Poseidon’s Children

by Michael West

  Earl surveyed the inside of the trunk; his eyes and hands quickly found an M-16. It felt comforting, reminding him of the controlled environment of the base’s firing range. What he wouldn’t give to be there now.

  Earl surveyed his battleground, thinking of his father.

  Is this what it was like at the end, Dad?

  Earl shook it off; he needed his wits about him, and he hoped this little battle would have a much happier outcome than his father’s.

  Horror Show stepped away from the trunk and laid down an uninterrupted field of gunfire, destroying everything non-human, moving or otherwise. Advancing creatures exploded into gore. Car windows shattered. Alarms died. Jets of steam and flame erupted into the air to both illuminate and obscure their view of the horde. The deck now resembled a traffic jam in Pandemonium; the air filled with screams, wails, and the smell of death and burning.

  Earl shivered.

  Is this how it was, Dad?

  An iridescent green mass leapt from the roof of a nearby Durango, stood between Preston and Hays; its face and body were trimmed in spiny frills and squirming tentacles. The creature’s skin expanded in patches, as if it were inflating a multitude of balloons or bladders to appear more muscular.

  Earl’s pulled his trigger; bullets raked the air, filling the beast with hot shells. It screeched, instinctively releasing its dark chemicals in a burning rain.

  Earl was out of range.

  Roger Hays wasn’t.

  The caustic spray caught the man square in the face, ate away his cheeks, nose, and forehead. Hays covered his dissolving features with his hands and smoke poured through the cracks between his fingers; he fell screaming over the shuttle’s railing, disappeared into the churning wake.

  The squid-thing also fell, its swollen body deflating as it died.

  Earl turned away and saw that strange eyes surrounded him.

  FIFTY THREE

  Burning embers fell like the Devil’s rain.

  Neil staggered to his feet, his eyes drinking in the view that was once Colonial Bay — a vast inferno of his making, the summit of his accomplishments. His quivering lips curled into a proud smile, and joyous tears cleared tracks in the grime on his cheeks. It was the most incredible sight he’d ever seen.

  Several of the creatures lay dead at his feet, impaled by flying debris. A pane of flying glass had decapitated one nasty-looking animal; its head was now an island in a sea of its own blood, its tongue dangling out between long, needle-like teeth. The others slowly rose to their feet, cut and bruised, but still living.

  Their leader looked at Neil, its eyes burning with reflected firelight. “What have you done?”

  Neil stiffened; he puffed out his chest in a display of pride. “I’ve sent you demons back to hell!”

  The creature raised its gold-jacketed hand; the orb glowed brightly, became a small sun at the end of its arm. “You’re the only demon here!”

  Neil Shiva knew he was dead; he felt the explosion ignite within him, as if his veins were filled with kerosene and he’d just swallowed a lit match. He closed his eyes as every hydrogen molecule in his body released its energy in one intense burst.

  I am fire!

  And then his mind burned.

  Neil exploded, an intense ball of flame that faded as quickly as it appeared, leaving a scorch mark on the asphalt and the stench of ozone in the air.

  •••

  Karl lowered the creators’ weapon; he moved to the blackened residue, scratched at it with his clawed foot.

  Every human I see will become a skid mark.

  He smiled, liking the way that sounded.

  “Tellstrom!”

  At the call of his name, Karl’s head jerked up. Through a wavy veil of heat, he saw a stranger walk from the flames, a man, a Lander. The fool strutted toward Karl as if to declare a challenge.

  FIFTY FOUR

  Every eye in the crowd fixed on Carol, and, for an instant, she felt as if she might fold beneath the weight of their stares. In their faces, she saw quiet restraint, but those eyes betrayed sanguine dreams of ripping and tearing at her flesh.

  Her suit had been designed to block tooth penetration and spread bite pressure across her entire body. It would be strong enough to protect her from some of these beasts, but others might have powerful, crushing jaws that would shatter her bones even through the chainmail. The shark-pod was dry-docked. The spear gun would not defend her long. Her book of magic tricks had reached its final page, and she had no time to scribe another.

