The Colony Box Set

by J. D. Grayson

  They’d end up in an unmarked hole.

  Part II-Sacrifice

  The Present Day

  Aionios rested in his temple, awaiting the coming ceremony. Eden joined him, though did not reside there. Unworthy of such a kingly place, she was located in one of the distant rock structures. Like her pets of choice, she didn’t crave walls of gold, but a lair of moist darkness.

  The inner temple was a triangular room of gold. Warmed by bright light, the sharp tones reflected upon smooth skin. Aionios sat in his metallic throne, fanned by women with palm fronds.

  His skin was a dark shade of onyx, only outdone by darker eyes. His 12-inch cock dangled off the kingly chair, swaying in powerful swagger. If he wasn’t an actual god, no one let him in on the secret. A team of multiethnic servants massaged his skin with lotion, slicking his body to a shine. Any blemish was concealed, ensuring a look of omnipotence.

  Eden sat in a smaller, less prominent chair at his side. Her albino python hung upon her body, roving her naked skin. She was also pampered from head to toe. Being a symbol of beauty, appearance defined her sole worth.

  Aionios would never be seen with an aging image of imperfection. It would weaken him in the eyes of the faithful. Eden’s aids rubbed her tanned body with coco-butter, softening her skin in a rich sheen.

  They were served meals of endangered tortoise meat and rare beluga caviar. Tasters sampled Aionios’ food and wine, assuring safety. After draining a gem-studded chalice, he shouted in impatience. “It’s a crime for my cup to run empty!” His accent was Nigerian, his English well spoken.

  A servant hurried with a pitcher of wine, filling the chalice with shaking hands. Aionios took a large sip. In a fit of spoiled anger, he spit it into the female servant’s face. Next, he flung the cup’s remaining liquid at her. “That’s for making me wait. Fill it again!” The humiliated female followed orders. He set it aside, never intending to drink.

  Three succulent female’s lay in his plume bed. They were his conquests for the night. Rising unannounced, Aionios stepped to the temple rock’s balcony door. The servants dropped sweet smelling herbs at his feet.

  Anger painted his face. As Eden took her place behind him, he declared, “The blond woman...she can’t be gone. She was to be tested for conception...could’ve been the chosen one.”

  “She’s dead, Aionios,” Eden said with a sly smile. “Her husband...the fugitive they caught yesterday...admitted killing her. He tossed her body into the deep ocean...gone forever. If she carried your heir...it’s gone too.”

  Fury filled Aionios’ face. He’d wanted revenge on Gunner Smith, having been informed of his recent capture. “I want the entire sea floor combed...every damn inch! I need to know!”

  “I cannot speak on the matter, great Aionios. As an outlet for your desires, I am just here to serve you,” she said in a bitter tone.

  Aionios whispered into a servant’s ear, who quickly exited the room. He announced, “Then the blasphemer will be offered up as today’s sacrifice. He will pay for his crimes against me!”

  Eden’s snake slipped along her skin. A deviant smile crossed her lips, aiming to destroy the deity’s hope. She felt no guilt for betraying him. Having already terminated Jenna’s pregnancy, she planned on keeping her play-toy secretly enslaved.

  Such a tool could be useful for future endeavors. She thought, If the blond was truly the one to fulfill the prophecy, then I’ve changed destiny. I will outlive Aionios. Someday...I may even replace him.

  *****

  Night skies were clear, moon full. High tide crashed into the shores, snaking through volcanic rock structures. Dylan and Alexa took their spots in the citizens’ circle. Facing the temple rock, fire-lit torches set a mystical mood. A stone altar sat in the circle’s center.

  The messenger arrived with an innocent-looking blond girl. She was placed upon the altar, tied spread eagle. “Friends, line up and drink from the virgin,” he ordered the citizens.

  Dylan and Alexa stepped in line. They watched in curiosity. A brunette man was the first recipient. He kneeled between the girl’s legs, awaiting a constant craving. Standing at her head, the messenger drenched the virgin in paradox-laced wine. The dosage was high, not dangerous. It offered enough kick to create a strong spiritual awakening.

  He poured it from a large jug, one of many carried by waiting servants. A river was poured into her mouth, overflowing down her chin. It sailed through the breasted valley, flowing into her pink folds.

