Spiral of Silence (The Unearthed Series Book 3)

by Marc Mulero

  She then took to her knees and slammed a pair of vascular fists into the concrete ground, cracking it. Jason nodded with a fanged smile and the smoke seemed to agree, because out of her rage appeared a semi-sphere of red smolder beginning to form in front of her, swirling and engulfing itself over and over again. This was it, the weapon that they’d hope to find. They could tell by its instability, how rapidly it drew haze straight from her body. Her breathing grew erratic in an attempt to concentrate. The power was growing. Growing. Until, finally, she threw her arms forward and shouted a wicked shriek, and with it, the smoke ran off, searing the ground in front of her at a speed that was almost incomprehensible.

  Jason’s eyes lit with excitement. “I’ve lived bodiless in this rapture for what has felt like an eternity and I’ve never seen it react with such haste. I was right to choose you. All that I’ve envisioned is now becoming truth.”

  Asura was out of breath from her tested strike. She remained on her knees, trying to comprehend what she’d just accomplished.

  With folded arms, Jason reiterated, “Again, Asura. We must cocoon until our mind has completed its expansion. We no longer have the luxury of hiding from the factions of this world. Gather yourself and culminate this power. Grow stronger before the unknowing try to impede on our destiny.”

  Eugene heard echoes of Jen’s voice and his own. It was like listening to a recording from his past, but not from a life he’d remembered. Words he would never speak were being spoken. It was an impossible feeling, like having multiple personalities and being the one benched on the sidelines. He was framed in his own body, and powerless to stop it.

  The conversations whizzed past, somewhere deep below or far above, he couldn’t tell. Unsettling anxiety stabbed him after every breath. Ten thousand miles away from home, silenced, thought to be a traitor, and betrayed by his love. Everything had fallen to waste.

  Though whatever he was now, there was still fight left in him. Every part of him flailed to stop this endless fall, to take back his hijacked body, and to save himself from the red gods. But it was no use. Jason was becoming more adept at ignoring him. And so life carried on in a distant realm without him, leaving his consciousness to wander this dream that persisted like a broken record.

  Hours passed, then days. The spark of life within him started to wane as time trudged forward. His plummet felt eternal. Boundless. It was as if he were sucked into the cosmos itself. But somewhere down the line, there was mercy. His body slowed, easing gently from its timeless fall until there was no more wind at his back. There was no impact or warning - momentum had just simply ceased. Skeptical, he scratched his head and stood hesitantly, experiencing a tingling numbness. Though the feeling quickly shook off when memories of old brightened around him. It was like a movie festival starring only him. The reels were consuming, inviting him into the world of his past to take another stroll.

  Memories used to haunt his every next move. But here he was living them, playing them out as a bystander trapped somewhere deep in his subconscious. Eugene looked at his hands, and then up to his arm where his Sin mark burned bright, staring like he’d been piecing together his body from the puzzle of his former life. He looked down at his chest to see his gun’s strap wrapped across his torso, and then suddenly bore the weight of his sniper rifle on his back. A hand pushed through dirty blond hair to make sure it was there, to make sure he wasn’t a phantom.

  “There’s nothing left for me up there. There’s no reason for me to go back, even if I ever could,” Eugene said aloud to himself, peering up toward the infinite tunnel that he’d fallen from. It was a funnel of blackness with trails of what could’ve been stars endlessly revolving. Smudges everywhere, orbiting in a cylinder. And every time he looked at it, a white noise took over his hearing – the same as he imagined outer space would sound. But when he looked away, its existence seemed to cease. Why?

  It was all useless, though. Why try to make sense of any of this?

  And once the decision was made, a ceiling slowly formed far above his head, clawing to block the boundless hole from his sight, and trapping him where he stood.

  The ground he started to trek across had a shadowy essence. A silky stream of darkness puddled around him after each step, leaving strands of spectral matter to ripple away from his booted feet. Inky blotches of space splattered all around him like starbursts to bestow a sloppy, dark path of black and deep purple. And then through squinted eyes, he saw a speckle of brightness stand out a ways ahead of him. A figure of light fell into existence, materializing from thin air. It had no definite shape that Eugene could pinpoint, but it seemed to be skipping ahead, and he could have sworn he heard a faint giggle come from it.

