When each name was called, in turn a small, frail, helpless soul would wander out into one of the many channels in between the parted seas of seated congregations. October had apparently yielded many births and the names stretched on and on until finally, they called out, "Tahir," and with more trepidation than Yusef could nearly stand, he watched as his little boy got up from the pew in his pressed white shirt and long black tie and ironed black slacks, and stepped hesitantly toward the altar.
***
"You might as well go ahead and consider this your last special assignment, Jonathan... Yeah. Okay. Just let me know as soon as it's done. All right. You too." Hank ended the call and tossed the cell phone in the passenger seat next to the unencrypted phone the Emperor was now undoubtedly tracking through its built in GPS signal. Traffic going north along the long overwater bridge was surprisingly light as Hank made his way out of New Orleans. The Emperor would no doubt lead Jonny right up on Hank's heels before a few days time had passed. But for now, Hank was worried. Trying hard to focus on the plan now in motion and wondering if it were too late to turn back or if there was another way. Grim gray clouds suffocated the last rays of dim sunlight trying to peek out over the horizon as the car rolled off of the bridge and onto more level road. Road that stretched on into the heart of that very horizon and would lead for hours on end into little more than decrepit rural landscapes dotted by the occasional dirt poor tiny town. A legacy long beyond the reach of Joseph Caesar's hold on the once United States.
As little excitement as there may have been along this journey, there would still be the knowledge of what was to come to keep Hank on edge at every blowing corn field. Every empty gravel road kicked up with dust from some fast-fleeing vehicle that could have been just some ordinary kids drag racing yet equally possibly some form of Imperial trouble waiting to come out and strike at any moment. At least he didn't have to worry about falling asleep at the wheel. There was too little time to be exhausted now. Even if he wanted to. Even if, in its current blood-nourished state, his body could possibly admit defeat. Hank tried to calm his nerves with the temporary delusion that it was just another roadtrip. One amongst hundreds he'd had no choice but to venture out upon since the day he rose from the dead, awakening to the cold hands of vampires upon his chest. From the moment he set foot in Necropolis his life had veered from one pinball corner to another. He wondered then, if he had died that night, would someone else have taken his place? Could someone else have? He laughed. What a world... What a goddamn world.
Chapter 22
Hell Hath No Fury
It had been like a dream to Simon. Like a soft pleasant dream that swiftly melted into a nightmare. One moment he was connected to his friend, his brother. Feeling his remorse, his longing, his struggle. The next, he was connected to... something else. And in the space of a human heartbeat that something else was controlling Ishan's body. Clumsily at first. But with each movement, it grew more confident, and therefore more adept. It had been days now. But still the feelings, the hatred, the desperation, the lack of Ishan's presence, were haunting Simon. Ever since his brother's reawakening, their unity had been like a relieving flood of comfort in the midst of his otherwise constant state of near panic at having been left to care for the Queen on his own and a growing worry for Jackie. But that moment of nothingness between them. That moment it were as if he had lost him all over again. And the depth of that loss didn't just refill so easily anymore.
Worse yet... Would it happen again? Or maybe a better question was when would it happen again? He couldn't have kept his fear to himself even if he’d wanted to, but its existence didn't disturb Ishan. In fact, his ancient brother welcomed it. The few barriers that remained between the two creatures were next to nothing and it only seemed to truly benefit them now. There was no need to be afraid to ask for help. Either one would help the other. And so they thought together on the problem at length. Hours first. Then days. And now here they were. Simon injecting Ishan with an incredibly pumped up version of the anesthetic they had given Jonny when they removed his implant. And somehow, it worked. And though the connection between the two vampires was weak as Ishan lay unconscious, it existed enough to quell the emptiness that filled up Simon's heart when the elder brother was absent.
And for that Simon could be nothing less than grateful. And though he still worried, still doubted that the problem could be solved so easily, he was at least comforted to know, to at least believe, that there would be some warning if that thing were to take control again.
Lying next to the Queen as She drank from the young female offering the ancients had brought her, Simon wondered if Jackie would ever be back. If she was safe. He hoped that she was. And that some day... she would come back. Soon. The Queen's eyes drifted up slowly and softly to meet his then, mouth still locked upon the young woman's neck, teeth still tearing into flesh. Blood still pooling in her mouth. But even though the gesture, certainly odd to any human being, seemed distracted at best, it was enough of a statement to Simon that she was there. That she cared beyond the depths of which any human or human vampire could truly understand. As she raised up to gasp for air, her hand gripped Simon's and held it tight. Be patient, child. My vision might not stretch out to her but that does not necessarily mean that she is lost. Hold still here, now, with me, while we still have time to be here together. A blur of motion, her tongue flicked then, wiping away the blood from her face so that one moment it was there and the next it was not. Then she lay her head against Simon's chest and, as the sun's invisible rays seeped in through the cave walls, warning them that true dawn had arrived, the two of them drifted off to sleep.
