The OL issue clothing is of better quality than any Sterling has ever owned, and looks as though it will be more comfortable as well. He wipes the OL issue shiv clean on the metal man’s shirt, sheaths it, and drops it on the clothes pile.
‘Let’s go,’ he says to Halo, who still stands silently against the wall. ‘I need to get to my family.’ They enter the other room to find the Forehead Driller face down on the floor, her head almost severed from her body and the floor around her awash in blood. ‘Besides, there’s nothing here but dead people.’
***
Driving through the midnight mog, Sterling recites the prayer for mercy that he hasn’t had recourse to in ages. As it comes to him, he realizes how long it has been – five years. ‘The way of the Stayed is frayed. Pardon those who lose the way, pardon those who don’t awake, pardon those who sin with spite, pardon those who sin through might. Pardon those seek to dine on everything that is a lie. Oh, Goddess of the Stayed, spread your wings and coverings over the fruits of my mistakes. A life well lived is on one’s knees; grant me strength and clemency.’
I already have.
‘Old habit,’ he mumbles.
A good habit, however. It’s good to ask forgiveness.
‘I don’t even know who to ask any longer.’
Don’t you?
He speeds up, and drives almost entirely by instinct. It’s dark as only night in the Canyon can be, and the oppressive silence preys upon him. He tries not to worry about what he’s likely to find at home; it’s best not to borrow trouble until you know for sure. The professional grade clubbing stick slung across his back and his own shiv in its usual place in his boot lend him a comforting sense of power and security, although he knows that it ain’t necessarily so. Overconfidence kills more fools than does lack of skill – he’s aware of this, but still, even spurious security goes a long way in the life of the Stayed.
I’ve never seen you like this.
‘You hardly know me,’ he calls over the hum of the engine.
There is more to you than is at first apparent.
‘Same with most people. Can you tell me what’s happened at my home? We’re not too far away… ’
She hesitates. I cannot.
‘Why not? You seem to be able to sense and control things from a pretty good distance.’
Halo is quiet for a moment. Sterling prays again, as if that will do any good. He’s suddenly thirsty, and afraid to discover what lies ahead, ready to be done with all this. Life of the Stayed is fraught with stress and disappointment; one never knows if tomorrow is worth waking up for. The future is a shiv pressing into the heart of the past.
‘Tell me, dammit, I know that you know.’
The OL Officer spoke the truth; your sister fled; your mother is at your home.
‘I know what he said, but are they… is she okay?’
Both are not as they were.
‘What does that even mean, Oracle of the South? Straight answer – just fucking tell me what the fuck is going on!’
Your mother is dead and your sister…
‘Dead?’ Sterling blinks rapidly, tries to suppress what he’s just heard. ‘What about Beige? What… what happened to her? Tell me, dammit!’
She’s alive, but not well.
‘What happened?’ Sterling tenses up, releases the pressure with a grunt. ‘Dammit, Halo, tell me what happened!’
Hurry, please.
***
Sterling screeches to a halt in front of his home.
He leaps off the motocart, presses his Leaks to his forehead and calls his sister’s name as he bursts through the door. His mother’s body is sprawled on the floor; her skin deathly pale. He goes to his knees and feels for the pulse he already knows won’t be there. Her head is misshapen and asymmetrical from a crushing blow; her rapture necklace has been stripped from her body and tossed to the other side of the room.
‘Oh, no, no, no… ’ he sobs, as he pulls her to his chest, smooths her hair and stares down at her. ‘You were so close… so close to being Raptured… ’ Sorrow and guilt roll over him in waves. ‘This is all my fault, all my fault… I’m so sorry, I’m… I shouldn’t have… Mom!’
I can help her.
Sterling turns to find Halo standing at the door, her wrappings gently moving in the slight breeze that has picked up outside. She has a bag over her shoulder, the same one Rocklick filled with R Boxes earlier. The OL Officer’s uniform is in there as well; he’d forgotten all about them in his haste to get home. It’s the first time he’s ever seen her lift a finger to help.
