by Tia Wilson
The man turned to the churned earth that he had just pulled himself out of and stuck his arm in up to his shoulder. His cheek was pressed into the dirt as he moved his arm around under the soil. His eyes were squeezed shut and he had a look of concentration as he dug beneath the earth. His eyes snapped open and he began to pull his arm out of the damp clay filled muck. When he pulled his arm out up to the elbow he sat up on his knees and stuck his hand in and pulled. He fell back sprawling as he pulled a second person free of the soil. He got up and freed them completely and dragged them away from the hole.
He wiped the face clean with a handful of moss and kissed the cheek of a woman in her mid thirties. Her eyes were closed and her jaw and cheek was twitching as she clacked her teeth together. She wore a long skirt with a flower print that at one time had been bright yellow and pink and was now a faded brown. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed in slow shallow breaths. The man watched her for another minute and gently stroked her face with his thumb.
He stood up and returned to the hole and stuck his arms into the disturbed soil again. He pulled out two more bodies and lay them beside the first. He cleaned their faces and kissed each of their cheeks as they lay still. He stood up and stretched the joints of his back and they cracked loudly in protest. He tried to button his open suit jacket and his fingers tore through the rotten fabric. He tilted his head back and sniffed the air. His heart quickened as the scent that had awoken him flooded his nostrils. He could feel warmth begin to spread to his stiff limbs as he headed in the direction of the scent.
4
Grace & Anne
Someone slapped Graces cheek and her head whipped back waking her from a shallow sleep. She tried to lift her arms and they were restrained with leather straps to the arms of the chair. She was facing the corner of a room the walls tiled in white. Her legs were also restrained and she tried to turn to see who had slapped her. Her restraints only allowed her a small field of view and she couldn’t see anyone. She could sense someone standing close behind her. Is he going to reach out and hit me again she wondered as she craned her neck to try and see. The room smelt of bleach and Grace could hear a low hum from something behind her. “Who’s there,” she said, “where am I?”
The person behind her took a step away from her. Grace tensed her body and waited for another blow to the head and none came. The last thing she remembered was lying tied up in the back of a truck with Anne, and the two disfigured guards who kept watch. The man behind her spun her chair around so that she was facing the centre of the room. Anne was lying unconscious on a metal table. Her legs were strapped down and she had a dark purple bruise above her eye. “What have you done to my friend?” Grace cried out. Let me out of this chair she said and strained against the cuffs and leg braces. It was no use and she sat there panting, her hair falling over her eyes.
The man who had been standing behind her stepped forward so she could see him. “Save your strength. You are going to need it,” he said. He wore a dark suit, had slicked back blonde hair and eyes that twinkled as he looked at Grace.
He’s enjoying my discomfort, the sadist, she thought to herself as she slowed her breathing to try and calm down. “Who are you?” she demanded surprising herself with the anger in her voice.
“My name is Slattery and we are going to have plenty of time to get to know each other,” he said and gave her a bow. “I’m charged with your well being while you are with us,” he said checking on something written in the notebook he was holding.
“Why don’t you start by opening my straps,” Grace said.
Slattery raised an eyebrow and laughed and said, “I like you already. You have guts. You are going to need it for whats ahead.” His eyes danced with glee at his last words spoken. He looks like a kid who wants to ruin a surprise but is afraid his parents will scold him Grace thought, looking at him with disgust.
“What have you done to my friend?” she said.
“Your friend is perfectly fine for now,” Slattery said in the same gleeful tone.
Grace looked around the tiled room, a drain was embedded in the floor under Annes table and a light on a retractable arm was directly above her bathing her unconscious body in yellow tinged light. A large double doorframe was in the opposite wall and thick fronds of opaque plastic hung down to the floor. As she looked at it the heavy plastic fronds separated as someone pushed through them.
Tulimak stood before her, his fingers hooked into his belt as he looked from Anne to Grace in her chair. He was wearing a black bespoke suit with the shirt open at the neck. His sandy blonde hair was tousled making him look like someone who was more at home on the beach than standing in a tiled back room with two hostages. He beamed at Grace and tilted back on his heels as he watched her. He licked his finger and held it up for a second and then said, “Feel that, its the winds of change.” He laughed and Slattery joined him, “You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve waited to meet you Grace,” he said walking towards her. He walked by Annes unconscious body without so much as a glance.
“I think there has been a mistake. You’ve got the wrong people. We were out for a walk and got nabbed. I think we got pulled into something that has nothing to do with us,” Grace said and she could feel herself close to babbling. There was something about this guy, he looked like one of a million of the type of surfer bros she had known in her college days. The type of guy with an easy going charm who never seemed to be ruffled about what was going on around him. This guy looked like that on the surface, even had some of the same mannerisms, but Grace could feel something dark and wriggling beneath the surface. Her chest felt like it was being squeezed the closer he got to her.
“We are all adults here. Lets not start off on the wrong foot. I know all about you and the shifter clan you are mixed up in. Unlucky for you that you picked the wrong side. Did they trick you with their whole peace and love seventies hippy vibe?” he said.