  Licking her sweet crape, the kneeling citizen lapped up the blend of juices. As each moment expired, the hallucinogenic brew flowed stronger. Streaming onto his tongue, the man drank with desert camel thirst.

  Reaching his limit, he was forced away by the robed guards. The line of citizens took separate turns. Alexa’s moment arrived. She dropped to her knees, sipping the seeping virgin. Having licked her best friend in college, she’d craved another visit to the vaginal valley.

  As the wine touched her taste buds, a new craving emerged. Every sense came alive. Her roving tongue spun like a tornado blown pinwheel. She couldn’t get enough of the paradox effect.

  Forced away, her body lunged for more. The robed guards yanked her back, confusing Dylan. She’s not like that. What could be so great about that wine...to cause such reaction?

  Kneeling into position, Dylan’s question was quickly quelled. He buried his face inside the virgin’s box. Awash in her pleasure, he savored the first taste. With every ingested drop, a desire built like never before.

  His mouth filled like a shore at high tide. Sucking her fermented slit, he drank with obsessive lust. Syphoning every bead of reddish liquid, he consumed her like liquid air. As the temple guards grabbed him, Dylan gripped onto the altar. He refused to let go, driven to extremity.

  However, he wouldn’t have to fight. Being last in line, the messenger was handed another pitcher. “Everyone...drink your fill!”

  Another deep drenching drowned the virgin. Dylan continued suckling her folds as a tongue touched his. It was Alexa, fighting for more. Others pushed him aside, claiming her asshole. Within moments, the citizens attacked the altar in rabid appetite.

  They licked every inch of her skin, sucking and biting. Even her mouth was invaded by three tongues. Desperate citizens squeezed her hair, ringing every drop like a wet mop. Madness reigned. It appeared they’d even kill for their new addiction.

  Pounding drums filled the air. Air-blasts were unleashed from the seafloor, spraying the temple rock with saltwater. A fog machine flowed from Aionios’ balcony, accompanied by blood red lights.

  Stepping through the fog, Aionios appeared to his believers. His hands were extended, as if casting some kind of spell. It resembled a Hollywood light show. Eden took her place behind him.

  “Praise Aionios,” they shouted, breaking from the drink. Only the otherworldly deity could tear them away. Dropping to the cloth mats, they began bowing. Dylan and Alexa remained drinking from the virgin. The two newbies were forced away. Pushed upon their knees, they quickly learned their roles.

  Aionios’ deep voice sounded from hidden speakers. Echoing through air like night thunder, the paradox’s effects amplified his presence. His powerful tone vibrated through each ear, rattling their affected brains.

  Their eyes saw a magical man at work. A reddish ora ringed Aionios’ body. The more fury he released, the more they feared his inhumanity. Having seen the horned image in the worship center, the seed of suggestion was preconditioned into their brains. They’d merely see the vision projected by their mind.

  Aionios placed two fingers upon his head, letting them grow into sharp horns. His mouth opened, revealing razor sharp teeth. The man’s eyes glowed, mouth projected beams of light.

  As much as Dylan wanted to deny it, he was a man of visual proof. This can’t be real...can’t be happening...can it? He remembered his own mantra: Not seen, not believed. However, his eyes were seeing it.

  His smell test was met. The skeptic could no long
er deny it. Aionios is real, he silently declared. Dylan dropped down into a devoted bow. That worship was interrupted by a sermon.

  Few words were spoken, but their weight was great. Aionios’ harsh tone flowed through his hidden microphone. “Tonight...your sacrifice to me will be greater than anything before. I command you to set the virgin free!”

  “No!” the crowd shouted in drugged disappointment.

  Their cries went unheeded. While guards untied the girl, the worshipers got angry. They thirsted in untamable craving. Paradox’s desire pushed them beyond sex, into the arms of excessive deviance. Although the citizens were tools of Aionios, paradox was their true deity.

  They rose, blocking the virgin’s escape. They grabbed at her body, trying to tear her limb from limb. The guards readied their weapons, though Aionios calmed the fury. “I shall replace one reward...with something greater. A sacrifice truly worthy of me.”