‘Please, then – help her, please.’
She enters, sweeps some of her wrappings aside, and sits cross-legged on the floor. Sterling awkwardly sets his mother’s stiffened form down and rests her head in Halo’s lap.
It isn’t too late to help her…
‘Will she be deathborn again? Will she?’
No. I can help her.
Halo cradles his mother’s head in her lap, then reaches up and strips off her blinders.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks as he backs away from her.
Halo opens her eyes.
.4.
One blue, one green, Halo’s eyes pierce everything. They are sickly and unearthly; white and waxy, powerful and horrifying; they lock onto Sterling and he feels her see him.
Halo keeps them wide open as she traces her fingers across the bridge of his mother’s nose. She places three fingers on his mother’s forehead, casts them vertically, presses into the center of her forehead. Lifting her hand, she does the gesture again, this time horizontally.
Go find your sister. She isn’t far
Sterling stands and swallows hard as he stumbles to the door. He rights himself outside the home, sucks in a large breath of dust-laden air, which does little to calm him.
‘Where is she?’ he demands. ‘Where?’
You know where.
He takes a step towards the clearing that separates his house from the neighbors, walks towards Bolt and Lily’s grave, fearful of what he’ll find. The muffled sounds of pain and distress lead him to his sister’s huddled form.
He crouches, and whispers, ‘Beige?’
‘Sterling?’
‘Beige! I’m here! I’m here!’ He runs towards the sound of her voice.
‘Sterling!’ His sister cries out. Dipping to his haunches, he scoops her into his arms, ignores the pain in his back as he lifts her, and carries her back to their home. Inside, in the light, he can see that she’s sticky with blood. Panic tries to gain a foothold, and he fights it back down.
‘Beige, you’re bleeding – where are you hurt?’
‘He did it… he… he… and Mom!’ she wails. ‘Mom’s… I couldn’t save her, I tried, but he just killed her first. I ran… and… he caught me!’
‘Who? What did he do? WHO!?’
‘He… the OL Officer – he did.’
‘What did he do? Where are you hurt? I’m so sorry! This is my fault, this is… ’
‘My purity is gone. I am… ’ She sobs, sniffs loudly, cries harder.
‘But all the blood?’
‘That’s his. I did what you told me to do, I… shivved him.’
A vast and terrible coldness fills him. He grieves for his mother and aches for what his sister’s endured; he is deathly ashamed of what he’s brought down on his loved ones, but there is no anger, no fury, just grim and overwhelming certainty – his family will have retribution, and he will be its agent.
‘Is he still here? Do you know where he is?’
‘Back out there somewhere. Past the mound, I think, to the right. I cut him and crawled away.’
‘What’s wrong with your legs?’ he asked, stopping directly in front of his door.
‘I think they’re fine, I was just… I didn’t want my purity to rip anymore. Maybe if I just don’t move my legs… ’ she chokes back a sob. ‘Maybe it will heal up if I don’t move my legs for a while.’
‘Mom is… ’ he
chokes.
‘I know she is,’ Beige says. ‘I saw it happen.’
***
Beige suddenly notices Halo, who sits with their mother’s head in her lap. ‘What’s she doing here?’ she hisses.
‘Dammit, I told you the truth, Beige, she’s the Southern Goddess and she’s trying to help. Don’t give me shit about this right now!’
It’s true, I am.
Beige looks from Sterling to Halo again. ‘Who said… ?’
‘You heard it, didn’t you?’ he whispers.
‘She… speaks without talking?’
He nods.
‘Inside your head?
‘Unfortunately.’ Sterling sets his sister onto a divan. She keeps her legs pressed together, still hoping to hold together the remnants of her purity.
I can ‘speak’ in both your heads, as you put it. Unfortunately?
‘What? You think it’s nice having someone whisper between your ears all the damn time?’ he shoots back.
Beige drops her head into her hands, starts crying. ‘What’s going on here? I don’t understand… I… ’
‘Look, just sit tight,’ he tells her, again heading for the door. ‘I’m going to find the man that did this to you. Halo, don’t let her move her legs. She’s trying to keep her purity intact.’
