by Zac Strong
“We noticed an insidious change in him during the last weeks of it. He began asking questions. Questions that introduced blasphemy into our great community. The type that no man should ask without punishment. We prayed for him, prayed to the Giver to give him freedom from temptation and to the Taker to take the evil from his clouded mind, but we were too late. With every passing day he fell further and further into depravity until one evening he went too far. I woke that night to the smell of smoke. Following the scent through the temple, I found the source of it emitting from Rome’s chamber. He was nowhere to be found. The room was empty, except for his trinkets, one engulfed in fire. My heart broke for him. How could he commit such evil after everything the gods have done for him? I doused the fire that had already spread to his bed linens. His fire-starter was melted too severely to decipher, but I knew it was his. No one else would dare attempt this.
“When we found him, he acted as if he was unaware of his sins – a sin in and of itself. He insisted on his innocence, but his wicked lies fell on deaf ears. We used a rope to bind him, offering him as a sacrifice to the Taker. But the Taker refused our offering. That day and every day after. His punishment for his transgressions has not yet been fulfilled. He remains a symbol of obedience to the gods still tied to the same post today.”
His words send my skin crawling. Adrenaline floods my system, like ice water in my blood. My eyes find the door leading to freedom opposite of the old man in front of me, but my legs remain planted. Athan was right. These people are bat-shit crazy.
“You know, the gods could use a set of strong hands in the greenhouse, Brother...”
“It’s Eros, and this is Athan. Of course, I can help. It would be an honor,” I reply desperately trying to maintain a sense of tact. Our survival depends on it.
“And, as for you, young man; we don’t typically see many children in Cau. How about you help the gods in the kitchen until dinner is ready? I’m sure we can find something for you to do there.”
Athan cuts his eyes towards me nervously as he reluctantly agrees.
Odd that the will of the gods and the will of Elder Thestor are seemingly inseparable. I’m sure that’s just a coincidence.
“Dinner shouldn’t take too long. When you hear the bells, you are to immediately stop what you are doing, and retire to the dining chamber next door.”
Following the direction of the elder, I stagger towards the main exit of the temple. Looking back, I notice Athan staring at me. The look on his face begs me not to leave him, but I don’t think there is another way. Every part of me just wants this nightmare to end. My body yearns for my bed’s comfort. My stomach turns, but I’m not hungry.
The temple door is much heavier than I expected. Large black strips of bolted metal reinforce it on both sides. It opens as a gust of hot, desert air slaps me in the face, stealing the breath right out of my lungs. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the brightness. As they correct, I see him. The man Athan and Elder Thestor spoke of, Rome. His blood-dried hands are bound behind his back. The splintery wooden post his arms and legs are tied around is the only thing keeping him upright. “Betrayer” is barely legible on a sign above his matted, auburn hair. His clothes are ripped and bleached from the sweltering sun. Through the holes, his ribs stretch. He doesn’t even look up as I pass by him. He’s accepted his fate. Beaten, this is his life now.
If the gods do exist, this is not what they would have wanted. If so, then they are no gods I want to associate myself with, much less worship and adorn. No loving god would torture its children or be able to stand by and passively watch.
The makeshift greenhouse stands just a few hundred meters from where its maker suffers. The rusty door swings open and I immediately begin searching for anything I can use as a weapon. The temperature inside is at least twenty degrees warmer. The air is thick and nearly unbreathable. I’m light-headed after a few seconds as sweat leaks continuously from every pore and place in between.
A tarnished piece of pipe lies in the sandy dirt next to a plant that’s seen better days. Rows of various vegetables and herbs, neatly aligned and spaced, stripe the dirt from wall to wall. Above, dangles the remnants of an irrigation system with water dripping from the holes of the few pipes left hanging.
I tuck the steel piece into my pants and pick up the shovel leaning on the greenhouse glass to give the illusion that I’m working just in case anyone walks by. I don’t trust these people. I’m not taking any chances.
