by M. T. Miller
“Were you a lieutenant?” Father Light asked.
“No,” the Nameless said. “I was very new at the time; just barely got cut.”
The priest looked at the general again. “Something is off about this. Do you believe him?”
“It matches what he told Baker,” said the general before turning back to the Nameless. “What training did you get before that? There had to have been something. One doesn’t just develop tactical knowledge out of the blue.”
“One doesn’t,” the Nameless agreed. “And neither did I. I had to learn that the hard way: out there.” He pointed away from the city, toward the east. He knew it encompassed Babylon, but everything else as well. “I had to survive on my own, with nothing but my wits and will. I learned from anyone I met, and then moved on. I joined groups and left them when they became useless to me. When I could, I read books.”
“But wherever you went, it was not meant to be?” Father Light asked.
“Indeed,” said the Nameless, preparing himself for the first outright lie he would tell the two men. “I know now that it was all in preparation for this. The Lord put me through these trials so that I would become who I am now. So I could serve the One True Church of America when that time came.” He struggled with some words, but made no errors and didn’t slobber over himself.
Father Light stared at him with an unreadable expression. Then, the tight skin around his lips stretched toward his ears and he showed a smile as white as the rest of him. “Stanley Lem, you are a boon to man.”
How he managed to conceal his sigh of relief, the Nameless didn’t know. So they can be lied to. Good to know.
“Not yet, he isn’t,” the general said with an understated smile. “He still has to pass the field test. His men, too. Not that I doubt their performance, but it’s always best to plan around the worst-case scenario.”
“You should show a little faith, General,” Father Light quipped before taking a sip of his wine.
“A little faith is what I’m already showing,” the general said, smiling as he drank half his glass. The fact that the men were basically taking jabs at each other amused the Nameless.
Is this friendly, or a rivalry? Or both? he wondered. Still, seeing someone show what bordered on blasphemy and not getting punished for it was a fresh change of pace. The initiation ritual was apparently not a necessity for the general.
“This is not the only reason you were summoned,” Father Light said as he laid down his glass. “You are doing an exceptional job, and we wish to reward you.”
The Nameless looked to the general then back to the priest. The general didn’t smile anymore.
“The nun you approached”,” Father Light said as he leaned in toward the Nameless. “Did you know she’s a redhead under that wimple? You want her, right?”
Is this a trap? Did he not believe my lie? The Nameless leaned away, the muscles in his center tightening. If Father Light was testing him again, it did not bode well.
“I made a mistake,” he said, lowering his stare. “It was out of line. It won’t happen again.”
“What you did was normal behavior,” said Father Light as he raised his voice. “Tell me, and be honest; do you think I spend my nights cold and alone?”
“I… I don’t know,” the Nameless said. Though I would expect the answer to be no.
“Now you’re just brown-nosing,” said the general, slaying his drink. “You like the nun, Lem. Admit the truth. We won’t bite.”
The Nameless tried biting his lip before remembering it was not there. “She is beautiful,” he said truthfully.
“Do you want her?” Father Light asked again. “Because if you do, I can arrange for a night or two with her. Alone. And make no mistake, this has to be done in absolute secrecy.”
“But she is a nun,” the Nameless insisted, still taking the path of least resistance. “Touching her would be blasphemy.”
“Not if you wear the hood,” Father Light said with a smile.
The Nameless’ tense body relaxed as he put two and two together. While we wear our hoods, we are beyond sin.
“Gears are turning up there,” Father Light said. “Keep the hood on, and you can have her in any way you want, any number of times. This is my offer to you, for a job well done. Now what do you say?”
He turned to the general, whose distaste was obvious. “Don’t let me discourage you. You’ve been offered a gift. Take it or leave it.”
Having initially wanted to reject, the Nameless thought of an idea. Yes, it could work, he thought as he eased himself back against his chair.
“Yes,” he said confidently. “The redheaded nun. I want her.”