She was raped. Her purity, as she puts it, is gone forever.
Sterling glances to his sister – she doesn’t appear to have heard Halo’s last statement.
‘Just keep her here until I return, got it?’ He stops in front of the door and turns back to his sister. ‘Where’s your shiv?’
‘I left it back there, after I cut him.’
‘Is it still in him?’
She wipes tears from her face, sniffs. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I’ll find it. You wait here and when I get back… we will figure all this out.’
Sterling unslings the OL issue clubbing stick and heads towards the mound. He regulates his breathing, and steps calmly, carefully. He should be incandescent with rage, but there is nothing other than the cold and calculating certainty that those responsible will pay. The Book says that Personal vendettas are for the weak and that it is better to manage revenge publicly, administered by those chosen to uphold the law. Third party justice is best for the Stayed, for those who hope to free themselves from being deathborn – Sterling had to memorize this line in Reeducation.
But there are two sides to a good shiv, and it’s just like the Book to have two contradictory passages: To give death in the form of justice brings one closer to the Goddess, to facelessness. When delivering justice, cast aside your doubt. For the Stayed and those to be liberated, pour your heart into your fists.
Sterling wonders how the passage must read in the South, casts the thought away as something foul reaches his nostrils.
‘There you are… ’He smells the OL Officer before he sees him; the air is heavy with the odor of open bowels and spilled blood. The man gurgles and wheezes, softly weeps. He’s on his side, knees drawn up, and has wrapped his arms around his ruined abdomen to hold his guts inside as best he can, but he’s steadily losing ground as he grows weaker. He may have taken Beige’s purity, but she has taken his life.
The man doesn’t have long left; Sterling is glad he’s found him in time.
Sterling spots the glint of his sister’s shiv. He knows that it’s small, but sharp enough to take the hide off a rat.
‘Found you.’
‘Wh-what?’ The man grimaces as he rolls over to see who’s spoken. ‘The bitch cut me… and… it’s bad. ’ He coughs, spits blood. ‘Get me to the OL, NOW! That’s an order!’
Sterling smiles, says ‘Here, let me help you’, and re-slings the clubbing stick. In one swift motion, he rolls the OL Officer onto his stomach. He straddles the man’s back, whispers in his ear, ‘This might sting a bit,’ and grabs a fistful of hair.
Beige’s knife slides through the soft tissue and goes right to the bone as Sterling slices across the forehead. The OL Officer writhes and shrieks into the dirt as Sterling continues the cut all the way the around the crown of the head. He presses his knee into the man’s neck and works the blade up under the initial incision in a series of shallow slicing cuts. Blood spurts from the wound; the Officer’s face is a bloody mask of fear and pain. Sterling continues until he’s raised a flap that he can get a grip on.
He pauses, wipes his hands and his sister’s knife on the man’s shirt.
The man shrieks and roars himself hoarse; bucks and twists and squirms, as Sterling, with a series of sharp, jerking tugs, rips the man’s scalp from his skull. He briefly contemplates his still-dripping trophy, and then rolls the OL Officer onto his back.
Two unblinking eyes stare up at Sterling from a horrible, bloody caricature of a face. As he wheezes, what’s left of the man’s features loosen and slide out of position. The scalp is sticky and slippery, but Sterling rolls it up as best he can and with a sudden, savage motion, jams it into the OL Officer’s mouth and holds it in place, even as the man gags and vomits around it.
He holds on even after the man ceases to spasm and twitch; at last he relaxes and lets go. He rolls his head on his neck, flexes and relaxes his fingers, and then rips the Officer’s OL issue shirt open to expose the chest of the newly corpsified man.
With Beige’s shiv, he manages to carve Z-A-N into the still warm flesh before nausea seizes him and he collapses next to his act of vengeance. He is wracked with dreadful, debilitating dry heaves long after he’s brought up what little he had in his stomach, and it is some little time before he can haul himself to his feet and stagger back to his home.
