Now, Dr. Richards. Will you sit so I can help you understand?”

  Joe didn’t like the idea. If the man was honest, he owned the blame for every bad thing that happened to him in the last year. For that, Joe wanted to vent the rage building since he let Elaine go but instead pulled out a chair and slumped into it.

  “Thank you for your restraint. I watched you with Pharaoh and know you could as easily have killed us both.”

  “I still might,” Joe scowled. “You said you have answers. I suggest you give them.”

  “Fair enough. Where do you want me to start?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Desmond Jacobs, though I doubt the name means anything to you. I was a sergeant in the Army during the Vietnam War and made a discovery there that changed my life.”

  “An unkillable man,” Joe said.

  “Something like that, but we both know the stowaway spirit inside him held all the potential.”

  “So you recruited him.”

  “No,” Jacobs said. “He wasn’t interested. A few years later, he came to me and said he needed to go to Africa, so I helped him.”

  Joe glared. “Do you have any idea what you helped him do?”

  “Do you? Because I felt guilty when only one man came out alive, but when I talked to him, he offered perspective.”

  “Wolgiss fed you the same bullshit he does everyone,” Joe shook his head.

  “I didn’t talk to Wolgiss,” he shook his head. “This one called himself Sagin and had one hell of a story. He told me what was coming, that the only way to control fate is to follow it. He promised to help us survive—not me or Ford but America. Our ideals. Our freedom.”

  “Sounds like he told you what you wanted to hear.”

  “Maybe,” Jacobs shrugged, “but he is our best chance at seeing the other side. I did what was best for my country, like I always have.”

  “How does my wife’s murder fit into that?”

  “I wish I had an answer,” Jacobs said, “but casualties were unavoidable. You can make choices to spill the least innocent blood, but someone always dies. I thought you would understand more than anyone.”

  “Why?” Joe said, though he knew the answer well. But Jacobs shouldn’t. No one else should, even if they hid in the smoke that day and memorized every choice he made. They wouldn’t know how many times he lived it or the torture when he turned his back on Elaine.

  “You sacrificed your wife for the same reasons,” Jacobs said. “You put her on a scale across from everyone else and made the tough but necessary choice.”

  “How do you know?”

  “When Grady walked out of the jungle in one piece, we took him to a secure facility. I visited him and offered a way to vanish, but he told me who he was and what would happen in Pine Haven—why it needed to. He said he needed to spend the next thirty years in prison to be at Starks when you came for him.”

  “That was Wolgiss,” Joe shook his head.

  “I’m afraid not,” Jacobs said.

  “Sagin never walked out of Africa,” Joe insisted. “Wolgiss buried him so deep in Grady’s mind, I had to hypnotize him out.”

  “Wolgiss would have changed everything if he had the chance, so Sagin did what was necessary to keep it all on its path. Grady had to believe Wolgiss was in control so he could convince you. The men who murdered and burned that town needed him to corrupt them. Wolgiss refused to play his part, so Sagin played it for him. He convinced Grady he was dead and trapped Wolgiss. Your hypnosis freed him, but by then, it was too late to stop Pine Haven from burning.”

  “Was that what he wanted to change?”

  “I don’t know,” Jacobs shook his head. “I don’t think it matters now. What does is what’s coming, but Sagin told me how to prepare.”

  “Do you trust every disembodied voice that claims to know the future?”

  “He was right about you down to the letter,” Jacobs smiled.

  “So what is this place then?”

  “A training ground. According to Sagin, the world we recognize will end soon. Someone will have to rebuild, so we wanted an army resilient enough to survive whatever happen
s and guide the world that follows. Sagin donated his blood to the cause, and our scientists found something fascinating. Are you ready, Dr. O’Neal?”

  The door opened again and O’Neal walked in, giving Joe a short nod before joining Jacobs across the table. He carried a tablet computer and swiped a finger across its screen, darkening the room. A light projected a dark blob on the wall, floating between Jacobs and O’Neal with an array of pinpoints inside it like stars.

  “Hello, Dr. Richards,” O’Neal said. “Good to see you again.”

  “Thanks to your note.”

