by Tia Wilson
A figure was leaning against the bough with his hands resting on a shovel. He looked in her direction and she waved, then he began to wave.
I don't want to go any closer she thought. Her body kept moving forward no matter what she tried. Grace could feel the slow boil of dread bubbling inside her as she got closer. She tried to look away. She didn't want to see what the man was doing.
As she got closer the man waved at her again. He took off his black hat and gestured to her in a gentle come here motion. His face was blurred. I don't want to go she told herself.
The man bent and picked up something from the ground beside him. He held it up for Grace to see. It was a newborn infant and it wriggled as he held it up by one leg. The man did a half bow in Graces direction and then threw the baby in to the hole he was digging.
Grace screamed and then she was running. Her feet sank into the cracked mud and the harder she tried to move forward the less progress she made.
The man bent and picked up another baby and threw it into the pit. He turned his back to Grace and began shovelling dirt into the hole.
She broke free of the cloying mud and started to sprint. I have to stop him she thought. The tree beside the man burst into flames and then he to caught fire. He continued to work as the flames grew higher and started to move in a burning wall towards her. A wall of scorching heat hit Grace and threw her backwards off her feet. The flesh on her arms began to burn and blister and she opened her mouth to scream and intense heat flowed inside her.
Grace grabbed her chest and started to cough. She was awake and already sitting up in bed. The sheets kicked off onto the floor and her body covered in a cold sweat. She stayed that way afraid to sleep, until the first weak light of the morning started to fill the bedroom and the image of her burning body finally began to lose its power over her.
22
The Feral
The world was black. The world was soundless. There was only one over riding sense and that was smell. The creature, for that was how it thought of itself lay on its back and rested its cheek against the cold metal of the floor. Its skin burned, flaring up in painful patches causing the creature to shout out in pain. The sound only registered as a dull vibration in the creatures chest as its ear drums had been punctured sometime before. The creature knew in some unformed way that things had not always been this way. Was it going mad when it dreamt of walking on soft grass, the blades tickling its feet and hearing a child laughing in joy. The creature thought it was a cruel trick of its mind to think there was something before. There had always been the box. There had always been the pain. There had always been the relief and ecstasy of the nectar the doctor sometimes awarded the creature.
The creature reached up and ran its fingers across the smooth surface of the roof of the metal box it lived in. It knew every inch of the surface, had traced its fingers over every welded seam. The back right corner had a small sharp raised piece and the creature sometimes ran its finger across it until the finger tip bleed. A rush of sensation would fill the creatures body when it tasted its own blood, nothing compared to the nectar it waited to taste again. Without nectar the creature would of wished to be dead a long time ago. Now it waited in the dark ticking off time until its next dose and the world opening up like a star going super nova. The creature in the centre of that white hot light, expanding outwards and consuming all living life around it.
It felt a vibration in the floor of its cell. Someone was coming. Could it be time already. The creature had no way of telling how long it was between doses. It existed out of time and in a limbo of blackness until the time came to be called on again.
Slattery walked along the raised corrugated platform and checked the dials on each hatch as he passed. Each small chamber was temperature controlled to keep its inhabitants cool and docile. There were six hatches in total and each chamber behind them was close to twice the size of of the units used to store bodies in a morgue. Four of the units where occupied at the moment with some of the most successful candidates from the doctors latest experiments. Slattery checked the labels on each hatch as he passed, each door had a white sticker on the front with F1, F2, and on in sequence. Under the number was the name of the inhabitant. Slattery stopped outside the hatch that read F4 Zoe.
Slattery rapped his knuckle four times on the metal door and waited. All of the inhabitants had been trained to back away from the door when they felt the staccato rhythm of the taps on the hatch. Slattery stepped back, unholstered his side arm and checked it and then holstered it. The small touchpad lit up with a soft blue glow when he pressed his thumb on the glass surface. A red light blinked twice and the electromagnetic lock was released. Slattery swung the hatch open and peered into the darkness. In the gloom he could just about make out the huddled shape against the back wall. He tapped out an order on the floor and stepped back from the hatch and off to the side. He rested his hand on the gun at his waist ready if anything went wrong.
It was like a a pale spider extracting itself from a matchbox and Slattery involuntarily shivered, he always did when the feral’s left their metal tombs. Pale thin arms hooked out of the open hatch and pressed their palms against wall. Spindly legs flopped out and everything about the two set of limbs was angular and pointed. The thin arms trembled with effort as they pushed against the opening and the feral’s body slowly crept into view. The arms and legs twitched spasmodically and the person fell from the hatch and landed on all fours and looking in the direction of Slattery.
He knew the creature couldn’t see him. The first thing the doctor had done was remove their eyes when they were first brought to the lab. After that their vocal cords were snipped so that the feral’s could only communicate in whimpers and grunts. The final stage was puncturing the ear drums all with the goal of heightening the one sense they needed in a good tracker.
