Allegory of Pain (The Unearthed Series Book 2)

by Marc Mulero

  "If I hold this button down long enough, the nerves in your spine will deteriorate and you will become paralyzed. No need to let it come to that."

  She released her finger from the button and crouched down to meet him at eye level. "Shall we begin?"

  Kids of all ages frolicked through the main floor of the Senation fortress, where fear ruled not so long ago. The bloodshed had nearly been forgotten, and was slowly being replaced by an unending string of children’s laughter. They chased one another, running and jumping out of Cherris’ wagon like it was a playground, all while adults worked to make their community better. A sense of safety bolstered this, formed by a place that everyone could now call home. Such an accomplishment gave Blague a moment’s peace as he watched on, before a familiar flood of uncertainty washed over him once more.

  “Orin said he would return within a ‘short period of time,’ whatever that means,” Cherris shrugged while gently combing out the knots in a little girl’s hair.

  “Great. Just when I was hoping to get some answers…” Blague stood over them scratching his chin. “Well, which way did he depart?”

  “Through the back doors. Ah-” Cherris made a playfully scolding noise to make the little girl wriggling in her seat sit still. “I’m almost done, Resna, I promise!”

  Blague looked to the back doors and eyed the fighters guarding the entranceway.

  He can’t avoid me forever.

  She pursed her lips. "Are Lito and Oscin alright? Eugene was mumbling to himself about it on the way up to his room. What’s going on?"

  He stood pensively, silently, before glancing at his radio. “No word yet, but I have faith in Lito… there’s greatness in him. A resilient commander, so full of life. And as for Oscin, that tornado has Lady Luck on his side. They’ll pull through.”

  Cherris failed to hide the worry in her eyes. “Look around, Blague. Things are moving fast… perhaps too fast. Hmm? One mislaid brick could send our rebellion toppling do-” she sighed. “There I go again… apologies.”

  He waved the sorrow away. “We’re defended here. And we can handle the drought in Bulchevin.”

  She looked unconvinced.

  “We have the water to transport, Cherris. The electricity, well that’s a different story. That fortress isn’t a research facility like this one. It’s more like a military post, so the Hiezers can afford to shut it down I suppose. And if they do, we don’t have the generators to spare. But we will make do when the time comes.”

  "What are we going to do?" she asked. "It'd be too dangerous to transport the Bulchevin Sins here."

  "Yes, that would also defeat the whole purpose of expanding our reach. We need allies in the higher classes that have access to these vital resources. That's the only way to solve this problem."

  "But who? Biljin? The Aura?”

  Blague pondered the options.

  Cherris snapped her tongue. "We’re getting too far ahead of ourselves. Bless Lito's heart. I'm worried, and I know Eugene is, too. Our prayers need to stay on him.”

  Blague placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before dismissing himself. "I'm worried, too. Perhaps it’s time to go pay my brother a visit and see what I can do."

  Cherris lightly pushed the girl up from her lap and said, "All done!”

  "Thanks, mama," Resna replied.

  Cherris blushed and drew in her breath, patting the girl’s back for her to move along. "I'll do my best to keep my head up, Blague."

  “Thank you, Cherris. You’re the glue holding this community together. Don’t ever forget that,” he said before turning away.

  The Aura spend their days worshiping and fantasizing, but to what end? They saved us in the assault on Old New York, but can they be relied on for anything more? I suppose my meeting with Jen will answer these questions. Though the rest of the Aura members seem lost, possessed by the idea of power. I hope there's more to them than that.

  And the Hiezers… the capture of my brother makes them less predictable. What’s even worse, the chaos that comes with it will result in more Sin losses. The bombs over Lito’s head are proof. And now I stand here, about to try reasoning with a sociopath. Round and round we go.

  Blague returned from his world of thought to find Mulderan standing firmly with his back to him in fitted, torn up garb. The sight evoked Déjà vu of the minutes leading to Elaina’s death. Calmness and certainty in the Highest Lord’s stance reminded his Sin brother of how calculated he was, no matter the situation. Even now, in prison, he appeared in control of it all.

  "Do you remember my mother, Blague?" Mulderan asked, knowing full well who had walked into the cell lot.

  Blague's brow furrowed from the painful recollection. "It doesn't matter what age I live to, those memories withstand the passage of time."

  "Father sure knew how to pick them back then.” Mulderan turned to face his younger half-brother.

  "Yeah well, he had no idea that she took her work home with her."

  "Perhaps not. But to wed a Special Forces torture specialist, and him being a wild world traveler at the time - not the best odds for growing up in a stable environment," Mulderan’s voice remained steady as he stepped closer to the bars separating them.

  "Why so nostalgic? Don't you have an agenda to work on?"

  "I've had plenty of time to focus on both in here. I guess seeing you one on one triggered some old memories. You remind me of The Great Orin," Mulderan mocked.

  "I don't know why, since you look more like him than I do."

  Mulderan peered toward the floor, still stuck on his past. "The Ripper, I believe they called her," he pretended to almost forget.

