“Speak no more of that place,” Childriss forced out, then fell silent.
* * *
The nine children moved about the lab while Didi busied himself with his work. Some of them were tall, nearly coming up to Didi’s chest. He took notes on their attributes, their strengths, their maturation of intellect, their emotional states. Number 32, a yellow male, had great upper-body strength and was not content to let the others play with their toys in peace. They had to structurally reinforce his sleeping cage. Number 23, the red-skinned girl, was still unresponsive. She had either been greatly traumatized by her attack, or else she was born an emotional wreck incapable of dealing with life outside of her cage. Number 11, the green girl, seemed emotionally healthy and could play with others, and even smiled often, but Didi suspected that her unique language was a sign of a complete emotional break from others. He still had no idea who had murdered Number 39, the psychotic.
Pale Number 27 tugged at the hem of Didi’s lab coat and looked up at him with his big milky eyes.
“Yes, wee one?” said Didi.
“Hungry!” said the child.
Didi twirled a carrot in his hand, a trick he’d developed to amuse the children. Pale Number 27 curled his nose up, then rubbed his belly and pointed at a large red bird in its cage.
“Very well,” said Didi, removing the bird. It flapped about in his hand, and he said, “All the food in the lab belongs to you. You know that. But do not leave the lab, child, ever. Now... do you know the name of this animal?”
“Bird!” said the child, laughing. “Bird-bird! Everybody know that!”
“Very well. You can hold it. Now, let me find a chopper to chopper it up...”
There was a sickening crunch behind him and Didi turned back to the child. The bird’s eyes were open wide, its wings flapping, and the blood-spattered child tore a chunk of flesh from the bird’s neck and chomped it, teeth clicking, glistening wet. Green Number 11 ran to him, babbling softly and gesturing to the bird. Pale Number 27 turned away, glaring at her.
“Now, now,” said Didi, as if in a dream. “You must share with your sister.”
He turned away, feeling nauseous. Hastened maturation, he thought. Normative behavior cannot keep up with the pace of their bodies. Like animals... we haven’t given them any sort of code of conduct to live by. They are test subjects to us. Cattle to be used, not ends in themselves. This is nihilism and psychotic degeneracy in its purest form.
Later, in a room alone with Childriss, Didi finished his story. “They ate the bird whole, William, and played with its feathers until I threw them out.”
Childriss shook his head and rapped his fingers on the table in a nervous pattern. “Listen, Didi. The other researchers are getting curious. They say our wildlife studies do not warrant such large private quarters. Also, I’ve heard the Guardians speaking. Didi, there might not be any demons in this area. We’ve been here over five weeks without any sign of them.”
“So?”
“So, wouldn’t the patrols at least find nests, eggs, a den, something like that?”
“What I mean is, what does that have to do with us, with the children?”
“With the test subjects, Didi. What it means is that people are talking about packing up and moving to another place, if not back to Haven altogether. If we pack up everything and leave, Didi, then we will have no cause to burn the lab. Destroying the evidence will be much more difficult if we leave in a calm and orderly manner.”
“I see.”
“It would be easier, Didi, if we poisoned their food and disposed of them now, before they end up disposing of our careers. Or our freedom, even.”
“Hush, William,” said Didi, glancing at the door. “Some of them have long ears.”
* * *
Day 40. The Last Day That the Havenders Would Spend in the Black Valley.
Didi laid down on his cot. Childriss stood in the light of the hallway, a dark silhouette, and said, “I’m going to speak to the other researchers.”
“How will you deal with them?” said Didi, exhausted. “What story will you tell them?”
“I will treat them such that they will damn their curiosity. They’ll learn to keep their distance from us.”
Childriss left him. Didi heard the lock thrown, then heard the door open and shut. He heard the lock automatically shut tight, then went to sleep.