“Magnificent,” Father Light said as he nodded. “I’ll make the necessary preparations.”
And I will get some answers, thought the Nameless.
Chapter Nineteen
The Nameless walked the ruined streets of the Underbelly with his hood covering his Skull face. He had been given directions and a description, but it was difficult to find in the rubble. The fact that it was the dead of night didn’t help either.
Must everything I do end this way? The city was bad off when he had first found it, but the amount of destruction that occurred there in the meantime had made it just a little better than Babylon’s slums. Who could imagine that a beheaded monster is worse than a whole one?
A luxurious-looking house caught his attention, one of the few intact ones he’d seen so far. With an impressive yard, and three floors, it seemed like a place one would use for leisure, especially given how far it was from both the camp and church.
He pushed the rusted gate in. In slid effortlessly, albeit with an ear-piercing shriek. There was lush, moonlit grass in the yard, something he wasn’t used to seeing. The camp was so beaten and stepped-over than nothing grew there anymore, while the desert beyond was devoid of any life.
He came up to the still-smooth, oaken door, grabbed the knob, and opened it wide. The hallway beyond was just as well kept as the house’s exterior, with a welcoming carpet and hanging pictures that somehow weren’t looted yet.
Second door to the left. He followed the instructions and found himself in one of the house’s many spare bedrooms. Painted and decorated mostly in red, with silk hanging from the few places where gold didn’t, the chamber contrasted heavily with the white-clad Annabelle sitting on the centerpiece king-sized bed.
It took a few seconds for her empty stare to focus on him instead of the door he was closing. He took a good look at her face as he approached, taking time to inspect her features. She was no longer as thin, but the eyes and the bone structure were a dead giveaway. Still, he had to check. No way was he going to try this without being certain.
He extended his arms toward her, and Annabelle recoiled. She opened her mouth, as if to say she were sorry, but stopped herself before any words escaped.
“I will not harm you,” he said as he slowly dismantled her headpiece. She winced, but he kept doing it anyway. Unlike you, I do have a measure of self-control, he thought, remembering the time he’d spent in her family’s camp.
The pieces fell to the bed and floor, and Annabelle’s red hair was free in his sight. He took a step back, letting the image sink into his mind. This was the cannibal who had violated him, and then saved his life. For good or ill, he would never forget her face, nor anything else about her. His heartbeat quickened, so he moved forward. She recoiled again. If she were anyone else, he would have done this slower. But one reaps what one sows, and he intended to use her for what she was worth.
He removed his mask, ignoring the horror in her eyes. Picking up a scented handkerchief from a lacquered table on the side of the bed, he wiped the area of the mask his mouth rested against. He then looked into her eyes, as one stared down a prisoner of war before they were questioned.
“I am a White Knight,” he said, spreading his hood so he peeked at her through the eye-holes. “This means that I have some privileges. One of them is possessio
n of this hood. Do you know what it is for?”
Annabelle nodded, and a lock of hair slid down the side of her face. The sight of her naturally red lips on that pinkish face temporarily distracted the Nameless, and he needed a moment to start talking again.
“Good,” he said. “This is how we are going to do this, then. I am going to place the hood over your face, temporarily freeing you from your vow of silence, as well as any others you might be under. I will then ask you some questions, and you will answer to the best of your ability. Do we have an understanding?”
Annabelle nodded once more.
The Nameless put the hood over her, regretting the fact that he deprived himself of the sight of her face. Having made certain that the slits were centered on her eyes, he took a step back and sat himself on a nearby chair.
“Your name is Annabelle,” he begun. “You belong to a tribe of cannibals called the Manhunters. Your father, Red, was killed eight months ago, in battle with the Skulls. Am I correct?”
Her eyes widened at the dropping of information, but the rest of her remained stationary. “Yes,” she said in a subdued tone.
