by Ted L C
“The other ones, they’ve managed to keep a low profile. Also, the few I don’t know about, they’re out there, but no one knows their names. They go by the codenamed, Bei Chao-xian and Zap.
“However, this situation at hand terrifies me. Because now Liam has Daisy. Thus, he can replicate her blood cells and create an army of beings that can reincarnate upon death. This would make him invincible compared to most militaries—”
Alyssa bops a finger against the screen of her phone. A hologram of the duo’s faces appears. Underneath them, her stare glues to the words ‘Wanted: 5 Reiv Reward’. As her nail drags across the screen, her gaze further darkens.
“Derek,” her ringer bursts into a swarm of NanoLites. “One of the people I took out was a chief known around the world for his heroic actions of offing a Zeresh clone. He also risked his life to save seven children from a drug dealer’s home.
“I am sorry, Derek.”
“So we can’t show our faces anywhere on Earth now?” Derek’s calves collapse. His body heaves itself at a pillow of leather.
“Unless we clone ourselves,” Alyssa lays a knee on the ground while facing the boy. “Every cloning facility would turn us in before making a clone of us.”
“What if we threaten them to clone us?”
“Afterward, they would squeal. Furthermore, they would steal our D.N.A. and turn the clones against us. Derek, what I did was wrong. There is a time and place for intimidation tactics. There is also a time and place for taking out those who stand in your way.
“However, this was not the right time. I am sorry, I haven’t slept in a few days. My performance has been suffering.”
“Even though you completely screwed me over. Though I can never be a hero, which happened to be my only dream. Never see any of my family and friends, and not be able to show my face in public. I forgive you.
“Forgiveness and thinking up a solution is all we can do now. Even though now I’ve become what I swore to destroy.”
“Thank you, Derek,” the scent of grapes burns the innards of Alyssa’s nostrils. “This is an inappropriate time, but will you go shower? Smelling like you bathed in wine won’t help our cause once Liam returns.”
* * *
The duo approaches Liam, who presses a mug against his lips. The aroma of Matcha treks throughout the office’s glass walls interior.
“Yes?” a saucer appears over the man’s palm. It ejaculates a clump of capsules. He hurls them into his mouth and swallows. “May I help you with anything?”
“Do you have any idea of what we could do about the situation at hand?” Alyssa spreads both legs shoulder-width apart. Both arms cross while pressing them into her back.
“I believe you are referring to your primeval slaughter of two heroes,” Liam says. “A sub-tier of Reivscere is working on it, at the moment.
“Lass, the boy mentioned something to me. That you lack sleep and require sensory deprivation chambers. I have a private one available if you would like to get some rest. It will also soak away some of the Speyer in your system.”
A ding emits from her phone. “Received the coordinates on my ringer to the pod. I will retire now, thank you, sir.”
“Liam, sir,” Derek’s gaze glues to Alyssa’s hips as they swivel. “Who is the Warden?”
“Cofounder of the Seven Angels of the Afterlife,” a hologram of a library materializes over his desk. “S.A.A, the only HESTEKS with the symptom to resurrect the dead. He is one of the most fascinating characters I’ve lied eyes on.
“Do you have an hour to invest in some hidden knowledge?”
“Yeah, I do,” Derek’s gaze drifts throughout the pixelated world. “Aren’t you busy?”
“Aside from the incident with Daisy, today is my dedicated day of rest, lad,” he waves a palm over the holographic images.
“Be sure to pay attention.”
The pixels reorganize themselves, forming a sand biome. A girl with onyx hair parades along-side a boy as they make their way across an empty path.
* * *
Catalyst
LOADING…
FILE: FOUND!
Metadata:
Memory of: HAMAL, AJIR
Encrypted: NO
Date: 957 A.D.
HOLO-FLICK STARTING—
Upon each step, their bare soles peel against blistering, cracked pieces of sandstone.
The sun lacerates the mahogany arms of the boy as his eyes drift toward the mountaintops.
