My hesitation grew with each step toward the entrance. I knew it may be my last moment in Bathory.
I leaned my seat up at the incessant urging of the uniformed woman as the engines began to roar. The plane rolled along and the foliage native to Bathory at edge of the runway caught my eye. I would miss the familiar trees. The scenery morphed to a steady green blur as the plane accelerated. The bottom dropped from under us. Waves of tingling circled through my body as I peered out at the shrinking trees. The landing gear settled under our feet with a thunk.
We rocketed over the expansive skyline of the city. Tall slivers of metal and glass sprouted from the ground and lingered in the clouds. The giant structures faded in the distance until they completely disappeared from view.
"Goodbye," I whispered.
I jerked in my seat when the plane shook. Bags rattled overhead. Kyle's hand gripped my forearm tight.
"We're landing." He smiled.
"Did I sleep the whole time?"
"Yep."
When the plane unexpectedly wobbled again, I let out a squeal. People stared at me and looked annoyed.
My face tightened to a frown and I sneered at Kyle.
"What?" he asked.
"All you care about is riding on this stupid plane."
"So."
"Whatever."
I sat with my arms crossed, wrinkling my nose as Kyle enjoyed the ride.
"Come on Mags, seriously. We get to be the new kids. Start over. It's gonna be fun, you'll see."
"He's insane." I glared at Dad and ignored Kyle's attempts to appease me.
Kyle shrugged. "He just wants to help people."
"He needs to help his own family, not strangers we don't even know. He's driving me crazy."
Kyle wrapped his arm around me when the wheels of the plane screeched on the runway. The seatbelt dug into my waist.
"I'm here." He grinned. "We'll make it fun."
When I turned back I met his boyish grin. "Fine."
The airport was modern, with bright colored screens and clean tiles. It was like a cruel trick designed to make people travel there so Golem could trap them within its borders.
My face scrunched as I looked at Kyle. He’d researched this dump before we left. “What is this place?”
“It’s a separate country created within the U.S., like a reservation.”
“What?”
“A long time ago it was a prison. The surrounding states sent criminals here because they didn’t have any place to put them.”
“Great. Dad brought us to a prison.” I threw my arms in the air.
“It’s not a prison. The people mixed in. Now it’s a country.”
I looked around. “Nope, still a prison.”
Kyle chuckled.
Dad looked over at us. “Hey guys, come help with the bags. Our ride will be here any minute.”
I grabbed the lightest bag there was and took off toward the door.
When we walked outside my head swiveled as I took in the view of the city. Tall, silver mountains lined the horizon to the west, their peaks like jagged blades stabbed up through the earth. Downtown was just north of the airport and a taupe, grimy haze rose above it. Dilapidated high rises and worn buildings were packed together, mirroring the cardboard shelters of the homeless that sat between them.
Kyle and I stood outside the airport, waiting for a car to take us deeper into the grubby city. Other travelers rushed around. Most of them seemed in a hurry and they rarely looked up. A filthy mist coated everything with the stench of exhaust fumes. I rubbed my arms and tried to get rid of the sooty film I imagined sticking to my skin and clothes.
I glanced at Kyle. He didn’t look at me and seemed to be doing his best to avoid a conversation. I was about to say something nasty about the city, but a pale yellow cab pulled up in front of us. It rocked as one wheel jumped up over the curb and slammed back to the road. The driver, short and chubby, emerged and slammed his door. He smirked at the curb. His stained, white tank top worked hard to cover his round stomach while he examined the car for damage. His jeans were tattered and cinched to his waist but hung baggy around the legs. A toothpick hung out of his mouth and seesawed up and down when he spoke.
"Madison?"
He smelled of foul cabbage and cigarettes, and he wheezed loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Yes." Dad stepped forward holding a suitcase.
"Follow." The cabbie motioned to the trunk.
