Tribulations

by KM Fortune

  "I'm fine," she said and took another bite of the toast. Luckily, the intercom buzzed to distract The Duke from asking more questions. Raven hoped it was her friends. "Shall I get that?" she asked eager to do something rather than sit at the table beside him. Even though Kit was in the room too, although unwilling to eat at the table, she was no help with conversation. The Duke leaned back in his chair and continued to smile, but there was a bite to it.

  "In a rush to avoid quiet time with me?" he asked. Raven forced a sweet smile. She knew her best bet was to go along to get along for the moment.

  "Not at all. I just want to see how they are. Last night was quite an event," she replied and stood up from the table. Unwilling to be intimidated, she went to the intercom without a glance back and pushed the button. "Yes?" she asked. There was a pause, and Raven guessed the guards outside the door were surprised to hear her instead of The Duke.

  "Everything okay in there?" came back the response. Suddenly The Duke was beside her and reached past to press the button himself.

  "Yes," he said. "Send them in."

  AS THE DOOR SWUNG OPEN, Matthew did not know what to expect. All night he had been filled with worry about Raven. Even with Kit as her guardian, there was no guarantee The Duke would not send a group of armed men to Raven's room. It would be a battle if it happened, but even Kit was not invincible. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw Raven standing inside the door beside The Duke, even though the cowboy had his arm draped around her shoulders, casual but clearly possessive. The message was clear. Raven belonged to him now. It left a foul taste in Matthew's mouth, but he swallowed it down. Now was not the time to make trouble and he looked to Blaze to see if his comrade would be smart enough to know it too. Blaze's face was red, but he did not comment until Raven stepped away from The Duke and over to Blaze to look at his wound. "Are you okay, Blaze?" she asked. Matthew saw Blaze flick his eyes over to glare at The Duke for a second, before looking back at Raven.

  "I'm okay," he answered. "I've had worse." The Duke chuckled at the boast as he strode over to the penthouse's large table. After waving at the banquet of food, he took his seat at the head of the table.

  "Come on. Let's eat before it gets any colder," he said. Matthew and the others complied and went to join him. Raven sat back at her plate to The Duke's immediate right. The man tapped the table near her. "Eat up, my dear. It's important to keep your strength," he said. Matthew slipped into the seat across from Raven and saw the faint hint of revulsion cross her beautiful face. I cannot let this go on, Matthew thought, but was unsure how to proceed. What can I say to convince this man to let Raven out of her promise? He wracked his brain as he accepted the serving dish of eggs from Toby beside him. The last thing he wanted was to eat, but he took a spoonful anyway. This was a time to tread lightly, and he knew it. As if the others sensed it too, no one spoke, and there was only the sound of clinking flatware against the plates.

  "Well, for crying out loud," The Duke said as he leaned back and threw up his hands. "This isn't a damn funeral. Somebody talk." He pointed his finger at Matthew beside him. "Tell me how you ended up with this outfit, son. I rarely see anyone who's defected from those zealots up in the mountain," he said. Matthew was not sure how to respond. It was not part of his genetic engineering to lie. But what will The Duke do if he knows the truth? he thought and made eye contact with Raven. It did not go unnoticed by their savvy host. “Wait a minute here,” The Duke said as he looked from Matthew to Raven and back again. “Raven did this? Oh, I have got to hear the story behind that.”

  AT FIRST, KIT WAS ONLY half listening to the conversation. She was not interested in anything The Duke had to say. He was a pompous ass in her opinion, and she would be happy when they all found a way to leave. Not that it will be easy now that Raven said she would marry him, she thought and shook her head. Kit had never heard a more ridiculous idea. What Kit did know was she needed to get out of the hotel and do more scouting around the city. Being holed up in one place made her uneasy, and if it came down to it, she would just get up and leave. In fact, she was strongly considering doing just that when she heard Matthew explain he found Raven frozen in the ice. "I was part of an expedition to check the site of some crashed airplane wreckage. Human remains were detected, and they needed my expertise," Matthew said. "We made multiple trips, and on the last way down, I noticed something red. It was trapped in the center of a glacier and turned out to be the jacket Raven was wearing." Kit watched The Duke sit back. He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. Apparently trying to register everything he had just heard, Kit understood what he was feeling. Even though Kit could relate to finding things buried under snow and ice, the fact Raven was sitting at the table alive was incredible. Impossible is a better word for it, Kit thought and narrowed her eyes. What is Matthew up to?

