Death's Dominion

by Simon Clark

  Shouts of anger segued into screams of pain. The backing track to the saps’ expression of raw emotion were a sequence of crashes, thumps, snapping wood, shattering crockery. Paul glanced back to where Elsa and West stood in the corridor. They were mute with shock.

  Paul gave a grim smile. ‘Hands up anyone who thinks we’ve died and gone to Hell?’ They didn’t react to his words. Their eyes were locked on the closed kitchen door as a cry ended in a rasp of agony. ‘Forgive my gallows humour. If I don’t crack bad jokes I know I’m going to go out of my mind.’

  Still, neither of them spoke. The spell only broke when the noises stopped and Dominion emerged from the kitchen.

  ‘They should have made it easy for themselves,’ he told them. ‘OK, time’s short. If we’re going to bring back Saiban we need to work faster.’

  The kitchen door began to swing open. Raw bacon lay scattered on the tiled floor. No, that isn’t bacon… Before the door opened fully to reveal the room’s occupants Paul turned his back on it. ‘Follow me.’

  The main entrance to the medical centre had been burned to one almighty pile of crud. Even concrete walls had collapsed.

  ‘Loading bay,’ Elsa told them. They skirted the outside of the building to the back. There, windowpanes had been blown out by the explosions, otherwise it appeared intact.

  Paul looked through a window. ‘There’s an automatic sprinkler system. It looks as if that was enough to stop the flames spreading.’

  ‘Hurry up,’ Dominion said. ‘You need to start work on Saiban by midday otherwise—’

  ‘The rot sets in. I know.’ Paul began to wonder if Dominion might snap his spine if he was tardy. ‘This way.’

  Beside the loading-bay doors that were big enough to accommodate a truck there was a pedestrian entrance. This door had been blown off its hinges when the commandos had stormed the building. Someone had simply propped it against the doorframe with a plank of wood. It would have kept the local rodent population out; not much more. West kicked aside the plank, allowing the door to topple onto the ground.

  ‘What if there are more troops guarding the place?’ Elsa asked.

  Dominion replied. ‘There aren’t any.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I asked the men in the kitchen.’

  Paul exchanged meaningful glances with Elsa as they stepped into the loading bay. Light fell through the shattered windows to reveal tiled walls. The place retained its clinical air.

  Elsa said, ‘This is where they brought those who’d been selected for regeneration.’

  West grunted. ‘She means, corpses are wheeled in here, three weeks later they walk out through the front door.’ He grunted again. ‘Good as new.’

  ‘Better than new,’ she corrected.

  As they moved through the cavernous void of the loading bay West sniffed. ‘This is why I don’t like the smell of fish.’

  ‘You’re rambling West,’ Elsa told him.

  ‘I used to work with someone who incinerated the folk you guys couldn’t kick-start. By the time she got the paperwork back from admin the bodies had started to rot. She told me the smell always reminded her of sardines. I’ve not eaten fish since. I can’t even stand the reek of it.’

  ‘Stop wasting time,’ Dominion told them. ‘You need to find the equipment.’

  West sniffed again. ‘The reason for my anecdote about what sardines smell like is because I can smell it here.’

  Dominion’s gaze roved the delivery bay. ‘It’s important we make Saiban talk. For now, nothing else matters.’

  Paul nodded toward casket-shaped boxes on a conveyor. ‘There’s your sardine cans, West.’ He grimaced. ‘They must have brought in a batch of lovely fresh stiffs for transition. They never made it out of the bay; now they’re starting to ripen.’

  Dominion didn’t appear to notice the aroma. ‘Where will we find the mobile regenerators?’

  ‘Last time I saw one,’ Paul said, ‘which was years ago, was in the storeroom next to the main regenerator theatre. We kept a couple as backup in case the main system failed, thanks to our diligence they never did, but heaven knows what state they’re in now.’

  ‘Find them for me,’ Dominion told him. ‘You need to move faster.’

  Paul resisted the temptation to utter a flippant, Ay-ay, Captain. Instead he pointed at a pair of steel doors. ‘Through there.’

