The Black Read online

  Dave kept himself busy sleeping and wondering if he should be somewhere else, looking for the core that Tony had told him about. He spent most of the day looking out the window, sulking at how useless he felt. At times he had almost mounted the stairs to demand a stop to the insanity.

  He stood at the bottom of the stairs, working the nerve up to tell Serif that he didn’t need his help anymore, and that this was a waste of their precious time. He wanted to charge up the rickety steps and yell, telling him that he was leaving and would do this on his own.

  Placing one foot in front of the other, he contemplated the words he would use and tried to concoct something that made sense. Even with the time to think, he still had not formulated anything that seemed more than a child-like statement of how “this is wrong.”

  “Good, you are here,” Serif said, noticing Dave ascending. Nathan was still tied to the chair, and his back was to him. From this angle, though, Dave could see that the inside of the plastic was covered by a rust-coloured opaque layer. The condensation inside the makeshift bag dripped down the inside to the floor, creating lines of mud.

  The man’s head was now covered with a sack, and he was struggling hard.

  “Stand here. Don’t say anything. Not a word. Anything you say now will be relayed to the queen directly. I will ask the questions.”

  Dave nodded, glad to be invited back. He considered his original position on the torture and wavered for a moment.

  “Take it off.” Serif motioned to one of the men in the room.

  The bag was pulled hard, revealing sunken eyes. The man Dave was looking at was not the same as the man who had sat there before. Nathan’s eyes scanned from left to right, inspecting each person in the room. The pupils’ pinpoint rested on Dave. The lips of the man parted in a parody of a smile. Wide teeth gritted together, and the head leaned toward him, but the eyes tracked him.

  “The… out…sssssider.” Nathan’s voice was crackling and hissing as he spoke through his teeth. White spittle oozed from the corners of his mouth.

  Dave stepped backward.

  “I…ssssee youuu….Dave …Thompson.”

  Dave looked at Serif, wide-eyed, and Serif nodded, indicating that he should not be worried.

  Serif addressed the creature that the man had become in only a day. “We want to speak with your queen. We want to know why the truce is broken.”

  “Truce? Never truce… you slaves… no truce with slavesss…”

  “We are not your slaves. Tell us why you attacked us?”

  “Slavessss need to know their place. Newcomersss need to leave.”

  “We can’t leave,” Dave said.

  Serif shot him a look, and Dave cringed mentally at his mistake.

  “Then outsiderssss die.” Nathan’s head pointed to the roof, and the man’s mouth opened exceptionally wide before clacking shut. It repeated the clacking of teeth as though trying to bob for invisible apples hanging in the air.

  “You didn’t answer our question,” Serif continued.

  “Slaves do not address the one.”

  “We are not slaves… we will never be your slaves.”

  Serif walked across the room to gather the last rod of dust from the package.

  “All are already slavesss… all trapped inside are food or slavesss. You will choose…. use the dussst, or feed the dussst.” Nathan’s face strained, and veins throbbed on his forehead and neck.

  “I choose to help Dave Thompson on his quest to kill you. He is here to end you. To destroy everything you have built. He is from the outside, and they have brought a way to kill you for good. It will just take a little more dust. Then we can find you and all of your pieces. You are trapped in here, just like we are, but now we have a solution.”

  Dave forced a poker face, wondering why his new friend was lying; this was not what he had come here for, and Serif knew it.

  “Liessss…” Nathan’s head snapped around, looking around the room. His eyes focused for a moment on Dave then looked past him out the windows, out toward the horizon. The wild man’s head snapped left and right, turning to look out all of the windows.

  “No lies. The more we dust you, the closer we get.” Serif poured the remainder into the hole, tapping the last of the dust out onto the man’s skin.

  Nathan’s sunken eyes rolled back, and the maniacal clacking of his jaw stopped as his lips parted, relaxed open, and eyes rolled back.

  Dave knew the face of addiction. Just as his sister had known it would likely kill her, Nathan was no longer objecting to the dust treatment, despite the fact that it might end his connection to the beloved queen.

  “He is connected. Completely connected. We are not talking to Nathan anymore. This is the queen speaking through him.”

  Nathan’s head rolled around, and the plastic scrunched with each rotation. Dave could only stare at the possessed man, wondering how this was even possible. His mind tried to reverse engineer the process but continued to draw a blank.

  “Come,” Serif stated, patting Dave on the back, walking toward the far door. Dave turned before they went through and mercifully could only see the back of Nathan’s body as it soaked in the throes of the dust.

  Through the door he stood in the dark room, letting his eyes adjust. A hole in the wall had recently been made; red bricks were piled neatly on one side of the room. They stepped through the wall, out of the small attic, and into the third floor of an office building. The century-old cubicles were coated with the decomposing ceiling tiles.

  “Go downstairs, gather your things, and come back up here. Place them here with ours. Sometime tonight or tomorrow we will need to leave in a hurry through here, and you won’t have time to gather them up.”

  Dave nodded, unsure if he could speak.

  Turning away, he walked through the door and descended the stairs quickly. He realized that something bigger than he understood was going on. Part of him was offended by the fact that Serif had kept him in the dark, while simultaneously he was relieved to be informed of at least part of the plan. Looking around the room, he saw there were fewer bedding rolls than the night before. Bags were organized neatly against one wall.

