by Eddie Jakes
Finally, it dawned on him.
"Hey, guys?"
Everyone stopped and directed their gaze at Maddix.
"The Founding Father's building is about an hour and a half by my best estimate. I thought when we get there, we should get some new clothes, and something to eat."
"Monsieur? Are you suggesting that we … break for lunch?"
"I know it sounds like bad timing but look at us."
They all did just that. Mostly the group looked at Tanya and her borrowed overalls. Maddix could tell she was getting a little self-conscious.
"Maddix is right," said Tara. "I haven't changed my underwear since the prison."
The four of them had a laugh and continued down the tunnel. The end was close in sight, and there was the sound of cars growing louder. That was another thing Maddix thought of …
"We'll need to rent a car, or charter a bus. Does anyone remember how to drive?"
"No," said Javier.
"Never did," Tara replied.
"What is a car?" asked Tanya.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When Ephrain recovered from the unconscious state the pain had put him in, it was like a bolt of lightning through his veins. He wasn't confused or groggy, nor did he feel any kind of injury at all. In fact, he was wide awake and fully functioning.
He sat up on the floor without so much as a fraction of muscle strain or a tweak of his hip flexors. It was as if his body was responding faster than his brain could process the impulses through his nerves.
After taking a look at his surroundings, it was apparent that his eyes had achieved a new level of clarity beyond normal human ability. He could see the furniture, the walls, and other fixtures in his apartment and so much more. His eyes would zoom in on everything he focused on, and he could see every tiny detail. Layers of dust would look like huge desert sand piles with this new level of sight.
Ephrain stood up quickly without making a single sound as he did it. His legs moved with the silent grace of a jaguar, and his arms pushed him off the floor by the tips of his fingers without a single breath of exertion.
He glanced down at his hands and his mouth opened in surprise. His skin was no longer the pale color and his wrinkles had faded away. His entire body was covered in a black translucent flesh, and he could see every muscle in his body when he moved his hands.
Ephrain casually walked into the bathroom and stared at his face in the broken mirror. His entire head had transformed, like the rest of his body, with a pair of bright yellow eyes that appeared more reptilian than human. His pupils would dilate in odd configurations when he looked at specific features on his face. Peering closely at his neck he could see that his throat had healed, and through his clear skin he noticed that his esophagus had completely repaired itself on the inside.
"So perfect," said Ephrain.
The sound of his voice startled him at first. It was him, but deeper and younger sounding. He smiled at the possibilities of this new body he had created for himself.
Wanting to test the limits of his new physique, Ephrain began to execute various flips and tumbles all over the apartment. Each time he moved he took care to stay silent and cautious to avoid disturbing any pictures or books on the shelves. Once satisfied that he had accomplished more than he had hoped, he landed with style on the floor without so much as a thud.
"Incredible," he said, rubbing his throat.
An idea came to him. He had always been able to heal surface wounds on his body, but this was major. His sequencing had literally created a replacement organ for his body. He had regrown his vocal chords.
Ephrain picked up a chef's knife from his small kitchen and held his hand out. On the surface, it looked as if he had found the secret to regeneration, but he had to know for sure. He stopped for a fraction of a second to think about the risks. His new and improved brain calculated all the possible outcomes for what he was about to do in that small time. He swung the knife quickly and sliced his hand completely off. The blade of the knife sizzled and began to dissolve from acidic blood.
It was painful to watch his hand fall to the ground and start to eat through the floor of the apartment. The corrosive nature of his blood was stronger than it had been before. Another thing he had not contemplated, but it he supposed that it was to be expected. The stinging pain didn't last long, as the wound closed up at the wrist and began to expand into a new hand. It was a full minute before the regenerated limb was fully developed and operational. The sizzling of his blood also stopped as it began to clot on the floor.
This changes everything, Ephrain thought. He was starting to rethink his loyalty to Dr. Himmelreich and the Statsnys. The results from the formula had progressed beyond the creating of mindless drones and into a complete evolution of humanity. As far as he was concerned, he had created a new species of humans as the catalyst for a new order. He'd never liked the idea of being a servant to demonic bloodsuckers anyway, and now he would be the dominant species on Earth.
But he would first have to convince Krazek.
After the first month in captivity, Javier had gotten used to being ridiculed to the point that he would show gratitude each time that he was tormented. Most of the time it would be nothing but foul words he couldn't understand, the rest of the time it would be heaps of trash or half-drunk cups of water. He used to try to dodge and avoid being hit, but they had kept him on the brink of dehydration for so long, that his instincts would force him to stand with his mouth open hoping to steal a few extra drops onto his dry tongue.
As bad as it was, it was nothing compared to the first day when they had captured him. He was crying and blubbering the whole time due to seeing his friend butchered by their leader. They forced him to watch as he choked on his own blood during his final death spasm. His eyes stayed open the whole time and focused on Javier. Once his last breath left him, the savage with the knife put it to Javier's throat and began to glide the blade slowly on top of his jugular.
