--My hand was … forced? What do you mean?
--That’s plenty, said Father Miscavige, standing.
(Halo’s attendants walked into the room. Long-necked, cloths wrapped around their waists. Scepter hats, faces masked, eyes exposed.)
--Please! Please, I never want to leave the Goddess again! I screamed at Father Miscavige.
--You’ve sacrificed your humanity to become part of the inner circle, part of our inner world. You’ve done unspeakable things, Hunter; the Southern Council would surely send you to the War Zone. I, we, wish to have mercy on you, said Father Miscavige.
Go, Hunter, said Halo inside my head. This isn’t the last time we will meet.
--You mean it? DO YOU MEAN IT?
A dark sack was placed over my head. The chain of my cuffs scraped against my back as I tried to stand. Run I couldn’t, cry I did.
Life of the forsaken.
.6.
Awake in the cellar, wait for dusk. Night dies at daybreak always dust. The smell of soil and ash, the taste of the sins of the past, the sun and moon dim and dimmer, the Stayed growing thinner in the long months, the Book open in the churches, the Devout on their knees, praying for the facelessness of the Canyon to cease.
Stretch your arms in front of you Hunter and come alive.
To the Goddess I bow, to the east twice, the west twice, the north and the south. The North has taken Halo, the one true Goddess. The false Goddess of the North can press her face in my dirties! Suck my unspeakables! DAMN THE NORTH!
--You must get Halo before she reaches the Off Limits. You are her warrior, her guardian; the people can’t know that she’s been abducted. The people can’t know the truth. The truth is proof that the pudding is weak. The truth shall set no one free.
“Food,” I say, my hand on my muscled stomach. The meat of the faceless is lean. Not many consume human protein. Of course there is only one reason to eat and that is to save. I would eat myself if my reflection gave myself away.
“You’re funny!”
(A funny man in the North is a dead man in the South. A funny man in the South is food for fodder to a father. Ha!)
You’re funny.
“Halo, is that you?”
It is.
“I wish I were as funny as you!” I whisper to the Goddess. I may not see her but that doesn’t mean she isn’t there. Nothing is what it seems in the Canyon. Cliff rock layers upon layers, earth-made prisons don’t get much better. Shale, limestone, red iron layers. Shells from a place beyond our own prayers. Flows of black stone – the Canyon is home.
(Fall on your knees laughing alongside me, Goddess. Please, Halo! We laugh together! We celebrate life together! We champion the liberation of the faceless!)
Night comes, doors close, keep your voice inside your clothes. Seersucker black disguises the fact that I move through the night as the Goddess’ knight vanquishing those who appear in true form delivering them from being deathborn.
I AM ME.
Cellar open and I’m back on the scent. Whoever has taken the Goddess will pay. Sun black night face cover no bother. Everyone in a panic everywhere, no one can find her. The Off Limits vestas ahead, the hands of the North on the Goddess’ head.
Imagining the way they have mishandled her lights my innards, left foot right foot, move like ghosts. Crisscross a shadow, leap over the soil of sinners.
Are you coming?
“I’m coming!” My voice free from my throat scratchy tableau. Stop and pause and listen to movement. A depot in the distance surrounded by men. Listen to their voices, check for facelessness.
--It isn’t your job to liberate once you’ve been unleashed, Father Miscavige said. However, do what you must as long as you’re on your hunt. You must get to her before the Off Limits, otherwise I’ll treat you like the filth you are.
“I am filth!”
No you aren’t.
Voices up front – they speak of the Goddess and how she’s been taken towards the east. My ears awaken as the sound twists through the stale air like finger grazers upon the skin of a lesser man.
(I almost did it, almost went to a flesh dealer the first time I was out.)
“I’m sorry … ” I whisper with my hand over my mouth. “I can … I can punish myself for even thinking it!”
--I’m letting you out because you are the only one who can retrieve the Goddess before she gets to the Off Limits. Once she gets there, she’ll be property of the North, Father Miscavige told me.