Warm gales soar through the dunes surrounding the two. Fragrances of yeast and putrid meat circulate through their nostrils’.
The girl clasps skeletal hands against the boy’s arm and digs her forehead into it.
“I am nervous brother,” the girl murmurs using a Tswana tongue. “Mother has never sent us to the bazaar without an adult escort, before.”
“Mother is ill and needs us to buy her herbs,” brother rests his palm against her ebony locks. “Do not fear sister, I will protect you.”
The two trudge toward a cluster of huts.
Arbors of bloomed spring flowers shrivel as the sister waves her fingers at them.
They find their lines of sight shrouded by towering bodies shoving one another.
He peeks at his soles. Bruises and dust mixed with specs of brown crust line the calloused skin.
They make their way through the mosh pit of men and women.
His gaze moves to a booth and a figure shouting at a woman surrounded by a collection of jewels. The person flips the table.
The boy’s gaze follows the glimmering gems as they bombard the tan powder.
“No—” the girl tugs against his arm. “Please. I do not want to be punished again.”
The two continue through the village. Both sets of eyes scan the sand surrounding them.
A man decapitating fish and flinging them into a bucket lined with crimson fluid appears. His glare shifts toward the sister with his right eyebrow raised. The character pauses while the blade holds itself within the air. He goes back to his beheadings.
A shiver vibrates throughout the girl’s body as another head sinks into the pail.
The boy rams his shoulders against the multitudes swarming the crowd before him. His other hand remains glued to his sister’s.
They make their way toward an alley. A man exhales a thick cloud of pineapple scented smoke into the boy’s face. The exhaust runs into the brother’s nostrils and vents through his throat.
* * *
“Aid me!” the Tswana voice of an elder woman echoes. “This man is taking my precious herbs and gold.”
Sister heaves herself into the mosh pit.
Thoughts of people transforming into Ndebele dolls surge through her mind. Sister’s mahogany arms brush theirs.
The brother rotates his head. Ragdolls, once human beings, drop face-first into the dust. His legs push him forward as his eyes drift toward the path facing the duo.
The two find nothing except for people shopping for useless, flesh-bound trinkets.
The boy’s gaze magnetizes to a hazel cloak. It dashes in their direction. Sister presents her palm upward. As she falls, the figure’s bare chest presses against her lank appendages.
The shrouded person’s abdomen transforms into an ashen hue. The unknown being drops to the ground like a boulder. The boy tears the sack from its hand and pries it open. His fingers press against ten pieces of gold, a few leaves of mint, and a handful of shredded rosemary.
Placing the bag into his sister’s grip, he plants a palm upon the thief’s heart. Immobile as a stone.
A thought streams within the brother’s mind of the man plowing through hordes of denizens.
The person’s appendages twitch—a symphony of thumps emits from their chests. Its eyelids shift in opposite directions.
“What happened to me?” the man’s deepened voice sends rings through the siblings’ ears.
“I-I know not—” the boy’s eyes gaze at his palm.
“Keep the h
erbs and gold—” the stranger’s legs hurl their body upward. “I want not to see the red light again!”
“What did you do to those corpses?” the boy clasps fingers against the sister’s. “Why were people dropping to the sand whenever you came in contact with them?
How did that man rise from the dead when I touched him? He was dead at first—”
“When I was a baby, mother spoke of stories with gods who used man’s bodies as vessels. Do you remember the story about the Greek king, the Egyptian pharaoh, and the pharaoh’s sister?”
“Yes, but it can not be possible—we are not worthy of being any god’s vessel. Let the stories stay myths; eventually, we will find out what is wrong with us.”
“I wish you would listen to me—age does not show wisdom, the train of thought one has does.”
“Those are my herbs and gold pieces!” A voice travels from the distance.
They follow the noise to find a woman with pallid, frizzed hair. Her fingers grip against the hilt of a jagged bronze dagger.
