by Hawk, J. K.
“Do you think it will work?” Steph asked as she organized our tools.
“This is not a typical controlled setting, so it is highlyunlikely.”
“Abel won’t take it well.”
“Obviously.” I retorted. “I am relying on you to keep his emotions in check.”
At that moment the fumbling racket of the boy struggling outside could be heard as he returned. Stepping out of the cabin I found him dragging a makeshift sled brimming with copper wires, a dozen or so old car batteries, and a variety of other odds and ends that he thought may be useful. Even with the sled, it would have been impossible for me to drag such weight up that overgrown toteroad, but the boy did it fairly quickly and with little fatigue. This reminded me of the reason I was here, but my mission would have to wait a little bit longer.
“I need one more item.” I said. “Rubbing Alcohol.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s a clear liquid generally in a white plastic bottle, it’s crucial for this to work. Try looking in one of the old cabins, specifically in the medicine cabinets.” The boy didn’t question me any further and gingerly trotted back down the mountain as darkness slowly fell over us.
“Alcohol?” Steph questioned.
“We need more time.” I answered.
We didn’t need the antiseptic, especially since Adam had a good supply of moonshine leftover. It was just to keep the boy busy and away as we continued prepping his father, and more importantly to correct any errors I may run into. My biggest hope was to speak with Adam prior to his son, to explain the situation, to soothe any panic he may succumb to. Most importantly, to fulfill my ambition of finally meeting this man, face to face.
* * * * *
“Adam, can you hear me?” I said, looking into his eyes. He was coherent, blinking and gazing about the cabin in wonder, but he did not speak. Occasionally his body would tense and buck as his fingers tightened around the arm rests. I fear that I may have done some damage while stumbling about in his fetid brain as the twelve batteries were slightly too much of a jolt, even within their weakened condition. With haste I disconnected them, one by one, until the convulsions and clenched teeth eased off. It was the sixth battery that did the trick, but again, there was something preventing him from talking. I assumed one of my electrode was in the wrong part of his cerebrum, but dared not probe it any further.
After several minutes of addressing him directly, with no response, I decided to unplug him completely. Ending his suffering now would be those most humane thing to do, but explaining it to Abel would prove highly difficult. Yet it seemed to be my only option, and I could not look into those eyes any further, knowing that he was looking back at me to end his suffering. Slowly I reached over, and disconnected the fifth battery, then reach for the fourth.
“Where’s Abel?” He hoarsely m uttered, and I froze as Steph squealed in shock. My hand was gently holding onto the connection, trembling from both shock and excitement. “Who are you?”
“My name is Patrick.” I stuttered as I cooled my nerves and withdrew my hand. “Do you know your name?”
“Yes.” He stated, but did not provide it.
“We may not have much time.”
“You mean…” He stopped, realization of the situation sinking in, that soon he will submerge back into the depths of hell. “Why have you done this? Just kill me!” He cried.
“Abel will be here shortly, but I need to advise you of a few things and ask you some questions.”
“It hurts.” He whispered, the cringe across his face was the only sign of his suffering.
Before I could address Steph, she was already filling a syringe with pain-killers, but since all of our morphine had been stolen, she had mix together some milder drugs. I just prayed they would be enough. After the injection, I could still see the pain in his eyes, but slowly they began to kick in. It was not complete suppression of his agony, but enough for him to focus and function.
“Why are you here?” He barked, his agitation increasing.
“I am here for you, and your son. I discovered Mia’s remains in Rockland.” I said, and his eyes grew in both anger and sorrow.
“Mia?”
“I found your journal, within the Fort.”
“GFS.” He stated.
“Yes.”
“What do you want?” He said with a growl, his hands reaching out from under their binds, by his own will or Valkyrie’s, I can’t be sure.
“We performed an extensive autopsy on Mia…”
“You defiled her?” Adam interrupted in anger.
