The Tale of the Blood Diamond

by Laveen, Tiana

  So here he stood, on the planet, ready to render his own brand of magical torture after much grunt work had been done. This was something the Zarkstormians couldn’t stop as easily, and in that, Vex had a sense of pride. His work was harder to corral. He didn’t bludgeon a human on a city street or even a dark, desolate, forgotten part of town just for the hell of it. No, he entered their homes and devoured them whole without having to touch one hair in their half-twitted heads. Back home, despite Jatorn’s lack of a blessing, work was being done to obtain a sample, then to find exactly what was in the coveted vaccine of the Zarkstormian people. Vex didn’t care how long it took, and he didn’t care about the Yuledrakes, either. He would allow them to continue to sacrifice themselves, and the Lyalts to go up against the Zarkstormians in physical battle, while Vex’s people drifted about, waiting and ready to reap the benefits.

  “Oh, sweet superiority and greed, Jatorn.” Vex waited patiently at a stop sign until it blinked, and the WALK letters ushered him forward. “You learned little from your great grandfather. He knew the value of patience. This will be your undoing, naïve one. I want to thank you in advance for doing the grunt work, for the afterglow, we, the Morphitians, will savor.”

  He stuffed his hands into his coat pocket, a material he found irritating yet tolerable. It was bitterly cold in this portion of the planet, and to do without such a contraption for warmth would have been foolhardy. He’d never felt temperatures like this before, but he warmed quickly from the news that the coordinates of Xzion’s whereabouts had been pinpointed. What he hated was that his people were too afraid to approach the structure. He was sick and tired of Xzion having the ability to scare those that invented fear!

  The Morphitians were the Kings and Queens of anxiety, panic, cruelty, brutality and suffering. How dare Xzion’s mere name make their knees tremble. He did what he had to do, made the jaunt himself. He was old, but that wouldn’t stop him. He was going to live long enough to see his people reach their glory, to sink their teeth into the nightmares of officials and officers! He’d wanted to have a taste of a Zarkstormian dream for decades. Tonight may just be the night that spells were spun in his favor…

  ****

  Aton moved in the blustery cold, his hair whipping to and fro. Jayme rolled a blanket over the shivering man’s shoulders as he moved from the underground bunker, back to the pod. Zachary’s little body was strapped in tight, and he held his baby blue teddy bear in his arms. Xzion knew he did it more for his mother, than for himself. He smiled brightly at everyone, as if he were going on some magical adventure. And in a sense, he was. Jayme’s tears had stopped abruptly, but he knew it was only temporary. Aton hollered over the howling wind that seemed to pick up speed at that very moment.

  “Okay, he will be there in approximately eight hours. Immediately upon his arrival, your ring will light up, Jayme.”

  She nodded in understanding.

  “Xzion, I will be leaving in the morning to ensure that Zachary is safe and sound. Our foot soldiers are already in the streets, as you know, surveying the area. We’ve lost one soldier thus far, a Yuledrake killed him; however, everyone else is spoken for. Reports are that they are everywhere, and the Morphitians are also here. Jayme, I understand, according to Xzion, that you will be preparing your police department for this evening. I presume you will keep the hysteria down to a workable level.”

  “I’m well ahead of you, Aton. They’d institutionalize me if I told them the truth. I have a different plan. I have it under control.”

  “Very well.” He smiled at her, and it seemed sincere, taking Jayme and Xzion off guard. “Your son is going to be safe, he is going to be okay, I promise you. We all guard him with our lives.”

  Jayme’s eyes glossed and she patted Aton’s hand, no doubt thankful for the encouraging words. She dropped to her knees, placed her palms on the pod and kissed the tiny glass where she could see her son’s big, gleaming eyes. Xzion followed, the frozen ground crunching under his weight. He placed his palm against the glass too, as Jayme leaned her head on his shoulder, and he heard her crying softly against him. Wrapping his arm tightly around her, he continued to stare at their son, smiling at him.

  Suddenly, he was yanked out of the moment. A distinct odor filled the air once more, this time a bit stronger than before. He looked around frantically, but nothing out of the ordinary was in sight. He swallowed heavily, paused and looked into the shrouded woods around their house, then jumped to his feet.

