Family Secrets (The Nocturnia Chronicles Book 2)

by Thomas F Monteleone

  Still…never hurt to be too careful, so he kept his head down when he answered.

  “Um, Teddy.”

  “Well, Teddy, they calls me Ergel. And Ergel is new here.”

  “Welcome to the Uberalls, Ergel. What brings you here?”

  “Well, as Ergel’s been tellin’ folks, he had a bit of a miscommunification with his former employer, Master Simon.”

  “Really? Can’t you straighten it out?”

  “Ergel’s tryin’, he’s tryin’.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Well, that be very kind, Teddy, but Ergel needs to locatify and reappropriate some lost items, and you can’t help him with that.”

  Those lost items wouldn’t happen to be runaway slaves, would they? Telly thought.

  When Ergel first arrived, he’d made it sound like he’d been kicked out, yet he’d pulled up in one of the Armagost Farm trucks. It was parked outside the compound right now. Why would he be driving that if he was persona non grata with Simon? Well, why not ask?

  He put on his most innocent voice. “Didn’t you arrive in one of Master Simon’s trucks?”

  The troll’s eyes narrowed. “Ergel did, he did indeed. What’s yer point?”

  “Oh, nothing. I just think it’s very kind of Master Simon to let you have it, despite your, um, miscommunification.”

  “What’re y’fixatin’ there?”

  The abrupt change of subject jarred Telly for a second. Ergel obviously hadn’t thought anyone would notice the truck.

  “Oh, um, just a nut grinder. See, you turn this crank and–”

  Ergel barked a laugh. “Nut grinder! That’s for babies is what it is. Who needs a mechanicatal nut grinder when yer gots teef?”

  “Well, there’s that.” He wanted to add that not everyone had big yellow molars the size of ice cubes, but held back.

  Ergel leaned closer and treated Telly to a whiff of trollatosis as he said, “Here, wasn’t there talk about a human spyer in the Uberalls just a few days back? Seems my ex-master be sayin’ somethin’ along that nature.”

  “Oh, that turned out to be nothing.”

  “Seems to Ergel it’d be pretty easy for a human to pretendicate to be a lycan. All he’d have to do is just gluify some hairs to his palms and–”

  “No need to worry yourself about it. We all got tested and nobody turned up human.”

  “What about Ergel? You think they’re gonna testify him to make sure he ain’t human?”

  This must have struck him as hilarious because he walked away laughing and slapping one of his thick, squat thighs.

  Telly remembered the terror of having his finger stuck and blood squeezed out for the test. The thought he’d been a goner for sure. He still had no idea how he’d passed. Then again, maybe they never had a blood test for humanness. Maybe it had all been a bluff to see if anyone refused the test, or tried to escape. Whatever, he still had his skin and was still an Uberall.

  He glanced across the courtyard just in time to see Dr. Koertig exit to the parking area. Damn that troll. A couple of seconds later and Telly would have missed him.

  He waited a few minutes, then hurried across the courtyard. No one was out and about at the moment – things tended to be quieter and more relaxed with Falzon visiting his native land half way around the world. Trying to look like he had every right to enter the lab, Telly stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

  He’d spent much of yesterday testing and retesting the cardonite detector. He found nothing that would cause a false alarm. Dr. Koertig hadn’t been happy with the report, but he’d accepted it. During the course of the day he’d learned that the scientist did not lock the lab when he went out. And why should he? Only Uberalls were allowed in the compound, and they all knew better than to mess with Doc Koertig’s stuff.

  And maybe I should know that too, Telly thought as he hurried down the hall toward the breach generator, but I’ve got to try this. I’ve got to know.

  And he had to be quick. Dr. Koertig could return any minute.

  He’d watched the pluriban use it to spy on his home town and it didn’t look to difficult to operate. The controls were fairly intuitive and it took him only a few minutes to get it up and running. It might have taken much longer if the settings weren’t already configured for Skelton Springs, Kansas.