  Jacobs glanced at the doctor with a question on his face, but O’Neal shrugged it off.

  “Do you recognize this image?” he nodded at the screen.

  Joe shook his head.

  “This is a blood sample we drew from Grady before he was sent to Fort Leavenworth,” he split the screen with another swipe. A second blob appeared beside the first, this one all dark. “This second sample was taken from a volunteer. Notice those tiny specks are missing from the blood. We don’t have any idea what they are or do, only that this blood sample is the only case we could find in a thorough search of modern medical history. When Jacobs brought us in on the project, he called it the key to immortality. I thought he was joking.”

  “I would have worried if you didn’t,” Jacobs smiled.

  O’Neal tapped the screen. “In a matter of days, I found this.”

  The two images were replaced by a single view of the volunteer’s blood. A needle appeared in the corner and added a drop of something to the liquid. At first, Joe couldn’t tell what it was, but it spread fast, leaving white specks twinkling in its wake.

  “What was that?” Joe asked.

  “That,” Jacobs answered, “is Project Nephilim.”

  “Nephilim?” Joe echoed.

  “Biblical, I believe. I couldn’t care less about the name, only the results. We injected the volunteer with Grady’s blood and waited. It didn’t take long for him to become something else.”

  “What?” Joe leaned in to stare.

  O’Neal shrugged. “You’re in the best position to say. You’ve fought him around fifteen times in the past two weeks.”

  “Pharaoh,” Joe said.

  “He was the first,” Jacobs nodded. “We found him on the street, so hungry and desperate he would have agreed to anything. I wanted to pick someone else, but Sagin insisted.”

  “So you injected a homeless man with blood because a voice in his head said to?”

  “Something like that. Sagin asked for an army, so we gave him one.”

  “For what?”

  “For you,” Jacobs chuckled. “Did you think you were fighting because we couldn’t find anything good on TV?”

  “We needed to make you strong enough to lead our soldiers,” O’Neal said.

  “Why would I do that?” Joe narrowed his eyes. “Why would I do anything you ask? You took me from my son and had me beaten. Tortured. After all that, what makes you think I’ll just fall in line?”

  “Because Sagin said you would,” Jacobs said. “He told us it took time, but he came around.”

  “He came around,” Joe repeated.

  “You still don’t understand,” Jacobs offered a sympathetic smile. “I thought you would put the pieces together, but I guess you need it spelled out. You’re Sagin, Dr. Richards, or you will be by the time you come back.”

  “It isn’t possible,” Joe said.

  “Which part? You touched a rock to become more than human and have been hurt in ways no one should survive, but there you sit without a scratch. Don’t you understand why Sergeant Ford knew where you were the night he brought you here? We were ahead of you at every step because we knew what your steps would be.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Joe shook his head.

  “I think you do,” Jacobs said, “but Sagin knows you better. He gave us something else.”

  He nodded to O’Neal, who tapped his tablet again. The projection changed from the blood sample to a familiar face. Grady looked as he had at Starks Prison but with a confidence that didn’t fit the man Joe remembered. Looking into his eyes felt more like staring into a mirror, convincing him more than any words. Still, he listened to what his old patient had to say.

  “Hello, Joe,” Grady said. “It’s been a long time since I sat where you are now, but I remember how it felt. How lost. How much like betrayal. I don’t expect you to understand my choices. When it’s your turn to make them, you still won’t, but they’ll be the best options you have. I know it’s hard to accept you could be responsible for what happened to Elaine and Pine Haven, but I have something that will help. I have memories of things you never told anyone. The night before Dan Thomas died, he took you to the Memorial Hill parking lot and hypnotized you.”

  Joe shook his head and realized he couldn’t stop. He would have covered his ears, but it was too late.

  “You met your father in that dark place, and he led you through memories you tried to forget. Your mother’s death and the day before, when you walked in on him with another woman. You told her and she drove crying through the rain, her death as much your fault as your father’s years later. Time doesn’t make it better, but we’ve both seen worse things. Watching your wife die so many times while you try to find a way to save everyone. Accepting it as impossible and knowing the best choice is not the best for you. You can try to rationalize how I know, but there is one simple truth. This message is being recorded thirty years before you drive towards the end of Elaine’s life.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Joe covered his face, but it didn’t help. As much as he wanted to deny everything, he had no choice but to accept it. It sapped his will to fight back to whatever was left of his life. It left him numb.