  Finally, The Duke leaned forward again. "Okay, let's say I believe you so far. How exactly is it our lovely Ms. Raven is beside me looking quite normal?"

  Matthew shrugged. "I'm a scientist. I was genetically programmed with extensive intelligence to perform experiments," he replied. "Admittedly, reviving a full human specimen was uniquely challenging. However, I think it turned out quite well." He smiled at Raven, and then looked at The Duke. "To be honest, I never expected her to wake up. No one was more surprised, I promise."

  The Duke put his elbows on the tabletop and leaned closer to Raven. He raised an eyebrow. "So how long were you frozen, if you don't mind my asking?" he said. Kit watched as Raven paused, as if not sure how honest she should answer. Finally, she smiled back.

  "A century," she said. Everyone at the table stopped and looked at her. The room was silent for a minute, and then The Duke barked out a laugh.

  "This is the best tale I have ever heard," he said. "You had me going for a minute there. Frozen for a century." He chuckled with a shake of his head and picked up his fork. "Now, enough fantasy talk. How did you really meet?"

  "Ask me something," Raven said, her face serious. "I know you're a connoisseur of all things pre-apocalypse. Go on, ask." The Duke set down his utensils and leaned back again. He considered her carefully.

  "Okay, I'll play," he said. "You saw the movie theater we have up and running? I pointed it out during our tour yesterday." Raven nodded. "Good. So, when folks here work hard, and I think they need a treat other than Fight Night, I show them a movie. Not a lot of choices, so we recycle a lot, but we, especially me, do have a favorite. Circa 1969." He leaned in close to Raven again. "How about you guess it," he said softly.

  Kit was completely confused. She was having a hard time getting her mind around the story Raven was frozen and lived a long time ago. And what is a movie? she thought. Luckily, Raven seemed to know, and she laughed at the question. "I don't even get to know the names of the actors?" she asked surprisingly playful considering the rest of the room was filled with tension. Kit looked at the other's faces. If she had to guess, no one else knew what a movie was either, but they would all agree, if Raven messed up the answer, it could not go well.

  "No," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "That would make it too easy." Raven tilted her head and looked thoughtful. She tapped the table with the tip of her finger as she worked the puzzle.

  "So you play it over and over, and people still find it entertaining?" Raven asked. Or at least they are smart enough to pretend to, Kit thought and leaned forward, waiting to hear the answer. "Has to be a western,” Raven continued. Kit saw The Duke trying to keep a straight face, but it was clear he was impressed she even got that much. "I'd almost think John Wayne since you are The Duke and all, but frankly, I always found his movies boring." The Duke could not hold in a laugh.

  "On that, we agree," he said, clearly loving the conversation. "But stop fishing and answer me."

  Raven nodded. "Fine. My guess is ... Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," she said matter-of-factly and picked up her toast to take a bite. "If I'm not mistaken, it should have won best movie of the year but was robbe
d." Kit watched The Duke's mouth drop open with disbelief, and he stood up so fast he knocked over his chair.

  "That's impossible. You asked somebody," he insisted, but there was doubt in his voice. He looked at Matthew. "Did you really—" he muttered, unable to finish. The Duke shook his head to clear it. "But how?"

  Matthew shrugged. "Like I said, I'm a trained scientist," he said. Kit was still confused, but it was clear The Duke was quickly catching on.

  "A scientist," he said and rubbed his jaw. Nodding, he went to Matthew and clapped a hand on the man's shoulder. "You're a scientist," he repeated and then laughed. "You're just what I've been looking for."