***
‘You’re back… ’ His sister shivers as he soon as he walks in. ‘We heard the screaming; it was awful. Did you…?’
‘I did,’ he sighs. Weariness radiates off him in waves, and he’s not ready to make eye contact with anyone.
She’s as bloody as he is now, but she still flinches when she sees it on him.
‘Here’s your shiv; you are going to need it.’ He hands it to her handle first. She reaches out for it, keeps her head down as he moves past.
He looks over to Halo, who is now meditating in front of their mother’s body. She’s put her blinders back on, hiding her beautifully flawed eyes from Sterling’s sister.
‘What am I supposed to do?’ Beige places the blade on the table, touches her thighs.
‘You’d better clean your shiv first or it’ll rust; then you’re coming with me, with us. You can’t stay here.’
‘What did you do to him?’
Sterling sighs again, doesn’t answer, just looks at her. She meets his gaze, but breaks eye contact first and asks, ‘Where are we going then?’
‘Halo?’
The Off Limits. From there, we are going somewhere completely different.
Beige asks, ‘What do you mean different?’
Not the same as here; unlike what you’re used to; unfamiliar; outside the scope of your experience – different.
Sterling turns to Halo, stares into the blinders that cover her eyes. He can feel her eyes on him, warming his skin like an afternoon sun. ‘I need to settle my debt with Zander before we go wherever it is we’re going.’
I will ensure that he is paid in full.
‘No, you won’t; that’s not for you to do,’ he says firmly. ‘I will. This man has shit on my life for far too long.’ He gives Halo a moment to respond and when she doesn’t he says, ‘I’m dead serious here, Goddess, if you want my help, you’ll not stand in my way on this.’
‘Did you hear the alarms when you were driving here?’ his sister asks suddenly. ‘They were ringing and ringing at the Off Limits.’
‘No… What’s happening, Halo?’
The Off Limits is open.
Sterling’s gasps. ‘Open? What… what the fuck do you mean?’
It’s open. Our disruption worked. All the entry points including the main gate are now open.
‘You didn�
�t say that it was going to do that!’
‘Disruption?’ Beige asks.
Sterling shakes his head, again peeved at that fact that he’s nothing more than an ill-informed player in Halo’s game. ‘I’ll explain later,’ he mumbles as he turns to the front door.
‘Where are you going?’ his sister calls after him.
‘To bury our mother. Please do what you can for her to get her ready while I make a place for her.’
‘I can’t stand.’
‘Yes, you can.’ He gives her a grim look. ‘Trust me, I know.’
She gingerly gets to her feet and winces for his benefit, but avoids meeting his eyes.
‘I don’t care if you are pure or not, Beige. You are my flesh and blood and together, we are going to make things right. And you… ’ He points an angry finger at Halo. ‘You’d better stop lying to me. If we’re going to do whatever it is we’re going to do, you need to be honest with me.’
Very well; I understand.
‘Now be straight with us, or Beige and I ride out of here and you’re on your own.’
I understand.
‘Good.’ Sterling retrieves his mother’s rapture necklace and carefully pockets it. He stands in the doorway for a moment, head down and shoulders slumped before he shakes it off, steps out and grabs the shovel and pick-mattock from where he’d left them after he’d buried Bolt the previous morning.
HUNTER
.1.
Horizon blip of light, line of sight. Dine on those who take time by the hand and unman. Land like skin the Stayed dim only to begin again the day anew the Canyon fresh stink pink. Life of the reeked, of the weak, bleak, meek.
(Your thoughts are drops of ink in a bottomless sink connected to a drain pissing on your brain.)
That voice.
‘Goddess?’
I am here, Hunter.
--Hunter return home!
In the cave the light the walls are etched in fright. Ghosts of the past ripple by with sharpened clubbing sticks used to carve their names. The flames of the present immolate my psyche; the benefits of the Devout are known throughout, but the remorse I feel makes my thoughts exposed flesh fresh.
The Zero Patient Trilogy (Book Two): (A Dystopian Science Fiction Series) Page 8