He wryly calculates the odds of that happening.
With a deep and heartfelt sigh, Sterling fights to stay focused; to get Halo and Beige inside the wall so that they can… can… he has no idea what Halo’s plan is after that.
‘I still can’t believe we’re doing this,’ Beige whispers.
Sterling stops short and viciously jerks her armcuff chain.
‘Ow! Hey!’
‘Beige, I’m going to uncuff you now and give you my shiv so you can stab me right in my fucking heart and save everybody time and effort!’ he hisses. ‘What don’t you understand about keep your fucking mouth closed?’ All the fatigue, all the fear, all the anger blasts through as he yanks her armcuffs up hard and bends her forward. ‘So go ahead and open your mouth one more Goddess-cursed time so you can kill us all. Go ahead – I dare you to!’
She whimpers and gasps and snuffles but says nothing.
Halo’s ensnared OL Officer leads them to the access door and places his palm flat against a circular plate inset into the wall.
‘Not yet.’ Sterling turns to Halo, narrows his eyes at the armcuffed Goddess and grits his teeth. ‘I’m not going in there until you uphold your side of the bargain.’
Bargain?
‘Cut the shit – where’s Zander?’
He will be here shortly.
‘Good. Then we stay out here until he arrives.’
HUNTER
.1.
I am coming for you, Halo.
Goddess of the Stayed, Devoutest of the Devout, shout out attack black night heart shift. Face lift kick rift through fists and death-forced shits. Clipped ears and poison-tipped spears clear Deathborn peers in the name of those to be taken.
(When will you quit?)
‘Never,’ I hiss to the voice that won’t quiver. I deliver left foot right foot in the cadence of compliance. ‘I will never quit, for you and… and… ’
(For whom?)
‘For Greene.’
The teenage killer girl asleep in the cellar was my brief partner in liberation, not as thirsty for repentance as I, but nonetheless staggeringly crushing.
(See yourself for what you are.)
‘I see me for what I’m trying to be, you fuck.’
--Hunter, where are you? You must return home!
Ignore that voice.
‘Goddess,’ I say as I creep-sneak behind an overturned motocart. Rat crawl dead stink all around peppered with shouts, guffaws from self-doubt. ‘I am coming for you.’
I know, brother, I know. You must hurry. Move through the line of OL Officers ahead and maneuver through the War Zone to the other side. I will give you instructions from there.
The sound of war percusses my ears. Screeches and cries spell trumpeted lies, the songs of death rouse the night like blight. Feet in a field of dust I yield, await my chance to shave the crust of life to be taken and distributed. I say the Death Prayer, as one does before entering the War Zone. I have no idea of the distance, but I know the upcoming dash-clash-smash may in fact extinguish my ability to breathe freely.
(Are you sure you’re ready?)
With a weapon one becomes a weapon. The big shiv that I picked off Beard tails will do me well; my clubbing stick will provide backup if all else fails. Beat and stick, blood will run slick like the tears of the faithful at the First Blessing. ‘Halo, be my halo.’
I will, Hunter.
‘Forgive me for the destruction I will soon cause.’
I will, Hunter.
‘And the deaths I will own.’
I will, Hunter.
‘And those I will liberate.’
Liberate, Hunter!
Metalzips fly by piercing anything they touch. I dip through them like I’m dodging raindrops, my eyes closed, trance-guided stagger patter. A line of OL Officers clashes with a line of Southerners trying to break through their barrier. Dust, debris and blood dapple the mog; I creep like a sun-scorched scorpion until I see my opening into the War Zone melee.
A man huddled, beaten by a pair of officers provides the springboard I need to leap-fly over the killing line. I take my steps for the Goddess, I take my steps without distress, without fear, with the true intention of pious intervention sans exsanguination. Foot meets back, spine stair step. In the air I sail over the line and through a hail of zinging metalzips.
I arrive on the other side of time, duck, tuck and roll. Stand to continue my mad dash when the itch hits. I turn to the line. All of the OL Officers are slow-motion turning towards me, as if their bodies are filled with frozen mush.
Do you see now, Hunter?
‘What have you done with time, Goddess? How did you slow time?’
