“Die,” the man yelled, followed by a rapid succession of gunfire - BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM!
Someone in our crowd yelled out, “Stop! Put down your weapon Amos, you’re going to get yourself killed!”
Amos heard, but fired a couple more shots. “Or die trying,” he yelled back. The sudden breakdown of logic shifted my mind sideways. How did Amos have a working gun? I backed up, feeling the crowd beside and behind me. I was glad that I hadn’t allowed myself to be swallowed by the group, as I would have certainly lost my faculties to claustrophobia.
The Belovore stopped just short of the driveway. Amos stood on the other side. The Belovore took a second and then trundled forward, scowling. Amos sent off more rounds. I wondered how bad of a shot Amos had to be to be missing from such a short length.
BLAMBLAM, “Why won’t you die?”
A guttural chuckle – at least, I think that’s what it was – erupted from Chest-Plate. Vertebrae grunted and started pushing people in the crowd away from the scene. A couple people shoved into me, and Kayt almost fell over. I held her by the arm. The old-man tumbled, and his girl tried to pick him up, but got lost in the massive, neighborhood sized crowd. Kayt, Annalise and I watched in horror as Amos continued to fire.
“The bullets are hitting him,” Kayt whispered.
“Damned fool,” yelled the old man. Other voices mumbled and grumbled behind him, and I felt a warm body press up against my back. “He’s rigged up a Frankenstein gun!”
Behind that, the old man was lost in the crowd. The last thing I heard him mutter was, “Never should have taught him…”
I had no idea what the true term meant – especially coming from a man who owned a gun shop. However, my knowledge of literature told me enough. The gun was silver along the barrel, but deep black on the handle and hammer. The shots sounded hollow and rattled as Amos re-cocked the chamber. I don’t know much about guns, but I was certain Amos’ hasty creation wouldn’t last much longer.
Kayt took her Lord’s name in vain, something Davion would have quickly condemned her for. I would have done the same if my brain hadn’t insisted on proving what she’d said. I squinted, hoping it would improve my sight. As the crowd pushed, I stepped out from the edge of the group. Amos fired and fired again. The Belovore walked slowly; a cruel thought occurred – the Belovore was baiting Amos. When Amos stopped to reload, his hands shook as he fumbled an energy pack out of his pocket and thumbed it into the chamber set in the handle of the gun. The energy chamber locked. He fired – the Belovore twitched. They were close enough so that I could see why. Small chips on the Belovore’s plates glistened in the sun, making dents no larger than the cusp of a fingernail. Amos had hit him maybe a dozen times: eight or nine in the chest, two in the face, and one in the neck. It all resulted in the same thing.
My mind went elsewhere in that second of realization.
I saw the Belovore from outside the tree farm, and the sudden plummet of the boulder onto its skull. I tried to look closely – to remember it cleanly – but the truth is that I couldn’t remember what I hadn’t seen. Chest rising and falling, maybe the guttural moan of dialect; my mind tried to remember anything that would tell me we hadn’t horribly maimed the creature and left it there. If the Belovore could survive Amos’ onslaught, then what did Davion do to the one outside the tree-farm? Was it still alive, even with his spine cracked and head busted open? Surely, if Davion knew that it was a Belovore, he would have known if it was dead. He must have. We would have seen a sign. Right? We were too eager to leave.
But then, why was I caring about something that had helped annihilate an entire city?
BLAM – CRACK.
Amos hit the Belovore’s right chelimb, and the Belovore staggered. The limb cracked off just like Melanie had done with the other one. Vertebrae growled and started towards Amos. A person in our group yelled. Third found the man and snapped his neck before he could finish warning Amos. The rest of us stayed quiet. I’ve never seen that many people be so wordlessly loud in my entire life. The amount of ambient noise increased with the tension, and rang in my ears as if every sensitivity in my body had sprung to life.
Chip after chip, bullet after bullet, Amos aimed at the Belovore’s remaining chelimb. He managed to sever the rest of the injured chelimb, but didn’t come near hitting the second one. But Vertebrae reached him just as quickly as they’d broken down the door to Bruce’s house and captured Annalise and I. For giant, hulking creatures, they moved quickly.
