The 6th of Six (The Legend of Kimraig Llu)

by J. K. (Keith) Wilson

  “No more, Brody Rose. All of you will return in due time.”

  I am not Brody Rose.

  She cut him then, the man called David Proctor. Brody stuck him with hard underhand thrusts straight across the short distance to his belly, then a second time preparing to jerk her blades up and gut him.

  “Stop Brody Rose, look down. Look at your hands.”

  She looked to her distant hands expecting her knives, blood and body parts—none. I have three times more strength, yet I must kill him again. Only empty fingers, drained of life, clutched in his vice-like grip. The uniform stretched tightly over his belly was not even rumpled; she had not scored killing wounds with her—empty hands.

  “My parents did not come to save me from that old woman,” Brody said sounding like a petulant child.

  “When they heard you were captured, they came for you before the tale was complete. Their elevator fell thirty floors with them and four others inside. That had never happened before or since.” David gently relaxed his grip on her wrists, knowing bruises would soon appear.

  “Mistress Ann told me they were done with me. She told me they said I must have done something that set the men off. No wonder I never saw them again.”

  There was no room for tears. Only anger could ever help and only blood would wash it away. Could she go back to killing for the Wicca? It would come down to a final decision. She hated final decisions.

  The sight of Mistress Breen killing her former lover from ambush was a more important lesson. Now she desperately needed to know why David had done this to her.

  “I will explain why Mistress Ann did...”

  “Stop doing that. I have not asked my question yet,” her voice scared her as it vibrated back and forth inside the SHORT. Open hatches did not help. He looked at her empty hands. He had planted knifes only in her head.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Something inside her broke and she felt like her head was her own again.

  “Brody Rose, I...” David rephrased as he saw her brows leap to her hairline.

  “Brody, we need your help in Number 1 building.”

  Chapter 16. Hurt things

  Brody-1 knew it was only this morning when she had left David and the building called One Nine, but it seemed hours before the emptiness behind her eyes allowed her to think again. The doctors had scrawled Severe Dehydration on her hospital chart, the cause for her stumbling from the rubble across from the entrance to Number 1 Building.

  A ‘V’ cut deeply into the flesh of her shoulder proved her Battle Group had been another victim of the mutineers who had been escaping from all five buildings during the past week.

  From her bed, she had given Mistress Ann details of the fictional slaughter of Breen’s force by traitors and their Battle Groups called The Blue. Everything she related was truth except the ending death of all, including the small force that had fought their way out of One Nine.

  Brody-1 used the new name, Number 6 Building. Mistress Ann had cautioned her to strike that name from her memory, her scribe had known not to add that to his report.

  Directly, Mistress Ann appointed Brody her Security Commander for Number 1 Building. With that new title, the numeral “1” disappeared from her name, replaced by her new title.

  Commander of all of the buildings would follow, but that had to be by Wicca Decree. Mistress Ann would see to that. In one stroke, a current hero was reborn from an old legend. She became a hero for all Builder troops.

  Her former reputation as Giant Queen had new, added layers. Very handy, considering my promise to my murdered parents, Commander Brody smiled. Mistress Ann was as good as dead.

  Only securing the position remained. She faked more weakness than she felt as Mistress Ann’s tailor dressed her. This old man complained about dressing her in the “dirty, smelly piece of junk” she insisted on wearing. Reluctantly, she had allowed him to strip away the torn sleeve and half the shoulder material to artfully display the angry red “V” and heavy wrist bruises.

  The old boy was a showman. He demonstrated how to hold her new Commander’s battle helmet, under the good arm so the bruises to that wrist added pathos to the whole. What she portrayed was overwhelming personal strength trumping the suffering of torture.

  No one questioned her tattered and dirty uniform with the new battle helmet.

  Commander Brody issued her first order. “Withdraw Number 1 Building’s Battle Groups from the blockade Across the Street. They are needed for defense of our building.” Her second order dismissed two Queens and their Hunters, assigned as her bodyguards. She would pick her own—two former Hunters from Lower Level.

  Other names included ten former Troopers from Middle Level; the list planted by David. All of her selections had only one thing in common: Mistress Ann had dismissed them personally. Which meant their beliefs would not change with orders from the Wicca. That was all the recommendation Commander Brody needed.

  Unarmed, with her two Hunters at her back, she had marched through Lower Level seeking other names on her list. She gave each the code given her by David and continued on to Middle level. Here she exchanged Hunters for Troopers and continued the process.

  In less than two hours, she and her four newly formed Battle Groups were in control of Number 1 Building.

  * * *

  At the same time in Number 2 Building, Kitty tried unsuccessfully to sink her needle like fangs into Edith’s wrist. Even with the added advantage of her two delicate paws equipped with all those tiny claws, she could make purchase only if Edith chose not to constantly break contact. Each time, Kitty mewed in annoyance.

  This little bundle of energy came as a present just minutes ago, an unexpected present. A gift from the biggest man she had ever seen whom now sat watching over her. He did not try to hide his hungry glances at her breasts as it simmered from the corner of his eye.

  Edith had yet to adjust to Dog and Cat, the two half-wild animals that seemed part of him.

