Netherkind

by Greg Chapman

  Standing next to Niles was the soulless one, the would-be magician. His visions, his nightmares, were not founded in Okin’s domain, rather the dreams he saw were of a much darker place, frozen and burning all at once. In fact, the visions were not even his own—instead they belonged to those he had condemned, the ones sacrificed in order to escape damnation. The visionaries were showing Vorn his fate that was still to come. As always, Vorn ran from these images, but only to face the true horrors that awaited him in the light of day.

  Perhaps if he was not so plagued by the failings of his past, he might have been able to predict what would soon unfold.

  The dreams of the last of the three were very much the same. In his imaginings Bryce Colton saw an arm, severed and glistening in a well of fire, forever burning. Bryce’s own arm had been cut off at the elbow and was nowhere to be found. Without his arm, Bryce was incapable of anything and so the severed arm in the well became vital to his survival. As he gazed upon it, the flesh of the severed arm parted, the folds of lips beginning to appear with teeth beneath, sharp and long. The arm’s mouth moved to call him, to encourage him to pick up the severed arm and place it on his own. Screaming at himself to stop, Bryce complied with the detached thing’s wishes and finally in his mind, body and soul, he and the arm became one.

  And Thomas, the one in three and three in one, could see all their dreams. As he prepared to walk out of the apartment and the human city, he carried them, but not as a burden. The dreams of the Flesher Kingdom were his bread and water for the journey ahead.

  In the dreams there was truth and in that truth was his fate. Before, in the apartment, he’d dreamed of confusion and lies, of a city of meals, endless, tasteless meals. He had no path, no way out to freedom, but now he knew what he had to do and whom he had to feast upon.

  With those bites and swallows, Okin’s plans would fall into place, the war would end, and everything would be as he intended. The child in apartment 201 was about to become the greatest Flesher who ever lived.

  28

  Bryce first became aware of the numbness in his right arm the very second after he’d shot Nero.

  The pain simply faded, reverting to a comforting disconnection. It brought a deep sense of relief that kill-shot, as if the gun, in his deformed hand, had become a junkie’s needle and the bullet its heroin.

  Raised voices cascaded around the sewers and at first Bryce thought they were inside his skull, until he recognised them as his travelling companions. Niles and Vorn were arguing, the mogul shoving the occultist against the filthy wall.

  “What the fuck did you do to Colton? Look what he’s done!” Niles said.

  Vorn was speechless, staring aghast at the piles of corpses, including Nero. Niles gripped the occultist by lapels of his cloak. Bryce thought Niles might kill him himself.

  “He’s killed Nero! What the fuck are we going to do now, hmm?”

  Bryce had to get away from them, try and clear his head. He staggered through the sewer tunnel in a daze, feeling a satisfied smile on his face amidst all the carnage he’d handed out to the Lepers. The arm was grateful for the slaughter and it had repaid him by staving off the agony. But for how long, the bounty hunter wondered. His macabre elation was cut short by Vorn’s sharp tongue.

  “Colton, you imbecile—you’ve killed our only guide to the place we’re searching for!”

  Bryce chuckled and felt the weight of the still warm .44 in his brand-new right hand.

  “I saved your ass,” he said. “You’d be like the rest of these sons of bitches if it weren’t for me.”

  The bounty hunter watched Vorn assess the state of the dead Lepers at his feet, yellowed flesh forming putrid puddles that flowed back into the river of human waste.

  “Yes, but why on earth did you have to shoot Nero?”

  Bryce turned to stare at the Flesher’s body, Niles was huddled over the corpse, a mixture of rage and disbelief on his face, but when the billionaire looked upon the bounty hunter, the rage was definitely more evident.

  “Well, the freak led us into this trap, didn’t he?” Bryce said, holstering his weapon. “He got what he deserved.”

  Niles strode over the dead Lepers to stand toe-to-toe with his charge.

  “Well, now we’re lost aren’t we, you dumb shit?” Niles said, eyes wide with desperation. “You got any bright ideas on how we’re supposed to find this place now?”

  Bryce shrugged. “We could always just leave—”

  “Leave—are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t come all this way and trudge through all this shit just to turn around and go home. I want to see where Nero came from!”

