Fallen Nation: Party At The World's End

by James Curcio

  We commend our Brother;

  And we commit his body to the ground;

  Earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

  The wind bless him and the waters keep him,

  The wine returns to blood again…

  This blood feeds the earth;

  For out of it wast thou taken:

  For dust thou art,

  And unto dust shalt thou return.”

  The Jury repeated each line in hushed tones with their heads bowed, hands interlocked. Their masks were gone. If Dionysus wasn’t mistaken they were actually weeping, the saline water running clear streaks through his dried blood. When the Judge finished his curious eulogy, they picked up the sarcophagus and solemnly carried it to a tube behind the bench. They heaved.

  He plummeted through slimy water, past clusters of fungus that grew in fat packets around girded edges in the tubing. The sarcophagus fell into the cold deep with a splash that echoed for miles up into the sewers. A single bubble escaped to the surface of the water, sat there a moment before bursting and then all was still.

  Soft hands moved over his remains, melding them back together again. Through a veil of cloth he could make out the face of someone very familiar to him, though he couldn’t place it.

  Finally he was able to speak. “Who are you?”

  She smiled and put a finger to his cracked lips. “Shhh. Just a little while longer now.”

  Humming in my bones. This is the part where I look around, and going outside, forget who I am… Rows of herbs in labeled bottles above an old stove with gas burners. The more I pry into the sensation of being here, the more the room pulses around me, fading into a cold abyss and then returning.

  Two eyes regard me from beyond this abyss, bringing me out of a final dip into darkness. She is wearing a dress, and I cannot discern its color. Is it blue? Green? She gestures with her hands while she is talking – she has been speaking to me slowly, comfortably. Those thin hands look like two doves, her fingers curled outwards like fragile feathers. Her lips are thin and yet full, I am watching them move, so slowly.

  I can feel my weight compressing in the chair beneath me, the sensation of my breathing, and now I am really here. Alright, what is she saying, now that I am here, now that I can pay attention?

  “…I had been looking for you for so long…The story isn’t yet finished, love.” She poured wine into a glass. It rushed and gurgled like a brook. “There is one thing you have left to do.”

  My sense of time and perspective keeps jittering: forward, backwards. I am inside myself and then watching myself from the corner.

  She offered the cup to him. A plain teakettle in the background whistled, but she ignored it.

  “I’m done, I’m done, I’m done,” he said. It droned on in his dusty skull. “They’ve taken of my flesh. There is nothing left.”

  She handed him the glass and smiled. Faint lines appeared around her eyes. “It isn’t your place to say. We exist to serve humanity, even if they are tantrum throwing two-year-olds. Do you give up on your toddler when he’s thrown a ball through the window? You clean it up. Drink this, you’ll feel better.”

  Her lips lightly grazed his cheek, and she patted him on the head. “You need to prepare them for what is about to happen. Then you can rest a while.”

  “What is going to happen?” he asked.

  “You already know that. But…if you don’t let go and open up to it, it will shut you down. Maybe even tear you apart. You won’t be good to anyone like that.”

  “Um,” he said. “I think your tea is ready.”

  Beneath the howling of the steam, he could hear voices – millions of them, shrieking in horror – and the crashing of waves. Mother wiping away buildings like children’s toys.

  When he looked up, there were tears in her eyes.

  Dionysus sat upright in his bunk. “I am the Green man!” he exclaimed.

  Ariadne rolled towards him. “Hm. What babe?”

  “Weird dream.”

  She hugged him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  Amber’s snoring and the other sounds around the cabin were keeping her up. Ariadne smiled. Snoring normally drove her insane. But something about Amber, the way she could mix grace with total trashiness, made it cute instead of intolerable. She had the seemingly fragile beauty of a fairy princess, but the manners and unflappable poise of a sailor. That was it.

  Ariadne sat up and pushed stray dreadlocks out of her face. They had developed at first by accident, the result of life on the road, but she liked the look of them. They just felt right, somehow.

