Karma City

by Gardener Browning

  “I’m not lying, Jameson. I haven’t lied to you yet.”

  “I don’t trust you, Brighton.”

  “Fine. But can we at least agree to survive?”

  Jameson tugged again. This time, the circulation to his hands was cut off. Pain surged up his arm.

  “You can’t break the binds. But I can.”

  “You’re not taking over. After what you did to Luna—”

  “Let me redeem myself.”

  Jameson snickered while wincing in pain. “How are you going to do that?”

  “As a parasite, my lifecycle brings me through stages of life until I am perfect. I have reached stage two. I am stronger. We can work together now. Neither of us in full control. That is, if you make the choice to let me connect.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I am bonded to you neurologically. However, there are chambers of your brain that remain unresponsive to me. Only you can complete our synaptic convergence. We will both be in control. My power and strength will be yours whenever you need it.”

  “I don’t trust you!” yelled Jameson.

  Footfalls echoed down the hall. Jameson heard deep voices, mad and determined in tone, fast approaching.

  “Your stubbornness is infuriating! Don’t you understand?” Brighton’s voice darkened with urgency. “You are my weakness. For me to be alive, you must be alive. Because of this, I cannot harm you. Join with me! Let’s work together!”

  The captors appeared at the cage door. They wore soiled furs and long, greasy beards. Weeping sores cratered their smudged faces and long knives dangled from their belts. “Who are you talking to in there?” one shouted.

  “The deal is a simple one,” said Jameson to Brighton. “It’s you and me…not you or me. Violate this once and I’ll destroy you; even if that means destroying myself. Agreed?”

  The trappers entered the room with blades gleaming in the lantern light.

  “Agreed!”

  “Let’s get out of here, Brighton!”

  Jameson closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt his consciousness being pulled to the mental plane inhabited by the organism within him. Brighton’s image appeared. The parasitic being stood in his long, black coat enveloped by a strange, pulsing darkness. A luminous green mist trailing at his heels provided enough light for Jameson to make out the pale face that spoke to him.

  “Mutation, Jameson, is the trial and error of a species to not only exist in a threatening environment, but thrive. Mutation is evolution.” Brighton offered an outstretched hand. “It is time for you to evolve!”

  Jameson took Brighton’s hand.

  He opened his eyes and they blazed.

  Like the eyes of a cat, the surrounding shadows recoiled and the darkness lifted. In this powerful night vision, Jameson saw body heat in yellow blurs, and the varying scents and temperatures swirled in ribbons of green and blue light. Predatory eyes. Malad-X power supreme.

  A hunter in thick furs raised his blade over Jameson.

  Jameson tugged his restraints, ripping them like paper. The hunter swung his blade down, but Jameson snatched the man’s wrist and bent it back, snapping the bones. He kicked the man away and jumped from the table, as five more hunters charged into the cell, ready to kill and devour him Jameson met them all with murderous strength. He drove his elbow squarely into one hunter’s chest. The breast bone caved as though made of brittle wood. As the man gasped in the pains of death, Jameson hurled the body across the room, sending the man crashing over the others. But the passage was too tight for him to flee so soon. The attackers shoved their now dead brother aside and closed in. Jameson’s fists became hammers, smashing faces, breaking jaws and shattering noses. The hunters fell back against the stone walls, and Jameson palmed their skulls against the stone, splitting their heads. With all of the dead before him, he lifted a machete from a corpse and ran down the dimly lit hall, cutting down the Malady infected hunters that crossed his path.

  Brighton empowered Jameson beyond anything he could have ever imagined with graceful speed, incalculable might, and nocturnal vision that made his escape effortless and at the same time, horrifying to behold. Once a shotgun toting drifter, Jameson had become a lethal phantom weaving through the darkness with glowing green eyes and a blood-wet face.

  Jameson’s Malad-X vision revealed lines of cold air flowing from the airfield’s frozen surface. He followed the draft and reached a central room dug deep under the terminal building. Across the room, a rusted metal staircase ascended two levels to meet the floorboards above. A wooden hatch overhead beckoned him. The way out. Hang on, Luna. I’m coming.

