Debris of Shadows Book I: The Lies of the Sage

by Tony LaRocca

  The world became billowing, rancid fog. Jaeger saw a soldier crouching in the sand. His face was featureless, waxen, and filthy. He trembled, swinging his rifle to the left and right with quick jerks.

  “God save the West,” he sang repeatedly in a raspy whisper, “God save the West…”

  “Soldier,” said Jaeger.

  The man sprung to attention. His uniform clung to his limbs, as if it were a molded part of his body. He peered into the miasma. His lips trembled as he took in Jaeger. “It’s You,” he said. He sunk to his hinged knees, and sobbed. “You returned. We knew You would.”

  “There isn’t time,” said the general. “We have a mission to carry out, a leader of the faithless abominations to bring to justice.”

  Tears streamed down the soldier’s plastic face. “Yes, Lord, fill me with Your fire.”

  “You must dig,” Jaeger said. “You must devour.” He pointed into the sand. “I will guide you.”

  The soldier threw his rifle into the mist, and saluted. He dove to the earth, tearing at it with his hands and teeth, sucking the coarse grains into his stomach.

  Jaeger pulled his mind back from the depths of the creature’s subconscious. He was the insect now, burrowing through the sand and clay at the speed of a bullet. He could hear David above; he could almost taste the hidden panic in the colonel’s voice.

  “Sergeant,” Rivers said, “I need a full sweep. Charlie–One is present. Repeat, Charlie–One is present. There must be a drone, or a transmitter nearby. If we can—”

  David’s voice broke off in a scream as the Jaeger–insect sank its razor–jaws into his boot. It chewed through the thick and dusty leather, until the hot, salty gush of blood filled its mouth. It shaved away at the bones of his toes, the microscopic furnace in its stomach demanding more and more fuel. The colonel fell to his knees.

  “Malachi!” he screamed. “Malachi!”

  Jaeger did not reply. The insect’s tiny brain was full of hunger and hatred. It was all he could do to keep his mind from drowning in its insane bloodlust. He fought the burning desire to stay and feed, as the creature tore its way through the meat of Rivers’s calf. On cue, the drone shot from the pit and approached, hovering millimeters away from the insect. The earth shook as the tanks resumed their shelling. Jaeger pulled his mind back to the safety of the drone, with a tearing sense of reluctance.

  “Containment breached!” Rivers shouted, as Jaeger flew back across the desert. More wasps had tunneled through, following the first. David pulled a grenade from his belt as the creatures chewed through his kneecap. He pulled the pin and released the handle, screaming as he exploded into a ball of plasma.

  Jaeger watched the violet–white ball of energy incinerate the colonel. Perhaps he had let his anger get the better of him in letting other mutants escape the pit, but he trusted the R.A. to contain them. His rage spent, he felt a pang of sadness. First Benjamin, now David. The three of them had started something great, ages ago, but it seemed only he had the stomach to continue. He cleared his mind, and meditated as the autopilot returned the drone to the arsenal.

  Matthew stretched out on the soft grass. He had fallen into a sweet slumber, but the sound of movement woke him. He lifted his head. Sigma sat on the edge of the hill. She had her pants on. He took a sharp breath as she pulled her bra over her breasts, and snapped the clasp behind her.

  “Hey,” he said, “you’re leaving already?”

  “Yes, I have duties.”

  A sinking sensation pulled at his stomach. “Well, are you coming back?” he asked. “Later, I mean.”

  “If I can.”

  He moved beside her, and kissed her naked shoulder. “I love you,” he said. She rolled her eyes a fraction of a degree, and stood.

  He swallowed, blinking. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Matthew, you are beautiful, and it was wonderful,” she said. “But you’re just not one of us.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked. “You said I was.”

  “I know what I said.” She placed her hand over his heart. “I can hear your thoughts. I know you can never do what we need.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We’re going to die,” Sigma said. “Our kind will be gone forever. We hoped you would save us, that you would be strong enough. But it’s just not who you are.”