Grace looked at him as he watched her with a grin on his face she would like to see Tom tearing off with one clawed hand. “They never treated me like this. Those people have been nothing but good to me.”
Tulimak turned to Slattery and said, “Go get the Doctor.” Slattery nodded and left the tiled room. “I don't suppose they divulged any of their sordid past to you? Not much talk of the great schism from some of the crusty elders? No one mention anything to you about the purge or banishment of the army of five hundred?”
Grace looked at him with confusion and said, “I don't care about their history only how they treat people now.”
“Oh you will come to care, wait and you’ll see. Once you live through some of their atrocities I don't think you’ll be so willing to return to the soft cuddly arms of your teddy bear. What’s the trackers name, Tom is it?” Tulimak said.
“When Tom finds me he will,” Grace said and was cut off by Tulimak laughing.
“Find you? Don't make me laugh, you obviously don't know what has happened. We have plenty of time for you to find out. You and I will be spending a lot of quality time together,” he said, “I’m Tulimak by the way. Friends should be on first name basis.”
Grace could feel her chest tighten even more. Was this creep bluffing about Tom to try to scare the hell out of her, if so it was working. Hold it together she told her self as she felt tears begin to spring forth from her eyes. She could feel desperation well up from deep inside her, bubbling up from the earth ready to drown her. “What do you want from me?” Grace asked trying to stem the flow of tears.
“To be friends. To expose you to the lies and hypocrisy of the black bears. What is it they say? The truth will set you free. I think after you spend a little time with me you will see those wretched animals in a whole new light. Your cardboard cutout hero Tom has his own share of dark secrets he wouldn't want his new bit of skirt to see. Don't you worry Grace we will have the time to walk down the halls and see the sights together,” he said and walked away from Grace and towards Anne. His back was to Grace and she tried to move
her hands in her restraints. She could feel the soft skin in her inner wrists shred off as she tried to free her hand. The leather was stiff and immobile as she twisted and pulled against it, nothing was happening and then she felt a tiny movement. A small amount of give. It was a start.
Tulimak bent down to Anne and sniffed deeply along the length of her body. His shoulders were hunched as he smelled her and Grace thought that from behind he looked like a monster crouched over a damsel in distress. If only this was a fairytale Grace thought as she kept moving her wrist, the leather loosening in minute increments as she moved her arm. Tulimak turned back to Grace and for a second she thought that he knew straight away that her binds where loosening. She was sure he was going to walk right over and pull on them until they bit painfully into her skin again. He leaned against the metal table looking at Grace, the same easy going grin plastered on his face.
“Do you know anything about bile collecting?” he asked. Tulimak didn’t give Grace a chance to speak and continued. “You humans are a barbaric lot. You know this of course. I don’t think the planet had ever had a species that figures out the most cruel and unusual punishments for animals they deem below them. Well back in the mists of time some clever human came up with the idea that a certain digestive liquid made in a bears internal organs could cure all sorts of ailment. You can guess how this went for the poor bears. Forced into tiny cages, incisions made in their abdomens and a tube connected to the bile duct. This precious green fluid that some clever little hairy ape deemed as important was then drained right from the source until the bear keeled over. It’s a practise still done to this day. The stuff is worth its weight in gold. Put a few drops in a cup of tea and your aches and joint pains will disappear like magic. Miraculous stuff. You want to know what it really does?”
Grace nodded, as she watched him walk around the table. You keep on talking she thought as she moved her wrist every time he had his back to her. The leather was loosening in painfully small increments, but it was a start and it gave Grace hope to cling on to.
Tulimak stood at the end of the table and looked down at Anne who was still unconscious. “The funny thing about the bile that they extract in the most painful and ruinous way possible is it does absolutely nothing. It has zero medical benefits. They might as well boil tufts of the bears hair in water and drink that mixture. Humans love the complicated ritual surrounding something like bile extraction. There is no romance to snipping off some hair and using that in a tincture. No bile duct extraction, that has all the ingredients of the human spirit. You get to dominate a creature that you see as inferior, the human gets to cage it and extract the very essence from its body, and finally you get to watch it die at your hands. Rinse and repeat. Human innovation at its finest.” Tulimak turned as the plastic fronded doorway was pushed open and two more men walked in. The first was Slattery and he was followed by a tanned man in his fifties. “Perfect timing gentleman,” Tulimak said turning to great them. “This here is Doctor Clancy and he will be performing todays procedure.”
Slattery stood in the opposite corner of the room with his notebook out and he was jotting down notes. The Doctor approached Grace and his tanned face cracked like wood as he smiled down at her. His teeth were as white as the tiles in the room and Grace had to stop herself from coughing from the strong scent of too much cologne.
“Do you have any persisting heart conditions?” Doctor Clancy asked Grace.
Grace felt a chill run along her spine, what the hell was this mad man going to do to her she thought as she felt her skin crawl under his gaze. “Why?” Grace said.