  Bryce rubbed the back of his hand on his nose and brushed past Niles.

  “Yeah, well, I couldn’t give a shit about what you want anymore.”

  Niles reached into his coat and drew his own gun—a gleaming Sig Sauer 9mm.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Colton?!”

  Bryce turned and Niles’s jaw dropped when he saw hit hit-man had his own cannon drawn and cocked.

  “Wherever the fuck I want, Niles, you piece of shit!”

  The man’s chin fat quivered. “If you don’t come with me…I’ll have to cut your fee.”

  Bryce smirked, but the smirk was unlike him. “So what—I got plenty of money. What else you got to sell before I put a hole in you?”

  “You fucking prick! After all I’ve done for you—”

  “Done for me? All you’ve ever done is exploit me, Niles—sure you’ve paid me, but look what I’ve got to show for being in your employ now?” He held up his right arm and it was bleeding anew.

  Vorn studied it in the murky light and saw the limb was pulsing, the demon arm was renewed with life and latching onto more than just Colton’s body.

  “I had nothing to do with what happened to your arm—that was Vorn!” Niles said.

  Bryce cocked his head—and his gun—in the occultist’s direction. “Oh, yeah, that’s right—Vorn old buddy, how you doing?”

  He saw Vorn swallow in fear, yet the occultist stayed perfectly still. A smart move. If he ran, he’d end up just like Nero.

  “Mr Colton, you need to listen to me. You’re not yourself—the arm is attempting to command you and you must fight it!”

  “My arm?” Bryce said, considering its shiny red surface.

  “The Kasarch ash is seeping into your bloodstream, Mr Colton and unless you concentrate, it will end up controlling your entire body. You will be little more than a puppet!”

  Bryce saw his phantom limb as if for the first time and he was terrified. When he looked to his Niles and Vorn, they shared the same expressions of confusion and terror. “What…do I do?” he said. “You…have to help me.”

  Vorn placated him. “Alright Mr Colton, it’s going to be all right. There might be something I can do. If you just lower your weapon, then we can all rest and I can think.”

  The .44 Magnum trembled in Bryce’s demonic hand. “Just…fucking help me!”

  “Yes, Mr Colton, I will. Now please put the gun away. It’s your gun remember? Just put it back in the holster and Niles, if you could please put yours away as well—”

  “No fucking way!”

  “Niles please!”

  Niles uncocked his pistol and reluctantly put it back in his coat.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing Vorn,” he said.

  “Yes I know what I’m doing. Now it’s your turn Mr Colton.”

  Shaking, Bryce holstered his gun, the steel sliding into the leather slowly and snugly. Vorn and Niles breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

  “Good, good,” Vorn said. “Now why don’t we all just sit down for a moment?”

  With little alternative, the three men sat amongst the congealed pools of Leper flesh. Bryce nestled his head in his hands, physically and spiritually wracked, a mix of shock and disbelief mingling in his gut. Niles was all angst and impatience, he would rather have been elsewhere if it hadn’t been for his incessant
greed. Vorn was determined to rise above his own apprehension and use his mind and talents to find a way to carry on.

  “Niles, do you have any water?” he said.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, hand it to Mr Colton—he needs it. You need to nourish yourself too I imagine.”

  Niles hauled himself to his feet and offered the flagon to Bryce, who simply shook his head in refusal. The billionaire promptly drank, indifferent.

  “Mr Colton you must drink,” Vorn said.

  “I don’t need a fucking drink!” Bryce retorted. “I need you to get this ash shit out of me!”

  Vorn sighed. “It’s not that simple, Mr Colton—the ash saved you yes, but there was always going to be the risk that it would also infect you. But if I can think of a way to stop it spreading—”

  Niles looked at the Leper corpses and grimaced. “Yeah, but look at how it helped Bryce nail these freaks—I say we let it run.”

  Vorn scoffed. “And what would you do if the ash suddenly made Mr Colton turn his gun on you again, Niles? No, we cannot allow it to take hold of him.”

  Bryce turned his tear-soaked eyes to the occultist. “Then…I’ll cut it off.”

