Enkidu roared again and yanked Gilgamesh forward to pick him up. That pain was the last thing Gilgamesh sensed before he passed out.
Part 4
A Dance of Hearts and Minds, with Knives
"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail,
"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail!
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance:
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?"
– Lewis Carroll
Chapter 12
An Arm is perfectly capable of carrying a grudge forever. Arms do not live ‘for the moment’ – everything they are is a product of everything they have been before, and everything that has happened to them before.
“The Book of Arms”
Gilgamesh: August 21, 1967
Gilgamesh awoke to the sound of two low voices, chanting. He moaned, overcome by a craving for dross, an overpowering craving, the worst he could remember. The memories came flooding back to him: warnings of danger, Crows fleeing, the frantic race across town with Enkidu on his tail. He panicked and tried to run, but he couldn’t even move. More panic.
He hurt. He felt like he had been beaten to a pulp.
He couldn’t remember the end of the chase. Gilgamesh let the panic run through him until, panic exhausted, he regained control. He slowly tried to open his eyes. Only one would open, and not easily, crusted over by blood.
Concrete floor, mere inches from his eye. Blood spackled the floor around him, dried, not fresh. His blood. The farther from him, the fewer spatters.
He metasensed two Crows and two Beast Men near him. Not too far away, perhaps a third of a mile, Tiamat fixed breakfast and the Skinner exercised in the Arms’ lair. The Beast Men’s lair was right on top of the Arms!
Across the Schuylkill River, Focus Hera and her guards walked slowly through downtown Philadelphia, on another patrol. The other two Crow captives were Wire and Tolstoy. Sinclair must have gotten away.
His worst pain was in his legs. They throbbed. He panicked even worse for a moment when he realized he couldn’t feel his feet. When he realized he couldn’t do anything about the lack of sensation, he calmed back down.
Gilgamesh figured from the hollow echoes he was in a large space. The room had a musty smell, as if the air hadn’t moved in a long time. When he placed himself by the position of the Skinner’s warehouse, he realized he was in a nearby abandoned warehouse. No one ever visited this place, and he doubted anyone would notice the Beasts’ presence. The warehouse ceiling was at least twenty feet over his head, the area around them large and open. To the left he picked out a metal fire-escape style stairway going up to a balcony or second floor. To the right there were four filthy narrow windows lined with metal gratings, and a door down a short set of stairs that likely descended to street level. Dust and old trash covered the floor. The Beast Men smelled like river water.
Across from him, the Beast Men finished their chanting. Enkidu reared back on his hind legs, immense with his animal bulk. Then Enkidu stretched, all seven feet and three hundred plus pounds of bone and muscle.
“Fuck,” Enkidu said, a deep bass rumble. Gilgamesh froze, surprised a beast like Enkidu could still speak. Enkidu wore nothing but his brown and white piebald fur. The fur was short and coarse, except on his animal head, under his armpits, and around his genitals, where it was longer and shaggy. A grossly oversized human penis hung from his crotch, an abomination. Enkidu’s atrocity of a face elongated into a short muzzle. Large canine teeth showed when he opened his mouth. His eyes, set wider than human eyes, looked sideways as well as forward. His arms reminded Gilgamesh of legs, and his hands were wide, with short fingers, almost like paws. Enkidu’s long vicious claws did not appear to retract.
The second Beast Man was more lizard than mammal, only slightly smaller than Enkidu. Smooth gray-green scaly skin covered him, from his unnatural wide mouth to his stubby tail. He too had lost most of his humanity, save for an absurd looking oversized penis hanging between his legs and the strange human-looking ears on his lizard face.
“Fuck,” Enkidu said again, still stretching upright.
Something in Enkidu’s hips shifted position, and then shifted again. Swearing and quoting from some nonsense Enkidu termed the Law, Enkidu slowly changed the shape of his midsection from quadruped animal to bipedal human. The speed of Enkidu’s change shocked Gilgamesh. He never imagined anything living could change itself so much, so quickly. Still, it took a half hour for Enkidu to finish his change, and when he finished, he hadn’t changed his size or his mass, just the architecture of his hips. He might walk like a man now, but he retained his claws, fur and his muzzle. He took a piece of old sheet and tied it around his waist, and then, a trick of the eye due to the clothes, he appeared almost civilized.
