Cultwick: The Wretched Dead

by J. Stone

  She placed the mechanical hand over Silas’ skull and squeezed, lifting his mostly limp body up, as she did. Blood squirted from his orifices, and the bone cracked underneath her grip. His body contorted and flailed, but after a few moments, she had crushed his head between her fingers, causing him to hang idly from her gore-covered hand.

  Fiona dropped his lifeless corpse on the ground next to the woman’s body that he had drained. Silas had delayed her visit to the Anointed Temple, but she knew that nothing stood in her way with him out of the picture.

  Chapter 27. Crowley and the Deal

  Councilor Crowley sat in his dimly lit office sorting through reports of the ongoing rebellion activity in the western cities, waiting for a development on the carrier plague treatment from his scientists. His desk was made from a hard, thick wood, and it had been custom built to his specifications. Everything in his office, in fact, was designed to meet his exacting needs, as he was a man who knew what he wanted and would do anything to acquire it.

  Eventually an attendant entered his office with a message. Without speaking, the young woman delivered Crowley a folded piece of paper. As she left, he unfolded the paper, and Crowley found a scribbled message:

  As you predicted, sir, the heretic, Erynn Clover, was located and picked up at a bioscanner barricade outside the director’s home. We have put her in interrogation room 17, where she awaits you.

  Commander Murdoch

  Crowley thought about what the clairvoyant, Simon, had told him about how to find Erynn, but he had not been entirely confident that his suggestion would be reliable. Since it had proved accurate, he thought perhaps there was more that Simon could be used for in the future.

  The councilor stood from his desk and walked to a closed and locked cabinet. Retrieving a key from his pocket, Crowley slid it into the lock, turned the handle, and opened the cabinet. Inside, there were a variety of secret and menacing items that he had collected during his time in office. Amongst the items was a small vial full of a soapy, white liquid that he had been given by Dr. Russell only a short time ago.

  Having collected the vial, Crowley locked back the cabinet and made his way to the interrogation rooms. Before entering the room, he went into the adjoining viewing area. Looking through the one-way glass and into the plain white interrogation room, he confirmed that the woman on the other side was indeed Erynn Clover, the escaped lottery winner, bank robber, and rebel. She sat in a hard metal chair, her short chains welded to the table in front of her. A smile crept its way across his lips, as he stared on at the woman that had caused such a headache for him and the empire.

  If Simon was correct about his predictions, Erynn would be needed to end the reign of destruction that Fiona had been subjecting the city to since her return. Though his desires in regards to what to do with her ran to a darker place in his mind, he would need her alive and well to accomplish his task, especially since the corpsman, Silas Skinner had failed to eliminate Fiona.

  Lying on a table were several of her things including a custom-built pistol and a series of syringes filled with a pink liquid. As a former research scientist, Crowley’s interest was piqued at the sight of the syringes, and he picked one up, holding it up to his face in an attempt to examine it. Along with the vial he had brought with him, Crowley entered the interrogation room and sat both glass tubes on the table in front of Erynn.

  Seating himself across from her he said, “Ms. Clover, we haven’t officially met, though I feel like I’ve known you for years. My name is--”

  “I know who you are… Councilor,” she replied from across the table.

  “Good, then that will speed things up,” he said. “Despite the things you have done and the people you have hurt, I don’t come here today to threaten or admonish you. Instead, I come here with an offer.”

  Crowley looked across at Erynn, noting her narrowing eyes and her attempt to understand him. He continued, “Fiona Newton. She was a terrible mistake by a man long since buried, but his mistake lingers in our world.”

  “Seems to me she’s just getting rid of your lot,” Erynn replied.

  “That does seem to be the case,” Crowley agreed. “For now, anyway. Nevertheless, what happens when she has infected all of us? Do you think her appetite will be satiated, or will she turn on you? It’s only a matter of time before she spreads to all of us. That’s why we must look past our differences and work toward the common goal of cleansing this world of Fiona Newton.”

