by Mikael Aizen
She was a Survivor who'd gotten used to her way of surviving. Change would be scary. She'd been protected, not happy, but protected. "Esperanza is the only place in Morir where nobody dies on a daily basis, on any basis."
"It's real then?"
"Sure it is. People live almost like humans there."
"You're kidding..." her voice trailed off.
"No," he said.
But she wasn't talking to him. Jay followed her gaze straight behind him. "Fuck," Jay said.
Mike was holding his gun right up to Jay's nose. "What are you doing? She's clean, you don't need to trick her."
"Up against the wall, Jay."
Jay obeyed, moving slowly. He'd seen how fast Mike'd been on the trigger. Fast enough to be in a Western. What was going on?
Mike walked behind Karah. He shifted the gun onto her. "Sit," he told her.
She took a seat in the chair behind her, all the while looking at Jay as if this was his fault.
"Talk to me Mike, what do you want?" None of this made any sense. Mike had killed Gamer to prove his loyalty. What was going on and why was the gun pointed at Karah? If he'd wanted to get Jay, he could've killed him any of his ten chances to.
Then, looking at Mike's maniacal smile, Jay figured it out. Revenge. The kind of revenge of a torn up a guy's heart.
"You really care about her, don't you?" The edge of Mike's lip quivered. "You must, if in all this time of saving people, you're finally coming to risk your life in Toothache's Lair. It's always been anywhere but here." Mike's looked so excited that he seemed high. Either that or he had the biggest erection right now. "You really must care about her. I had to see it for myself."
"Well you saw it. Now drop the fucking gun," Jay said.
"This is perfect justice," Mike moaned.
Goddamnit Paul. It's YOUR fault this is happening. Or maybe it was karma, Jay's own damn fault.
"If you really care for her, put the knife down," Mike said.
There were a few things he'd gotten good at. One of them was throwing knives, even at a distance. Plus, Karah was a Survivor, she'd duck. Or he hoped she would.
Jay chucked the knife straight at Mike. Karah, bless her, ducked and the blade went into Mike's opposite shoulder. Mike roared, pulling away in pain as Jay rushed forward, catching the man's wrists before he could aim it on Jay or Karah. They wrestled for a while and Jay saw Karah dart out of the room. He didn't blame her, it was her instinct--a Survivor.
But then she appeared moments later, wielding a scalpel. He grit his teeth, wrestling hard until he somehow ended up to the side and slightly behind Mike's body. Jay was losing his grip on the gun. Mike threw an elbow into Jay's face and Karah screamed, charging forward from across the room. Jay lost hold of Mike's wrists, even as his senses sharpened from the hard achy pain.
The Enforcer let out a triumphant yell and pointed the gun at Karah.
Jay had no choice. He threw his left hand right onto the glowing red part of the gun where he wasn't supposed to touch, keeping as much of his body behind the huge Enforcer as he could. About three pitches of sound and panicked wrestling later--
The gun exploded.
Jay hit the ground and felt the Enforcer's weight land right on top of him. There was rush of searing agony from his arm and then he looked and felt a rush of sickness. Sickness and clarity. Sharp bones from halfway up his forearm stuck out from where his hand had been. Charred flesh half mutilated hung thread like off his stump. Jay swallowed the scream of sheer panic and hurt that threatened to escape. Because he'd never felt anything like this before. This kind of agony. This kind of focus that overwhelmed him to the point that it felt like he'd faint. Jay managed a crawling roll out from underneath Mike, dragging himself out from under the Enforcer's body. He saw Karah laying on the floor a distance away. She moved a little. She was alive.
Jay crawled to her, cradling his arm. It wasn't bleeding very much and there were burn marks covering the stump. "Karah!" he said, shaking her. Her image blurred, and he could tell he was swaying, but he couldn't prevent it.
She blinked. Her eyes went to his stump with the half-foot paired bones sticking out of them.
"C'mon, we've got to go," he said to her.
She just stared.
