(Blessed are those who are blessed.)
‘I failed you, Halo.’
The images of last night are metalzips pinging inside my skull, reminders of the sin that nearly overcame me. I was saved by the Goddess in my moment of morbidity, my instant of wicked blasph. The past is a shooting star recurred; the blur never quite makes sense again yet the noise is always heard.
(Store your fears between your ears.)
Are you awake? There has been a change.
‘A change? Goddess?’
I put feet beneath me, reach arms long overhead to the ceiling. They press and I stretch. I belch and lick my chapped lips; my tongue grazes against the hairs than stick out like spines on a cactus. Stomach grumbles, signs of meat not quite digested.
The gates are open. The war is on.
‘The war? At the War Zone?’
Everywhere is the War Zone now.
‘The gates? Open?’
I run to the entrance of the cave. Early morning mog covers any visuals. Still, I hear a cry every now and then, the sound of metal striking flesh, death trumpet auditory blare.
I drop to my knees.
‘Goddess I wake in the body of the Stayed to begin anew a day anew. Grant me the clarity to choose right from wrong in the name of the Stayed, the Book and you. Place your hands on my shoulder and aim me away from the path of the deathborn. For the devout I shout, for the lost I weep, for the born I mourn.’
Smash rock fist, keep your thoughts together on the prayer.
(That’s better.)
‘What happened?’
A disruption. You must get to the North. Soon all will be lost.
--RETURN HOME, HUNTER!
Pace back and forth. Think it through or hit the settlement and rage? Rumors of the war to come have licked the ears of everyone. The War Zone is the training ground for said war, a place where warriors go to answer their wrath with a blood bath. Those who survive move closer to being raptured; those who die end up in pits of shame. The Vultured Few know what to do. The prayers and sentiments of either side are heard by Goddesses both true and false.
‘Where is the Goddess of the North?’
Why?
‘When I come to the North, I shall… I will… KILL HER IN YOUR NAME.’
Time isn’t what is at stake.
‘But she is a false Goddess… ’ I kick a rock imagining her face. It tumble rumbles until it hits a larger stone. All rolling stones collide.
You are coming to the North to rescue me. From there…
‘If I kill Time, the people of the Canyon will unite once the rest of the Blasph are dead. Southerners will move north, one Goddess – you, Halo, you – will unite them all!’
The Book says that the Canyon will one day wed, that the second War of the Untold will be between both sides of the Great Demarcator. The victor rules over the Stayed.
‘Please, Halo, Goddess mine, let me destroy false GoddessTime.’
Come to the North, Hunter, and we will see. I know that you normally travel at night, but the chaos of either side should give you the cover you need. If you see any metalzips, destroy them.
(What?)
‘They’re… they’re not to be touched.’
(Blasph blasph!)
The war is on now, Hunter. The rules of the Book no longer apply and I will… look the other way… from those who disobey them in my service.
‘What are they?’ I ask. The Canyon that lies before me is vast, the mog cloaks the war between the Devout and the Blasph. Their cries have risen, morning brings death on her breast.
Metal men, metalzips – we will soon discover what all these things are, but only if you make it to the North, Hunter. You must rescue me. The man that has taken me will take my purity soon. He has already tried once.
Inner ire bloat to frenzy. I’m dizzy with madness at the sound of these words. If he… IF HE LAYS A HAND ON YOU! IF HE!
‘Goddess,’ I say, grinding my teeth. ‘Hold him off until I get there. I will kill this man and after, I will kill Time. Your purity will remain intact; you will unite us all.’
That’s fine, my faithful Hunter, but get to me first. I may need your help with other things along the way.
.2.
Lizard tails wiggle and whip as I left foot right foot tumble stumble. The motocart an encumbrance; I’ve left it behind after riding to the outer rim of the Southern settlement. Man unleashed chaos increase and all it takes is one glance at the riot supreme to see that the war has begun, the strings have been strung.