  He veered his tiny viewport around town like a drunk until he got the hang of it, then got his bearings. He was zooming past a newsstand when he spotted a rack filled with the local paper, the Eternal. The Skelton Springs Eternal… the name had probably been funny for a few seconds half a century ago when the paper started, but most folks in town these days didn’t recognize the bad pun. The headline brought him to a wrenching halt.

  NO SURVIVORS

  Entire Family Missing

  Below the header was a color photo of a rubble-filled foundation – siding, roofing, shattered wallboard. What had once been a house was nothing but fragments and a basement. Emma and Ryan had said they’d seen the family home hit by the tornado. Could this …?

  He couldn’t see the rest of the front page. Without thinking he tried to reach through and grab a copy but his arm wouldn’t pass.

  Telly let out a whimper as he zoomed the peephole down the street and out of town.

  “No-no-no-no!”

  It took him a few seconds to realize that he didn’t have to follow streets. He could move as the crow flies, zipping through front yards and back as he made his way home. As first everything looked fine – these homes were unscathed. But as he neared his folks’ neighborhood, signs of damage began to appear. Missing siding and shingles here, broken windows there. Then…

  …total destruction.

  Trees stripped bare, telephone poles snapped, lawns and gardens churned up, shattered, splintered lumber everywhere.

  He wanted 429 Clemens Street, but he lost his bearings as familiar landmarks vanished. Street signs were down, familiar houses were obliterated. He couldn’t even find Clemens Street, let alone number 429.

  And then he came to the shattered remains of a house on a lot that looked vaguely familiar. He realized it was the same ruin he’d seen on the front page of the Eternal. Was it 429? The front door that had displayed the number was gone, so was the mailbox. Wait… it had been stenciled on the curb.

  He angled the view downward and moved along the street, hoping against hope that–

  “No!”

  There it was, in black letters on the concrete curb: 429.

  The headline had said no survivors. They couldn’t know about him and about Emma and Ryan, but Mom and Steve… he couldn’t believe they hadn’t made it. Steve wasn’t his real dad, but he couldn’t have asked for a better stepdad. And Mom… Mom was…

  Telly’s throat locked as he choke back a sob. Gone! He couldn’t believe it. They’d been killed by a lousy rotten wind cloud. And Emma and Ryan – oh, God, he had to face the fact that they’d been eaten alive by whatever the Silent Ones had unleashed on Balmore.

  He turned off the breach generator and stumbled away. He wasn’t just an orphan now, he was totally alone, with no family in either Humania or Nocturnia.

  He needed air. He staggered down the hallway and burst into the courtyard. Gasping, he wandered blindly along the side walls, wondering what he was going to do with himself. He’d been simply existing, living day to day until Emma and Ryan had shown up. They’d given him a purpose – returning them home – but without them, that direction vanished. And even if they were still alive, there was nothing waiting for them back in Skelton Springs.

  He stepped through a random doorway and found himself in the anteroom to Falzon’s office and living quarters. With the boss away, the necro receptionist was lounging on a chair in the waiting area, shoes off, feet up, watching the TV. Someone else was moving behind a stack of chairs in the rear corner.

  “Whatta you want?” he snarled. “The boss is gone for the week.”

  What do I want? Telly thought. Good question. I
haven’t the faintest idea.

  “Hang on,” the necro said, eyes fixed on the TV. “Maybe they’ll show it again.”

  “Show what?” An automatic response. Telly didn’t care in the least.

  “Coupla your fellow lycans chasing down a sheeple. They tore him to pieces in seconds!”

  Telly tried to imagine something he wanted to see less, but couldn’t, but he reflexively glanced at the screen: an overhead shot of a wooded area with a bunch of sign-carrying people outside a fence.

  “Who are those? Hunt fans?”

  “Nah. Crazy no-carns. They wanted to stop the hunt. Can you believe it?”

  I’m ready to believe anything in this crazy land, he thought.

  As the overhead camera focused in on the cluster of protestors, Telly turned away, but whirled back when a girl with a familiar shade of red hair caught his eye. As if on cue, she looked up at the camera.

  Emma! That’s Emma! And Ryan’s beside her! They’re alive!