There was a roar-scream behind him, and Jay spun. Fucking Mike! The Enforcer had pulled the knife out from his shoulder with his remaining hand and even with his face half-blown off Jay saw the rage in the his eye. He charged Jay, holding the knife above him like a homicidal maniac.
Karah yelled something and Jay tried to move, but he felt weak, too weak to deflect a man Mike's size.
So he used the only weapon he had--
--the bones sticking out of his wrist.
He leaned away and stabbed. Straight into the Enforcer's armpit with all the force he could muster. Mike's body stopped like it hit a brick wall, and his knife arm drooped and then dropped. His body slumped and Jay tried to pull his bones free, but they caught on some ribs. Mike's body came down. Jay felt a snap. Higher up in his arm, right by the elbow.
I can't take this. Jay blinked, looking at the ceiling. Nausea overcame him in torrents of white flashing waves. He felt his eyes roll to the side like he couldn't control them.
Karah's face hovered above him and he felt his wrist pulled free roughly. Then she was running around the room, grabbing things and throwing them on his stump. Probably disinfectant or something. He couldn't think, like the pain had finally overwhelmed him and a cloud had descended over his mind because when he willed his body to move, it moved a split second late--like he was using a video game controller or something to tell his body what to do.
She disappeared again and when she came back, she was holding a syringe. She put it right into his stump. It barely hurt. "It's my only one. I've been saving it."
The pain eased. Just enough for clarity to return.
Sensation from the rest of his body slowly trickled back to him. His hearing caught some kind of commotion not too far away, he felt his pulse rapid in his throat, he felt Karah's breasts right up against his arm as she lifted him to his feet. They were soft, and wonderful.
"Go, get out of here," she said.
"You aren't coming?" he gasped.
She looked at Mike's body. "I'm sorry Jay, I can't believe you after seeing this. I'm safer here."
"I didn't come all this way to leave you behind." His breath was coming back to him even if he still felt weak as a babe.
"You won't convince me. Just leave."
"You don't have to stay in this hell hole. And there's no telling the next Gamer will treat you as 'well' as the last." The commotion had spread, yells and in-fighting erupting. That's what happened when a Gamer died. It'd be chaos for a while.
"I've done too much already. Please just go." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, when she did, he felt a tear cling to his cheek. Karah sat down in her chair and folder her hands in her lap. "Go," she said again.
He couldn't drag her, could he? Not with one hand, at least. "Meet me at Pope's Hat in two days, dawn. I'll come for you then if you change your mind."
She kept sitting.
After he'd glanced around to see if his hand was completely disintegrated and unsalvageable, he got the hell out of Lair.
And yes, it was. Nothing salvageable bigger than a thumbtack.
Chapter 17
The Scientific method has failed us.
Decades of research have left us with little to no practical application. Billions and trillions of dollars pumped into pharmaceutical research led us to barren wastelands, no different than we first began in the exploration of the world of health. Not when compared to first and even second world countries that have funded their own research into "Natural Science" methods.
There is a time and a use for every tool, but perhaps we've overused this tool?
If we were to use the Scientific Method to test itself in efficacy and usefulness, using historic population and citizen health as our
markers, we clearly see that the Scientific Method has failed in comparison with methods as ancient as Chinese Trial-and-Error.
Progress has been made, doubtless, there is no argument against that, but perhaps we can admit that there are things too complicated for the Scientific Method to encompass. The European originated Natural Science Method takes into account finite time. Let us take a chance and realize that we are finite beings and thus, science cannot ever factor or collect every aspect of human anatomy, emotion, and lifestyles. Not in time.
I suggest we embrace common sense into our science, before it is too late and we are all dead. Or do we need a study to prove that, first?
-Fillamore, Eric. "It's not too late. US Science Plays 'Catch-up.'" Healthblog. Jan 18, 2018. Http://healthblog.health/science/its.not.too.late
Kyle climbed into the blue Vortex--Tim and Del's electric car.
"How was school, son?" Tim asked.
"Where's Del?"
