The Scream of Feyer: hitching a ride with a suicide bomber

by Steve Hammond Kaye

  "You can’t make up your fucking minds can you? Never mind Uncle Jess is here to help out!"

  As the family huddled together covering their eyes, Wheeler pointed his gun in their direction. Then at the last minute, he spun round and fired a burst of bullets into the off-guard project ranks. Five hit the floor dead, with blood pumping out of their gaping head wounds. Wheeler had equalised his deadly accuracy. He spoke coldly to the shocked assembly.

  "Seven for seven! I guess we’re done now, but if you ever repeat this form of weakness you will all wear your eyes around your neck! Be fucking warned!"

  Wheeler walked away from the carnage, whilst the blood and corpses were cleared away. He whistled audibly as he left. The tune was a classical piece that celebrated the hot days of summer. It was an upbeat choice of music to whistle – the antithesis of tragedy!

  Despite his overshow of confidence, Jess Wheeler was inwardly petrified. He knew that Klue would search him out that night and he feared that he would have to answer for the escapees. He felt that Klue would see the escape as a weakness on his part – as though he was losing his flawless control. Sure enough the devil came on cue that night and spoke first.

  "Messy Jess! In Paris my juvenile side informed me that a woman called Feyer was here. I fucking hope that she wasn’t one of the seven escapees for your sake."

  "I humble myself to you Klue. She was one of those who escaped, but she wouldn’t have got out of this prison if I had remained. I’ve also lost Marcia Levene – you may as well know the full-scale of my weakness, my dishonour."

  Klue was surprisingly calm.

  "I secured Levene Mr Wheeler. As we speak, she is back in your country with my semen festering inside her. I have raped the world through Levene and spreading my coils around a disintegrating superpower.

  "Losing Feyer was slack though Mr Wheeler – weak by your own admission. You see a woman like Feyer was foretold. She alone can damage my Empire. Only my other side can approach her in this region, because her goodness stagnates my presence! Do you see what damage you have done Jess Wheeler? You are to pay accordingly. It is time to gather my first souvenir – my first privilege."

  Wheeler knew that pleas for mercy would hit deaf ears and he waited in the darkness like the first time – awaiting the satanic vengeance.

  A searing white light burned into Jess Wheeler’s left eye socket. After a split second this light retreated back into the darkness and Wheeler was left alone. He raced for the room lights, but something cluttered his night vision. When he eventually did turn the room lights on, he turned to look in the mirror and face the consequences of Klue’s judgement. He swallowed hard and marvelled at the horrific cleanliness of the extraction. There was no blood, no gaping sore – just a bloodless hollow socket where his eye used to be. As he succumbed to the consequences of the savagery, he fell forward and laughed. The walls of the Avoider prison echoed with the manic sound and a bizarre irony hung over the scene – the devil had stolen the evil eye!

  ELEVEN

  The new Avoider base was somewhere in Northern Germany. Feyer and Blackwell hadn’t been told any location specifics pertaining to the exact whereabouts of the underground structure that they now resided in. Some fellow Avoiders told them that the building was one of a series of underground structures left over from the last century when nuclear unease still abounded. Germ and chemical warfare eventually became greater threats and the nuclear arsenals were left to corrode away. Decaying warheads leaked their radioactive poison into the metaphorical cess-pool that society had now become. The arteries of fallout provision were still dotted all over Europe and it didn’t take long for these structures to attract those who were fleeing the MC-Project.

  The Avoiders had to endure the squalor of these meagre living conditions, but they were quite safe in their underground isolation for the moment, because the project were primarily concerned with colonising unclaimed global regions. There was still talk though – darkened portents that anticipated lethal gassing or parabrid spore drops. This type of supposition always meant that sleep was tainted by nightmares.

