by Sean Platt
Jesus. Is locking someone up not enough of a punishment? They have to torture him? If they tortured Carl, one of their own who happened to disobey “the law,” what the hell will they do to us?
Desmond swallowed, waiting for Rei.
Rei stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, out of sight, probably trying to make them anxious. He then descended the steps slowly, seeming to savor each step as if it were delivering a wound that he would be echoing soon enough.
“Tisk, tisk, tisk,” the weasel-faced fucker clucked as he stepped into view and walked up to Desmond, stopping just inches from his face.
“What have you done? Breaking our Laws? Shooting one of our Brothers? God don’t take kindly to acts of violence against your Brothers, Desmond.”
“I was trying to save Rebecca,” Desmond said, “Since nobody else seemed willing to step up. Or aren’t the lives of children as important here?”
“She was in God’s hands, and from the looks of it, she wasn’t dead, was she? Who do you think you are to step in and try to intervene in God’s plans? Do you think you’re above Him?”
Rei removed the belt from his pants and took his time winding it around his fist, as he spoke, “Answer me, Desmond, are you ABOVE the Lord Almighty?”
“It wasn’t God who put her in a box,” Desmond said.
Rei smiled, pulled the belt tight, then swung, hitting Desmond hard beneath his right ribcage.
“Fuck!” Desmond screamed as pain ripped through him.
“Ah, there it is, the Devil’s filth coming from your mouth,” Rei said, his eyes flashing a glimmer of hate as he swung again, this time hitting Desmond in his gut.
Desmond took the punch in silence this time, though the pain was no less acute. He would not give Rei the satisfaction of hearing his cries.
“No more filthy Devil words?” Rei asked, hitting him again in the gut.
Desmond winced as Rei stepped closer. “You’re a manly man, aren’t you Brother Desmond? You’re strong. You know everything, and all the ladies love you, eh?”
Rei punched him again, this time in the center of Desmond’s chest, emptying his wind.
“Stop it!” Luca shouted as Desmond gasped for breath.
Rei spun on the ball of his right foot, and raised a fist at Luca, “You want some, too, boy?”
Desmond didn’t want Luca taking his punishment. He called out to Rei, “Hey, pussy, you gonna hit a boy? Why don’t you take my chains off and we’ll settle this, just you and me, since you think you’re so tough?”
Rei turned back to Desmond, eyes on fire, just inches away from Desmond’s face. He reached down, grabbed Desmond by the balls, and squeezed tight.
Desmond cried out, unable to hold the pain inside, as Rei squeezed tighter and pulled. Rei’s little weasel mouth pinched in a tight, angry smile.
“All balls, eh, big boy?” Rei said.
Desmond spit in his face.
Rei’s face went bright-red as he wiped the spit away with his sleeve, and allowed the buckle to fall as the belt uncoiled from his hand like a whip.
Desmond braced for the whipping, but Rei turned instead to Luca, and swung, hard, hitting Luca in the head.
Luca screamed, blood seeping from a wound in his temple.
Rei turned to Carl, and whipped him, the buckle slashing Carl across the left cheek.
Rei took another swing, this time hitting Carl in the chest, then turned back on Luca and began lashing at him, leaving bright-red marks and dark trails of blood criss-crossing Luca’s chest.
Luca writhed in pain, crying out.
“Stop it!” Desmond screamed, as Rei kept whipping the boy, now on his sixth lashing.
Luca was in tears, begging Rei to stop.
“Please!” Desmond cried out, defeated, tears running down his face. “Please!”
Rei turned slowly to Desmond as he began to slide the belt back through the loops in his pants, “Don’t you ever disrespect me, or The Sanctuary, again, or I will bring your bitch in here next, and her child. And I’ll teach you to fear the Good Lord’s wrath.”
Rei punched Desmond a final time, under the left ribs, and Desmond wailed.