“We took good care of her, even gave her a proper burial.” I waited for a response but received only a furious gaze. “Mia was immune to the virus, which is why I am here.”
The fury in his eyes faded into bewilderment, and soon sank into mournful regret. A single tear, murky and polluted, shed from his right eye as he became aware of his untimely actions back at the fort, aware that Mia could still be around if he wasn’t so hasty. But it wasn’t his fault, he had no way of knowing, and I would have surely done the same. However, regret is unimportant at the moment, I had to keep his mind on track.
“I need you to concentrate for a moment.”
“How long have I?” He ended his question prematurely.
“About a year.” I answered.
“A year?” He appeared dumbfounded by the answer. But after a moment of contemplation he put his mind back on track. “And you’re here for Abel?” He asked.
“Yes, we hoped he had Mia’s immunity, but it appears not, he is in fact, infected.”
“Yes. I know.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about it?”
“No. He’s had it since birth. It is not in complete control. Idon’t know anything else.”
“I need you to convince him to let me draw some blood and perform a full examination.”
“Why?”
“So I can find out…” I began.
“No, why should I help you?” He said coldly.
Carefully I ponder on what I should say, as to gain his trust, and to not enrage him further.
“For humanity. For your son, and his children to come.”
“Fuck humanity. One word from me and he will tear your throat out.” He said, the rage in his eyes growing.
“I understand your resentment. But if I should die, the world will burn, and your son will feel the sting of it.”
The decaying hero of our time let out a hoarse and phlegmy chuckle.
“He would be king of the dead.”
“Maybe. But he would be a lonely king, never knowing the touch of a woman, or the smell of his own newborn child.” The hate in his eyes slowly faded into acknowledgment.
“If I agree, you must do something for me.” He stated, an eerie calm hanging over him.
“Anything.”
“First, put a bullet in my head, end this agony.”
“I promise.”
“Second.” He released a pitiful cough. “When you get your answers, you leave this mountain and let my son be.”
I thought about it for a moment, my ultimate goal was to coax is son to return with us, but how could I refuse my own idol. After his life-force ended, I could just go against my word, but my own personal damnation was more unappealing than a world of the damned.
“I swear my life on it.”
“Then go fetch my son.” He muttered, and with a quick nod of gratitude I exited the cabin.
* * * * * “Papa!”
The boy exclaimed as he entered the room, but not in
excitement of this morbid reunion, but in disgust of the diabolical contraption his father was subjected to. I could see in his eyes that Abel was mortified, enraged, and ready to kill. His fists tightened like a clinch-knot, and the veins on his forehead bore through the skin. But, Adam was awestruck and completely beside himself. For a moment, brief as it may have been, he had forgotten that he was still conscious and just stared in awe.
“Abel my son,” He finally choked out. “I can’t believe how big you’ve grown.”
The child calmed instantly, shocked that his father was truly speaking, unsure of what to say. I surmise that even though Adam sees and hears all while in the zombified state, things such as time and change are not cognitive. One could watch the world evolving before their eyes over a vast period of time, but to them it is still that first horrific day of their transformation. A hell overshadowing hell.
“Papa.” The boy muttered meekly.
“It’s me, Abel, I’m still here.”
“I’m sorry, Papa!” The boy broke down in tears.
“Don’t be, it is I that am sorry for you. Sorry that I never came back.”
“I looked for you, every day, Papa.” Abel sobbed.
“I know you did, my boy has already become a man, I couldn’t be more proud.”
“Can you stay? I don’t want you to go again.”
“No, but even though you won’t see me, I will always be with you.” Adam said mournfully, and Abel began to sob even louder as a drivel of snot dangled from his nose.
“Like Mama?” He asked.