  Dionysus was gazing out the window. She studied his face, but couldn’t read his thoughts in it. “What’s up?” she asked, startled somehow by the sound of her own voice.

  He nodded almost imperceptibly, and rolled towards her. He laid one of his hands in her lap, but said nothing.

  Ariadne spoke instead. “I was just thinking, what if I hadn’t bought that ticket and went to the show?”

  “Is that really what you were thinking?” he asked.

  “No. Well, not until I said it.” She took his hand.

  The two of them sat together in silence.

  Eventually Ariadne spoke. “I was actually thinking about Lilith. Dionysus, sometimes...sometimes she terrifies me. I mean, I’m undeniably attracted to her...it’s impossible not to be, isn’t it? But she still scares me.”

  Dionysus opened his mouth to argue, but the image of Lilith’s cold, hungry smile stopped him. “Me too. I am drawn to her, but it’s like that cliche of a moth to a flame.” He paused. “I love you. I can’t help myself.”

  “We all have that problem from time to time,” Ariadne said, smirking at him as she ran her finger across the back of her arm.

  “Flirt,” he said, returning her smile.

  “Why? That’s what I’m wondering.”

  He thought about it. It was as if Lilith was always right behind him, haunting the cracked mirror as he brushed his teeth, blurry, but still winsome even through flecks of dried toothpaste. Walking home from school as a young boy, his books clutched tightly in the crook of his armpit, splashing through puddles – her eyes danced in the ripples.

  He couldn’t bring himself to say any of that, though. They lay together in silence for so long that he assumed she had fallen asleep, until she spoke. “When you say you love me, what do you mean.”

  “Who the hell knows? I’m sure you’ve had people where, you couldn’t explain it if you tried, but everything reminds you of them. They possess your thoughts. Your dreams.” He thought again of Lilith. But that didn’t seem like love.

  “I have,” she said quietly.

  “Lilith has the power to possess. I feel I can say anything to you, I love you to death, but it doesn’t cloud my judgment.”

  “It just doesn’t...intoxicate you. I’m like an old trusty pair of jeans. Comfortable, but don’t wear them out of the house.”

  “Oh, Christ. Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”

  She just laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Love whomever you love. Where’s my place to mess with that? That’s not at all the fear I was talking about.”

  “I’m saying, with her, it’s like it comes from the outside, it overpowers me. It’s not from within. I told you about how I first met her, right? In a dream,” Dionysus said.

  “You told me a bit about it. Woe is you. Sounded hot as hell.”

  “If it wasn’t like being thrown to a pack of reef sharks in a frenzy, it would’ve been.”

  Ariadne laughed. “I’m still trying to figure out where we’re headed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving it. Nothing has felt so right in my life. But it’s obvious this is Lilith’s game, and she holds the cards close to her rather delicious chest. And...there’s no getting off.”

  “Why would you want to?” Dionysus asked.

  “No, exactly. Who would possibly want to get off the bus? Come along with us, all expense paid trip into the rock and roll apocalypse. I don�
�t know,” she said, kissing the small of his back softly. “But I’m a little scared.”

  It was Artemis’ idea to incorporate security directly into the show. Half-naked girls painted gold dancing with crossbows, that sort of thing. At first, Loki questioned her logic, but as usual let her run with it.

  She was right. He was discovering this more frequently than not, and felt an odd, almost paternal pride when she would pipe up with some crazy plan that made sense. Not only did it step up the live act, but pretty soon they had ex-Olympic Russian acrobats covering their six. Who could complain?

  They’d just finished another show. Campfires twinkled in the night air, a pale reflection of the open sky above. They were in the Southwest, planning to turn north next.

  Dionysus sat alone on a rock plateau, surveying the lights beneath. The wind carried the bite of both sand and cold with it, and he pulled his blanket closer around him. Autumn wasn’t the same in the desert as it was in a deciduous climate, he thought. But you could still feel it in your bones. It felt like they were approaching a turning point, a true point of no return.

  He heard the tinkling of stones skipping down the trail, and spoke without moving.

  “Ariadne?”

