Ancient Evil (The First Genocide Book 1)

by Griffiths, Brent J.

  Bex. He subvocalized the word and savored it.

  The longhair sitting next to him glanced over. He needed to work on subvocalization.

  She had told him to call her Bex, not Rebecca, but Bex.

  That small bit of intimacy had been enough to make his evening, once he got past the awkwardness of saying Bex out loud. The first few times he kind of mumbled it, as if the word had no right to come out of his mouth. As the drinks flowed and his shyness waned, her name flowed off his tongue. He overused it. He would use it in every other sentence so that it became an inside joke for them.

  “Would you like a pint, Bex? Or perhaps a glass of wine, Bex?”

  “So, Bex, do you have any siblings, Bex?”

  It seemed kind of lame in the cold light of morning, but she had found it amusing. Well, she laughed at it anyway.

  Hmmm, curious. It really wasn’t that funny.

  Maybe she was just pretending to find him amusing.

  Could she have been pretending?

  He could feel the demon of self-doubt start to creep up on him. A drip of cold sweat wended its way down his side.

  He replayed the night in his head, looking for some sort of confirmation that she despised him.

  He came up with nothing.

  Maybe he was too involved to be objective. He needed someone to talk it through with or he would never be able to focus on the huge statistical analysis he had signed himself up for.

  Who to discuss it with?

  His options were slim, very slim. He couldn’t talk it through with Proctor; too embarrassing. Dawson, the prick, was out. Bex herself? He’d rather cut off his left arm. He did not have any family he could call.

  That left his flat mates, Aye and Jonni. Aye was even more sheltered than Finn and not much of a conversationalist.

  That left Jonni. He would have to talk to Jonni.

  He threw up a little in his mouth.

  It was eleven thirty on Saturday morning, so he knew where he could find Jonni, in the Union having his breakfast pint.

  He started the laborious process of backing up his work to floppy disks. He did not want to save any of his real work on the University network.

  “So what happened after I left last night? Did you call it a night? Go to bed early?” Jonni asked. Finn had found Jonni waiting in line for some food; it seemed like Jonni was running late as he was still pintless. They both bought macaroni cheese and chips, the highest calorie count per penny food that that was sold in the Union, so the Union sold a lot of it because most students wanted to save their money for booze. They got their food and waited in line to pay.

  “First of all, you didn’t leave. You were punched in the mouth by a big German and thrown out of the pub.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. That explains the fat lip. I had a few bevies before we went out. It’s all a bit of a blur.”

  “Quel surprise.”

  “Hey, I thought we said no frog talk before noon.”

  “It’s twelve oh five.”

  Jonni made a face. “Let’s consider the intention of the law rather than the letter, alright? Anyway, I assume you left soon after me. I can’t think that you wanted to hang out with Duchess all night.”

  “Well no, not Diana.” Finn emphasized her name. “I actually stayed out pretty late. I teamed up with that other girl when you left. What was her name again?”

  “Ho, ho, ho. You dirty bastard. You finally got up the nerve to talk to Rebecca pert tits Jones, did you? Did you do her? Did you go back to her place and bang her brains out? No, I would have known if you brought her back to ours; I have a nose for quim you know.” He winked widely and touched the side of his button nose. Some of the people in the line in front of them turned to look at them.

  Finn tried to pretend they were looking at someone behind them. “You have a serious problem, you know that? She’s a nice girl. More than nice. She’s smart, pretty, funny. Just a cool girl. OK?”

  “Alright, alright. Sorry.” Jonni raised one hand to indicate he was backing off, juggling his tray of starch and fat in his other hand. “So you had fun, then? Did anything interesting happen?” Finn narrowed his eyes. Jonni continued, “No not like that. Just polite chit chat. I’m just trying to see if I missed anything. I don’t want to turn up on Monday and have to ask Duchess for all the goss.”

  “Well, one really funny thing happened.”

  “Oh, do tell.”

  “Well this titchy little Scot got into a fight with a big German.”