If he weren’t certain it was her, the Nameless would have doubted his ears. “What are you doing here, then? Your kin has been slaughtered in combat with the Skulls, yet you are serving them. Why?”
“Ah didn’t come here ta help Skulls,” she said. “Ah done came here ta atone for what I done.”
She is cooperating. The Nameless leaned in. This was a start. “To atone for what? Your and your family’s cannibalism?”
“Ah’ve done worse than that, mister. Ah’ve done way, way worse,” she said, diverting her gaze. “Ah’ve already confessed ta th’sister. Can we please not do it again?”
Something new, or did her mind crack under the weight of it all? the Nameless wondered. He wouldn’t press the issue. He was concerned about greater things. Annabelle would have to fight her demons on her own. “We shall see. Next question: what happened after Red died? How did you survive? What led to you taking your vows?”
Annabelle closed her eyes. Despite her face being covered, it was apparent that she was struggling with something. When she opened them up they were glossy, and her voice was no longer as flat. “Ah done ran, mister. Ah done ran as far as mah legs carried me. Took me a whole day ta reach the city, and when Ah done, it were full of… of… men like y’all.”
She went silent, closing her eyes again. The Nameless gave her a few more seconds, but when it became apparent that it wasn’t enough, he decided to push her. “Go on. As I’ve said, I am not going to harm you.”
Annabelle gazed back at him, struggling not to look away. “They’ve done things ta me, mister. Hawrible things.” She paused, breathing in deep. “Naw worse than what we done ta others back in th’family days… but it hurt. It hurt real bad.”
Of course it hurt. The Nameless was on the brink of lashing out. What did you think it felt like?
“Th’sister came ta mah rescue,” she continued. “Drove th’men away an’ carried me back ta th’church, where she done fixed me up. Made me confess while Ah was in pain. An’ after hearin’ what Ah had ta say, she done made me swear th’vow of silence. Told me Ah’d get ex’cuted if anyone was to hear what Ah’d done.” Tears started running down her cheeks, soaking the hood. “Y’all aren’t gonna kill me or anythin’, mister?”
She wanted to share her story, the Nameless realized. The silence was eating away at Annabelle, along with being forced to live a life she didn’t enjoy. Yet there was no escape. The True Church did not allow for anyone to leave. The additions they’d made to the Scripture were clear on the matter: once one became committed to seeking the Answer, they were to remain on the path or perish. Should Annabelle try to leave and fail, she would be facing the death penalty.
“No, Annabelle,” he said. “I assure you, you are perfectly safe.” From me, anyway.
She nodded, taking another handkerchief and wiping the tears by sticking her hand underneath the hood. “This here…” she pulled her hand out, “it won’t stop th’hood from workin,’ right?”
“It won’t,” the Nameless nodded. He wanted to know more. He considered asking her about her life in the convent, how she’d been treated, if this was the first time she’d been made to keep company to a Knight… but his time was limited, and there were more important things to learn. “What are your duties here?” he asked. The more he knew about that, the more he could potentially draw out of her.
“Ah do what’s asked of me,” she said. “Ah clean, polish, an’ help Sister Chastity with her own duties. Ah used ta bring food ta th’recruits, but now that’s all over an’ done with b’cause, well, y’know…”
I know. “Have you ever found yourself in the company of someone high up? Like the general or Father Light, for instance?”
“Y’mean like y’all an’ me right now, or…?”
“I mean in any way you can think of,” the Nameless said.
“Th’ol’ priest, he don’t fancy me,” she said. “Ah’m a thinkin’ he know what I done did, somehow. Ah’ve served th’general a drink or two, but that was brief. Nothin’ big.”
The Nameless wondered about his next question, but Annabelle posed one of her own.
“Say, yer not like these people, aren’t y’all now?”
The strings in his neck tightened as he fixated his stare on her. “What makes you think so?”
“Well, most everyone I done met ‘ere was scared outta their wits. They just do what they’re told, never ask a thing. You, not so much.”