I have done nothing; you have done this, you, Hunter.
(THEY ARE FACELESS!)
‘Goddess, I… I must liberate them for you.’
I need you now, Hunter.
(THEY ARE FACELESS!)
‘Halo, please… they must be freed!’
Yes… I understand, Hunter. Do what you must, then. Free them.
Impulse-driven killer instinct. With time frozen, I make my way down the line shivving the back or side body of every OL Officer deprived of their face. As I stab, images flash-bang of Father Miscavige’s punishments. The things he stuck in me, the bound wrists, spitting in my face as he forced me to taste, torture carving forced starving. Rage surge, I keep my pace until every OL has an extra hole or three from which to bleed.
Time returns to its normal pace and all the officers fall; the crowd of Southerners glance left and right, cheer and begin their charge.
(They’re coming for you!)
Trampled I am before I can duck or stand my ground. Knocked down, I scramble to cover my face as they barge charge. Dust and kicks and rocks and sweat and blood and tears create a pong as the men and women move over me.
As soon as they pass I hear the new aftermath. The crank of a machine drills in the distance and the people fall in rows as one. A big metalzip tosser. Eyes up left, I sense the location of the weapon – a killer of crowds, loud and proud.
‘Goddess, protect me,’ I whisper as I pull myself to my feet.
I will, my brother.
‘Slow down time again.’
I didn’t slow down time, you did. You can do that, if you focus.
(Blasph!)
You are strong, Hunter, you have abilities you’ve never tried to use.
The big metalzip tosser continues to tear people down all around me. Eyes clenched, teeth bare, I try to slow time.
‘Slow, slow, slow.’
(Fast, fast, fast.)
‘Dammit you!’
Smash rock fist doesn’t do any good. I hit myself again and again but the voice in my head only laughs. My only option is the option I’ve turned to countless times. Shiv or be shivved – the Canyon does to safety what a rat does to a legless lizard.
.2.
Smash rock fist repeat to get myself psyched. A charge through the squall leaves one vulnerable to all. My brutal merge through the crowd of dead-dying and pants-shitting may be the death of me if Halo doesn’t intervene.
(You are going to die.)
‘You can fuck off, little bitch lizard voice!’ A quick breath and I speak to the One Who Can Hear. ‘Watch over me, Halo, guide me through the violence, Goddess.’
I will, Hunter, I will.
My feet light ignite and I increase my pace. Time doesn’t budge as I slam into the crowd as it’s pummeled down. Momentum driven muscle spasm, I duck my head and use a man’s body as a shield. I continue my plow, using bodies as protection. Some have the right idea and follow my example. The big metalzip tosser does its damage yet loads of deranged depraved denizens pass through, some injured and others as good as brand new.
‘Go! Go! Go!’ a man with red root stained beard tails shouts.
A metalzip hits him in the throat, silencing his encouragements. Still, more join us until we are a force. It seems as if the entire citizenry of the South has been waiting for s
omeone to break the line of OL Officers that prevented them from heading north. I am that catalyst. I’m the trouble starter, punking instigator; I’m the fear addicted, danger illustrated; I’m the firestarter, twisted firestarter; I’m the battle-rich Champion of the Stayed leading the charge into the fray.
We pass between an opening in the War Zone’s stands, right onto the field where we are greeted by a mixture of OL Officers and Northerners. Everyone is everyone’s enemy here; my eye catches an OL beating a Southerner to death only to be jab-stabbed in the back by a Northerner on attack, who is then accosted by the same Southerner he’s just saved. Screams and pant leg piss streams are evidence of life extreme.
All-out war for the Stayed.
I dip my blade into a FACELESS FUCK who comes at me with spit trailing out of his mouth. Gaping wound, I feel my stomach twist with hunger. No chance to act as I’m tackled to the ground. The man scrambles on top of me; his hands around my throat and he musters a squeeze. My shiv in his side and he bleeds.
(Take a bite.)
Hunter, hurry!
