Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1)

by Matthew S. Cox

  A tenor voice fell over her from behind. “You all right, girl?”

  She lifted her red-ringed eyes at a black man in his later fifties. He was as skinny as she, dressed in a dark blue jumpsuit, with highlights of white in his hair and beard. A word upon a white patch at his breast had been drawn to resemble a speeding boxy vehicle.

  “Don’t look like you’re doin’ too well there. You need any help?”

  There was someone in this place with a heart. She jumped into him and cried from joy. He did not even cringe away from her smell.

  The sound of his voice made her feel better. “Hey now. What’s your story?”

  She wiped her face with both hands, but could not talk right away. After a few tries, she swallowed the lump. “I was kidnapped and I’m trying to go home.”

  “Oh my.” He took her hand. “Did they make you take some kinda drug?”

  “No.” She thought for a moment. “Are you asking because of my eyes?”

  He nodded.

  “Please don’t be afraid of me… I’m sigh-onic.”

  “Oh, I see.” He patted the back of her hand. “Well, even psionics need to be wit’ their folks. Come on now… let’s get you to the police then. They’ll be able to help you.”

  She bounced. Holding hands, she walked with him for a little more than a block when he stumbled to a halt. When she looked up, his face had frozen in a mask of shock and he clutched his chest.

  “Sit,” she whispered, searching his life-shapes for what was wrong.

  He complied; she felt his pulse racing faster and faster out of control. Something reached into him from outside, making his brain overwork the heart.

  It was easy for her to set it right, but the man had passed out. Althea gave him a mental poke to wake him. When she stood, six young men appeared out of the crowd walking towards her, one of whom stared with intense concentration on the older man.

  “Okay, Prophet, this is getting tiresome.” A man with a vest full of guns tossed a fluff of cobalt hair to the side.

  She did not want to risk harm to the nice man. Without hesitation, she bolted into the nearest alley. The clamor of their pursuit echoed off the walls. She paid no attention to their orders to stop, and did not believe their promises not to harm her. An involuntary yelp came from her as her next step missed the ground. Flailing, she looked down at the metal tiles falling away as she rose into the air. No single point of contact touched her. An overall sense of pressure enveloped her as she ceased moving forward and hovered towards a building.

  “Nice catch, Donnie. Can you hold her still? I don’t wanna take that bony little foot in the nuts.”

  Althea craned her neck enough to look behind her. A man in a light grey suit held his arms out at her. Ripples in the strange force holding her still matched subtle changes in his facial expression. Others rushed over as the force pressed her into the wall. The sensation changed from lifting to crushing and it held her arms and legs still. Not even her finger was able to move. She screamed for help and begged them to let her go. A telempathic emanation of pity caused the force to weaken, and the metal wall slid against her cheek as she slipped an inch toward the ground. A hand went over her mouth and a familiar, high-pitched whine started up.

  She tensed just before the rain of fire swam across her back. Hundreds of tiny needles pierced her skin. This time, she felt them dissolving. This time, she knew what it was and refused to let it work on her. None of the men noticed the luminous chemical running down her leg, forced out of her body. Or, if they saw it, mistook it for a sign of terror.

  She closed her eyes and went limp.

  That’s better. I’m being taken. Things are back to normal.

  The strange force lowered her to the ground, and she let her body go where gravity took it. Hands rolled her onto her stomach and gathered her arms behind her back.

  No. No. Please… She did not realize she radiated her dread of being bound.

  “You sure you wanna do that?” A voice from the left.

  Someone standing by her head answered. “Ark will get pissed, wants us to be super nice to this one. She’s some kind of key to his master plan.”

  “You wanna explain to him why we lost her?” The voice came from right above her.

  “Dude… I shot a half-stick of sleepy time into her. What is she, seventy pounds? She’ll be out for two days.”

  “Yeah, man, come on. It feels wrong tyin’ a kid. Sides, you know how Ark gets when us peons disrespect the Awakened.”