  “Ha, fucking ha. See what happens when I try to be normal?”

  “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

  They paid for their food and put it on a nearby table. Their trays barely fit on the small round table that could double as a checker or chess board if required. This was rarely required. The only games played at the tables were drinking games or occasionally some longhairs would play Magic before the bar got too busy. Finn said, “Want a pint?” Jonni tilted his head to the side, puzzled, wondering why Finn was even asking. Finn sighed and went to the bar to get a couple of drinks.

  He put the pints of Youngers No. 3 on the table. He jerked his chin at a girl on the other side of the room, “What’s her story?”

  “She’s crying.”

  “I can see that,” said Finn. “Let’s try this again. Do you know why that girl over there is crying? Did she just hear about Kurt Cobain or something? Tragic.”

  “Aye, tragic.” They both sat in silence for a second or two, then Jonni continued, “It wasn’t that though.” Jonni leaned forward over his greasy plate of food and said, “Her boyfriend disappeared.” He then leant back and continued eating.

  “What? What do you mean by disappeared? Like in a magic show?”

  “No. Not like a fucking magic show. Jesus. It was at the beach party a few days ago. He went for a piss and never came back. They think he went into the water. They’ll probably find him up the coast in a few weeks.”

  “Tragic,” he paused, “Anyone I know?”

  “I think so. It was that guy from Manchester, you know, the one that always seemed to have a cold.”

  “Nope, I don’t know who you are talking about,” said Finn.

  “Andy, I think his name was Andy.”

  “Oh you mean Madchester Andy?”

  “Have you got a cold or something, too?”

  “Huh? Oh, I see. You didn’t get it. He didn’t have a cold, he deliberately called Manchester, Madchester, suggesting things are mad there,” said Finn.

  “Well, that’s just stupid. Maybe it isn’t such a tragedy that he went missing after all.” Jonni seemed miffed that he had missed the opportunity to mock Madchester Andy before he had gone missing.

  “Any idea why she is crying at the Union, rather than at home?”

  “Haven’t the foggiest.”

  “Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Rebecca is a cool chick. I like her. She even reads sci-fi,” Finn said.

  “Alternative Fiction,” said Jonni

  “What?”

  “I think we should call it Alternative Fiction, not sci-fi; sounds less nerdy. I’m sure other girls read sci-fi. They just don’t admit it. They might if it was called Alternative Fiction.”

  “Alternative Fiction? Are you serious?”

  “Uh huh, have you ever been on a bus or a train and seen someone reading a book with a slip-on cover, so you can’t see what they are reading? Sci-fi, ninety-nine percent of the time.”

  “Ninety-nine percent of the time? How do you know, did you do a study or something?”

  “Informally, yes. Whenever I see one of those covers, I go out of my way to see the top of the page that is being read. You know, where they often print the title of the book or the chapter, or the author. Once it was smut, once it was romance and all the other times it was…”

  “Sci-fi.”

  “Al-ter-na-tive Fic-tion,” Jonni sounded out each syllable slowly as if pronouncing a difficult word for a child or someone not fluent in English. “I
tell you, it’s lower on the rung of respectability than fucking Romance. So, let’s change the genre name and see if people will admit their love of it.”

  “See, that is what I am talking about. Bex just pulls out this Julian May book out of her bag and asked if I read it.”

  “Had you?”

  “Well, yes, but that’s not the point. The point is, she didn’t claim she had found it on a park bench or that her brother had given it to her or that normally she read the Bronte sisters or any of the regular bull feces of the closet sci-fiend. It was utterly and completely liberating how secure in her coolness she is. I really like her.”

  “Yeah, you said that. Now stop your fuckin’ smiling, I am trying to eat.” He then mumbled, “I am sure that those beautiful pert tits have nothing to do with this at all.”

  Finn smiled wider, “Doesn’t hurt.” Finn stirred the pale macaroni in the thin cheese sauce uncomfortably. “Anyway, I needed to talk to you and I need you to pretend to be someone reasonable and sensitive. Can you do that for me?”