I flip the man over and club him until his face is a bloody pulp. Rage abated, I stand only to be hit backside by something larger than a fist. Nose dive, I taste a mixture of dirt and blood. I roll to avoid being struck by a huge hunk of prefab. The man tosses it aside and leaps on top, his hands on my wrists, he drops his head on my nose and more blood flows onto my lips.
(KILL HIM, HUNTER!)
‘Trying… to… ’
The enraged man pries my clubbing stick from my hand and sinks a fist in my face. I latch onto his collar as soon as he lets go of my wrist and swivel on top of him. He punches my thigh and my pocket vibrates.
‘Zippy?’ I ask, remembering the metalzip I clubbed earlier.
The metalzip tears out of my pocket and directly into the man’s abdomen.
‘Go Zippy!’
‘Shit!’ he screams, his hand instinctively going to his stomach. Zippy zigzags for a moment inside the man’s body and tears out of his abdomen, glistening in blood and guts.
Hurry!
I finish what Zippy started, carving out the man’s intestines. I’d strangle him with them if there were more time. Nope, I’m up on my feet, licking my own blood off my lips as I stumble-veer over the fallen and those to be killed. I see the Northern stands and know refuge awaits those who make it.
(Why don’t you manipulate time again you little bitch?)
Ignore that voice!
Smash rock fist, I give the voice a good noggin. The only thing that would stop me from hitting the other side of the War Zone would be confronting that voice in person, able to beat the breath out of it for the years of torment it has caused me.
‘GET OUT OF MY HEAD!’
I see a girl that looks like Greene get her face caved in and my heart stops thumping. A behemoth of a man, one raised to be a warrior, lifts his foot and stomps again, flattening her dull skull.
It’s not her, Hunter!
‘It looks like… It must be… ’
(GET HIM HE IS FACELESS!)
Don’t get distracted, Hunter. I am waiting for you to save me!
Greene or Halo. Greene or Halo. Greene or Halo. Mind reel criminal intent blasph kill. Deathborn not I, vultured soon. Left foot right foot move discreet. Scream inside my head until the Faceless are dead, sinners picked clean by combat winners. Down in the Hole where the guilty go and the sun don’t shine and rhymes don’t rhyme. The Book says what the Book says…
I stop in my tracks, ready for anything.
‘YOU!’ I point my shiv at the stomper man monster. He hears my cry above the melee, turns and snarls.
Hunter, it isn’t Greene! It’s a different girl!
‘I can see that, Halo, Goddess… ’ I whisper-grin. ‘But he is faceless, and I will liberate him.’
The blurred-face bastard takes a giant’s step. The earth doesn’t rattle, but those around him scatter. Smile, no matter. I bring my shiv to the top of my cheek and cut a diagonal line to my chin. The pain is euphoric, the sting rewarding. The blade comes to the other side of my face and I cut a similar line.
What are you doing?
The great big warrior stops, raises an eyebrow. He’s at least two heads taller than I, a Northern champion by the looks of it. The blurred state of his visage tells me he’s lost, he’s succumbed to iniquity. Not I – the fresh cuts on my face should prevent his facelessness from spreading.
Facelessness doesn’t work that way, brother! Leave the man be and come to me!
(Blasph! Ignore that voice… ignore it!)
Ignore that voice!
--Hunter, return to me!
‘I will… ’ I swallow gulp. My senses return amidst the dust of battles being had and death on delivery as all sides kill, maim, vomit and shriek as they death dance. Piss-vulgar existences lift into the grips of a great wind twisting fervor and terror into the despair of the air. ‘I will do anything for you, Halo.’
I won’t let Greene die. I promise you, Hunter.
I snort, turn away from the man.
Good, brother, good. Come to me.
.3.
Cleared the cluttered clearing, I left foot right foot whip dip trip. More OL Officers ahead, but with my back to the shadows, I slip by in the blink of an eye. They oppose a handful of Northerners who wield construction tools; the OLs and the metalzips pay no heed to creeping me, a sign that my luck has turned. Hunter the face punter, bone gnawer, Halo follower, Champion of the Stayed, in the North to liberate.
The people of the Canyon must come out of the darkness if they ever hope to see the light – a quote from the Book that I’ve always liked. Regardless, keeping low pro is the way to go when war between the North, the South and the OL has broken out. Listen to the Goddess – the only way to forego the path of the Deathborn.