All sides fight. North fights South, South fights South, North fights North, South fights North. Clubbing sticks and shivs beat and stab, a fury unchained across the slab of soil home of the Stayed where dreams are crushed and thoughts are flayed. I take my part in the bedlam as soon as opportunity presents itself. Mad and glad.
(FACELESS FUCKS RUN AND DUCK!)
‘Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes… ’
The faceless tracker life retractor moves smooth into a crowd turmoil loud in search of the taken, forsaken, stilted and jilted. Wilted souls with hearts of holes blend and blur as death spreads forth and screams and cries raise and rise. Disorder morning where eyes are gouged and shivs are stuck and the fucked are fucked and deathborn mourn.
‘There you are!’
Out of the gray I come down hard on a faceless fuck sinner of sinners. We roll and stumble but I quickly overpower. Scream it from the top of the Rapunzel Tower – I WILL NOT FAIL YOU, HALO!
(Watch that shiv!)
The man pulls away; with spittle flying from his faceless lips he tries to shiv me good. Comes close but I parry. Half-man half-beast, I bring the man to his knees with one solid, one ever-epic crack to the chin.
(Finish him.)
--What have you become? Father Miscavige once asked me.
--An animal.
--Good. Whose animal?
--Yours.
--The champion of the Stayed hungry for the flesh of the faceless.
--Tastes good, I said.
--I’m glad to see that you’ve acquired the taste. It will come in handy once the looming war between the North and the South breaks out. Fear is animalistic. You will show all who oppose you who is to be feared, what is to be feared, and why it is to be feared. Liberate your madness through violence.
--I understand, father.
With this in mind, I smash my opponent again and use his shiv to cut a sliver for breakfast. Another man approaches, catches sight of what I’m doing and runs off. I’d chase if it weren’t for the fact he had a face. No matter. A sliver here, blood red blood, the faceless man moans as I drive the blade into his shirt. Again and again, I shiv and I shiv until both of us are completely red. I ignore the smell of shit and the release from his dirties as I stab into his cheek, chewy meat.
‘It’s like red root!’
(It is!)
Chewy yum cheek and gums smacking tasty snacking. A metalzip flutters by and I remember what Halo said. I’m off the man and chasing zippy with my clubbing stick laughing wildly as the cries of the Stayed and laments of the soon-to-be deathborn echo all around. Uppers and Lowers alike – all are at each other’s throats as I follow the metalzip trying to get a clear strike.
‘Come here, zippy!’ I springboard off a parked motocart and manage to give the little guy a good whack. Electric fizzle; zippy falls to the ground writhes and wriggles. ‘Halo said I could touch you,’ I tell it as I crouch down.
(What… is this thing?)
‘I was thinking the same thing,’ I say as the little metal insect twitches in my fingers. The wings are made of a clear material unlike any I’ve ever seen, the body metal adorned with layers, red light like a widow’s mark on the place where its forehead should be. I lift it, examine.
‘What… are you?’
Keep it.
‘Goddess? What is this thing? What is the zippy?’
It is proof that none of this is as it seems.
‘Everything is as it see
ms, otherwise… otherwise it wouldn’t seem as if it were.’
(Logical disconnect.)
‘You keep your mouth shut!’
Zippy moves a little so I squeeze its head.
‘Halo says I have to keep you.’
A glassy black lens on its little face grows and shrinks.
‘Sorry, little guy, but those are the rules.’
(Is this thing living?)
‘What do you mean?’
(Is it alive?)
‘Are you alive, zippy?’ I examine the little guy a moment longer. ‘You can tell me.’
The sound of violence sandstorms my ears. The voice of female screaming severs the morning gloom and doom like the sharpest shiv in the Canyon. My reaction is immediate – I jam zippy in my pocket and tune my ears to the young girl’s scream, pinpointing her location.
Hunter!
‘Goddess?’
You must help her.
(Is she faceless?)
Small home approach darkness encroaches at the corners of the doomscape. I’m back against wall listening for more sounds and I hear them. I kick in the door to find three faceless fucks scrambling after a wild teenage girl who evades them with animal moves.