  “Maybe I should just let her eat a little more first,” Erynn replied smugly. “Even up the numbers a little bit.”

  “You could do that, of course,” Crowley said. “Though, there would be nothing to prevent us from hurting that pretty little friend of yours.”

  “Pearl?” Erynn asked. “What have you done with her?”

  Crowley smiled and answered, “She’s safe, but that won’t last if Fiona is allowed to continue on with her rampage. And I may even be willing to hand her over to you if you cooperate with us.”

  “You’ll give me Pearl and let us both go if I help you?” Erynn asked.

  “That’s right, Ms. Clover,” Crowley replied.

  He allowed her a moment to think over the situation, and she eventually asked, “If I were to do this, what exactly would I have to do?”

  “The vial there,” Crowley said, indicating to the item he had placed on the table.

  “Yeah?” she asked. “What is it you and your amoral biojunkers have cooked up now?”

  “Our... transcribers,” he corrected her, “were able to sift through Dr. Norton’s notes, and we believe we’ve come up with a cure to the infection she spreads. Since you appear to have a special connection to the young woman, we want you to inject her with it.”

  “Why don’t you do it yourselves?” she asked.

  “Fiona has proven... difficult to get close to,” he replied.

  “And what? This stuff would kill her?” Erynn inquired.

  “No, it would simply sever her connection to the other infected,” he explained. “To you as well, I imagine.”

  “You certain it will even work?” she asked.

  “We’ve received positive results in a... trial setting,” he explained.

  “So, if you can reverse-engineer this thing you infected Fiona with, I take that to mean you could create another just like her,” Erynn stated. “What’s to stop you from creating an army under your control?”

  “I suspect Ms. Newton was an aberration of excessive experimentation,” Crowley explained. “It’s a wonder she survived as long as she did under Dr. Norton’s needle.”

  “You mean you tried and failed,” she said.

  “Regardless, you don’t have a great deal of leverage, Ms. Clover,” he continued.

  “It seems you need me,” she replied. “I’m going to go ahead and count that as leverage.”

  “Perhaps,” he began. “But just as you care for this... woman of yours, you should bear in mind all of Cultwick is in your hands.”

  “I suspect I care more than you do,” she replied. Following her comment, however, she doubled over, holding her stomach and groaning in pain. Her hand trembling, she reached for the syringe Crowley had brought into the room, but the shackles on her wrist restricted, leaving the vial just out of her fingers’ grasp.

  Crowley smiled and said, “Yes, I heard that you contracted the genotoxin. One of my creations, if you can believe it. Alice certainly was thorough in her endeavors wasn’t she? Who was it that pushed her from that train? You or Fiona? It’s been a matter of much speculation around here.”

  He leaned forward, ear first, feigning to wait for a response from her. Instead, she writhed in pain and continued to reach for the syringe.

  “No answer?” he asked. “Too bad. And what is this that you’re so interested in?” he asked, grabbing and holding up the syringe. “Some treatment your professor came up with?”

  Erynn gritted her teeth and vaguely nodded.

  “I could give you
this syringe, but I’m going to need a solid answer on your cooperation first,” Crowley explained.

  She glared at him, as beads of sweat dripped down her face.

  He continued, “I could, however, just let the genotoxin kill you in this room if you prefer. Not the way I’d want to go, but to each their own, I suppose.”

  With a great deal of effort, Erynn managed to yell, “Fine!”

  Crowley stood from his seat and slid the syringe across the table, just into her reach. He walked toward the exit to leave, but turned and said, “I’ll come get you when we’re ready.”

  She injected herself, as he opened the door. “I didn’t kill that psychopath,” she said. “But that wasn’t for lack of trying.”

  Once outside the interrogation room, an attendant approached Crowley. “The regent-empress is ready, Councilor,” the man said.

  “Very well,” he replied with a nod.

