The Undertakers: End of the World

by Ty Drago

  Little Bob listened with fascination—and even, I thought, a tiny bit of hope. Then again, how do you read the expression of something that doesn’t have a face?

  “Such a weapon has been considered,” he said. “But we have no means to make it here in the Ether. Someone in a material world would be required. In fact, we have often considered the possibility of reaching out to such an individual, should the opportunity ever present itself.”

  “What kind of opportunity?” Tom asked.

  “A Rift,” Little Bob replied. “The Fifth Column have no means of opening one, as we have no access to Anchor Shards. Our only hope is an enterprising individual in the material world doing so, either accidentally or deliberately.”

  I suddenly thought of Professor Moscova, and his early experiments with the sliver—years in the future.

  And then I thought of Enigma.

  I wonder …

  Little Bob asked, “But tell me, where is this … Fore?”

  I shifted uncomfortably and looked at the girls, who shifted uncomfortably, too. Only Tom stood, as ever, calm and stoic. “We don’t have it with us,” he admitted.

  “Then failure is certain,” the creature pronounced.

  “First things first,” the chief said. “Tell us about bavarak. You said I was right that, if we win, the Queen will have to let us go.”

  “She is not the Queen,” Little Bob repeated. “But merely the most despised of the late Queen’s daughters. She is also but one of at least twenty pretenders to the throne, now that our previous ruler has been destroyed. Some of her rivals are among the late Queen’s other children, of which she had many, and the rest are all members of royal clans of similar rank … distant relatives.”

  “Where are all these other Royals?” Helene asked. “And why is that one out there in charge of the … crowd.”

  “She is the only Royal who happened to be on hand when you arrived, and so assumed command over the warrior caste that were already nearby. Our world is vast and her rivals are elsewhere. By now, word of your … invasion … has surely reached them, and so some will be on their way. But in the meantime, this one has taken advantage of the situation. Undertakers are feared and hated amongst the Malum, so defeating you publicly would greatly strengthen her political position. That’s why bavarak will occur quickly, immediately, before another Royal can arrive and perhaps usurp her authority over the crowds who come to watch.”

  “Fantastic,” I muttered.

  “How do y’all take power?” Sharyn asked. “You dudes hold an election or something?”

  “No,” replied the creature. “The contenders will conspire against each other and vie for support and, when one or two of them feel confident enough of their position, they will begin assassinating the rest, one by one.”

  “That’s also horrible,” Helene said.

  “It is. But it’s been our way since the dawn of our civilization.”

  “Sorry to hear it,” said Tom. “But how’s ‘bout we keep our eye on the ball? Will she free us if we win, or won’t she?”

  “She will have to,” Little Bob said. “You were correct about that. To go back on her word, when given so publicly, would undermine her bid for the throne. The honor of bavarak is highly prized among the Malum.”

  “Good to hear,” I replied.

  Then the little guy said, “But you won’t win.”

  Again, we looked at him and then at each other. “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because she will call on the kotha.”

  Sharyn asked, “The … what now?”

  “The kotha are of the warrior caste,” Little Bob explained. “But they are bred, as many of the specialty castes are bred, for a very specific purpose. In this case, that purpose is to participate in bavarak.”

  “Gladiators,” Tom said.

  “Your gladiators were simply humans with combat training. The kotha are born to be what they are: arena fighters. They are larger and stronger than even the royal caste. They have no fear and no pity, and once ordered to attack, they will keep attacking … no matter what happens … until their prey is dead.”

  “Ouch,” Helene muttered.

  “How does it work?” Tom asked, sounding as unflustered as ever. “Will the four of us be put up against four of these kotha?”

  “The odds in bavarak are never one to one,” Little Bob said, sounding a bit sickened. “More likely three or four to one. Officially, this is to make the combat more of a spectacle, since kotha will often fight each other in their frenzy to reach a shared prey. But the hidden reason is that the Royals can’t risk someone actually winning against them.”

  “Crap,” I said.

  “Major smelly crap,” Helene added.

  The creature nodded its weird head almost sagely. “Quite so. But to answer your question, bavarak is traditionally fought between kotha and a single alien champion. You will have to choose amongst yourselves who will go into the arena. But know this: That single warrior fights for all your lives. Upon his or her death, the despised daughter will immediately order the rest of you to be executed.”

  Tom nodded. “Okay,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Okay?” I echoed, incredulous. “Chief, we’re in deep trouble!”

  “Yeah,” he replied thoughtfully. “We are.”

  “I ain’t worried,” Sharyn announced, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she meant it. Then she held up Vader. “I got this. So bring ‘em on!”

  “A weapon,” Little Bob mused, his blue eye coming forward to examine the shining sword. “I’ve heard of such things, but never seen one. They are forbidden here.”

  “Yeah, well, we don’t have pinchers at the end of our hands and a hundred teeth in our heads,” I said.

  “Yet, you came,” the creature said. “Four of you, and without the means necessary to accomplish your goal.”

  “We thought we had the means,” Helene replied. “The Binelli was supposed to do the job.”

  “No, he’s right,” Tom said. “Steve’s freeze gun was cool, but it was a long shot and we all knew it. Without Fore, the odds were stacked against us.”