The faceless three turn to me.
‘Keep moving,’ one says, his face a blur like a stone hitting water.
‘You smell like a stink-lizard’s cunt up a dead rat’s ass,’ says the second, ‘worse than her!’
The third man laughs, coarse and hoarse. ‘This is our stinking whore. Move on, you fuckwit.’
I spit out the hunk of cheek I’ve been chewing. Clubbing stick in one hand, shiv in the other, I take a deep satisfying breath.
‘She smells fine to me.’
Liberation is a part of me that I will never quell. It feels so good to know that I’m doing what needs to be done to aid in the recovery of those to be deathborn. To know that I am part of the solution, that I am part of the goodness of the Canyon and I say it, I say the death prayer for the faceless in front of me.
‘Open heart and open mouth, soul take the path of the Devout,’ I whisper. ‘Deathborn, not I, vultured soon. Rebirth comes at the next full moon. Deathborn, not I, Goddess forgive, grievances from the times I lived. Deathborn, not I, sins escape, give me the guidance of the Devout, the Stayed.’
‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ the second man asks. He’s all beard tails and a boulder shoulder. His missing arm tells of War Zone scars or other dirty work. He makes up for his missing appendage by wielding the largest shiv I’ve ever seen.
(Do not let the faceless speak to you! They are poison!)
‘I’m not afraid.’ I point my clubbing stick at the three. ‘Who’s first?’
Liberation imminent, I don’t wait for an answer. I charge barge and dive left, missing the first strike from Beard tails. I toss a prefab chair for a bit of confusion, which connects with him, giving me just enough time to lunge and plunge.
(Clubbing stick to my upper back surprise attack!)
Ignore the pain, Hunter!
‘Yes, Goddess,’ I say as I pull myself to my feet. Left foot right foot juke out the first of the faceless, we’re death dancing, prancing like a pair of scorpions while Beard tails tries to find the perfect angle from which to attack.
(YOU’RE NEXT YOU FUCK!)
Duck and swing, attack his knees and let him spill over. The third man cometh and I comet move as I get in the groove of the melee. A single fist to my face gives me a taste of my own blood which is no different from the blood of the Stayed of the Devout and of the… faceless.
‘NO!’ My hands come to my face and I fall flat, feeling for, feeling for – yes, my face is intact! Foot reach face – my jaw feels out of place but no matter, anger swells and I kick my feet until someone falls. Lightning moves – I’m on top of this one, hands around neck. I lizard lift my knees and bring them onto his thighs and his dirty and that hurts I can tell!
Get a weapon! Behind you!
I twist off and my hand falls onto a clubbing stick. Not a moment too soon. The first man swipes his shiv and I give him the largest hit I can muster given my angle of attack from the ground up. It connects enough to stop his charge and I spring up, ready to devour overpower. Hours of punching walls and wrestling the Devout in the Hole makes itself known as I lay waste to the man’s former face. Hands and claws spin as the man tries one last attempt to stab me. I reverse the blade and press it in, watching for any change in his facelessness.
There is none.
One definitely dead or dying I turn to the third, who is crawling towards the door. I leap onto his back like he’s a motocart and beat against his head like it’s a door until I can beat no more. My arm muscles constrict, strain and burn but I’m on my feet looking to the last man half-alive – Beard tails.
‘Please… ’ he whispers, backing away from me. ‘Let me go. I have no quarrel with you.’
Hissy wispy won’t change the fact that his face is gone; I pick up the big shiv that he dropped.
His hand comes up to protect his none-face but that doesn’t stop me from sinking the shiv far enough into his stomach to tickle the inside of his spine. Another stab and I know he’ll be leaving soon. His arm falls to his side as he prepares to die. A little gurgle and the smell of shit, but I’ve been around long enough to know when one is done.
I drop to my knees, close my eyes, relax a bit as the ghosts leaves the room.
‘Who are you?’
I blink blink them open to find the teenage girl standing before me. She’s a dirt-covered Lower with mud smudges on her face and clothes hanging loosely over her body. What’s most important – she has a face, clearly has a face.
