Finally, Jamie pulled his car into a narrow side alley in what looked to be one of the more rundown areas of the city. After stopping the car, Jamie and his friends quickly got out, ushering me in front of them through a small door into a dark room. The metal door closed behind them with a resonant clang that sent shivers through my body.
I could hear the heavy breathing of other guys in the darkness of the room; I could almost smell their anticipation. Apparently though, only Jamie really knew what was going to happen, because one of his goons suddenly asked, ‘Are ya sure this is the right place?’
‘Yes, now shut up!’ Jamie barked back. He pressed a large hand against my back, propelling me further into the gloom and down a hallway.
The building stunk of old piss, of rotting meat, trash and other things that I didn’t want to identify. The smell definitely did not ease the churning in my stomach.
‘Down the stairs, Piggy.’
I felt like retching, but my body had begun to descend into a state of shock. I followed Jamie’s directions, nervously climbing down the stairs. The other boys followed behind me, ensuring that I couldn’t make a break for it.
The stairs emerged into a large basement, dimly lit except for small patches of sunlight streaming through grimy windows. Then, as soon as all of us had stepped into the room, a light array flickered on overhead, the bright fluorescent bulbs humming loudly. They revealed that we were not alone.
A tall figure stood illuminated in the harsh fluorescent radiance. Spiky hair dyed indigo, fashioned into a Mohawk that spilled down his back, contrasted with the whiteness of his skin, as did the black fishnet shirt and black latex pants that seemed moulded to his incredibly lithe body. His face was...the only word I could think to describe it was sculpted. His features were fine, narrow and angular, yet with a fullness of lips and a certain lushness about him that was reminiscent of marble sculptures from Ancient Greece or Rome. The fishnet shirt revealed that the figure was in fact a guy, yet the way he held his body and the way he moved seemed off somehow. There was something distinctly inhuman about him.
As the stranger saw us, he gave an odd, almost feral smile. He peered at me from eyes shadowed by his hair. ‘Good, you brought him,’ he said, in a soft, almost whispering voice.
‘Yeah,’ Jamie replied smugly, ‘Just as ya asked - the Pig...er...the kid, Mikey. You got the money? Same deal as always?’
The stranger stepped forward, moving towards us with a sinuous grace that made me uncomfortable. Not that I wasn’t already scared enough to piss myself, but I was so caught by the grip of terror, at that moment even a loosening of my bowels seemed impossible.
When the stranger spoke next, it was in a sort of pleased hiss that reminded me uncannily of a cobra about to strike, ‘Excellent, Jamie...you will most assuredly receive what you deserve.’
‘Great, just what I wanted to hear,’ Jamie smirked and nodded his head, glancing smugly towards his friends as he said, ‘See, what’d I tell ya? These guys’ll pay good money for these scumbags. Best part is, no one cares what happens to ‘em, so it’s easy money.’
Just as the last word left Jamie’s lips, the stranger snapped his fingers. At once, the room was again thrust into darkness. Movement erupted around me. Jamie and his pack were shouting and flailing about, and there were others in the murky shadows, moving with absolute silence except for the whispering slither of vinyl and leather. Bodies crashed into me as I tried to make a break for it, sending me spinning, until I couldn’t tell which way was out. I strained my eyes trying to pierce the gloom, but all I could see was the afterimage of the fluorescent light burned against the backs of my eyes. Finally, I thought I spotted a gleam of light, a possible way out, so I started running, pushing my way past whatever got in my way; then someone hit me from behind and sent me sprawling to the concrete floor. I tried to pick myself up, but a hard boot slammed against my head and sent me crashing into oblivion.
When I awoke, I found myself in a large room, without much light. I quickly realized I was naked, my skin crusted with sweat and filth. It didn’t take me much longer to realize I was trapped with others, who were in a similar state to myself. At first, I tried talking to these anonymous figures, but the oppressiveness of the room and the starkness of our situation soon left each one of us alone with our own thoughts. Thoughts crowded into my head: I had been sold into slavery, or kidnapped by some strange cult, or even that I would be forced to take part in some sinister government experiment. In the end, when the Uigenna came to drag us away and strapped me down to the stone table, I had given up trying to figure out what had happened, but found in myself a strange determination to get out of it somehow, to get out and become something more than a statistic of another inexplicable disappearance.