“The procedure can be tough on even the strongest of men. Its good to know these things ahead of time,” The Doctor said and turned and walked over to the table. He put his leather bag down on the floor close to the drain and whispered something in Tulimak's ear.
“What are you sick bastards going to do,” Grace shouted at the two men. She strained at her straps, arching her back again and again as she thrashed about. Her head slumped on her chest as she sucked in lungfuls of air. Even if I broke free I don’t think I could run more than a few steps before I collapsed she thought as her throat burned.
“Don’t wear yourself out you have a long day ahead of you,” Tulimak said. He cracked his knuckles and walked back over to Grace. The Doctor opened his bag and started to take out medical implements and place them on the metal table. Tulimak looked down at Graces sweat stained face and said, “I think the doctor is about to begin. If you try to look away from the Doctor while he is working I will have young Slattery over there cut off one of your fingers, maybe this one”, he said tapping her on the index finger of her right hand. “If you continue to look away, he will,” he paused and looked over at Slattery and said, “what would you take next?”
“An ear,” Slattery said without even looking up from his notebook.
“You can see how this goes. It’s in your best interests to enjoy the show,” Tulimak said and then stood beside her so as not to block her view from the horror show about to unfold.
5
Nathaniel
The man stood at the edge of the forest and looked at the house across the perfectly manicured lawn. Two bikes lay in the middle of the grass on their sides. The house was a large structure of wood with big windows that looked out onto the forest. The lawn was divided by a small stream which ran the length of the garden and past the house. On the opposite side of the stream was an identical cabin style house. If the bikes weren’t lying in the grass of the house straight ahead the houses would have looked like near perfect mirror images of each other. Movement at a large top floor window caught his eye. A young boy was gesticulating wildly while an older woman bent and listened to him. She had her hand on his shoulder and looked like she was trying to calm the boy down.
The man heard a noise in the forest and he moved back a few steps and lowered to a crouch. A young boy came running jogging out of the woods behind the opposite house. He stopped as he was half way across his lawn when he spotted the woman and boy standing by the window of his neighbours house. The young boy turned and ran and built up some speed. When he hit the edge of the stream he leapt effortlessly across the gap and ran to the back door of the other house. He opened the door and the man could see him climbing the stairs and heading towards the other people. The two boys hugged and then began pointing back at the wood and talking at a rapid pace. The man could see the woman glance repeatedly in the direction of the tree line. The three of them ran downstairs and the woman picked up a phone and dialled it while talking to the boys.
The watching man turned back into the forest and headed back to his people. Men will come soon he thought to himself as he moved swiftly making very little sound. We have to run and hide until we are stronger. As he walked back he tried to get the scent out of his mind, it had pulled him from his slumber, breaking through the thick veil of hibernation and yanking him awake before he was ready. It was a high spice smell of cinnamon mixed with a hint of pepper, the kind of aroma that tickled your nose when you breathed it in, you couldn't help yourself from going back for another sniff. Images of his childhood flowed by the scent transporting him to a time when his family lived the life of the wanderer. In those days they never seemed to stay in a place for too long, his father with his brusque ways would sometimes facilitate them having to leave under a sky pinpricked with stars. Other times when his eyes burned with tears because he didn't want to leave again his mother would shower kisses on him and tell him that they had to go because of the settled folk. Sometimes the settled people seemed to grow weary of his family in some undefined way and again they would set out, usually at night and move to a new place. The cycle continued all through his life and when it came his turn to build a family he found himself falling back into the old habits that had been scored deep into his being from a young age. Keep moving and trust no one who wasn’t family.
When the man was eight years old his father got into a fight in a bar close to the
dock in the town of Hull, England. The man remembered waking up in their one bedroom shack when his father burst into the place and slammed the thin door of reclaimed wood shut behind him. This was two years after his sister had died and the boy had become a sensitive tuning fork to both his parents moods. For those two years they had moved the most and seemed to stay in any one place for no more than a few weeks, while the boys father took any odd jobs available. During this time his father seemed like a lump of hardened clay animated badly to impersonate his father. The boy would become scared when his father had drank too much and he would look at his son with a dark malevolence in his eyes. Maybe I should of been the one to die the boy sometimes wondered as he listened to his father snore from the other end of the bed.
His mother had tried to get his father to sit down when he burst in. He was holding one of his hands balled up in the other and in the only candle light in the shack the boy could see fat drops of blood splashing onto the legs of his fathers rough spun trousers. His mother grabbed a cloth from the shelf where they stored a tin of lard and a tin of flour. “Your bleeding,” his mother said wrapping the cloth around his knuckles.
“The father rubbed the cloth across his knuckles and said ,”Its not mine. I think I broke them.” He looked over at the boy lying on the bed with his eyes half closed and said, “I know your awake, stop pretending boy.”
The boy sat up and looked smaller than usual with the thin cotton sheet draped over his shoulders. “Do we have to move again,” he said in his thin reedy voice.