  “One day,” Grady continued, “you’ll come to terms with this. You’ll stand against Wolgiss, and the army Jacobs is building is a necessary start. They are the Children of Fire, who will shape the world as much as you will. I wish your hard times were over, but there are plenty to come. Prepare for them and know the road under your feet is the right one as long as you follow the stone.”

  The screen went dark, but Joe stared where it’d been until Jacobs cleared his throat. Joe glanced at him for a few seconds before he stood and turned to the doorway.

  “Whatever you expected from me, you’re not getting it,” he said on his way out. “I’ll never see my son again, right?”

  He glanced back to see Jacobs nod.

  “You should have spent more time with Sagin,” Joe shook his head. “Hell, watching me should have given you the general idea. I was stubborn enough when I had a wife and son to consider, but you took both from me. You say the world is going to burn? Hand me some matches. Give me an army and I’ll make sure they never see a battle. I’m not your pawn or savior, so take me to my room.”

  “You’ll come around,” Jacobs said.

  “If you think so, you don’t know me at all.”

  Jacobs considered him and looked at Dr. O’Neal. “Is he in place?”

  O’Neal nodded.

  “What now?” Joe looked from one to the other.

  “You’ll find out,” Jacobs hinted a smile. “We’ll see how stubborn you are then.”

  He nodded at Ford, the sergeant walking past Joe into the hallway. He didn’t look back to make sure he followed, forcing Joe to catch up. He managed it at the broken monitors outside the examination room.

  “You buy all that stuff?” Joe asked the back of his head.

  “I do,” Ford said and didn’t look back. “I left my kids for this. I volunteered to help protect the future Sagin described, but I have to say meeting you has been a disappointment.”

  “Tell me how you really feel,” Joe huffed, and Ford turned to look into his face.

  “You know where you are now. This hallway leads to the fighting circle.”

  Pushing past, Joe tried to make sense out of it all but couldn’t line up his thoughts. How could he put himself through
what happened in Pine Haven last summer? How could he make himself suffer, no matter how bad the alternatives? He couldn’t imagine a future that justified it, but he didn’t have any energy left to imagine much. He walked, aware of Ford watching as he continued past the markers with his name and then Pharaoh’s. At the end, he passed through the divided wall and into the white circle. The bodies were gone, their blood washed and bleached so the room was ready for two more idiots to hack each other to pieces. In the middle of the circle, a man was tied to a chair, his bald head hung to show dark bruises along his skull. Blood crusted his nostrils and stained the white of one of his eyes; otherwise, he looked like the last time Joe saw him.

  “Jim Stucker,” he exhaled. Jim looked up with terror in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he trembled. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I did too many drugs that week. The pressure of the rest didn’t help.”

  “A magic rock and time-traveling ghosts,” Joe said and Jim stiffened, his battered head rocking to look at him.

  “That’s what it was.”

  “I know,” Joe walked to him. He got so close Jim closed his eyes, cringing for his inevitable end. Standing in front of him, Joe could do everything he wanted to the man. He even considered it. Jim Stucker would die easy, but that was what they wanted. Instead, he walked away.

  “You do?” Jim asked. The hush in his voice told Joe he still had his eyes shut, thinking he was a blink away from dying.

  “Sure,” Joe kept walking. “But rocks or ghosts didn’t put a screwdriver through my wife’s neck. That was you, and you’ll pay, but someone else can take care of it.”

  He stopped outside the section of wall that led into his apartment, waiting for the panel to slide away. When it didn’t, he addressed the nearest light fixture.

  “Open the door,” he demanded, but the wall remained solid.

  “We bring you the man who killed your wife and you let him live?” Jacobs asked over the intercom. “I’m not sure which is worse: being ungrateful or denying yourself revenge.”

  “I’m saving revenge for the people responsible for putting me here,” Joe said. “If I’m one of them, I’ll need to be more creative than murdering a helpless man.”