  Her footfalls had become familiar. Someone else was with her.

  “We’ve come up here to make you quit your brooding, anti-hero bullshit.”

  “I’m not brooding, I’m thinking.”

  “Whatever.” Two hands perched on his shoulders, a chin rested on his head. Another hand reached in front of him, holding a palm full of mushroom caps.

  Finally he turned around to find himself looking into Amber’s enormous pupils. A smirk was plastered on her face.

  “My God, girls, do you ever stop?”

  Amber just wiggled her hand a little.

  Mock-sighing, Dionysus scooped up the shriveled fungus and chewed it slowly.

  “You know, I really don’t need these anymore,” he said, talking around the caps. “I’ve opened all those doors already. I can–”

  “Shut up and chew, Grandpa,” Ariadne said from behind, patting him on the head.

  When he finished the first handful, Amber showed her other hand.

  Dionysus sighed for real that time.

  Hours, eons, or seconds later, the three of them were seated on an airplane. Two aisles across. Dionysus guessed it was a 767 wide-body, and didn’t bother to wonder how they got there. He glanced at the pamphlets in the seat in front of him, but only found a couple palm sized rocks.

  The engines thrummed along pleasantly, interrupted by the occasional cough.

  Ariadne turned to Dionysus. “How did we get here?” she asked.

  “How long have we been here?” Dionysus replied, shrugging helplessly.

  The three of them sat silently for a moment. A stewardess passed, asking if they needed anything.

  “Ginger ale?” Amber asked.

  Squinting out the window, Dionysus only saw blackness at first, and then flashing lights at the end of the wing. Wrapping his hands around the glass to block out glare, he moved closer and waited for his night vision to adjust. Instead of seeing the tell-tale lights of a city, he saw a black shape shoot across the wing.

  “What are the chances, do you think, that a marsupial or simian could survive on the wing of an airplane, traveling at five hundred miles an hour, at thirty five thousand feet?” he asked, pulling away.

  “A what or a what?” Amber asked.

  “A marsupial or a simian,” Ariadne said.

  “Like a, um. Lemur. But faster. And meaner.” Dionysus squinted out the window again, chewing on one of his nails pensively.

  “Oh,” Amber said.

  The plane suddenly jolted, lurching violently to one side. The lights flickered, and oxygen masks descended from the overhead compartments like flaccid testicles.

  “Those look like–” Amber said.

  Ariadne giggled.

  Everyone else in the cabin screamed for their lives. An announcement was blaring through the tinny speakers. Something about immanent destruction. Dionysus ignored it.

  “Bloody things are tearing the engines off,” he said. “Just like in the Twilight Zone.” He took another look. “They don’t really look so much like marsupials anymore.”

  Ariadne laughed hysterically as they plummeted through the clouds and into a shopping mall. Metal sheered and shrieked as glass powderized into the air in a rainbow cloud. It twirled gracefully around the wreckage, like dragons on Chinese New Year. Books, stuffed animals, overcoats and televisions poured from the shelves as they shuddered past the jewelry aisle and a flock of slack jawed housewives. The plane’s double tires splattered all the would-be shoppers that had the misfortune of being in its path. They popped like cherry tomatoes and left a red smear all the way from what was left of Macy’s down to the food court, where the shattered vehicle finally came to a lurching stop in front of Taco Bell.

  All was silent in the cabin, charred black with smoke and fire. Outside, the lights of rescue vehicles flashed, but there were no survivors, and no vehicles.

  Dionysus turned towards Amber, about to comment on how odd it was that they were still alive, when he saw her bite her lip. She sighed and closed her eyes. Ariadne was licking her ear and running her hand between Amber’s slowly parting thighs.

  The thought did cross his mind – for a moment – that this was an unusual time for sex. But only for a moment. One of his hands wandered under Amber’s shirt, finding her pierced nipples already hard. The other gently lay on top of Ariadne’s damp fingers as they explored under her skirt.

  Looking at him through wisps of Amber’s hair, Ariadne smiled and hiked up her skirt further.