  “Is something wrong, Xzion?” Aton asked from a short distance behind him.

  He shook his head as he continued to preview the scene.

  Nothing seemed out of place, but something sure smelled rotten. He looked over his shoulder at Aton, then back down at Jayme.

  For Christ’s sake! I have to go through with it now, even if I don’t want to. I haven’t completely thought this out, but I have to complete this. This is a prime opportunity…

  Xzion fell back to his knees and peered at his child. He took a deep breath.

  “I love you, Zachary,” he began. “Everything is going to be okay.” He paused and cleared his throat as he looked into the wooded area, a snarl on his face that he had trouble erasing.

  “Son, I’ll see you soon.”

  The boy nodded and the two rose and stood back from the pod. One Intellect Soldier approached and opened the pod, entering it. He placed his helmet on and strapped himself inside of the contraption. Without another word, he started it up and they all watched as it gathered momentum, like a small plane, then jolted faster than lightning into the atmosphere, until it was no longer able to be seen.

  “Oh my God!” Jayme screamed out, her tone a mix of sorrow and amazement.

  “It’s fast. He’ll be there in no time.” Aton grinned up at the star-studded night.

  “They have a room already prepared for him and he will be treated like Zarkstormian royalty, because he is.” And with that, Aton disappeared back into their home, closing the back door behind him.

  ****

  Vex struggled to stay in disguise as his excitement reached a fever pitch. The night had once again proven to be his favorite mistress, not only because she helped feed bad dreams, but she cloaked all the things that went bump in the night and caused madness to brew whenever she cast her black cape over the skies. This time, she brought him an invaluable gift…a Zarkstormian pod had just flown into the air and if you blinked, you would have overlooked it. But he hadn’t, nor had he missed, in the near distance, the sight of Xzion bent low, the man’s hand grazing the damn thing. The choked up, sorrowful voice of the Warrior was music to Vex’s ears. The lyrics to his sad song were even better…

  “…Son.”

  “Magnificent! Xzion has a child! Who would believe such a thing? The boy is not the bastard offspring of the human woman, after all. That is their child… Though it seems impossible, it must be true!”

  Vex could hardly contain himself. He now had a good to sell Jatorn, before it was all said and done. He’d found the second gift! Now, for certain, he’d make that fiend get on top of the antivirus, for Vex had a bargaining chip, a dog in the fight. With the Yuledrakes’ scientific intelligence and the Morphitians’ undercover prowess, he’d be unstoppable. Then, he could take over Zarkstorm, and finally have the creatures that tried to historically police the behaviors of others, in the palm of his hand. He’d had a healthy respect for Zarkstorm for centuries, all of his people had, but their minds were a forecourt he needed so desperately to explore. No one believed they even had nightmares, but that was untrue; all living creatures did, and Vex wanted to be the cause of many for them…

  He stepped backwards, let himself become swallowed into the recesses of the night, blending in with the trees that surrounded the vast, sprawling ranch-style home. He reached into the pocket of the itchy coat and pulled out his special phone, a small black box with exceptional coding.

  “Jatorn, I understand you’ve having a bad day. Well, perhaps the news I have
for you can be your living dream come true…”

  ****

  Jayme sighed as her officers walked away and did as instructed, but not without looks of confusion and audible grumbles. It had been a grueling day. She stood there fighting her own emotions, trying to push the image of her only child being carted off into space out of her mind. That however proved to be impossible. She literally pinched herself, finding it hard to believe things had gone this far. She had no guarantee she’d ever see him again, only Aton’s word, and right now, she trusted no one, barely her own self.

  Captain Jasper had given her a look of disbelief after she’d busted through the doors and corralled everyone in the quarters, demanding they leave the streets for a quick yet crucial meeting. Mayhem ensued, and she needed to explain the mess in some coherent way to get her officers to do what needed to be done…to not be afraid and face their fears. Jayme demanded ten minutes to give them something they needed, something for their very own survival.

