by David Beers
Leon sat down in his chair across the room, his hands perfectly flat on his knees. A drop of blood hung on the end of his nose. It might have been snot had the red tint and massive gash not been there. It hung, not dropping because Leon wasn't allowed to move enough to shake it off. Paige wondered, crazily, if it tickled. If it was almost maddeningly annoying, hanging from his nose like that. Why would she think something so weird, given that lengthy hole in his face?
Paige knew what she had to do, and really, she wanted to do it. There wasn't any doubt in her mind, no wish for another way out.
She had to kill herself. She had to find a way to die in this hellish apartment. Leon probably didn't have to worry about that; he was going to die one way or another, either from infection or because Manny finally had enough and just ended Leon himself. Paige though? She was being fucking groomed. She was being groomed to take care of the child that Manny carried around almost constantly (except when the two of them had 'naughty time' as Manny called it), being groomed to take care of their possibly already conceived child. Paige would live, if Manny had anything to do with it, and she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't allow this to continue, not forever. Caesar wasn't going to arrive. No one was coming for her and Leon. No one was coming for Jerry. The only thing she had left, the only hope for her, was to die.
* * *
The three of them stood at the window, looking out. They were ten floors up, having simply walked into another completely destroyed apartment. There were blood stains on the floor and any furniture left had been ripped apart. At least it isn't burnt though, Keke thought. There was that.
Grace had brought her back to Caesar and they found this apartment so they could watch the building across the street. The building that held Paige and Leon and Jerry. The building that Keke had traveled across the desert to see, apparently.
"It's a fortress," she said, her voice trailing off at the end. Caesar had told her what happened, but this was their first time looking at it since he escaped. She saw the city for herself, walking through it, doing everything she could not to be seen. She had nearly given up when Grace found her; it was why she walked the streets so brazenly. She didn't know how she was supposed to find the two of them, didn't know how she thought she ever would. She had just walked across the desert and now would die in some strange city on a fruitless quest. So she came out of the shadows and had Grace not found her, someone else would have, someone that probably didn't have the best intentions.
When Grace arrived, it was like someone grabbing her hand as she thrust it out of a shark infested ocean.
Looking out at the apartment complex in front of her, she didn't necessarily feel like she was drowning, but that the three of them now sat on a life raft, the sharks circling.
What could they possibly do to the people below them? Even Caesar had been repelled before, and now they were fortifying the place. Now they were building weapons that would fire on their own volition, that would keep invaders out without the need of a human controlling them. The people down there remembered Caesar, or rather, remembered what he had done. The ones that he didn't kill, anyway. They remembered the feeling of someone inside their head, someone controlling their very muscles. The weapons now being put into the walls were to make sure none of that happened again.
A fortress. That was the only way Keke knew how to describe what she saw below.
"I should have gone to them," Caesar said.
No one responded.
"I should have gone up and brought them out."
Keke knew that Caesar had seen something; Grace told her as much. She didn't know what it was though, only that he'd used Jerry to understand what was happening inside that building. He hadn't spoken since then, not until now, staring across the street. Grace had brought them here and he had followed quietly.
"You didn't know," Grace said.
Keke didn't want to ask what he had seen in Jerry.
"We can get inside," Keke said. "There has to be a way." She had come too many miles to stand here and give up. Those people down there, they had some kind of 'anti-virus' in them; Grace had gotten Keke up to speed. Grace believed it was something that induced anger, an almost insane rage. That didn't mean they killed everyone though, although Keke wasn't completely sure what helped them decide who needed to die. They still worked in cohesive groups; the fortress below showed that if nothing else. They weren't mad zombies; they were calculating, and that meant they could probably be reasoned with, even if only a bit. That meant maybe they could be fooled. "I can get in," she said.
"How?" Caesar asked, no surprise or reservation in his voice—a dead question.
Keke watched the people move below. The whole place was a hub of movement. The rest of the buildings in this city, once pillaged, were left alone. This one though, it wasn't being left alone. People inhabited it, constantly dragging out the dead to the middle of the street, and moving everything from weapons to entertainment centers. They were making this into some kind of home base, she thought, something that they could operate out of. Maybe Caesar had inspired it, maybe his little resistance made these people decide they needed something more organized. Regardless, people came and went from this place. And that was how she would get in.
"I'll become one of them, I suppose, and then I'll just walk through the doors."
Chapter Nine
The Life of Caesar Wells
There's a story I haven't told you yet, because I wasn't sure how. You're a thousand years down the road, or maybe time travel has been invented and you're a thousand years in the past. Regardless, we're not facing each other, so I'm not sure why I would have trouble telling this story, but I do. No excuses though; it needs to be told.
Manny lost control of me one time while I was in that apartment. I can't tell you how long I was there, whether a week or a year, it was just one long day. I've never tried to find out because I don't care. For the most part, the vast majority of the days, I sat in one spot on the couch, and was forced to stare at Paige just as she was forced to stare at me. When Manny took her, I was forced to watch that as well. Then, when he was ready, he'd set to carving on me some. Those were my days, over and over. Horror, followed by pain, followed by horror.
