Ancient Evil (The First Genocide Book 1)

by Griffiths, Brent J.

  Given her current predicament, she would prefer to not have access to any of her mundane senses either, much less her enhanced ones.

  She flinched from the sight of her ruined body.

  She abhorred the smell of it.

  She was tired of listening to her own feeble whimpering and not so feeble screaming.

  Her mouth felt like a garbage man had taken a dump in it.

  Of all her limited senses, however, the pain made touch the one sense she would have done anything, absolutely anything, to be without.

  How had it been possible to trap her? Leader had taught the coven well, and they knew the dangers, which were few. One of their brothers or sisters, one of the other partially Quickened, one of the truly Quickened, getting overloaded by a rapid influx of heat or energy. All of these things could damage or kill her, but to trap her was inconceivable. It had been inconceivable, but not anymore.

  She thought again about the Taser. When the cripple had said, “No ordinary Taser,” he had been right. He had either been very lucky or he had calibrated it exactly to her — just enough energy to incapacitate her, but not enough to completely overload her and initiate combustion. Her little crip was much more dangerous than he had first appeared.

  She looked around to see if anything had changed since last she woke.

  The cage was in the center of what appeared to be an operating room or laboratory. The lab was well-lit, the walls were white, the floor was white and the ceiling was white. Bolted to the white ceiling were two large red tanks covered with alarming symbols and the words “Extreme Fire Risk” stenciled in — you guessed it — white. A series of pipes ran from the tanks to large sprinkler heads dotted across the ceiling. Charlie spent much of her awake time thinking about the tanks and sprinklers and what she would do if they ever started to spray.

  There was a large industrial desk along one wall with an impressive IT set up. Two of the other walls had tables set up against them. The tables were covered with piles of metallic junk, rolls of wire and odd-looking instruments. The last wall was mostly taken up by a large metal door that would have looked more at home in a bank vault. She had never seen the door open. Every once in while the red light above the door would light up with a soft buzzing sound and she would lose consciousness to the crackling sound of her cage being electrified. She would then wake up some time later, altered in some way, usually missing something or damaged in some horrific way.

  Her cage was in the center of the room. It was a five-foot cube, with a tile floor that sloped down to a drain in the center. It would have been uncomfortably small if she had still had all her limbs. In her current state, however, she had room to spare. The bars were scratched and some of the tiles were newer than others. This led her to believe that she was not the first to have been imprisoned in this lab, nor the first who had tried to escape.

  Beside her cage was a surgical tray with various sharp instruments. The tray and the instruments were on her “things not to think about” list.

  The only thing keeping her sane — well, as sane as she was before she left the pub that night — was that she knew that if she could escape, she would heal. A few days or weeks of rest, some nourishment and she would be good as new, no matter what the damage was.

  All she needed to do was to get away.

  She still had hope. Her coven was hunting for her. Nothing in existence hunted better than her coven.

  She would persevere.

  She would be vigilant.

  And when she got out she would tear the world apart searching for the fucking bastard who had imprisoned and mutilated her.

  She put every iota of her remaining strength into a call for help.

  She looked up and saw the red light go on. “Bollocks,” she said.

  “Did you hear that?” said Baby.

  “I did not hear anything, rien. You must be imagining it due to ennui,” said Little Eve in her slight French accent. When not with Leader the others spoke to Baby verbally; it cut down on the headaches. “And why did she take them off the search? It is more work for us, no?” Baby sometimes wondered if the French thing was all just an act. It had to be didn’t it? How could someone speak English for as long as Eve had and still retain a foreign accent?

  “I don’t know anything more than you,” said Baby. “One day Don and Lew are combing the streets for Charlie, the next they are off on some secret mission for Leader. Has she ever done this before?”

  “But of course. It is not so unusual for Leader to lend one or two of us out to one of her contacts. True, she has just not done so since you became one of us, but it is not unusual. Still, I am surprised that she took les deux idiots off the search.”

  “They wouldn’t have found her anyway. There’s a time for muscle and a time for brains.”

  “Mais oui. Still, she is usually so protective of what is hers. This must be a big favor that she is granting or paying back. That or she has given up on our poor Charlie.”

  “Or she, and therefore, we are work for someone and she had no choice in the matter.”

  “Oh hush, Baby. Leader is Leader, beholden to no one. She does as she wishes.”

  “I know you have been with her for a long time and know her better than I do, still it seems to me that someone said jump and she hit the ceiling.”

  “Oh, Baby, you had to keep talking, didn’t you? Oui, c’est possible, but now I need to try and remove this memory from my mind, lest Leader find it and consider me complicit in your disrespect. As you know, she considers such thoughts disloyal. I suggest you try to remove it too.” Little Eve paused. “Do you want to go again, or would you like me to take a turn?”

  Baby was more able at astral projection, but after a few days of driving herself to the edge of exhaustion they had agreed to switch off occasionally, to allow Baby to rest while Little Eve continued the search. Even with the rest breaks they were both getting worn out. Worn out and bored.

  Baby agreed to stand guard and Little Eve settled on the rug and sent her spirit searching. An hour later when she returned they picked up their conversation where they left off, the need to relieve their boredom trumping any possible risk of punishment from Leader.