  Taking the hint, he leaned over, kissing his way up her thigh. She shivered appreciatively. As he leaned forward, he felt his hands sink into the dust.

  He looked around. They were on the plateau. Drums beat ceaselessly in the distance.

  “We weren’t on a plane,” Dionysus said matter-of-factually, looking up at Ariadne, past Amber’s now exposed breasts.

  “Huh. Guess not,” Ariadne said.

  Dionysus leaned forward again.

  –

  They passed out in a contented pile shortly after the sun crested the horizon.

  Ariadne drifted in sensations, untethered from time and space. Her mother was smiling above her. She was encircled by a crowd of wrinkled faces, atop a picnic table. She put her foot in the birthday cake, and the smile turned to a frown. Three candles, and such tiny toes. The sticky icing oozing between them turned dry. She was on a beach. Sun-blinded and breathing in the smell of salt, sand and crabs baking in the heat.

  Her hand closed around another. The shape of it, its warmth, the tingle she felt throughout her body when fingertips touched, were all impossibly familiar. An electrical circuit seemed to close as their fingers intertwined.

  When the circuit closed, she was fixed again in one place, one time. She rubbed her eyes, and was surprised by what she saw when they opened. No longer on that ridge, and Amber was nowhere to be seen. Dionysus was curled around her. They were both in a labyrinth of stone and forgotten memories.

  “Hey,” she said, running the back of her hand along his cheek. He mumbled to himself, but didn't stir. Changing tactics, she bit his ear.

  “Fuck!” He flailed pointlessly, and then looked around. “Where's this?” he asked absently as he stared at a baby hanging from a tree above him, squirming in its glowing amniotic sac.

  “I don't know. I've been here before, though...I think,” Ariadne said. She started to stand up but he grabbed her arm and pulled her close.

  “Does it really matter?” he asked.

  She held him close and thought for a moment. “Except–”

  She was cut off by a sound that sent a shiver through her, like the monstrous hybrid of a bull and a locomotive had been set loose in a crowded theater. She was on her feet and running before Dionysus could get out a word.

  He cha
sed after her. “Hold on!”

  She didn't reply, though she did cast him a horrified look over her shoulder.

  “Listen– Hey, stop!” He caught up with her, grabbed her. She shook in his arms. “We're dreaming.”

  “Together?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Look.”

  Behind them, a twisted beast was galloping through the labyrinth, uprooting trees, shooting sparks from under its metal hooves. She jolted to run, but he held her still. “Look at it. Trees with fruit babies. A... Whatever the fuck that thing is...”

  It almost had them. She closed her eyes, tears leaking from between her eyelashes. What would it be like to be gored to death, impaled through the cavity of her chest on one of those rusted horns?

  “Look,” Dionysus said again, gently this time.

  She did. Everything seemed to slow and turn to white, a warm snowstorm that blotted out everything save the feeling that she was going to be alright.

  There was little movement in the desert during the day, aside from the rustling of dried brush in the wind, or the occasional Imperial woodpecker, hacking a home into the side of a bloated saguaro. Artemis paused to survey the girls, all of them dutifully repeating the Xing-Yi form she had just demonstrated. The sun scoured their skin, cooking out weakness.

  She caught Ariadne making a common mistake. The power in the first strike in the form came from an isomorphic pull, part of the body pushing forward, the other, twisting back. Torque. “Ariadne, hold on.”

  The others hesitated mid-movement.

  “What are you stopping for?” Artemis asked. Loki chuckled to himself. He was huffing and puffing below, fighting gravity in an endless series of pushups, a cigarettes clutched between his teeth.

  Ariadne walked over to Artemis, leaning down on her knees. Her cheeks were rosy.

  Putting her hand in front of Ariadne's face, Artemis said, “Stand up, and hit my hand. Just like you were doing.”

  Ariadne stood up and hit her hand. It didn't move much.”

  “You see what you did? You hit my hand. You didn't drill through it. My hand is an object between you and your target. It is something that's in your way.”