The Masterpiece (The shadow I cast Book 1)

by Chiemeka Nicely

  Looking up at the clouded sky, I wish I am anywhere but here. The air and the scenery has improved, but what the Albino people are doing, in the open room, have me squinting my eyes - not in confusion, but in disbelief. Everywhere I look, the scrawny naked bodies of couples are making the beast with two backs, oblivious to all around them. Never have I felt so sick in my life. The dim red light doesn’t help. I’m convinced this is Earth’s representation of hell; temptation in its most sickening form. Slaves to their uncontrollable desires, as they engage in constant intercourse, bound in matrimony with their evolved savage nature. A couple of times I make eye contact with them and immediately wish I hadn’t. The men, in particular, run their pierced tongue along their sharp teeth and fingers. Disgusting.

  My mood worsens once we exit the room. People are packed in a gladiator stadium cheering and cursing, as two fighters beat each other senseless. By the time I get to the stands, the smaller male with a cleanly shaven head kicks up dirt into his opponent’s face and dislocates his arm. The tactics and moves they are using are familiar but more ruthless and agile. The big guy rushes at his opponent as he snaps his arm back into position. In a swift move, the small guy catches his opponent in a headlock and breaks his neck. They both fall to the ground, and the crowd goes quiet. I guess everyone was expecting the bigger guy to win, which is understandable, but muscle isn’t everything.

  Two soldiers remove the winner and the dead body. A loud horn blows and two people are thrown out onto the battlefield; one muscular guy with bruises that seem to form an extra layer of skin and a meagre brown-skin girl with shoulder-length silver hair. The horn blows again, and they circle each other like wild animals before attacking. The fight lasts longer than I expected and is gruesome. All around the battlefield, there are pools of blood, most of it at its centre. In the end, the muscular guy is the one to fall, yet, another surprise. Obviously, body type won’t always determine strength, but this guy was disturbingly taller and bigger than her. I remember what my father once said ‘it’s not always surprising when the smaller more agile person wins.’

  She holds his head and repeatedly smashes it into the ground, her fingers jammed in his eye sockets. I am unable to stop watching the slaughter before me, even when his skull turned to pulp. She wipes the blood from her hands on his chest and stood bowing before the crowd. As they roared in her triumph, she holds her hands up to the sky bathing in her victory, a cruel smile smeared across her face, along with it her blood. If Dorian Gray had a twin, it would be her. She licks her lips, and I can see the savage in her. I feel her gaze drift to me. Her smile widens, her eyes darkening.

  Am I next?

  She assesses me for a second longer, before looking to the man that matters most amongst the crowd. He still wears his shiny black shoes with his royal attire. Who knew the dead could fit so perfectly into the living? But as I continue to watch him, there’s a ripple in his image, as if there is something he is trying to hide: the real person the crowd marvel at rather than the man I see before me. The true leader and savage of this world. He rises, and so does everyone one after the other bowing in his departure. Except for me. I think, you bow to your kidnapper, and you give him the power to control you. That is not an option. I alone will be in control of my temple.

  Although my mind scrambles to make sense of this deception or reality, I know one thing for sure, I have done what no one else has. Even though I am smacked right in the middle of it all, I still manage to relish in the thought that I will be the first to bring news of their survival…or somewhat partial one. The Sixth Dynasty lives. Joy swells in my heart as I picture the pleased look on my father’s face, as he realises I am worthy of his approval. I am much more than a pretty face with a title as Princess of the First Dynasty. The sly smile on my face doesn’t last long, though. A sack is forcefully shoved over my head. Once again, I’m held captive in the dark.

  When they finally allow me to breathe, I know my situation hasn’t improved. Tamari kicks my knee, and I buckle under his pressure. The chains around my hands scorch the well-polished floor. I repeatedly roll my eyes, grinding my jaw. I may not be bowing to the Prince, but I am for sure at his feet. With increasing boredom, I begin to clock my tongue trying to make as much noise as possible to irritate the Prince. He doesn’t show the slightest bit of emotion, which proves my thought that even the living could still be dead inside. He flashes me a smile meant to warm my heart, as it would other girls. A boyish grin with small dimples not far from his jawline. His blank demeanour can’t be contagious because I don’t feel a flutter in my heart.