  “I’ll do it, whatever you want.”

  She shook her head. “No,” she said, “you wouldn’t. And honestly, I don’t think I want you to. You are good, Matthew, you are good, and sweet, and I don’t want to take that from you, and this would change you forever.”

  “Why?” he asked. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you love her very much. And believe me, that’s not something I ever want to change about you.”

  “Mom?” he asked. “What does she have to do with this?”

  “It has to be done,” she said. “Of the original ten thousand, there are only fifteen hundred of your brothers left. The disease will kill us all, eventually. And even if it didn’t, death is coming from the West. Sooner or later, she’d die out there, they both would. At least this way, we have a chance to save them, and possibly ourselves.”

  “I can’t help you take her,” he said. “I won’t stop you, but I can’t help you. I could never look my mother in the eyes again.”

  Sigma put her bare arms around him. He drowned in her details: the freckles on her elbow, the red moles that bejeweled her smooth, creamy skin, almost hidden by her bra strap. Had he really just been inside of her? Intense memories flashed at him, but at the same time, it seemed so unreal.

  “You have to,” she said. “I need you to, they need you to. Your brothers, your family, new and old, need you to survive.” She slipped her hands away, and picked up her shirt.

  “Sigma,” he said, feeling panic surge inside him.

  “I’ll see you when I can,” she said, buttoning her uniform. She shimmered, and vanished.

  He bit his lip. His left arm and shoulder burned with a wretched fire. He rubbed it, kneading his rippling flesh. It wanted to tear off, to be away from him. And what would you do? he asked it. But he knew the answer.

  Chapter 10

  Alyanna woke within the Sage, feeling warmth on her arm. She lifted her head. Her elbow had been lying in the sunlight that shone through her window. She placed her hand on it, and felt the heat of her skin. She then touched her wrist, which was in shadow. It was cool, the same as her shoulder. She had woken in this bed for over a month, bathed in partial sunlight, but had never felt such contrast. She rubbed her palms together, delighting in their texture. Were her senses really that much more acute than before, or was it just wishful thinking?

  It struck her that she had full use of both hands.

  She leapt out of bed, almost tangling her legs in the sheets. She rummaged in her drawers for a drawing tablet and pencil. She held the charcoal in her right hand, closed her eyes, and drew.

  She opened her eyes. She still held the pencil in her hand. She had drawn a circle.

  A laugh of joy escaped her. She felt wetness on her cheeks. She had cried many tears since entering the Sage, but never distinguished their moisture so precisely on her skin. She curled on her bed with the pad and pencil, and sketched until her wrist hurt. When she finished, she threw on a robe, ran to her son’s door, and pounded on it.

  Matthew pulled it open. She threw her arms around him, having to stretch to do so. “It worked,” she said, squeezing him against her chest. “It worked, it worked.”

  “Wow,” he said. He pulled away, and looked at the pad clutched in her right hand. His lips spread into a smile. “That’s… really great. I’m happy for you.”

  “Yeah,” she said, sniffing. She wiped at her eyes. “You just don’t understand, I was so scared about the baby and everything, but they said it went fine, no problems.”

  His mouth opened and closed. “Great,” he said at last. “All right.”

  “Yeah,” she said
. “Is something wrong, hon?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. His smile widened. “That’s wonderful, what did you draw?”

  She held out her pad. He took it, and examined the sketch. It was of him, as a four year old, with Bananas curled at his side. An infant girl slept in his arms. She had an angelic smile, her eyes closed in peace and contentment.

  “That’s… so great,” he said. “I’m really happy for you.” He laughed, but it sounded like a huff. “Is that really what I looked like?”

  “Yep,” she said. She focused on him, her eyes narrowing. “Matthew, what is it? You look so sad. Please, tell me.”

  He swallowed. “It’s nothing.”

  “Does it make you sad, seeing yourself as four?”

  “That’s it,” he said, “that’s it exactly.” He stared at the drawing. “Being four, but really being nineteen, you know? It’s hard to get my head around.”