He did lose control once, though. Only once. Manny took Paige to the bedroom; I don't know why, even now. He seemed to take pleasure in having me watch. I don't think it was a voyeurism type thing, but I believe at least part of him knew he was assaulting Paige. At least part of him knew I cared about her. So when I watched, it hurt, and he knew it.
He took her to the bed though,just once, to rape her, and left me alone in the living room. I don't know when it happened, but at some point, his mind became so wrapped up in what he was doing, he lost me. Not for long, but for a few brief and wonderful minutes, I was free of him. It came to me slowly, not all at once, my muscles just slowly relaxing, my jaw loosening.
And then I was free. I was able to move. I was able to talk.
Instead of doing any of that, I cried. I sat in the chair by myself, and wept for the first time. Manny let Paige cry, a mercy that he never gave to me. All my emotions, my feelings, were crammed inside and not allowed out. Each time he cut, or each time he raped, a little bit more emotion was pushed down—with nowhere to go. Until that one time when Manny forgot about me.
I looked out at the room before me with tear filled eyes, the lights from the ceiling casting streaks across my vision. I looked down at my body, the parts I could see, and cried more. I heard the noises from the bedroom, all of them stemming from Manny.
At some point, I stood up. Bright, burning pain shot through my body and I fell to the floor immediately. I had no idea how much I relied on Manny now to keep me moving. It hurt when he pushed me forward, but I was always more scared of the pain that he would inflict rather than the leftover pain from past episodes. Lying on the floor though, I think for the first time, I knew I would never be okay again. Before, when I walked around at his beck and cal
l, he moved my legs, my arms. The pain was there, but dulled by the fear of what came next. When I stood up in that apartment on my own for the first time, no fear clouded the signals my body sent to my brain. That pain was real; it was everything. I could never come back from that, not fully.
I lifted my head from the floor and looked at the broken windows before me. The windows that had once been wall to wall in Caesar's house, now only jagged pieces of shattered glass from where Manny cast the previous owners out. Could I make it? Could I make it to those windows and roll myself out? Just fall and fall to one beautiful burst of freeing pain.
Then blackness.
I thought I could. I wouldn't be able to walk it, that was clear, but crawl? Yeah, I thought so.
I started across the room, moving over the shards of glass. I don't know how many times I stopped, my breath pumping in and out of my lungs like I was a sled dog in snow. I felt the glass cut me, but there wasn't much I could do. I tried to move it out of my way as I continued, but I never got it all. It cut new wounds and opened old ones, leaving a trail of blood behind me. I suppose I cried—almost silently, because I didn't want Manny to hear—all the way across the living room. I made it though; I made it to the end of the world as far as I was concerned and felt the cool breeze from outside blow across my skin. Time was a phantom, not really there, or if it was, then barely. I knew that Manny could come out at any second, knew that he might finish up and find me here, my intentions clear, and punish me—but that was all.
I remember looking down, seeing the clouds beneath me, only the overworked air generators from inside the apartment keeping me from passing out at this altitude. I remember thinking all it took was one simple roll and all of this would end. I looked back at the space I had traveled, twenty feet, every inch harder than the entire desert I crossed with Paige. A few more though, that's all I needed.
I didn't do it. I couldn't. I'm not sure if that makes me a coward or brave, but I sat there looking at all that open space and didn't dive into it. Jerry was still in this room, dead or alive, his body would be discarded like trash when it was all over. Paige was still here, having her entire psyche destroyed. Caesar... he was out there somewhere, and I had to hope he was coming for us. I had to hope that we had a chance, all three of us, as long as he lived. I couldn't leave them, not in here with that monster, not Paige alone, staring out at what now would be an empty room while I escaped. I couldn't make her face this horror alone, while I went to whatever bliss must await us after this life.
It must be bliss; I fully believe that now, because there's too much pain here. My wife, dead. My friends, destroyed. Everything I ever cared about, taken from me—and even with all that pain, I didn’t jump. I couldn’t leave Paige. She was all I had left.
I stared out the window for a long time, until the door opened to the back bedroom and I felt my muscles locking up again, felt Manny regaining his lost control.
"And what would you be doing all the way over there?" He asked.
The punishment came next. Goodness, did it.
Chapter Ten
Theo stood in front of the building, watching the flames spill out from the windows and lick their way up the metal exterior. The heat didn't just float out of the building, but seemed to pull him in, trying to grab a hold of him, knowing that he was something else it could eat. Something else it could feed on, to expand its reach on this world.
That's all fire wanted, was a chance to breathe, a chance to eat, a chance to consume everything it touched.
Black marks stretched high up the building as the fire did its very best to destroy, and if not destroy, then melt the entire structure.
But maybe the fire was trying to pull him inside, because Theo started walking forward despite everything in his body screaming at him to stop. It was senseless, beyond dangerous, but he kept walking forward, feeling the heat first make him sweat, then causing him serious pain.