***
Frank sat in the car for a long time before he finally built up the strength of will to get out. He'd only seen a glimpse of what was inside, but it was more than enough. More than he thought he could bear. But the thought of what Jackie had found inside, and how much it would tear her apart brought back his sense of need. Stepping toward the small dilapidated house, a faint breeze blew through and the thick musk of death in the air nearly sent him roiling and gagging to the ground. The soft heart-wrenching sounds of her sobs kept Frank's feet moving one in front of the other. It took a great effort to climb over the concrete steps now mostly debris. And by the time he set foot upon what was left of the crumbled porch, Frank was already breaking a sweat. But inside... Inside was a sight Frank couldn't have prepared himself for. The whining moan in the back of his throat was involuntary. And no matter how hard he tried to focus, to make it stop, it just wouldn't cease.
Jackie lay balled up in the middle of the blood-soaked floor, cradling the head and torso of what looked to be a frail girl of about fifteen. Below the torso hung threads of flesh and oozing blood and entrails. An Imperial flag furled, its base hoisted from the broken ribcage of a man probably in his fifties. On the floor, among the bits and pieces of bodies, busted dishes, knick-knacks, and picture frames had been scattered. Frank fell backwards, his back smacking against the door jam and the world spun around as he found himself on his knees vomiting up every bit of food he had eaten on the road into a pit of crumbled rocky concrete just outside of the door.
There was nothing he could do here. Nothing he could do to help. Nothing he could do to comfort. Nothing he could do to save these people. And nothing she could do either. The realization—the sheer madness and futility of it all swept over Frank and he too was sobbing, saliva and vomit dripping down from his mouth. He spit the last bit away and wiped his face on the bottom of his shirt. But the sobbing continued and streams of tears came down in a flood. Unable to be contained. His heart cried out for Jackie and yet it also cried out for the little time he had left. For all the lives cut short. For his own life he had meant to do so much with cut short.
When he could breathe again, Frank flopped backward into a sitting position, his back resting against the wall. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, but when they did a cold fear gripped him.
Jackie was standi
ng in the middle of the room, eyes blazing, blood smearing her face, jaw tight with fury. And all around her, arms, legs, torsos, heads, and feet floated in a circle around her, blood dripping a dotted circle over a layer of dried blood on the floor around her. But that wasn't all that was floating. From the corner of Frank's eyes he saw movement and turned to see, just inches from his head, the very pile of concrete pieces he had just covered in his own sick rising steadily from the porch. He looked past the disaster that had once been a dining room bar as knives, silverware, broken bottles, and bits of debris also hovered on the air with gentle ease. Then the very walls and floor around him began to vibrate, and Frank took his cue to get the hell out of there. He stumbled to his feet and leaped past the floating chunks of concrete, headed for his car. The moment both his feet hit the grass, he glanced behind himself.
Jackie stood in the doorway.
The ground beneath the entire structure began to rumble. A deep bellow rose from the ground like some subsurface beast breaking through the soil. Then the house began to shake.
Fissures grew in the concrete that connected the building to the ground and spread in lightning forks. Bits of gray from as small as sand pebbles to nearly as large as a softball broke free and spit in all directions. Frank ran to the driver side of the car to take cover. A mist of concrete rained over the car for several seconds and then the loud crunching began.
Peeking his eyes over the hood of the car, Frank watched as the house slowly rose from the ground, Jackie still standing in the doorway, body parts still orbiting her stiff warrior stance.
Before the shit hit the fan, Frank hadn't even thought to be afraid for himself. He wasn't even sure he was truly afraid now. He hadn't known she had such power, and probably, neither had the Empire, but now... Now it was obvious they would find out. They would find out and they would regret this thing they had done.
Chapter 23
The Darkest Clouds
Jonny opened his eyes. The darkness of the room was barely a shade different from the nothing of unconsciousness. He lay still, waiting for some sense of vision to return to him. The distant tapping of water dripping nearly lulled him back to sleep but the thought of Julie kept him focused. And the memory of Hank's words and the hope they tried so hard to instill within him. He wanted so badly to believe. He wanted so badly for there to be a way out. For there to be a way to stop the Emperor and save his sister. The room was dimly aglow now. Lost in his thoughts, his eyes had done the work of adjusting to his surroundings. He rose to his feet and dusted off his clothes. For the first time in days he was hungry. Truly hungry. His appetite had dissipated terribly in the last few weeks since the Emperor derailed his existence into this new terrifying path.
A Foederati soldier stood stationed at the entrance of his quarters. For some reason, Jonny hadn't expected that. But it didn't take much time for it to dawn on him that there could be no stone left unturned to show any hint of alliance between himself and them. He decided it was time he had a decent meal. "Hey buddy, you guys just gonna let me starve or what?"