Palin relentlessly plagues my thoughts, corroding them like acid dripping onto the sandy nothingness. Sometimes I look down and forget I’m not him anymore. I feel so bad for him. Maybe he was right. Maybe life is nothing more than a series of brief happiness and heartbreak between meaningless events. It’s not fair. I’m not sure it was even worth it.
After an hour I’m completely drenched in sweat. My mind is spiraling out of control with guilt and discomfort. The heat is unbearable. I’m not sure I can take much more of this. No wonder dude tried to burn this place down.
Suddenly, the ground begins to gently tremble. The dirt castle I just finished collapses on itself. The entire greenhouse is trembling as a screw from the bracket above falls through the dust, hitting my shoulder on its way down.
Curiosity leads me outside. The familiar roar from the shuttle’s engines brings me to a smile. My upgrade zooms in just before the shuttle lands out of sight. It’s undeniably Olympian. Our ticket out of here just arrived. That trader isn’t leaving unless we are on that ship.
After making a retinal note of where the shuttle landed, I sneak out of the greenhouse to get Athan, passing a stable of diseased and tumorous livestock. This place is a nightmare. I can’t leave him here. There will be no blood on my hands.
Careful not to be seen, I approach the backside of the temple in the direction he took Athan. Crouched and silent, outside an open window, I listen. Voices exit the window, but no sign of the boy. Creeping past another set of open windows on the building adjacent to the dining hall, I quietly crack the door open. The room inside is vacant, occupied only by a series of repurposed machinery aligning the moldy walls. My fingers find what looks like a former bioprinter. Its outer shell is removed. Electronics I don’t recognize are attached to its components with long coiled wires connected at both ends.
I continue down the hall as soundlessly as possible. My eyes search every room and crevice in this place, but no sign of Athan anywhere. As I approach the end of the narrow hallway, a dented metal door stands boldly between me and my frantic curiosity. I reach for the silver handle speckled with flakes of rust, unsure of what awaits me on the other side.
The handle turns.
The latch retracts.
Church bells blast my ears from above with a deafening ring that sends me leaping out of my skin. I jerk the door open and sprint into the dark room.
The door closes on its own. My eyes bounce anxiously, but it’s too dark to see anything.
After a few seconds, I manage to catch my breath as my vision begins to adjust. Like a blind man, I pat the walls in search of the light sensor.
Found it. The lights flicker, unnervingly humming on command.
“What the…?”
Hooks and chains dangle from the exposed metal rafters. Blood, still dripping, falls to a puddle around the drain embedded into the concrete floor. Resting on top of metal tables, an assortment of red-stained knives and mildewed cleavers.
Helpless, I feel my heart drop deep into my stomach. Breathing instantly becomes more difficult. Only rapid, short, and shallow breaths. My thoughts are spiraling too quickly for me to pull myself together. I’m about to pass out.
A hand touches my shoulder from behind. I nearly snap my neck turning around so quickly. An elder I haven’t met stands between me and the only exit out of this… this place.
“What are you doing in here?” asks the old man cloaked in his weathered robe.
I can’t speak.
Paralyzed in the
grip of silent panic, wet eyes dilated, I stare.
“What have you done?” I manage to stutter. The words clinging to my shivering lips.
The elder looks at me baffled. “Do you not hear the bells? Stop meddling in the butchery and report to the dining chamber at once,” he barks. His accent is like Elder Thestor’s, but less raspy.
“The butchery?”
“Where else would you prepare the meat for dinner?”
My shoulders ease. A wave of relief washes over me like a cool breeze. A smile cracks across my face, flushed with embarrassment. Wait until Athan hears about this. On second thought, he is never going to hear about this. After everything that’s happened the last few days, I think I can let this little mix-up slide for the sake of sanity.
The cranky elder escorts me to the doors of the dining chamber. They open to a massive room with a long, painted table in the center. Grand pillars of stone stand gallantly along the sides of the room holding a ceiling so captivating I almost forgot I wasn’t in Olympia. Fragments of gold and silver sprinkle across the two stone giants carved into the dome top. The table, equally as beautiful, is cloaked in its own masterpiece. Dozens of chairs on all sides. Every seat is taken except one.