Rei spun around, pulled the chain dangling from the light fixture, and cast the room into darkness. He marched up the stairs, opened the door, then slammed it shut and locked it, leaving Desmond alone with his pain and the sobbing from Luca and Carl.
I will fucking kill you.
Sixty-One
Brent Foster
Milner, Georgia
March 24, 2012
Morning
Brent and Ed raced up the hotel stairwell as aliens exploded through the doors downstairs.
“You got a plan?” Brent panted, out of breath and trailing Ed, despite being almost a decade younger.
“Nope,” Ed said cooly, continuing until the stairs ended at the top floor, well lit by the skylight in the center of the hotel’s roof.
Before Brent could ask what they were doing next, Ed handed him his shotgun and was halfway up the ladder leading to the rooftop.
He waited below as Ed pushed the hatch open.
The echoes of aliens screeching, clicking, and clambering up the stairway made the stairwell sound like a living, breathing death trap of madness. Brent’s heart raced as he handed Ed’s gun back and started climbing the ladder.
Go, go, go, go!
He hoped to God he’d reach the top and close the hatch before the aliens caught up to him.
Brent hauled himself onto the roof and rolled out of the way as Ed glanced down with his shotgun, then softly closed the hatch.
Ed stayed down, surveying the shopping center parking lot. The hotel was the tallest building in the plaza at 12 stories high, and they were smack dab in the middle of the roof. If they stayed low enough, they wouldn’t be seen by the aliens that might still be in the parking lot.
“What now?” Brent asked, “Can they climb ladders?”
“Probably not, nor do I think they’ll realize we’re up here, unless they hear us.”
“And if they do?” Brent asked, “What then?”
“Then we hope we don’t run out of ammo before we kill them all.”
Brent pulled his pistol from his waistband and looked at it, wishing he’d thought to bring a rifle or shotgun before the kid stole their bag of weapons. There were five bullets left.
Fuck.
“Come here,” Ed said, “let’s get away from the door, so they don’t smell us. Step softly.”
Brent followed Ed toward a large room on top of the roof, which Brent figured was probably the utility room for the hotel. They leaned against the wall and waited for the roof hatch to pop open.
After an uneventful half hour or so, Brent broke the silence that had stretched between them, “So, how long until we can go back down there?”
“I dunno,” Ed said, “I’d wait until morning.”
“You want us to stay up here all day and night?”
“You got somewhere else to be?”
Brent sighed, and shook his head, now wishing he’d thought to bring some pillows and blankets with him, too.
“I’m sorry about the kid stealing our shit,” Brent said, even though he wasn’t sure why Ed was pissed at him. It wasn’t his fault that they were robbed.
Ed didn’t say anything, simply stared at the sky, deep in thought, or something.
“Where do you think the kid went? Think he’s still somewhere in the hotel?” Brent asked.
“If he is, he’s gonna need those weapons.”
“Maybe he came up to the roof,” Brent suggested, thinking that maybe he was in the utility room behind them.
“No, the hatch was locked from the inside. Nobody’s up here but us.”
“So, where the hell did he go? We would’ve seen him slip out downstairs, right?”
“Maybe he got past you and slipped out one of the other exits,” Ed said. “Why are you so worried about whether the kid got away? He stole from us. If th
e aliens don’t get him, I might go looking for him.”
“He’s just a kid,” Brent said.
“Yeah? And what if he decides to shoot us? Will you sit back and let him because he’s a kid, or will you fire back?”
“Fire back, of course.”
“Well, he may as well have shot at us by taking our weapons. If we stayed downstairs, we might have wound up dead. Or at least you would’ve been killed.”
“What do you mean I would have been?”
“You’ve got a shit gun, you’re slow, and you’re remarkably out of shape for a thin, young man. They would’ve gotten to you before me.”
“And you’d let them?”
“I’m not your babysitter. We’re working together, but if you can’t keep up, you can’t expect me to always bail you out. I’m looking out for me first. That’s the only way I can ensure my daughter’s safety.”