***
Every day was a struggle to get by but somehow, day in and day out, between the early hours of getting the boys up for school, walking them to the bus stop, watching the Imperial soldiers sneer at the three of them, cooking the food their neighbors had so generously donated, cleaning the house, and spending every spare second watching those bastards from the bedroom window and taking note after tedious note, Alexandria was beginning to step into a rhythm. The only stumbling blocks she foresaw were the growing need to find a job to support herself and her brothers and just how she would manage to keep the boys safe when she was ready to take action.
She needed something. Someone. To help. Someone to share the burden. Or at the very least someone to be willing to take on two small boys in the event she got herself maimed or worse, killed. She'd found her mind wandering night after night, thinking about the Foederati. Why there were no whispers or shadows of the rebellious faction within Shelby. She had lived here all her life and met many people, and she was sure she was not alone in her fury against the Empire. Hers wasn't even the only family who had been struck with such a devastating loss at the blood-soaked hands of the Imperial soldiers on this block. She could only imagine how many people had been tortured or murdered within the entire town.
Someone had to be out there. Ready to strike or... perhaps willing to try. She scribbled down the latest details from Imperial Fuckface # 3's latest watch and closed up her notebook and put it inside the dresser drawer beneath her father's underwear. At least there, she knew the boys wouldn't come across it. The last thing she needed was to get them involved in her planning. She couldn't bear the thought of those beautiful little faces, so much like her father's, yielding even a scratch.
For probably the thousandth time since that shotgun blast, tears raced their way toward her chin sending a chill up her spine and a shudder through her frame. She couldn't let the despair take over now. She had to be strong. She stiffened and wiped her face just in time for the sound of the bus pulling up to leak in through the open window. Somewhere somebody was waiting to drive these fuckers out of town. And it would take a lot of swallowed tears to find them. So she swallowed them now in a sort of metaphorical pact with herself. She would find them. She would do whatever it takes. Composed, she walked out to meet the boys at the bus stop, a smile on her face for the first time in weeks.
***
He was in her dreams again that day. The tall muscular blond one. The one who had taken everything from her. Rosadelma hadn't gone a single sleep cycle without reliving the exact moment he took away her last drop of blood and the light drifted out of her eyes into the very ether itself. His name was Harek. It hadn't resurfaced at first, but after seven days of dreaming about him, she finally remembered the name the other vampires had called him. In her sleep, her lips mouthed the word against her teeth.
Harek.
Her resolve to make them all pay had dwindled as of late. Even though she knew the chances of finding this one creature in all the world were slim at best, she wanted nothing more now but to find him. To find him and him alone. To make him pay for what he had done to her sweet Shanene. The dream changed now and she was clawing at his throat, ripping away his flesh, lunging for his left eye with her teeth. A large grin grew on her face as she turned over and savored Harek's death.
***
After wolfing down the jerky and fruit the soldier had brought him, Jonny sat watching the dimly lit cavern walls, analyzing every grain of dust, every pointed hanging stalactite, like jagged teeth trapping him within the mouth of an angry head buried beneath the earth. He had just started to drift back to sleep when the Emperor's voice spoke to him again. This time, its tone and tempo equally and deceptively gentle. "I judge you have slept well, Mr. Cross?" He paused for a long moment.
There was no way to return an answer with the guard standing firm, so Jonny merely looked in the man's direction to give answer.
"Yes, of course. I'm not at all surprised. They would know better than to leave you unguarded during the daylight hours with no vampire awake to stop you walking right out the front door." The words "front door" sounded alien from such a tongue. "No doubt, I have a way around that. For now though, do your best to keep comfortable. In a few hours you will request to see the man Hank and when he comes to you, I'll have further instructions." Fear struck Jonny then. How would he know when to call on the man? Was there an exact moment or was it arbitrary so long as he waited for the mid afternoon hours. There was a long silence and Jonny felt the urge to scream.
"Your heart rate is quite high, Mr. Cross. Calm down. This will all be over soon and your sweet little sister will be returned to you." The words stung even in that mock voice of pity. Jonny decided the time must not be all that important or Joseph would have made his instructions explicit. Another bout of silence surprisingly made Jonny wish the Emperor had more to say. If for nothing else but to keep his mind occupied. To
keep away the wandering thoughts that roamed inside his head, taunting him, dismantling his nerves little by little.
Jonny took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He would need to calm down if he was going to have any chance of getting through this. He focused back on those same stalactites and tried to replace his original image of teeth with one of dripping icicles from snowy days in the city with his family. A time so long ago and so very far away. He could still remember the look on Julie's face when he hit her in the head with one of the biggest snowballs he had ever seen in his life. How she had screamed at him with that tiny bulldog's war cry from delicate red lips struggling to spit out the cold flakes of white powder covering her mouth.
Jonny smiled. Some memories shine through even the darkest clouds.
Rising From Ashes: Empire of Blood Book Three (A Dystopian Vampire Novel) Page 13