  “Ugh, I was kind of looking forward to being alone down here,” he sighed, not at all fazed by the ball of light prancing in front of him.

  He followed it, not knowing what else to do with his time. “I feel like myself. This is my body… my arms, my legs, my hair. Is this some kind of projection of who I was? What am I?” he said aloud, hoping that the embodiment of light would provide some clarity.

  The energetic figure did no such thing. Instead, it gestured up with two flickering arms, to a memory that filled Eugene’s cheeks with heat and sucked his eyes dry.

  “Jen,” he said with a parched throat, watching her being ripped away from his reaching hand.

  The boat of exiled broke into the riot that it had many times before in Eugene’s mind. This time, though, he didn’t have to endure it alone – he had this body of light. He kept glancing at it, trying to figure it out. If it had a head, and that was a big if, it was tilted to watch the memory play out alongside him.

  This wasn’t right, though, was it? Why did this remembrance feel so real - less of a screened movie that took place long ago and more of a happening on a different plane of reality?

  This reel wasn’t a memory, but more of a direct port to his past, a vision occurring independently of his brain, like his signals got crossed. Why? It felt as though if he were somehow able to rise up and step over the line, he would be with his former self, living the horror all over again.

  Jen’s flailing arms reached for Eugene’s as she was hauled away by the lustful exile, and again, former Eugene was rendered powerless by the Hiezer guards restraining him. “Jen, no,” he begged on, fighting to get a glimpse of her between swinging arms and lunging bodies. “Bring her back!”

  But it was too late… she had already disappeared into the chaotic crowd, and the last thing he saw was her shoulder being bitten by her captor and her skin torn at with a rapist’s thirst.

  Once again, he was powerless. Useless. Every twist and jerk made in restraint reminded him how helpless he truly was. All he could do was shout.

  The corners of Eugene’s brow pulled down in renewed anguish. He looked over to the figure of light to see it looking away, as if it, too, had a hard time watching. It was then that the sniper realized his luminescent guide in this distorted space was a woman. He didn’t know why, but he decided it so, and then lifted his gaze back to the reel to see that it’d been fast-forwarded.

  Former Eugene was shoved into a room with three guards, but he recovered from the push like a poked bull - veins bulging out of his neck as he lunged at the Hiezer closest to him. Crack. A fist connected with a hard riot mask. He should’ve been hurt, but his fury was so fierce that it was the enemy’s head that twisted from the blow. There… an opportunity to strike again. A left hook and a right uppercut, under the mask into his chin. Perfect. He spat with rage and turned to the next, fist already in motion with the torque of his entire body behind it. There the next one went right off his feet.

  Leaving two of three stuck in a star-filled daze, the path became clearer with less obstacles. The time was now. He had to make a break for the door and save his love. His legs stomped the ground with fury, for each second that passed was another that Jen had to suffer. His vision became tunneled. Only the door could be seen. But then the side of his b
ody went numb and his eyes failed him. The third guard thwarted his hope, tackling him down before he could reach the handle.

  “Save her!” he shouted. “Please!”

  “We know who you are, Eugene,” the guard said, cuffing him to metal piping. “A first-rate sniper of the Remdons, serving without falter to the Hiezer regiment for years,” he spoke while holding his jaw, recalling the Sin’s file. “A Sin assault of a Hiezer is punishable by death. But given your history, we will let this slide.”

  “Just save her! She’s in danger, please,” his voice wavering in desperation.

  “Your girlfriend is the one who landed you here, and you still defend her?” the guard asked, beckoning more guards to assist. “We’ll do what we can, but we don’t have the manpower to settle the riot.”

  After whispered words between Hiezers, the head guard exited with an eye still on Eugene, seemingly with the intent to help him out. The crowd’s shouting and rustling was amplified when the door opened, and reduced back to a muffle when it shut. He tensed just thinking about her being lost in that jungle, but could only sulk in place for the time being.