  “What?” Niles said, appalled.

  “No Mr Colton that won’t be happening.”

  “I’ve got to do something…it’s…starting to hurt again!”

  “Well, we can’t sit here all night,” Niles said. “If we don’t get moving more of those…things…might come.”

  “Yes, yes, alright, Niles,” Vorn said, exasperated. “Just sit with Mr Colton and keep an eye on him a moment while I take a look at our friend Nero.” Vorn walked to the Flesher’s corpse and found it face down, arms spread-eagled east and west.

  “What for—he’s dead?” Niles said.

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean he no longer has anything to offer. I should have realized this before, but I’ll admit I lost my nerve when Mr Colton shot him.” The occultist rolled Nero’s body over onto its back and he recoiled at the sight of it—specifically its face. It was cracked like a broken mirror, the dermis and epidermis exposed and raw. “Remarkable,” the occultist said.

  “What is?” Niles asked, craning his head to get a look over Vorn’s shoulder.

  “It appears Nero’s regenerative abilities vanished with his death—decomposition was instantaneous and going by the appearance of his skin, I’d say he had been staving off death for a very long time.”

  Niles interest piqued. “So…you’re saying he was older than he looked?”

  “Perhaps the devouring of flesh somehow prolonged their lives—most interesting.”

  Niles pondered the possibilities. “Yeah…priceless even,” he said.

  Vorn held up a finger. “If you could both stay silent for a moment. I have some work to do.”

  Vorn focussed on a thought—a spell. He blocked out Niles and Bryce, slipping outside the reality of the sewers. He cradled Nero’s lifeless head in his hands, pressing his thumbs over the eyelids. He closed his own eyes and imagined himself looking through the dead Flesher’s orbs.

  At first there was darkness—the void of death—but with a rapid flutter of his eyes, Vorn was able to retreat from the endless shadow into life—the life of Nero. Images rolled over and over: the shooting that claimed his life, his tortures by Vorn and Bryce, the medallion, the attack on Nero and his mysterious companion by the gigantic snake beast, their argument beforehand, and their journey from the city.

  Then Vorn turned his own aura full circle, back to the point Bryce Colton killed him. Light and life, then darkness. Vorn could see Nero trudging through a landscape of shadows. The tunnels in negative. The creature was lost, the trail he left in his wake was as tangible as a spattering of blood. The existing connection between them made the task so much easier. Vorn reached out and took hold of Nero’s soul and the monster shrieked, his cry echoing off the black space.

  Vorn sneered. “Hello Nero, I apologise, but I need your assistance one final time.”

  Bryce flinched when the occultist slipped from his trance, with an icy gasp. He didn’t know where Vorn had gone, but he feared where he’d come back from.

  “I’ve found it!” Vorn rejoiced.

  “What—how the fuck did you manage that?” Niles said, getting to his feet.

  “Quite simple really,” Vorn said, pushing Nero’s corpse away. “I managed to extract the last few days of Nero’s soul. The residue lingers for a while after death, just like the hair and fingernails continue to grow in the grave.” He dusted off his hands and returned to stand beside them, while Niles was overjoyed, Bryce felt sick. Sick of all the darkness that surrounded Vorn.

  “Right, so we can get going then?” Niles said.

  “Yes, soon, but first I need to take a look at our friend Mr Colton.”

  Bryce recoiled as Vorn approached and took his head in his hands.

  “Don’t touch me,” Bryce said.

  “It’s alright, Mr Colton,” Vorn said. “I need you to listen to me now, it’s very important. I need you to focus as we have a task at hand. Do you understand?”

  Bryce nodded in acceptance because he feared what Vorn would do, but his hold was slipping, his eye-sight shifting in and out of focus.

  “Alright, good,” Vorn continued. “Now, I want you to concentrate and take out your gun.”

  Niles took a step back. “Vorn are you fucking nuts? You only just got him to put it away before!”

  “Be quiet Niles!” he said, and Bryce could almost feel the coldness of Vorn’s eyes. “Mr Colton, take your gun with your right hand.”

