A tug on Yusef's shoulder brought him face to face with a young youth pastor he wasn't quite familiar enough with to remember the young girl's name.
"Mr. Tahir, sir, Pastor Bradley needs to see you right away"—she leaned down and whispered more quietly in his ear—"it's about Umar's behavior in Sunday School this morning."
Yusef's palms went clammy the moment his son's name uttered from her lips. He nodded silently and rose to his feet as Pastor Williams shifted into some new sermon about something having to do with a wolf in sheep's clothing. The room was nearly spinning around Yusef. He followed the young girl as she headed between pews toward the far side of the room where the long hallway wandered off from the main part of the church and branched out into the various Sunday School rooms.
The slick hardwood floors seemed to barely stay beneath Yusef's feet as he rushed to keep up. They passed three doors on the left before swerving right down an adjacent passage and before Yusef could even let out a sound, the door to Umar's classroom passed them by.
At the end of the hallway, stood a solitary unlabeled door. The young girl, stopped, looked back at Yusef and said, "Just let me check with Pastor Bradley real quick and make sure it's okay to let you in."
Yusef opened his mouth to protest, "But..." She brought her finger up to shush him then disappeared behind the closed door. Yusef stood there a moment just fuming when the door burst open again and Lydia—whose name he now remembered suddenly for no discernible reason—nodded for him to come in, holding open the door. Yusef eased forward, barely able to contain the frustration born from the tension and worry that was clouding his head. Allah, please let this be quick and painless...
Once Yusef stepped inside, Lydia simply walked away, letting the door close between them. Yusef turned to find Pastor Bradley sitting at a large desk, glasses brimming the edge of his nose, and hands flipping through papers.
He gave no indication that he even noticed Yusef entering the room.
Yusef stepped forward, slowly, giving a fake gentle cough to make his presence known. "I was told... I was told you needed to see me about Umar?"
At the sound of Umar's name, Pastor Bradley's body seemed to grow cold and stiffened. "Yes, Mr. Tahir. I believe there's a serious matter you need to be aware of about your son."
Suddenly alert to the boy's absense, Yusef looked around the room, expecting to see Umar sitting at some lonely desk, a shameful expression drawing his eyes toward his feet. But he saw no such thing. If his son was in the room he must have become invisible. "Uh... Where is Umar, anyway?"
There was a snap from something in Pastor Bradley's hands. Two ends of a yellow pencil fell from his fingers and clacked against the wooden desk. "I think it's best we talk before I bring out your son, Mr. Tahir. Please... have a seat." He gestured toward a small desk at the front of the classroom directly in front of his own.
The room seemed to be shrinking and Yusef's body seemed to rise in temperature as he took in what the elder pastor had said.
Slowly and silently, Yusef took a deep breath and stepped up to the empty desk and sat down. As soon as he was seated, Pastor Bradley came to full attention as if he hadn't been actually interested in the conversation until his subject was in the docile position of being trapped in a child's school desk.
"Mr. Tahir, are you aware of any heretical books that may be in your possession... or do you know of anyone who would teach your son such things?"
Something gripped tightly inside Yusef's chest. This was definitely worse than he had feared. Up till now he had assumed the boy had made some minor offense like goofing off or talking when he was supposed to be listening. But heresy... Or at least what was called heresy in the eyes of the law...
He had always been very careful to explain to the boy just how dangerous it was to talk about the truth. It had seemed rash at the time, but he had told Umar more than a dozen times about what they had done to the boy's mother. Every painstaking detail. But children... Children aren't the greatest at keeping secrets. At lying. The gripping feeling in Yusef's chest turned to one of anger. He'd never wanted to turn his child into a liar. Pride swelled around the growing anger. His son was not a liar. Could never be one.
Yusef cleared his throat. "I-I'm not aware of anything like that, no."