  Little Bob remarked, “Nevertheless, you risked it. Why?”

  I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it again. The little dude had a point. And I had no answer for him, at least nothing more informative than “Undertakers be crazy!”

  But the chief, as usual, did have an answer. “Because we needed to hit back.”

  Little Bob’s blue eye turned toward us. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your kind invaded our world, killed our people, and would have wasted our whole planet if we’d let you. Did you really think we’d forget about you and go on with our lives? How do we know that in … I dunno … thirty years, you won’t regroup and try again, sacrifice another whole mess o’ Builders, pop another Anchor Shard off the Eternity Stone, and punch another hole from here to Earth? The only way to stop you is to trash that crystal. So we came.”

  He stepped closer. “But here’s the thing. This time there’s only four of us. But next time there might be forty. And, if they blow it, there might be four hundred, or four thousand. With better weapons. Smarter plans. But, sooner or later, we’re gonna blast that big crystal doorknob of yours into a million useless pieces. ‘Cause we’re human … and that’s what happens when you piss us off!”

  “I understand,” Little Bob replied, sounding thoughtful. Then, with his green eye turning back toward us, he said, “Perhaps our two species aren’t so different after all.”

  “Now that’s just nasty!” Helene snapped.

  “I meant no insult,” the creature said. “I simply suggest that we share the same determination, the same drive to advance our purpose. Your victory against the Queen was more than unexpected. It was unprecedented. Tales told of the exploits of the Undertakers are quickly becoming legend. Already, the ranks of the Fifth Column have grown as more and more of my people, from across
all castes … or nearly so … realize that this terrible path we’ve walked for so long may not be the only path. You have inspired us.”

  “Glad to help,” Tom said dryly. “But it don’t do much to improve our circumstances.”

  “It might,” Little Bob said. “But only if you can win bavarak. Such an act would be as unprecedented as your winning of the war, and might very well galvanize like-minded Malum into open revolt.”

  A civil war, I thought. Here in this giant Void in the Ether. Ten-legged monsters against other ten-legged monsters, with the fate of the universe at stake.

  “Sounds like a low-budget sci-fi movie,” Helene said.

  She’d read my mind.

  “But possible,” Little Bob assured her.

  “If we win,” said Sharyn and, when she did, I thought I caught something peculiar in the tone of her voice. Her usual bravado wasn’t there. What’s more, when I glanced at her, she wore an odd expression. Not defiant, or even confident. This look was more thoughtful, considerate, as if something was going on between her ears, something she didn’t want to share. At least not yet.

  “If you win,” the creature echoed. “If not, then the hated daughter will use your defeat to try to swing political power in her direction. As I said, bavarak is of considerable cultural importance to my people. Victory or death in the arena is said to be the edict of fate. You must be victorious.”

  “How can we be?” Tom asked. “If these kotha are as bad-ass as you say they are, then what chance have we got?”

  For a long time, a really long time, Little Bob didn’t answer. When he finally did, it wasn’t an answer I liked.

  “Very little, I’m afraid.”

  Chapter 38

  Champion

  Three hours later, the walls came down.

  It happened without warning. Suddenly, the roof over our heads began to pull back, starting at its peak and working downward from both sides, as more and more of the tiny Malum detached from one another and skittered away.

  Once our interview with Little Bob had ended, and not on an optimistic note, Tom had insisted that we all try to rest. So the four of us had stretched out on the hard black Ether that served as our floor and struggled to get as comfortable as possible. I’d even tried to sleep. I really did, remembering the soldier’s rule about stealing rest when you could.

  But, in this case, I was just too terrified.

  “Looks like time’s up,” Sharyn finally remarked.

  Tom stood first. We all followed him. Then, as if sharing the same thought, we turned toward the spot on the back wall where Little Bob had done his talking. But if he was still there, he’d tucked himself in amidst his brothers, and we couldn’t tell him apart from the rest. Besides, what would be the point? He’d helped us all he could.

  “Listen up,” the chief said as the walls began to disassemble from the top down, like sandcastles in the rain. “First off, I want to apologize to y’all. I brought us here, and now it seems pretty clear that we ain’t goin’ home.”

  “We all knew that was possible,” I told him, and the girls both nodded.

  Tom replied, “Straight up. But it still needs sayin’. I’m sorry.” He took a long breath. “And second, when the time comes, I’m gonna stand as champion.”

  For several moments, none of us spoke.

  I tried to think of some argument to make, some solid reason to suggest myself instead of him. But the hard truth was that the chief had twice my skills in combat. Heck, to be honest, everyone here was a better fighter than me. I could do the “street karate” thing well enough, but Tom and Sharyn had perfected it, if not invented it. And Helene was Sharyn’s best pupil.

  It was Helene who replied first. “Okay, Chief.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  Then we looked at Sharyn.

  “We need Fore,” she said.

  “Yeah, we do, sis,” her brother replied. “But we ain’t got it. So I’ll go in with Vader and do what I can. I won’t make no promises. But, for all our sakes, I’ll give it everything I got.”

  “We know it,” I said to him.

