The Broken Ones (Book 2): The Broken Families

by David Jobe

  Drew risked running at that point, before his underwear or his heart suffered irreversible damage. The road to the cemetery remained empty, though Drew could see lights off in the distance. Someone was at the graveyard with their car parked, but they were not close to the part he intended to go.

  When they did arrive at the gravesite, Drew found himself staring at the gaping hole where his father had been laid. The concrete dome they had covered him with remained in place, but all the dirt that had been shoved onto it was no longer there. Drew cast his creation a worried glance. “That’s not cool, dude,” he said, though he had no idea if he was talking to the creation or himself. “Alright, let’s finish this before someone comes.”

  He sat down in the dirt beside his father’s grave and began to issue more complex commands to his creation.

  The creature reached down and placed hands into the dirt at either side of the hole. From within the grave, the concrete lid began to rise. All along the edge large hands grabbed and pulled it upward until it rested just at the upper lip of the grave. Then the hands rose higher, becoming arms that extended high enough for the Golem to slip under. Standing on the concrete lip, it opened the coffin with one hand. Though Drew did not want to see it, he found himself looking down at the body of his father. The body of his mother began to emerge from the body of the golem much like it had gone in, but in reverse. Then the golem reached down and nudged the body of his father to one side. That offered it enough room to place the body of his mother next to his father. That done, the golem closed the lid of the coffin and began to pull itself out from under the concrete cover. Once free, the concrete cover began to descend back until it gave the dry gravel on gravel sound of connecting with the concrete sides of the grave. The golem dropped down onto the top of the gray dome. There is stood for a moment before it collapsed back into dirt that swept out and refilled the grave.

  Drew let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. He felt snot rolling down his upper lip, but when he went to wipe it off, he found it red and thick. “Blood.” His head hurt even worse now, and his whole body felt like he had been punched by every conceivable angle. For a while, he sat there staring at the grave of his parents, afraid that if he tried to stand he would collapse and be found by someone. Then they would try to find his mother and only find the note. Then all this would have been for nothing.

  When he felt like he could walk again, he stood and started making his way back toward the main road. As he turned, he gave a loud yelp as he found someone standing a few yards off, staring at him. Whoever it was, they stood in the shadows of a nearby tree, unmoving. “Hello?” He moved closer, wondering if he would have to summon his creation again. Worrying that he wouldn’t be able to.

  The person said nothing.

  “I can explain.” Drew inched forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person if they decided to run. “I really can.”

  Nothing.

  “I-“ Drew stepped closer and realized he had been talking to a statue. “Noob.” He shook his head. “You scared the shit out of me.” He marched over to the statue. “You-“ He stopped again.

  It had been a statue that he had seen earlier that day. He remembered now because he had thought it one of the coolest gravestones he had ever seen. Someone paid to have a life-sized statue of a knight in full armor standing over their grave. In its hands, it held a sword with the blade pointed down.

  Drew fished the leather-bound book out of his pocket and tried to read it, but there wasn’t enough light. He smirked at the statue. “I’ll be back for you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A Blind World

  Icy tendrils of cold slipped away. In their place, liquid fire poured into Brian’s head. He awoke with a gasp that shook his entire body, from hair follicles to the underside of his toes. His consciousness emerged from the darkness with the same suddenness as a drowning man breaches the surface of turbulent waters. Opening his eyes, he found the world a dizzying array of pain and light. After a few seconds, he found that he peered out at the world with only one eye. He tried using the other and white hot pain lanced through his brain.

  “You must’n move too much.” A face appeared to accompany the soft voice. A plump face with a welcoming smile eclipsed the light to stare down at him. “You are still healing and too much thrashin about could make matters worse.”

  “Where am I?” Brian tried to speak but the words coming out sounded like they belonged to a ninety-year-old smoker.

  “Hush,” the woman commanded. “Here, take slow sips of this.”

  He felt a straw touch his lips. He tried to lean forward but found that his head wouldn’t move.

  “You are hard headed.” She gave a chuckle. “In more ways than one. Drink, but slow.”

  Brian drank and the cold water tasted like heaven. After a few drinks, he felt the straw pull away. He mouthed for more, but the woman shook her head.

  “No idea how much your stomach can take right now. Take it slow. What do you remember?”

  Brian tried to think. What was the last thing he remembered? He had been on stage. Then the husband had started yelling at him. Then the gun and gunshots. Or had it been just one? “I got shot.”

  The woman shook her head. “Yes, but what do you remember after that?”

  “After?” The idea made Brian a bit dizzy. It felt like peering into darkness through a black blanket. He remembered bits and pieces of a dream. “I had a dream that I was having drinks with my mom on someone’s porch.”

  The woman’s eyes grew wide, those blue orbs of hers staring down at him with something in them. “Your mom? Is your mom moved on then?”

  “Moved on? What do you mean?”

  “Passed. Has your mom gone on to meet Jesus?”

  “You have a weird accent.” He tried smiling at her, but his face felt so numb he had no idea if he managed it.

  “That’s not nice to say to a lady.”

  “Sorry.” He tried to keep his thoughts in order. “My mom.” Brief glimpses of her on the porch, laughing at his silly jokes. “She’s dead, yes. Been for a few years.”

