Family Secrets (The Nocturnia Chronicles Book 2)

by Thomas F Monteleone

  She made a face. “Talent?”

  “I don’t know what else to call it.”

  “As good as anything, I guess.” She hesitated, then, “Yeah, I think it might be stronger.”

  “How do you feel about the Jantzes?”

  “Nothing bad. Come on. Breakfast will be getting cold.”

  He watched her go down the ladder, then lay back for a moment. That dream… it seemed somehow familiar. And then he remembered he’d had a similar vision when the ethereal had been inside him back in Falzon’s cell. Was this some kind of residual memory? But he didn’t recall hearing anything at that time. In the dream he’d heard a word that sounded like “Bluthkalt” repeated over and over.

  Who or what was a Bluthkalt?

  11

  “We’re going like this?” Emma said, suddenly feeling anxious. “Just as we are?”

  “Exactly as you are,” said Orin Jantz with a smile.

  She and Ryan sat stiff and tense in the back seat of Orin’s car as he guided it into the woods. Cal had shotgun.

  “But don’t we need to put hair on our palms?” Ryan said.

  Orin held up his hand and showed them his own bare palm. “Like mine?”

  “That’s fine for you, ’cause you’re the real thing. But we’re–”

  “Wellll, don’t you worry about it, my dear. Where we’re going, you’ll stand out if you do have hair on your palms.”

  “You mentioned a ‘surprise.’ Is this it?”

  Orin nodded. “The local chapter of NETH is protesting a sheeple hunt. That’s Nocturnians for the Ethical Treatment of Humans.”

  She nodded. Dillon had mentioned NETH.

  “Sheeple hunt?” Ryan said, leaning forward. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Exactly what you’d think: A bunch of sheeple are let loose in a fenced off park and lycans pay to be let in to hunt them. They actually bid for the right.”

  Emma remembered reading a story in Miss Engstrom’s class this past year called “The Most Dangerous Game,” where a man hunted humans on his private island. The tale had upset her, but she’d been able to get through it by telling herself it was only a story.

  But here on Nocturnia it was real.

  She swallowed. “Do they hunt them with guns?”

  “Oh, no,” Orin said, his voice rising. “That would be too civilized. No, they trans and hunt them down in wolf form.”

  “And the sheeple are unarmed?”

  Emma recalled the bad guy in “The Most Dangerous Game” – General Something-or-other. At least he let his prey have a knife.

  “Wellll, sheeple don’t have the brains to use a weapon. They don’t even know they’re being hunted until it’s too late.”

  “Some sport,” Cal said.

  Orin shook his head. “They call it ‘blood sport.’ I call it ‘blood lust.’ It’s absolutely barbaric. Makes me ashamed to be a lycan.”

  She turned to Ryan. “We saw something like that our second night here, out in the woods on the way to Armagost farm.”

  “In the woods?” Orin said. “Probably an illegal hunt. They steal a sheeple or two from one of the farms, let them loose in the woods, then hunt them down. Steep penalties for that. Good thing they didn’t see you or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  Ryan said, “You mean …?”

  “Right. You’d have become prey right then and there.”

  They drove the rest of the way in silence.

  Emma wasn’t sure she wanted to be part of this, even if as a protestor. The thought of helpless people being hunted down and torn to pieces…

  Eventually they arrived at a clearing where two dozen or so people were gathered before a high, chain-link fence. They carried signs on poles.

  FREE THE

  SHEEPLE!

  and:

  STOP SHEEPLE

  ABUSE!

  and one in blood-red letters:

  COWARDS!

  COWARDS!

  COWARDS!

  As soon Emma and the others stepped out of the car they were welcomed with smiles and handed signs of their own. Everyone seemed to know Orin and he introduced his passengers as his no-carn niece and nephews visiting from Flada.

  “Wellll,” Orin said, pulling them aside, “this is a legal hunt, so we can’t enter the park. You’ll get arrested if you do, and you three can’t risk that, because they may discover you’re not lycans. Then it’ll be back to the farm for you. So just walk up and down along the fence with everybody else. Add your voices to the chants.”