  To exit through the doors meant passing the caskets on the conveyor belt. One of the soldiers guarding the place must have been bored enough to unscrew the bolts that held down the lid. All caskets arrived packed with ice; that kept the corpse cool enough until it rolled along the conveyor belt to begin the procedure. What Paul saw as he passed was a casket full of melted ice. Floating in there, like it was bathtub, a corpse still encased in plastic shrink wrap. A green bloom of mould spread between the transparent plastic and the face of a woman. The eyes were wide open as if shocked to find herself in such a state. The soldier had also fired a bullet between the naked breasts, maybe to double-check this naked beauty was really dead.

  She was dead – as deeply, truly, absolutely dead as you can get.

  ‘Sardines.’ West pinched his nostrils with his fingers. ‘Never ever give me sardines.’

  There was more horror to come.

  ‘They had orders to trash the place.’ Paul gazed round the theatre that housed the regenerators. There were six lines of four. The cylinders that contained the body during the reanimation process were built from surgical steel. Seven feet tall, hourglass in shape, with narrow cinched waists they stood upright in what had been a sterile environment. Although there was no electric light the sun falling through windows set in the ceiling revealed the extent of the damage.

  Dominion ran his hand round the scorched fissure in the side of a regenerator. Others bore the same kind of damage. ‘The soldiers used demolition charges to blow holes in them.’

  ‘Then the new government has no plans to restart the programme.’ West examined the one closest to him. ‘This one reeks of sardines as well. No prizes for guessing what’s inside.’

  They moved along the lines of regenerators. Small observation windows were set in the top of the hourglass structure. West stayed clear but Paul noticed Elsa maintained her professional rigour as a trained nurse. She checked each one. Her face was like stone.

  ‘Misfire,’ Dominion pointed at one of the vessels. A blackened smear radiated lines of soot. ‘The charge didn’t penetrate the casing.’

  Elsa immediately ran across to check. Using her hands to block the sun’s glare she put her face close to the observation port. With a sharp intake of breath she jerked back. ‘It moved.’

  ‘Forget it.’ West spoke as if a bad taste, possibly the flavour of sardines, formed in his mouth. ‘The power’s been out for days. ‘Whatever’s in there will have gone badly wrong.’

  Paul found that same bad taste creeping over his tongue. ‘All medical staff swore an oath never to neglect a patient. We can’t simply stick our hands in our pockets and stroll away now.’

  ‘West’s right,’ Dominion said ‘Leave it.’

  Elsa rounded on him. ‘We’ve agreed to help you, Dominion. But we’re not going to break our oath. Our laws mean nothing to you but they still mean a hell of a lot to us. So fucking back off! OK!’

  ‘I told you, you are expendable. What’s important is that we make Saiban live again. He knows what’s happening to us.’

  ‘OK, Dominion. Break our necks.’ Paul moved to help Elsa as she flicked open the catches that ran down one side of the upright canister. ‘If you do then you’ll have no one to help you load the regenerator onto the truck.’

  ‘I’ll give you ninety seconds.’

  Paul gave a grim smile. ‘We salute your generosity.’

  They worked together. Paul opened the vents to discharge whatever remained of the gasses inside the canister. These would normally be pumped out into catchment chambers beneath the floor of the theatre but with no electricity all he
could hope for was they’d disperse harmlessly in the air. If anything the hourglass shaped vessel that contained the body opened like an ancient Egyptian coffin that had been stood on end. Only the vertical ‘lid’ of this cylinder swung outward on a hinged arm.

  West groaned when he saw what was inside. ‘So this is what happens when it’s left in the oven for too long.’

  Paul moved back as the last of the vapours poured out of the vessel. Standing there, restrained by a steel band across the waist was what would have been one of his patients. Normally, after three hours’ immersion in electro-conductive gases the newborn transient would be removed from the regenerator. They’d still be unconscious; the moment of their waking for the first time after their deaths would still be hours away. Of course, after the attack on the transit station this individual had been left to bake in the gases untended by staff.

  West swallowed as if whatever he’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours wanted out. ‘Dominion. Kill it.’

  The monstrous occupant of the regenerator reached out its arms and screamed.

