The Forever Man: Unicorn

by Craig Zerf

  The marine pushed the door open and walked in.

  There were seven people in the room. Six wraith-like humans. Sharpened teeth, graveyard pallor. Dressed in old white doctors coats.

  Behind a huge scarred wooden desk sat a man barely recognisable as the one doctor Henry Luckman that Nathaniel had met and despised so many years before. The two decades had treated Luckman with the distain due to such a horror of a human being. His hair hung in lank twists from his half bald pate. His stomach was hugely distended, even though his limbs and neck were chicken-skinny. His eyes, although hidden deep in his sockets, glinted with an insanity that was palpable across the room and his hands shook with a violent palsy.

  The human wraiths hissed and capered about the room, snapping at Nathaniel as he walked forward. But they kept their distance, ensuring that they did not come within striking distance of his terrible axe.

  A barracuda swimming through a shoal of bait fish. A leopard amongst jackals.

  Luckman glared insanely at The Forever Man and then he burst out laughing.

  The human wraiths stared at their master’s mirth and, in obedience, they joined in, except for the one that returned to wailing tonelessly in lamentation.

  Nathaniel stood amongst the insane cacophony and said nothing.

  ‘I know you,’ said the doctor. ‘You haven’t changed. You’re the same age. Have you travelled forward in time?’ He rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. ‘They’ve sent you to get me, haven’t they?’

  ‘Who?’ Asked Nathaniel.

  ‘Them,’ replied the doctor. ‘All of them. They’re jealous, you see. Rotten with envy.’

  Nathaniel recognised the doctor’s symptoms immediately. The hugely distended stomach, the uncontrollable shaking, the rampant paranoia.

  ‘You have Prions disease,’ said the marine.

  ‘What?’ Shouted Luckman. ‘So now you’re the doctor? Do you even know what Prions disease is?’

  ‘Human mad cow,’ answered Nathaniel. ‘You get it from eating other people. You get it from being a cannibal.’

  The doctor sighed. ‘Oh God, that again. Every time that I see you it’s all that you talk about. You’re fixated on cannibalism. It’s boring. Boring, boring, boring.’

  Luckman stood up and pointed a shaking finger at the marine. ‘And I am afraid that the penalty for being boring is death. Kill him!’ he screeched.

  The wraiths gathered around the marine, hissing and spitting like wild cats, looking for an opportunity to lunge forward. To bite. To rend. To eat.

  ‘I think not,’ said The Forever Man.

  The axe spun.

  They were fast. And as agile as animals. But The Forever Man was infinitely faster than them. Waves of heat boiled off him as he swung and ducked and rolled. The axe sang its joy as it hewed flesh from bone. All about him the room was covered in thick red blood.

  And then he stood before the doctor.

  ‘I should have done this when we first met,’ said Nathaniel.

  ‘Wait,’ the doctor threw his hand up. ‘Don’t do this. It’s not my fault. I only did what anyone else would have done in my situation. Please. I implore you. Let me live.’ He giggled. As high pitched and breathy as a little girl. ‘Let the doctor live,’ he simpered. ‘Let him live.’

  The axe swung in a tight circle. Luckman’s head leapt from his shoulders like a frightened animal escaping a trap. It hit the wall and bounced back to land at the marine’s feet.

  Nathaniel looked down at it for a while and then he kicked it under the desk.

  ‘Asshole.’

  ***

  The Forever Man sat on his ugly horse and stared at the conflagration that had consumed the Barnet House Psychiatric Hospital. A pyre that he had caused.

  After he had dispatched the doctor he had roamed the rooms and the corridors like the angel of death himself. Killing all that crossed his path and then conjuring up balls of flame to consume the rest.

  He had forever cleansed the evil of that place, scoured it from living memory and burned away its very existence. And there was no way that it could ever return.

  Using his heels to spur his horse on, the marine continued towards London.

  Chapter 33

  Personally, Tad was not that convinced about the threat of the Annihilators. But chief Char-rek was absolutely certain that it was only a matter of time before vast amounts of the insectoid creatures attacked the humans.