  Pausing, the crowd returned their attention to Aionios. A muscular, masked man was led through the crowd. The leather hood hid his identity. As the virgin escaped, he took her place.

  The hooded man was cuffed, pushed to his knees. Red robed guards administered stones to the crowd. Dylan examined the heavy weapon. “What’s this for?” he slurred, his head spinning with sparking light.

  Aionios’ next announcement provided an answer. “A man you know...has wronged you. He stole food from the communal trees. He defied your deity in blaspheme!”

  A collective roar filled the air. The people spit upon the hooded man. Who is he? Dylan wondered.

  Aionios continued. “Gunner Smith murdered his wife, Jenna...after she lay with me. For this...he shall die true death. For this...you will stone him!”

  A furious roar exited their lungs, as the first stone flew. It struck the prisoner’s rib. Another stone struck his hip. More stones began hailing down upon the condemned prisoner.

  He fought to remain upward, bloodied and bruised. His arm bone visibly shattered, exciting the blood hungry mob. After a long wait, Alexa tossed hers hitting the prisoner’s back. Turning towards Dylan, she saw his stone in-hand. “Do it!” she screamed.

  The crowd turned towards the trembling man. They repeated her cry. “Do it! Aionios commands you! Now!”

  Aionios stared into the crowd. Eden’s gaze followed. Focusing on the new arrival, both figureheads took note of Dylan’s pause. However, they had opposite interpretations in its meaning.

  Dylan stared down at his weapon. This man came to me, telling me to run. Is Smith an enemy...or a friend?

  Crowd anger grew. Mr. Hunter was shoved front and center, directly at the masked man’s face. The two men caught eyes, a bloodshot gaze peered from behind the covering.

  Shame filled Dylan. What are you becoming? He asked himself. Before his arrival on the island, he’d never taken life. It would be his second kill in as many days. Even worse, both were at the colony’s insistence. Individual choice was replaced by collective thought. If he didn’t do as the group demanded, he’d face their stones next.

  Dylan broke eye contact. Gripping the stone tightly, he flung it into the leathery face with brutal force. The mask’s front side caved in. The prisoner toppled over. An animalistic roar exited from the crowd.

  The drums banged again, primitive dancing followed. Everyone touched each other, sensually roving their ora-ringed bodies. Dylan looked spooked. He gazed at the stage, connecting eyes with a glowing-white Eden.

  She’d heard about him killing Thomas. Informed of his passion for Alexa, she focused on his handsome, guilt-ridden face. Opportunistic thoughts infected her mind. What if I turn passion for his wife...into passion for me. What if I turn his guilt...into my weapon?

  Dylan’s gaze shifted towards an angry Aionios. The living deity had observed Mr. Hunter as closely. I will keep an eye on him, he thought.

  As the temple guards dragged the lifeless prisoner away, the man’s arms flopped outward. Dylan gazed at him, aided in concise focus by the paradox. In a flash, he realized something was missing.

  Gunner Smith had a tattoo. The dead prisoner did not.

  *****

  “In the citizens’ eyes, Gunner Smith was captured...executed. A lesson was learned...a mistake they won’t dare make. Isn’t that what matters?” Fredrick Grey asked Dr. Freedmen by conference call.

  Commander Grey sat in an office of modern technology. The guards’ main base was hidden from citizens, a distance down shore. There were no such luxuries awarded to civilians.

  Raymond Freedmen appeared on a monitor, speaking from his San Francisco practice. “Commander...you were hired to keep these people corralled. Fooling them is my job...containing them is yours!”

  “I understand, doctor...I do. I beat Mr. Smith myself...he was lifeless. Tossing him to the natives...was just a final act of disrespect.”

  “Your job was to put him in a damn hole...nothing else.”

  The commander paused in silence. “Even if he’s alive...he’ll never survive out there. We’ve seen the Western side firsthand...seen what those...savages do.”

  “That’s not good enough! He should’ve been tossed in a mass grave. I want a body! In fact, I want them all finally accounted for!”

  “Are you suggesting I...go out there?” he asked in rare concern.

  After a pause, Dr. Freedmen spoke boldly. “The days of ceding land are over. Have your men resume the hunt...clear out the scum. All of it. You’ll lead them personally.”