  After three days underground Feyer felt that she had swapped one prison for another. It wasn’t as if she were chained to her bed like she had been previously, merely that existence seemed to be constructed by nihilism. The leaders of her new pack were faceless and no direct line of control seemed to exist. A bell would be rung three times a day to announce the provision of food for the Avoiders and up to a hundred would eat the food in a dimly-lit canteen area. Other than Blackwell and herself few Avoiders conversed, preferring the uniform silence of blanketed introversion. Life was comparatively shallow, even boring and the woman started to yearn for a bit of danger! Fear had effectively kept Feyer alive thus far and she was addicted to this negative impulse for that reason.

  The one saving grace in the shelter involved a recreational area amidst the myriad of tunnels. This area had synthetic grassland and a real brook that was created from a series of underground springs. The Avoiders would visit this section in small groups or on their own, to contemplate the better world that had past them by. Feyer and Blackwell had first come across this area when they were finding their way around the shelter, but when she made her second visit she chose to go alone.

  The woman skimmed stones across the surface of the brook, trying to hit a tall water reed that projected quite high out of the water. Eventually she tired of this pursuit though and as she looked at her reflection in the brook she remembered her LSE days and the years when London was still in bloom. A couple of Avoiders passed her by; exchanging a non- verbal greeting with their eyes and shortly afterwards Dr Robertson approached her. He, like Feyer was on his own. The man’s voice cut into her world of contemplation.

  "Hi Feyer. I guess you’re finding this quiet life rather different to the pace of being continually pursued or the pain of being incarcerated by those project bastards?"

  "Rhetorical questions don’t beckon answers do they Dr Robertson? I’m just content to reflect on things at this moment in time. Life for us Avoiders seems to lurch from crisis to crisis. As soon as we feel that a quiet haven is reached, something shatters the peace. A big part of me is sick of fleeing, sick of our nomadic existence. Sometimes I wonder if the wasted or what’s left of them are the lucky ones!"

  "Very true – the ignorance is bliss cliché does fit the wasted extremely well. Have you lost all hope for the rest of us Feyer?"

  "Yeah I guess I have now. In three months we are all going to be pitched into another bleak and miserable European winter. At the same time the project fat cats will lead their high life and slaughter us for sport! It’s just a matter of time Dr Robertson – when they tighten the net all of us will be ground into non – existence."

  Robertson pondered for a short moment, before replying to Feyer’s pessimistic predictions. It wasn’t the reply that she had been expecting.

  "I agree with you – ipso facto. Have you ever thought of ending it all?"

  "No – that would represent doing their dirty work for them. Many Avoiders must have taken the suicide option, but I’m fucked if I’m going to make things easier for the project!"

  "Would that change, if you could take the MC-Project with you?"

  "I don’t follow you."

  "If you had a way of wiping out the project in Europe and it meant being a martyr for morality, would you do it?"

  "Of course I would, but aren’t you being a bit melodramatic by engaging in this form of fictional supposition?"

  "I wasn’t utilising supposition, I was stating a fact!"

  "You’re talking in riddles here Dr Robertson! How can we cleanse Europe when we exist in a hovel like this?"

  "You said cleanse Feyer – a word that has been semantically bastardised for a couple of centuries by global society. The only difference with our moral stance would involve us literally cleansing Europe – by destroying all the people in the said continent."

  Feyer’s mind was racing and after
digesting the last remark, she returned to dwell on a significant word that Robertson had used shortly before his cleansing commentary.

  "Hold on Dr Robertson. A while back you mentioned the word fact in relation to the European destruction of the project. How the hell can you have access to such means here?"

  Robertson had been waiting to make his next speech to Feyer for some time now – long before the Harz pack separation. He had to be sure of his purpose and now the man felt he was. When the two of them had been reunited, everything seemed predestined in his eyes. He knew in his heart that this woman would be his substitute in the event of misfortune. He began.