“Yes,” Adam answered, “Just like Mama.” There was a second of silence before he continued. “Abel, I need you to listen, and listen well.” The boy picked his head up high and proud. “In a few moments you will leave the cabin, and this man is going to put me to sleep.” The boy gasped slightly at the words. “He is then going to takesome of yourblood, and youwill let him.” Abelnodded in grief. “This is your mountain now, and you will drive this man, and all others far from it, understand?” The boy nodded once again, wiping the tears from his eyes with his arm, then casting me a hateful glare. Adam then turned his attention towards me.
“Leave, so I can be alone with my son.” He said coldly.
I didn’t argue, respectfully Steph and I left the cabin, however staying close enough to try and catch their conversation. It was immoral, yes, but I am still in enemy territory and need to avoid as many surprises as possible. Unfortunatelythough, in Adam’s weakened state, his voice did not carry well. And regretfully I was only able to make out two words, one statement, which raised the hairs on my neck and twisted my stomach into knots.
“Kill him.”
Steph heard it too and stared at me with concern. But we did not speak of it. The two of them discussed much more, before and after that phrase, so it is unclear as to what context he meant. But those words played on my mind, and the thought of escaping now was in the forefront. But, I had nothing to go back to without his blood, and this mission would end as just another waste of resources… of lives. Die here at the hands of a troubled boy, or make it back with the cure for all, were my only choices.
After a half hour the boy exited his home, once again wiping his face, and glaring at me in rage.
“He asks for you.”
The boy scorned before waltzing off into the forest as Steph rushed after him to provide comfort, and I watch quietly as their silhouettes melded into the darkness before reentering the cabin.
“Did you hear enough?” Adam immediately asked, reminding me of his intelligence.
“Not quite.” I stuttered.
“Before we get on with the mercy-kill,” He coughed hoarsely, “I have one more question.”
“Whatis it?”
“Where was she buried?” He paused a moment as I stared into his darkened eyes, “Mia?”
“We made a tomb for her, within the Rockland break-water, beneath your statue.”
“Statue?” He chuckled. “Old world facades.” And he was right. “End it.” Adam cringed.
“Can I ask you another question, before we commence?”
“You’re as persistent as you are invasive.” He sneered at me, and I waited for his answered. “Ask what you must.”
“The dayMia…” Ipaused, seeking compassion in myquestion, “That day, back at For Rockland, I saw you standing on the breakwater holding Abel and watching the sunset. Did you notice me?”
“I did.” He muttered.
“Why did you leave, then? Why take the risk of traveling back here rather than joining us?”
“There was greater risk a joining those who killed Mia.” He scowled.
“I understand your animosity, and with my deepest sympathies we did not bring you to Rockland with malice in mind. We are truly trying to save mankind.”
“Your intentions are empty, as is all of mankind.” He muttered. “And now you waste my time with trivial questions. End this… NOW!”
I hesitated for a moment, unwilling to let him go, but compassion soon defeated my selfishness. Slowly I reached for a screwdriver lying next to my makeshift contraption and silently moved to his rear. Again selfishness delayed my response, I needed more from this encounter, in a way it felt unfulfilling, pointless. And as I fought with my own demons, my own choices, the man before me began to struggle. In frustration, or under the influence of the virus, I did not know, nor did I ponder it much.
“DO IT!” Adam growled.
As not to send him back into Valkyrie’s veil, I left the connections in place, and drove the screwdriver into his brain-stem. With the hiss of his last breath Adam became still, and my heart sank. As a heavy and dark gloominess fell over me, I worked silently to remove our barbaric contraption before reattaching his skull and cleaning him up for the next phase of Abel’s transition. An enigmatic time of mourning.
Penal Servitude
For twelve days, twelve grueling and debilitating days, I was a slave. Not by lawless raiders, nor any other faction or colony, but by a six year old boy with a heart full of anger and contempt. There was no rhyme or reason for it, and much like ancient history, my thralldom was a long series of work, punishment, and more work. There is so much mystery within Abel that it baffles me, however the cruel acts that he calmly demonstrates is something that no child should find commonplace.