  Emma joined the march and got into the rhythm of the chanting, but she saw no movement or signs of life on the other side of the fence beyond birds and squirrels. It looked like any public park back home in Kansas – a deserted park. Why were they here? For the life of her she couldn’t see the point. Boooring.

  “What are we accomplishing?” she said to Orin when they took a water break in the shade of nearby tree.

  “We’re raising consciousness. We’re not letting this happen like it’s just business as usual.” He pointed to a complex of low, flat buildings atop the rise on the far side of the park. “See that? It’s a sheeple farm. The victims of the hunt were no doubt bought from there.”

  “Farm? You mean–?”

  “Yes. Where they’re bred, and fed, and fattened up until they’re ready for slaughter at the carvery.”

  “Treated like animals, in other words.”

  “Wellll, they are animals. Actually, they’re dumber than many animals. Their–” He looked over her shoulder and waved. “Excuse me. I have to talk to someone.”

  Cal, Ryan, and – surprise – Dillon walked up as Orin hurried away.

  “Look who we found,” Ryan said.

  Emma was glad to see him again, but wished it were under better circumstances.

  “Why are you here?”

  Dillon smiled. “My mom’s a no-carn, like me, remember? She couldn’t stay away. I’ve been going stir crazy at home, so I came along. I had a feeling Orin might bring you along.”

  Emma stepped closer, spoke in a low voice. “Have you been able to get word to Telly?”

  “I wish. My dad’s keeping me on such a short leash, I haven’t been able to get over to the compound.”

  “Telly must be worried sick.”

  “You look like you’re gonna be sick,” her brother said.

  “I might be.” She pointed up the hill. “Orin was just telling me about that sheeple farm. Makes me ill.”

  Dillon said, “If it makes you ill from here, you’d probably die if you were in one.”

  “How would you know?”

  He pointed up the hill. “My father put me to work in that very farm when one summer. Let me tell you, it turned me into a no-carn.”

  “If they’re that bad, why don’t you all just close them down?”

  “Easier said than done,” Dillon said with a shrug. “The truth is, most of Nocturnia’s cultures are dependent on humans for their existence. The zombies need organ meats to survive; the nossies need to drink blood; the pluribans use human parts – as well as parts from other Nocturnians – to make new pluribans. They all need a steady supply of humans to exist. They can't depend on hijacking enough from Humania, so… they raise them like cattle.”

  Cal chimed in. “The ancestors of sheeple were normal humans, just like you and me, who had the misfortune to cross over into Nocturnia. The pluribans lowered their intelligence. The result is a bunch of stupid, docile creatures who eat and sleep and breed and go wherever they’re herded without an original thought of their own.”

  “They’re kept fenced in so they don’t wander off,” Dillon said. “They're fed at troughs, bred for body types, and some are kept tightly penned for tenderness–”sheal” is a delicacy. So are free-range sheeple.”

  “Now I’m gonna be sick,” Ryan said. “Why don’t they fight back?”

  Cal shook his head. “Because they’re sheeple. They don’t know any better.”

&n
bsp; Ryan looked out toward the open field. “Yeah, it’s like cows all of a sudden deciding to have a revolt. Unreal.”

  Emma’s felt her fists knot with anger. “That’s just… awful!”

  “Of course it is,” said Orin, returning. “These poor dumb creatures can’t speak for themselves. Somebody has to be their voice. That’s why we’re here.”

  “But who’s listening?”

  “No one now.” Orin smiled as he craned his neck and pointed to the sky. “But soon the whole world will see.”

  Emma stepped out into the midday sun and saw a small zeppelin floating directly above. A large black N3 was emblazoned on its side. N3… Nocturnia News Network.

  “Is Ambrose up there?”

  “I doubt it. But I told him about the protest and he said he’d do what he could to see that it made the news.”

  “You mean they’re filming this?”

  “They sure are. Let’s get back in the picket line.”