  In the empress’ absence, Viola had decided to hold a speech announcing what had transpired since Fiona returned to the city. She had asked him to assure the people that their empire would protect them and then to personally introduce her over the loudspeakers. He was still trying to learn what her goal in all of the chaos was, but he was determined to get out ahead of whatever it was. He had been scheming for years to get where he was; he wasn’t going to let one little girl get in his way.

  Crowley arrived at the base of the Sovereign Tower to find the broadcast operator, Viola, and her handmaiden Kyra waiting for him just off stage. A crowd had assembled beyond the announcement stage and was waiting for them to begin. The back of the stage went directly into one side of the tower, and the front exited onto a large courtyard where the people were gathering. At either side, there was a technician area, where the operators managed the broadcast throughout the city.

  “I just want to thank you for agreeing to do this, Councilor Crowley,” Viola said.

  “Of course, Regent-Empress,” he replied.

  The operator set up the microphone at the center of the stage, and Crowley walked across the stage to it. Viola watched every move he made, eyeing him with a level of confidence and self-satisfaction that baffled him.

  “Citizens of Cultwick, this is your Council Leader, Desmond Crowley speaking,” he began. “There has been much that has occurred to both the city and the empire on a whole in the past few days. I am here to address these events.

  “First. Yes, it is true that Empress Mary Elizabeth was infected with the carrier plague, and she is currently recuperating. Despite speculation that this disease is in some way related to the S.B.P., there is in fact no connection. As such, the lottery must continue in order for us to find a new cure to this virulent new disease. All advances in our society must come with great sacrifice, and the Cultwick Empire appreciates each and every one.

  “This plague is much more dangerous than what we have faced in the past. A carrier of this new disease cannot be trusted, and if you see an infected party, you are advised to keep your distance and alert a member of the Cultwick Corps. With that said, please allow me to introduce your Regent-Empress, Viola Arkmast the Second.”

  Crowley took a step back from the microphone, while Viola walked across the stage, joining him at the front of the crowd of citizens.

  “Thank you, Councilor Crowley,” Viola spoke into the microphone. “Greetings, my loyal citizens of Cultwick. Though I am currently only the regent-empress, I come to you today in attempt to start an open and honest dialogue. Everything Councilor Crowley has told you is true, however, there is more to the story that I want to illuminate.

  “Some of you may know the name Fiona Newton. Some of you may not. It is a name you should grow to know quite well, as her story is one of regret. Fiona was inducted into the Center for Empirical Research at a young age. She was granted the honor of helping to eliminate disease in our great empire, but things sadly went awry.

  “During her time in the C.E.R., Fiona was given a cocktail of experimental drugs. Since she escaped from the C.E.R., Fiona has gone on a rampage through the city. She is responsible for the attack on Bedlam Asylum, the attempt on my mother’s life, and more recently an assault on the C.E.R.

  “The combination of drugs that she was given have led to the carrier plague that now spreads throughout our city. The scientists responsible for Fiona were given full reign to do as they pleased with zero oversight, and this is what it has led to. I make this simple promise, going forward I intend to put in place the oversight system that is needed for a potentially dangerous system like this. I thank you for your time, dear citizens. Please know that I have your best interests in mind.”

  It was the word ‘I’ in the last sentence of her speech that Crowley found most alerting. It seemed a subtle way to distance herself from her mother’s regime and by association, him. Whatever her plans were, Crowley for the first time in many years began to worry.

  Viola and Crowley exited the stage, and she nodded to the operator, who cut the feed from the broadcast.

  “Thank you, again, Councilor,” she said. “I hope you said everything you needed to say.”

  Crowley nodded slowly and simply said, “Yes, Regent-Empress.”

  Kyra whispered something into Viola’s ear, and she smiled widely at hearing it.

  “I’m afraid I must leave you once again, Councilor,” Viola said.

  He nodded and the regent-empress and the handmaiden went back inside the tower. Before he returned to his office, yet another attendant approached Crowley and gave him a message.