  “I haven’t seen her act like this in years. Not since that time we snatched you,” Eve stretched as she spoke. She ate a cracker and had some water to ground herself in the material world. “What is she having them do, anyway?”

  “Nice, Eve. Nice of you to refer to my kidnapping in such a casual way.”

  “Oh pooh. If we had not taken you, you would still be a meek petit field mouse, but now you are a lion. You cannot expect me to believe that you would have preferred to have stayed as one of the blind slugs we feed on.”

  “Excuse me if I don’t thank you; the years spent as your plaything and occasional snack are still a little fresh. Maybe in time,” Baby said. To tell the truth, she was finding it harder and harder to remember what was so good about life before being Turned. Looking back was like remembering a character she played in a play. There was no depth of emotions from that time, she had known so little. “I don’t know what they’re up to. It is all very hush hush. Typical Leader keeping everything to herself. Did Don or Lew mention anything to you?”

  “Rien. They are enjoying knowing more than us. Although I don’t think they know any more about the reason for their assignment than we do. Petit garcons.”

  “I suppose we should get back to it. My turn, is it?”

  “Oui.”

  St. Andrews, Scotland, 1994

  Finn got a sinking feeling in his stomach when he turned up outside the Student Union on the morning of the “Extreme Sledging” trip. Bex had not mentioned the “extreme” part when she asked him if he wanted to go at the Ball. But Jonni, also a member of the “Alternative Sports Club,” had taken great delight in showing Finn the newsletter when Finn mentioned that he was going. Extreme or not, there was no way Finn was going to chicken out if Bex was going. Luckily, Jonni had an extreme ave
rsion to exertion and so only halfheartedly pretended that he was going to tag along.

  The source of his mild nausea was the group of eleven people, dressed up like polar explorers, waiting for him by the Student Union van. Finn, on the other hand, was wearing jeans with track suit bottoms underneath and a brown leather jacket. He had thought he was being particularly sensible by remembering to wear an extra layer. He even had a scarf. Then Bex arrived, kitted out in a similar arctic outfit.

  She looked him up and down and slowly shook her head.

  “Oh well, you’re here now, I am sure you will be fine,” she said.

  “Fine? What do you mean fine? It’s not dangerous or anything, is it?”

  “Um, no. No, of course not,” she said with increasing confidence. “Look, I am really glad you came. I know it is not really your thing, so, thanks for coming. Let’s get in the van, okay?”

  He looked inside the Union-branded van and then at the gathered students. “It looks like we are missing a seat or two. There is room for ten, maybe eleven inside and I distinctly see thirteen of us.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a Wee Mary,” she said with a smile. Her smile transmuted into a naughty smirk. “I’ll sit on your lap.”

  He scrambled into the van with his pack containing a sleeping bag, twelve cans of beer, two Pot Noodles and a couple of pork pies. His small, round sledge was tied to the outside of his pack.

  The two-hour drive into the mountains was a particular type of hell for him — a hell that he would not have changed in any way at all. The most noteworthy part was the end of the trip where the van turned onto an unpaved road that the van’s shocks were not really up to handling. At one stage Bex turned and looked over her shoulder at him with one archly raised eyebrow, so he needed to firmly fix an image of Jonni Brown with kilt raised in his mind’s eye until he regained control of himself. Control was regained quickly.

  He longingly exited the van when they reached what he guessed was their destination. He could only tell it was his destination because everyone else got out of the van, but to him it just looked like another deserted stretch of gravel road winding its way through a wasteland of heather, gorse, lichen and rock.

  Bex was off talking to some other girls so he turned to one of the guys standing nearest to him and said, “So, not much snow. Are we going to head back or something?”

  “What do you mean no snow?” he flourished at a snow-capped peak in the distance, “Behold, snow.”

  Finn sighed.

  “So, first time?”

  “Yeah, I was expecting something a little more… I don’t know, just more. At least we have the little house thing to stay in overnight.”

  “Little house thing? Oh you mean the bothy?” he chuckled a little.

  Finn squinted at him, trying to figure out what was funny and getting a sinking feeling in his gut again.

  The guy put his hand out and said, “I’m Simon.”

  Finn looked at his hand for a second before reaching out and shaking Simon’s hand. “I’m Finn.”

  “Welcome aboard, Finn. This is going to be lots of fun. Trust me.”

  “So, judging from your accent I am guessing you are from…” Finn paused. Simon sounded American, but he had frowned a little when Finn started to guess where he was from so Finn went with, “Canada?”

  “Hey, you got it in one. I hate it when people assume I am some DFA. I think you and I are going to be friends.”

  “DFA?”

  “You know Dumb Fucking Amer—“

  “Hey Finn. Simon.” Simon was interrupted by Bex. “You boys ready to go?”

  “Let’s hit the road,” said Simon, hitching up his backpack. Finn was gratified to hear the clank of cans and bottles from Simon’s pack. It could turn out to be a fun weekend.

  Finn, Simon and Bex climbed over the roadside fence using the stile and followed along behind the ten other members of their extreme sledging group.