Brent said nothing. After all, what could he say? That Ed was being a big jerk? This was life now, and Ed was a no-nonsense, kick-ass soldier, spy, or whatever the hell he was prior to October 15. Brent would have to hold his own and hope to hell he could keep pace. That was his only chance of seeing his family again, assuming he and Ed could even get back to their planet.
Brent had assumed they could, that Ed had some idea how to get back that he wasn’t sharing. But now, on top of a hotel out in the middle of nowhere, he wondered why he’d allowed himself to believe that. It wasn’t as if Ed had said they could get back. It wasn’t as if Ed was a scientist or someone who even understood how they’d managed to get sucked over to a parallel world. Ed was a soldier simply following orders in hopes of keeping his daughter alive, and maybe, if the other girl was still alive, finding her.
What if the powers-that-be at Black Island were simply using Ed as a pawn? What if they had no idea how, or no desire, to deliver them back to their world? Besides, why would they? If their goal was to repopulate the planet and start over, that probably meant they needed everyone on the island. Why would they allow anyone to return home? Unless . . . they planned to come over, too.
Brent wanted to ask Ed all these questions, and a hundred more, but was afraid of the answers. Ed was a practical guy. He wouldn’t tell Brent something just to make him feel good or to give him hope. If anything, Ed might shade things negative, so he could manage Brent’s expectations. Brent opened his mouth to ask Ed what the odds were that they’d ever get back home.
But then his mouth closed.
Because truth was, Brent needed to preserve the illusion that he may someday see Gina and Ben again.
Sixty-Two
Boricio Wolfe
Soon as Boricio took the gun from Quiet Eyes, it seemed like every sanctu-fairy in the fucking place was willing to bow down and swallow his load, starting with the head sanctu-fairy himself, Brother Rei, or Brother Rainbow Brite, as Boricio had taken to thinking of him.
Rainbow Brite looked at Boricio, eyes full of surprise, while Boricio did his best to look like he couldn’t believe it himself. He sure as hell didn’t see any reason to let the fairy fuckers know he could do that shit any time he wanted during any one of the 60 minutes the Good Lord had given an hour.
“Brother Boricio,” Brother Rainbow said. “That was excellent work. New Unity needs more good men like you.” He looked around at the cluster of onlookers, then turned his eyes back to Boricio, though Boricio knew every word was meant for them.
“There’s a place here for you,” he said. “An important one. The world has changed, and we’ve had to change with it. The Good Lord has blanketed our lives with more mystery than ever, first striking The Prophet ill, then bringing sinners to the surface. Yet it is all for the best,” he scanned the crowd, then turned his eyes back to Boricio. “For now we can deal with the sinners, cast them where they belong, and establish a more effective leadership to keep us safe in the most uncertain days the world has known since the flood.”
Brother Rainbow turned his face grave and stroked his chin. “We need men, real men like you, Brother Boricio, men whose true allegiance is to Heaven and all its Glories; men who won’t cower in the face of the enemies of the righteous.”
Boricio smiled wide, then said, “I wouldn’t know how to shrink from the enemies of the righteous if I tried. I’ve been all across this lonely land, Brother Rei. And I’m here to stay as long as you’ll have me. I’ll do whatever must be done. Until the Gates of Heaven swing open, Brother Rei, you can count on me.”
Brother Rainbow smiled, then put his hand on Boricio’s shoulder and led him from the onlookers, and John, who seemed to be off in his own little mental Wonderland. Once they were a few dozen yards away, Rainbow took his hand from Boricio and lowered his voice.
Boricio was monkey fucker-curious to see what the head monk from the Holy Order of Beer-Battered Bullshit had to say.
“The Prophet is a good man,” Brother Rainbow said. “Great, even. A true visionary. But he has fallen gravely ill, and I cannot believe the Good Lord doesn’t know exactly what He is doing. The Prophet is ill because his time has passed. We can never forsake him for all he has given us, for building The Sanctuary, and keeping us safe. Without him, we’d be at the mercy of the Demons.”