--I understand.
--They can’t go a direct route; they’ll need to go to the outer rim of the Canyon, likely to the Eastern Caves, and work their way up. They may make some distance with the motocart they’ve stolen, but patrols are already out along the border. They’ll move at night.
--I move at night.
--Yes, you do, Hunter, and you will find them AND WHEN YOU DO…
(They will suffer for their sin; I will shear their flesh from their hides, squish their eyes, crush their lies with my R Boots until all that’s left is a pulp. The Goddess can watch. Halo will see how much she means to me.)
A moto.
A MOTO.
My eyes don’t fib. The man closest to me has his moto parked near a wall. Unikey in my pocket given to me by Father Miscavige, I creep creep move, shadow to the shadows, back against the wall, throat full of spittle too loud to swallow.
Metalzip vroom vroom by and I get the urge to shout goodbye. Shhhhhh. Silence is golden. Silence is knowledge; what lies in the Empyrean makes itself known through taciturnity. Eternity is a burning flame inside a darkened room on the edge of reality awash in stillness and peace. Become silence and speak only when necessary.
(What about the voices inside my head?)
“DON’T SAY ANYTHING!”
“Who’s there?” The men turn to me.
Cover blown, I straighten my robes and step out into the orange light provided by a lamp yards away. Twitchy smile gets the best of me; I’m stationary, silent, locked in pose. Shiv in hand, away from the light, silhouette clothing.
“Who are you?” one of the men asks. A Southern Lower, evident in is drab garb and the smudge marks on his face.
I clear my throat.
“Why are you covered in blood?” another asks.
The odds are slim that I’ll take all four, the moto is my target anyway. I’m closer, and the unikey will start it with the punch of a button. I’ve just turned when something rattles my patience. A hand lands on my shoulder.
“Where are you going?”
I spin on my heels and the man steps back. The owner of the moto I presume, I allow him his room and I look for the signs that will necessitate an attack.
“Please … ” I whisper as his face blurs.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks, mostly for show. His friends chuckle, step up.
Flash like lightning. No time to react, no time to step back. A fist comes my way and it connects with my jaw. I stumble backwards, spit blood in his direction once I’ve recovered and force him to the ground with a tackle.
“Please,” I scream at the faceless blur in front of me. “PLEASE!”
(I AM DOING THIS FOR YOU, HALO!)
Two of his friends scatter, one stays. No bother – the faceless are my prey. One glance at the approaching man and I see something I’m quite familiar with. Facelessness starts from the neck. It works its way up, swirls around the chin, begins again, vortexes at the nose, swells over the eyelids and reverse drips to the top of the skull.
The faceless are many, the Devout are few. The skewed, the Stayed are one in the same. Liberate your facelessness and the facelessness of those around you. Holy wars begin within. The struggle since the War of the Untold has created rules to be followed and new thresholds to be crossed. The enemy is many, the Devout are few. Which are you? Upper or Lower – the Book is the answer. Unfetter the deathborn, splinter the cancer.
My shiv and fury go to work on the faceless sucker puncher. The man
approaching turns and runs.
.7.
(Stab stab stab. Finish the job. Feel my madness!)
The man is face up, blowing frothy bubbles through punctured lungs. Violence is an integral part of the Canyon; I merely perform my role as I roll the faceless man onto his stomach, stomp the back of his skull until I’ve planted his teeth.
(I did this for you.)
I didn’t ask for you to kill for me.
“HE WAS FACELESS!” I whisper-scream at what’s left of the moon.
You must find me, Hunter. The faceless can be liberated another day.
I drop to my knees and use my shiv to take a sliver of flesh. The man, not quite dead yet, gurgles and twitches until I silence him with a thrust and twist. I eat enough to suffice. Move I do, to the moto the unikey in hand.
--You will need a unikey, said Father Miscavige. Do you remember what I taught you when you were young?