Javier had begged for his own life that day with dirt and tears streaming down his cheek like a child. This both disgusted and intrigued the knife-wielding guerrilla, who slapped Javier so hard across the face that it knocked him out of the other soldier's hands on onto the ground.
"You are a disgrace to your own uniform. I only kill brave infidels. You will live in your own personal hell," said the man to Javier. Those words stuck him worse than any knife would.
The rest was confusing. Javier couldn't understand Arabic, but he assumed that the others were commanded to rip his uniform from his body and leave him with nothing but a loincloth and his undershirt. After they treated him like some kind of palace slave, demanding things and beating him when he couldn't understand. Their leader was the only one who spoke English, as far as Javier could tell, and the man used it whenever wanting something from him. Javier considered it to be a positive at least since it helped him to learn some basic things to avoid being abused. They were simple words, like water, food, or dance.
Yes, they would make him dance from time to time like a court jester.
They traveled a lot and slept at night, which was something they at least allowed him to do without any fear of attack. Not that it was any consolation to him. He would always relive that same day over in his mind, and he would watch his friends die again. Most nights he would wake up in panic, others in tears.
If only he had been more of a man and just pulled the trigger. He could have ended his commander's suffering quickly and still had time to raise the barrel to his own chin to avoid what he was enduring now. Death would have been preferable to the dehumanizing treatment that these guerrillas inflicted on him. He had come to the realization that he had lost all hope, and the only thing he could do was wait for his own demise, either at the hands of his captors or from the elements.
During the second and third months, the soldiers decided that it would be amusing to paint the word "coward" in Arabic across Javier's chest to amuse some new recruits to their guerrilla outfit. Th
e younger ones were often the most brutal in their harassment of Javier, and some would even shoot at his feet and laugh. The leader did not approve of this behavior, however, and would often punish those that would waste their ammunition on someone as pathetic as him. Embracing himself as a coward seemed to be the best way to earn favor with the leader and stay alive, so that was precisely what he did: stay pathetic and never argue or disagree with his captor.
The last day of his captivity, the soldiers were all celebrating another victory against other Foreign Legion forces in the province. They were small and unsuspecting, and the guerrillas took them with few losses of their own. They prayed and cheered at their luck and many blessings. Some of them got extremely rowdy and took their emotions out on Javier's face a few times … once while attempting to bring water to their leader, which caused Javier to spill it into his lap. Before Javier could even begin to know what had happened, the leader was on top of him with his knife to Javier's throat.
"Clumsy fool," he said to Javier. "I've only ever killed brave men with this knife. To even allow one drop of your blood on this knife would tarnish it forever."
The leader's voice was almost drowned out by the number of men cheering for him kill Javier. Deep down, Javier hoped that he would and closed his eyes to wait for the knife to enter his heart and end this humiliating life.
It never happened …
The crowd was dispersed by the sounds of three grenades exploding followed by the ground erupting around them from heavy artillery shells. Rifle fire soon followed, and bodies were dropping like flies everywhere around them.
They were being attacked by invading forces and the leader quickly got up and began to fight with his men, forgetting about Javier. The situation was too intense, and Javier collapsed into a fetal position and waited to be shot or blown up. Survival was no longer on his mind, he just wanted it all to be over.
Both armies fought for hours ’til the guerrillas realized that they were not on the winning side of history that day. Many of them ran in all directions with the others being shot or run through with bayonets. Javier could hear the leader commanding his men in Arabic, but his voice would soon be silenced by an explosion that sent him flying backward next to where Javier still lay.
Javier opened his eyes to see the leader staring back at him with his mouth hanging open in shock. Half his body was blown off, along with one of his arms, but he still struggled to find breath. Javier just watched him as he died, his own shock and awe was preventing him from having any energy to react.
The fighting slowed and eventually ceased. French soldiers moved through the carnage slowly checking every corner for possible attackers. The sharp edge of a bayonet poked Javier in the back, and he spasmed in response.
For the first time in months, Javier heard French, followed by running footsteps.
"Larouche? My God, what did they do to you?"
"Larouche?"
The voice calling his name was familiar, so Javier woke up from his nightmare. It took him a moment to reassess where he was, but eventually everything on the bus looked familiar. Javier could see Maddix and Tara seated in the row in front of him. They had both exerted themselves to the point of exhaustion, and he could hear them both snoring softly. Hopefully, their rest would not be as torturous as Javier's had been.
After clearing his head, he felt like a different man. He could remember everything about his past now and who he was before going to Malevolent. In retrospect, though, he would have preferred not to remember anything about what he'd been through.
Javier turned his head and saw Tanya staring back at him with a concerned expression.
"Were you having a nightmare?" asked Tanya.
All he could do was nod his head in affirmative. His throat felt raw, as if he had actually been dehydrated for months in the desert.