  As a result of his conviction he insisted that the Vandals be incorporated into the human free folk military in order for Tad, Roo and the chief to formulate a coherent use of air support to strengthen the army.

  Tad was more than happy to oblige because, even though he remained unconvinced regarding the Annihilators, he was more than sure that the Fair-Folk would be attacking in the near future.

  Due to the Vandals' abhorrence of steel, chief Char-rek told Tad that their normal way of fighting was fairly simple. Mainly, they gathered a sack of large rocks, as many as each individual could comfortably fly with, and then they went high and simply dropped them on their opponents. This was usually followed up by a ground assault involving bronze swords and bronze tipped spears.

  If and when they ever came up against other flying adversaries they fought it out in the air, hand to hand.

  Both Tad and Roo grinned when they heard this. They both instantly knew that, with a little effort, they could raise the aerial efficiency of the Vandals to a whole new level.

  The first thing that they did was to replace the sacks of rocks with bundles of short, bronze tipped arrows. Each bolt was around a foot long with a four inch, leaf shaped, razor sharp head. After a few experiments they worked out that the average Vandal could fly easily with a bundle of twenty bolts.

  Secondly, Roo designed a simple, small, double bowed, pistol crossbow. This light weapon was capable of firing two consecutive bronze bolts at a lethal distance of up to fifteen yards. They were easy to manufacture and Roo got all available blacksmiths, carpenters, handymen and their assistants onto churning them out, thereby increasing the Vandals' hand-to-hand combat capabilities by a huge factor.

  Out of the 17000 or so Vandals, chief Char-rek deemed that 8000 were capable of combat. Tad reckoned that it would be a while until they had made enough weapons and munitions for the entire Vandal wing.

  After a few days, however, the free people had made more than enough drop arrows to allow a few practice runs and so it was that Char-rek and another 500 Vandals took to the skies, each carrying a bundle of twenty arrows.

  Tad organized a hundred man sized hay bales to be scattered about an open field for target practice and the Vandals flew high over the target, mere specks in the sky, where they released their payload.

  The exercise was an unqualified success. 10000 heavy, broad-bladed arrows plummeted to earth at a velocity of over 250 miles per hour. On their journey down they spread out to cover and area of roughly 100 x 100 square feet. This resulted in a density of one arrow every square foot.

  Tad clapped Roo on the back.

  'Deadly,' he said.

  Roo laughed. 'Not exactly precision bombing but it'll do.'

  The target area looked like a giant's pincushion. Every hay bale had at least three or four arrows embedded deeply in it. Had they been actual living creatures the effect would have been catastrophic.

  ***

  Orc Sergeant Kob whipped his wooden practice sword around his body and connected with the Orc opposite him, striking him in the chest and knocking him to the ground. Then he leapt over the prostrate body and, using the pommel of his practice sword, dealt a knockout blow to his second opponent. Both the third and the fourth were knocked to the floor with a sidekick and a vicious head butt.

  Kob shook his head in disappointment. He had hand picked four of the very best combatants that he could find and, once again, they were no match for him.

  He ignored them, dropped the wooden sword to the ground and left the courtyard, deep in thought.
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br />   Chapter 35

  The Tower of London dominated the skyline, silhouetted against the vacillating colors of the constant solar flares. Resolute it stood. A stubborn pile of stone and mortar that had survived countless regimes and wars. Both a bastion and a monument to human fortitude and perseverance.

  In the street in front of the main gates stood a row of eight gibbets. Three of the gibbets were full. Two mature human males and one young female hung from them. Their tongues lolled from their slack jaws and their stomachs were distended with gas. Flies buzzed freely about them and ravens pecked at their exposed flesh.

  Below each body lay a a wooden plaque with the persons sentence scrawled across it in white paint. 'Sophistry.' 'Thievery.' 'Illegal Trading.'

  A wave of anger rose in The Forever Man that was so strong he had to support himself against a wall. His breath came in short gasps and he had to quash his rage before it threatened to engulf him and cause him to lose his reason.