  30

  The Monster’s Monster

  Elsa stared. There, standing in the regenerator, with the restraining band round the waist was a man who’d been left in that chemical soup for days longer than he should have been. The first thought that struck Elsa was: He should be dead. Second: It would be better if he WERE dead.

  ‘Dominion, what are you waiting for?’ West recoiled from the thing. ‘Kill it.’

  Dominion approached the regenerator. His eyes absorbed details of that naked body in front of him. The addition of new flesh had been rampant. Where it should have produced a figure with an Olympian physique the morbid over-growth had created a monstrous figure. A distorted head with massive brows sat on strangely bulbous shoulders that flanked its lettuce leaf ears. The skin was more like Rhino hide with circular calluses spreading in a rash over much of it. One side of the head was bald while the other sprouted lank rust-coloured strands that hung down as far as the elbow. The chest heaved as the creature struggled to breathe. Its fingernails were a thick material that reminded Elsa of animal horn. They even emerged from the finger ends in a shape that was cylindrical rather than flat. Body hair sprouted as black spines rather than soft fibres.

  It raised its head with a snorting sound that was more equine than human. She noted the eyes were so prominent that even though its eyelids were closed they were stretched so tightly red veins bulged from them. And despite the thing being on the brink of its second death Elsa saw a desperate strength in the blood pumping through the veins. Whatever happened, this monstrous explosion of human flesh was determined to stay alive.

  As Dominion moved toward the open regenerator Elsa blocked his way.

  ‘No. I won’t allow you to kill him.’

  ‘Stand aside.’

  ‘He’s one of our own kind,’ she told him. ‘You mustn’t hurt him.’

  West cried, ‘For God sakes, Elsa. It’ll die anyway. Dominion will be doing it a favour.’

  ‘He! Not “it”.’ Elsa’s fury blazed. ‘You were like him, if you hadn’t forgotten. You were carried in here a stinking corpse; you walked out alive again.’

  Paul spoke out, ‘We won’t allow you to harm him. We dedicated our lives to giving people a second chance of life.’

  ‘Good grief!’ West slapped his forehead. ‘What y’ going to do? Keep it as a pet? Look at it, man. It’s a travesty. It’ll be brain-dead.’

  Dominion reached out toward the man in the cylinder. Elsa knew she was no match for the giant but she slammed her fists against his chest. ‘Leave him!’

  Behind her, came a gasp. She turned to see the man’s mouth open. An overlarge tongue licked swollen lips. Then he raised his head and opened his eyes. A shock snapped through Elsa’s chest as she beheld those eyes that protruded from the head. They stood proud of the face as if the sockets could barely contain them. Larger than hens’ eggs, the whites had that same chalky texture as eggshell, while the iris formed a hard blue disk centered with a large, black pupil.

  ‘See, all that shouting’s woken the wee lad up.’

  Elsa turned on Paul ready to criticize his inappropriate comment but from his expression of mortification he was struggling to maintain professional calm.

  ‘No!’ Elsa pushed against Dominion as he surged forward, his clenched fist raised in readiness to burst the monster’s face.

  What happened next caught them all by surprise. An excited snort vented the man’s mouth as he stood there panting for breath.

  The snorting became speech. ‘Dominion, I knew you’d come. Where’s Saiban?’

  Paul found the mobile regenerators in the storeroom under dozens of packs of surgical gowns. The commandos must have put their heads round the door then decided there was nothing to interest them here.

  ‘There they are, Dominion. I’m making no guarantees whether they’ll work. They’ve been gathering dust in that wee corner of theirs for the last thirty years.’

  West gave one of the timber cases an experimental kick. Inside, the regenerator chimed like a bell. ‘Why on earth did they bother making them?’

  ‘In the good old days, when monster and man lived in perfect harmony, every far flung parish would have one.’

  ‘Paul’s being flippant. The government’s intentions were noble,’ Elsa said. ‘It was going to be the dawn of a new Golden Age. The end of death.’

  Paul agreed. ‘Indeed. No one need fear death. Because even if you didn’t live near a transit station every community, no matter how remote, would have one of these beauties tucked away in a barn. Within minutes of old Uncle Barry or Auntie May giving up the ghost they’d be whisked into one of these. Then within days they’d be back in the pink again. Rosy-cheeked, brimful of life, ready to dance the highland fling at the next Hogmanay.’ He ran his fingers over a warning stencilled on the case that was now delicious in its irony: BEWARE. HIGH VOLTAGE! DANGER OF DEATH! ‘But no one appreciated how unfashionable it would become to be raised from the dead. Funny old world, isn’t it?’