If it weren’t for the art, the room would remind me entirely of death. Every one of them wearing that same cold look. Old men, all similar, but minutely different, slouched in their chairs. One drooling and asleep. Another rocks back and forth, hunched over his plate. Their bloodshot eyes pull towards the ground. Their spotted hands tremble. Where are all the women? Why does every one of them have the same angry face?
I nervously shuffle to the empty chair and sit, feeling every eye on me. No sign of Athan anywhere.
At the head of the table is Elder Thestor. He’s staring right at me as he stands to speak.
“Let us pray,” he demands.
Every head bows in cult-like unison.
“We give thanks to the Giver, who has rightfully cursed this wicked world until she returns to her maker's graces, begging for their forgiveness. We give thanks to the Taker, whose love punishes those who transgress against us. Lords, lift us with mercy. Cover us in your blood. Save us from your eternal damnation so that we may continue to serve you. No sinner shall escape your punishment. No commandment shall be questioned. We may not know what sins the child committed, but we have received your mark. We have absolute faith in you and your pl–“
“Where in the fuck is he?” I shout, slamming my fist against the table. Rage dripping off me, I stand. “Where is Athan!?”
“The boy is cursed! I’ve seen it myself,” shouts Elder Thestor slamming his cane to the floor.
“Where. Is. The boy? I’m not going to ask again.”
My fingers wrapped white around a metal fork.
“His wounds have healed! Not even Olympian food works that quickly! It’s obvious he’s been cursed by the Taker! He must suffer his punishment!”
I push down one of the old men trying to subdue me and burst out of the doors. Sprinting across the town, behind the greenhouse, my eyes spot what I didn’t want to be true. What have they done to you?
He sees me and starts to squirm. His mouth’s bound. His arms and legs are tied behind a new post erected a fairly good distance from Rome. An empty third post stands between them. I loosen the fabric around his mouth as my ears catch the elders shouting from the dining hall.
“A knife! There’s a knife on the inside of my boot! Hurry!” he pants.
I reach inside his boot and feel the knife sheathed against his leg.
The sunlight reflecting off its blade blinds me for a second, as I bring it a little closer.
I’ve seen this knife before.
Its black blade is still as sharp as I remember it. Its handle still wrapped blue with rope, frayed, and weathered now.
“Where did you get this?” I ask stricken with shock.
I’m sucked back to Palin’s apartment. Kalli’s here. She smiles, hands me the knife. Tells me she’s about to blow my mind.
“Cut me free now!” Athan shouts hysterically.
We’re running out of time.
I quickly cut the ties and turn him around. My eyes stare directly into his.
“Where did you get this knife?”
He senses the seriousness in my tone.
He squints, tears dripping down his face.
“My mother gave me that knife,” he says without hesitation.
“Her name.. What’s her name?”
The world around me sways.
The sun burns hotter. The light, more blinding.
“Her name was Jacee.”
My entire world shatters into a million tiny pieces.
“And your father?” I plead.
The elders are surrounding us.
“He, um.. died before I was born. My mother told me he died protecting us, protecting our home. His name was Palin.”
I fall to my knees. It can’t be.
“Did you know him?” ask Athan.
I manage to utter a reply, “Kind of… It’s complicated.”
“You dare defy the will of the Gods?” asks Elder Thestor hobbling towards us. His eyes angry, burning with zealous wrath. A dozen or so elders appear beside him. He pulls out the gun I had at 34 and points it at me. He must have found it at the crash.
“Seize them both!” he orders.
Two of the able elders charge us at once. The first grabs Athan’s arm. My heart’s thrashing out of my chest, like an internal explosion unable to escape. The pressure keeps building, like a jet engine igniting in my brain. Impulses conflicting, clarity forgotten, the entirety of me is seized like an unoiled machine.
The knife in my hand slides into the elder’s chest. I didn’t even have time to think about it.
The others pause. They watch as their brother falls lifeless to the sand, blood pouring from an open wound in his chest.