  Her face loomed closer. “Then are you sure it was a dream?”

  “What else would it be?”

  “That’s enough, Nurse Lindell. Give the young man some space.” The new voice belonged to a man. One that seemed to exude authority. “And help him get to an upright position.”

  Brian felt himself being pushed upward, at least from the waist up. He could also hear the faint whine of a motor. He figured out that they had strapped him to one of those hospital beds. As his upper body lifted, he found he could see more of the room. White walls adorned what he could see, and along the wall across from him, he could see a large flat-screen television had been mounted. Off to the right of that, he could see a door leading out to what appeared to be a hallway. A tall man with white hair and a lab coat stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. On his right arm, he wore a device that reminded Brian of those smart watches everyone was into these days, only this one took up the man’s whole forearm. “Nifty tech.”

  The man looked down at his arm and then offered a wide smile, “Young man, you do not know the half of it.” He stepped in and let the door close. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but we have you tightly wrapped at the moment. You would, as the kids say, leave me hanging.”

  “Kid’s don’t say that anymore.”

  “Perhaps not.” The man nodded. “That’s the nature of slang, to confound the previous generations. My name is Doctor Patton, and you are a guest here at my labs.” He nodded to the woman standing to the side and smiling, “You have already met your nurse, Ms. Lindell.” The woman gave a small curtsy. “She has been in charge of monitoring your miraculous recovery.”

  Brian again hoped he managed a smile. “I’m a little lost.”

  Dr. Patton nodded. “A few days ago, you were shot several times by rounds tipped with mercury. They were intended to poison you, should any manage to brea
k the surface. Most didn’t, but the gunman got lucky with his shot and managed to get you in the eye. I suspect that while it had the same amount of increased resistance as the rest of your body, it is still at a lower rate than your skin. So, the bullet tore through your eye and entered your brain, expelling the poison as it did.”

  “There’s a bullet in my brain?!”

  Dr. Patton shook his head. “There was. Your body has already expelled the deadly mercury, which was an amazing process to witness. Now your body is in the process of expelling the bullet down the same path it entered. It would appear that the mass of the bullet takes a great deal more work that the liquid mercury and so it is taking more time to expel. Right now it is lodged just behind the ocular nerve, the tip touching the soft gray matter of your brain. That is why we want you to remain as still as you can. We have no idea what jostling the bullet around might do. Could be that it pushes it back into your brain and kills you.”

  “Again,” Nurse Lindell added.

  “Again?” This all felt surreal to Brian.

  Dr. Patton gave Nurse Lindell a look but turned his attention back to Brian. “There is a theory that you actually died. That all brain functions had shut down and you were clinically dead for awhile. When you were delivered to us though, you had some brain function, all be it severely reduced. Your brain was in the equivalent to standby mode on a computer. So, we can’t say for sure that you died. We have no evidence, and so I’ll have no talk of you being brought back from the dead here. But,” Dr. Patton stepped closer, “there is something else about you that is perplexing to me. Something I would like your permission to study.”

  “You said I am a guest earlier and now you are asking my permission. Am I really free to go?”

  He nodded. “You are. But only after you have finished healing. I cannot let you leave until we are able to extract that bullet from your head. I am not sure if we will ever be able to restore that eye, but we can at least make sure that it does no more damage to you. By my calculations, that means you will be our guest for around four days. After that, you are free to leave or stay on as sort of subcontractor. The decision will be yours.”

  Brian thought about it. “Can I think on it?”

  Dr. Patton smiled. “I insist. In fact, there is something I need you to see before you make a decision. So, for now, focus on healing. Once you are safe to move about, I will return to give you a guided tour and explain in more detail what we are doing. Until then, Nurse Lindell will be here to assist you. Anything you need, ask her. “ He leveled a gaze at Nurse Lindell, who responded by lowering her gaze and blushing. Dr. Patton returned his gaze to Brian. “Take care.”

  “Sir?” Brian called out as Dr. Patton turned to leave.

  Nurse Lindell slipped close and whispered through her teeth “Doctor.”

  “Sorry, Doctor.”

  Dr. Patton nodded, this time as if he were allowing for a stay of execution. “Yes?”

  “What happened to Mr. Swandon? I want to let him know that I don’t want to press charges.”

  Dr. Patton raised a brow. “He tried to kill you. May have succeeded. Yet you want to let him go free?”

  “I understand what he did. I deserved it.” Brian heard Nurse Lindell gasp.

  “No. What you deserve is justice. What he sought is revenge. Only once he achieved that did he appear to realize that it healed no wounds and only made new ones.” Dr. Patton shook his head. “After he killed you, he was arrested and charged. The next day he ran from his responsibilities and took his own life. He proved himself weak.”

  “He’s dead?”

  “And not coming back. I checked. Revenge serves no one, Mr. Lockhart.” He nodded his head at Brian.” An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind. I have watched some of your interrogations. You talk about paying for your crimes, thinking that only death is the proper payment for what you have done. Allowing yourself to die would be a greater crime. You possess a gift that most only dare dream about, and you almost took that secret to the grave. You want absolution for your transgressions, do it by living. I can assure you that if you decide to stay, it will be nothing less than purgatory for you. I do not envy the pain you may suffer, but I can promise you that it will have more meaning than getting shot down publically like a rabid dog.”