  As they headed back, Ryan said, “Can I ask you something – I mean, about breeding?”

  Oh, no, Emma thought. What’s he going to say now?

  Orin looked amused. “Didn’t your daddy ever have that talk with you?”

  Ryan smiled. “I think he’s scared to. But I was wondering if different kinds of Nocturnians ever, you know, get together.”

  “You mean breed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like, say, lycans and nossies having children?”

  “Exactly.”

  Orin shook his head. “Can’t happen. No cross-pollination on Nocturnia. We’re not different races here, we’re way more different than that. Like a mammal mating with a fish.”

  “Too bad,” Ryan said.

  “Why?”

  “Well, a ‘lyferatu’ could be interesting.”

  Orin laughed out loud. “You’re a mischievous one, aren’t you!”

  You don’t know the half of it, Emma thought.

  12

  Maybe half an hour later – Emma had no watch so she couldn’t be sure – a male sheeple appeared between the trees. Naked and hairless, he wandered from bush to bush, poking at the leaves and branches. Looking for berries?

  The marchers stopped and began calling to him, whistling and waving candy bars and saying, “Here, boy! Over here boy!”

  Ryan came up beside her. “It’s like… like he’s a dog.”

  “Dogs are smarter,” Cal said, joining them.

  Finally the sheeple heard the marchers and approached – warily at first, but then at a trot when he spotted the candy bars. Emma looked away, embarrassed by his nakedness.

  “Did they shave him?”

  Cal said, “Most of them are bred to have no hair. I guess it makes things easier at the carvery.”

  The sheeple reached the fence and grabbed one of the candy bars being held between the links. He took a tentative bite, then grinned and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. He grabbed another and did the same. Emma watched in disgust as chocolate began running down his chin. He was reaching for a third when a woman screamed and pointed into the park.

  A wolflike creature had emerged from the trees. All the protesters began banging their signs against the fence and shouting at it. The sheeple stumbled back, its expression terrified.

  “Go!” Emma cried, waving him away toward her left, away from the lycan. “Run!”

  He gave her a dumb look as he kept chewing his mouthful of candy.

  Then the inevitable: the lycan spotted the sheeple and let loose a long triumphant howl. The sheeple whirled as the howl was answered by others from farther away. When the sheeple saw the lycan, he let out a pathetic bleat and began to run. In a blind panic he dashed toward the trees as the lycan gave chase.

  “We’ve seen this before,” Ryan said at her side, his voice tight and low. “And we know how it ends.”

  “What can we do?” Emma said.

  Cal was shaking his head. “No one here can do anything – least of all, us.”

  True. Horribly true.

  The sheeple disappeared into the trees with the lycan in pursuit on all four legs, moving fast, steadily gaining. Emma plugged her ears against the very human screams she knew would follow all too soon. She looked up at the N3 balloon. What were they seeing from on high? And were they recording it? If so, she didn’t want to see it – ever.

  Just then a sheeple woman, as hairless as the man, wandered into view.

  “Aw, no!” Emma cried.

  “I’ll be damned if we stand here and let her be slaughtered too!” Orin yelled. He slapped a few people on the back and said, “Draw her over here. I’ll be right back.”

  The NETH protesters called to her and enticed her over with their candy bars. As she was stuffing her face, Orin returned with a pair of heavy-duty, long-handle wire cutters. A cheer went up as he began snipping the chain links.

  When the opening was big enough they lured the sheeple woman through and pulled her to safety. As the protestors cheered, Emma almost cried with relief.

  “We did it!” someone shouted. “We saved one!”

  “Is someone going to take her home?” Emma said.

  Orin shook his head. “Wellll, can’t do that, I’m afraid. Someone bought her – she’s property. Get caught and you can be jailed for stealing.”

  Emma found it almost inconceivable that she was having this conversation.

  “But you can’t own a human being!”

  He gave her a funny look, then placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Maybe not where you come from, but this isn’t Humania.”

  You can say that again, she thought.