  Dominion swept mounds of laundry from the cases. ‘We’ll take two.’

  Paul shook his head. ‘I think you’ll find we’ve only time to take one. These things are devilishly heavy.’

  ‘One then,’ Dominion agreed. ‘What else do you need?’

  ‘Full cylinders of M-stock and V-stock. Those work the necromantic magic when they’re pumped into the regenerator.’

  Elsa added, ‘We also need flush and primer. They come ready loaded in syringes.’

  ‘Find them,’ Dominion ordered. ‘We’ll start here. West, move it away from the corner. Get down with your back to the wall; push it with your feet.’

  Paul caught Dominion’s arm. ‘One other point: what do you plan to do with your friend back there.’

  ‘If he’s still alive after we load this we’ll take him with us.’

  West gave an expressive shrug. ‘OK, Dominion, aren’t you going to tell us?’

  ‘Tell you what?’

  ‘Beefy boy back there knows you. Do you know him?’

  ‘I must have done once. Now get to work. Time’s running out.’

  West appeared reluctant to let it go at that. ‘You don’t remember anything about him?’

  A voice came as a sighing wheeze from the doorway. ‘It might come back to him … if I remind Dominion that we’ – the monstrous figure gulped air as it leaned against the doorframe for support – ‘we were in the same place when it was hit by ground fire.’

  Elsa frowned. ‘Ground fire. We’re not at war, are we?’

  ‘Not this country. But we are.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘No, because you’ve been kept in the dark here.’ The man sucked in a breath. ‘Your role was to keep this monster factory working day and night.’ He turned those bulging eyes to Dominion. ‘So, Dominion. Air crash. Do you remember me now?’

  Dominion simply returned the stare – said nothing.

 
; The man continued, ‘He wasn’t always like this. Hardly garrulous … but Dominion was eloquent when the situation demanded.’ He coughed. ‘My God, I didn’t think it would feel like this.’

  Paul shook his head. ‘You said the country wasn’t at war, but we are?’

  ‘You can see for yourselves, I’m in no state for explanations. If I can jog Dominion’s memory then he can tell you.’ When he coughed again blood ran down his chin. ‘But Saiban’s the one who knows the plan.’

  ‘Saiban’s dead,’ Elsa told him.

  Dominion said, ‘That’s why we need the portable regenerator.’

  ‘You’re going to bring Saiban back for a third term?’ He gulped down more air. ‘I’d like to see the expression on his face when he opens his eyes.’

  ‘I’m not banking on success,’ Paul said. ‘For one he’s messed up; internal organs destroyed. I can’t guarantee the mobile units will still work after all this time. And last, but not least, I’ve never heard of anyone undergoing transition for a second time. There’s no precedent that he’ll—’

  ‘No precedent?’ The thing in the doorway quivered. It took several moments for them to realize it was laughing. ‘No precedent. Hear that, Dominion? No precedent! Here’s some facts. Ah … I …’ The man sagged as if collapsing. Paul moved to help him. ‘No. I’ll be fine. Now, facts. I’ve undergone the process three times. Dominion’s currently enjoying his fifth return to life. That’s right, my fellow God Scarers, I’ve died twice before. Dominion, there, has yielded the spirit many times. That’s because he’s a warrior. I, on the other hand, lead the troops from the rear. That is until last month when the plane took a pounding from ground fire. I survived for a few days after the crash. Dominion here was torn apart. See the different colouration of the limbs? We had prisoners on the plane. So our medics made good use of what was left of them to put Dominion together again. Same head … but as for the rest of him …’ The man coughed. ‘He remembers none of this yet. Ah … I’m going to lie down and rest. But’ – he held up a finger that was as plump as a child’s wrist – ‘you asked if we were at war. Yes, we are. Mary Shelley had Frankenstein’s monster turn on its creator. And so have we.’ With that the figure shambled away back into the corridor.