It began on the morning after his father’s overdue passing, the morning after a long and mournful night of grief and anger. For hours Steph and I watched as the boy stood motionless by his tranquil father, the only God he knew, and after his silent goodbyes he transitioned into a rapid dance between sorrow and rage. I patted his back with compassion during those moments of wailing tears, and hid away in the corner while he stormed about on a rampage, uttering indiscernible insults towards both me and his father. Steph’s motherly instincts kicked in, and was able to console the boy better than I.
There was even a moment that Abel conversed with his father, conjuring about old memories, and reacting as if his father was communing from beyond. In a normal world this spectacle would have been considered eerie and nerve-racking, however it passed me by as just another dreadful cliché of a world built on pain and misery. What intrigued me more was the moment the boy sliced off a lock of his father’s hair and soon after he mended it with that of his mothers, as if to give them an ethereal embrace.
By the time daylight had slowly crept up and over the landscape, a dark and thick storm-cloud billowed overhead, and Abel had found the acceptance and closure he needed from the night’s ordeal. Independently the boy dragged his father out of the cabin and towards the fire-pit. I assume the same pit that has cremated many of the Infected, and even those demonic wolves that Adam spoke about in his first journal.
Refusing my assistance, the boy built up a shaky funeral pyre before lifting his father’s corpse atop of it, and all we could do was watch his struggle and pain. Gently he placed Adam’s arms over his chest, and straightened his leg while brushing miniscule debris from his ragged clothes. After he was satisfied, he retrieved a rusty gas can from the shed, and then silently ventured into the cabin. A low rumble of thunder rolled over the mountains, echoing between them as Mother Nature prepared for a timelytempest of Adam’s last rites.
Abel exited the cabin shortly after, with his head low, and marching like a lone pallbearer. As he reached his father’s dry and brittle alter, he casually
place something within Adam’s left hand. It wasn’t until the boy stepped back that I caught a glimpse of the object, and in an instant my heart ached. As the winds picked up the golden strands of Mia’s hair and the silver fibers of his fathers fluttered transcendently in the breeze, brushing lovingly against this fabled survivors hand like it was the last earthly kiss from his beloved.
“Do you know how to pray?” The boy asked, breaking the mournful silence.
“A little.” Steph spoke up with compassion, and he looked up at her with those cloudy eyes that stated a simple and pathetic ‘please’ without ever utteringaword. Steph remained silent, racking her brain, trying to remember even the simplest verses from her past, but eventually she did recalled one. Her reiteration may not have followed true gospels, but instead was conformed to befit the boy and his late father.
“O Gaia, we are honored to be here as you take this loving father; forgive his trespasses; and allow his only son to see him again in the joy of your everlasting spirit. Through your supreme guidance, Amen.”
Although her face blushed with embarrassment by her lack of originality, the boy still threw her a thankful glare and a quick nod. Abel then turned back to his father as he picked up the gas can and generously poured the black sludge all about the pyre as a hefty blast of fumes entered my lungs and choked my airways. Quietly he set the can back down just a few feet away before retrieving a homemade tinderbox from his pocket and casually prepped to ignite the platform before us.
With the swift whoosh, the pyre exploded into a gulf of flame just as Mother Nature released her hounds with a blinding flash that instantly split a not-so distant oak straight down the middle milliseconds before the deafening clap of thunder shook ground like a war-torn battle field. A thick black smoke rose from the inferno like the ghosts of the plague, blacking out the raging storm above, and blanketing the area in a dull smog.
Thunder and lightning continued for a few more moments, but not once did it rain, instead the clouds slowly moved off towards the west as the sun fought for dominance. We stood there for hours, watching the remains of his father slowly reduce into ash until there was nothing more than a heap of smoldering cinders and charred bone. And as if an Angel reached down to pull Adam up, the cloud of soot dissipated and a surreal beacon of sunshine bared down upon his remains. We stood side by side, in silence, and wallowed in our own anguish and depression.