Tim sighed. "I really wish you would call us 'Mom' and 'Dad'. Let's try that again. How was school, son?"
Kyle bobbed his head. "Good." It hadn't been good, it never was, but that's what Tim and Del wanted to hear.
Tim began driving and Kyle sat back in his seat. A second later, Tim took a left turn instead of a right. "Where are we going?" Kyle asked immediately.
Tim tapped his own nose. "It's a surprise."
"Where are we going?" Kyle insisted, sitting up and staring at the road signs for a clue. No need to panic.
Tim took his eyes from the road and glanced at Kyle. "School that bad?"
Kyle held his breath and made himself sit back again. "Stop asking me questions."
Tim grunted. "Your Mom's on a business trip and I want to show you something. You'll like it, I promise."
Kyle tried to pretend he was OK with being taken somewhere secret, someplace that Tim promised would be a good surprise. But he wasn't. Not even close. He wasn't OK with anything that had happened to him. He wasn't OK with the fact that he couldn't tell anyone what had happened. What he'd done. What he'd had to do so many times. It felt like a dream most the time, but it wasn't. Kyle knew what he'd done and he knew the decisions he'd made. And he kept it all inside where no one else could see it.
"You shouldn't pretend so much," Tim said after a while.
Kyle stared at him.
"Talk to us. Tell us what happened. You can trust us, we're your parents." Tim pushed the button and turned the car off. Kyle didn't move. Part of him was afraid of what he'd see outside. That he'd be somewhere secret, a hidden place where he would be forced to kill other boys to survive, again. Except this time it'd be Tim doing this to him and not some kids with a sack and a truck.
"Nothing happened," Kyle said.
Tim sighed. A big, long, deep. Sigh. "Kyle, you haven't been the same. Every day you worry us more. We're so happy you're back but you're not the same kid we fell in love with."
Kyle didn't answer. Until he did. "Del, not you. You never loved me."
"That's not fair."
Kyle shrugged.
"She cries you know," Tim said, letting the matter drop. "Every night she cries. She blames herself. When you disappeared, she called everybody, did everything, never stopped and never slept trying to find you. And after we found you she still feels like she failed because she was too late to save you because...because we know Kyle. We see it in your eyes. Something happened to you that was horrible and frightening." Tim's fingers tapped at the wheel steadily. "Let us help you. Talk to us and we can get through this."
Kyle pulled the lever by his chair, his seat pulled him to sit straight. He looked around. "Why are we here?" They were at the lake where the blood testing trailer had been close to. Where he'd seen Callie and where he'd killed his first. Jeff.
Then Kyle saw his answer. Callie was here.
She was standing by the lake on the trail where they'd walked hand in hand together, happy. She was wearing a white skirt today with a red bow around her waist. And she was smiling at Kyle.
Tim leaned back in his seat and threw his hands behind his neck. "I'll wait here. We'll talk afterward." He closed his eyes with a contented smirk.
Kyle opened the door and got out. And walked up to Callie. And looked at her quietly.
She threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and Kyle tensed, and relaxed. "Hi Callie," he said.
"Kyle." She leveraged herself off of him and stood back like she was embarrassed. She crossed her arms as she looked at him.
He looked right back. A serene moment passed as he gazed into her water-green eyes. She was happy to see him, and she wasn't afraid of him. Just happy. It felt so strange that he looked away at the lake instead. "It was an accident," he said.
"I know," she held out a hand. "I thought about it and I knew that you were too nice to kill anybody on purpose."
He hesitated before he took her outstretched hand. "I thought you'd blame me." They started walking around the lake like they had the first time.
"I did sometimes," she said. "But I'm OK now."
He hadn't know what reaction he'd expected from her, but whatever he'd dreamed would've happened--this felt better. "I thought I saw you with Tim last time," Kyle said.
She looked at him and then looked down. "I got scared. You're very unlucky you know."
Kyle nodded. "I know."
"You've been gone from school for a long time."
"Yeah."