Terror filled Gilgamesh again and he had to shut his working eye. Enkidu was a werewolf! If you stripped off the fictional properties of ‘full moon’ and ‘near instant shape shifting’, what remained was what Enkidu had done, both horrific and awesome.
Gilgamesh blamed himself. Without his help, Enkidu would have died during his initial transformation.
“Your turn,” Enkidu said. Gilgamesh couldn’t force himself to open his eye to record whatever horror came next.
“It hurtssss,” the other Beast Man said, a whiny whispering hiss.
“Do it,” Enkidu said. “Follow the Law.”
Gilgamesh heard the other beast move away. “Fuck, Grendel, you can’t leave yourself in your combat form,” Enkidu said. “Our Master will have your hide.”
“Hssss. I need more food. More élan. I want our Galssss.”
“We can’t keep our Gals anywhere near those damned Arms or they’ll kill them,” Enkidu said. “They can sense our Gals but not us, remember? Our Master will guard them during the day and we’ll go back to them tonight.”
Heavy paces approached Gilgamesh and he heard Enkidu’s heavy breathing above him. Suddenly, something scraped across Gilgamesh’s chest and drew blood. Gilgamesh squawked in panic and tried to move, but managed nothing more than a wiggle.
“You might as well stop pretending to be unconscious, Gilgamesh,” Enkidu said. “All three of you, in fact.”
Resigned to his fate, Gilgamesh opened his working eye. Wire and Tolstoy shifted positions beside him. Grendel, the lizard Beast Man, uncurled himself from the far wall where he had gone to avoid Enkidu’s ire and stood on his four legs. He gave the Crows a hungry look as he walked over to them.
“They were pretending!” Grendel said, sounding surprised and offended. Enkidu ignored him.
Gilgamesh didn’t answer. Neither did Wire and Tolstoy.
“Let me tell you how it’s going to be,” Enkidu said. He folded his arms across his broad chest and sneered down at Gilgamesh. “We’re hunting Arms. They killed our Gals, so they need to die.”
“Die, yeah, die,” Grendel cut in, hissing, in a sort-of sing song voice. “We’re going to cut them into little tiny piecesesss and eat the piecesesss while they watch. Fuck them til they’re spa-ssplit down the middle.”
“Shut up, Grendel,” Enkidu said. “This is business.”
“Kill them. Cut their heartss out. Cut them into little piecessss.”
Enkidu spoke over Grendel’s bloodthirsty background murmuring. “We’re going to kill both of them. We’re going to wait until one of them kills. We’ll both kill the one while she’s unconscious. Then we’ll go after the other, two against one, and kill her too.”
“Eat the piecessss while they sssstill live. Fuck them right up the middle,” Grendel continued.
Gilgamesh said nothing and neither did the other Crows. He appreciated the level heads of the other Crows. They all knew terror. Not a one of them allowed the panic to make him stupid.
“You’re going to help us,” Enkidu said to the Crows. “We want information. I want to know everything you three have learned about them while you
’ve watched them. You can metasense them. You know all about them. Tell me and I’ll let you live.” Enkidu paused and prodded Gilgamesh with his foot. The prod rocked Gilgamesh’s body back and forth, the pain a summons of tears to his eyes. To his surprise, Gilgamesh’s second eye sprung open, vision blurry. He realized his eye had been welded shut by dried blood.
“Tonight, you three will be on watch. You won’t be able to escape and the goddamned Arms and Focuses can’t metasense either you Crows or us Hunters worth shit, if at all. If any of you give me any trouble, I’ll kill you.” Enkidu smiled a dangerous and hungry smile. “I only need one of you.”
Enkidu scanned the three of them, all lined up in a row on the floor. “You going to tell me what I want to know?” Enkidu said, his voice even deeper, and his claws now curled in front of him.
Gilgamesh moved his head, still dizzy from the fight, and located Tolstoy and Wire. Both he and Tolstoy fixed their gaze on Wire, looking for guidance. Wire was pale.
Grendel padded over to Wire, noseless face almost at Wire’s chest.
“Wh-what do you want to know?” Wire forced out in a whisper, voice not quite steady.