  CHAPTER 3

  There was a low rumble in the distance and Hector opened his eyes when he heard it growing louder. He looked at Helen, and her eyes were open as she listened. What in the heck is that? Hector thought and sat up to peer out of the hole where the wrecked van's windshield would have been. In the distance, he could see a dot. Whatever the thing was it appeared to be the source of the noise. Helen moved up beside him. "Any idea what it is?" she asked. As much as Hector hated to admit it, he did not. "The Patrols maybe?" he suggested. "But not in a jeep, I don't think. And not in one of their big trucks." Helen nodded.

  "Well good. Truce or no truce, I have never heard anything pleasant about our kind running into a crusade," she said. Now it was Hector's turn to nod.

  "Agree with you there," he said and slipped backward to sit down on the floor of the van again. "Do you want to take off?"

  Helen joined him. "I don't know. It could just roll right by. Unless it is another cat mutant and it smells us." Hector scratched his chin and thought about it. The noise the thing made was definitely different, and it made him curious.

  "Let's wait. I want to see what it is," Hector said.

  "Why am I not surprised?" Helen said with a smile.

  SITTING IN HIS WHEELCHAIR, The Creator was confused. Something like this had never happened to him before. He had sent for Hannah, and the messenger came back, quaking in his sandals, to say the little girl was not coming. "What do you mean she is not coming?" The Creator asked. "Why?" The messenger, already in a deep bow, dipped lower.

  "She did not give a reason, My Lord," he whispered. "The child would not get up from her chair when I explained you were waiting. She only sat there and stared at the wall." Puzzled, The Creator shook his head. A feeling of disappointment crept in. It was a sensation he had not felt in decades. In fact, he rarely felt emotions at all. Until lately. With Hannah. The Creator started to worry. Is she ill? he thought. No, I would have been told. So why is she not coming? There was no reason he knew of, and although his followers believed he knew everything, The Creator, in fact, did not. He had to rely on the eyes and ears of his advisors. Like Samuel.

  "Stand up," The Creator instructed, and the messenger slowly lifted his head. "Go find Brother Samuel. I want to see him immediately."

  HECTOR WATCHED THROUGH the crack between the two doors of the back of the van as the thing wheeled around them and stopped. It was not a car necessarily but did appear to have a motor to power it. Two wheels, one in the front and one in the back, with a sidecar. Only one person was on it and no passenger, although Hector guessed the contraption on the side could hold one. Instead, it contained a large duffel bag and a small barrel. Probably extra fuel for this thing, Hector thought.

  “What do you see?” Helen whispered.

  Hector shrugged. “A strange little guy riding on a contraption I’m not familiar with,” he said. “But I’m about to be. It's just what we need.”

  Watching the thing slow down, Hector grinned. He’s gonna stop and check out this wreck, he thought. It was perfect.

  SAMUEL BOWED BEFORE The Creator. Not as deep as the messenger, The Creator thought and wondered about Samuel’s level of devotion. It seemed to be slipping a little more each time he gave him an audience. In fact, before The Creator could even question him about Hannah, he spoke up out of turn. “My Lord, I have excellent news! We’ve located the escaped female.” At first, The Creator did not know what he was even talking about. All he was focused on was the little girl.

  “Explain yourself,” The Creator commanded. “And I will advise you to hold your tongue in my presence going forward. If I want you to speak, I will ask you a question.” Wisely, Samuel nodded but otherwise kept silent. “Good,” The Creator said. “Now, tell me.”

  Samuel seemed almost unable to contain his satisfaction with the news. “I am speaking of the female the scientist Matthew recovered and then helped escape. I know where she is and I am making arrangements to have her transported back here for termination,” he said. The Creator nodded. Even though the woman had not crossed his mind lately, it was good the issue would be resolved.

  “Very well,” The Creator said. “But I called you here for a different purpose. What do you know about Hannah? Is she unwell?” The Creator watched Samuel’s face flush a little. Not understanding the reason for the reaction, he pushed the control on his chair and wheeled closer. “Speak,” he ordered. “What do you know?”