  Half way into the large room, the colony of infected hunters stormed in and surrounded Jameson, cutting off his path to the staircase. His eyes flared with green light and his fingers curled. One of the hunters lifted a crossbow and fired. The arrow streaked like lightning for Jameson’s heart, but he batted it away as if swatting a fly. The hunters barreled in with bows, spears, knives and machetes.

  Jameson fought with battering-ram kicks and hammer-fall punches but his body ached and stiffened. “There’s too many of them,” said Jameson. “I can’t keep this up for long!” He ducked under arrows and broke spears with his boots. His knuckles shattered jaws and his fingers tore at eyes.

  “The stairs,” urged Brighton. “Jump up to that hatch!”

  “Do what? That’s almost twenty feet!”

  “Jump!”

  Jameson fixed his eyes on the lofty staircase and crouched low. His legs shoved off the ground with astounding force, sending him soaring over the mob. He reached out and snatched hold of the staircase rails and swung up to the scaffold under the hatch. He reached up and pushed the heavy panel. “Damn! It’s barred closed on the other side.”

  “You know what to do.”

  Jameson’s fist ruptured the wood. Cold air blew in from the dark building above. He climbed out and emerged in a room of cages and heavy, wooden work benches. “That was unbelievable!” he exclaimed, marveling at his new power.

  “You fight well,” said Brighton, “but you must hurry. The hunters will climb up after you in a few seconds.”

  Jameson toppled a workbench and shoved it over the open hatch. “That’ll slow them down.” He quickly panned the room and found a window facing the airstrip. He peered through the frosted glass. His Malad-X eyes dispelled the night’s darkness and he saw Luna, Jack and Albert dashing across the snowy runway toward a hanger near the side of the mountain.

  Standing in front of the wide hanger door Jack felt the years of loneliness and sorrow as if he stood at the threshold of a family mausoleum. How could he have ever forgotten this place—this cold, olive-green door that he’d run to in excitement countless times? Malady’s cruelty knew no limit. Jack’s heart sank with anxiety. What if the plane is gone? But what if it’s not?

  Luna slapped him the arm. “Snap out of it, Jack, and tell us how we get this giant door open.”

  “There’s an entrance on the left side. The hanger door is motorized and activated from the inside.”

  “Lead on.”

  Rust and ice crusted over the side door confirming that no one had entered the building in many years. Luna shot apart the hinges and handle, then kicked the door in. The group entered the dark hanger and Luna switched on her light. An enormous object filled the room, shrouded in a heavy canvas. “I think we’ve found it, Jack.”

  Jack approached the hulking form and pulled off the dusty canvas. The three gasped at the silver and red-striped airplane. Luna’s light beamed off the curved nose. Jack reached up and touched the propeller blade, hoping that his memory would return.

  Luna stood beside him. “It’s beautiful.”

  Albert whistled in amazement. “The dimensions are geometrically lovely. And it is in magnificent condition. What type of airplane is this?”

  Jack’s answer was automatic. “This is a short take-off and landing aircraft with a single engine, propeller driven, high-wing
design. She is roughly three thousand pounds with a top speed of about one hundred and sixty miles per hour. She’s got a wingspan…oh, I’d say…just less than fifty feet. This is my bush plane, Albert. She can take-off and land in some of the harshest terrains.” Jack ran his hand over the airplane door and still-frame memories fluttered in his mind, scattered in the confusion of his illness. “After my father died, I sold the airplanes to Rime. They were scrapped and repurposed. I couldn’t part with this one, though. She was my favorite, she was mine. Then, I contracted Malady—not sure how—and I forgot things. To stay safe, I quit flying and put the plane in storage. I returned every year to maintain her but eventually, I forgot all about her. Malady stole away that entire chapter of my life.”

  Albert shook his head sympathetically. “When was the last time you were here, Jack?”

  Jack opened the cockpit door and reached under the seat. He withdrew a maintenance log binder and opened it to the last page. “Three years ago. I don’t even remember the trip.”

  “Well it’s absolutely incredible that your memory has returned,” said Albert.

  “Don’t start celebrating, Albert. I still can’t remember how to fly.”

  Luna looked sternly at Jack. “You need to try harder. We’re at the point where you must remember. Let’s start this airplane, get Jameson, and fly out of here.”

  “Let me see if I can get the power on in the hanger first,” said Jack. He flicked the switches of the main panel on the back wall. Sparks flew but delivered no energy. “There’s a generator outside, behind the building. I’ll try that.”