Bradley stood up and leaned hands down against the desk then, eyes drilling into Yusef's. "Mr. Tahir, these things don't just come from nowhere. Children do not invent words of heresy, they learn them. Have you been teaching your son from the Quran?"
There it was... flat out in the open. Now was the time to either speak up or deny his faith. Yusef had been lucky enough to not have anyone question him so frankly before. It was such questioning that had gotten his beloved Safiyah killed.
Sure he had been warned. Practice heresy and you will follow your wife's lead. But never had anyone asked him point blank if he too was a follower of Mohammed. If he had prayed with his wife. If he believed in any other god than the mighty Joseph Caesar.
Before Yusef could speak, a shallow sound caught his attention from behind. He turned to see the missing piece of the puzzle that had been hidden from him. In the corner lying in a heap, Umar sobbed quietly, his body curled up in a fetal position. On the cold linoleum floor.
Yusef turned and went to his son. Leaning in close he could see the purple bruises on the boy's face and across his arms. The pastor's question had beaten down Yusef's anger into something small and alone. Something frightened and weak. But the sight of purple welts on Umar's skin transformed the tiny fragile flame in Yusef's heart and it exploded into pure rage.
"What have you done to my child?"
Pastor Bradley's eyes twitched for a short second as if he had a moment's doubt in his actions and then his face stiffened. "I did as any good servant of Caesar's would have done in the face of such blasphemy!"
Yusef's hands shook before him, his every muscle ached with rigid fury. His stomach turned inward as the last moments of Safiyah's life flashed before his eyes. The soldiers...grabbing her. Her blood-curdling scream reaching out and then silenced by the blast of a handgun. Blood and brains sprayed out onto the pale crème-colored front door. A sort of blindness overtook him as he straightened up and turned to face Pastor Bradley. Not a blindness of sight but a blindness of consequences.
A blindness of conscience.
It must have been the look in his eyes at that moment, but Pastor Bradley's smug expression melted into one of terror. He looked at the door then back at Yusef. Then, without warning, he circled around his desk and sprinted for the door. Yusef ran. Faster than he'd ever ran in his life, he soared, jumped and toppled Bradley, landing on top of the man's turned and crumpled body.
Yusef's fists were coming down then like someone else controlled them. Like his mind was trapped in some faraway place where he could only watch through some blurry television screen as someone else used his body, used his fists to desecrate another man's face.
When his arms could punch no more, they fell at his sides and the bloody pulp that was still sort of Pastor Bradley's face shook. Looking down at the blood on his hands, Yusef panicked. He looked over at Umar, still crumpled in a heap and half conscious. Had his boy seen the thing that he had just done? Alah help him if he had.
Yusef wiped his hands on Pastor Bradley's white button-up shirt and began to sob. He had never done such a thing in all his life. He had never wanted to hurt anyone. Never. Not in all his life. He had never wanted to watch his wife's head erupt and...
They would come for him. For both of them. They would do to his son what they had done to her...
Yusef let out one long moan as he got to his feet and stumbled over to his son. Oh Umar... Before he could think of anything else, he did the only thing that seemed logical at that point. He picked up little Umar in his arms and without a passing glance at the man who had beaten his precious innocent son, he snuck out of the room, closed the door behind him and ran through the halls.
When he came out
into the main room, his movements disturbed a few members of the congregation who turned to watch him as he came race walking as silently as he could toward the main doors. But there must have been blood still on his hands or on his clothes because they didn't just watch. A woman, tall and lanky, with brown eyes and a face draped in too much makeup screamed.
And just as quickly as her voice echoed off of the ceiling, two imperial guards appeared in the main doors, the same two who had let him in. "Sir, please put the boy down and let's talk..." one of the guards said.
Yusef shook his head and turned to run the other way and the guards rushed over to stop him. Everything happened so fast, Yusef could hardly believe it was real. He turned again and ran for the opening the two men had left behind. In an instant he was out the door and jumping past the concrete steps, landing hard and painfully on the sidewalk and running, running, running.