  Today she had ditched her doctors scrubs in favor of the old, but well cared for business suit. Counterfeit Vera Wang purchased before this finery’s total ban by the Wicca. It was a little tight in the hips and absolutely crunching in the bust. Ignoring an additional open button did the trick. Sitting forward a little, threatened to dump her twins into plain site. But what the hell, she was advertising.

  She would have to spend some time with extra penance for those thoughts.

  “Prime Minister Painter-Richards is coming, Doctor Edith,” the big man said bringing a little flutter to her...never mind.

  He is very formal, for a one-armed man. Like that should have anything to do with it. “Thank you Commander Bulge. Oh, sorry, let me correct that..., to Budge,” she pouted a little as she glanced below his belt.

  He was so cute when she teased him, with his remaining hand jamming up to his close cropped gray hair, fingers crabbing constantly back to front—pure sex. Now that Tams and Tommy had found solace with each other, she could probably fit him into her busy schedule. No, she would cancel her schedule for a crack at that.

  “You are drooling Edith. Wipe your mouth, dear,” Missy laughed as she was lifted from the carrying pack of large young man and gently placed on the remains of a wooden pew salvaged from the wreckage of the old chapel the two of them often used.

  “Will you sell him?” Edith asked wistfully.

  “Males in our society are free to do as they please just as your males are, at least now.”

  “But, the old way had distinct advantages. I promise to free him when I have used him up.” He seemed so old; she hoped she would not use him up too fast.

  “Rumor from Across the Street is you will never exhaust his abilities.”

  Oh my, he blushes. How hot is that? Quickly, back to work for you Edith.

  “My original diagnosis was so correct it scares me,” she said as she handed Missy the three computer disks she had removed from her jacket pocket.

  “Information we recovered from several damaged d
rives proves without a doubt that our subject was forced into the Mating Ritual on one hundred and twenty three separate occasions in the two years he was eligible.”

  Do not go where that leads you, Edith. She glanced again to the bulge.

  “What percentage resulted in male births?” Missy asked.

  “Of the one hundred and twenty three, just over eighty one, and probably more since partially recovered information on a third drive indicates he was put to work at the end of his twelfth year and continued well into his sixteenth year. Two years commitment was the law, the rest was pure slavery if you ask me.”

  The anger at this outrage continued to boil Edith’s blood.

  “Using an even one hundred births,” Missy sat thinking before she continued. “That would be forty nine male births using ancient statistics. Here we would be lucky to get one.”

  “One other item—of that one hundred twenty three, an even dozen were born with bumps behind their ears. Some redeveloped into fur tufts adding advanced hearing as they matured. Others developed the ability to see in the dark with the aid of blue lights that seemed to shoot out and lead the way. There are enough variations to boggle the mind.”

  “You believe that one male is responsible for those genetic advances?”

  “Yes, along with his offspring’s, male or female. Records go into great detail on nine of the subjects.”

  “So nine of twelve, that leaves three without history. I bet they went to the basement or the compost heap,” Missy said shaking her head.

  “Well that explained how your Crossers and the nomads in the ruins displayed the same enhancements found in my five buildings. Evidently someone or the Ergots took those babies that we, no I, sent to the basements and left them in places where they would be taken care of.”

  Missy waited for Edith to continue. When the lull became uncomfortable, she took her old friends hand.

  “It was not your fault. You did what you were ordered to do.”

  “No, it is not that easy. When we started to see deformities, I believed in the process of liquidating the child to keep bloodlines clear. It quickly became the Wicca’s personal choice and depended only on whim.” Edith allowed herself one short sob.

  “I continued to cull the children. It became just something we did.”

  “Things will be better now. Remember, your hard work these last few months helped pull the Wicca down. Without you, they would have murdered hundreds more before someone else led them to hell.”

  “Will we be any different?”

  “That is quite enough. Now back to what we came here for.”

  Missy was so glad they had found each other again. She had always pulled Edith together, when Edith’s knife had drawn blood, when she felt remorse for damaging another. Now the most important thing was answering this question.

  “Who was the male?”

  “It does not say. The records refer only to ‘L K’. All the other records are kept as single names, with the building number first.”

  L K, L K, what is it about those letters?

  Missy knew what came to mind first but the reports from One Nine reported him missing and presumed deceased. If that were true, it was another dead end. She would check again, but she was sure former Leader Sala had reported him as such when she returned after the Wicca was murdered.

  Two dissimilar items of news stood out. Sala was now the leader of the Builders and representative of the Others. Kimraig Llu’s body—L K for those bold enough to make the transition—had not been found; just as Loyal’s body, her husband, had disappeared during the initial meet in building One Nine.

  Given enough time, she knew she could come up with a least a dozen other plausible combinations for the letters L K.

  “Well, those letters mean nothing to me,” Missy lied, with no idea why.

  It looked like Colt would be staying with Edith this evening. For the first time, Missy was glad her animals were now with him, where they would remain, since it looked like he might need protecting.

  “Commander Budge, please escort Doctor Edith to her rooms.”

  To Edith she whispered. “Please do not lick him. Dog and Cat get anxious when that happens. Someone could get scratched.”