--Which lessons, Father?
--To drive a moto.
--That was long ago.
--You’ve never failed me; you’ve never failed the Church of the South; you’ve never failed Halo the Goddess.
--I will never.
--Then you must take this, drive to the direction that they’re reported to have gone. The Eastern Caves. Destroy whoever has done this and do whatever you’d like with these faceless BLASPHS! Father Miscavige slammed his fist in his hand.
--I will. I WILL!
--And bring Halo back here. She can’t reach the border; we don’t want OL Officers involved.
Hurry, Hunter.
“Goddess, you speak?” I look around, grasping for any sign to prove that what I’ve heard, what I feel in my heart is right. “Are you there? Are you with me?”
I am always with you, you know that.
“I am coming for you.”
I am waiting for you.
“I am filth.”
You are more than filth.
“I love you, Halo.”
I love you too, Hunter.
On the moto I go.
Unikey activates and I kick my foot down. Wheels on gravel, roads unravel. Move east like a zephyr towards Halo’s whisper. The Book says what the Book says and I listen. Quotes come and I soak them in. To meet an old friend is to begin again. To become Devout is without a doubt the most powerful thing a person of the Stayed can do. What are you? What will you become? When extinction comes will you be the type to see the truth?
“I will see the truth!” I shout as I increase my speed.
Break through to break in. Move through to move out. Jump through to jump in. Remain Devout.
Wind, beat my face, forgive me for what I’ve shown you in the last few days. Wind, tear my eye, pull back my lips. Wind, pass over my finger tips and curl up my arms. Deliver me from harm, Goddess, deliver me from harm. I am not a killer; I am a liberator. I am your protector, Father Miscavige’s Goddess collector, the preserver of the Devout.
(You’ve become something else entirely.)
Silence that voice and hurry, dear Hunter, hurry east.
Wind blows the tears into the corners of my eyes and dries them before I can wipe them away. “Goddess I am coming for you! Guide me, Halo!”
.STERLING.
.1.
Somehow it worked.
As he sits in the mouth of a western cave, Sterling, a gambling Upper from the North, replays the capture of Halo in his mind.
Bolt had just stepped up to greet her when something took over. Sterling was suddenly behind her, his hand on her waist and his shiv at her throat. But how? When did he get the speed of a lizard? When had he ever moved in such a confident way?
He had no doubt about what happened next, but that didn’t make it any less bizarre. The sentries instantly sprinted for him, tangled their feet in their robes and fell flat on their faces. Every time they stood, they’d step, stumble on their robes and prostrate themselves full length. The noise of the crowd vanished; the mothers and fathers and the sick and injured children closed their mouths, dropped their arms to their sides, and formed an aisle from the dais to the exit.
Halo was weightless in his arms as he carried her out of the Church of the South through the mass of immobile humanity. Her clothing was mostly gone, something Sterling didn’t remember seeing happen and her skin was warm to the touch. Bolt took the lead, stepping quickly and confidently through the multitude. A motocart was conveniently parked directly outside the church. Bolt used his unikey, started it, and Sterling climbed into the back with Halo.
As they made their escape, a few motos gave chase, but they swerved and overturned whenever they got close. Sterling couldn’t believe his sheer luck. Something otherworldly had happened, something beyond him and the scope of anything he’d ever experienced.
“There’s just no way … ”
An entire day has passed and for all Sterling can tell, he’s been asleep most of it. He has tried speaking to the Goddess …
“Halo, she’s not the Goddess,” he reminds himself.
He has tried speaking to her, but every time he does, drowsiness washes over him, and this is why he currently stands outside the cave. Night is approaching and they’d better move soon. Orange dusk. The Canyon is quiet along its outer rim, much quieter than it should be.
“Are you all right?” Sterling turns to find Bolt.
“Fine. Were we … really asleep for a day?”