  As Jack moved over the snow to the back of the building, he paused. Luna’s right. I’ve got to try harder. Need to relax and think. Maybe a little Quell will help me remember. He shook a pill into his palm, brought it up to his mouth, and then stopped. But I hate the way it makes me feel. Can’t risk feeling sick if I’m going to fly. He clutched the pill in his fist and hurried to the generator switch.

  Rust jammed the power lever. The electrical conduit feeding into the hanger had corroded, its core of wires dangerously exposed. Jack banged on the power lever to loosen it. After a few minutes of tugging and swearing, the lever snapped down and the generator rumbled on. Sparks crackled from the exposed wires as the high voltage electricity coursed into the hanger. Jack heard the hanger door rattling as it rolled open. He smiled. “I love that sound.”

  Jameson ran silently along the perimeter of the airfield, hurrying toward the hanger. His Malad-X vision illuminated the scent trail of his friends. He detected the thermal aura of body heat behind the hanger.

  “Someone’s lurking in the back,” said Brighton.

  Jameson sniffed, his heightened senses detecting Malady. “Smells like another infected hunter.”

  “Your friends are about to be ambushed. Let’s get him.”

  Jameson’s eyes flashed as Brighton’s power surged in him. He sprinted over the snow like a wolf charging for the kill. The scent of Malady enraged him. Brighton’s engineered instinct to slay the Lesser parasite overcame Jameson and the thermal vision was all he could see.

  A blurry human shape took form behind the hanger. Jameson attacked, digging his fingers into the man’s throat. The choking sounded far away in Jameson’s mind as Brighton took full control.

  Jack couldn’t peel Jameson off of him. The horrible green light in Jameson’s eyes frightened Jack more than any Malady night terror. He coughed, wheezed and fought to suck in air. His vision darkened. In another minute, he’d be dead.

  As Jack squeezed his fists to deliver one last punch, he felt the small pill in his palm. He remembered what Quell did to Jameson Shoals. In a final burst of strength, Jack shoved the pill into Jameson’s mouth.

  Brighton tasted the drug as soon as it touched his tongue. He backed away from Jack, spitting the tiny pill to the snow. Brighton’s repulsion allowed Jameson’s awareness to regain control. He saw Jack Halligan on his hands and knees, wheezing and coughing. I’ve made a terrible mistake, thought Jameson. Brighton is taking over. Jameson’s vow against Brighton came echoing back to him, violate this once and I’ll destroy you, even if that means destroying myself. He felt Brighton’s anger rising within him again. The parasite had become very strong and his influence harder to resist. He decided that he could no longer allow for more risk to his friends. He decided to keep his vow.

  The generator hummed and the electricity arced in white bursts across the open line. He reached for it.

  “Don’t touch that, you fool!” screamed Brighton.

  “We had a deal, you son of a bitch. And I warned you!” Jameson grabbed the conduit.

  The voltage streaked through his body and blew him back into the surrounding snow banks. The Malad-X power absorbed most of the shock and Jameson rolled out of the bank with a throbbing head and badly burned hand. Blood streamed from his nose and his bloodshot eyes met Jack’s. “Forgive me.”

  “You weren’t kidding…” replied Jack between coughs. “Your sickness is definitely worse than mine.”

  Luna and Albert found Jack and Jameson hunched over in the snow, blood dotted the area.

  “Jameson,” exclaimed Luna. “What’s going on back here?”

  Jameson pushed himself to his feet, and then pulled up Jack. He was about to explain how Brighton had forced an attack on Jack, when the cold wind carried the strong stench of Malady to his nose. He listened with supernatural acuity. From the flight tower at the edge of the runway, the enraged men of the mountain formed an advancing wall armed with rifles and crossbows. Jameson pointed to the small army. “We have to get out of here now!”

  Luna took Jack by the shoulders and looked squarely into his eyes. “Are you ready to fly?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Luna’s rifle flashed in bursts of yellow. In the cold air, hot wisps of smoke curled from the deadly muzzle with every shot. Bodies fell, lining the frozen runway. The huntsmen returned the assault with screeching arrows and whining bullets that pinged from the runway. Hiding behind the hanger, she covered Jack, Jameson and Albert as they worked together, pushing the bush plane from the hanger and onto the strip. Once lined up for take-off, Jack opened the cabin doors and motioned for the others to climb into the back seats.