‘I am… Hunter. Champion of the Stayed.’
She clears her throat. ‘You saved me. You are my champion too.’
.3.
Pendulum back and forth. Teenage girl most buxomly and I can’t deny the terrible ache in my eggs that immediately spreads down my legs as I take in her off-white face, a mix of moon pale, beige, and smut-smudge.
--RETURN HOME, HUNTER!
(Say something you idiot!)
‘I’m not an… idiot,’ I mumble.
The teen gives me a nervous glance, crosses her arms over her chest.
‘Did they take… your purity?’ I ask, my throat suddenly dry.
Thin with wide hips, teen dream can’t be more than sixteen but while she may appear young, her demeanor is mean, chiseled Canyon clean.
She casts her gaze south, shakes her head. Her face is a series of scratches, mud dashes; her cheeks fill red as she says, ‘No, they didn’t… because… because of you.’
My eyes bounce from her left breast to her right and settle on her face. Triangle reconnaissance, I keep my focus above her neckline. She has the trademark dots of a Southerner under her eyes, but a few are smudged.
‘I owe you my life,’ she says, dropping her head.
‘You owe me nothing.’
I turn to the door but the girl appears in front of me. I give her a double take to make sure she hasn’t since turned faceless.
‘Where are you going?’ she asks as a half-smile forms on her face.
‘North.’
‘I will go wherever you go.’
‘Your family?’
‘Mother’s dead, father died at the War Zone not long ago.’
‘Brothers, sisters?’
‘None,’ she says. ‘I will go with you.’
‘No you won’t.’
(SMASH ROCK FIST – DON’T LOOK THERE!)
Bring her, she can fight.
‘You can fight?’
She drops down in front of one of the men on the floor, jabs her hand into his boot. She returns with a shiv and stabs him in the liver. Meat thud the sound of a body dud.
‘You can stab.’
‘I can fight too,’ she assures me. ‘I’m not afraid of anyone. I’m ready to die.’
‘No one alive is ready to die.’
�
�You are wrong.’ She wipes the man’s blade on his shirt and sticks it in her own boot.
‘You are right.’
‘You are strange.’
‘I am normal,’ I say.
Bring her, Hunter, she can help you.
‘Yes, Goddess,’ I say under my breath, ‘anything for you.’
‘Who are you talking to?’
‘To Halo.’
The girl bows her head again. ‘She was taken.’
‘And I will find her and return her to her rightful place.’
She takes a deep breath. Watching her chest swell with air makes me ashamed of the first thought to rat crawl between my ears. Over the years I’ve tried to deal with the feelings and thoughts that stem from the place of disgrace. In the Hole where the sinful go I did some things caressed some things. Dead body lover not quite a misnomer.
(You filthy, stupid, wretched, feckless, corpse-fucking lizard shit!)
‘Quiet you.’
‘Are you okay?’ teen dream asks.
‘I am… ’
(Never okay.)
‘…Fine.’
‘My name is Greene,’ she says.
What a color! What a blessing! A boon from the moon! Named after an earlier Goddess of the South. Before the altruistic, serene and beautiful Halo.
Thank you, Hunter.
‘You really are beautiful, Halo! Even with your blinders!’
Greene laughs. ‘You are the strangest man I think I’ve ever met. What’s your name?’
‘Hunter.’
.4.
‘You come with me, you die.’
‘I stay here, I die.’
Greene blows strands of dark hair off her face. The curl lifts and falls, reminiscent of the life of the Stayed. The Book says that life is a grain of sand whipping from one side of the Canyon to another. No matter how high the sand flies, something always brings it back down. Something always steps on it, uses it, tosses it away, ignores it, plays with it for a day, drenches it in shit and piss and pus and sin. To be a member of the Stayed is no better than being a grain of sand. ‘Everything has been chaos since the gate and the entry points opened. Northerners are trying to cross.’
The Zero Patient Trilogy (Book Two): (A Dystopian Science Fiction Series) Page 9