“I think so,” says Sterling. “Maybe it was a result of shock. What happened in the church … You know, I haven’t told you, but you did some good driving back there.”
“Really?” Bolt visibly swells with pride.
“Real good.”
“Why didn’t anyone chase us?”
“What do you mean?” Sterling asks. “They did, on their motos.”
“No, they didn’t,” says Bolt.
Sterling tries to recall what happened, but the events are faded and blurred and hover just beyond his grasp. “I thought they did. Didn’t they?”
“They went the other way,” Bolt explains, “To the east.”
“Some of them crashed their motos.”
“I didn’t see that happen.”
Sterling shrugs, kicks at a rock. “Well, it’s over; that’s all that matters. What’s she doing?”
“Sitting in the cave in the same position she’s been in for at least a day.”
“Why do we keep falling asleep?”
Bolt nods at the cave.
“She’s not the Goddess, dammit.”
***
“All right, Halo, it’s time to talk.” Sterling stands at the entrance of the cave, a good twenty feet away from the Southern Goddess. She sits cross-legged on a large rock, her legs covered by her torn dress. Her skin shines clear in the darkened cave; her face is still concealed by her Blinders.
“Drop the silent act,” Sterling says, taking a step closer to her.
Bolt appears behind him. “Is she saying anything yet?”
Halo lays her hands in her lap, cradles one palm with the other. She does so with a flowing, effortless grace that somehow makes Sterling feel that she’s mocking him.
“Enough.” He lifts his foot to take a step and encounters an invisible barrier. “Dammit.” He tries again, with the same result.
Halo’s lips curve into a smile.
“I told you she was powerful,” Bolt whispers, behind him.
Sterling turns. “Listen, kid, whatever she’s doing, it’s just some type of … some type of … ” He’s about to say magic, but that would mean he believed in the Southern Goddess and he doesn’t. “Trick. You try to approach her.”
With a single shove, he sends the kid stumbling forward, right through the invisible barrier. Bolt spins on his heels, moves back to Sterling’s side.
His shiv in his hand, Sterling approaches the invisible barrier carefully, stabs at thin air. He nearly loses his balance, catches himself just in time.
Bolt laughs.
“Not funny, kid.”
Bolt yawns.
“See,” Sterling says, “she’s doing something. Listen, Halo, no more sleepy games.” He yawns as well. “Dammit, not again.”
Bolt sits with his back against the cave wall, slides down, curls onto his side and dozes off.
Sterling goes to one knee. “Dammit … ” His grip loosens and his shiv plinks against the rocky soil.
Halo’s demure expression boils his blood.
“Fuck you … ” He’s on hands and knees and just about to hit the ground for another involuntary nap as his hand brushes against a jagged, fist-sized rock. He underhands it; the stone spins off his fingers as he snaps his wrist.
Halo’s shriek of fear, surprise and pain is a silent thunderbolt that strikes him right between the ears, within his skull, at the epicenter of his psyche, and his first instinct after it’s stopped is to touch his ears to see if they’re bleeding. His second is to ensure that he hasn’t inadvertently soiled himself. He’s dizzy, nauseated, and unsure if he can rise to his feet.
“What … was that!?” Bolt is up now, hands over his ears and panic in his eyes.
Gone is the Southern Goddess’ meditative pose.
***
“You’ll be all right, Halo.” Sterling swallows hard. The Goddess is bent forward, clutching her shoulder. Her hand comes off her shoulder, a smear of blood on her palm.
What did you do to me!?
Sterling looks around, tries to pinpoint the voice.
“Who said that?”
I AM BLEEDING!
“Do you hear that?” he asks Bolt.
“Hear what?”
You threw a rock at me!
“Shit … it’s … it’s her!” Sterling backpedals away from her, runs himself into the cave wall next to Bolt. Neither he nor the kid seem able to get off the ground.
“What’s her?” the kid asks.
The Zero Patient Trilogy (Book One): (A Dystopian Sci-Fi Series) Page 7