  He pumped both fists in the air, shouting, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” as he ran back out into the courtyard.

  14

  Ergel heard the shouting and straightened up from where he’d been scrubbifying a stack of chairs. He saw that fixating fellow, Teddy, running out the door like he’d just inherited a Midnight Delights factory.

  His gaze drifted to the TV and he took in a sharp breath as he caught sight the redheaded slave girly and her rotten little brother. Just a glimpsicate and she was gone, but it was enough.

  “Here, what’s yer got on there?”

  The necro looked up from where he was so carelessly relaxicating. “Sheeple hunt. What’s it to ya?”

  “When’d it happen?”

  “Yer fulla questions, aren’t ya?”

  “Never mind that, ya lazy bag of rottifying meats.” Ergel jabbed a finger at the screen. “When?”

  “Today. Now get outa here and stop botherin’ me.”

  “Oh, Ergel’s gettin’,” he said, heading for the door. “Ergel’s gettin’, all right.”

  So, this meant Master Simon’s dear boy Dillon was lying. The two slaves being devourated in the Silent Ones attack – not egg-zackly! Not a-tall! He ought to wringify the little lycan’s scrawny neck. But that wouldn’t get Ergel back in Master Simon’s good graces.

  Reappropriating those two humanses would, however. And not only that, but it would preventicate Master Simon from facing the wrath of Falzon, and that was important for all concerned.

  Ergel spotted Teddy the fixator, still looking happy. He’d been watching the TV when he started cheering, and the escaped humanses had been on the screen. Was that why he was happy? ’Cause he saw them? Or would it be somethin’ else?

  Ergel would pondercate about that later. Right now he knew where they hunted those sheeples and he was gonna head there and grab those two brats.

  15

  “Will someone please answer me?” Ryan said, trying to keep from shouting in the tight confines of the car.

  Emma shifted beside him. “You’re being totally annoying.”

  Cal had shotgun again, so he’d been stuck in the backseat with his sister since leaving the Save-the-Sheeple march. They’d left Dillon to return home with his mother. Everyone had been talking about the protest and the poor sheeple whose screams they’d heard and the woman they’d saved from the hunt. Orin kept going on about what a wonderful thing that was and Ryan had to keep biting his tongue to stop himself from saying that they’d only delayer her murder.

  “But I’m trying to find out about this Doctor Bluthkalt guy.”

  “That’s all you’ve talked about.”

  “But nobody’s answering.”

  Cal half turned in the front. “He’s dead and gone, Ryan.”

  “Then why am I dreaming about him?!?!”

  The car went silent.

  Orin finally spoke. “Did you say you were dreaming about him?”

  “Yes. Just last night – or early this morning, or whatever. I kept hearing his name.”

  “Wellll, there’s an easy explanation for that. Someone must have mentioned his name and it stuck in your head.”

  “But I never heard the name before I dreamt it. The first time I heard it spoken was just a little while ago when Cal said he invented sheeple. Believe me, I think I’d remember hearing a name like that.”

  “Heinrich Bluthkalt,” Orin said with a shake of his head. “Why would anyone want to dream about him?”

  “I didn’t want to,” Ryan said. “And it wasn’t about him. Just his name.”

  “He took normal human beings and made them into… into farm animals,” Emma said. “Sounds like a monster to me.”

  “But if you look at it from the other side,” Orin said, “that made him a hero to a lot of Nocturnians.”

  “But Cal, didn’t you call him ‘Crazy Doctor Bluthkalt’?”

  “That’s what people call him.”

  “He went from admired scientist to hated fool in no time,” Orin said. “Even his fellow pluribans threw him out.”

  That surprised Ryan. “He was a pluriban? Like Doctor Koertig?”

  “Exactly. They even worked together for a while.”

  “Really.” Now this was interesting. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the back of the front seat. “Tell me all about him.”

  “Wait a second. How do you know about Doctor Koertig and not Doctor Bluthkalt?”

  “I met Doctor Koertig at the Uberall compound. He’s the one who snatched me and Emma from the tornado.”