We crammed everything we could into the box on wheels. Dad strapped two suitcases to the top with weathered rope the cabbie pulled from under the seat. Faded black letters read "TAXI" under the chipped paint. Foreign symbols likely said the same underneath in starker letters, the language of Golem.
"Come, come, I take new home." The cabbie’s crooked teeth showed when he smiled.
I turned to Mom and crushed her with a pitiful stare that begged her to reconsider.
"I can't believe you're doing this to me."
Tears dripped down Mom's face, landing on blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders.
It didn't phase me. "Now you know how I feel."
I turned to the cabbie. "Can't wait." I glared at my parents with contempt as Kyle, Mom, and I piled into the back seat. I held up the broken seat belt with a show of disgust as we sped down the road.
A few minutes into the ride and I hated the place even more. The roads were cracked and massive potholes tossed me like a rag doll in the back seat. Even the trees looked like they wanted to be somewhere else, sagging and drooping to the ground.
People streamed down the sides of the road, shuffling past each other, blending in with the dust that floated in the air. Depression and despair enveloped the city. The driver kept looking back and smiling unpleasantly, his rotten teeth sending shivers up my spine.
The crescent sun was impaled by the sharp mountains and disappeared slowly behind us. Lights flickered through the city as the electricity struggled to pass through the grid. I covered my nose, trying to ward off the smell permeating the air. It was sewage, but also something worse, something even more rotten. Whatever it was, it lingered, and I was afraid I would smell that way, too. Kyle didn’t seem to notice. He stared out the window and grinned, as if we were starting some new adventure. I glared at him something awful, wishing he would realize how horrible this place was.
Dad tried to make friends with the driver. "Lived here long?"
"Whole life. My family were the first prisoners sent to Golem many years ago."
"Is it dangerous?" My ears perked up.
The cabbie's rotted teeth appeared in the rear view mirror, his eyes locked on me. "Can be."
"Are there places we should avoid?"
The smile turned to a serious scowl. "No where, who. You see Kiril, you disappear."
Dad gulped. "Who is Kiril?"
"Run city. Evil in veins. The politicians—" He paused to chuckle. "—are only for show. They have no power. Kiril Salzberg is boss. You know when see."
Dad and Mom exchanged a look before he changed the subject. "So, what kind of things do kids do for fun here?"
"Oh, many park, school, Golem great place for kid."
The tension eased as we weaved through the streets. Downtown mirrored the rest of the city, other than one block of buildings that looked new and out of place, like they belonged in Bathory.
Dad looked back at me. I knew it was coming. He knew I liked skyscrapers. It was true, but I liked the ones in Bathory. Not the ones sitting in the middle of this dump. "Check out the buildings, Mags."
I scoffed. Pointing out a few nice things in a pile of crap was not going to win me over.
"School and church," said the driver, nodding to a small building with a peeling façade next to another with a cracked steeple.
Dad looked at me again, a hopeful smile plastered to his face. Round two, Dad? Really? "See Mags, it's not so bad." Mom stared at him and shook her head.
A small, squat school building caught my
eye. It was dilapidated like everything else here, but graffiti slathered the walls. Not ornate, artistic graffiti, but black and red splatter. It was like someone tested a can on the wall before creating a masterpiece someplace else. Vines climbed the sides of the rotted wood and corrugated metal. A few shingles dotted the roof. The death trap seemed like it might collapse on someone at any moment.
"Fantastic." I huffed and leaned back against the frayed seat.
Mom shot me a look. "Be nice."
"What? I said it looks fantastic. I just hope I'm inside when it puts me out of my misery."
Kyle began to choke on the water he was sipping. Some of it came through his nose. He laughed through the pain, not by choice. Mom and Dad stared at each other and shook their heads, smiling.
"Glad I'm amusing." I folded my arms once more and sighed before glaring out the window.
Bouncing through a neighborhood, I stared at the run down shacks all crammed together, only separated by thin, rotting wood that caged in the backyards. The front yards were mostly dirt with a weed here and there.
Pulling up to our home, my jaw hit the floor. "It gets better."