  Rolling his bedding, he strapped the blanket to the top of his backpack and had shouldered it and began moving upward when he heard the crash of the front door, raised voices and smashing wood. Bursting from the room, he looked down the stairs. Men in red clothing were fighting with the men in black at the front door. There was a short fight as the enemy spilled inward… and upward. Feet thundered on the stairs, and Dave bolted upward. “They are here!” he yelled.

  He could smell the familiar alcohol smell. Something downstairs crashed. Something behind him blasted heat, and smoke filled his nostrils. At the top of the stairs, Dave drew his blade and turned to face the thundering feet.

  Awkwardly forced laughter that bordered on sarcastic filled his ears. Nathan was laughing at full volume, waving his head back and forth.

  Above the top of the step, he could see Genie with two lit Molotov cocktails burning. She pitched them down the stairs to the bottom. The flare of alcohol flame spread from the rag-covered man she hit. The red rags took light, and the zealot staggered on the stairs for a moment then continued forward, engulfed in flames, reaching for Dave.

  Genie ran for the attic door, and Dave followed close behind.

  Through the door, he crossed the room and into the next building. A handful of others were already on this side, but the others who had been downstairs had already been already lost. Genie splashed a bucket of liquid into the empty room they had just walked through and tossed the bucket at the door for good measure. She quickly lit another Molotov and stood waiting. The heat from the burning rag made Dave’s face sweat even more.

  The attic door exploded open, and red figures rushed forward. Genie pitched the bottle hard in a practiced arc. Even before it broke, the fluid she had bucketed into the room flared, sucking the air out of the space, and immediately converting it to hea
t.

  The hand full of red men who ran through it to get to them were engulfed, blinded by the flames licking at their limbs.

  Genie grabbed Dave’s arm and charged down the isle of cubicles across the decomposing carpet. The men ahead jumped into the open elevator shaft to grab the thick cable before sliding down its greasy length. Dave checked over his shoulder; the burning figures were piling into the room, casting flickering shadows as they searched for their prey, indifferent to the fire.

  Jumping the short distance, Dave wrapped his arms and legs around the ancient cable and slid downward. Below someone had lit a torch, giving him a sense of depth. At the bottom he released and dropped to the flat floor, surprised at the lack of debris.

  Something thudded near him, and heat brought the smell of cooking meat to his nose. Looking up, he watched another flaming man throw himself down the shaft, only to land hard on the concrete floor at the bottom. Dave had just enough time to step far enough aside that the flaming man only grazed his sore shoulder before landing flat on the floor in a sickening impact.

  “This way,” Serif yelled, holding a torch high, guiding them through another hole in the demolished concrete and into a tunnel beyond. The tunnel stank of mildew, but the drained sewer was long. Running in a crouch, they moved away from the burning building.

  Dave didn’t know where they were going, but he now understood that he had been the cheese in a large trap that had netted a high kill count. He shuddered at the loss of the men who had been downstairs at the time, wondering if Serif had sacrificed them on purpose or if the attack had been earlier than expected..

  Dave pushed past a few people to make his way to just behind Serif.

  “How many of your men made it out?”

  “Not enough,” Serif said sadly.

  Chapter 18

  Sputtering torchlight illuminated the pipe extending across the sewer tunnel, and Dave ducked his head under. Aside from the material the tunnel was comprised of, he felt at home. He had spent most of his younger years working in mines much rougher than the smooth tube that carried them onward.

  The concrete tunnel spoke of a past when it had been filled halfway up the walls, but all that remained was the bone-dry floor. He was mildly pleased that it no longer was used to flush away the city’s excrement.

  The small group of men and women trudged along, their way lit by a few torches. Occasionally, Genie or Serif would stop to turn and listen to determine if they were being followed. Dave surmised that it was unlikely that any of the surviving zealots would have been able to continue the pursuit.

  “Tell me again why we burned a church down with people in it?”

  Serif switched torch hands while he considered the question. “Because those creatures would have tried to stop us from taking the curtain down. We wanted to do it in a controlled manner, but they arrived much earlier than I expected.”

  “We could have just snuck away. We didn’t need to torture Nathan. We got nothing out of it.”

  “No. The whole reason was to see if he knew anything, but more importantly to show him you were there. You were bait once he was connected to the queen.”

  “Why do I not feel good about that?”

  “Trapping them and burning them reduced their numbers overall, and since they travelled to come here, the scouts can work with less risk of being seen near the centre. This is all toward your goal... Our common goal.”

  “I wish you had told me that,” Dave said.

  “I wish I could have. If you had said anything at all, if you had spoken at the wrong time, more of us would have died. If they knew that it was a trap, we would have been doomed. All of us. Not just those who had been on the bottom floor.”

  “So what now?”

  “We meet with the scouts and see what they have found. If we are lucky, they will not have been followed, and we will have a moment’s peace.”

  They continued for over an hour in silence. The torch flickered every so often, and the group would stop when it was near its end. Another would be lit while the original was put out, rewrapped in rags, and soaked in alcohol to be used later. Dave watched them do this efficiently, completely silent, each knowing the steps in the familiar dance of survival.