  “I don’t really think that’s me. I can try but, you know me, honest to a fault.”

  Finn sighed then continued. “Here’s the problem, I think Bex likes me, but I’m not sure. What if she is, um, I don’t know, evil or something. What if she wants to make a fool of me?”

  “Always a possibility, pal. Happened to me a number of times … remember that girl on the bike?”

  “What? The one that you claimed smiled at you? The one that you chased down the street?”

  “Aye, her. When I eventually caught up with her, she told me to piss off.”

  “With all due respect, mate, not the same thing.”

  “Ah, I get it. You think that Bex is not a bitch.” Jonni nodded sagely and stroked his goatee. “We’ll see about that. Tell me what happened.”

  “Well, after the pub crawl we ended up in the Union.”

  “OK, let’s run through it.” Jonni, laced his fingers together, with index fingers extended, and tapped his lips with his fingers thoughtfully. “When someone she knew approached, did she ignore you and talk to them instead?”

  “Uh uh, she introduced me and tried to involve me in the conversation.”

  “Hmm. How about when she went to the bathroom? Did she come back? Or did you need to track her down?”

  “She came back.”

  “How about that fucking Friday night mosh pit in front of the bar? When you managed to fight your way to the bar and returned with drinks, had she ditched you.”

  “Nope, she shouted and waved at me. She had managed to snag a table.”

  “Hmmm, very curious.” Jonni tilted his head to the side. “And when you left the building, did she tell you to piss off and walk home alone?”

  “Again, no. You can see my confusion. She said she was hungry –”

  “Wait, wait, I think we are getting somewhere now. Where did she want to go, the All Night Bakery or the All Night Garage?” Jonni leaned forward eagerly.

  “MacIver’s”

  “Where the fuck is MacIver’s?” said Jonni.

  “MacIver’s. The bakery.”

  “What? The All Night Bakery? If you went to the All Night Bakery, say the All Night Bakery.”

  “Well the sign doesn’t say ‘All Night Bakery.’ They just figured out that they could sell pies and sausage rolls and such to drunken students at night, since they are there anyway baking bread for the morning. It’s a real bakery, not just a munchie magnet. We all just call it the All Night Bakery, but it is actually ‘MacIver’s Bakery’.”

  “Huh, who’d a fuckin’ known? Well, except for you, you wanker.”

  “Anyway, moving on. You seemed interested in whether we went to the All Night Bakery or the All Night Garage. Why? I’m intrigued. I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

  “Well,” Jonni said, “I was thinking she was going to get you to take her to the Garage to buy her a bunch of food and some fags and then ditch you, but no, she chose the Bakery. Did she at least make you pay for her, what? What did she order?”

  “A macaroni pie. And no, she didn’t make me pay; she paid for it herself.”

  Jonni threw his hands up in the air. “Well, you got me beat. I cannae figure it out.”

  “So, you think she actually, you know,” Finn cleared his throat, “likes me?”

  “Only one way to find out.” Jonni paused dramatically. “Ask her to go to the ball.”

  “The ball? What ball?”

  “I don’t know what fucking ball. One of the Halls must be holding one soon. Ask her to one.”

  “Um, OK. That was actually helpful.” Finn ate a couple of mouthfuls of the salty, gooey mess on his plate. “Do you think you could, you know, come along as well?”

  “Ach, no, please. I hate balls. Well, except my own.” Jonni smiled, grabbed his crotch and paused, waiting for Finn to say something. Finn didn’t. Jonni frowned. “Oh come on, that was some of my best material.” He paused again, and again Finn remained silent. “I suppose I can try and score with some Wee Mary who has never had a real man before.” He sat up a little straighter and sucked in his gut a little. “Alright, but you owe me and no fucking Ceilidh. I’m no gonna dance.”

  Finn smiled and thought to himself that Jonni was protesting a little too much. “What are you smiling about now?” says Jonni.

  “Nothing.” He took a deep breath. “I am probably going to regret saying this, but I hope she does like me, because I think I may be falling in love.”