  HECTOR WATCHED THE stranger get off of his vehicle. The man pushed his pair of tinted goggles up and let them rest on the brim of his ratty leather cap. Pulling a rag from the pocket of his bomber jacket, he ran it over his skinny, pale face to wipe off any grime. Hector watched as he surveyed the scene. Finally, almost reluctantly, the stranger pulled a sawed-off shotgun from a holster attached to his rig and then approach the back of the van. As the man came closer, Hector shook his head. This is an odd one, he thought and crouched, ready to pounce once the doors opened. The man’s weapon did not worry Hector. He had never seen a human look so uncomfortable with a gun in his life. Slowly, the stranger reached for the door handle and Hector watched him take a deep, steadying breath. Unable to help it, Hector grinned. This is going to be fun. The man yanked the door open, and Hector waited for him to look inside. "Boo," Hector said. Startled, the stranger stumbled back, dropped his weapon, and then fell on his butt in the dirt. It was all Hector could do not to laugh. Looking at the man, in his goggles and leather coat, Hector thought for a second maybe the guy was just a kid. He was short, and there was not much bulk to him. Hector was trying to puzzle it out when the man suddenly started to scramble for his shotgun. "Oh no you don't," Hector said and leaped out of the van to land on the man's chest. Raising a paw, claws out, Hector made ready to rip out the stranger's throat and be done with it.

  “Hector, no!” Helen called from behind him. “Don’t kill him.” Hector turned his head to look at her.

  “What?” Why?” he asked.

  “Because we don’t just go around killing humans,” she said as she stepped up beside him.

  “We don’t?” Hector asked. “Since when?” He watched Helen shake her head.

  “Since you brought two of them into the kingdom and introduced them as your friends,” she answered. Ohhhh, Hector thought. She had a point. With a sigh, Hector grabbed the man’s shotgun from the ground and then got up.

  “He was going for his gun, you know,” he said to Helen.

  Helen nodded. “Still, it would be—” she started when suddenly the funny man on the ground spoke up.

  "Considering the acute level of possible endangerment to my physical self as well as the general long-term prosperity of my interconnected body parts, I feel it was most distinctly pertinent I reached for my weapon," he stated matter-of-factly as he sat up and started to brush the dirty snow from his coat. "After all, sir, you are a cat mutant." Hector blinked. What did he just say? he thought. Helen laughed.

  “He does have a good point,” she said and went to offer a paw to the stranger. The odd young man looked at it suspiciously at first but then shrugged.

  “Under these extraordinary circumstances, I will accept your assistance. If your gesture is not authentic, I am out of luck anyway. Yet by all appearances you seem to be most unlike your bristly companion in his unfortunately unpleasant temperament, thus, without
further ado, I will take your hand. Or paw, as it may be. Thank you,” he said and took Helen’s help. Hector watched as she pulled the man easily to his feet. Once standing, he gave Helen a little bow of gratitude, adjusted his goggles, and straightened his hat.

  “What is wrong with you?” Hector blurted.

  "Physically, mentally, or spiritually?" the stranger asked with complete sincerity. "Each is singularly unique by its own measure, and I feel generalizing, considering the delicate nature of our most recent acquaintance, would be inappropriate." Again, Helen laughed. Hector had no idea what was funny. In Hector's opinion, the little guy said nothing but nonsense for the most part and did far too much of it overall. He strongly reconsidered letting Helen talk him out of just ripping the man's throat out and being done with it, yet before he could do anything, Helen asked the stranger another question. "Do you have a name, sir?" she asked. That was a mistake, Hector thought already knowing there would be no short response to even this simplest of questions.

  “Why, of course,” the man said with a smile. “One cannot travel this magnificent world of ours and have no way to announce himself. Even the minutest of creatures who walk, crawl, or soar among us have a name of some unique variety. I have thus been labeled as Simon, by my long departed, God rest his soul, benefactor. It is a grand pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam. Might I ask your moniker in return?”