“Ansssswers!” Grendel roared. He slashed forward with his claws, at and through Wire’s neck, nearly decapitating the Crow. Chunks of flesh flew across the room and blood spurted in a fountain.
Wire died with an explosion of dross and juice that filled the room, covering everything, saturating and pervading. Grendel laughed a hissing laugh and drew from the mess. Enkidu swore, “God damn it, Grendel! Our Master wanted that one in specific!” and then he, too, drew.
Gilgamesh, in stark terror, tried to sick up dross, but he didn’t have any to sick up. Instead, he sank into the black pit of unconsciousness.
Enkidu: August 22, 1967
“No. You stay away from Gal 3,” Wandering Shade said, his face dark with anger. Grendel bowed his head almost to the floor of the ranger’s cabin, their new home away from home in Ridley Creek State Park. Although only fifteen miles from the warehouse district and their captive Crows, the park was vacant enough for their purposes. Especially after their Master proved to be able to disguise himself as the park ranger. The nameless park ranger now lived in the basement with the more recalcitrant of their Gals and Zombies.
“Why, Masssster?” Grendel said. “She’sss about to go over.”
“We’ll let Enkidu take her,” Wandering Shade said. “This is punishment for your mistakes, Grendel. For killing the Crow Wire.”
Grendel was a fool.
“Enkidu, what’s with those other things you’re keeping in the basement,” Wandering Shade said. “They’re male Transforms in withdrawal, aren’t they?” Enkidu nodded. He used the park ranger’s recliner for his seat and ate raw pork from a bucket. They had knocked over a butcher shop in Valley Forge three days ago, and a little of their haul remained. “They don’t feel right.”
“Master, I’ve been experimenting again,” Enkidu said, and burped. Transform Sickness and its products was too fruitful a playground of power to ignore.
“He’ssss a real Abraham Eissssenstein, Massster,” Grendel said.
Enkidu ignored him. “We can hunt down male Transforms as easily as we can hunt women Transforms, and I decided to figure out if I could make use of them.” His experiments showed promise. Two of his Gals he had made special, able to be kept forever, bound with the Law. Neither Gal talked, unlike Grendel’s three best. The tie to the Law and to him made them good in the sack, though. There was nothing like a willing lover to make a day shine.
“Ah, so you drove one into withdrawal and didn’t take all his élan?” Wandering Shade asked.
“Yup. Uh, correct, boss,” Enkidu said. He put down his food bucket and slid it across the floor to his Gal 2, a monkey-shaped creature with vicious teeth, who grabbed the bucket and began to gulp down raw pork gobbets. “I stuck him down with the unsalvageable Gals to find out if by some chance he regenerated his juice. Instead of regenerating his juice, he did something completely new: he stabilized. I got another one and did the same thing, but didn’t keep him down with the Gals. Guess what? He died like a psycho normally does.”
Wandering Shade got up and paced, scattering Cleo, Becky and Laura, Grendel’s three top Gals. Laura hissed, drawing a frown from the Shade. She nearly passed out in fear. Enkidu shook his head at the antics of Grendel’s undisciplined Gals. “Very interesting, but I’m not sure what use those things are.”
“Well, at worst they’re light élan snacks on the hoof,” Enkidu said.
“Massster, there’sss other usesss for them asss well,” Grendel said. “It’s Cleo’sss idea. If we can get enough of them, they’d make a good dissssss…” Grendel snapped at the air. The fool had lost another word.
These days, Enkidu suspected Cleo had become smarter than Grendel himself.
Wandering Shade walked over and prodded Cleo with his foot. “So, do you remember the word Grendel lost?”
Cleo curled up and hid her face from Wandering Shade. Wandering Shade had all the Gals terrified, especially Grendel’s talking Gals. “Distraction,” she said, her voice easier to understand than Grendel’s.
Enkidu still wanted a Gal who could talk. The Shade thought of the Gals as nothing more than the Hunters’ juice supply, but he was wrong. They represented power, unharnessed power. He worked hard perfecting draws from the Gals and bringing their minds back, but he needed more experience. He was just too young a Hunter.
“I want to hear more about this.” He turned to Enkidu. “From someone who can talk.”