  As the group disappeared over the first hill a Mini Cooper pulled up and parked behind the Student Union Van. A striking woman with pale blue eyes unfolded herself from the car. She pulled a hat onto her short, bristly blonde hair and set off after the group of students at a deliberate pace. She was in no hurry to catch them; she knew where they were going and could track them if they changed their destination.

  Bex had been mingling with the group, so Finn had the option of either following her around like a lost puppy or attempting to strike up conversation with some of the others in the group, neither of which was particularly appealing to him. He decided to go with door number two.

  He started by walking near Simon and a girl he was talking to and joined their conversation by proximity — laughing at their jokes and grunting in the affirmative to start with and then by contributing a bit of trivia that he thought was relevant to their conversation. All the while he was keeping aware of exactly where Bex was.

  He noticed Bex move on to talk to someone else, so he thought, “What the hell, in for a penny in for a pound” and walked over to the dark-haired student who seemed to be leading the group and stuck out his hand, “Hi, I’m Finn.”

  “Hi Finn. Trevor.”

  After a few hours of walking and a couple of brief rest stops, Finn had spoken to everyone a little and was starting to enjoy himself. They had hit the snow and his feet were starting to get really cold in his black leather shoes. At least they had a thick rubber sole on them.

  Bex walked over. “Turning over a new leaf?”

  “Huh?” He looked at her quizzically.

  “Talking to people, introducing yourself, I mean really you are shameless.”

  “Very funny, I am not a complete hermit, you know.”

  She looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

  “Okay, so it’s bit of a struggle, but I’m making an effort, okay? Maybe I don’t want to appear to be a complete spacko in front of your friends.”

  “I’m just teasing you. Anyway, these aren’t really my friends. I’ve seen a couple around and I went to the meeting where they explained what to expect, but I wouldn’t have called any of these people friends.”

  “What? We are here out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers?” He said it a little louder than intended.

  “Not strangers anymore, Finn, my boy. Not anymore.”

  Finn looked around and understood her point. “Wait, there was a meeting?”

  “Yeah, of course. Last week on the top floor of the Union. I am sure I told you about it. Didn’t I?” He shook his head. “I wondered why you didn’t show up. I was kind of surprised to see you waiting by the van this morning; I thought you chickened out.” He tried to look offended, but she continued on, “They told us where to meet, what to bring. You know, sleeping bag, hats, gloves, the basics. It was not really worth attending. I mean who needs to be told that they need to bring a hat and gloves sledging?”

  “Hmm.”

  “What do you mean hmmm? Oh no, really? Neither a hat nor gloves? Please tell me you brought a sleeping bag.”

  “Of course I have a sleeping bag. I just didn’t think to bring a hat or gloves. I’ll be fine, really.”

  “If you say so.” She shook her head a little. “You may be brilliant, but you really do need to have someone look after you, don’t you?”

  He did not know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

  He looked around and quickly counted everyone and then grunted to himself.

  Bex said, “What?”

  “Nothing really, it just seemed like the group was smaller. I was wondering if we were missing someone. But, nope, all thirteen of us are here. Weird”

  “You know, I noticed this kind of thing before on these types of trips. As you get to know people, the group just seems to get smaller. I suppose it becomes a little more familiar or intimate as the group stops being a bunch of strangers and becomes Simon and Claire and Trevor and Morag.”

  “Who’d have figured getting to know people could be so interesting?”
<
br />   “Um, everybody. Weirdo,” she said it with a smile and play punched him on the arm.

  The woman kept back, always just a hill or two behind them, out of sight. Now that they had reached the snow she just walked along in their tracks. Even if they thought someone was following, even if they tried to evade her, they would fail, snow or no snow. She had been tracking and hunting for an unimaginably long time.

  The bothy was like a little house, he supposed, as long as the genus of “little house” encompassed a stone shed with no furniture. It did have four walls, a wood floor a window (with no glass) and — thank God — a fireplace.

  Details of the bothy emerged like a series of stop motion photographs as they crested each hill. Trevor pointed out a black speck on white an hour or so after they left the van behind, then they walked down into a valley between the hills. When they crested the next hill, it appeared to be a child’s toy dropped into the snow in the distance. More and more detail became apparent as they crossed each valley and hill until they stood before it, in all its modesty.

  Finn decided to look at the bright side: at least it was shelter and it would block the wind.

  Trevor, the leader of their little expedition, said, “Everybody, let’s drop our stuff inside and do a little sledging before the sun goes down; the hill here has some snow.” He turned and pointed off into the distance and said, “We’ll go up the mountain tomorrow for the real thing.”

  Finn looked at Bex and pouted. She shrugged and smiled. “You didn’t think this was it, did you? Come on, don’t be such a grouch.”

  He put a sunny smile on his face and she laughed that laugh of hers.

  Finn walked over to the bothy and climbed in through the hole in the wall that served as a window; apparently the door was stuck closed. Wonderful.

  She watched them play in the snow on their small, round toboggans. She watched the one who was not wearing a hat closely. She was disappointed — she had heard that he was bright — apparently not bright enough to wear a hat. She would wait for the right opportunity.