by Jason Keizer
2 years ago:
A dim light dangles from a cable, bringing in a little bit of light into an otherwise dark room. Blood and dirt stained tiles line the slightly sloping floor, allowing water to flow to the drain in the center. At the far end, there is a hose that is dripping from the end wrapped around a chair.
To the left, cages are stacked 2 high and 4 across. To the right, five taller cages stand. There are four people in the cages on the left and five fill up the right. On the left side, a young girl cries to herself as she holds the hand of a young boy who sits in the cage next to hers. The men in the others are all talking, some yelling, and some whispering, except for one. James sits in the last cage on the right, legs crossed and eyes closed.
At the top of the stairs, the door swings open, bringing in the bright light of the sun, and silence throughout the room. Three men come walking down, two in old swat gear, and the other in a nicely tailored suit. They slowly walk past the first few cages and stop in front of James'.
The two guards look at the man in the suit, the Fatman, who nods his head, telling them to open the cage. As the door opens, James just sits there, eyes still closed and silent. The whole room sits silently except for the gurgling of the Fatman’s breathing.
“Get up,” the Fatman says, but James sits still.
The two men look back to the Fatman once again, who puts out his right hand and moves two of his fingers up and down. The guards grab James by the arms and lift him up. James opens his eyes as they lift him. In front of him, he sees a darkened outline of the Fatman. The swinging light comes by just far enough to show the small frostbitten patch on the Fatman’s head.
“Time to see what you are really made of,” he says to James. The Fatman turns around and heads out of the room. The two men hold and usher James behind the Fatman.
When they get outside, a crowd erupts into cheers. The Fatman walks over to the right and disappears into the crowd. The two men holding James let go of his arms, push him to the ground, then make their way over to their leader.
James gets up and looks around. Hundreds of people encircle him, some on the ground, and some in stands, in what looks like an old high school football field. He looks around and sees the Fatman sitting in a raised chair on the right side. As James looks around some more, trying to figure out what he is doing there, in front of him the crowd starts to part.
Two more guards escort another man into the center of the circle, the ring. They push him to the ground and disappear into the crowd. As the man gets up, James sees the mark on him. A black hand stretches across his neck. A pointed thumb reaches out up to the back of his right ear. The other four fingers reach all the way to the other one.
The man has a short mohawk and a goatee. His pants are cut off at the knees, and he has no shirt. A long scar runs from his left breast to just under his navel. Compared to James and the others in the cages, this man is squeaky clean. The man stares at James and then looks around at the crowd. He puts his right thumb up to his neck and slowly brings it across.
The crowd starts a chant, “Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.”
James looks at the crowd, confused as to what they are saying. Just as he figures it out, the man runs forward and punches James in the jaw with a right hook. James twists as he falls and lands on a knee. The man raises his arms up as he circles around James, causing the crowd to go wild.
James wipes a hand across his lower lip and looks at the blood on his thumb. He slams a fist into the ground before turning and standing back up to face his opponent. The man, a couple of steps away from James, waves his arms up and down for the roaring crowd.
Putting his left foot back and his hands up, James says, “I get what’s going on here. But first, I will say, that is the last time you hit me.”
The man stops waving his arms and looks at James, confused. James smiles a bit and says, “Come on fuck bucket, let’s see you bleed now.”
The man steps in closer to James and throws out a couple of jabs, which James quickly dodges and counters with a couple punches to the ribs. The man takes a step back and yells as he throws another right hook. James ducks down and straightens his left leg behind him.
As the other man's arm passes above him, James shoots his knee up, and with a loud cracking sound, lands it into the man’s rib cage. The man bends down and clenches his chest as he yells out again, this time in pain.
James gives a quick right jab to the man’s face, pushing him back a little, and brings his left leg back again. As the man turns his head back from the jab he just took, James swings his left leg around as he jumps up. The top of his foot smashes into the man’s jaw, sending him spiraling to the ground.
Landing on his feet from the kick, James watches the man’s head bounce off the dirt. Under his breath, James says, “Roundhouse,” with a sly grin.
The crowd erupts in both boos and cheers as the man lays there, unconscious. After a few seconds, they start their chant again, “Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.”
James looks around and then over to the Fatman. The Fatman raises up an arm, and the crowd quiets down. He stands up and yells to James, “Only one man can leave a fight alive. So kill him.”
James takes a step back away from the man on the ground and yells back, “NO! You are out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to kill someone. How about you bring your fat, mouth breathing ass down here, then the crowd can see someone die.”
A flat “ohhh,” comes from the crowd.
James continues, “You all seem pretty keen on killing people. Yet, you are the ones who call me a traitor of man. For what?”
The fat man replies, “You are not people. After America bombed its own cities, killing millions of its own citizens, they left us all to die. And yet, you still go running back to them, those murderers. That is why you are deemed a traitor to mankind. So, if you don’t want to kill him, then so be it. But you will watch as he dies… Bring out the Baron!”
The crowd immediately falls silent. The guards that brought James and the man to the ring start to walk towards them. As James turns around towards them, he gets ready to fight. He quickly drops to the ground as the prods from a stun gun shoot electricity into him.