Enkidu finished off the last hunk of raw pork in his hand in one gulp. “Master. We’ve learned we might have a problem with the Focuses. Even those two idiot Crows knew about Grendel’s encounter with the Focus, which means there’s some sort of convoluted communication path between the Focuses, Crows and Arms. They’re not as ignorant of each other as we thought, and I’m betting the Focuses hired the Arms to go after us. More importantly, the Crows know the head bitch Focus in the area, who they named Hera, supplies surplus clinic Transforms for the older Arm. Which means the bitch has herself a pet Arm. If we attack the Arms, we’re likely to end up with a bunch of damned Focus bitches and their Transform armies on our asses as well. Sir.”
Wandering Shade spat. “What does this have to do with those psychos?”
“Cleo figured out the Zombies – that’s my name for a psycho we’ve stabilized – follow the scent of juice.” It had taken a lot of work, but Enkidu had managed to somewhat befriend Cleo. She was the only one around here the least bit interesting to talk with. “If we release them downwind of the Focuses, they’ll march toward them, even though their minds are gone.”
“Zombies!” Wandering Shade laughed, screwed his eyes up so that only the whites were showing, and shuffled slowly across the room. Enkidu nodded and laughed as well. “There’s a problem, though. I count only two of your juice zombies. You’ll need more than two to distract one of the pathetic Focuses, and Hera is anything but pathetic.”
“Master, I’m afraid we’re going to have to do some more hunting,” Enkidu said, and licked his lips.
“I understand how much any extra hunting will pain you,” Wandering Shade said. Grendel chuffed laughter. Grendel loved to hunt, even when he didn’t have to. “That will push the schedule back, and force me to be involved as well, to release these Zombies of yours.”
“It’s unavoidable.”
“Who’ll guard the Gals, then?” their Master asked.
Enkidu took a deep breath. “Let them guard themselves for once.” Let Cleo prove herself, he didn’t say.
Wandering Shade nodded and turned his back on Enkidu. “Let’s do this.”
Carol Hancock: August 23, 1967
I paced Bobby’s Baltimore apartment, jittery from higher than optimal juice, and thought about my day. I had worn him out twice, but he would recover soon. I felt his hot gaze on me from the bed, where he should be resting and sleeping, as the cl
ock read 12:17. The place stank of sweat, sex and bad takeout Chinese. I was both annoyed and pleased with myself. Annoyed because I had gotten my Baltimore test kill only twenty-two minutes from where I captured him before he became mine; my goal had been an hour. Pleased because my plastic sheeting idea had worked to block the juice smell. I learned, alas, I also had a problem with my metasense. Progress, albeit minimal. However, as I had said to Zielinski, if my graduation test was easy it wouldn’t be worth doing.
The second I fell asleep I had the pinball nightmare again. Only this time I remembered to look at the scoreboard of the pinball game, and amid the blinking lights and whirring numbers I made out the figure of an androgynous clown, an evil androgynous clown whose eyes followed my every move. The clown eyes awakened me quickly. I didn’t know what to think about the crazy dream.
“Do you know what I am, Bobby?” I said.
He practically died of a heart attack on the spot. “Huh? What do you mean?” Bobby said. Liar.
“Relax,” I said. “So you’ve figured out I’m an Arm. I’m not going to kill you just for that. I’ll get you for your other failings…”
I smiled at him, and the threat and the smile gave him an instant erection. Bobby was fun in bed, an intriguing mix of macho and sensitivity. Turned on by danger, too.
He was mine.
“I’m a predator,” I said. “What’s my prey?”
“Humans?” he said. Dangerous conversation. He liked the talk, and I liked his fear.
“Unwanted Transforms,” I said. “They’re going to die, anyway. But how do normal humans treat their prey?”
“Huh? We don’t have prey, do we?”
“Then where does meat come from? Don’t say supermarkets, either.” Glare.
My glare earned me an extra frisson of fear. “Okay. Farms, I guess,” he said. “Slaughterhouses.”
I hadn’t given much thought, before, about how humans treated their own prey. My previous ruminations had been on hunting, but reading a hundred issues of Field and Stream hadn’t given me a single useful idea. Hunting was sport, not the method producing our nation’s majority of meat. Meat came from cows and chickens and pigs.
Now We Are Monsters (The Commander) Page 29