Elder Thestor points his weapon and pulls the trigger.
Nothing happens. It’s empty. I spent the last of the rounds on Lethe droids.
They begin to backpedal subtly. A few of them take off running towards the temple. Elder Thestor stands wordless.
My eyes find Rome’s, hopeless and meek. We can’t leave him here. No one deserves this. Athan and I swiftly cut him down. I toss him over my shoulder, promising death to anyone who dares to try to stop me.
The remaining elders silently part, allowing the three of us to make our way towards the trade ship. The augmented GPS of my retinal upgrade leads us straight to where I saw it land.
We timidly approach a grizzly man in the middle of running a diagnostic check on his shuttle. The dark brown hair flowing from his head rests well below his shoulders. His face, strong and defined, with features molded from granite. His hands are streaked with grease from the engine. They tighten their grip on the wrench he wields as he shifts his attention to us.
“This yours?” I ask openly.
He nods. Pulls the bandana from his face.
“The name’s Griffin. What can I do ya for?”
His eyes scan us thoroughly. Upgraded, undeniably Olympian. Southside accent.
“We need a ride. Like, fast.”
“Nothin’ in life’s free, mate.”
“I can pay you anything you want when we get back to Olympia. Name it and it’s yours,” I plead.
He scratches his tousled beard for a second, unamused. “That’s not really how this works.”
I glance at Athan without answer. This is our only way out of this place.
“Here. Take it. This is one of a kind. You’ll never find another like it.” Athan grabs the knife from me and instantly finds himself looking down the warm barrel of a Molon blaster.
“Slowly,” Griffin suggests.
Athan cleans the blade with his shirt and offers it to Griffin carefully.
The pilot inspects it, holding it up to the sun for a few seconds. “Sorry bout the drama, but ya can’t be too careful in uncertain times like
these. I know a collector that lives past the Outlands, a former Olympian. Has an unhealthy kink for tha unique.” Griffin tucks the knife into his jacket. “I’ll fly ya on one condition. Don’t touch a damn thing. Nothing. There won’t be another warning.”
We cautiously agree and strap ourselves in with transport straps dangling from the sides of the shuttle’s cargo bay. Three large pallets of covered freight are single file between us.
“This is gonna get me blacklisted in Cau, but fuck ‘em, bunch of nutjobs anyway. Um.. What’s wrong with that one? Looks like he’s been ridden hard and put up wet?” asks Griffin.
“Yeah.. We found him like that.” Rome appears to still be out of it. I’m not sure if he remembers who he is or how to human. At least he’s free, I guess.
Athan’s sweating bullets. He’s even more nervous now than earlier, tied to a post and gagged.
“You ight, little one?” asks Griffin, lifting on the throttle. “First time flying or somethin’?”
Turbulence beats on the belly of the shuttle.
“Yeah… Well, first time alive,” replies Palin’s son, clutching his straps as we take off over the black sand.
“Two conditions, then. No puke in my shuttle.”
Chapter 15
The sight of the Olympian skyline leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth. The glass metropolis stretches far into the evening sky. The city itself, a shimmering monument to human evolution and our relentless determination. I’m certainly thankful to be home, away from the nightmares that dwell outside, but now I must face the monsters within.
“Lethe has reinforced the lock-down after another bombing,” warns Griffin, piloting us through the almost transparent forcefield doming over Olympia, an electromagnetic barrier with holographic receptors. There’s no getting in or out without Lethe knowing about it now. This is the first time they’ve ever deployed it. I still remember when they installed the field projector at the top of Lethe Tower centuries ago. Things must be getting bad here.
“It’s absolute bullshit too. Of course, Lethe is blamin’ Kronos for the assassination attempt, but they’re tryna spin the whole thing into an excuse for more security for the people. Nobody with any sorta wits is fallin’ for that candy-coated crock of shit. We aren’t that blind or stupid. Lethe will say about anything to save their ass, and some people are dumb enough to believe it. I mean from the folks I know with Kronos, they wouldn’t hurt innocent people. They’re better than that.”