  Eugene was left cuffed with the new guard surveilling him. Stuck. The time for fighting had passed. And so he reduced himself to his knees and let his head fall to the floor, feeling only the flow of the boat as it rocked back and forth… back and forth.

  “I could have done so much more,” Eugene said, retreating back from the memory projected above him. He dropped to his knees, wrestling with the same thoughts as his former self. “Why would I rely on them? How could I have been so quick to surrender?” He looked up once more.

  The vocal guard returned with blood streaked over his mask and shoulders. He bent forward and grabbed a fist full of hair, causing Eugene’s mouth to hang open from the strain of the pull. “She’s dead, sniper. I’m sorry,” the guard lied with a hint of brotherly compassion. The truth was, he couldn’t find the woman, and he needed his prisoner to stay calm. Present-day Eugene could see that now, so clearly.

  The Hiezer released Eugene’s hair and let his head smack back against the floor. Eyes grew bloodshot, not from physical pain though. Then they began to flood. It was uncontrollable - she was gone, and all that came to mind was the beauty of her smile.

  “Oh Jen,” he cried.

  Anxiety tugged at his heart, each memory relished was like another bullet wound. But this was worse. There was no blood, so it wouldn’t stop. This was hell, he realized, it had to be. He was sure of it.

  And that was just the beginning. Why was everything so vibrant now, only when she was gone?

  He could see them playing, her kicking her bare feet against him to try and resist him tickling her, then another thought reeled to the front of his mind – her latching onto his arm as they perused a farm to scope out one of her next work projects. They complained then about their jobs, their outdated apartment. Oh, but what he would give to be there again.

  Nothing mattered but that. Not his composure, not his strength nor his life. He took the Hiezer’s words for truth and broke into a sob, slamming his head repeatedly onto the floor.

  “She slipped from my hand, and everything changed. How could it have come to this?”

  Anger filled Eugene as he watched himself succumb to lies, his own weakness disgusting him. He felt he’d grown from his mistakes, but what did it matter now, when everything was already said and done?

  His gaze lowered to the woman made of light. “Why show me this again? What’s the fucking point?”

  The light cowered from Eugene’s ire, and then shook her head. She pointed up, back to the scroll of memories.

  He reluctantly looked again, and his anger faded into confusion. The scene had rewound to the fight between him and the three guards. Only this time, all of his swings connected. He didn’t run for the door, not yet. Instead, he turned to the third guard that tackled him in the last rendition, and kneed him in the gut. A follow-up elbow to the neck caused the man to keel over, giving Eugene the break that he needed to successfully escape.

  The onlooking sniper was glued to this revised version of history - befuddled, ecstatic by the change in his actions. He wanted with every part of him to believe this was the true chain of events. What else could he do but root for this version of himself? To dream that he was the hero…

  The altered memory continued in chaotic fashion – as soon as he swung that door open, a mess of writhing bodies was waiting. This was a mob, a militia. People were tossed, fists thrown, authority was overrun. It looked hopeless. Hiezers were scrambling to keep order, exchanging hesitant looks with one another, considering firing shots into the air in hopes to contain the violence, but thought again about putting holes in their ship.

  Rather, they chose a less valuable target - the Sins, and Eugene had a front row seat to it. He stopped and straightened in anticipation.

  “Don’t do it,” he warned quietly for no one to hear.

  But Hiezer backs were against the wall – they watched their brethren become overrun, and so with nothing left to do… it was time. The tat tat tat of gunfire sounded over all else. Flashes of fire, blood spatter, bodies down – the defilers causing the most destruction were taken first. It forced the crowd unto itself at first, until they realized how powerful their numbers were. Whether it was because of savagery or bravery, the mob turned again. Anger over fear. Munitions couldn’t stop this horde. The unrest was too great and the numbers were plentiful.