Vertebrae stayed true to the nickname I’d given and snapped Amos’ spine by shoving a claw into Amos’ back. The crunch was almost as loud as the gun’s crack. Amos’ legs and arms seized. The gun fell to the ground and misfired twice as it came to a rest. Vertebrae dropped Amos. From that distance, I could see Amos’s chest lumbering, grabbing at any air it could hold. Blood trickled down from his lips. We all expected to die because of Amos’ actions, and the crowd shifted behind me once more. The shuffling sounded like gravel being swept across the road. The weeping dulled in my ears to a low thrum; the mutterings of angry neighbours had turned into uninspired threats balancing on the wind, and were gone just as quickly.
Vertebrae muttered something we felt in the pits of our stomachs. He picked up Amos’ makeshift weapon and tossed it towards the house. After a moment, Vertebrae ordered the fourth Belovore away. With them standing close together, I could see their plate colours offsetting each other. Vertebrae was more red, and the lines where his plates met the skin were close to the same colour; the fourth Belovore was dark and crimson.
The fourth walked to the end of the street, towards their pods. Vertebrae returned to Chest-Plate, scowling at us the entire time. They spoke between themselves. Chest-Plate growled and looked at the group as well. They were talking about us. Vertebrae barked short, hoarse grunts. It was hard to imagine they were conveying everything in such coughs and sibilants – they looked at each other as if there was a deeper understanding. Chest-Plate placed a hand on Vertebrae’s chest and bowed. Vertebrae was silent. Whatever we’d witnessed, we all felt it was our death warrants being signed.
“You have witnessed the weakness of blood,” Chest-Plate said in fractured English. This was a term not meant for human language. His voice was back to having a stiff, Russian twinge to the words. “Keldorac is amongst the eldest and best of us. You will kneel and thank him for allowing you to see such a human characteristic.”
I’d soon learn that the colour determined strength and age. They grew stronger with colour. But, as a result, the chelimbs grew weaker - which was why Vertebrae had been able to use his to such strengths. Chest-Plate confirmed this.
“Kneel!”
The act began like a wave, starting from the outer rim of the circle until it reached the centre. Chest-Plate again spoke with Vertebrae in their native tongue. Vertebrae clacked his chelimbs together as he walked around us. We were no more than thirty, or so I’d thought, with two dead bodies within sight. Kayt and Annalise had managed to stick next to me, which wasn’t too hard since nobody else really wanted to be on the outer edge. This is the problem surrounding large groups. We all acted as one, and hoped we wouldn’t be treated individually if something were to happen. When the ritual began, though, nobody could doubt that we were all under the Belovore’s influence. Chest-Plate treaded around the other side of the circle, where the other two stood guard.
“What is taking them so long?” Annalise mumbled. Time had slowed way down, who knows how long had passed. To the others, there probably wasn’t enough time
Kayt interjected, “They’re probably still trying to find out how to get us out of this.”
“I’m not sorry,” Annalise said.
“She’s not accusing you,” I whispered, hoping to stop a disagreement before it began.
Annalise looked up to Chest-Plate, who ignored us. “Half of the plans ever concocted are stupid, the other half are made without rational thought,” Annalise said. “I don’t want to die here, so I’d rathe
r make one of those options work for us. I call it being obscenely adaptable.”
Chest-Plate came back around and we stopped. We bowed our heads in mock servitude. He watched us for a moment, and then continued circling the group. He and Vertebrae started chanting. Third continued to hold sentry near the end closer to Annalise’s home. He tilted his head to the side as if he could hear something. I focused intently on him, ready to stand and put Annalise’s method into practice if he called attention to Annalise’s garage.