The two guards grab James and bring him to his knees. The same is done to the man James just defeated. James looks up to see the crowd in front of him parting for someone new. All he can see is a black top hat walking through the crowd.
When the front of the crowd opens up James whispers to himself, “What the fuck is that?”
A remarkably tall and thin man comes into the ring. His skin pale white, accenting the black clothes that cover him. Under his black top hat, sits a bald head painted like a skull. Red eyes pierce out from the black circles painted around them. His nose is covered in black. Lines around his mouth form the shape of teeth which makes it look like he is chewing on the lit cigar protruding from them.
His cheeks are shaded in, just under the cheekbones. A long, open trench coat flows like the Dead Sea from the flipped up collar all the way to the ground. Across his bare white chest is a strap holding the sword on his back. Two silver pistols on his belt peek out as the wind throws his trench coat back. In his left hand, he twirls a cane with a small, blood-soaked skull sitting at the head.
He slowly walks up towards the two men being held down on their knees. His cane never touching the ground as he just twirls it in his hand. He stops in between them and turns right to face them. He turns his head over to James, and they lock eyes for a couple seconds as the Baron stops twirling his cane and starts to lightly swing it in his hand.
James and the Baron both turn their head to the man that just lost, who is slowly starting to come back to the world of consciousness. He shakes his head a bit and tries to break free from the two guards holding him, but can’t. He looks up and sees the Baron.
“No no no no no,” he says as he uselessly tries harder to break free.
The Baron takes a couple steps and stops to the side of
the defeated man. He takes his right hand and reaches behind his shoulder. Slowly, a long, black sword appears as he pulls it from its sheath. Its handle is covered in black leather, its blade long and thick. It is thin at the handle but quickly widens with a slight curve to the point. He brings it in front of him and straightens it out above the neck of the other man.
The Baron twirls the cane in his left hand once and slams it into the ground. He takes a long inhale from the cigar in his mouth as he lifts the sword in his other hand. In the blink of an eye, he swings down towards the man's neck but stops just after it breaks the skin, embedding into his spine. The other man lifts his head up and looks into James' eyes.
His head starts to shake and turn bright red as he struggles for the life of him to make a noise, any noise, but can’t. His eyes tear up as the Baron bends over and puts his face next to him. With smoke pouring from his mouth, the Baron whispers into the man’s ear.
The man’s eyes widen as much as they can while blood slowly starts to drip from the sides of his neck. Before the first drop hits the ground, the Baron stands back up.
He slowly slides his sword, without cutting down any further, until the guard of it touches the side of the man's neck. He takes another large puff from his cigar and lets the smoke slowly seep out of his mouth, engulfing his head. Then, as fast as lightning, the Baron swings his arm down and across his body.
The sword slides through the man's neck with ease and is placed back into its sheath before the smoke around the Baron’s head can even give way to the rushing air around it. The man’s head falls to the ground as it stares at James and gives a small bounce.
Coming to a stop, it blinks twice while James stares into the severed head’s dying eyes. James averts his gaze and puts his head down, only to see a thin river of blood, slowly pushing its way towards him.
The Baron takes a couple steps forward and stands in front of James. The stream of blood flows between his feet when he stops.
James looks up at the man and says, “If you are gonna kill me, make it quick.”
He grabs the skull of his cane and pulls on it, revealing a thin, short blade. He looks down at James and with a deep voice that seems to echo in James’ head, says, “Silly man. I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to collect my payment for the service I just provided. A pound of flesh is all I ask of you. Remember this, in case I ever get called on again.”
He takes another large puff from the cigar in his mouth. Then, he bends over James and quickly makes two long cuts into his back. James tries to hold in a scream, giving a muffled grunt, and tries to break free of the guards holding him, but can't. The Baron puts the small knife back into his cane and puts his hand on James' back, over the two long cuts.
“Thank you, Mr. Matheson,” he says as he digs his fingers into the two cuts and rips out a strip of flesh.
EIGHTEEN
James quickly opens his eyes and sits up. In the cot lined room, he sees Henry and Oliver across from him. Next to the door sits their packs. Removing the blanket from over him, he says, “Hey guys, time to wake up.”
He gets up, moseys over to Oliver, and gives him a good shake. Oliver opens his eyes and throws the blanket off of him. He quickly gets out of the bed and looks around.
“Where are we?” he asks.
“No idea, my guess would be that they finally opened those fucking doors.”
Oliver scratches his head as he tries to remember what exactly happened. James walks over and wakes up Henry. As he gives Henry a small shake, he can see a bloodied bandage over Henry’s left ear. He quickly stops shaking him and waits for a second. He checks Henry’s pulse and lets out a small sigh of relief as he puts his head down.
“Well, if you are gonna buy me dinner first, you should probably give me a massage,” Henry says with a slight slur as he opens his eyes.
James and Oliver look at each other and start laughing hysterically. Henry sits up and asks, “What is so funny?”
James gives Henry a pat on the back and says, “I think you have your words a little mixed up. Should be if I give you a massage, I should buy you dinner first.”