  “How did you like the entertainment, Calista?” He asks, carefully pouring some fresh crystallised-brown liquor into his thin glass. He swirls and smells it before taking a sip. His gaze falls to mine with the same darkness I had witnessed in every one of his citizens. Or shall I say, prisoners? So, he knows who I am. With disgust, I look at him from toe to head. If that’s what he calls entertainment, who knows what he calls education - probably an arrow through the heart for every question answered incorrectly. He knows I’m not about to answer and proceeds with his thoughts.

  “I’m sure you have many questions.” Like hell I do. I project my thoughts with a change in my expression that indicates he should have realised much sooner.

  “You haven’t told me what I’m doing here and where I am?” I said, trying to mask my anger.

  “And she speaks…you almost had me worried there,” he says holding his breath for a moment before continuing.

  “You know where we are. Kimarr should ring a bell, after all, it was you who found us and not the other way around.” I scowl. Does he think I’m a fool? There are quite distinct differences between where we are now and Kimarr. For one Kimarr is deserted, has no vegetation and walking zombies.

  “I know this is all very hard to believe, but that’s the way we’ve designed it. Soon enough you will see things the way we intend it. We have big plans for you.”

  “I don’t care. This is a violation of my rights, and I want out. No one should be treated like this, especially me. When my family catches wind of this, they’ll most certainly have your head.”

  “But will they find out, that is the question.” He approaches me sliding his fingers around my jaw. They look smooth but feel gritty. I don’t want to think about how many people he has murdered, with his bare hands. He grips my jaw, squashing my lips together, holding it in position, to meet his gaze.

  “By the time I’m done with you, you’re not going to want to leave.” My mind flickers back to when Tamari noted they had been expecting me. Whatever they want me for, it doesn’t look like they are just getting started. Something tells me what they have planned, begun a long time ago.

  “Don’t judge my chapter by the story you walked in on.”

  5

  The Messenger

  {Dakarai}

  It has been a month since our arrival on Earth. We managed to slip into our roles without arising suspicion. While Khari worked the bar in a nightclub in canary wharf, chatting up the ladies keeping drunkards at bay, I worked alongside my fellow intelligence mates solving deaths and drug crimes. Occasionally, we’d meet up to discuss what information we had found, which wasn’t much. But at times we were left to interact with the Earthlings. Especially one in particular.

  Maliyah.

  She has started to grow on me with her highly persuasive ways. Always telling me to ‘live a little’ as you only live once. ‘YOLO’ they call it; which is expected, as all she knows me to do is work. My life has become very structured. Sleep, eat, exercise and survey the streets. For a young man, it is understandable that she feels I’ve become all work and no play. Although she has become too invested in my life, and in not so many words - a pain in the ass - I still believe she has a point. But I still fail to fathom how she is able to go to work, almost every day, and still find the energy to run her mouth about people’s lives; she cannot begin to understand. This amuses me. In a way she is very simil
ar to Calista, that mouth will forever get them both into trouble.

  This inspires me to get to know her better while keeping her at a safe distance. Every week, she stops by my apartment, hangs out, eat up my food, and watch a few movies when I am available. About a week or two ago she noted how my apartment has an element of secrecy to it. I should have known she would pick up on it and dismissed it with the line ‘I’m a simple man’. She looks at me with disbelief and decides to pry further, asking about family members. I assure her I have a few photos but just haven’t had the time to sort out the visual appearance of my apartment. She offers to help, to which I decline and decide to see her out as it was getting late. She complies to leave but insists that if I ever want to take her up on her offer to ‘hit her up’. Although I had welcomed her into my home, she still has this chilling presence about her, which I feel needs investigating as subtly as she is studying me. But for now, it would have to wait, especially when Khari discovers something peculiar.

