I was willing to do things on Temperance Day with Forest watching that the people had never dreamed of watching me do. I locked myself in crates and broke free, buried myself in liquid rock and escaped, locked myself in an iron maiden and let my blood run into the sandy arena floor. I did it because of his curiosity, because unlike the others he could read my mind and I wanted to challenge him. He had a way of living inside my head and then bringing me things from my childhood that I missed, like ice cream. He once created something that was close, but not as creamy. I loved him and hated him because it reminded me again of where I was and what happened to me, something I wanted to forget. Forest was fascinated with me, and because of that I went straight to the macabre. During those Temperance Days he lived in pain, seeing what I saw, feeling what I didn’t feel. I put him through a lot, and he didn’t waver, not once. He still loved me until the day he died.
“Is it fireproof?” I asked, trying to stay off the topic of Forest.
Hattie nodded and took my clammy pinkish hand. “Only the best for Fable,” she whispered, leading me back towards the tunnels. It didn’t take long to wind through the opulent corridors and step into the pit. The pit was an atrium underneath the arena. Above me were thousands of stomping feet and clapping hands. They were so loud they made the ground vibrate. I clenched my small fist, looking at the triangle of black fabric that stretched across it to my middle finger where it tapered off, looping around my finger like a ring.
I peered through the grates in front of me, but the arena was nothing but a sandy spot of white in the blistering afternoon sun. The show was about to begin. Hattie squeezed my shoulders and I smelled her perfume as she leaned into my ear. “Be a good girl and die Fable,” she said.
I squared my shoulders and resisted the urge to elbow her in the stomach, swivel and grab her head, snap her neck. Five seconds, it would take me five seconds to kill her.
I watched as the ancestors of the eight founding families trickled into the center of the arena from another entrance. They were the only ones dressed in regal military uniforms, all brass buttons and tassels and stripes. They each wore crew-style hats and polyester slacks. They formed a line and began the salutes to the people piled in the stands. Colin Cray was among them, in his finest, and against my will my mouth watered. I didn’t like any of the ancestors of the founding families, not even the man that was supposed to be my great-to-the-power-of-infifty grandson. That was Rab Ketterling. He was seventy-two and he had a fourteen year old son, my latest grandson, Milo Ketterling. Milo was sitting in the stands along with the rest of the Ketterlings, the Crays, the Chungs and the others. They were all waiting for me, their everlasting symbol of hope, to step into the arena.
It wasn’t time yet.
“Welcome!” Colin Cray boomed once the salutes were over. I gritted my teeth, awaiting the rest of the speech I had heard thirteen-hundred-and-five times over. The speech I could recite by heart. He broke away from the line of other founders with his hands spread wide, palms facing the crowd. “For centuries we have preserved the human race in Temperance. For centuries we have remained a peaceful civilization, never giving in to the wars that brought us here. For centuries we have tried, tested and hoped that the waters would give us everlasting life. Here, on this thirteen-hundredth-and-fifth annual Temperance Day, we celebrate the day we found the Fountain of Youth.” He paused as the crowd erupted into insane cheers, the clapping and stomping reaching a roaring pitch.
I wrung my hands out, shifted back and forth on my stilettos and shook out my wavy orange-red hair. I looked up only to find Colin’s eyes boring into my mine. He was supposed to be looking at the crowd, but he was looking at me.
“On this day, thirteen-hundred-and-five years ago, we drank from the Fountain of Youth. We drank, but it didn’t spare all our lives.” He tore his gaze away from me and began speaking to the crowd, his face tilted towards the sun, absorbing the deadly rays of ultraviolet light.
“The Fountain spared only one. One who is immortal, one who is impervious to death, and one who has existed long before even our ancestors had existed.”
I drummed my fingers on the pin striped fabric, waiting for the gates to open, trying to find some clues about what the plan was for this year, what their big spectacle would be.