I open my eyes and gaze up at the lights above me. My body feels strange, different somehow. Looking down at myself, I see the straps have gone. I’m lying on a cot instead of a cold stone table. I’m covered with a thin grey blanket, my body’s shape visible beneath the fabric. At once, I sit upright, my head reeling. This can’t be real. The rolls of fat have gone, as if they melted away in that terrible crucible of heat and pain. What’s left behind is a body lithe and willowy. And I can see myself clearly, without the thick glasses I’ve needed all my life. Warily, I lift the corner of the blanket to see what lies beneath. Something has been done to me. Something beyond words. This body is not mine: it can’t be. I’m not sure if it’s even male any more.
I lie back in the silence, unable even to think. I lie still, very still. I stare at the cracked ceiling.
Then a shadow falls over me and a voice murmurs, ‘So, our sleeping beauty awakens.’ It is the stranger from the basement: the tall, slender figure in ebony, ivory and indigo. He smiles and something within me stirs. There’s something oddly familiar about him. And beyond this recognition is another feeling. He approaches me slowly. ‘Good morning, Mikey. I’d ask if you slept well, but I remember how painful the change is.’
I pull the sheet up to my neck, say nothing.
He smiles wistfully and shakes his head. ‘What? Don’t recognize me? No, guess not... I was a bit different the last time you saw me. Well, guess that means we need to be reintroduced. Down here, they call me Athame, but the name my parents gave me was Adam.’
I stare at him, and shake my head in denial of his words, yet as I look into his eyes, they are familiar to me, and part of me believes him. He kneels next to me, lifting a delicate yet powerful hand to cup my face. Alien thoughts spark inside me again. ‘I know you don’t understand any of this. I know that this must come as a huge shock to you. It was a shock to me as well. But let me tell you, it is better this way. I couldn’t save Ricky from killing himself, but I could save you.’
‘Wha...what about Jamie...and the others?’ I swallow, trying to ease the scratchiness of my throat, a bit taken aback by how different my voice sounds now.
Adam - Athame - merely chuckles. ‘Oh, we had them undergo the change as well. Only Jamie survived.’ Athame laughs again, this time a sound of dark amusement. ‘He will find that he’s not the top predator anymore.’
‘Adam, what the hell is going on? How has this happened to me? How long have I been here? Have you starved me? But my eyes...?’
Athame puts a finger to his lips to silence me. ‘This is your beginning. All that you knew, that you were, you’ve left behind. All the old limitations of human form are meaningless now. You are Wraeththu. You are har.’
They are just words. I stare at him, this creature of dream with Adam’s eyes. ‘But how...?’
‘We gave you our blood, our difference. This...’ His hand sweeps across my body, and I swear I feel electric heat pouring from it. ‘This is our gift to you. Humanity’s time is done. It is our time now. As Homo sapiens replaced Cro-Magnon, it is time for us to replace humanity. Nature has made us stronger and faster than man, as well as giving us other gifts, including the ability to make man into our own image.’
‘T
hen what am I?’
‘As I said, you are har, no longer man, but one of us. Don’t be afraid of the changes. From now on, Mikey is dead and gone. As of this morning, you shall be known as Boline, the light to my darkness and the darkness to my light.’ He leans over me and exhales. The steam of his breath conjures pictures in my mind: new possibilities unfolding, of dark days filled with riots, rage and flames; of a glorious glowing city filled with others like ourselves; of a new world rising from the ashes unlike anything anyone could have ever imagined.
Something within me blossoms in the darkness of my soul as those images fill my mind, a glowing bloom of light that fills me with a new sense of purpose, a new reason for being. I am no longer Mikey, the frightened and ugly kid from the suburbs of Carmine. I am Boline, the blade who will help usher in a new world.