Didi woke. He looked at the clock but saw only broken shards of plastic and loose gears. He felt ill. The light in the hallway flickered strangely, a surreal pantomime of blinking. In a distant room, a voice on the radio tuned to the emergency signal shouted, “... got one! We bagged a demon! Rendezvous immediately! Repeat, we killed a demon! Prepare for dust-off! We got...” over and over. Didi rose painfully, still exhausted, then heard a sudden caterwauling in a distant room. Jerking shadows in the flickering light. A heavy, hostile atmosphere.
Didi creaked down the hall toward the nursery. Something fell in a nearby room. Inside, he saw frightened eyes in the shadows. Pale Number 27 rose suddenly, his smooth face shining with tears, mouth twisted downward. More noises, scurrying, within the nursery at the end of the hall.
“What is going on?” said Didi. “Why are you hiding?”
“I hid,” said the child, swallowing his tears, “because we are freaks.”
“Who told you that you are freaks? Who said that?”
Didi backed away from the door and sidestepped toward the nursery. Pale Number 27 came into the hall, little shoulders hunched up in anger.
“I opened the locks,” the child hissed. “I went outside. I went to a... bad... place...”
“No! I told you not to leave!” There was a shriek within the nursery, and Didi turned away, confused. “Now, I must discipline you. Number 27, your punishment will be...”
“No,” said the child.
“What?”
“I’m not taking any shit from you, old fuck.” The child glared at Didi, brows arching slowly, lips pulling back from sharp teeth.
“You picked up that language from Chil-”
The child darted forward faster than Didi thought possible. He felt something like a hammer against his chest, then suddenly he was sliding down the hallway, choking. Didi came to a rest and fought to catch his breath. He tried to stand, but his leg brace prevented anything but awkward side-to-side motion. The child stalked toward him, the flickering light catching in the hollows of his eyes. Didi heard a sharp clanging sound, then saw, in the darkened restroom nearby, two children tearing the toilet free from the floor, faces like masks of hatred. Shit-black water spewed up from the ruined pipes. The sprinkler system flared to life and spewed cold, slimy recycled water onto Didi as he crawled away from the child.
Didi crawled near the room of birds. Many birds of paradise laid dead on the ground, rainbow feathers clustered in ragged clumps in the falling rain. A long-eared child with mottled brown skin glared at Didi. He had a flapping bird clutched in his fists, and said, “We should poison their food, Didi!” in imitation of Childriss’s voice. “We should kill them now, Didi!”
Didi flung himself to the far wall and continued crawling backwards. Pale Number 27 followed, stabbing him with burning eyes, sucking down ragged gulps of air, hair clinging to his head.
“Demons!” shrieked the radio, far away. “They’re following! Tons of them! Prepare for-”
Didi passed the main laboratory. He saw several children stomping glass vials while another swung a heavy microscope into a wall. He continued pushing backward until he came to the nursery at the rear and saw, to his horror, that not only was every cage door open, but that Yellow Number 32 was punching and head-butting the shredded remains of Red Number 23, the female who could barely bring herself to move. Her blood rippled in a pool on the ground and spread with the rain, her ribs and jawbone jutting into the air. Yellow Number 32 looked up suddenly, eyes beady and feral, and hissed savagely. Didi turned about again, avoided the eyes of Pale Number 27, and entered the lab.
“Demons on the way!” shrieked the radio. “Burn everything! Evacuate now!”
“Stop this!” cried Didi, and the stool slipped and he fell into the cold water. “Stop this now! All of you!”
“Shut the fuck up!” cried Pale Number 27. “You’re dead!”
The child picked up a heavy wrench. “Dead! Dead! Dead!” shrieked the children.
Suddenly there was a flash of light, heat, something mechanical hissed, and Childriss ran into the room brandishing a long-handled flamethrower in one hand and its propane tank in the other, swinging the thing like a sword of fire. Pale Number 27 whirled about. Childriss bashed him in the side of the head with the end of the torch and flung him into a table and to the ground, where he lay still. The other children leaped and growled, eyes gleaming. Childriss waved the torch about spraying intense blue flames and the children retreated, their backs arched like animals.