  It is a busy night at the nightclub when Khari notices a female in a hoodie approach the bar. What she wears, in a club themed with smart attire, should be a clear sign something is wrong. It is a miracle she got past the bouncers. From her perfectly manicured hands with a gold band ring around one of her fingers, she isn’t homeless. When she removes her hood, revealing her greenish-grey eyes, it is clear she is not like anyone else. She means business, even if she doesn’t dress the part. Khari finishes serving a customer and makes his way over to her.

  “What can I get you beautiful?” he asks with a wide smile, throwing the hand towel over his shoulders. She rubs her hands over her face and huffs.

  “A gin martini please.”

  “Mysterious, I like it. Coming right up.” As he works away at the bar, the young woman scans the club, before resting her eyes on a man standing close by. He raises his glass at her and smiles. The overhead lights reflecting in his eyes makes him look wicked, especially with his cowboy hat tipped. She quickly shifts her gaze. Khari places a glass with a napkin underneath it in front of her. She dips her finger in the drink and swirls the liquid.

  “Thank you, Khari,” she whispers.

  He looks at her with his eyebrows nit together. “Sorry you must have me confused, my name is Tahir.” He removes one hand from the counter and points at his name tag. She shakes her head. He drops his hand to his side and covertly looks left to right. He wriggles his fingers by his side in the motion of riding a bike. The energy rolling off his fingertips signals an emergency signal to me, as well as initiates recording from his silver ring.

  “I need your help; they’re hunting me,” she says, grabbing his arm. Khari glances at the grey mark spreading like a rash on his arm. He swallows the lump in his throat and makes sure his defences are up. There is something about the way her hand flexes around his forearm. Skin to skin. He is cautious of people touching him without warning, but her touch is soft, familiar and urgent.

  She looks at the man still watching her and whispers, “meet me around back in 20.” She releases her grip on Khari, disappearing into the crowd, the man following swiftly behind. A few words are left on the napkin, and the mark on his arm fades.

  When I arrive, Khari sends me the recording. I put my skills to work assessing the energy she should have left behind. To my surprise, I feel nothing. No buzzing feeling ignites my skin, not even the hairs on my neck stand on end. Something is wrong. Everyone has some energy, no matter what species they are unless they are a robot. It’s not impossible. When Khari returns, the grey mark reappears as a coded message. I’ve never seen code like this. I feel his younger sister, Aziza would be handy right now, as the top scholar in Aelburn she can practically break any code. Just give her time and space, and she could give you an answer in minutes or a week at best depending on its complexity.

  When the time comes, we meet her round back. Ferociously, she scratches her skin barely able to keep still. The constant sounds of cars screeching and horns blowing has her on edge. Even when I touch her shoulder, she jumps back like she has been shocked with barbed wire.

  “Great, you’re here Dakarai.” Hope fills her voice. “I’ve only got a few minutes.”

  I overlook her knowledge of my identity and switch to detective mode. “Start with your name and why you’re here?”

  “I’m Sarah, and this company wants me dead.”

  “Why? What company?” Khari asks trying to catch her eyes, as she constantly looks behind her.

  “I’ve got information that can shut this SYSTEM down and get you all out of it, including Calista.”

  The mention of Calista peaks both of our interests. It still comes as a shock that she knows information no Earthling could have guessed.

  “You don’t believe me, I get it, but we aren’t meant to be here. This…” She stops, and her eyes widen. “He’s here.” The streetlight at the end of the alley suddenly bursts.

  “Do you hear that?” I whisper. Amongst the frequent people walking by laughing in the distance and bottles smashing against the ground, there is a cutting sound like the sharpening of a blade mixed with a grinding machine. Sarah frantically looks around her trying to pinpoint the direction in which it comes from.

  “We are out of time.” She breathes. Nothing could have stopped what happens next. All we could do was stand and bear witness to something unexpected. The sound of the cutting blade grows closer and quickly ends after it meets its target. She violently starts to shake, and her skin shrivels up.