  “You two owe him your lives?” Cal said.

  “Well, he saved our lives,” Emma said, “then he gave us to Falzon who leased us out to Master Simon. I don’t think we owe him anything.”

  Ryan agreed, but this was getting off topic.

  “Bluthkalt? Please?”

  “Wellll,” Orin said, “Heinrich Bluthkalt is not only the evil genius behind sheeple, but he and Doctor Koertig did a lot of experiments on humans. Pluribans like to swap human body parts in and out, but that wasn’t good enough for Bluthkalt. He decided he could improve on those body parts. Why replace a pair of feet with just another pair of feet when you could replace them with flippers – or fuse both legs into a fish tale when you wanted to go swimming? Why not make eyes that could see in the dark? Or a hand that works like an octopus tentacle?”

  “Or a claw!” Ryan said, remembering Doctor Koertig making repairs to his machine with that narrow lobster pincer.

  “Exactly.”

  Emma made a face. “That’s disgusting!”

  “Disgusting to you, maybe, but the pluribans thought it was the best thing since chocolate cake. It seems Doctors Bluthkalt and Koertig had a falling out about this time, and so Bluthkalt went out on his own and started a spare parts company specializing in human limbs and organs created to order for specific tasks. They became all the rage among Pluribans and he made a fortune. But then something went terribly wrong.”

  Cal was nodding. “The Great Pluriban Plague.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Wellll,” Orin said, “Bluthkalt was genetically altering his human clones to make these changes, and along the way he accidentally altered a virus that became incorporated into the parts. Any pluriban who used them got sick and died a horrible death. It became known as the Great Pluriban Plague and it decimated the Pluribus Union.”

  “From hero to heel almost overnight,” Cal said.

  Orin said, “He became a fugitive, a hunted man. The Pluriban High Court put out a call for his arrest for ‘crimes against the nation,’ as they called it. But when the pluriban police came to arrest him, he was gone. He disappeared for years, and that’s when they think he became a little unhinged. He began to develop crazy ideas. He’d write articles and send them to newspapers all over Nocturnia. He was so famous by then – or infamous, I should say – that no one turned them down.”

  This was fascinating.

  “What kind of ideas?”

  “Wellll, we kn
ow there are two worlds, Nocturnia and Humania, occupying the same place in space but in parallel universes, right?”

  Emma shook her head. “We didn’t last week, but we sure do now.”

  “Wellll, Bluthkalt – this is when people started calling him Crazy Doctor Bluthkalt – said there was a third world occupying our space in yet another dimension. He called it the Hidden World.” Orin laughed. “Getting awful crowded around here, don’t you think?”

  “Well,” Ryan said before he could bite his tongue, “if two, why not three? Why not a dozen dimensions?”

  Emma squeezed his thing and whispered, “Filter.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “No, you’ve got a point,” Orin said. “But I don’t think you native humans know the story of how Humania and Nocturnia came to be.”

  “Not a clue,” Ryan said.

  “Wellll, the two used to be one – one world – until about 75,000 years ago, back before there was any human civilization to speak of and lots of different types of humans. So-called hominids.”

  “What happened?”

  “That’s when Earth was struck by a huge asteroid made of pure occultium.”

  Ryan had never heard of it.

  “Is that true? Really? What’s occultium?”

  “It doesn’t exist in Humania. Only here in Nocturnia. The impact caused a dimensional fracture that created the parallel worlds. Your world suffered a ten-year winter that almost wiped out humans while our world wound up with many of the human variations and all the occultium.”

  “But that doesn’t tell me what it is,” Ryan said, trying to hide his frustration.

  “It’s the stuff that fuels the Veil that keeps our two worlds apart.”

  Orin paused, as if to let that sink in, and good thing, too. Because Ryan was having a hard time swallowing it all at once.

  “Okay,” he said finally. “Let me see if I have this straight: All this occultium is in Nocturnia, and if it wasn’t for occultium, there’d be just one world instead of two.”

  “Correct. Even Bluthkalt agreed with that.”