  Jonni started choking on his food and then shouted, “Fuckin hell, did she let you fuck her in the ass?”

  Finn tried to ignore the stares and murmured, “Yep, big regrets.”

  Andy was petrified and in pain — so much fucking pain.

  The little French slut who had flashed her cleavage at him at the beach party had led him into the darkness where something had grabbed him before he had blacked out.

  When he had woken he had found himself in this miserable rocky darkness. There was no ambient light for his eyes to adjust to; all he saw was blackness. This served to heighten his other senses — not a good thing.

  He could hear them moving in the darkness; he was sure that there was more than one. He was even starting to believe that he could tell them apart by the way they touched him and by the way they hurt him.

  One would fondle him intimately with a huge clawed hand until he felt close to climax and then squeeze his balls until he felt they were going to burst like an orange being run over by a tractor tire. He knew it was crazy, how could a he become aroused over and over again by a monstrous hand and knowing the pain to follow? They seemed to be able to tweak his emotions as they wanted.

  Another would slide its feet as it moved so he could tell where it was and poke him with some sort of blade that burned after it pierced his flesh. It could circle for an hour before stabbing him, or it could jab him repeatedly over the course of a minute. He never knew what to expect.

  The worst was the whisperer. She would whisper in his ear that he just needed to hang on a little longer and they would let him go. She filled his head with visions of freedom until he could almost taste the outside air. She could claim that she would make him wealthy, attractive or famous and he would believe her. When he reached the point of highest hope she would start laughing. The laughing could continue for hours until he felt he was going to go mad. Maybe he was mad. Maybe he hit his head and this was all a delusion.

  He started to laugh. That was it, he was mad. None of this was real.

  Madchester, he was in Madchester for real. He laughed, rocked back and forth and said, “Madchester, Madchester…” over and over again. The pain and fear faded away.

  “I think he is used up, n’est pas?” He stopped muttering and listened. He had not heard the little French whore speak in the days or weeks or months he had been imprisoned in the darkness.

  “Shite, I think you’re right. I thought he would last longer. Leader will never let us grab another. Shitty little
University town. Let’s try to squeeze a little more out of him, shall we?”

  “D’accord.”

  His terror spiked briefly again as he felt clawed hands grab his arms and legs and pull. He heard a ripping and popping sound before his gibbering mind shut down and he died.

  The City, Year 7869 in the Reign of Enki II

  It was Assessment Day.

  Hael had been preparing for this day for every moment of his twelve-year life.

  Maybe that was not strictly true. There had probably been a few weeks after his birth that had not been dedicated to preparing him for this day, although keeping him alive and feeding him could conceivably be considered to be preparation for Assessment Day, so, on second thought, let’s say that it was strictly true — each and every moment of his short life had been spent preparing for this day.

  His earliest memories were of his mother teaching him and his brothers their lineage. By the age of six he had memorized the names and deeds of all of his direct forebears back to the time of the Emergence, except for one notable exception, who had his deeds and name expunged from history. Even the games they played were designed to increase his chances of success on Assessment Day and ultimately to prepare him for the Academy. Strategy games honed his problem-solving skills. Fighting and running toughened him up. Social games taught him the nuances of body language and motivation to prepare him for command. Card games and dice taught him the value of luck and the assessment of risk.

  Everything he needed to start his adult life, today, on Assessment Day.

  He had gone to bed early the night before but slept little — he had been too anxious to relax — worried that he would not awaken an hour before dawn to make his way to the Desert Gate for the First Test. Being late would have dramatically reduced his chances of gaining a place in the Academy, much less being one of the Ten.

  It was not enough to merely get into the Academy; he had to be one of the Ten. Every one of his ancestors, stretching back more than two millennia to Emergence, obtained a place in the Academy. Of those ancestors, other than the first one — Idaam, who had led his tribe out of the desert — Hael knew of only five others who had not been one of the Ten on Assessment Day. His brother Lucan had been Eight on Assessment Day and was currently ranked as Three in his year.