  Bryce slipped his right hand down to his hip, his arm eager to please. The bounty hunter felt the steel, cold on the burning skin of his hand—his demon hand. He pulled the firearm from its holster in one smooth motion.

  “Good,” Vorn said. “Now, look at the gun, study it closely: the barrel, the grip, the chamber of rounds. Examine every chink and dent in it. The gun is decades old and has been your right hand for just as long. Remember the first time you held it—the first time you fired it. Remember how it smelled afterwards, how powerful it made you feel.”

  Bryce followed Vorn’s every instruction and slowly, but surely, the searing desire in the flesh of his right hand began to diminish.

  “I…see it,” Bryce said.

  “Excellent,” Vorn said. “Now hold out the gun, stretch out that arm as far as you can, but look only at the gun—keep your gaze on it.”

  Bryce complied, his long arm thick beneath the sleeve of his long coat.

  “Now stand up, Mr Colton, remembering to never take your eyes off the gun.”

  The hit-man stood, a little unsteadily on his legs and held the weapon like it was a dead weight in his hand. Vorn stood too and motioned for Niles to get behind him.

  “Pull the trigger, Mr Colton and don’t blink!”

  Bryce squeezed and the hammer came down hard.

  CLICK!

  With the action complete, Bryce’s felt his gun hand fall by his side, swinging limply, yet in his mind’s eye, all he could see was his arm outstretched, ready to fire. In between the flickering in his head, he could hear Vorn’s voice, instructing him to keep his eye on his gun.

  Niles walked over to stare at Bryce’s blank face. “What the fuck did you do to him, Vorn?”

  Vorn readjusted his cloak on his shoulders, preening himself. “Simple mesmerism, Niles, that’s all. I’ve given Mr Colton something to focus on instead of his arm. In his mind, he’s ready to attack whenever we need him to be on guard. All I need to do is say the magic word.”

  Niles clicked his fingers in front of Bryce’s face. No response.

  “He’s like a goddamned zombie!”

  “More like an automaton actually.”

  Niles shook his head. “Vorn you are one dangerous son of a bitch!”

  “I suppose I should take that as a compliment—now come on, we still have a long way to go.”

  “How long?” Niles said
.

  “Oh, about five or six miles.”

  They began to walk and Vorn had to remind himself of Bryce’s diminished capabilities.

  “Oh, forgive me Mr Colton—come now.”

  Bryce stepped towards them, with his normal gait, but his eyes were unwavering, like he was blind to the rest of reality. Yet his feet still sensed where to step and where not to, guiding him between the Leper corpses.

  “That’s fucking amazing Vorn. Do you think after this little trip we can leave Bryce like this—he’d be a hell of a lot easier to handle—and less expensive!”

  “I don’t think that would be very fair on Mr Colton, do you? Besides, we still have to ensure that at the end of your so-called “little trip” we’re all still alive.”

  29

  The world was a triptych: black, white and grey.

  Thomas could see it all with his new eyes, the way light and shadow danced the perfect distance apart, the way order was drawn out of chaos and vice versa. It was a thing of beauty, this knowledge, this truth and at last it had set him free.

  He awoke in his old apartment a new man—new men, three in one. Okin thundered in his veins, urging him to fulfil his purpose while Braegan, the slain lover, spoke to him in histrionics of ancient quarrels and laws. All that language would have shattered the human soul, but Thomas had been born to hear it, understand it and ultimately, use it to set the world right again.

  Thomas stepped outside the apartment into the hallway, closing the door on his past for good. He breathed the air—the breath of the future—and it tasted right. He walked down the hall to the stairwell and with enthusiasm, jumped down the stairs, floor after floor until he stepped out onto the city streets.

  It was mid-afternoon and humanity was about its daily ritual of conversation and exchanges of love and hate, peace and war. They paid Thomas no heed, he was simply a non-descript man, stepping out from a non-descript building. Ignorance was their bliss, which in turn, made them the perfect prey.

  At the thought of flesh, the urge stirred like a babe in the womb, but the instinct was amplified a thousand times over. With each passing glance, at each passing man or woman, the urge either rose or fell, like a beacon—a signal to his hunger. What it meant, Thomas was not certain, but it was clear Okin asking him to pay it heed.