  “Okay, fine, but if we lose her, I’m going to set your ball hairs on fire.” The man holding her arms let go.

  Another man spat. “Just get her in the damn van.”

  “Damn, this little bitch is fuckin’ rank. Where the fuck has she been sleeping?”

  “From the smell, I’d say your sister’s pants.”

  A hollow bell-like noise followed; she imagined someone’s face bouncing off a metal post.

  “Fuck you.”

  A kissing noise, lips smacked on empty air several times. “Your sister would.”

  Someone growled. Boots scuffed around for a moment.

  “Knock it the fuck off,” said a girl, who didn’t sound much older than Karina.

  “Yeah man, stinks.” The deep voice quieted them. “Put her in the back of the van. The very back.”

  An arm slid around her and one through her knees; she hung limp as someone picked her up. Her face slid against an armored vest, and she acted unconscious as they carried her. The heavy sound of a sliding metal door preceded the scratchy touch of automotive carpet. When the man who carried her moved away, she risked a peek at the inside of a van. Two voices outside on the left continued to argue about how to contain her in a way that would not make Archon upset with them.

  The man who made her float tapped at the controls from the driver’s seat, making lights come on. Taking a silent breath, she thought about how much she missed Karina and Father. She fixated on how sad she felt on the street corner. Her face contorted with emotion; she sat up and opened the floodgates, letting every ounce of her sorrow slam into him.

  He collapsed over the wheel and sobbed as if his entire family had died in front of him.

  She sat up on her knees and slapped at the glowing buttons by the door. Slapping became pounding; she shot brief glances over her shoulder at the men outside, and pounding became kicking. A chance swipe of her hand hit the right thing somewhere, and it slid open. A radiant telempathic burst of confusion left the others holding their heads and staring into space for a moment, and she took off. By the time they chased her again, she had gotten a two-block lead. Althea turned at random until the sight of a shimmering pink light beckoned her toward a way to solve two problems at once.

  Pausing long enough to be seen, she zipped around a corner and boosted her adrenaline as well as the muscles in her legs. Superhuman speed, no shoes, and steel sidewalk made her feet ache after four strides. She zoomed past the hologram to the top of a sunken stairway. Althea clung to the railing, half kneeling while she stole a few breaths and shuddered through the pain of overstressed muscles. As soon as they came into view, she waited for them to spot her and ducked into the dark, careful to avoid the strange line of light on her way down.

  A passage led from the stairs into a black and white maze of tubes and girders. She ran through an open corridor for a short distance before squeezing under a low-hanging tangle of pipes. Pulling herself along the ground, she belly-crawled under the mass of plumbing to the far end of the room and scooted deep in places where only she could fit until she found a hiding place against the wall with enough room to sit up.

  Motionless, she stared at the foreboding chair with the evil straps.

  Althea still had an awful feeling.

  uddled in the dark, Althea gathered her knees under her chin and glanced up at an evil silver sphere that swelled from the ceiling above the demonic chair. A dozen metal arms, studded with an assortment of horrible-looking sharp things sat poised
to inflict death. The bloodstained implements seemed to look right back at her, like a hungry animal appraising its meal. Cold concrete touched her back. She shivered, wondering how many died there.

  The raiders who had kept her ankles handcuffed together for fear she would run had a “doctor” with a similar machine. More than half the time he used it, it tore the patient to bits. While the senile old fool had not intended to hurt anyone, watching him laugh at explosions of blood and gore was too much to bear. By her memory, she would have been about eight or nine then. Her own voice echoed in her mind, yelling “go away.” He had gotten up from his desk and walked out. She never saw him again. This metal-armed horror seemed to be in better repair than the one at the raider camp, it had no visible rust, and at least four more arms. Still, such a device had no place attempting to help people. It looked sinister.