“Fable,” Colin said, the crowd erupting into applause. He put his hands up and it died down immediately. “And we know Fable’s story. She was in the diamond mines when the nuclear bombs hit. She was spared from the radiation that runs through the veins of each and every one of us. Radiation that we thought would wear off after generations. Unfortunately,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “the Fountain of Youth still has no affect.”
There was a roar throughout the crowds as Colin Cray shattered their hope for the thirteen-hundredth-and-fifth time. I cringed at the angry stomps and booing.
“And so without further adieu I give you our symbol, Fable the Immortal!” Colin shouted, his arm outstretched towards me. The kinks in the grate began clicking as it slid out of the way. He smiled at me and I smiled at him. I boldly walked out into the arena, the sun hitting my face with a burning heat that no longer bothered me or caused an ounce of perspiration to bead on my forehead. The people in the stands were drenched in it, hawkers running between the stands with drums of water to fill their canteens. I put my hand in his and he raised it up, turning me around so that everyone could get a good look at me.
“May today be the day she dies!” The crowds erupt in pandemonium. I smiled and waved to the crowd as they roared at me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other seven families turn and march out of the arena to safety. Rab Ketterling gave me a pitying look of reproach as he followed the others. Colin dropped my hand, and I expected the usual sinister Cray eyes, but when he looked at me they were filled with warmth and terror. A kind of terror I hadn’t seen since Forest. He lingered some, his fingers still pressed into mine as he turned and went to walk away, my hand following his until he finally let go, snapping off like an elastic band. I frowned, wondering what he really thought of me as I geared up for what was next.
There was silence in the arena, a hush falling over the crowd as I waited, and then I heard the zip of an F-16 overhead followed by the bombs hitting the arena. They weren’t like the nuclear bombs; these ones were child’s play compared to the ones that had destroyed the Earth. I pushed my feet into the ground as the fire washed over me. I felt nothing but the wind from the rushing flame brushing my hair aside; it too was flame-resistant, unlike other girls my age I had to deal with scorch marks instead of split ends.
There were three rounds of bombs, and the crowd cheered them on, hoping that I’d fall, hoping that somehow the Fountain’s magic had worn off.
When they were finished, men in full biohazard suits moved into the arena from invisible doors. They pelted me with flame throwers. I stood still until the four of them surrounded me and the fire engulfed me, but it had no effect.
They turned after a good five minutes of pure flames and slunk into the shadows. I waited, knowing there was more. There were contraptions for torture, iron maidens, stretchers, knives, locked boxes, water chambers, chainsaws, animal traps, jet engines, and a million other things they could have brought out.
Instead they brought out a firing squad. Six guys with Tommy rifles, and I thought they weren’t going to make this stereotypical. They lined up against the wall and I sighed, turning and putting my hands in the air. I clasped my hands behind my head as they began shooting. My body shook at the force of the bullets. I let them have at it, turning my body into swiss cheese until I pitched forward. This was the part where I pretended to die. The buzz of the guns ceased, and the crowd got quiet. They always did. I waited, feeling my body regenerate. Organs that were barely recognizable filled out, skin restitched itself, stretching over the holes.
I lay there for a moment until I was attacked from behind by one brought back from the dead, a zombie. I turned swiftly, grabbed its snapping hea
d and twisted it, and heard the crack in its neck. It fell on top of me as I scrambled to my feet and noticed more of them heading in from underneath the arena. I waited, and each one of them with their sagging skin approached me, and met their death quickly.
I stopped thinking about them as I parried and knocked one in the chest with my fist. It staggered backwards and then slid into the sand, skin at its ankles melting into the ground. I couldn’t stand these filthy creatures. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as two them flanked me, the stench of death wafting into my nostrils. I ducked and swung my legs out forcing them to topple over onto each other. Just as I got free there was something on my back. I felt squishy bare feet press into the polyester at my back and the disgusting thing grabbed my hair. I shuddered thinking about the greasy strings of skin that I’d have to pick out later and swiveled knocking it onto its back. I stood and before any of other others could approach me I dug my heel into its neck. Thick crimson blood spilled from the wound as I dusted my hands off and turned to face the rest with my hands on my hips.