"What happened? Where were you?"
"I'd rather not talk about it," he replied. He didn't, he really didn't. He didn't want to think about it either. All he wanted to do was pretend that it never happened.
"Kyle," she chided, still walking. Their hands had begun to swing back and forth between them. "If we're gonna be friends, we're going to have to share and be honest with each other. And if we're gonna get married someday, we'll have to be extra honest."
Huh? He let go of her hand. "Married? We're getting married?"
Callie put a finger by her lips. "Maybe." Then she laughed. "But that's later. We have to be good friends first."
"Callie..."
She interrupted him. "I know coming back is hard, and falling back another grade for missing three months of school is even harder. I know you're being bullied by a bunch of kids and I know no one seems to like you or want you around. I know you've had trouble talking to people since you've been back. And I know you're sad."
It seemed like everyone knew things about him lately. "You don't know anything, Callie. No one does." He rounded on her.
She gave him a frightened look.
He realized he had his fists up like he was going to hit her. He put them down. "I'm not a good person Callie, I'm not the kind of person you want to marry. I'm not even the kind of person you want to be friends with."
She managed a smile, though she still looked scared. "You're wrong. You're the nicest..."
"Stop saying that!" he yelled. "I killed Jeff, and he was only the first one. I've killed plenty of people Callie! Sixteen so far. And if you aren't careful, who knows? Maybe I'll kill you too!"
"But you don't have..."
"Who cares if I have The Code? I've killed. Murdered. They're dead and they're never coming back. I'm only ten, and I've murdered almost twice as many people as my age. What does that tell you, Callie? WHAT?" Kyle screamed, unable to hold himself back. His feelings were coming out in waves, strong feelings that he couldn't control. And he directed them at her. The frustration, the anger and guilt, the hate.
She looked scareder than he'd ever seen for a second, and then she looked mad. Callie suddenly slapped him across the face. "I don't care who you've killed, Kyle Alexander. I don't believe any of them were your fault and I still want you as my friend. But you have to want me as a friend too."
Kyle heard Tim's distant voice calling from the car. "Hey! You kids doing all right?"
Callie stood on her toes and waved. "Yes, Mr. Alexander!" She lifted her nose and jabbed a finger into his
chest. "I still think you're the nicest boy I've ever met."
"How can you say that?" Kyle asked. "Didn't you hear me?"
"I heard you fine. Now, hold my hand and walk with me." She held her hand out again and stomped her foot with a determined expression.
...Kyle took her hand.
And just like that he felt like a stopper plugged up his feelings. Anger, frustration and everything.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked her.
"Because you were nice to me, first," she said confidently.
They walked around the quiet lake and for the first time in a long while Kyle felt good about himself. The truth was that of the other kids that he'd killed, Kyle felt most guilty about Callie's brother. Maybe because Jeff had been the only one that had been an accident. The others...the others he'd killed for mercy or survival--when he hadn't had a choice, not a real choice. And maybe because after Jeff, it hadn't been that hard. Not really.
Or maybe. Maybe because something had happened after they'd injected him with stuff and after he'd been fighting for a while. Nothing he could be certain of, except that everything became easier. To hurt, to fight, to kill. He'd gotten stronger too--way stronger. Not strong like a superhero, but strong like he was older than ten. As strong as a teenager maybe. Kinda like El--the boy that had been in Kyle's class with big looking muscles. Except Kyle's muscles didn't look any different from before.
Kyle wondered if they'd injected The Code into him and given him The Code, kinda like a cold. Maybe he could ask Tim to test him again, just in case. Del wouldn't if he asked, he was sure of that. "What about you?" he asked. "What happened to you? You were gone for a while, too."
"My family, we're traditional. We went to bury my brother in the mountains in my parent's hometown." She nodded as if to herself, saying the words in a weird monotone. "And my parents got married again."
"I'm glad."
"You don't have to say that. Not if you don't mean it."
"I mean it," Kyle said. He was glad Callie's parents were doing well.