  Archon’s lackeys stumbled down the stairs. The area flooded with blinking lights and a loud blaring noise. They shouted, but she could not make out what they said over the clamor. Men came from deeper within and ran past her hiding spot, oblivious to the little figure covered by pipe-shadows drawn in flashing red.

  Gunfire erupted, interspersed with angry yelling. She trembled with each rapport, hating the violence. Two evils collided here; distasteful as it was, she tried to tell herself only good could come from this. When the sound of fighting reached full swing, she crawled out from under the pipes and slipped around a plastisteel wall to look for a rear exit.

  The inner hallway had rough metal gridding for a floor, too painful to run on. Holding her arms up in an effort to lessen her weight, she gingerly stepped to the first available turn. A splash of color on the wall offered the promise of daylight.

  When she rounded the corner, she froze at the sight of a massive shirtless man with two thick arms made of glinting metal. Black leather pants with armored plates on the thighs strained to contain his muscles. Tall plate-clad boots that seemed as if they would weigh as much as she did clanked to a halt. Metal covered the entire right half of his face, the eye on that side, an extending lens, glowed scarlet with mechanical light. His arms, proportionate to his size, gleamed; the image of a bodybuilder sculpted in charcoal-colored plastisteel.

  Wide-eyed, she backed into the wall, flattening herself against it in hopes he had not seen someone as small as her. The giant’s face tilted down, the eye-lens whirred, and long blades slid out of his hands, one per finger; each about nine inches in length. A mind whispered within the metal, thoughts simple―focused.

  Little pretty thing. Should not be here. Boss want make scream. Smash. Kill.

  The strength failed her legs and she collapsed to the ground in the corner, raising her hands over her face as if they would do something to stop such a creature from hitting her. Imminent death pushed her brain to a place it had never been before. Terror welled up from the deepest recesses of her soul and her mind lashed out with the only thought she had.

  Someone help me!

  Her mental scream staggered the oaf. His arms fell slack to his sides and he stared, unmoving, into space. A tendril of drool slid from his lip. Althea trembled on the floor, gazing up at him for a minute, too frightened to move. The gunfight continued in the distance; the sound of several shots in a row dispelled her hesitation and she slid along the wall to stand up. Tiptoeing to the side, she kept her eyes pinned to the unmoving beast of flesh and metal, edging around him to the hallway from whence he had come.

  She took two steps backwards before a blinding flash of pain struck her on the bare skin just above her skirt along her spine. Althea fell with such speed it seemed as if the air in front of her became the floor in an instant. Her arms and legs twitched out of control as the sound of an electrical buzzing crackled between her ears. The anguish overwhelming, her muscles refused to obey.

  “Well, well, well.” A high-pitched male voice rang out. “What have we here?” Someone clapped; a rapid staccato thing barely audible over her pounding heart.

  A hand hooked the back of her shirt and dragged her along the floor past the oaf, over the scratching metal ground, towards the evil chair. Now she understood the dire feeling; he meant to put her on it. The sight of restraints made her twitch with renewed determination, and he dropped her. Another touch of suffering came amid a crackling of sparks. Her scream squeezed out through a rigid jaw refusing to open, a primal sound of agony that foamed snot out of her nose.

  He brought her ever closer to the horrible contraption. She made a series of subhuman noises as she fought the paralyzing touch of whatever dreadful device the man in white had against her skin. It bit her again when her leg moved. Hot tears streamed down the sides of her head as the crackle sent wave after wave of disorienting misery through her.

  Soft leather embraced her; she lay on her back atop the chair. Bands of thick material cinched tight around her wrists and ankles, and crushed against her shoulders and then her hips. Sinister cackling came from the man in white with each secured buckle. A wrinkled bald head with one silver eye hovered over her face. His sweat ran off in drops, landing on her cheek. Althea glared at him, searching for her power, she ordered him to release her, but her voice did not come.