  Time was ticking. Eugene didn’t have the luxury to watch any longer, and so he hurled himself into the conflicted crowd, ducking a flying fist and wading through grappling bodies. A nightmare. “A fucking nightmare.” After every push he inched closer to the center, hoping, praying, begging that the direction the Sin took her was still the right one. But then, like two closing walls pressing into each other, sweat lathered bodies crammed together. Suddenly air became scarce, breath harder to catch. His vision was becoming spotty and the world was closing in.

  Every inhale meant a sliver more of room for the bodies against him to compress. Ribs felt like they were flattening into his spine. The scent of body odor singed his nostrils as if he was breathing poison, and when he opened his mouth to scream, nothing came out, not even air.

  This was it. The limit – capacity at maximum with nowhere else to go. He was stuck, swaying once more in the midst of a violent mosh pit.

  “Jen,” he gasped. “I won’t stop.”

  He had to find her, now. Desperation allowed him to puff his chest out once more, just barely making enough room so he could wriggle to the floor. It was worse down here – a sea of legs – many of them stumbling from another round of gunfire. “No time. No time.” He dropped to his belly to push on like a soldier under barbed wire, using his arms and shoulders as his guide, shoving tense legs away from his path and enduring the feet that found his back. One fell harder than the rest though, three maybe four hundred pounds of pressure stomped oxygen from his lungs. He rolled the foot off of him and begrudgingly kept on. Air was so thick that if felt like he was crawling through a building on fire. But he kept moving. Kept moving, until another heavy boot caused his shoulder to buckle. “Shit,” he cursed as pain shot up his back, wincing and faltering, but still fighting past against exhaustion. Jen was out there, he knew. She was still alive. No Hiezer got the chance to convince him otherwise this time.

  Finally, new light. He broke from the frenzy of rumbling Sins, got up to one knee, faltered, and then raced in the direction she was taken. This is where the savages were. He stopped short almost in disbelief of what he was seeing – a corner filled with the most vicious exiles making his anxiety rise tenfold. What lay before his eyes was like a brothel with no pay, no choice.

  A woman’s face contorted in anguish. Any scream that escaped her gaping mouth was drowned by the masses behind him. She was being fondled and groped – just like Nemura said it went down all that time ago. He cringed, but it wasn’t Jen, so he grudgingly moved on. Every other hor
rible instance his eyes touched was more of the same, but still, none were her. His heart thumped in his chest when a woman with the same body type as Jen’s swung to break free from a defiler. He could see only blurs of her face as limbs thrashed to stop the revolting aggressor.

  The torn clothes and scratched skin could have been hers, and such a sight ignited Eugene’s eyes like gasoline to a flame. He charged over to the animal attempting to force a kiss upon her face and wrapped a flexed arm around the man’s throat, constricting his airway. Then came a violent twist of his arm, one that echoed the snap of his neck. Struggling stopped, and the body instantly fell limp, arms collapsing to the floor.

  It took a second, but eventually Eugene stopped seeing red… then the victim fighting for her life came into view. She sat frozen, trembling, in shock, before she lunged forward in tears to wrap her arms around him.

  “Oh… th-oh,” she sobbed, “th-thank you, sir.”

  Her hair was blond, sure, but her face, it wasn’t Jen’s. He scoffed and shrugged the thankful woman off, his eyes growing wide and panic snowballing. It felt as if Jen’s fate rested on a ticking clock counting down. He pushed on, darting his eyes to scan the hallway of delinquents, realizing it was like a den of predatory animals dragging their prized prey to feast.

  A shiver crawled up the onlooking sniper’s spine because, out of nowhere, he heard a scream so familiar, so powerful, that it froze him in place.

  “Eugene!”

  Jen cried his name, the same as she once did in Auront. It was a plea for him to save her the very same. Déjà vu. It tore his heart in two to hear it again and he was now unable to turn away; he had to see how it ended.

  Former Eugene scrambled toward the voice, picking up to a full sprint down the hallway to the last abduction. His eyes finally revealed what they sought - Jen. She swung her head away from the advancing exile, hastily kicking to break free of his grasp. Her first day as a Sin was shaping up to be a brutal hazing. She sat curled in fetal position on the floor while the brute continuously tried to mount her.