“This belongs to you,” the brother clamps the mouth of the bag, aiming it at women. “We have frightened the thief who stole your goods.”
The woman tears the pouch from his sister. Her gaze locks itself to the sister’s neon green eyes.
“I see death within your eyes,” she shifts shriveling pupils toward the boy. “And I see life in your eyes. You are going to go far, my child. Unlike your sister, who I foresee eternal death. You must be stopped, Ajanda.”
Sister’s eyes transform into a crimson hue as she makes her way to the herbalist.
The estranged woman discards her rags draping. Ebony wrinkles lining the figure shift swivel. As they vibrate, sections of the body mutate into tawny brown fur.
As the skin and bone encasing her face mold into the face of a lioness, a roar emits from its razor-like maw.
Screams reverberate throughout the colony as the giant cat leaps at the sister—
An elephant-sized hand constructed from ice slams against the beast’s side. Propelling the massive feline into the mixture of sand and snow.
A snowflake falls. Tapping the tip of the sister’s nose, it turns to liquid.
“What is this stuff, brother—” a frigid gust carrying a wave of snow sweeps through the village.
“Look!” the brother’s finger aims east.
Through the flurry, a two-story-high humanoid made of ice trudges through slush. For every step it takes a quake pulses through the cluster of huts.
As the boy’s mouth opens, an ear-piercing scream travels through the arena. A colossal geyser of jade vapor erupts. The titan transforms into a massive black bear. It faces our way and roars. Saliva rains upon the multitudes.
Many sets of footsteps echo from behind the two.
A man wearing a glistening golden breastplate comes to sight. Six men and four women follow him.
An overwhelming aroma of body odor emanates from their ragged clothing.
“Why did Achilles send in the ice titan?” the first figure speaks with a grafting Greek tongue. He faces a gauntlet made from gold toward the bear. “That witch transformed it into a bear!”
“Children, return to your homes at once!” the armored man says in English. “You should not be in the middle of this battle.”
“My lord,” a man hauling a sword the length of a truck gazes into the girl’s scarlet eyes. “I suspect the female is a god of the afterlife.”
Her palm appears upon the man’s cheek; his skin fades into an alabaster tinge. The snow catches the man as it collapses.
Ajanda shoves the armor-clad warrior. Legs carry her across ivory powder as fast as the body will let her.
As an ear-piercing melody of screams ejects from the fallen corpse. The snowflakes halt. The brother’s eyeballs freeze as the sister’s body pauses.
Pallid dots sprinkling from the atmosphere return to their normal pace. The girl’s body proceeds to move like an antelope.
“No more death!” the brother mashes a palm into the figure’s polished head.
Life returns to the character’s eyes as his legs pull him upward. “What happened to me?”
“The girl’s touch must have killed you,” an emerald stare beckon to the boy’s palm. “The boy brought you back to life—there is no doubt these two are gods of life and the harvest.”
“Execute the bear!” the man shifts his gaze to the boy. “Young man, I thank you for reviving my soldier. My name is Alexander, son of Avitus, and former king of the empire of Greece. Would you join my guild? We maintain peace among the gods!”
“No thank you,” the young man’s grips his left hand against the right. ‘I need to use these gifts for other purposes. One is to help my mother, who remains ill.
“I wish you all the best of luck on your journey, and I hope to encounter you all in the future.”
A man with short black hair materializes from the wall of wandering snow. A wrinkle bound body of a woman arcs over his shoulder.
“I have the woman who obliterated the village of the west,” he heaves the corpse into the bleached dust.
“Achilles, the witch’s cry transformed your titan of ice into a bear,” Alexander aims a finger at the towering beast.
Achilles shifts his sapphire eyes, facing the monster. He faces a palm at the bear. Snow levitates above the earth. A blade the size of a mountain erupts from the surface, propelling through the bear’s belly.
“Here is enough meat to feed your village for a year,” a grin creeps between Achilles’ dimples.