  Exhausted, Dave tried to check the time on his watch but couldn’t get a view on it with the flickering shadows. His feet ached, and he tried to stick to the bottom of the rounded tunnel in an effort to minimize the roll his ankles were feeling with each step.

  Looking up, he saw a subtle wisp of orange light flow from one side of the ceiling across the tunnel. An energy discharge like he had seen on the job site. His eyes caught a wet reflection of concrete and dirt highlighting a collapsed section eight feet across.

  “Stop!” Dave called out, and the group turned to him.

  The man ahead of them who had begun to climb over the rock fall raised his torch to see what was the matter, and it dropped to the floor, pulling him down. He collapsed, grunting as he hit the stone. He screamed through gritted teeth as his arm was flattened unnaturally to the ground.

  The concrete from the top of the tunnel had long ago collapsed inward and would have been a telltale sign of the increased gravity well if there had been any stars of lights above to show it.

  Dave could see the others rush forward, grabbing the man, careful to avoid the invisible heavy gravity. A multitude of hands pulled hard on him as he begged through gritted teeth for them to stop, but his friends knew what had to be done. The limb came free with a sliding sound like two bricks grating together.

  Genie leaned the man’s back against the curved edge. His sweaty face gasped as he cradled the contorted limb. The fingers flopped like hanging spaghetti.

  Dave watched silently as she pulled some strips of wood from her bag and set to work splinting the limb. He felt a wave of nausea as she repositioned the arm back into something that resembled human anatomy. The forearm moved as though someone had powdered the bone inside. Taking care, she wrapped it before tying a makeshift sling for the man.

  Silently, the rest of the team scanned the area for threats that might take advantage of their stopping. Dave’s heart pounded.

  “Good save,” Serif said to Dave. “How did you know it was there?”

  “The lights. Didn’t you see the lights?”

  “The torch?”

  “No… the lights. There was one that passed from that wall to the other side. It was as bright as the torch…” Dave turned to Genie. “You saw it, didn’t you?” She had been just in front of him.

  She shook her head and shrugged.

  “Another step and I would be dead. I don’t care. You called it. Thanks.” The gaunt man reached up, and Dave extended his hand to grab the man’s good arm, pulling the survivor to his feet.

  “Just glad everyone didn’t walk into that in the dark,” Dave said.

  “Can we get around it?” Serif asked.

  Genie was near the edge, picking up fine dirt from the floor, and threw it at where she perceived the edge might be. Most of the dirt was immediately compressed to the ground, while the rest floated. Leaning against the right side of the wall, she shifted by.

  Safely on the other side, she waved them across before lighting another torch.

  Each man and woman shimmied as close to the wall as they could get.

  When it was Dave’s turn, he pressed himself flat against the wall and slid quickly by the invisible trap, holding his bag in hand. Stepping away, he watched the others.

  “Have you ever mapped those?” Dave asked Serif.

  “No. New ones appear here and there, but they are not very common, especially toward the centre. Sometimes they cluster, so we will have to be careful.”

  Once the group was all by, they continued down the sewer. The main corridor occasionally split or widened as tributaries added to the main body. Eventually, Serif stopped at an ancient ladder. Rope and wooden dowels had been tied across the parallel bars to replace the rusted steps.

  Geni
e sheathed her weapon before handing Serif her torch and bag. Free of her burden, she lightly danced up the rungs toward ground level. Serif could hear a heavy, grinding noise of metal on concrete as the iron manhole cover slid back.

  A moment later there was a quiet snap of fingers, and Serif motioned for Dave to follow. The smell of crisp, clean air greeted his nose, and the continuous breeze cooled his face as he pulled himself from the ground. Above them was a beautiful but subtle display of northern lights, dancing across the interior surface of the dome. The bands circulated outward from the centre of the city in a spiral. The purple and green ribbons moved like dancing ghosts across the air far above them. An otherwise perfect darkness would have covered them had it not been for the display.

  Dave watched Genie crouch with weapon drawn, facing away from the manhole. After each person slunk out, they immediately flowed to a defensive position, drawing weapons and waiting. Self-consciously, he crouched and waited for instruction from Serif.

  In the dim light, Dave could appreciate the silent execution as the individuals became a wall of black cloth and steel to protect those still rising from below.

  Looking outward, Dave held his breath for a moment, considering that maybe they had seen something he had not. Scanning the area, he realized that they were in an overgrown park. The grass was waist-high, and the trees were long dead from lack of rain.

  When the last man exited, the torch was smothered by a rag. The dim light would guide them now.

  Serif tapped Genie on her shoulder and pointed off into the distance. Dave watched intently as she began running toward a concrete building. As each member rose, they tapped the man next to them, silently creating a single file. The man to Dave’s left tapped him, and he realized he was last in line.

  Standing quickly, he felt exposed as he brought up the rear. His tired legs pressed on, keeping up with the man in front of him. The trail of people following Genie entered at a running pace through an open front door. Dave recognized the man holding it open as the Archer. The familiar bow was nocked with a dark arrow.