Are you ready to let me guide you again?
‘Anything, Goddess.’
Close your eyes and follow the red light.
(Careful!)
‘Quiet, you.’
Shut eye pink black. Silent attack life on edge, I’m apparition-moving discrete. Death door knocking rendering lives obsolete. A feat of feet, my eyes are zipped shut. The thoughts come and I open my mouth to let them out.
‘How did I… freeze time for those OL Officers back there?’ My thoughts recall the line of frozen guards at the Southern gate and how easy it was to shiv them down. Why couldn’t I do it again?
You and I are similar, Hunter.
(BLASPH! YOU ARE NOTHING LIKE THE GODDESS.)
--You stupid fucking animal. You are the shit of shit, filth regurgitated.
‘Father Miscavige?’ I stop, keeping my lids shut.
Ignore that voice, Hunter. Ignore all voices aside from mine.
‘I couldn’t… I can’t possibly be anything like you, Halo, Goddess of the Stayed.’ I bow my head as I humble mumble.
You slowed those people with your mind. You made them obey you. Time was running at its normal course. It was all through your mental power. It only seemed as if time slowed down.
‘I think, things happen?’
It is possible, but your mind is cluttered with…
--YOU FILTHY FUCK!
(Blasph, blasph, blasph, blasph.)
… other voices. I don’t know if you’ll be able to do it again, but if you concentrate, you might. It won’t work on metal men, but the Stayed are easily swayed.
‘What are the metal men?’ I ask as I keep my eyes trained on the red light zipping across my lids. It moves up and I follow, it zigzags left and I pivot step.
That remains to be seen. There are bigger things in play, but what’s important now is for you to save me.
‘Anything, Halo.’
I need you to rescue me, but before you do, I want you to capture someone.
‘Why?’
(BLASPH! Never question the Goddess!)
I am safe enough, for now. The man I want you to capture wants to kill Greene.
; ‘Greene?’
Just a speck of dust in my stained life, the teenage girl that fought alongside me is the only one who doesn’t stare, turn away, retch and wrinkle her nose; who feels for my troubled existence, who too has lived a life damned and ground into the Canyon’s topsoil.
Yes, Greene. I know you’ve come here to protect me, but I promised you that I’d protect her, and to do so, you need to capture a man named Zander Damien.
‘And I will kill him? I will squeeze his neck until his faceless face bursts like an abscess. I will carve your initials in his chest and piss onto the open wound. I will… I WILL devour his flesh, grind his muscles between my teeth, pull his lizard organs from his body and stomp them out. I will… ’
You will bring him to me so that he may receive justice and retribution. You must keep Zander alive until then.
‘Anything for you, Goddess.’
I know that you will not fail me, Hunter, you are my champion.
‘Thank you, Goddess, thank you for believing in me.’
.4.
Open your eyes, Hunter.
Night creep mog cover. Over the bodies and through the streets to Zander’s house I go. Halo’s red light pointer long gone, I see my target loud and clear; a collection of circular dwellings that rival the size of the Church of the North are cordoned off from the road by a high-tall fence. My senses at eleven, I know I’m outnumbered and I know my blood-thirst to fulfill Halo’s wishes can only take me so far. Mere mortals have never proven difficult for me to throttle. Two at a time I can take, three makes high stakes.
Lure the two guards out of his home first, I will help.
‘How?’ I grunt. Crouched low like a lizard in a hole watching a predatory rodent scurry about, I’m pins and needles breath-holding while I await my chance to terminate. The two sentries I see are facelessly facing me, but my shadow clothing keeps me hidden and foe-unridden.
Just watch, I’ll tell you when to go.
With my big-ass shiv behind my back to avoid reflection, I’m beyond detection, patiently waiting for my chance to glad jab stab. Mad as fuck doesn’t begin to describe my disposition as I watch the faceless fucks await their demise. Time flits by, one turns and the urge to move surges smooth.
The Zero Patient Trilogy (Book Two): (A Dystopian Science Fiction Series) Page 14