What to say? The Nameless clasped his hands and raised them in front of his face. “And what if I am not?”
“Nothing,” Annabelle said. The hood over her face wrinkled, as if she were smiling. “Would be a damn shame if someone were ta sneak into this wonderful thing they got goin’ here, is all.”
“I agree,” the Nameless said, letting his mutilations disguise his smile. “That would be bad.”
Annabelle moved gracefully, for the first time he’d seen her since she’d donned the robe. The hood still on her face, she rose and started walking toward him. Unlike back in the camp, her gait was different. This time, it was casual and seductive; the stride of a woman who knew what she wanted.
“Stop right there,” he said, rising with his palm extended. His body reacted to hers, so he had to keep himself tilted to the side. Even he was uncertain of why he did it.
“Ah done thought y’all wanted me,” she said in a tone that bordered on fury.
I do, the Nameless thought as he turned his palm around and lowered his hand somewhat. “The hood. I will be needing it.”
In a single motion, Annabelle yanked the fabric off her face and dropped it in the palm of his hand. Her face was a mixture of frustration and anger, but nevertheless she kept her vow.
“Endure,” the Nameless said as he covered his horrid visage. “Times are not kind to anyone. But when they change, and I guarantee you that they will, you will be thankful for your time here. The convent might be boring; it may deprive you of your needs and desires, but it is a safe haven from the madness outside. Few women enjoy the safety that you do. Be thankful for it.”
The way Annabelle looked at him communicated that she’d had enough safety for a lifetime. She wouldn’t witness any more horror firsthand, yes, but she was nevertheless walled in with people she hated. It didn’t change his mind on the matter. Then again, even if he wanted to help her in any way, he was powerless to do it from his current position.
“Are we going to have a problem?” he asked as he stepped toward her, causing her to recoil again. This time, though, her motions weren’t those of panic or phobia. She had stepped back in caution. He remembered full well the rage the woman was capable of when she perceived she was scorned. She could do a whole lot of damage if she decided to act on it.
Annabelle shook her head, her anger dissipating with each motion.
This is bad, he realized. She would need some e
ncouragement, else everything would be at risk.
Relaxing his body, the Nameless leaned in close enough for the fabric of his mask to touch one of her ears. “I will get you out. Not soon, but at some point. This, I promise.” He then leaned away, looking at her face once more. Her expression was the same, but her green eyes now possessed a warmth they didn’t have before.
Good. She will keep my secret, in words as well as deeds. As he turned away, he came up to the door and opened it wide. “I trust that you will re-adorn yourself?” he asked as he gave her a side-stare.
Annabelle nodded, her posture back to that of a regular nun.
“Perfect,” the Nameless said as he left the room. The way back to the camp he would spend in regret.
I should have bedded her, he thought, but it was far too late for that.
***
The night passed by as usual, and the morning. Just like every day before that one, the Nameless woke up in his tent with Greg and Kenneth, subjected them to minimal social courtesy, did his regular hygiene, and marched over to the training yard. Over the course of some half hour, the rest of his men gathered, and they were ready to commence their training. It was then that the usual routine got shattered.
“Sergeant Lem!” A nun ran up to the Nameless just as he was about to separate everyone into squads.
“Yes, Sister?” he asked as he signaled for Greg to take over. Whenever a nun approached, it meant at least a few hours of absence from the yard.
“The general demands your presence at the command center,” she said.
“Lead the way,” said the Nameless. He knew that she meant the lavishly decorated tent, but allowed her to lead him anyway.
She led him to that exact location, only this time the center was anything but peaceful. Almost a hundred uniformed bodyguards stood watch outside, indicating that their superiors were likely in the middle of a meeting. The fact that he, a mere sergeant, had been invited said good things about the commanders’ appreciation of his work. However, the crowd was not the only unusual thing about the tent. From within, the screeching voice of a woman in fury hurled insults without compromise.