  You will find Fiona on the Oasis on the Terrace

  N.

  Chapter 28. Isabelle and the Machine

  The room felt familiar yet distant, as she regained consciousness strapped into a hard, metal chair. Her head was throbbing, and her eyes took time to adjust to the bright light of the room. She still wore the emerald green dress that she had worn to the celebration earlier that night. In front of her stood three men - Owen, Deckland, and an unfamiliar man wearing a white lab coat.

  Seeing that she had awoken, Owen leaned forward and said, “You’re very sick, my dear. Dr. Webber here is going to try and make you better.”

  “What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” she asked, squinting her eyes at him.

  “Ugh, that repulsive accent is back again,” Owen remarked to the doctor. “Can’t you get rid of that thing already?”

  “This isn’t like the tattoos or dying her hair,” Webber explained. “I can’t simply burn it away or cover it up.”

  “Just get it done already,” Owen replied. “We’ve been here too many times. Finish it.”

  “Like I said,” the doctor continued, “There is something foreign in her system, something that is fighting the changes, building up a tolerance. Until I find it and expunge it, nothing I implant in her memory is going to stick.”

  Struggling to free her arms, Isabelle asked, “Yer implantin’ somethin’ in me?”

  After a heavy sigh, Owen asked, “Can’t you do something about that? I don’t want to hear her until she’s fixed.”

  From a table behind him, the doctor retrieved a syringe and absent-mindedly stuck Isabelle in the neck. After a few moments, her vision became blurry, and her head slunk into a daze.

  From the black void, two voices echoed in her head. They seemed to be talking about her, but she could not discern what the words were. Everything seemed disjointed. Stilted somehow. After a few minutes, the darkness was illuminated and the words were clear and audible.

  “Do you know the date?” a voice asked.

  “I… I…” she stammered.

  “The date,” the voice repeated brusquely.

  “I remember… winter…” she said.

  “Mmm,” the voice mused. “Not wrong but certainly hard to say one way or the other.”

  A man came around from behind her, eventually coming into focus as Dr. Webber. She realized at that point that the back of her head was numb, and that she was still strapped into the device, holding her firm
ly in place.

  “What are ya doin’ to me?” she demanded.

  “Where were you born?” Dr. Webber asked, ignoring her question.

  Struggling against her restraints, she replied, “What does that--”

  “Just answer the question,” he said.

  “Cultwick,” she answered.

  “More specifically,” the doctor said.

  “I… I don’t remember,” she realized. “What have ya done? Why can’t I remember?”

  “An excellent question,” Webber noted. “We’re going to have to keep digging to find out. Now, lastly, what is your name?”

  Struggling to come up with an answer that sounded correct, she eventually asked, “Isabelle? Or… is it Anne?”

  “We appear to be getting further and further away from the goal,” he said to himself. “If it’s not in her head… maybe it’s hiding in the blood.”

  Her mind began to spin, and things once again became hazy; but before she blacked out, she saw Dr. Webber retrieve an empty syringe and walk toward her.

  When she once again regained consciousness, Dr. Webber was seated at a workbench examining something under a microscope, and the back of her head was still throbbing. She let out a slight moan, as she tried to move in spite of the restraints, alerting the doctor to her awakening.

  “Ah, good news” he announced, turning to her. “It appears I have isolated the agent at work in your system that has been preventing you from succumbing to my programming. It won’t be long now before I develop a counteragent to override its effects.”

  “What are ya talkin’ about?” she groaned.

  “Never you mind,” he said. Dr. Webber then stood and walked around behind her. She heard a door open and close behind her, but could not turn her head enough to see. In his absence, she tried to work her hands free from the restraints, but they were latched very tightly. Halfway across the room she spotted a scalpel sitting on a rolling cart, but it was much too far out of her reach. Before she could try to do anything else though, Dr. Webber returned and stood in front of her with Owen. Behind her, she could hear breathing and felt an imposing presence.