  This was where the Fair-Folk said that Nathaniel should give himself up. No doubt he was to have been gibbeted for the public to see. An example of the Fair-Folk's supremacy over the humans.

  He was also sure that this was where Milly would be imprisoned.

  The marine had arrived in London the day before and had been surprised at how many humans there were living there. He had spoken to a few and common knowledge was that the bulk of the Fair-Folk in London lived either in the Tower or in the Palace of Westminster or in Buckingham Palace. All ancient buildings that had been built before the advent of central heating and electricity and modern flimsy materials. In point of fact, buildings that were built to last without the help of modern amenities or upkeep. Stone and hardwood as opposed to glass and plastic.

  The bulk of the Orcs and goblins were barracked alongside the river in the many warehouses, docks and churches.

  Security surrounding the actual Tower of London was surprisingly lax and human traders and servants seemed to enter and exit as and when they pleased. Nathaniel also noticed the odd member of the Fair-Folk leaving, ensconced in palanquins, curtains drawn so that only glimpses of them were possible.

  Before he had done a recce of the area, Nathaniel had speculated over various ways to get into the Tower. These had ranged from the stealthy, climbing the walls under cover of darkness, to the ridiculous, disguising himself as a woman and gaining access by pretending to be a seamstress.

  As it happened, he simply draped a piece of old sacking over his axe, waited for a large crowd of humans to enter the gates and then walked in with them, leaving ugly horse at a stables.

  When he was inside he decided, once again, to stick with the simple and obvious rather than the complex and esoteric. So he casually asked if anyone knew where the captured girl, Milly, was locked up.

  The second person that he asked, a middle aged woman, gave him directions to a room in the White Tower. She showed no interest in why he wanted to know and no curiosity as to who he was or why he was there. When he looked around him he noticed that most of the humans seemed similarly withdrawn and incurious. There was no smiling, no laughing. Voices were subdued and without emotion.

  The whole place reminded him of documentaries that he had seen on East Germany before the wall went down.

  There were two Orc guards at the foot of the stairway but he simply nodded at them and walked on by, climbing the stairs at a slow and steady pace. As instructed he turned left at the third floor and continued down the corridor. At the fourth door along stood an Orc guard.

  Remembering how tough they were, Nathaniel garnered his power, walked up to the Orc, and simply hit him a huge blow in the center of his chest.

  All things considered, he overdid the amount of power that he used and the Orc slammed through the door, smashing it off its hinges. He ended up, lying in the middle of the room, on top of the door, his armored chest plate stove in, barely breathing. Out for the count and more.

  Milly turned from the window.

  'Nathaniel. You came.'

  'Of course,' said the marine. 'What else?'

  Milly smiled, her face a picture of radiance. 'You love me.' She ran over and threw her arms around him.

  'Come on,' said Nathaniel. 'We've gotta move. Made a bit more noise than I wanted to. Didn't think that I'd actually knock old pig-face through the door.'

  The marine pulled Milly towards the door. But she resisted.

  'Wait.'

  'Why?' Asked the marine. 'We don't have time. Anything that you need we can pick up later. First we need to get away from here. ASAP.'

  'Stop, Nathaniel. We need to talk.'

  'No time. Run first, talk later.'

  'I'm not going,' said Milly.

  Nathaniel stopped, his mouth hung open like a stranded goldfish.

  'I don't understand. Not going where?'

  'With you.'

  'But you have to,' urged Nathaniel. 'And you have to right now before it's too late.'

  Milly shook her head and smiled gently. 'No, Nathaniel. I don't have to. In fact…I want you to stay here. With me.'

  The marine shook his head.

  'No, Nathaniel,' continued Milly. 'Wait. Listen. If you stay here we can be together. We can be the preeminent human couple in the country. We can help to govern our people. We can change things from within. No more bloodshed. No more threat of war. Of violence. Please, Nathaniel. Think about it.'