  But Sharyn still wore that funny look. I’d expected her to scream bloody murder at the thought of Tom’s sacrifice. But there was nothing. No disagreement. No anger. Not even desperation, which I was feeling by the truckload. Instead, the girl’s brow furrowed, her jaw set, and her eyes focused on nothing. Her expression remained—thoughtful—like before.

  Then the walls were down and our conversation was over.

  From outside, warrior caste Malum encircled us. Instinctively, we huddled closer together.

  “Guys,” Helene suddenly exclaimed. “Check that out!”

  We all looked where she was pointing. Some distance away, rising almost like a mountain, stood an enormous round structure, wide as a football field and high as a skyscraper. I knew for a fact that it hadn’t been there before we’d been tossed into our bizarre, living prison.

  “What’s that?” Sharyn asked.

  A voice answered, “The arena.”

  Future Queen appeared before us, stepping through the ranks of her not-yet-minions.

  “I hope you like it,” she said, her yellow eye flashing. “We made it just for you.”

  And I knew what that meant.

  A stadium … built entirely out of tiny Malum. How freaky was that?

  “Bring them,” Future Queen commanded.

  So they brought us, scooping us up and carrying us as they had before. Though it was hard to tell, it seemed to me as if the number of Malum in the vicinity had grown, maybe even as much as doubled. Word of our appearance and capture had spread, just as Little Bob had predicted, and more and more of the ten-legged monsters were arriving to watch the show.

  As we neared the arena, I could see the lines of the Malum, thousands of them, stretching away from the stadium in all directions. Everyone was pouring in to witness the spectacle, the defeat and destruction of the Undertakers, and the cementing of “Most Despised Daughter’s” claim to the throne.

  We were hauled through a special, guarded entrance and into a long corridor, the walls and ceiling of which were made entirely of Builders. I fleetingly wondered if Little Bob was here, or maybe other members of the Fifth Column. Would they help us? Could they? It didn’t seem likely.

  Our friend, if that was what he was, had made that clear.

  We would live or die on our own.

  Probably die.

  Inside the arena, the walls sloped upward. There were no seats, no aisles, no ten-legged hotdog and popcorn sellers. Instead, the Malum all skittered up the slopes and jostled one another for the best possible view—kind of a perfect “first come, first serve” situation. Occasionally, little fights broke out among them, and I saw more than one of the monsters get torn apart by others in an argument over a choice spot.

  They reminded me of termites on a hill, except termites worked together better than these things seemed to.

  We were deposited in a small, penned area just beside the arena. The arena was nothing more than a huge open expanse of black Ether, surrounded on all sides by a twenty-foot-high wall of Builders and—above that—the spectators.

  This isn’t a stadium. It’s a coliseum. Except we’re not gladiators. We’re the Christians about to get thrown to the lions.

  A single Malum skittered out to the very center of the arena. It was Future Queen, of course. There she stood, turning in a slow circle, gesticulating. More words we couldn’t hear. I suddenly wondered if whatever ability allowed us to understand their speech only worked if the speaker wanted it to.

  As good a theory as any, I supposed.

  Sharyn asked, “You figure she’s givin’ us an intro?”

  Tom nodded.

  The crowd of monsters made a shrill, collective sound that reminded me painfully of fingernails on a chalkboard. I winced. It went on and on, this alien cheer, until it felt as if my brain was going to explode.
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  Then Future Queen made a final gesture, and everything went suddenly, impossibly quiet.

  A spot on the far wall opened and three creatures emerged.

  Ten legs, just like the rest. One movable head, just like the rest. Four eyes, just like the rest. Definitely Malum.

  But these were huge! They had to be twice the size of Future Queen, twice the size of any of her kind that I’d seen before. Their legs were each as thick as tree trunks and their bodies looked nearly as big as SUVs—every inch of them hard, leathery muscle.

  Their red eyes glowed like stars.

  “Kotha,” guessed Tom.

  “Oh my God,” Helene whispered.

  Standing beside her, I said nothing. I mean, what was there to say?

  Future Queen made a show of inspecting the three giants. Then, apparently pleased with what she saw, she came over to us, her ten legs clattering noisily across the black Ether.

  “Undertakers,” she hissed. “You must choose a champion.”

  Tom stepped forward.

  But then a hand landed on his shoulder and Sharyn said, “Me.”

  The chief looked at her, shock and horror registering on his face. “What? No!”

  “It’s okay, bro,” she told him, a gentle, almost serene smile on her face. “It’s me. It needs to be me.”

  Tom whirled on her, putting his big hands on her shoulders. “No, Sharyn. Please. I’m doing this.”

  “Not this time, Chief,” she replied gently. “This time, it’s my turn to step up. You and the others sit it out. I got this. I’m the one who trained for it, after all.”

  Tom stared at her, his face ashen. For one of the few times since I’d met him, he seemed visibly shaken. His mouth worked, but no sound came out.

  His sister reached up and cupped his face in her strong hands. “Look at me.”

  There were tears in Tom’s eyes.

  “Look at me, bro,” Sharyn said again.

  He looked at her, his expression a mask of desperation and loss.