  She looked over his shoulder. “Can I come in?”

  “Oh, sure,” he said. He stepped back into the room.

  The once robin’s–egg–blue walls were now bare, white, and spotless. The bookshelves, once home to toy robots, jet planes, and stuffed animals, stood empty. The bed was unused, its gray sheets creased with hospital corners. She caught herself in the dresser mirror, and pulled her fuzzy, blue robe tighter around her waist.

  “You’ve redecorated.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I don’t need anything, anymore. If I feel nostalgic…” He waved his hand in the air, creating a white line. He slipped his hand inside, and pulled out a stuffed animal. It was a bright blue, silly looking cow, with vapid, large eyes, and yellow horns. “I can just copy one from memory.”

  She took the cow from his hands. “I bought you this,” she said. She squeezed its fluorescent belly. A tinny speaker inside emitted an electronic moo.

  “Well, it’s not really the one you bought for me.”

  “I know.”

  “Wait,” he said, “let me show you something.” He pointed at the mirror. The reflection of them standing side by side faded. A virt of a cartoony, brightly colored landscape replaced it. The ground was a patchwork quilt that stretched to the horizon. The view zoomed in on two stuffed cows, identical to the one she held in her hand. They butted each other in the stomach, each making the other moo.

  “I wanted to see what their lives would be like, if they were real,” he said. “That’s the only way they can have a conversation. It’s pretty much all they do. I think they’re lonely.” Alyanna touched the glass. “So, I didn’t forget about it, I played with it well into my teens, just on another level.”

  The image faded, revealing their reflections once more. She looked herself over. Her cheeks puffed out from underneath her eyes, her chin sagged, and lines of gray streaked her frazzled hair. She winced. “Reality is too real, now,” she said. “If your cows get to live in cow heaven, why can’t I?”

  “You would rather live in a dream–world paradise?”

  “Hell yes, I’m sick of reality.”

  He put his arm around her. “What would that be like?”

  She leaned her head against him. “I would have you, and your baby sister. And real fresh air, grass, a sky, and trees that weren’t all the same. And I wouldn’t hurt, or be a prisoner, or feel lonely.” She shrugged his arm off. “God, I’m whining. I sound pathetic.” She forced herself to smile, and waved her hands in the air. “I can work again, and I’m so grateful. Thank you for talking me into it.” She kissed his cheek.

  He swallowed. “No problem.”

  She fixed the collar of his polo shirt. “Look at you,” she said. “You’re so handsome. What other clothes do you have in here?” She pulled open the top drawer. She saw his drawing pad, and her smile dropped, her eyes widening.

  It vanished.

  She made little choking noises in the back of her throat. She looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was bright red. He met her gaze for a second, and then turned away.

  The photo–realistic drawing had been of him and Sigma, their naked bodies locked together, her feet braced on his shoulders, her back arched, lips parted in—

  Alyanna shook her head, as if doing so would scrub the image from her mind. The sketch had not been an adolescent fantasy. There had been creases around Sigma’s eyes and mouth, freckles on her breasts, and small clumps of cellulite on her otherwise admittedly athletic thighs. “Matthew,” she said, her voice a whisper, “have you been intimate with her?”

  He folded his arms. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Oh my God,” she said, “just what is going on here?”

  He stared at the featureless ceiling. “Please leave,” he said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She grabbed his upper arm. “You look at me when I’m talking—”

  The world blinked, and she found herself in the hallway. She clenched her fists, ignoring the momentary dizziness behind her eyes. That cybernetic bitch had manipulated her body that way once, she would be damned if she let her own son do it to her as well. She tried the doorknob. It was locked.

  “Open this door,” she said, pounding her fist on the wood. “Open this door now.” She twisted the knob again, and pushed.

  The door flew open. The room was empty.

  “Matthew,” she said, her voice reverberating off the bare walls. There was no reply. “Sigma?”

  No one answered. She heard a noise behind her, and spun around.