  "It is time to tell you a bit more about myself Feyer. I am a Doctor – that much is true. I majored in Medicine initially, but then my career developed in a more specialist direction, when the military recognised my affinity with chemical compositions. I was rushed through an accelerated second doctorate – but on this occasion I majored in biological warfare. I became involved with a group of military chemists who invented some of the most lethal Bio-Chem weapons ever created by man! When the project shut our research station down just over a decade ago my colleagues were executed and the weapons were seized by the project – all but one batch that is! People assume that my bags are full of medical equipment and most of them are, but one black case was designed tough enough to penetrate the orbit because it is a container to house a Bio-Chem weapon. The black case has remained unobtrusive amongst my medical supplies. When I told you about the loss of the Harz pack, you must have wondered why I lagged behind my former colleagues when the main pack were climbing higher into the mountains. The reason was grasped tightly in my left hand. I was holding that case. Inside is one eight – inch glass cylinder that may look rather innocuous on first sightings. Appearances are deceptive here though because it is filled with twelve centilitres of vaporised Plutura 26 B. There are enough heavy metal elements and germ – based compounds in one small black case to wipe out everyone in Europe!"

  Robertson paused for a brief moment and Feyer seized this opportunity to ask a question.

  "So how long have you had this lethal luggage in your possession Dr Robertson?"

  "Ever since the project ransacked our old headquarters! Effectively I’ve been a walking time-bomb and I suppose I must have led a relatively charmed life in that context. If my case had been destroyed during my time as a Harz-based Avoider, the cylinder would have done tremendous damage to the country in which it was detonated, but the full-scale of it’s lethal capability wouldn’t have been realised. You see, Plutura 26 B was devised as a Continent-Buster, but the nature of the malignant spore-base has to germinate in the right type of wind. Our lethal cocktail was specifically designed to take out Europe – not the buildings, just the people! We researched how this deadly compound could advance itself through hyper-speed mutant-germination. We found that one type of wind accelerated the spread of the germination ahead of all other wind types. This wind involved a spiralling form of uplift and the autumnal winds that blow to the west of Norway are perfect for the destruction purpose. If the cylinder is detonated when the spiral-winds are blowing, our research showed that Europe would be devoid of people in a shade under two hours – parts of Asia would also fall under the malignant overspill. Are you sure that you are ready to die?"

  It only took a few seconds for Feyer to provide an answer.

  ‘I have no fear of death Dr Robertson – after what I’ve been through it would be a blessing! On two occasions recently I have felt the presence of something so evil that the project’s twisted nature pales into insignificance in comparison. Initially I encountered Klue through a vision and then the beast paid me a visit. Before I met Klue, I thought that angels and demons were folklore metaphors, but now I know that the devil at least is a real entity. You know me quite well Dr Robertson and I doubt if you would question my sound of mind status. After my meeting with Satan, I haven’t got any realms of evil left to confront. In a way this has strengthened my character and fired my resolve. Europe is nothing but a spawning ground for his kind of malevolence now and the project merely accentuate things – creating a combined dark force in the process. Europe died years ago – shutting it down for good is just a coup de grâce! Yes Robertson, I’m ready to die. In this sick world I will embrace death as a new dark virgin!

  A silence prevailed for over a minute and then Robertson spoke again.

  "Are you convinced that Klue’s identity is satanic and not conceived from your own world-weary-psyche?"

  "I’m positive. I have mentally revisited the two occasions when I experienced his presence and I am now certain of the locale where my vision was based."

  "Where was it?"

  "A place in the Lofoten Islands – fittingly called Hell

  "When I was a child residing in Norway, my family used to take me on holiday to the Lofoten Islands. I was only five or six then, but a few places have stayed in my memory. After the vision, I was initially too shocked to place the scene, but as the weeks went by I replaced the feeling of déjà-vu with firm recollections. The Maelstrom and Hell were two familiar ingredients to emerge from the vision and Klue’s twisted juvenile side reaffirmed the landscape when it visited me. Klue has a beautiful lair you know – an aesthetic base from which to conceive the apocalypse!"

  "Do you think that he has returned there now?"

  "Only the wind and the seasons will know the answer to that question Robertson. I think that the fucker has a chameleon potential – it just melted into the darkness when it left my cell in Hanover and it fused through the waves in my Maelstrom vision. Don’t you think that a black irony hangs over our European shutdown quest? The type of wind we need blows from Hell! It is conceivable that in order to wipe out Europe we will have to confront Klue!"