  Barbara glanced at the altar. A glowing she-creature sat with her tail wrapped around her legs; she was not a member of this mob, in fact, she looked quite relieved to see them.

  Peggy?

  Not that she could do anything to help them. They were hopelessly outnumbered, their lives now firmly in Barbara’s shaking hands.

  The old woman locked eyes with her daughter. “This is over, Chrissy.”

  “No, mother,” Christine countered, a coy bloodthirst dancing in her raven eyes. “The fun’s just getting started.”

  “Slaughtering innocent people is your idea o’ fun? I raised you better than that. ’Least, I thought I did.”

  “I don’t need to justify any of this to you.” Christine shifted her gaze to Carol. “Who’s your puppy?”

  Miyagi cocked her head, but said nothing; she merely continued to watch Christine’s translucent face.

  “This is my friend.” Surprised objections erupted from the crowd, but Barbara continued to speak and the noise from the audience slowly yielded to her words. “We’re all the creators’ children. The Callisto’s proof o’ this.”

  Christine shook her head. “The Callisto’s an abomination! We’re the gods’ chosen people. The humans don’t even believe in the creators anymore. They’ve denied them, forgotten them.” She glared down at Miyagi. “Haven’t you?”

  “Your gods were pirates,” Carol replied. Barbara started to protest, but Miyagi cut her off with a glance. “They abandoned you because you weren’t profitable for them anymore. This...this thing,” she indicated the sculpture of Varuna, “left you and moved on to bigger and better treasures.”

  “You blasphemous bitch!” Christine spat.

  Barbara stepped in. “The fact that a Callisto can happen at all proves that we all spring from the same flesh and blood.”

  “Have you ever tasted human flesh, Mother?”

  Barbara looked away.

  “It’s sweeter than lobster.” The tone her daughter was using, it was breathy, seductive. “And the blood...the blood is so hot.”

  Carol watched as the old woman closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. Was that sweat beading on her forehead, or was she still wet from their swim? When Carol saw Barbara’s hands curl into fists, however, she knew.

  Poseidon’s children must have sensed her swelling fear. They began to whisper. Some even applauded. Instinctively, Carol’s hand went to the butt of her spear pistol, gripped it tightly as she searched the grotto for any possible escape route.

  A webbed hand reached out to blanket her white knuckles, Barbara’s hand — soft, cool, and comforting. The old woman gave a reassuring squeeze and Miyagi reluctantly released her grip on the weapon.

  Barbara’s head snapped up. “Fighting humans, killing humans, is as wrong as killing another clan. Can’t you see that, Chrissy?”

  “Humans have murdered us for centuries!”

  “And what will spilling more human blood do for us now?”

  “‘If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge,’” Christine told her mother, her tone as dark and cold as the ocean depths. “‘If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?’”

  Barbara shook her head. “You’re missing the point o’ that particular play, child. When he gets a chance to take his pound of flesh, Shylock refuses.”

  Christine scowled. “We don’t have any choice in this.”

  “No, Chriss
y, you’ve got —” Barbara took a few steps toward her daughter, then came to an abrupt halt. Her nostrils flared, sampling the damp air. There was a look of utter surprise on her gleaming face. Carol watched as the old woman’s eyes fell to Christine’s abdomen and remained there. “You’re...”

  Christine’s hand rushed up to cover her navel; she appeared to blush, as if embarrassed or ashamed, but it was only for an instant. Beneath her skin, glowing ribbons flared and the girl struck a defiant pose. Her tail stiffened and her black eyes narrowed to slits. “You came here to scold your little girl, didn’t you? Well, I’m not your little girl anymore, Mother. I’m a woman now, a woman with her own life and her own ideas. I decide what’s right for me, for my family...not you or any of the elders...I decide.”