  Bananas bounded into the room, and licked her hands. Alyanna crouched, and hugged her. The dog had evolved in here, changed by the Sage. She still scampered, full of happiness and energy, but she was no longer the vapid, drooling idiot Alyanna had painted all those years ago. She scratched Bananas behind her ears as the retriever nuzzled her face.

  “At least someone here is happy to see me,” she said. She climbed the stairs to her studio, and slammed the door behind her.

  Matthew sculpted his new world.

  He stood at the edge of a volcano, allowing its noxious, roiling plumes of black smoke to roast his face. The thick, sulfurous stench of rotten eggs burned his nose and throat. He closed his eyes, and let the blistering heat rage through his body. He slashed his hands up and down, a maestro conducting a symphony. The magma spun at his command, dancing in lazy arcs and fractured spurts.

  Stay, he thought, and the twisted, bubbling arch held its shape in the putrid air. He followed its supports with his eyes to the crater floor. He stared into the lava, mesmerized by the swirling fractals of glowing scarlet.

  He dove.

  The boiling slag raged about him, infusing his body with raw, primal energy. This was the core power of the cosmos, to sculpt ore and rock by the force of his will. He shook with agony as the flames seared his nerves.

  “Are you trying to harm yourself?”

  He raised his head to see Sigma peering over the crater’s edge. The wind whipped her uniform against her body, silhouetting her flawless contours through the crimson haze. The desire to tear it off her, to feel her slender warmth against him again, surged through his spine like a bolt of lightning.

  Keep it down, whispered a voice in the back of his mind, that’s exactly how she wants you to feel. He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, “I deserve to hurt.”

  Her expression fell. “Come up here, please,” she said, “I can’t take it.” He closed his eyes, filling his lungs with the scalding fumes. “Please, Matthew?”

  He rose from the pit, and landed beside her. She placed her hand on his burning skin, and jerked it back. He formed a bubble of cool, clean air around them, and she gave an involuntary sigh of relief.

  “How much more time do I have?” he asked.

  “You don’t,” she said. “She will definitely miscarry if we don’t intervene. If you help us, you and your mother can spend your lives here. I have the general’s promise that he will only farm the embryo for three years, with a new process that will
not result in dependency. After that time, we will alter the DNA of one of her cloned zygotes, including the sex. If we are successful, she will be released, and the altered embryo will be our new template. Your sister will then develop alongside her last generation of clones. If your mother is mentally fit to accept the truth, she will be informed, and they will be reunited.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “The baby will be lost, your mother will be evicted and most likely incarcerated, and your painting will be locked away in darkness.”

  Matthew snorted. “Then you’re lying to me, or you’re willfully naive. You might get rid of us, but the general will definitely try to get the baby first, with or without my help.”

  Her mismatched eyes twitched. “I would never lie to you,” she said.

  “Then he lied to you,” said Matthew. “Why did he send you to threaten me, instead of coming himself?”

  An explosion of crimson lightning crackled overhead amongst the ashen clouds, illuminating her face. The sight of it made his heart jump into his throat. There were lines there, each he knew carved by some private torment, but they displayed her inner strength as well: the strength to overcome, and go on living. In that, he saw elegance and beauty.

  She wiped the sweat from her glistening forehead with the back of her hand. “It’s the only way we can be together,” she said. “I would be very sad not to have you in my life, now.”

  He formed a vision amidst the fire and pitch. Within, the insects of the West scrabbled over one another, devouring their way through the cities and fields of NorMec. Decomposing bodies lay in the streets, twisted from disease. The mutants descended upon a dead civilization, driven by their communal obsession: to win a war long passed. They ate, and the cities fell. They ate, and shat a pulp of metal, stone, vegetable, and flesh. They laid their eggs in the pulp, and new monsters were born, their brains infused with nanomachines.

  “Don’t threaten me,” he said, “and don’t pretend to love me. I have to help. If I don’t, this will happen to her, my sister, you, me, 0800, everyone. This is the only way there would be hope. And then, she’ll hate me forever.”