Placing her hand on Javier's, Tanya gently squeezed. The gesture both comforted him and surprised him at the same time. It was out of character for her to be so nurturing, but he could tell the feeling was genuine, so he covered her hand with his other one and gave the best smile he could.
Every time Craig had to deal with any of Ephrain's people, the experience always fucked with him for an hour or so afterward. He didn't mind dealing with Ephrain, because even if he was a bit of a jerk to him from time to time, at least he had a more down-to-earth personality. Ephrain never spoke in short, creepy sentences and didn't make a lot of eye contact. Craig appreciated that about him. Stillwel and that other guy he hung around with was another matter. They had a stare that cut like a knife when they looked at you. It was similar to being judged as a piece of meat rather than as a person.
Thankfully the job was nearing completion and payment was more than enough to balance out the fear factor. To say that money didn't bring him happiness was total bullshit. He liked getting paid, he liked spending money, and he loved living like a baller.
It was a damn shame that Ephrain didn't take his ideas a lot more seriously than he did. He could elevate their business to the next level, and they both could be living like kings. His loyalty to that freak-show was unbreakable, however.
Craig’s cell phone started ringing, and the display flashed Thorbert Hodge. Craig put the phone to his ear.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Everything going smooth down there?"
"Yes. Got everything set up with that creepy old dude that works with them."
"And payment?"
"In full,” he stated. “Counted it twice."
"Good work. I will see you at the regular time?"
"Yeah. I just gotta oversee the final shipment for Ketter and then I'm heading over to your office, Mr. Hodge."
"I'll let the staff know you are expected."
The call ended abruptly. Hodge never said good-bye when he was done talking to you. It was part of his charm, Craig supposed. He didn't like him, but he was one hell of a businessman.
Craig was almost to his car when he was pulled into an alley and pressed against the wall. His heart began to race.
"Is this a jacking? You don't wanna be doing this! I'm warning you, asshole."
"Shut up, Craig," said an almost familiar voice.
"Who are you? How'd you know my name?"
The shadowy figure moved in closer and revealed his face to his victim. It was Ephrain Ketter, no doubt, but he was changed.
"Oh my God! What happened to you?"
"Let's just say I've had a spiritual awakening."
"What the fuck?"
"Just calm down, Craig. I've given your proposal some additional consideration, and I have a few changes in mind."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The bus ride was only about two hours and stopped at a busy part of the city next to an indoor mall. They took some time to get some new clothes and clean up a little bit before seeking out a decent meal. In the corner of the mall was a busy sports bar and grill with food that smelled so amazing they all decided to stop in. Javier decided that since he hadn't had a decent beer in so long he was going to treat himself despite Maddix insisting that they stay sharp. It wasn't long before Maddix was also in agreement that they all deserved a little treat.
Tanya was the hungriest and ordered three small appetizers and a full rack of ribs, which she completely devoured with little effort. It was so good that she was smiling like a little kid having candy for the first time. Tanya didn't waste a single drop and licked the sauce from her lips and fingertips. All that remained were a stack of empty plates that had practically been licked clean.
The waitress arrived and looked at the empty plates in front of Tanya and smiled at everyone.
"Can I remove any plates for anyone?"
"Yes, please. Thank you," said Maddix. "Could I also get another beer?"
"Oui," said Javier. "May I have a refill as well? It's been a long time since I've had a beer this good."
"Yes, it's so clean," said Tanya, excitedly. "Could you bring me another plate of ribs. They are delicious."
"Wow, I wish I could eat that much and stay fit like you. Everything I eat goes right to my waist."
Tanya stared at the waitress’ hips in confusion and then looked down at herself. Everyone chuckled as the waitress cleared away the empty plates.
"How about you, hon?" the waitress asked Tara. "Want a beer or something?"
"I think I'll pass," responded Tara while wincing. It was obvious the thought of taking in any kind of stimulant was unappealing given the circumstances. No one could blame her.
After finishing up the table, the waitress walked toward the kitchen and disappeared behind some steel double doors.
"If you all don't mind, I think I'll be going to the ladies’ room," said Tara.
Nobody put up an argument, and instead continued to listen to Tanya go on about how tasty everything was. Everything about the restaurant was so different from what she could remember. All the colors were loud and bright, with photos of sports teams and uniforms decorating the walls. Whatever had changed in the world it was obvious people were still into their sports heroes as they had always been.
It took some time to find the bathroom, but after glancing around and some guidance from another customer, Tara found it, did her business, and started to wash her hands.
On the wall next to her was a classic photo of an old soda ad. She remembered seeing it once when she was a kid, and it brought back some memories. The photo depicted a family gathered on a blanket for a picnic with glass bottles of cola in each members’ hand. In the arms of the mother, was a small baby swaddled peacefully as she enjoyed her cold soda in the warm summer day.