  She told them point blank: do not hesitate to shoot anyone that is attacking another. She had the backing of the government, but more importantly, she put faith in herself at least in this endeavor. Her theory, and she could barely swallow the lie herself despite it being more plausible than the truth, was that a dangerous cult was trying to gain dominance all over the world, and they were in Baltimore for political reasons. She assured that she had insider intelligence, although nothing she yelled was in protocol; matter of fact, her vigilante stance and everything she uttered was all wrong. Captain Jasper knew it, but her eyes pleaded with him, and her mouth soon followed. Moments before the meeting, she’d cornered him in his office, begged the man to please allow her some room to move, a chance to address what had taken the city by storm. He stated he had to call the Chief to get approval for such a ‘shoot and ask questions later’ plot, but in lieu of the ghastly murders in the city, hesitation hadn’t been anyone’s friend.

  To keep up appearances, he argued with her, told her if she continued, she would be on administrative leave. But she kept on pushing, telling the man that he and his family and everyone’s loved ones were in danger. All she wanted to do was have the guys be more forceful, and show them a new gun that was issued from their military. It was a lie, but the scheme was backed up by the ones that mattered. This was about survival; there was no room for any other discussions.

  Captain Jasper remained hesitant, so she pushed a bit harder.

  “All one needs to do Captain is turn on the news. I’m not asking anyone to kill innocent people. You know my instinct is good. When have I ever led these men and women astray? If I’m wrong, we lose little but if I’m right, we may lose everything…”

  Then she presented the box of goods…weapons these men had never seen before. She explained quickly that a Glock upside the head was sometimes more efficient than a misguided bullet in the wrong place. No, she wouldn’t tell them that the bullets from their standard guns wouldn’t work quite as well but she would arm them appropriately. Soon, they were outfitted with the new guns. She was relieved that many of them had similar functionalities to the revolvers the officers carried. Xzion ensured that he ones he gave her looked similar. However, the bullets were an entirely different entity…that was where the secret lay. It was no ordinary bullet, made out of titanium. Oh no…these had a special internal chamber that would rip a Yuledrake to shreds. Even if not shot in the ribs, it still would render a mighty blow. That still left the Morphitians and Lyalts… Luckily, there were far less of them, but they were just as dangerous, if not more so.

  Jayme glared at herself in the smudged mirror that hung on the back of her office door. Strapping her guns to her body, she worked up her damn nerve and stomped her foot, to ensure that her extra blade was still in the sole of her black boot. She watched herself as she pinned her hair up, almost not recognizing the woman before her. She’d gotten word as she left her home that night, that the president had sent troops out into the streets as well to help watch over the city. Of course, the American people didn’t know this, but Aton did, and he made sure she was aware of it. They were dressed like civilians, so as to not rouse the masses into further panic, but they were there, and they’d been properly trained by Zarkstormian Warrior soldiers at the compound.

  I don’t know what you think you came for, Yuledrakes, Morphitians and Lyalts, but you are going to leave with something far different. Weakness is not in my vocabulary. And trust me, I am fluent in the art of the war. Never separate a mama from her baby. You’ve aroused my inner beast, and it is far scarier than the Lyalts ever were. Welcome to my world, motherfuckers…

  She removed one gun from her holster, checked the bullets, cocked and loaded…and off she went into the streets, to become all that she could be…

  ****

  The toothpick twirled like a ballerina spinning off her axis out the side of Lorenzo’s mouth. He sat in the electric tape covered booth of the ribs and soul food joint, Savory’s, on Holbrook street in Trinidad, a place where Preacher may as well have been crowned mayor. He sighed, picked up his glass of water and took a thoughtful sip as he kept his toothpick teeter tottering just so. He’d spent the last few days gathering information and keeping his ear to the street. He kept a low profile, but was relieved to be out of that damned hotel and back home. Running his hands nervously together, he finally admitted to himself he’d hit a brick wall.