The Dawn of Hope
Suzanne Gabriel
Human death came in quick flashes from the muzzle of the gun. The echoes continued to reverberate around the old garage for longer than it took for the bodies to fall. Some gambles don’t pay off, we should have known we were pushing our luck. We’d gambled and we’d lost.
Civilization had crumbled to the point of non-existence; it wasn’t very civil anymore. The city was a burned out war zone; a shell. Those humans with means or influence had fled to safe, fortress-like gated communities and we, the lost and disenfranchised, found safety of sorts in gangs that fought for survival against other gangs of humans; and we all fought ‘Them’. We all feared Them – they called themselves ‘Wraeththu’, but we had other names for them. They were strange, terrifying beings: faster, stronger, wild and unpredictable, and far more deadly. Sometimes they made their presence known, winning strategically impressive assaults against human strongholds and sometimes they appeared out of nowhere, silently dispatching their victims and then disappearing without a trace.
We’d lost this one. Our gang had been harrying a group of these strange creatures for a few months, but we’d fallen into a trap they’d set for us.
More shots rang out, and one by one more bodies fell. I felt nothing other than a hopeless sense of resignation. These were not my friends, these were my fellow gang members; humans thrown together, as there was strength in numbers. In this part of the city it was almost certain death to be on your own, so membership of a gang was essential. I feared my fellow gang members as much as we all feared these Wraeththu. I was the last one left standing, being held firmly by two of Them. I hadn’t fought; it seemed pointless.
Their leader approached me, sneering. “Been watching? If you got anything to say – better say it now.”
“Goodbye cruel world?” The insolence of my tone and words certainly didn’t match what I was feeling.
The Wraeththu threw back his head and laughed. “You’re a pretty thing. You’d make a good little plaything.” He grabbed my hair and kissed me roughly.
I fought then. I knew – or thought I knew - what happened when they “played”; I’d rather be shot.
There were a lot of them, kicking and punching, and only one of me – I lost, fast. Balled into a foetal position, I prayed for a quick end.
The leader rolled me onto my back and placed his knee on my chest as he drew a knife from his belt. The knife was big, silver, and cruelly serrated. He drew the blade across the heel of his palm; blood spurted up immediately and he licked the wound.
“Sharp!” He laughed spitefully. “This’ll do some damage.”
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, but it didn’t do any good, I could still see the blade.
I held my breath and when I felt him shift his weight a bit I bucked hard and rolled.
My bid for freedom didn’t get me far; I ended up face down on the garage floor; my face pushed into the oily reek of old car grease and gasoline. They had my arm twisted so far behind my back that I held my breath afraid that even the slightest movement would snap it. I could feel their leader’s weight on me, pinning me to the floor.
“I like a fighter,” he growled, his face near enough to my ear that I could feel the heat of his breath.
The knife sliced into my left shoulder. The leader grabbed the wound roughly, pressing hard into my shoulder, twisting the wound until I yelled.
He lowered his face again, so that his lips were touching my ear. “Now you are mine.”
Then one of his group shouted, “They know we’re here! Let’s go! Fast! Move out! Go! Go! Go!”
The creatures reacted to the alarm immediately. I was dragged to my feet and shoved at a tall Wraeththu in a leather jacket.
“Don’t lose him,” barked their leader.
They moved quickly and silently. I was dragged, shoved, and hustled along with them; out into the night street.
There were some yells and a popping noise. Something whizzed past my face. I heard a grunt from the creature dragging me and when he fell I dove for cover, crawling through a small hole in a chain-linked fence.
Then I ran until the first dark doorway arch I encountered. Although it smelled of urine and decay, I pressed myself as flat as I could and waited. It seemed like forever before the shouts and the running feet faded. Still I waited.
Dawn found me beneath a rusty fire escape hidden behind some battered garbage cans. I’d been woken by the sound of squeaky wheels and shuffling feet. I waited silently until they passed; two old men pushing an old shopping cart loaded high with junk. They muttered to themselves as they passed.