  “Such a pretty little throwaway. Almost a shame, really.” He drew a startled breath. “Such magnificent eyes. Glowing. Oh, this is truly a fortuitous find. I don’t know whether I should sell them or study them. I suppose I’ll have to wait and see if they keep glowing once they’re in jars.” He pushed his thumbs into her face so hard it hurt. “From the structure of your cheekbones, I can tell you’d have been quite beautiful. You’ll have to settle for being pieces inside someone rich and magnificent.” Before she could invade his mind, he ambled out of view over to some kind of machine.

  Images and feelings flooded into her from her contact with the chair. Pain, horror, screaming; many people had indeed died on it, alive long enough to see their insides removed. Feeling came back to her limbs, and she writhed, twisting in an effort to find him. Blue and red light shone down from the silver ball above her, sweeping back and forth over her immobilized body as the steel arachnid came to life. Its motion gave her voice back in the form of a scream as laser lines crawled up and down her skin. She could not get away from the horrible seat.

  Bullets whizzed overhead, clanging off the pipes above.

  The man in white leaned to his side and pushed something on a distant wall. After a beep, his voice echoed like a thing out of nightmare throughout the entire building. “Will you three simpletons watch where you’re shooting!”

  Althea quivered at the sound. “Please, don’t hurt me. I’m twelve. I’m just a little kid.” She radiated pity.

  “Twelve? Perfect! Just under the minimum age. Ooh, very nice. Looks like you’re in excellent health. Your kidneys will be worth about two hundred grand each, and that liver… Oh yes… Intact, disease-free ovaries!” He squealed with delight. “Millions!”

  Hot tears ran down the sides of her head. “Wait! I could be eleven, maybe ten,” she wailed and jerked her arms against the straps. “Everyone keeps thinking I’m ten. Maybe I just guessed wrong.”

  “Even better, child parts are much harder to find.” He fiddled with something on the console she could not see. “That’ll be worth double or more.”

  “No.” Her voice fell to mewling. “Please, I have a family.”

  “Do they know where you are?”

  “No, I’m trying to get home.”

  He giggled and clapped. “Excellent. Then they won’t find your bones.”

  “Please no… Why? Why are you doing this?”

  He paused, tapping a finger to his lip as he considered the question. “Well, you see… The perils of modern society often take quite a toll on the bodies of those who live to their fullest. Fortunately for me, these same people tend to have gobs and gobs of money. Now, when they go and turn their lungs into crystalline dust from too much Icewhisper or their indulgence in synthetic alcohol turns their liver into pudding, I find someone
like you. Some poor scrap that no one will miss, and take what they need. Don’t worry, child. It will only hurt for the first, oh, ten minutes.”

  “Karina and Father will miss me.” She could not peel her eyes away from the orb of death.

  “That is almost touching. Well, they should have thought of that before they let you run around the grey.” Something else beeped. “Now I just need to program in your measurements so Frankie here can convert that grubby little body of yours into money.”

  Althea twisted and pulled at her arms and legs. Barely able to move, she rolled her head to face the stairs, and shouted, “Help!”

  The rolling gunfight picked up intensity; a male voice screamed.

  The robotic arms whirred to life again, spinning, twisting, and clicking as calibration routines ran. Various small tools at their tips whirred and clicked. The man in white bounced up to the side of the table, sliding his fingers under the neckline of her shirt. He held up an enormous pair of scissors and smiled at the terror in her eyes.

  “Now, we just need to get these shabby clothes out of the way and we can begin the beautiful harvest.” He pressed on her abdomen, squeezed her leg, and forced her eyelid wider with his thumb. “Yes, yes. You are perfect.”

  The icy metal slid along her chest, its jaws opening around the white cloth.

  “No, I’m not. I’m malnurmished. I’m from the Badlands. I have all sorts of sick inside me that you’ve never seen before.” Althea stared into his eyes, tweaking at his emotion as he lifted her tank top. There was nothing in there to touch. This creature was broken. His emotions did not work. Her best defense was useless. The scissor started to close. The man in white gazed at her, eyes bulging from his head with glee.