  Uncharacteristic fear struck the commander’s face. “Our weapons can’t compare to their...animalistic behavior. We can’t scare colony members with gunshots or bomb blasts. What options do we have left?”

  “Think about that...the next time you decide to play god! We’ve already filled that position!” Dr. Freedmen shouted. “If you can’t handle this mission, I’ll bring in someone who can.”

  “I can!” Fredrick insisted, knowing there was no ticket home.

  “Our billion dollar operation won’t be undermined. A fortune is at stake...a group of thugs won’t bring down my legacy! Do you understand?”

  “I do, sir. May we wait for the next cloudy night? The full moon...puts us at greater risk.”

  “I doubt that will matter, but...if you must. I want every one of them hunted...both sides.”

  “I won’t let you down.”

  “One last thing. Did you deal with the pregnancy?”

  “Eden took care of it.”

  “Good. The last thing we need...is that kook buying our lie.”

  *****

  A gasp sailed from Dylan Hunter’s lungs. He rose from bed as if waking from a horrific nightmare.

  “It’s OK,” a feminine voice said, rubbing his back in comfort.

  Looking beside him, pregnant Lilly was snuggled into his side. Next to her was Marco, who encased Alexa in his arms. Covered in sweat, Dylan wiped his face. His heart was pounding, unsure of what to think. “I...killed him.”

  “Who?” Lilly asked.

  “The masked man...we all did.”

  “Someone had too much wine,” Marco whispered from his slumber.

  Lilly smiled, continuously rubbing his back. “You just had a nightmare, I’m sure.”

  Suddenly, they were startled by Alexa’s gasp. She sat up, trembling. The fearful look upon her face matched Dylan’s.

  “You remember it too?” Dylan asked.

  After a long pause, Alexa said, “I remember...Aionios...horns...wine...sex...death,” she gripped her head in hangover.

  “Aionios came to you,” Lilly said. He visits our dreams.”

  “Both of us...the same dream?” Dylan asked. “It felt so...damn real.”

  “It is real, poppy,” Marco said. “Just not the reality we understand. It’ll all make sense someday...to us all.”

  Dylan and Alexa were confused. However, one thing was clear. If it did happen, their bedmates had no recollection of it.

  Part II-Temptation

  Adam walked a line of ditch-digging males.
They’d already completed a mile-long row, enabling more vegetables to be grown. While one man picked the south-side’s sandy soil, another shoveled it. The fit foreman carried a leather strap, keeping a close eye on progress.

  It was Dylan’s first day of communal work assignment. Manual labor wasn’t naturally in his blood, coming from an affluent family. Working the financial field since college, air conditioned offices and plush seats were his past. However, when put to the test, he was tougher than most expected. With no choice in the matter, he had to step up. For every need met, he’d work it off tenfold.

  The day was hotter than usual, reaching 85 degrees. At midday, the bright sun baked the workers. Having labored for hours, Dylan kept swinging the pickaxe. As strong as he was, his muscles ached. Craving water, he felt weakness began to creep in. He wondered, How do they work so hard without water, a bathroom break? Why don’t they ask...complain?

  A lineman suddenly fell from exhaustion, proving his humanity. Adam shouted, “Get up! These crops will go in today or Aionios won’t eat! If Aionios doesn’t eat...none of us eat! We’re behind the day’s quota already!”

  Dylan gazed at endless miles of ripe fruit and vegetables. There’s enough to feed an entire town here. No one will starve. What quota must we meet? Of course, he kept the questions to himself.

  The weak worker tried to stand, collapsing again. Adam whipped the trembling man’s backside. A cry filled the air. Dylan paused, stopping to watch. He was shocked by the act. His bigger surprise was in the lack of brethren concern. They worked without pause.

  “We will earn our keep! We will meet our quota!” Adam yelled, whipping the man again.

  Attempting to stand one last time, the man collapsed into the sand. Adam hurled the whip again. Another lashing followed. To Dylan’s dismay, a storm of bloody beatings continued. He began to approach.

  “Don’t do it, bro,” Marco warned in a whisper. “Work...don’t think.”

  “He’ll kill that man,” Dylan whispered back, taking another swing at the dirt.