The house was a fourth the size of our last and was a hideous yellow color that stood out like highlighted text. I couldn't tell if the bushes grew from inside or in front of it. A giant black tire hung from frayed rope on the tree in the front yard, like someone tried to spruce up the shack and wanted to label it 'kid friendly'.
Dad lugged our bags to the front door, Mom following.
"This ain't so bad." Kyle smiled.
He took off running toward the swing and leapt in the air, wrapping his legs around the tire. When the rope tightened, the branch snapped and crashed to the ground. Kyle tumbled toward the neighbor's yard and the tire bounced down the road.
Kyle got to his feet and made a show of dusting himself off. We all burst into laughter. He was such a goofball it was hard to stay mad at him. I was determined though. When the giggles wore off I realized this was it. This was my house, my yard, my life. I walked to the front door, defeat in every step.
I looked up at dad with a thin smile. "Whatever."
I dragged my feet toward the kitchen of the tiny, barren house. Each step was heavier than the last as the smell of pancakes wafted to my nose. On the first day of school I would usually have a stomach full of butterflies. Today I worried about the school crushing me to death.
A familiar crucifix hung in the hallway as I walked past. I thought of at least ten things that would have been a better fit for the suitcase.
I stared at it with contempt. "Thanks a lot."
As far as I was concerned, the supposed deity hanging above my head was the reason I was stuck in this god-forsaken place. My parents attended church for a month and then suddenly uprooted my life.
Without thinking, I stuck my tongue out at the almighty (the most vulgar thing I could think of) but immediately felt lightning might strike the house. I apologized in my mind. The last thing I needed was god rooting against me.
The floorboards creaked and I felt them depress under my toes. As I eased around the corner, Mom and Dad smiled at each other in the kitchen. Pancakes sizzled on the pan as mom flipped them. I grinned at the brief glimpse into my old life.
Waves of reality crashed into me when they turned around.
"Ready for your first day?" Mom asked.
"No."
They looked at one another. It didn't matter how much they smiled, I would not like this place and they were not forgiven.
"Hey Mags." Kyle tapped me on the back of the head as he zoomed by.
"Don't mess with me today."
"Ohh."
Kyle skipped into the kitchen and hugged Mom and Dad. He stole a piece of a pancake when nobody was watching. I grumbled and took my seat at the table. It was small and rickety as we huddled around it. Our plates clinked into one another.
A beast-sized bird cackled out of tune in the front yard. I glared in its direction, thinking of ways to return the torturous favor. Dad caught my hand as I reached for a stack of pancakes. He squeezed it firm.
"We say thanks to god first."
I blew a wayward strand of hair from my face. "How could I forget?"
Kyle snickered but closed his eyes. I refused to pretend to pray. I sat there and stared in disdain as Dad began.
"Lord, we thank you for this day. We pray that you bless this food and use our hands to do your work. We pray that others will find you the way we have and we can be tools to do your will. Please allow the community to accept and welcome us. Help Maggie and Kyle find friends, and that we all raise up your name in everything we do. In your name we pray. Amen."
I scoffed. Dad's foot tapped on the ground. I refused to believe in their nonsense, but decided to take it easy for a bit. I was already pushing boundaries to the limit.
I bit into a pancake, glad for a taste of home. But once the rancid taste hit my tongue, I spit it out and sputtered. "What is in these?"
"I had to adjust the recipe." Mom looked like she might cry.
"They're nasty." I used my napkin to wipe the disgusting taste from my tongue.
Tears sparkled in the corner of Mom’s eyes as she tried to compose herself. "I'm sorry, baby girl. I'll work on it. Okay?"
Dad’s stare burned a hole into my skull as Mom brushed my hair behind my ear.
It wasn’t that I wanted to be miserable. I didn’t. I wanted to like the place for them. I just couldn't. It didn't matter what they said or what they did. I would never like it there. Ever.
"May I be excused?"
Dad noticed Mom’s hard stare.