Childriss sidestepped to Didi, knelt on one knee, and said, “Grab my back. Hold on. Tight.”
Didi threw both hands onto his friend, held on for dear life, and Childriss lifted them both into the air. The children crept forward. Childriss sent an arc of flame around them, shouting, “Back! Back!” and the creatures hopped away. Pale Number 27 lifted his smoldering head from the water, glaring, his face smoking and cracked, one eye a mess of goo and streaming mucus.
They backed into the hallway. With a wild bark Yellow Number 32 leaped at them, his muscular arms held wide. Childriss whirled and brought the propane tank crashing onto the child’s head. Yellow Number 32 staggered, eyes empty, then fell onto his back. Childriss stood over him, aimed the torch, and blasted him with a jet of fire. The child woke in agony, splashing in the water as the burning fuel ate into his flesh. The children in the main lab redoubled their assault and Childriss sent them back again with a jet of flame.
As they backed down the hallway the stench of shit hit them from the ruined restroom. Without looking, Childriss smacked an elbow into the fire security system and broke its glass access panel. While Didi keyed in the code for the fire-switch, Childriss muttered, “Bet you whelps didn’t know the code for this lock.”
When Didi finished inputting the code, the sprinkler system stopped suddenly. Heat radiated through the walls, then black, charred lines ran the length of the walls. The stench of electrical burning was overwhelming.
“We should have done this a long time ago,” said Childriss. “Come on!”
Childriss ran down the hall and Didi limped behind him. The children rushed toward them, sometimes bounding along on all fours. They reached the anteroom, where a female with a face covered in purple veins hissed from atop their sealed chest. Didi sidestepped her and keyed in the code for the exit. Childriss turned on the girl, aimed, and sprayed her with a blast of fire. She fell back, shrieking, sending up a rush of steam from the pool of water.
As soon as the door opened they heard the wailing of hundreds of beasts, the screaming of men, the blast of engines and gunfire. Childriss kicked the chest through the water to Didi. Unwilling to leave the cursed things given to them by the cave, Didi scooped up the chest and hobbled away with it. Childriss watched the room consume itself in spreading flames, then sent one more spray of fire at the gathering children. He ducked through the door and kicked it shut. They heard the heavy lock click into place.
They ran up the hill, staggering and panting. The forest all around was alive with screaming alien throats, deep howling, the trees shivering in the night as tentacles danced overhead and spotlights reflected off unevenly spaced eyes. Men ran about, shouting and loading the planes, setting buildings ablaze while Guardians formed lines and fired into the trees. Behind them, the secret laboratory burned.
“Hurry, Didi! Don’t look back!” said Childriss, his face contorted and wild with fear.
They heard the door to the lab open and saw a plume of smoke escaping. One child completely on fire ran out, then silently laid down to burn in the grass. Then the green girl and the brown long-eared boy ran out, saw Didi and Childriss, and ran straight at them.
Didi cursed his weak leg, his weak lungs. “Get down!” shouted Childriss, who pushed his friend to the ground. Didi saw a Guardian running toward them. The man leveled his automatic rifle at the two shrieking freaks and blasted them. The children flew to pieces. Didi watched with sick fascination as a green arm rolled down the hill.
The Guardian removed his helm. His eyes were wide and sweat poured down his face. “Gods!” he bellowed. “These flesh demons, they come in all shapes an’ sizes, huh?”
Didi and Childriss exchanged a look. “Yes,” said Childriss. “Truly a race of monsters.”