Henry puts his hand over his ear and says, “You know what I meant dammit. Now, where are we and what is on my ear?”
“How are you feeling? You doing ok?” James asks.
“Yeah, just fine and dandy. A bit out of it though.” He pulls the bandage off his ear and looks at it for a second before he crumbles it up. He continues, “Got a small headache, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine.”
Oliver stretches and says, “That’s good. With a number of head injuries you have had in the past, we will have to start worrying about extra brain damage.”
Henry shakes his head and tosses up a middle finger, “I got your brain damage right here, ass.”
James gets up and walks over to the bags in between him and the door. He shuffles them around and pulls his up onto his cot. As he looks through it, Oliver says, “Last thing I remember is blowing the truck up. Seems we got knocked out and pulled in.”
James pulls out the satellite phone from his bag. “Crap, looks like we won’t be calling anyone from this thing anymore.”
He holds it up for the others to see. The antenna is dangling from a mix of exposed and broken wires. He drops it down to the floor.
The door to the small room opens. A man steps into the doorway. His broad shoulders almost make it impossible for him to walk straight through it. If he was a few inches taller, he would have to duck down as well. The hair on the sides of his head is somewhat short, while the top is a bit longer as the tips of his bangs almost pierce into his blue eyes. He has a small beard covering his square jaw and wide lips. His Serra suit looks like it is struggling not to tear from around his chest, but is a bit loose around the abdomen.
“You're awake. Good.” The man says as he steps out of the doorway and into the room.
Henry replies, “Well thank you, Captain Obvious.”
The man gives a crooked smile, “Close, but the name is Captain Lance Hammer and maybe you should respect my-”
He gets cut off as the team starts to laugh. Through the laughter, James says, “Sorry, they told us your name in the briefing, but really? Captain Hammer?”
Henry blurts out, “Don't worry bro, Captain Hammer will save us.”
The Captain yells, “Shut your damn mouth! How about you all show your higher command some respect before I shut it for you.”
James walks over and tosses his hand on the Captain’s shoulder, “Hey, Hammer time, how about you treat us with some fucking respect. We aren’t military. Haven’t been for years. We contract through the science department. Which means, the only chain of command we follow is me, then Dr. Stone. So how about you calm your tits.”
The Captain puts his hands up with his palms facing the team and says, “Ok. Ok. Let’s all calm down. As you can probably tell, shit has been stressful around here.” He shrugs off James’ hand. “I’m just glad they finally sent a team up to help us. It looks like you guys lost a few people on the way up here as well. I'm sorry for your loss.”
Henry starts to fold his blanket and replies, “No. It's just the three of us.”
The Captain looks at the three men confused, “No way just three of you got here by yourselves. We barely got halfway here before the Skullniks attacked or we had a bunch of Arctics coming at us from those damn trains.”
James replies, “It wasn’t really that bad for the most part. Besides a trap or two, it was pretty smooth.”
Oliver grabs his pack, “Almost as if someone might have wanted us to make it here.”
James smiles and thrusts a thumb in front of his chest, “Well Captain, I am James.” He straightens his hand and arm, points it at Oliver and says, “Soulless over here is Oliver.”
Oliver quickly adds, “Ginger jokes, really?”
James swings his hand over to Henry, “This hairless polar bear over here is Henry.” He swings back around to the captain. “Now tha
t you know who we are, also know that we are taking point on this. No need for formalities or any of that shit with us either. We just need to get what is left of your team and the tech back home to Serra.”
Captain Hammer looks to James and asks, “You by any chance wouldn’t be James Matheson, would you?”
James nods his head, “Yeah, what of it?”
Before the now wide-eyed Captain can say anything, a woman moves from around the Captain and says, “Well, that explains everything.”
She is short, with somewhat wide shoulders and a thin waist. Her long red hair hangs from a ponytail behind her head. A Serra suit conforms nicely to the curves that shape her body. Her blue eyes scan the room as her thin lips purse slightly into a short smile.
She looks right at Henry and says, “Hello everyone.” She tightens her lips into a smirk, says “Henry,” and turns to James. “I am Sergeant Jessica Dunham. Welcome and sorry to be blunt but, I hope you have a plan for us to leave since we have no way of transport out of here after you blew those trucks up. Plus, we have more company outside.”
James tilts his head a little and asks, “More? How long have we been out? I thought we thinned that herd out to almost nothing.”
Jessica and the Captain turn around as she says, “Follow us. We will show you.”
Everyone makes their way into a small security room. On a desk, five screens show a video feed of the outside of the compound. Each one shows a different side of the building, the fifth showing the main door. The building is surrounded by Arctics again. They are just standing still, staring at the building, as if they are waiting for something. Jessica grabs a joystick from the desk and moves it around. On one of the screens, the video feed moves up and zooms in a bit. A new train can be seen in the distance with more Arctics walking out of it.
“You guys were out for about three hours. The first train came about two hours ago and this one pulled up about twenty minutes ago. You say someone might have helped you get here, but it looks like someone is making damn sure we don't leave,” Captain Hammer says.