The men shouted something at him he couldn't make out. He just kept running and running. Shots rang out behind him as he ran and so he ran faster, heart beating through every vein in his body. Something cramped in his lower leg and he nearly fell forward but somehow... whether it was the frail body in his arms or the brutal last memory of his wife, Yusef kept running. His right leg now stumbling to keep up with his left.
In the parking lot, the glass of a nearby sedan's back window blew out in a wide spray of shattered glass and Yusef ducked down low between the parked vehicles, cradling little Umar close to his belly as he duck-walked with bent knees.
His car came into view, silver and inviting. Just two more cars to go... The sounds of urgent footsteps coming closer sent the world spinning as he tried to sift through his pocket and find his keys.
Another loud explosion and then a high-pitched ping as a bullet bounced off the door of the car just before his. His keychain fell on to the pavement and he dropped down to his side, one arm still holding Umar against him and rolled over so the boy was beneath his body and, with his other hand, he felt around for the keys.
Sirens rang out then. They must have found Pastor Bradley. Yusef was near to tears then when his pinky brushed against something cold tiny and metallic. He hooked it around the keychain and grabbed hold of it.
A scream erupted from somewhere far away and the gunshots stopped for a moment, then voices struggled and Yusef took his chance. Running around the back of the next car, he came around to the back door of his sedan. Someone was screaming something at the guards and in their mad panic none of what they were saying was clear enough to be heard. The guards attempted to calm the woman, but her screams only grew in pitch when she saw Yusef putting Umar's little body into his car.
Yusef was sure it was the last thing he would do. The guards however, didn't take the cue and instead became angry. One of them put a hand over the woman's mouth while the other swung his rifle at the back of her legs.
It hurt to watch them do something so horrible to someone but Yusef had no choice but to do whatever it would take to save his boy. He ran around quickly and got in the driver side. When he started the engine the men turned around and more gunshots rang out. In seconds he was speeding backwards from the parking spot, shifting into drive, and blasting his way out the other end of the lot.
Chapter 27
The Melting City
It had been hours since Jonny started sorting out his plan. But those hours had gone by like lightning. He was sure it would be one of the hardest things he'd ever done before, probably one of the hardest he'd ever do in his life. If it lasted all that long. The man standing guard today was older than the others. His name was Tom. He had a weathered face and his voice had an aged grit to it. Jonny had grown to like the man from the tiny scraps of conversation they had shared. But it was time. He knew this was his only chance. And so he had to take it.
And yet his nerves never stopped pulling at him like the strings of some goddamn puppet master. Even his fingers were shaking as he tried to make a fist. Tom was leaning against the cave wall, head nodding downward into unconsciousness.
Jonny rose to his feet gently, trying to be silent. He'd never been very good at being quiet. Always the noisy one. That had been his legacy back home. But now he was so far away from home and Julie was all alone and he had to find a way to save her.
A light snore snuck up from Tom and Jonny took his cue. He snuck forward toward the older man. He swallowed as he put his arm around the front of Tom's neck. In a movement more swift than Jonny realized he was capable of he pulled back on Tom's neck and squeezed as hard as he could.
Tom sprang up, fighting tooth and nail against Jonny's arm, trying to free his wind pipe.
"Good, good, Mr. Cross. Very good."
Tears ran down Jonny's face as Tom's body went limp in his arms. He set the man down against the cave floor as quietly as he could and took the rifle slung around his shoulder. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he knelt down and began sifting through Tom's pockets. He found a modest keychain that included a big black Chevy key and took it. Then he pulled the rifle strap over his shoulder and made for the main hall of the cave.
The room was silent as the dead. The dead he'd left behind and the dead that in the dark hours rose again, night after night. The rest of the Hive seemed to be just as empty as Jonny made his way for the entrance. The sun stung his eyes as soon as he walked out into the open air. It took a good long while before he could manage to move any further, the glow of darkness still enrapturing his eyesight.