I twitched when Third swivelled around and came towards the circle. He looked over us, which is what saved me from doing anything irrational. Chest-Plate urged us to stand. We did so in the same way we’d knelt – with fear making us keep the Belovores in sight at all times, and our hands flattened out in surrender. From the other side came a group of three more prisoners pushed forward by another Belovore. This one was coloured bright red -a young one. She didn’t have distinctly feminine features, but I knew for the first time that this was a Belovore of the opposite gender. I’ve been associating male and female roles to them, but there is nothing to say that they didn’t have three or four genders. Her under-skin was bright, and the chest plates were the same as the others. Around her legs were large indentations along the thigh. On her torso, just below the chelimbs, were holes that looked capable of fitting a size of smaller chelimb claws. They were the only things separating her from the males. From what I have been able to discern from scouring my memory, over half the Belovores acting in the field - instead of guarding prisoners - were female.
The prisoners were an older woman with a stout look on her face and bulging white eyes. She was followed by two girls – both her daughters. They couldn’t have been older then sixteen and seventeen.
Chest-Plate left us to greet the new Belovore, took charge of the prisoner, and ordered the female Belovore back into the field. The three new neighbours were forced to join our huddled mass. They saw Annalise instantly.
“You,” said the older woman. Her daughters grabbed on to her shirt as she skirted the circle to join our trio. The old woman walked as if the Belovores were a passing interest.
“Me,” replied Annalise.
“They walked in and killed my husband,” the woman said.
“I’m sorry, Abilene.”
The name struck me in the chest. This was the Abilene from the letter. A slight sense of disdain in the way she approach us affirmed this for me. She looked about right for the tone in her letter.
“They’ve been going house to house. Anyone who fights back is killed, and even the ones who don’t, someone is killed as an example,” she said. “We passed Gregor on the road. They cut his throat. I stopped counting the bodies after him.”
“I know, Abilene.”
“God isn’t here anymore, is he?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Annalise said, solemn.
Abilene covered her mouth with her hand. She took a moment and composed herself, swallowing her breath. The way she gulped made me think of the Blanc de Noirs back at the Abbey I could almost smell it, as it spiced the air with a certain aromatic twist. When Abilene started to cough, I realized I wasn’t remembering it through sensory memory. Abilene had drunken enough to taint her breath` – probably while the Belovores were going door to door. Her daughters were pulled into the crowd, slowly. Abilene took no notice, and the girls seemed fine with the sudden lack of personal space.
“Nothing we can do,” Abilene said.
A realization dawned. A mimicry of Daniel stood in front of me and taunted me. He stood just beside the Belovores, in between Vertebrae and Chest-Plate. ‘Of course you’re a prisoner now. What else would you be?’ he asked. I didn’t answer. Daniel muttered, ‘even if you did try something, you’d be slapped down faster than Amos. Wouldn’t even be worth calling an inconvenience.’
“Why are they bunching us together? Why haven’t they just killed us all?” I asked, hoping to remove the false Daniel from my mind. I made up my mind to do something. It may have just been another way of running from something – this time it was within myself – but I couldn’t sit by and do nothing anymore. Of course, this was not true aggression; it was fuelled by what Annalise had said earlier, fear, and denial of what faux-Daniel meant. That didn’t mean I couldn’t touch on some truth.
“Because they’re sadists?” Kayt said.
“We’ve been chatting like gossips while we’ve been here and they’ve done nothing. As long as we don’t show aggression, then we should be fine. We can convince the crowd to rally all at once, and fight back the Belovores. They can’t take us all at once. Especially if they think we’re just talking.”
“How do you propose we gather a bunch of terrified, defeated people who spent their entire lives in the suburbs and convince them to fight against something that can’t be shot?” Annalise asked. She had a glint in her eye. She wasn’t asking these questions to challenge me. She was prodding me on. Was this Daniel’s intention back on Earth?
She also knew Abilene was listening.
“Tell them how I killed one,” I said.
“You killed one?” Abilene made her way into the conversation.
Kayt turned and acknowledged Abilene. It was the kind of moment we’d needed – the one where every mind you’re surrounded by connects with yours. “Yeah. Smashed its head right open. Poor thing never saw Leon coming,” Kayt said.
Annalise leaned towards Kayt but sent her words to Abilene. “He did it without any concern for his own safety. It wasn’t hard, either. Just ran in headfirst and it was done. Leon just kept rolling right along.”