“Wait!” the boy utters. “My mother is ill. Since you have slain the herbalist, there is no way I can heal her.”
“Fear not child,” the golden hulk passes a vial of red fluid to the boy. “A treasure for bringing our fellow traveler back from the afterlife. Pour this into your mother’s mouth and all of her sicknesses will heal. We must leave now.”
“Thank you—” The group of gods fades into the ivory winds.
* * *
The boys’ eyes glue to a rectangular hole carved into a pile of animal pelts. His feet sink into searing light brown dust.
Making his way into the tent, brother’s fingers pour the vial of red fluid into her between her lips.
Mother is still—did sister already send mother through the afterlife?
The boy rests his right palm upon her forehead. A cluster of twitches dances across the woman’s body as her eyelids pry themselves open.
“How do you feel, mother?”
“I am well,” the mother’s eyes drift across her body. “You did not heal me with the herbs I sent you for—did you? Where is your sister?”
“No—”, he says. “I did not heal you with the herbs you sent us for. I failed to retrieve them—I resorted to magic. Sister also resorted to magic—it drove her mad, sending her into exile.”
“Leave my sight—” a liquid droplet rolls across her cheek. “I will not house children who use witchcraft.”
Vibrating legs drag him through the entrance. They come to a halt as gusts of sand scrape his calves.
Even though mother renounces me, I can now secure myself with the knowledge of her continuing to live.
Air brushes against his ear as the knife flies by his peripherals, nailing itself into the wall.
“Leave, demon!” the woman’s cry sends a shockwave through his spine.
“Mother,” the boy’s hand pries the blade from the animal’s skin. He tucks the weapon’s handle into a pocket within his cloak. “I forgive you for your sins.”
Exiting the tent, brother makes his way toward the sinking sun ahead of him.
* * *
A Thousand Years Later:
“We have to keep moving!” a deepened voice says. “Fuck the grunts—mark them as M.I.A.”
“We cannot leave them behind!” a shard of metal scrapes the side of Ajir’s helmet.
“V.C.s!” a voice drowns the symphony of snaps bouncing between the forestry.
A man to t
he Warden’s right falls to the ground. Crimson droplets splash the man’s carbine. He centers a malnourished face between two rectangular pieces.
Finger drag trigger as flashes fire from the barrels.
“Tunnel rats!” another follows.
“Keep moving!” another character collapses beside the Warden as his feet carry him forward. “Napalm them commies.”
A figure wielding a metallic hose faces the opposing direction. Clouds of orange and yellow erupt from the device.
The voices of Vietnamese tongue echo throughout the forest. The cracking sounds fade.
The roars emitting from the weapon dissipate as the cackles vanish. Warden jerks his chin to the side—only flames and corpses. Eyes scan the olive uniforms.
No bullet wounds—
A cluster of frigid nails grips the Warden’s neck. Ebony arms transform into a pale tone as his body falls toward the edge of a bridge. One his palms against a cheek and the other tugging the hammer of his weapon.
Fingers reverse.
His rifle’s barrel emits a flash as a warm sensation fills his face. The firearm yanks his shoulder backward, shooting stings throughout his arm.
Warden’s eyelids flap as his appendages digs into heaps of mud.
* * *
A tan woman with small streaks of crimson within her onyx hair lies beside him. His gaze transfers to her shredded ebony rags.
He shoves rolls the body to the side. A hole aligning the back of her head beckons his eyes.
“Did I do this?” the cries of birds echo through the arbor of trees surrounding the two.
A sheet of parchment peeks from the opening in the woman’s cloak. The Warden moves the group of words written with Tswana toward his face.
“Agatha, John, Jose, Zepedia, Zeresh—” breaths stop exhausting from his nostrils. “Ajir—in Sekhemet’s sinister name sister; why?”
Bleached flakes brush his nose. An arctic breeze slashes his exposed arms.
* * *
Realm of the Gods
“D-Derek?” Alyssa’s murmur drowns the distant crashing waves. “Are you awake?”