  Barbara nodded, then blinked. “We all have to make our own choices in this life,” she said at last. “We try to do what we think is right, what’s best for everyone. But sometimes...sometimes we’re too weak to do what’s right. We do what everyone else thinks is right, or what’s always been done before. We don’t stop and think what our decisions might do to others...to the ones we love.”

  As she spoke, Barbara’s hand moved to the small of her back, to the trident tattooed just above the stalk of her own tail.

  “Fighting a war we can’t win’s not the right decision. And it’s not the decision a grown woman, a mother would make. Do you love this child?”

  “Of course I do.”

  Barbara’s eyes rose to meet her daughter’s cold glare. “One day, he or she is gonna look at you the way you’re looking at me right now.”

  “My daughter will look at me, will look at her father, and know that we did everything to make certain she would never be ashamed of who she was.” Then, the boldness drained from Christine’s stance and the defiance washed from her face; after too long a silence, she said, “You want us to keep pretending to be something we’re not. I can’t live like that anymore, and I won’t damn my child to that prison either.”

  Barbara looked at her daughter’s belly, at her grandchild within. “Colonial Bay was created to keep us safe, to keep the hunters away and allow us to live peacefully...in secret. Thanks to Karl, that peace is gone. For the first time in centuries, humans have come to our shores not to walk through our shops, or to stay at our inns, but to hunt us, to kill us again.”

  Christine thought for a moment, then shook her head abruptly. “Just because we’re different from the Landers doesn’t give them the right to —”

  Carol broke in, “My father’s entire family died in a Japanese internment camp during World War II.”

  She mounted the stairs. The Charodon to her right snarled, stepped in like a guard dog perceiving a threat to its master.

  Christine gestured for him to stand down.

  He did so without hesitation.

  Miyagi continued, “They died for no other reason than the fact that they were different. They were Americans, had been since they were born, but that’s not what people saw. They saw...they saw the enemy.”

  “Why?”

  Barbara answered, “Pearl Harbor, Chrissy.”

  Carol flinched at the words. Her voice began to tremble, but not from fear. She hoped they did not mistake it for fear. “My father...he...he could never get close to anyone again after that camp. He may have survived it, but his spirit died there.”

  “I’m sorry,” Barbara said.

  Miyagi nodded but did not take her eyes off Christine. “Karl might be ready to die, you might be ready to die, but are you ready to kill your child? Are you ready to deprive it of its dignity?”

  “I was in Black Harbor, Chrissy,” Barbara told her. “If someone walked into my house and pointed a gun at you, I’d rip their throat out, I don’t care how righteous their cause. Karl sent The Enforcers to slaughter people who didn’t even know we existed, people who’d probably find us fascinating. Varuna only knows why he wants The Wrath. Do you really think they’ll just go away and let us be after this?”

  For a moment, they stared at one another, then Christine turned away; she looked at the floor, at Varuna’s face high above her, and then her eyes finally locked with Miyagi’s. With all the defiance left in her, she said, “Your family should’ve fought back. They shouldn’t have let the other humans lock them away. If they had they’d —”

  “Have you done the math?” Carol asked. “Have you really thought this rebellion through? Three thugs managed to destroy the town church and everyone Karl sent there. Imagine what will happen when what’s left of your little army goes up against the millions on the mainland. No matter how hard you fight, or how just your passions, it’s a battle you won’t win.”

  An uneasy quiet descended on the temple.

  After a moment, Peggy found her voice, “She’s right, Christine.”

  “I don’t need your opinion.”

  “I thought you said you had your own ideas?” Peggy stood and her paddle-like tail uncoiled. “Sounds like you only have his.”

  Christine’s eyes bore into Peggy and a low growl rose from her throat; she took a step forward and drew back her talon, her claws clicking. “Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you right now?”

  “Go ahead,” Peggy dared. “Do something else that he wants you to do. Kill me and then go kill all the Landers until none are left alive. Do it and prove your mother right. Human and Poseidon, we are the same.”

  Christine closed her claw and lowered it to her own abdomen, caressing her belly and the life that grew within, then her eyes found Barbara once more. “You want us to run.”