“What about the bullets? We saw Amos from the distance. Hardly believed it was him, but then again we always did recognize him as a troublemaker. Amos shot clear at him, and so did my husband when the Belovore broke in,” Abilene looked into the distance.
“Amos shot one bullet at a time, even though I doubt they were real bullets. Projectiles made from household items, I’d bet, since no bullet here would work in an unregistered weapon. He still did something to hurt it, Which shows we, as a group, can take them down like a thousand bullets all at once,” Annalise said. She looked around and spied Third, Vertebrae and Chest-Plate at separate parts around our circle. “We can do something. We just have to let everyone know, and then we can spread the word on what to do.”
Abilene frowned, and then attempted to change it into a smile.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said. A band of tears streaked the makeup on her eyes. The heat dried them instantly, and made it look like she’d applied long, lightning bolts of mascara. Abilene turned from us, casually surfing the crowd, starting with her daughters. I couldn’t tell if her actions were because she had hope, or if it was her attempt at saving them.
“A thousand bullets?” Kayt asked when Abilene was out of range.
“I was feeling it. Don’t make fun of me. Besides, it’s Abilene. She has a little notebook in her desk where she writes down peoples’ questions about her homeland – she was originally from the colony off Europa. Only, she never writes them down the way they were said; she writes them the way she heard them. That way she can make the person who asks the questions seem as vastly unintelligent as possible, and make herself seem the genius. I once asked her if she spent time at the beach, and she wrote down in her book that I’d asked ‘isn’t Europa one large beach?’”
I held back a laugh. It struck me that I’d just allowed Annalise to take charge of what I’d been attempting to do from the beginning.
“Whatever we said to her just now, she’s going to change to make herself look better. Most people trust her. Anything she gives them will be treated like it’s gold.”
“This could work,” I said. “We just have to have a plan by the time she comes back to us. And hope everyone is in on it.”
“Are you sure about that?” Annalise asked.
“Call it obscenely optimistic. Let’s just hope the car is ready before we all get pieces of our spine removed.”
“Lise, Leon – look,” Kayt tapped us on the shoulder, and instead of pointing, she nodded towards Annalise’s house. Lancaster stood on the porch. He watched us all, his gaze darting between the front door as he pulled it slowly closed, and the Belovores circling us.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I muttered; however, Lancaster had already begun his approach.
Lancaster had his plan. I was certain neither Davion nor Melanie knew about it. He stumbled out of the porch and towards our group. He crossed over the yard and into the neighbour’s before Vertebrae saw him; Lancaster then alerted the other Belovore by waving his arms. All eyes were instantly drawn to him. Kayt chittered and grabbed my elbow, stabbing me with nails that must have been chewed on recently. Annalise tried to move forward, to make eye contact with him, but failed. Lancaster advanced on the Belovores. Chest-Plate turned to face him, sucked in a breath, and held it. The act pushed out his plates and made him resemble a bear deciding how to maul its prey.
“Don’t be aggressive,” I whispered. Lancaster couldn’t hear me, but I had no illusions about that. It was more for myself than him. Neither Annalise nor I saw him as the boy Kayt described.
To us, he was a boy striding towards three monsters holding dominion over a large group of terrified people. It was courageous, even though his intention might have been in the wrong place. Third watched from a spot behind our crowd as Chest-Plate and Vertebrae took the lead. Third huffed, deep and throaty in his chest. It sounded like a dog coughing something up. Chest-Plate swivelled around and spat out something even hoarser, to which Third and Vertebrae both responded. Vertebrae joined Third on the other side of the circle. They both stood still and rigid. Chest-Plate smiled. The appearance of his whitened teeth made me shiver.
“Belovore,” Lancaster began. “I have a deal for you.”
Lancaster made no aggressive moves. He stopped just a few feet short of arm’s length of the hulking beast. His legs shook, and whenever he tried to look our way, his pupils jumped and twitched. Sweat coursed down his cheeks.
Sondranos: The Narrative of Leon Bishop Page 13