  “So, they had to die?”

  He shook his head. “That’s the exact opposite of my point. No one had to die. Your mistake cost lives, yes, but so did his. Neither of them canceled anything out. It only wasted potential. Here and now you must keep in mind that no one else needs to die to balance the scales. Suicide’s a coward’s answer to the pain in this world. Even if it’s suicide at the hands of another. Now get some rest. Your healing alone will be painful.” With that, he left, not allowing Brain to say anything else.

  Nurse Lindell appeared in his view again, her face etched with worry. “Don’t forget to call him doctor when you see him. He is very particular about that.” She wrung her hands as she spoke. “And, he’s not a man to make cross. You’ll remember for me, won’tcha?”

  Brian tried to smile. “For you.”

  Nurse Lindell blushed. “Let’s get you something to eat. Comin’ back from the dead like Lazarus has got to make a man as big as you hungry something awful”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  OJ and Anarchy

  The basement held the stench of cat litter and sweat so that the air hung humid with tiny droplets of the God-awful odor. The fact that the small rectangular windows were covered with trash bags and duct taped only served to lock it in. On most days, cats of all makes and sizes would be darting to and fro, mad with their own desire for whatever it was that cats desired most. Today, though, they found whatever nook and cranny they could to stay out of sight and hopefully out of mind. The screams alone would have been enough to ward off anyone, but the thumping of the woman’s fat feet made it all the more terrifying to the small furry inhabitants.

  Delta had long ago decided she wanted nothing to do with the cats, a revelation that shook her to her very core. The reason being because Bravo adores cats in a way that didn’t just border on obsessive, it crossed that line at full sprint and hadn’t been seen again. In Delta’s mind, she should have the same loves and hates that Bravo did. They were the same woman, divided. Over the last six months though, she had begun to see that she was not the only one who deviated from the original. Well, the first copy. Alpha remained hidden away in some remote cabin, safe from the outside world. None of them knew if Alpha died what that would mean to the rest of them. Charlie had been the one to use the original vampire analogy. When the master vampire died, in some lore, his offspring would perish too. No one knew how true that may or may not be, but one thing that transferred to all of them was the strong drive to remain living.

  Charlie had been the one to advocate that Alpha go into hiding. Somewhere the rest of the women wouldn’t know. They could still feel her in the back of their mind, like a neighboring apartment where the walls are too thin. If they tried hard enough, they could see and feel what she did. Sometimes, if the pain or the pleasure got too much for any of them, they would broadcast it to the others without doing it intentionally. It made date nights a little more awkward for the ones who actually had them.

  Bravo didn’t. She was not allowed to leave the house. Much like Alpha, Bravo had been regaled to the role of brood-mother. This too had been Charlie’s idea. “Stay as close to the original as we can.” Delta had always assumed it was because Charlie wanted nothing to do with the division process. Becoming hurt like hell, and it paled in comparison to creating. Delta had done it a couple of times, creating a Delta One and Two, like some sort of Dr. Seuss fueled nightmare. She no longer did that. If a client needed the skeletons, it would be Echo’s job.

  “Eat more.” Charlie shoved straight lard into a bound Bravo’s mouth.

  Bravo squirmed against it and screamed from behind closed lips. She knew better than to open her mouth to voice her complaints. That
just opened the way for the violent stuffing of that awful tasting stuff. Bravo herself neared close to three hundred now, maybe a few pounds shy of being able to conjure up another.

  Which version would it be? Delta looked around. Her and Echo sat at a folding table, a pile of playing cards forgotten between them. Delta sipped on her third glass of orange juice while Echo retched trying to swallow the first gulp of her orange juice. Truth was that it could be either the process or the foul stench that hung in the air and clung to the concrete walls like a thick sweat. F. The next one would be F. What had they called that one? “Fiasco?” She chuckled. “No. Echo. What’s F called?”

  Echo gagged again but managed to mutter around the edge of her glass, “Foxtrot.”

  Delta nodded. “How many you think Charlie intends to make?”

  “Charlie ain’t making any of them.” She eyed the woman ramming pure fat into Bravo’s face. “She’s just running the mill, grinding away the seed.”

  Delta blinked, “What does that mean?”

  “Something my mother used to say.” She gave Delta a sideways look. “You don’t remember?”

  Delta lowered her head and tried to think of her mom. She found nothing but shadows in that gray fog of her memory. “I don’t remember mom. Do you remember dad?”

  Echo shook her head. “I don’t think any of us do. Got the feeling he skipped town before our first entry into this shit world.”

  Something tugged at Delta’s mind to say that may not be true, but there remained too little in her mind to piece anything substantial together. “For fuck's sake, let her be, Charlie.” She watched as the woman slammed fat into the woman’s eyes now. “She going to swallow that last batch with her eyes?”

  “Stay out of this, Delta.” Charlie always knew who was who. Delta got mixed up when there was enough of them.