  * * *

  This new young person is trying, but he was no LaJay.

  At the thought, Missy shifted trying to find a comfortable position on the man’s back. Good thing they were headed home. The tall woman, LaJay, had carried her for years, and she missed her. She pushed that thought away as the elevator door opened to her building’s reception floor. With a relieved sigh, she felt safe again—back Across the Street where she belonged. Well, she would just have to get used to LaJay’s replacement.

  New Commander of Team 1—Colt, Marta, and Luna’s old team—Nancy Edwards, waited a respectful distance inside the door, flanked by her two hard-muscled male soldiers.

  Since Marta and Luna’s death, and the loss of Colt’s arm, these three baby-adults had protected her when she left the building. All because Dog and Cat had accepted Commander Nancy Edwards as Missy’s guard as they had Colt so long ago. Her two animals had sensed Colt needed them more and so gave Edwards their blessing as they moved to protecting him.

  “Welcome back, Prime Minister,” Edwards said in her clear even voice.

  “Come help me get off his back, Edwards.” She resisted the urge to slip back into the much-abused drug of self-pity she indulged in since seeing Colt’s eyes lingering on her old friend Edith. He deserved someone. She deserved someone. Missy wanted Loyal.

  Stop this right now; you have responsibilities.

  “Not just yet, Prime Minister, you have guests waiting in Assembly Hall.” She gave Missy a quick scan, and then turned to lead her to her guests.

  Missy bit off the distaste she always felt when she faced the prospect of unwanted visitors. She would get through this, and then head upstairs for a private tear session.

  The short hallway they were passing through was jammed with unseen metal detectors,x-rays and listening devices. Assembly Hall was one giant holding cell.

  “Alright, you can put her down here. She will prefer to meet her guests on her feet.” Edwards made sure her two male soldiers were lifting Missy from the carrier, then opened the door and nodded to those inside.

  “The Prime Minister will be with you in just a moment,” Edwards withdrew back into the hallway and waited patiently as Missy adjusted her canes.

  All the excitement, running around outside, of all things, and riding inside infernal machines had taken a toll on Missy’s resolve to appear strong. Today she did not have the nerve, she had to watch the floor with every cane enabled step. Once she was past the threshold, she would favor her guests with her best smile.

  Here we go.

  She forced herself upright and froze.

  More than a couple—three, no seven—little guys no more than four years old at most. Oh, one male, maybe five or six, and six females every one with beautiful clear skin varying from iced coffee with cream to the deepest charcoal black. Their ragged clothing bags all lined perfectly behind, shielding them from...

  “Look at me, back here,” an old man’s voice called to her.

  “Loyal...,” she choked, stumbling into a four-legged run scattering the little ones in a hundred different direction. It barley registered they had parted to make way for her. Each cane flew from her arms as she slid to his side on her damaged knees.

  “You are one fine looking wench, Mrs. Painter-Richards,” his soft words were barely a whisper. “Do you play around?”

  “For you I will make an exception. But you are still a hopeless pervert,” she whispered right back. She squeezed gently, not sure, hurt or damaged she could not tell.

  “Prime Minister, I have to get him to the hospital. He set this scene up, he wanted you to see him here, not in a bed,” Edwards was explaining and not with apology. She had stopped doing that with her promotion.

  “Loyal, I...”

 
; “Go to the children, they have doctors waiting for me,” he grimaced and mouthed the word go once more.

  “Not now. Pick me up Sergeant Edwards.”

  “I will get your canes.”

  “No, please pick me up.” She repeated, her eyes on the small children, she pulled her knees up and planted her heels firmly on the ground. She held her arms up so Edwards could help lift her weight.

  “You will take me to that small man, by his stance I assume he is in charge of his people.” Missy indicated the small boy with his chin jutting forward.

  Commander Edwards lifted her with little effort, and walked the few steps to the children. The boy stood his ground, hands on hips, fists clenched, his females gathered, protected, behind him.

  “Now, place me on the floor, in front of him. Yes, now please step away. That is good, now leave us.” Missy spoke to the child now. “Hi, my name is Missy. May I ask yours?”

  “I heard what you called that old man, he cannot have them.”

  “Ah, you mean pervert. That is also a term between lovers, meaning your mate always wants you. Do you understand what lovers are? ”

  She noticed fear and anger flush tears from his eyes as he faced the task of protecting his charges from who knows what.

  “Stop Tig, Princely promised we would never have to do that ever again.”

  One of the little females, at just one little glance taller than the boy, had punched him hard and now stood at his side. “He does not know about lovers, only about fighting and kicking rocks. He still tries to protect us.”

  “Yes, it is always good to have a protector. You know about lovers do you?”

  “We spy on the couples over in the big buildings. You know, when they walk along holding hands and storing up kisses and, and...and things.”

  “All of you pitched in and carried my Loyal back to me?”

  “No,” she and the other children giggled at that. “Princely took us all down the dark way in the tunnel, but it is okay for us since we can see good with our little blue lights. Tig, he has special ‘hearers’ behind his ears so he lets us know when something is not right.”