He didn't stop though, didn't look down to see what the heat did to his flesh. Maybe it was pulling him forward, really, and maybe he didn't have a choice. He certainly felt that way because his feet didn't stop their boogie towards the lobby doors. What building was this? Had he ever seen it before? It wasn't the one he went to yesterday, certainly not, because that building hadn't been burnt. The people in it had been burnt, of course, a huge bonfire of humans out in the middle of the street, but the building itself? No, that was kept whole. So where was he?
He stood five feet from the burning doors, so close that he could reach out and stick his hand in the flames if he wanted. The heat was unreal, but as he looked down at the black uniform he wore, he saw that it wasn't burning. He wanted to stop walking, truthfully he did, but his feet wouldn't let him. He closed the final five feet with the same slow steps that brought him across the street. The steps of surety, sure that he needed to go inside.
Theo crossed the building's threshold, walking into an inferno.
And he knew why he was here now, knew with certainty why he had crossed that street and entered this building. It wasn't the heat calling, though the fire definitely wanted him. It was the dead. They were calling him here, wanting to see him, wanting to be seen.
There was a whole fucking party inside the building. A goddamn riot of fun happening.
There must have been a hundred people inside the lobby, all of them dressed to the nines, looking like this was some kind of black tie affair that he hadn't gotten the correct invite for. His suit wouldn't fit in here, no matter how black.
The women wore cocktail dresses and the men tuxedos with bow ties.
"More are coming, Theo," someone said to his right. "They're all upstairs, but they're on the way down."
Theo looked over to him and saw that fire had streaked up the right side of his body, burning through his cotton suit, and torching the flesh beneath. His face was on fire too, flashing up the side of his face and setting his hair on fire. The man smiled, and as he did the fire on his cheek flicked a little bit toward his mouth, molding to the shape of his burning skin.
"Have a drink," the man said.
Theo walked across the floor toward the bar, moving through the crowd of people.
"Pardon me."
"Excuse me."
The people all spoke as he parted them, but he said nothing, his mouth closed and his feet leading the way.
They were all on fire. Every single one of them. Dresses were completely engulfed. One man drank a glass of champagne while his feet burned. The fire hadn't yet made its way to the man's slacks, but it would soon. Theo was sure of that.
He found the bar, crowded by people, but a space open for him and he went to it.
"Can I help you?" The bartender asked. His right arm burned, and through the flicks of fire, Theo could see the flesh underneath, red, hot, and beginning to blacken.
"What's happening here?" Theo asked, sweat dripping off his brow, already pooling on the bar countertop.
"You should know, sir. You invited us here."
"Where is here?" Theo asked, unable to look away from the man's arm, the fire slowly creeping up his shoulder, trying to find the soft flesh of the man's neck.
"Here? Your mind, sir. We're the dead and this is your mind. It's a bit hot and growing hotter, but it's home now, isn't it?"
* * *
Theo opened his eyes, his breath moving heavy from his mouth. He felt his wet pillow and realized he'd been crying.
It was a dream.
It was just a dream.
He rolled over on his back and looked up at the ceiling. Light shined in through his windows.
Those people, all of them burning, and more are coming.
Oh, God in heaven, he thought. He sat up, slowly, putting his hands at his side and propping himself up against the wall behind him. All those people on fire, all of them drinking as if it was the gayest ball of their lives, not recognizing that their skin was melting off as surely as if they had been placed in a vat. Dancing, drinking, and talking.
&
nbsp; It was just a dream, nothing else.
He looked over at the wall next to him, the clock flicking on as he did, showing that he had an hour before he needed to meet Mock. He took his feet off the bed and touched the floor. For a brief, horrible second, he thought flames were lighting up around him, thought they would reach out to him in real life and burn him the same as they did those people in his dream.
There weren't flames though, of course, only the floor and walls lighting up, illuminating his room in the same way they had for the past ten years.
He stood up and dressed.
Theo rode to Mock's by himself, the train that drove him his personal one now. He no longer needed to ride with anyone else, though it wasn't like many people rode the trains nowadays anyway.
He kept thinking back to the building, the lobby, to the flames flirting with the bartender's neck.
Here? Your mind, sir. We're the dead and this is your mind.
They were living there now, huh? Theo sighed, looking out at the wrecked city below him. It was only a dream, but easily the most terrifying dream he ever experienced.
He met Mock at the base of the building they had attacked yesterday. The bonfire of bodies still burnt a half-mile down the road. Theo hadn't eaten in two days or else he would have thrown up from the stench. He didn't know how all these people were working underneath its unending permeation. How they were putting weapons on the walls or still dragging out bodies to throw them on the massive fire.
"What exactly are they doing here?" Mock asked. They stood nearly in the same place that Theo had stood in his dream last night, fifty feet or so from the doors. The doors in Theo's dream hadn't been broken though; there was no digital glass to hold people back here. People simply stepped through the holes they had made.