  'Jesus, Milly,' said Nathaniel. 'Just outside in the street hang three humans. Three people put to death for nothing more than petty theft, selling something and disagreeing with the Fair-Folk. You can't negotiate with these…alien things. Now come on.'

  'Those people broke the law, Nathaniel. They knew the consequences. The Fair-Folk are hard but fair. And with you and I in charge of the human contingent, we can live a life of great worth. You can still be a king and I can be your queen.'

  'King,' shouted Nathaniel. 'Do you think that I give a damn about being king? And king of what? Of who? King of the subjugated. King of the terrified and downtrodden. Gods, Milly, what the hell are you thinking?'

  'I'm thinking of us,' screamed Milly. 'I don't care about the rest. I want us to be happy. To be together. I want to be queen.'

  Nathaniel stared at the young woman for a while. And then his expression changed. His face hardened and any light of love or affection that may have been visible in his eyes was snuffed out.

  'There is no, 'us,' Milly.' He said. 'There is only you and me.'

  The marine let go of her hand and walked towards the door, stopping and turning to face her one last time before he left.

  'Goodbye, Milly,' he said. 'Whatever I did, or didn't do, that turned you into…this…I apologize. Truly I do.'

  The marine walked back along the corridor and down the steps. Moving briskly but not running so as not to attract any unwanted attention.

  Milly stood still for a while. She felt as though she had been gut shot. She had worked it all out. Nathaniel was meant to stay. Together they would be the king and queen of the humans. Feted and lauded over all. Treated by the Fair-Folk as almost-equals. No more living in fear. No more planning for war. No more constant life and death decisions.

  But Nathaniel had rejected her again. And this time it had been worse than all of the other times. This time he had looked on her with an expression that could be described as nothing other than disgust.

  Well never again.

  She picked up her skirts and ran hard, tripling down the staircase and out into the yard. At full speed she ran around the base of the tower and headed to the training square where she knew that Orc sergeant Kob spent most of every day sparring.

  And, sure enough, there he was.

  She ran straight up to him.

  'What are you doing out?' He asked. His tone more curious than threatening.

  'He is here,' she said. Her voice a sharp whisper, as if imparting information too important or simply too incendiary for all to hear.

  'Who?'

  'Him. The
Forever Man.'

  She waited, expecting questions. Denials. A need for proof. But Kob was unlike other Orcs and he simply looked at her for a few seconds while he assimilated the information.

  'When did he leave?'

  'Less than a minute ago. Not sure which way he went. Find him,' she continued. 'He is an enemy of the people. Bring him back to face retribution.'

  Kob did not answer. He simply sheathed his broadsword and strode off. Heading towards the gates.

  'Must I tell anyone else?' Shouted Milly after him.

  He turned to face her. 'No,' he shook his head. 'I will take care of it. Go back to your room immediately, before you get in to trouble.'

  And then he was gone.

  ***

  Sergeant Kob ran hard. He had not lied to the human Milly. He did not actually say that he would tell others about The Forever Man, he had simply said that he would take care of things. And he would. He was going to chase him down and bring him back for justice.

  Ever since he had first come across The Forever Man and had been beaten in single combat by him, he had become obsessed. No one else could even come close to defeating him but the thin skin had beaten him with relative ease. And then he had spared his life, swinging his battle axe at Kob's neck and then stopping as the blade touched the skin. An acknowledgement of his skill. Proof that he could have killed if he had wanted to.

  So Kob had trained relentlessly. Driving himself beyond what a normal mortal being normally would. Working his strength, his speed, his battle-consciousness. Now he finally had a chance for a rematch and he didn't want any other Orcs or goblins getting in the way.

  This time he would win. No one could stand against him. He was simply too fast, too strong and just too damn good at what he did.

  Chapter 36

  Nathaniel knew that he was being followed. He just wasn't sure what, or whom, the potential assailant was. It was nothing as overt as an actual sighting. It was more of a feeling. A sense of being followed. Every now and then he would stop and look behind him. Sometimes, in the distance, he would see the hint of a shadow that shouldn't be there. Or a shivering tree branch. Perhaps a tiny feather of condensation in the air.