"Sure."
My plate rattled against the sink and I scurried toward the hall.
"I think they're great." Kyle shoveled a fork full in his mouth, syrup dangling from his chin as I left the room.
Laughter from the kitchen crept through the door while I dragged my feet, taking as long as possible to get ready for the day. The happiness in their voices raised my hackles. If we were back home I'd be walking with Kyle, excited to see all my old friends, heading to my old school. I wanted to cry. The first day of school was always my favorite. Now they had stolen it from me, along with everything else.
"Maggie let's go, I'm not waiting all day, slow poke!” Kyle yelled from the kitchen.
I plodded through the hall and made my way to the door. I mocked Kyle. "I don't have all day, let's go."
Mom's hands went to her hips. "Be nice! You guys be careful. I'll see you at school."
Walking down the gravel sidewalk, the dingy city and filth in the air wrapped around us. I stared at the shoddy buildings and makeshift shanties we passed.
We rounded a corner and noticed some kids huddled in a group.
"Look how filthy they are. Keep walking."
"Why?" Kyle asked.
"Because, look at them."
"Mags, they're just kids like us. What is your deal?"
"I don't know. There is just something about this place. It creeps me out."
Even though we were blocks away, I could still hear that ghastly annoying bird in our front yard. I was plotting every way possible to kill it when Kyle started talking to the kids. I nudged him. The kids looked past us. Their eyes all grew wide.
Several of them repeated that dreadful name. The name the cabbie had spoken. "Kiril."
I saw a group of fifteen men fanned out across the street. The kids quickly bent over at the waist and bowed as the men neared.
Kyle and I froze. They all wore sharp, navy blue pinstriped suits and fedoras. They also walked the same: chest out, stiff legs, chin up.
I strained my eyes to a man in the middle of the pack. "What is wrong with his face?"
Kyle stared at him. "I don't know."
One of the boys shouted something inaudible to Kyle and motioned for him to bow.
Kyle took the hint. "We should bow."
"For what?" I eyed the men.
"Just do it, okay? You heard what the
cabbie said about this guy."
"I'm not bowing for a bunch of guys in weird hats. That's stupid." I shook my head.
"Maggie, please, Dad would—"
"I'm not bowing.” He could hear the conviction in my words. The men were just people—people of Golem, at that—and I wasn’t going to bow to them. "What is that on his—" My stomach churned in knots when I realized the leader’s face was wrapped in thin white linen that only showed his mouth and eyes. Is he a mummy? I regained my composure, intent on teaching the boys a lesson.
Kyle bent over and avoided eye contact with the men. Arms folded across my thin chest, I glared at them. One noticed and tapped another on the arm. They all stopped and stared in my direction. My knees started to wobble.
My heart dropped into my stomach but I refused to give in. Who were these guys? Why should I bow for them? My family came here to help and as far as I was concerned they should be grateful someone from the civilized world showed up in their country at all.
The man with the mummified face emerged and approached me with measured steps. He towered over me, his shadow layering on top of mine, making a monster on the pavement. His eyes were narrow and slate gray. He was death on legs, a ghost filled with pure evil. The boys quaked, but refused to raise their heads.
I stared at his hideous face, intent on standing my ground.
My bones chilled when he spoke in deep, calculated syllables.
"What's your name?"
"What's yours?" I glared at what parts of him I could see.
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. His bandages wrinkled.
"Kiril."
"What kind of name is that?"
He stared at me and cocked his head sideways. His gaze was somehow malevolent, piercing my soul like a shard of ice. He leaned in, studying my eyes, and ignored my question. "Why don't you bow?"
"Why should I?"
"Respect."
My hands trembled and his lips curled a bit more when he took notice.
"Well, I don't want to."
Kiril rose and belted out a laugh while silence surrounded him. It was the kind of laugh that haunted dreams. The men with him winced at my words.
The Matriarch: An Erotic Superhero Romance (The Matriarch Trilogy Book 1) Page 2