I weighed my options. I couldn’t go back to my old ‘hood. I was alone now and I’d be marked for revenge by all those with grievances, real or imagined, against those I’d relied on. I also couldn’t stay out alone. You didn’t survive alone. I’d have to squirrel into another area and try and work my way into a new group.
I felt awful that morning: a heavy queasiness accompanied by the chills, and my shoulder really hurt to move. I was weak and shaky. Daylight in the city was safer than night, but I still moved cautiously through the streets; it never paid to draw attention to oneself.
As the morning wore on, I felt progressively worse; nauseous. My stomach cramped. By midday my head was swimming. I felt so sick and dizzy. I stopped to retch a few times.
The earth began to rumble and a mechanical throbbing filled the air, a warning that motivated me to find safety behind a burnt-out wreck of a car. I huddled there as several army patrol tanks and armoured cars rumbled slowly down the street.
I’d often toyed with the idea of flagging one of these patrols down and throwing myself at their mercy, but they worked for those humans who existed in the gated communities; there was no room in those safe havens for disenfranchised hard-luck stragglers.
By late afternoon I was fairly sure I was dying; whatever disease I’d picked up was progressing rapidly. By the time I crawled into a rusty, crumbling dumpster, I could barely walk. I huddled there scared and feeling beyond miserable.
“Eww. He’s a mess.”
“Don’t look at me! I haven’t done anyone in weeks…”
I could hear voices.
“Well get him out of there! We can’t have him hollering like that out here. He’ll attract too much attention.”
I tried opening my eyes, but it was hard; they didn’t open all the way and my face felt swollen. I could make out several figures. My stomach lurched; they were Wraeththu. I closed my eyes again and sank away from the pain.
The next time I opened my eyes all I felt was tired.
I blinked a few times and gingerly tested my limbs. I was lying naked under a sheet in a dingy room. From where I was lying on the floor I could see grey light filtering through filthy windows high along the walls.
“Wakey wakey newbie,” a voice drawled.
I turned my head toward the voice. A slight figure in a dark hoodie sat slumped against the wall opposite hugging his knees.
“What’s your name?” he asked as he shifted forward and peered at me.
“Nolan.” My voice sounded slightly slurred.
�
�They call me Mouse,” he said. “It isn’t my name, but that’s what they call me. How you feeling?”
I sat up cautiously, holding the sheet tightly around me and peered around the dingy room.
“I feel okay,” I said.
“Consider yourself lucky. You survived. A lot don’t make it through, you know.”
“Survived? What the hell did I have?”
“Have?” His laugh was a short bark. “You had inception.” Mouse shook his head at my puzzled look. “Dumbass! You were incepted. You mutated. You went through ‘The Change’. You’re a har now. You’re Wraeththu. One of us. Get it?”
I stared at him for a moment as his words sunk in. “A har?” I asked, blankly.
Mouse nodded. “Har. It’s what we call ourselves. It’s what you are now. Har. Wraeththu.”
“But how?” This was surreal.
“How should I know?” Mouse shrugged. “We found you in the dumpster. You must have got blood from a har somehow at some point. It’s the only way I know of for inception to happen.”
I didn’t say anything, but in my minds’ eye conjured up the scene in the garage; I could see the Wraeththu gang leader and his knife. That must have been how it had happened.
I looked down at myself. I was definitely different. What little chest hair I had developed was gone, as was the hair on my arms. My hand came up to touch my face. My chin was smooth, not a hint of beard stubble. I felt a little different too. I felt slightly ‘wobbly’, as if I’d suddenly come out of a doorway to find myself balancing precariously at the very edge of a skyscraper’s roof. I felt a vastness and expanse that both thrilled me and terrified me.
I looked up at Mouse. He smiled slightly.
“Yeah, there are differences.” He said in answer to a question I had not asked out loud. “Brace yourself before you look under the sheet.”
Paragenesis: Stories of the Dawn of Wraeththu Page 5