At one point the feral creature down on all four and sniffing the air in front of it had been a young woman in her late twenties. Where she came from and what her backstory was Slattery didn’t care to know. The creations that the doctor created in his lab were works of genius. New forms of life that never existed until the doctor and his team created them from the raw materials of flesh and blood.
Slattery stamped his foot on the metal floor and the feral turned and tilted its head in his direction. A few lank strands of dirty blonder hair hung down the side of the ferals pale white head. It wore a loose pair of grey shorts and a faded black t-shirt. Its feet were bare and the legs and arms where pale, blotchy and hairless. The creature had been living on one substance now for months and as the doctor had only said recently they were pushing into uncharted territory. The ferals skin had taken on a waxy quality with patches around the joints looking stiff and immobile.
The feral stalked forward on all four and sniffed Slattery's hand. The creature had been conditioned to obey certain scent signatures and Slattery was one of those imprinted from the beginning of the experiments. The doctor, his staff and Tulimak were the others that the feral was trained to recognise. The metal box it was kept in was kept cool and was fed with triple filtered air cutting out all errant scents. The feral was kept free as possible from distracting smells so that everything was heightened when it came time for her dose.
He stroked his hand across the pale skull and the feral rubbed her cheek against his hand. The flesh of the feral felt cold and clammy almost as if this pathetic creature before him was already dead. Slattery could feel his stomach churn as he looked at the creature rubbing against his hand and showing her appreciation for a small bit of kindness. I should put this creature down he thought as he glanced at the butt of his gun.
Slattery wiped his fingers on the leg of his trousers, his lips curled into a snarl of disgust. He turned and walked away from the creature and headed towards Tulimak's office. The feral sniffed the air and followed on all fours in a stiff limbed jerking motion as it swung its head from side to side sniffing the air.
23
Tom
Oishin looked at the darkened main street and said, “What’s next? The elders must have something planned if they had their best man rescue me,” she said and her tone of derision was not lost on Tom.
“Once I get you through the front door of Franklins store my duties end. You know how the clan has always operated, they only tell me what I need to know.”
“You haven’t changed at all. You’ll defend the integrity of the clan until the end, even when they treat you as nothing more than a blunt instrument they can deploy to keep their hands clean. If you only knew what the elders are really like I don't think you would be so happy to serve them,” Oishin said as the baby in her arms let out an anguished moan while it was deep asleep.
“Why don't you fill me in then,” Tom said as he swore to himself that he would not let her get to him this time.
“It’s best you get the veil ripped from your eyes through your own discoveries. It’s not up to me to educate you,” she said with an icy coolness.
“You talk about me not changing. You’re the same since I last saw you. There is nothing you seem to enjoy more then dismantling someones beliefs bit by bit. I could never believe a thing you say anymore Oishin. That time has passed,” Tom said and got out of the car. “Lets go,” he said and started walking into town.
I just want to rid myself of this woman and get back to Grace he thought as Oishin joined him by his side. Tom scanned the dark windows of the closed shops as they walked along main street. Nothing stirred in any of them as they got to Franklins store and Tom tapped gently on the door frame. In the back of the store a pale yellow light flickered on and elder Franklin stepped out from the back office. The light made his skin look sickly and left his eyes in deep shadows making them look like they had been burned out of his head leaving only hollows behind. When he saw who was at the door he beckoned for them to enter.
“You haven’t changed,” Oishin said as she passed by elder Franklin and entered the small back room.
Elder Silas rose and nodded as he stuck his hand out to Oishin. She looked at it and said, “You’ve been around humans too long, you’re even picking up their pointless mannerisms,” she said.
Silas withdrew his hand and said in a soft voice, “Good to see you after all this time.”
He’s pissed, Tom thought looking at Silas’s face which betrayed nothing.
Silas looked at Tom and said, “We have some bad news, events have sped up in your absence.”
Toms whole body froze as he looked at Silas, the whole room seemed to fall away as he concentrated on him and the words he was about to deliver. She is dead he thought feeling a heaviness in his chest.
“Grace is ok,” Elder Silas said and then filled in Tom about everything they knew about the mongrel kidnapping Grace and Anne.
Relief mixed with a growing anger filled Tom as he stayed standing with his hands clenched into fists by his side. “What do we do next?” he asked.
Elder Franklin began to take out his tobacco pouch and arrange it on the table in front of him. “We are still in the process of deciding our next step. Things have changed since Tulimak took power. I fear our peace time is coming to an end.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to your human,” Oishin said in a voice that contained barely any warmth.
“Where is she now?” Tom said ignoring Oishin.
“She is resting in the apartment above the diner. She has been through a lot,” elder Silas said.
“Can I see her now,” Tom asked.
“Leave it until the morning. You need your rest. Clear your head and she will be waiting for you tomorrow,” Elder Franklin said in a low voice.