  “The codes are everything,” she whimpers as she falls to the ground, her eyes turning over in her head. Khari sees a man running away from the scene and tracks him down. The same guy from the bar. Khari grabs him by his collar and thrusts him high up against a wall.

  “Who are you?” Khari shouts into his face. Nothing. He tightens his grip and searches the man’s pockets. The more deeply he searches, the hollower the pockets get. When he looks back into the man’s eyes, he sees nothing. The sockets are empty. They are as deep and gaping as his pockets. After a while, all Khari sees is dark holes, and the biggest of them all is the man’s mouth. Khari’s grip grows weaker, and his body seems physically drained. What he sees through the man’s mouth is nothing human or alive. It is just a bunch of codes. White and blue cyphers encrypt with a virus that feeds of it. He realises now that Sarah is sane after all. The moment the thing before him answers his long-forgotten question, it sounds like a video repeatedly sticking as if it is submerged in water.

  “I’m the Messenger.” Even amongst all these body-chilling inhumane sounds, the voice underneath it all still sounds human. It reminds him of someone possessed. What happens next is meant to frighten him, but it only infuriates Khari causing him to respond with a few curse words. The thing’s head starts to fizz like the air being let out of a balloon, and his face drips like wet paint on a canvas. Khari quickly lets go of his throat and watches him fall to the ground in a pool of slimy skin. The moment it touches the ground it turns to water and moulds with the rest of liquid swirling down the drain.

  You need to see this.

  I shield my face from the light emitting from Sarah’s body.

  “Prepare yourself for code number 1.” I tear her shirt revealing the source of the grey light. The code lining her spine blurs out for a second, and when it focuses, it’s her name as an acronym: signed android relaying a hijack.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Khari throws his hands in the air and kisses his teeth. This whole situation makes no sense. She left a bomb in her wake, and the aftermath is worse than we can imagine. A truth we are yet to decipher. Our assignment is just getting interesting. For now, confusion clouds our understanding of what is staring in our faces.

  “A girl or android, whatever the hell she is, just died on our watch and we did nothing.”

  “She can’t stay here. We need to move her.” I said.

  “One step ahead of you bro.”

  Your place.

  I can’t. Maliyah.

/>   So, cloak.

  “Speak so that I may see you”

  - Socrates

  6

  Test my patience

  {Calista}

  In the prison house, everyone is on the ground floor eating food. Well as close to food as it gets. There is, however, the familiar smell of baked patties. In no time my mouth is watering, bringing a little light to my misery. With a sudden quickness, I make my way to the ground floor. The winners of their fight have the broadest smiles on their face like they are just coming to know what real food tastes like. I’ve only been here two days, and already it feels like a year. I miss eating and drinking without restriction.

  My hand stretches for a patty on one of the dusty trays. The dust upset my stomach, but the eagerness to taste real food motivates me to look beyond its physical appearance. My eyes light up but the excitement is fleeting, as a stinging sensation reaches my hand. I want to wince, but there is no room for weakness in a hole filled with murderers. Instead, I look my disturber dead in the eye with a scowl on my face. A grin dances across her thick lips. Her silver hair gleams in the darkness. The white marks around her eyes crinkle.

  “That’s not for you. You didn’t earn it.” She speaks to me as if I am a child and I have no mind of my own.

  “Says who? Do you even know who I am?” I know my identity is meant to be covert, but I can’t help myself, besides her attitude stinks.

  With a sneer, she whispers, “It doesn’t matter, everyone here is a nobody, and you are not excluded from the bunch.” She steps closer, all up in my face. “Do you know who I am?” The light plays tricks making her look taller and more menacing than she is. If this situation were any different, I probably would have liked her. She’s got a backbone.

  “A nobody.” I laugh and walk over to a table. My stomach growls and I feel eyes flock to me. Another day in misery. My cellmate across from me stirs the slob on her tray. Supposedly, it is chickpeas stew; I think not. They must think we are fools to believe anything they say.