As soon as his vision was back to some semblance of normal, Jonny went running through the swamps beneath the trees, heading for higher ground. It didn't take long before he stepped out onto more solid earth. A big black Chevy truck sat in the distance waiting for him. Tom's, no less.
Jonny asked Mother Mary for forgiveness before running on ahead and climbing into the truck. Hank had said he would know when it was time, but he hadn't been very clear about what to expect. On purpose of course, but Jonny couldn't help but worry that what he had just done was all for naught. He'd taken a man's life. By force.
He couldn't help it any longer. Jonny opened the driver side door and heaved over the side of the truck onto the ground below. The Emperor's laughter filled his ears as he coughed up the last bits of sick from the back of his throat. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to be anywhere else. Nothing more except for one thing. One wish.
Julie... He gulped back the sob fighting to erupt from within him and let it burn into his chest and then slammed the door shut. The truck started with the roar of a beast crying out to be unleashed. He pushed down on the gas and it roared some more. He let the bitterness in his stomach build up some more and then put the truck in reverse and hit the gas.
The truck chugged backward, bumping and shaking. He shifted it into drive and set the beast loose. It rolled forward like an earthquake, flattening everything in its path with ease and making its own road along the way. This plan better fucking work, Hank. It has to...
***
The rev of the truck engine was Simon's cue to act. The daylight would be uncomfortable, even this deep in the Hive, but it had been the only way. Tom had done more than his share to help both the cause and the Queen and her children. Shielding his eyes from the terrible glow of UV rays coming through the cave walls, Simon stumbled his way into the cavern where Jonny had been kept. He put his hands over Tom's chest and took a deep breath. The familiar glow of power burst out and sent shivers of energy through Tom's body.
Tom’s eyes shot open and he flung upward, gasping for air.
***
It had taken a long scalding shower to pull it off, but Hank eventually shed the queasiness and constant urge to slap at his skin where the occasional random itch happened upon him. None of the bugs had actually touched him, but he'd been close enough on a number of occasions to get that special jump-at-anything creepy crawly kind of jitters.
He told himself that he'd have rather faced as many vampires in that hall though he knew that was far from true. The safe house
bunker was a lot like the others he'd stayed in in various cities across the nation. Close quarters, multiple bunks per room, and plenty of firepower. The only difference was now that the war was so active, this particular safe house just happened to be completely vacant save for himself.
He sat watching a tiny dusty old television, loading one of the many assault rifles. He'd taken one down to have on hand just in case. It didn't really make him feel any safer, but he knew his abilities couldn't protect him from everything. And now that he carried the best chance of taking out the Emperor in his own veins, the responsibility of keeping himself alive had become a very real and palpable thing.
Watching the television didn't do anything to ease his anxieties. On one hand, he knew it was extremely unlikely that much of any news reported was completely true. On the other, nothing positive for his cause would get reported true or not.
He turned off the TV set and leaned back in his chair, letting his worries wash over him all at once. There had never been any better cure for stress quite like more stress. Because no stress was not an option when you were responsible for so many lives.
Hank took a deep breath. It was all procrastination anyway. He knew why he was here and what he had come to do. Beyond just being bait for the Emperor through Jonny. He'd known he would have a lot of time to kill while the kid worked to catch up to him.
It had been months since Hank let his mind dip into the dark pool of his visions. It was likely what he saw would be no more reliable than the information he had gathered from the news, but he still had to try. Every upper hand he could get was worth taking at this point. Having a venom in your blood that can kill someone isn't enough to get the job done. You have to make it to their doorstep first.
Hank closed his eyes and let his head fall back in complete relaxation. At first the myriad of thoughts swimming around in his brain all fought together to keep him from being focused enough, but eventually he was able to tune them all out.
Rising From Ashes: Empire of Blood Book Three (A Dystopian Vampire Novel) Page 15