“Yes sir,” Oishin said and shook her head.
Tom looked at her as if she was a stranger, the distance between them was now more than one of time. He couldn’t believe that at some time he had not only loved her but been in a deep dark hole of obsession that he never thought he could escape from.
Tom nodded his head feeling exhaustion starting to kick in. His body felt drained of all energy from the effects of the healing process.
“We can debrief in the morning. Get some rest,” Elder Silas said.
Tom turned to leave and as he opened the door to go Oishin said, “Be seeing you around.” She laughed a dry humourless sound that felt like someone was running fingernails through Toms brain. He didn’t respond and left her and her manipulative ways behind.
24
Tulimak
Tulimak popped the lid on the insulated box sitting on his desk. He extracted one of the five double walled reinforced glass tubes and held it up to the light. The light green liquid moved inside the tube with a thick oil like viscosity. This box contains enough bile to kill a hundred men, he thought as he tapped the black metallic cap of each tube. Tulimak knew that he had only began to scratch the surface of what bile could do. Even after a hundred years of illicit research he was discovering new and interesting effects on both humans and the unlucky shifters who came under his care.
He had seen humans drop dead within a second of a drop of bile administered to the tongue, others had taken days to die as they screamed in agony while their internal organs failed, or liquified or haemorrhaged. Tulimak had seen a sixteen year old girl break a mans arm twice her size and then punch chunks out of a solid concrete wall, all while seemingly oblivious to the pain as the bones in her hand shattered.
During the war when his access to subjects was at its easiest and his testing at its most prolific a young Polish man had survived his first dose of bile with little to no side effects. He complained of a dry throat during the night and was given some water. When the guards checked on him the following morning they found a mass of thick dark hair like strands in a tight web in the corner of the room. When they approached it the whole structure shook with the sound of a rattle snake about to lunge. At the centre of the tangled mat of strands the guards could see a pulsing fleshy centre.
Tulimak had two of his most expendable workers don protective gear and approach the tangled pulsing corner of the cell. As they approached the hissing sound increased, the men looked back in fear at Tulimak peering through the slit in the closed cell door. As they drew nearer a sound like wet cloth being ripped emanated from the centre of mass and a sharp smell of bleach filled the room. The men staggered back coughing and spluttering, never taking their eyes off the corner.
Steam rose from the mass of tangled hair as strands began to snap with a loud twang. The thick strands fell away revealing a throbbing fleshy blob in the corner of the cell. It glistened with a slimy sheen as the rough surface began to split and rivulets of dark liquid began to pour out of it. The fleshy blob began to deflate like a ballon as the noxious liquid poured out of it and pooled on the floor. Wisps of steam rose from the tar like fluid as it splashed on the concrete floor with an audible sizzle.
The men banged on the door begging to be let out, tears streaming from their red raw eyes. The corners of their mouths began to blister as they shouted in fear. Tulimak watched with cool interest until he felt a sting at the back of his throat and backed away.
The area had to be sealed off and two more men died from poisoning during the clean up operation. Tulimak became obsessed with recreating those results and the next time he vowed to let what ever was growing in the tangled mess time to mature. It never happened again and over time he lost interest in recreating it. His interests changed course and he started experimenting more on humans. It was all too easy to procure specimens. Sometimes all that was needed was the promise of a warm bed and a good meal to get people to go with his men. That was a lot of humans main wea
kness, the belief in the possibility of human kindness even when life had let you down. He had seen it again and again, even with those that had been discarded by society. If someone approached them with a warm smile even the destitute would let their defences down.
With a steady supply of subjects again, Tulimak concentrated his efforts on the effects of massive doses of shifter bile on the human form. Like any true artist Tulimak let his research lead him down any path it would take him. His experiments produced physical aberrations, mental breakdowns and the complete eradication of any kind of human traits. Some subjects reverted to near animal behaviour, the bile seemed to be a conduit to something buried in the humans subconscious.
The real breakthrough was when Tulimak discovered biles connection between human subject and the shifter the bile was extracted from. The humans seemed to form a link with the shifter whose bile they received. The onslaught of sensory information from shifter to human drove most of the subjects mad, some chewed off their tongues, others endlessly bashed their heads against cell walls until the link was broken. For most of the first batch of subjects whose doses had been large, death was the only way to break the link and finally bring quiet to their fevered minds.
Tulimak thought back to the day of one of his greatest triumphs. He had been dosing three males for weeks on daily bile administered by droplet on the tongue. All three men had started to lose a grip on reality. They paced their cells, talked to people that weren’t there and twisted and contorted their bodies in painful configurations and then held the one position for hours. Things had been progressing without yielding anything of interest. That was until one of the three men escaped. He had been faking his symptoms all along and the bile was not effecting him. He over powered a guard bringing him his morning meal and managed to get free of the compound. He was free and on the run for three full hours before anyone noticed his absence.