  Carol could see questions churn in the shadowy mass behind Christine’s eyes.

  “We shouldn’t have to run away and hide. Not again. Even if we did, how long before their civilization grows to a point where there’s nowhere left to run?”

  Barbara shrugged. “Hon, Colonial Bay’s not home anymore. After today...it can’t be.”

  Christine’s face fell; she looked up and said, “Karl will never leave Colonial Bay.”

  The Charodon to her right moved closer, placed a reassuring hand on Christine’s arm. “If he loved you, he’d go wherever you go.”

  Christine turned to him, her voice and face cracking beneath the strain. “Jason...” She looked as if she needed him, and he looked as if he’d never seen that before. “Does he?”

  Jason put his hands on her shoulders. “Chrissy, he loves your tattoo.”

  Christine’s shoulders quaked, and her tail went limp; she rested her head on Jason’s wide, scaly chest and wept.

  Barbara rushed them; she took her daughter’s webbed claw in her own and smiled. Christine left Jason’s side, threw her elongated arms around her mother, and nearly knocked the old woman down.

  “We’ll make things right,” Barbara assured her. “We’ll end this.”

  “No.” Christine shook her head, tears of hopelessness still streaming down her transparent cheeks. “Karl already has The Wrath.”

  Barbara’s eyes widened, her mind showing her what a lunatic might do with such power. “Varuna help us. How long ago did he leave?”

  “Long enough.” Christine looked down at her webbed toes. “If I hadn’t helped him —”

  Barbara gently stroked Christine’s dorsal fringe. “I pushed you to him with that damned ceremony.”

  “It wasn’t just that.”

  “I know. Pardon me for saying this, but you need to get past it. Right now, there’s something I need you to do for me, for all of us.”

  Christine wiped away the last of her tears. “Name it.”

  Barbara held Christine’s chin, lifted it up. “The mark and your blood give you power, but respect...that has to be earned. And you can start right now.” She looked out at the crowd. “I think they’re waitin’ for some direction.”

  “But, mother...aren’t you — ?”

  The old woman shook her head.

  Christine trembled. “But...I can’t —”

  “You’ve al
ways been able to handle me. Yes, you can.”

  With more than a little apprehension, Christine stepped away from her mother; every eye in the chamber focused on her with anticipation as she spoke, “Children of Poseidon, I...I’m sorry. We can’t...we won’t leave any more wives without husbands, children without parents.” She didn’t have Karl’s gift for speechmaking, but they were listening. “There can’t be a war.”

  The masses roared with conflicting responses.

  Jason moved once more to Christine’s side; he took her talon in his own and his mouth formed an odd, non-threatening grin.

  Christine squeezed his hand, drew strength from it; she hardened and tried to give her words authority. “Shut up and listen to me!”

  Her audience slowly fell silent.

  Christine waited thirty more seconds before speaking; she looked into as many faces as she could in that time, and she didn’t blink. “We’re leaving Colonial Bay.”

  “No!” a distant voice roared back at her.

  “We’re not cowards!” another snarled.

  Christine shouted at the crowd, “Does anyone else have the mark of Poseidon on their back? Raise your goddamn hand now and you can take over!”

  Her anger silenced them.

  “Shut the hell up and listen to what I have to say!” Fresh tears formed in Christine’s eyes. “This is my home. I wanted to follow Karl as badly as you did, but he’s so full of hate that he can’t see things. These women are right. Right now, because of what he’s done, what he’s doing...the only way to actually be free, to be who and what we are, is to leave Colonial Bay.”

  A murmur ran through the audience, but no one yelled out their dissent.

  “Okay. Spread the word,” Christine ordered. “We’ll meet on the reef. Take what you can carry.”

  “Where will we go?” The voice came from a beautiful, golden creature in the front row.

  Christine thought for a moment, then simply stated, “I’ll find a place where the Landers never go.” She ran her gaze across their shocked faces; they stood frozen before her, as if waiting for an order to move. She gave it, “Go on.”