  Think, think, think. What’s first?

  “Hurry, Jack,” shouted Luna. With the plane’s door still open, she exchanged fire with the horde. “I’m getting low on ammo!”

  Confusion blurred Jack’s vision as he eyed the multitude of gages and switches. I can’t remember! I can’t do this!

  Jameson’s shotgun boomed.

  Albert closed his eyes and hugged his satchel in fear.

  “Get us out of here!” yelled Jameson. “There’s too many of them. They’re almost at the plane!”

  Beyond the windshield, Jack saw the waves of bloodthirsty, Malady infected wild-men. Over them, beyond the boundaries of the runway, the rising moon glowed alone in the black sky, setting a silver fire over the snow-covered field. He heard the men outside banging against the airplane and his friends shouting to him in desperation.

  Jack buried his face in his palms. “I can’t,” he muttered. A hand patted his knee.

  “Yes, you can, son.” Corpse-Dad appeared in the co-pilot seat beside him, translucent in the silver moonlight. “We’ll do it together. Listen to me and follow my hands. Okay?”

  Jack wiped his eyes and nodded.

  “First,” Corpse-Dad reached low on the control panel, “master switch on.”

  Jack placed his hands in the apparition of his father’s. He flipped the switch.

  “Good,” said Corpse-Dad. “Now prime the engine.” His ghostly hand hovered over a black knob. “Quickly, son. There isn’t much time.”

  Jack pumped the knob three times.

  “Crack the throttle and switch on the fuel pump. Give it five seconds…mixture out…throttle back. Like me, son. Don’t worry!”

  Jack followed the motions and performed the actions mimed by hi
s father.

  “Twist the key to start the engine.”

  Jack turned the small key. The airplane shook as it awakened. The body vibrated as the props whirled. The crowd of attackers leapt back in fear.

  Jack laughed; tears of relief streamed down his face.

  “Switch off the fuel pump,” Corpse-Dad shouted over the airplane engine. “Good…now we lower the flaps like so…excellent! You’ve got this, son! Ease in the power and start accelerating! Hurry! It’s time to fly!”

  The airplane lurched forward, rolling down the strip. Jack pushed it faster and faster until the flight controls took a life of their own in his grip. The edge of the runway met the front wheels. Jack pulled back the yoke and the airplane lifted into the starry night.

  “Woo-hoo!” hollered Jack. “We did it, Dad!”

  “No, son,” Corpse-Dad’s voice faded, “it was you!”

  Jack looked to the seat beside him but his father was gone. The plane flew away from mountain, climbing higher and higher until, at last, they soared over the expanse of Karma City.

  Luna leaned forward from the back seat and hugged Jack around his neck. “Well done, my friend.”

  “Thank you for believing in me.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “This is breathtaking.”

  Jack let his eyes trail to the city below. The streetlights looked like fireflies. So many people down there and no one up here. Such peace, such perfect peace. I’ve missed this. I’ve needed this. And Donna…he focused his vision over the central district of Karma City. He scanned the dark squares of the rooftops and traced the shadowed streets until he found his home, Greely Park. Horror washed over him when a horrific orange explosion lit the area where Donna’s diner stood. “No!” he yelled. Without hesitation, Jack adjusted the flaps and pushed the yoke. The nose dipped, angling the bush plane into a sharp descent. The group clutched their seatbelts as Jack steered the plane down toward Greely Park District. “I’m coming, Donna!”

  Luna wrung her seatbelt as the bush plane sliced between buildings. Like riding the racing train at night, unstoppable motion always felt faster in the dark. Karma City’s many towers and tenements rushed by—colossal pillars of earthy brown, slate black and bone gray—as Jack’s plane glided closer and closer to the grass of Greely Park. She watched Jack work the yoke with careful precision, his eyes calculating countless variables, confident and hawk-like. The cabin shuddered. She held her breath, now only feet from the ground. The wings trembled and as the wheels met the Earth, the craft bounced violently, the tail swinging left, then right as Jack fought with the uneven terrain. The plane halted with a sudden, chaotic grace and Luna let out a slow, calming exhale when Jack shut off the engine.