I glared at the group of them forming, at least ten of them sauntering towards me with that deft low moan. At least they weren’t reaching for me with lazy spaghetti arms, I probably would have laughed. Instead I wondered who lucked out this year and won the testing lottery. It’s not like Temperance doesn’t have volunteers, but the ones signing up for the dangerous stuff, these were the ones who met their deaths by my hands.
I clenched my fists and bent into a warrior position. The crowd above me cheered. Instead of waiting for them to meet me I went at them. I let the rotting flesh surround me as I snapped necks, broke arms and wrote lines across their chests with my razor sharp stilettos. Hattie was nothing if not creative.
They were dead in seconds. One thing I granted the zombies was a quick death, prolonging it only made the urge to vomit stronger.
Nobody could see me as a weakling.
I walked around them in a slow circle as the crowd pounded their feet against the wooden stands, causing my entire body to vibrate. I waited while the men in the biohazard suits filed in and cleared the arena.
There was the faintest sound of the click of a switch and the arena turned into an obstacle course. I was like a rat in a maze. I jumped up steps, swung on trapezes, stood on rolling balls, and sailed through flaming hoops.
I didn’t break a sweat.
The crowd was so entertained they were on their feet watching me dodge the moving panels. I rolled onto my back and kicked a tiger in the ribs. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth, fur sagging to the side and eyes giving me that deranged craziness. Great, bring on the zombie animals. I wasn’t some animal activist in 2020CE, but I wasn’t fond of killing things that had no brains to begin with. And these weren’t your garden variety zombies either. The tiger had a fierce bite when it got the advantage and clamped onto my arm. Blood and saliva oozed down my arm as I scrabbled for my stilettos and slid them off my feet. I used the heel like a spike and stuck it into the tiger’s skull. It wasn’t even expecting it, and the worst, the blank look as its teeth unhooked my arm and it fell into the pit beside me. I strapped my stiletto back on, loosely, and hobbled through the maze. There was a lemur around the corner, its tail curling around my unscathed arm as I forced it to the ground and heard the soft snap as it hit the sand, dead. Tigers, lions, rattlesnakes, you name it, they had retrieved it from the old world and brought it to Temperance. They did experiments on these creatures and eventually their brains turned to soup, their instincts pushed to the limit.
Nothing would ever cure the radiation.
I didn’t have the heart to tell them to stop trying.
There was a raptor around another wall, and we had some space to throw down. I stopped, circling it while it circled me, its blue scales shimmering in the fading sunlight. I growled at it and it came for me, its tiny feet pattering on the ground. I jumped out of the way and then swung around kicking it hard in the back. It landed face first and I jumped on it, shoving its teeth into the sand. I grabbed its head and hauled it up long enough to see the bloodshot eyes and the bloodlust. The scales were mushy and slippery in my hands. I made quick work of snapping its neck and stood up. I doubled over, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. A second later I stood up only to get blinded momentarily by the sun.
That’s when the bear’s arms circled me and began crushing my chest. It lifted me off the ground and I lost the loose stiletto as it whirled me upside down and landed on its back with me still locked in its iron grip. I struggled against its impossible weight and tried kicking it in the gut with my other stiletto. It was no use. All I could see was the sun bearing down on me, the clear blue sky and the edges of the stands. The bear growled in my ear and teeth grazed along my lobe, but it didn’t bite down.
I didn’t panic. I let my body go slack and the moment I was as fluid as the bear’s drooping fur, I slipped through its arms and crab-crawled across the sand. It was down for the count, something told me it hadn’t meant to lift me up like that, that it had tripped on something, a stray raptor scale.
I smirked and crossed my arms, watching the bear struggle to its feet the way a beetle does when it’s on its back.