“There is no doubt he’s made some mistakes.” Brother Rainbow shook his head, as though the realization made it too heavy to hold straight. “The Prophet wanted to bring people into New Unity to reform them. He believed everyone deserved a chance, and that it would only take a person so long before they recognized the obvious choice.”
Brother Rainbow shook his head. “But that’s not right. Only the Lord’s children, those who have truly accepted Him and His ways, should be allowed to wait for the Gates to open. There is, after all, only so much Sanctuary to go around. A small congregation limits much of the danger.”
Brother Rainbow pointed to an empty bench. “Would you sit with me, Brother Boricio?”
Boricio nodded, then quietly followed, wondering if it would be easier to cover the rainbow in red and fuck his shit up now. Boricio resisted the urge. It would be best to wait things out. Let the brother shepherd his sheep, right over the rainbow, where it would be easier for Boricio to gather the flock.
Boricio listened as Brother Rainbow poured more bullshit into the pan, frying it nice and hot. Boricio kept nodding along; his nods punctuating the Brother’s obvious insanity and delusions of grandeur.
Once Boricio figured Brother Rainbow was finished making his points, he looked down as though embarrassed, and asked, “What’s happened to The Prophet? I mean, what’s wrong with him?”
“He’s been struck ill, and it looks like he won’t be coming back. And though I hate to say it, I feel a bit envious that he is going to meet his Maker, while we must stay here and fight the Good Fight. The Prophet will finally be reunited with his family. But it does leave us at a loss for leadership. A congregation must have someone at the front. And that front must have someone by his side. Do you follow me, Brother Boricio?”
“Through a Demon’s nest and back,” Boricio said. “But what about Brother John? I thought you two were leading this congregation together?”
Brother Rei smiled like a vulture, “I’ve not yet determined where John’s loyalties lie. If he is with us, then he will have a place at our side. But if not, he may need to be dealt with. Do you understand what I’m saying, Boricio?”
Boricio returned the smile, “Consider me the top soldier in God’s Army. I will do whatever you need me to do to restore unity to this church.”
Brother Rainbow’s eyes glimmered like a pimp who just found his prize bitch. However, it wouldn’t be long before Boricio would show that his pimp hand was strong, and Brother Rainbow would see who the real bitch was.
“God has truly blessed us with your arrival,” Brother Rainbow said, hardly able to keep the boner hidden in his robe. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to tend to. Peace be with you, Brother.”
“And with you, Brother,” Boricio said.<
br />
Boricio looked around his new home, widening his smile along with the glance. Yup, this will definitely fucking do. He had everything he needed: high walls, ample weapons, and plenty of sheep he could march off the ends of the Earth, or keep in front of him to defend from a “demon” attack.
There was a war on its way, that was sure as a long sit in the shitter after a longer night pounding shots. Boricio had to figure out which side of The Sanctuary he wanted to be on. War was good when it delivered you up top.
Boricio’s choices came in a pair: he could either help Brother Rainbow Brite pull off his little coup, or he could set him up and side with John and The Prophet, looking like Pope Boricio to every Sanctu-Fairy in the place.
John, along with Quiet Eyes, was one of the only people here who wasn’t buying Boricio’s bullshit, though. Did that make them threats to remove or potential allies? Boricio didn’t want dumbasses running his empire, but at the same time, he didn’t want anyone smart enough to come after him. He needed someone with just enough ambition to be a great Number Two, but no desire for all the glory. Someone like ole Charlie boy.
He wondered again where his crew had gone off to.
Had they been fucking dumb enough to abandon him? Or had the “demons” gotten them? Once he got control of this place, maybe he’d expend some people to go looking for the balance of Team Boricio. He’d either make them pay for their betrayal or welcome them into the new Kingdom of Boricio.
Boricio considered his options and allegiances a bit more, wondering whom to side with. Either way, he was pretty sure he could make things work and rise to the top of the fucking food chain faster than you could fuck a desperate housewife.