  The man that killed his brother refused to show his fucking face. People shrouded in dark clothing came and went from the odd-shaped dwelling — a massive ranch house flooded in blue lights. He was unable to tell who was who. He debated bringing in help — putting a bounty of his own on the man’s head, but then, he’d have loose ends once again to tidy up and he was not in a ‘spring cleaning’ sort of mood. To make matters worse, his business in New York was hanging on by a damned thread. He’d been negligent with his dealings while in D.C., and it seemed he needed to make a trip to Brooklyn to check on his ladies, his property and his money. Nevertheless, this issue right here was putting a damper on him. Every time he figured one angle out, another one popped up.

  He couldn’t take the chance of someone linking him to the chain of events, or messing up his plans to avenge his brother’s death. Worse yet — he now had to contend with the fact it all went deeper than that. He came to that realization once that informant’s body hit the water and he drove off, the fog surrounding him in its fuzzy arms and the cool night breeze giving him the kiss of death in appreciation for a job well done. He’d had a nightmare about Centipede; that whole sordid situation really messed his head up, but what could he do? Centipede would have squealed if someone offered him a decent price for a lead. He wouldn’t have been able to help himself, that’s what addicts do.

  “You want some more, baby?” A chocolate-skinned woman asked, her cropped natural hair haloing a round face framing large, open eyes, despite her hefty cheeks pushing up on her bottom lashes like fleshy, ruby mounds.

  “Nah, I’m good, Charlene.” He shoved his half eaten plate away as if it disgusted him and dabbed at the sides of his mouth, removing a smidgen of dark, sticky sauce. After the clanking of his plates dissipated and the waitress carted them away, he turned back towards the window and people watched. The open market for drug dealing was truly amazing.

  Even though the streets were wet with fresh fear from the strange killings, it appeared many people still conducted their business as usual, but there was a definite drop in the prime-time population. The ones that stayed were milking a cash cow until the damned thing was dry and coughing dust, taking advantage of a lucrative opportunity. More demand, fewer dealers, prices soared — it was the American monopoly way.

  His thoughts drifted back to Xzion Khrome. No one had heard of him; no one could truly describe him. He found that to be more than peculiar. The man had murdered thousands of people, possibly millions, yet, he was still considered vague. There were no photos of him, nothing, only a description from the informant and a stack of paper
s with the word Zarkstorm and secret meetings at the White House. Lorenzo’s ground roots research had broken in half like a twig, and then it dawned on him. The men walking around that home were probably keeping this fucker in protective custody. He tapped his chin and narrowed his eyes while shadowy figures glided past the window, to and fro, blending in with the frosty, dismal landscape. He balled a sauce-covered napkin in his hand, squeezed it tight and exhaled. This was harder than he’d imagined, but one thing Lorenzo prided himself on was patience. He had the endurance to stay the distance, even when others threw in the towel. He pulled out his plane ticket to New York from his pocket and glared at it. He’d be leaving in the morning, but he’d be back soon. The time away, he figured, would allow him to really get to the meat of the issue, and settle this once and for all.

  A new strategy was underway, and right there, sitting at that table, inside the depths of his complicated mind, he’d figure it out. Piece by jagged, bloody piece, he’d figure it out all right…

  ****

  Xzion wiped the thick, splattered blood from the tip of his boot. Five freshly dead Yuledrakes framed his body like flesh art, lying haphazardly over top of one another, their bodies divided in halves from the ribs and covered in their own shimmery gore. Against the graffitied brick wall, under a tilted lantern with melting, jagged icicles dripping onto flaxen hair, was a half dead Yuledrake, hanging on by nothing more than stretched flesh. A spike jammed in his neck fixed him to the wall like a flag as he thrashed and gnashed his ghastly sharp teeth. In the faint distance, from a bar, a Christmas tune played. Bing Crosby sung to all within listening range, “Siiiiilver Bells…Siiiiilver bells…”

  Xzion ran his tongue over his upper teeth, mulling over the information he’d just been given. He thought he had more time. Mother Life wasn’t playing fair and he wanted her to fuck off. His acute hearing picked up muted screams as feet pounded and beat the pavement in nearby alleyways and secret coves. The streets were alive with delicately delivered delirium, murders that would be discovered in the early winter’s dawn.