In the forest behind the lab, amidst the smoke and the heat, Pale Number 27 leaned against a tree, his face and eye a scorched ruin, a garden of growing agony. Beside him stood a blue-skinned boy and a gray-skinned girl. How they hated the men who had made them, who had so easily pronounced their death sentence. But they heard the screams of the devils, the gunfire, the flaring engines of the flying machines, and so they turned away from that place. They had been made from nothing and were now exiles from nowhere. The blue-skinned boy grabbed the girl by her hair, then pulled her deeper into the woods. Pale Number 27 rose and joined them in the welcoming darkness.
* * *
The planes rocketed out of the valley, then joined up with the scout ships hiding in the mountains. They blasted over the wasteland. The scientists tended to moaning, wounded Guardians as best they could.
“We’re setting down in the desert somewhere!” a Guardian shouted in the darkness of the hold. “Once you boys get that sample analyzed, we dump it!”
“It’s just some blood and skin,” muttered a scientist.
“Doesn’t matter! We’re not taking any of that shit or anything from this place back into Haven with us.”
Childriss leaned against Didi. Didi clutched the chest with the treasures of the cave close to his chest. “Never again,” said Didi. “I will never create an intelligent being, not ever again.”
Childriss opened his mouth to protest, then remembered the screams of the dying children, their small burning bodies. Even their violent protestations against their fate seemed noble to him now. Childriss reasoned that he was now a murderer, a child-killer.
“Very well, Didi. We’ll work on this sample of the demonic genome. We’ll glean what we can from it. And then just leave it at that.”
“Yes. Good.”
“Good.”
“And we’ll dump this chest in the desert,” said Didi, glaring down at it. “We’ll leave it in the wasteland, where it belongs.”
Childriss nodded quickly and stared at the chest. He could smell propane on his hands. In that moment, he knew that they would not throw away the gifts that the cave had given them.
Chapter Thirteen
Sword of the Magog
The dogmen at the fort put little effort into hunting because they were busy discussing their abandonment by the Khan. Some said that he had left to bring back the head of a devil. Others said that he was testing his people. The only thing they agreed on was that they would remain loyal to the Khan’s vision of a new life in the valley. No matter how long it took, they would wait for his return. Not even death or torture or deprivation could sway their opinion. That night, Jarl told the story of how the Khan had fought against a mighty tyrant in his homeland with the help of the Reavers, and the pups and cubs were so excited that they could barely sleep a wink.
On the second day, a fight broke out between two packs of dogmen who wanted ownership of Freyja, since it was generally agreed that the Khan had abandoned them and was never coming back. Freyja scurried away and hid within the fort while Reavers covered the doors and Chris Kenny crouched on a balco
ny stroking the Hargis sniper rifle. The packs were inconsolable. However, just before the fight spread into all-out warfare, Nilem stepped in, disappeared with the rival dogmen, and brought some level of peace. From then on Freyja and the other human women stayed in the fort, prisoners of their protectors.
On the third day, many packs of dogman hunters made life hell for the farmers. The hunters were beginning to realize that they were doing a lot of the work while the small, weak humans were sitting around all day waiting for food to magically spring forth from the ground. The farmers were a humble lot, and were used to enduring elements that could not be fought. They often sat near one another and quietly endured the humiliation of having dogmen stand over them and chastise them for one another’s amusement.
“Goddamn,” one farmer said to another after a pack of dogmen finally left them alone. “Least we didn’t have to deal with this shit around Pontius.”
On the fourth day, Yarek checked the thick walls around the fort. The machineguns and the cannons taken from the tanks had been jury-rigged and secured at ground level. Anyone trying a frontal assault would have to cross a wide tract of open space and would most likely become fertilizer for the farmland. He knew that ammunition was scarce, though, and began to wonder if it would be possible to make new ammunition out of primitive materials. Just as he made his way back to the gate, he met a large pack of dogs on their way out. They shouted and sang three war-chants simultaneously as they shook their swords and axes.
“The hell are you doing?” said Yarek. “How are you going to catch anything if you carry on like that?”
Demonworld Book 5: Lords of the Black Valley (Demonworld series) Page 20