  "I guess that if all the different factors come together that could transpire. Either way death stalks us. If you’re willing to ride shotgun on this suicide mission I can tell you that I have got the route specifics – a conceived plan for reaching the area close to the Lofoten Islands. So far though, you are the only person to know of Plutura 26 B. We may need further cover in that context. Would you stake your life on Blackwell – or your death to be more precise?"

  "I would."

  Blackwell had effectively been included in the mission by a proxy-vote and Robertson added the name of Claire Hines by the same method. She was an adept survivalist who handled an Uzi as if it were second nature to her. Hines had the same tenacious spirit, as Feyer and that would mean that the pair would share great kinship or that only one of them would remain in the frame!

  The pair continued to talk about their impending mission for some time. Their decision had been a cathartic experience for both of them and their sense of release was almost tangible. It was agreed that neither of them would approach the nominated seconds for a couple of days, so that they could fully digest the magnitude of what they were prepared to undertake.

  * * *

  A few hundred kilometres due south of the Avoider position the form tore through a dense forest. He had lost her scent when he had honoured the appointed place of conception. The juvenile sentinel had stayed to watch over the woman, but she hadn’t resisted the temptations of a close – quarter meeting like Klue had instructed and her power had temporarily diminished as a result. After the conception he had planned to expunge her powerful moral light – not an easy task for an entity that was burnt by her presence. After the chaos that ensued during the breakout, she had flown from his snare. He stopped to stand and straighten to his full height. The glare of sunlight penetrated into the forest shade and the beast sensed that his realm of ice was aching for the master’s return. After a final surveillance he was gone, carried over the land by the route of the winds. Klue usually moved through people, but the right winds still took him back.

  TWELVE

  After Feyer had digested the implications surrounding the decision that she had entered into with Robertson, she remained convinced
that Plutura 26 B held the answer to Europe’s decadent slide. At first she had wondered whether the plan represented another form of genocide for the few moral people that remained alive, but the more she wrestled with their plan, the more she realised that it represented a mercy-killing. Robertson had told her that this particular form of germ-spore would render Europe a lifeless continent for at least two thousand years and it would become a permanent example of the futility surrounding this form of warfare. Maybe, just maybe the rest of the world might take heed from a lifeless continent.

  When she had nominated Blackwell as her effective second, she had initially assumed that he would follow her lead as usual, but in the aftermath of her discussion with Robertson, doubts had set in. She had experienced a few misgivings surrounding the finality of their mission and she began to anticipate that he might not be immediately sold-on the idea of a lifeless Europe. Part of her wondered if she hadn’t got too accustomed to his usual compliance with her wishes. She felt a form of guilt by the casualness that she had shown when she had made him a suicide terrorist by assumptive proxy!

  When she eventually broached the subject to Dean in the recreational section, she chose her words carefully. The couple were alone and a deceptive calm hung over the scene.

  "Does your love for me hold any boundaries Dean?"

  "No - none, why do you ask?"

  "As you know, the two massacres I witnessed in Goslar sunk my spirit to an all-time-low. Our incarceration at the hands of the project made me feel even worse and it seemed that there were no answers to the hold that the project had over us. What I’m going to tell you about now involves something that is worse than the project, if you can comprehend something so evil! I have also discovered a final way of fighting back – a form of ultimate sacrifice for what’s left of the moral world."

  The woman held her breath for a moment and Blackwell chose not to break her flow with questions at this point. Feyer then detailed the evil surrounding Klue. It was painful for her when she revealed the details surrounding the self-abortion she had undertaken because Blackwell’s seed had been destroyed by her own hands. She had felt impelled to tell Dean because Klue’s juvenile side had used the extremities of her abortive action to try and break her. As she waited for the inevitable questions, she wasn’t sure if her confession wouldn’t act as a barrier to their future solidarity. After contemplating what Feyer had told him, Dean began his questions.