After a few moments of indulging the bear, the arena began shifting again, shifting and changing, closing compartments, erasing them from memory so that it was just a blank patch of sand, me and the bear.
I didn’t kill it.
I turned and walked away from it and waited for the men in the biohazard suits to drag it away. There wasn’t honor in killing something so helpless.
The men in biohazards came for it, and hauled it up by the shoulders. They had it almost out of its precarious position when it got vicious and lunged at me, covering me with its thick body. It smelled like crusted honey and bloody raspberries. I choked back the urge the throw up and struggled under its weight. If zombie bears could laugh, this one was laughing at me.
It was taking too long, I was stuck and this thing was doing nothing but trying to suffocate me. Elementary mistake, I don’t die. I elbowed stray fur out of my way and tried to roll over. The zombie bear’s skin was aching to slide right off, and the way it moved around me as I tried to get free was revolting.
I finally managed to get my head out and as I rolled over I saw the stiletto that had fallen. I grappled for it, reaching as far as I could with my fingers and pushed it out of my way. I bucked against the bear’s giant body and slithered out another inch. I grabbed the stiletto and pierced its shoulder, hoping to cause enough pain to make it move.
It didn’t.
I gritted my teeth and let the anger wash through me. I pounded at its face with the razor sharp stiletto tearing skin and muscle, not caring anymore that it was covering me, slopping onto my arms and staining the costume with brain matter. There wasn’t a killing blow so much as a flop. I kept going even though it had died and was still covering me.
The sun was setting by the time the ordeal was done. I was lying on my back in the middle of the bare arena, taking deep breaths. My costume was torn in a lot of places, but not enough to show the type of skin the parents didn’t like. My stilettos had blood on them, and my hair had goop in it. I was a wreck, but I wasn’t near dead.
Colin Cray came into my peripheral vision, his face hovering over mine. This was usually the part where he told me the show was over. This was the part where he announced to the crowd that Fable the Immortal was truly immortal and that nothing would ever destroy their symbol, their icon, their hero. I waited for him to grab my hand and pull me to my feet . . . but he didn’t. Instead, he paced around me in a slow circle, sizing me up. This wasn’t anything Hattie had warned me about before. I hated Colin Cray because he was really trying to kill me. That bit about dying, it was a bit; nobody in Temperance really wanted me dead. They wanted to test my immortality, prove it was strong. Prove it was forever.
I wouldn’t be immortal if I didn’t live forever.
I sat up and sta
red at Colin, wondering what he was doing, and then he stopped and crouched down to my level so our faces were inches apart. “I have one more thing if you’re up for it.” His eyes were warm but his tone was mocking and harsh.
I nodded and one of the guys in a one-piece came over carrying a metal cylinder. Colin wrapped my hand around it, but didn’t unscrew the hard plastic top.
“What is it?” I asked.
Colin shrugged. “Technically it’s orange juice.”
I knew way too much about radiation to be fooled by orange juice. Especially since oranges were artificially grown and used in the labs as part of a process they were trying to perfect to treat the radiation poisoning. If he couldn’t kill me, poison me, make me like everyone else. Or worse, make me like one of those zombie animals. I stared at the cylinder, wondering if I would age normally, if I would live out the rest of my life and cease to amaze the public. I stood up, and realized the crowd was silent. Colin wasn’t even telling them what this was, and they were all thinking it was the final act. I might drink it and blow up from the inside, and then draw the pieces of myself back into the form I had always carried. My matter worked like that. They had tried something a couple hundred years back where they stuck my hand in a meat grinder, and everyone saw the mushy pieces fall out of the other side, but when they lifted my arm out of the machine, my hand was perfectly intact.
I looked up at the crowds, at the faces of the eager youngsters and the aging hopefuls. I turned and turned and finally I shook my head and put the cylinder down.
City of Cruelty and Copper (Temperance Era) Page 2