  She watched the protestors drape a blanket over her shoulders and lead her to the end of the park. She followed. When they passed the corner of the fence, they shooed her off.

  “Go now! Be free! Go wherever you want! You’re free!”

  The sheeple woman looked around, confused. Then she spotted the sheeple farm on the hill and her face lit. She shrugged off the blanket and headed uphill.

  Ryan looked flabbergasted. “She’s…she’s going back to the farm!”

  “Why not?” Cal said. “To her, it’s home. That’s where she’s fed and has a roof over her head. She’s heading home.”

  “Then what have we accomplished?”

  “Wellll, we saved her from the hunters,” Orin said. “That’s plenty.”

  Emma said, “But she’s going back to where they’re going to fatten her up for the slaughterhouse.”

  Orin pointed to the balloon. “I repeat: We saved her from the hunters, and soon all the world is going to see how barbaric this is and help put a stop to it.”

  She looked at Ryan and found him looking at her. His lips were drawn into a tight line. He was going to say something he shouldn’t. She pressed a quick finger against her lips and gave her head a tiny shake.

  He let out a breath and shrugged.

  As Orin wandered away to confer with his fellow NETH members, she and Ryan watched the sheeple woman make a beeline for the farm.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “Stopping these hunts, no matter how barbaric they are, solves nothing.”

  “Right,” he said. “Double right. As long as humans are part of the daily diet around here, and as long as they’re so dumb–”

  “That’s not their fault.”

  “I know that, Emma. Not their fault they’ve had all their intelligence sucked off. But as long as they’re seen as dumb animals, nothing’s going to change.”

  “There must be something that can be done.”

  Cal said, “If we could find a way to make more people think like Dillon here…”

  “Tall order,” Dillon said. “No-carns are a tiny minority among lycans, and we’re looked on as crazy. They say it’s only natural for lycans to eat meat.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be human meat!” Emma said.

  Cal shook his head. “Maybe some scientist can change Nocturnia’s taste buds.”

  “Mayb
e.” Dillon shrugged. “Scientists created sheeple, so maybe–”

  “Wait,” Ryan said. “‘Created’? You said the pluribans started breeding them.”

  Dillon said, “They did, but only after one of them saw an opportunity and changed their genes to leave them with tiny brains capable of everything but thought. The argument is: If they can't think, they're just animals.”

  “Yeah,” Cal said with a bitter expression. “Crazy Doctor Bluthkalt. Nocturnia would be a better place if he’d never lived.”

  “Bluthkalt?” Ryan said with a shocked expression. “Bluthkalt’s a person?”

  “A very famous and very dead scientist.”

  “Forget about whoever he was,” Emma said. “Dead scientists aren’t going to help us find a solution. And there’s got to be a solution.”

  “Well, when you find it,’ Cal said, “let me know.”

  “I will find it.” She set her jaw. “And when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  She looked at Ryan for agreement but he was staring off into space, saying, “Bluthkalt? Bluthkalt?”

  13

  Telly did his best to look busy fixing a broken gizmo, but his attention was mainly focused across the courtyard on the entrance to Dr. Koertig’s lab. Sooner or later he had to leave.

  “Hey…what’s yer name?”

  Telly jumped at the sound of the gruff voice and froze when he saw the source.

  That troll, Ergel, from Armagost Farm. The one Telly had almost run over when he’d driven off with Emma and Ryan and Dillon.

  The memory brought a pang. He hadn’t heard a word from them. People in the higher elevations of the city had survived, but the lower levels had been wiped out. And he’d dropped them off down by the harbor. Poor kids…

  No, he wouldn’t believe it. They were survivors, especially that Ryan.

  “Y’hear me?” Ergel said.

  The troll had come around this morning looking to join the Uberalls. The group hardly ever turned anyone away – strength in numbers and all that – so they’d put him to work doing menial tasks. His current assignment was to sweep up the repair shop.

  Everything had happened so fast that night at the farm, Telly figured it unlikely the troll had got any sort of look at him in the dark – he’d been too busy leaping for his life.