  "A fitting name," Blague played along for the time being.

  “Do you remember? We couldn’t have even reached our teens yet when we made that terrible mistake. Boys, trespassing into an abandoned warehouse? Heaven forbid us from being curious. Hmph. It was almost worth it, too. Father’s corporate secrets were just inches from our grasp.” Mulderan lifted his cold gaze, looking oddly devious.

  Blague stared back at him, digging deep into his past. "Until she caught us, locking us in her dungeon to have fun with her favorite tool. I remember a patch of my skin being flayed off with one touch of that spinning razor."

  "That’s one of my most vivid memories,” Mulderan replied. “It ripped such a large slice off that it got caught in the blade and stopped it from spinning. She made it a point to judge us closely, to be sure we learned our lesson."

  "That basement was built on nightmares. Green rotted cinderblock surrounded all four walls, with two white fluorescent lights and a triple dead-bolted door. Not an easy memory to forget. Your mother left far more than scars on our bodies."

  "That brings me to my point," Mulderan said as he took a final step forward. "What did you gather from her scolding?"

  Blague’s Cryos blue tattoo began to shimmer. “The most monumental lesson of my life. On that day, I told myself that if I survived this punishment, I’d act to save others from demons like her. Because that’s what she was, Mulderan - a demon. No one should have to suffer the way she made us suffer. A childish thought, huh? But I guess I have her to thank for what I am today. She wrote the code that I live by, and you sealed it.”

  Mulderan laughed; the chilling, sadistic sound coming from him sent a shiver down Blague’s spine.

  Wes sat uncomfortably facing the wall with gaping eyes, hanging on to every word spoken from the Grenich brothers.

  "How can two minds have such contrary views of one experience?" Mulderan asked when his laughter died down. "That was a paramount ordeal for me, too. My mother taught me a great truth in that instance. She taught me that the nature of a person is the most absolute aspect of them. And that resisting such nature was a futile effort. The proof was right there in front of us. The Ripper couldn’t resist inflicting pain, even on her own flesh and blood. That's the day that changed everything for me. That’s when I embraced my own true calling. I realized that the greatest good can be
obtained, and that I'm the one who will achieve it."

  "Then you were a twisted soul even before the trauma. The Ripper's blood must run deep in your veins."

  "It's a shame, really. We could have embarked on this journey together. If only you could let go of your trivial ideals." Mulderan slowly turned to face the block wall. "You know, these walls won't keep me forever."

  Blague crept closer and wrapped his fingers around the bars, finding that the time had come to reveal what he wanted from his brother: to save Lito. "They're bombing the Ayelan that we placed with the soldiers in Bulchevin."

  Mulderan’s jaw trembled for a second, like he’d just heard of a loved one’s passing. But then he dialed it back, breathing a short sigh to resume composure. "Even if that's so, I won't call it off. The future of this world rests in buildings like these. If the highlords want to throw away their chance at longevity, so be it."

  A bluff, just like mine. He’s boiling inside, I can see it – his clenching jaw, pursed lips. All the tells give it away. The chemical is the key to his crazed future. There’s no way he would let it be destroyed. This is my only shot to save Lito.

  "I can open a line to your lords right now. Call off the strike, Mulderan. It's in both of our best interests."

  Mulderan turned his head toward Blague so he could better hear him.　"It's time to end your movement, brother. The Sins must burn."

  Oscin dropped his gun to take a nervous swig from his flask. He pushed sweaty hair away from his face and rubbed dirt from his bloodshot eyes.

  This isn’t how I pictured myself dying.

  He looked to his right, beyond his protectors and the fortress wall that kept his body somehow intact, to the mess of smoke and body parts left from the latest air drop. The rolling shield that had so much life behind it just minutes ago was now dented and seared… broken, like the Sins that dared to challenge. A mark of defeat. What was it all for now? His hands quivered from the fear spreading throughout his exhausted body. He was trapped. Closed in. Out of options.

  A quick turn to face straight ahead was more of the same – a row of ten fighters on their knees in front of him, aiming their rifles high toward exposed windows like cornered animals, wanting, praying that they could hold off the Hiezer guards who would peer out. Madness mixed with terror was a sorry sight. Silent moans like crying hounds, indistinct muttering, twitches. It was over. They could all feel it.

  Where was that last drink? When alcohol failed him, his drunken gaze shifted in search of sanity, to Lito, who was more serious than he’d ever seen him, and then to Brower, who was heavy of breath from his wound… yet another reminder of what was to come.

  A hot breeze blew the stench of death with it. Over, and over again, Hiezer-ordered airstrikes rattled the ground beneath them.

  Fuck. I don’t want to go. Not like this. Pick yourself up, you drunk asshole. He grabbed his gun and tried to talk himself out of the crippling distress. You can make it, but you have to fight. Get. Up.

  The bombardment of projectiles from Uldan's “sword” had already ceased, leaving only the sound of whistling fighter jets in the distance. The unnerving silence haunted them.

  "Uldan, abandon the tower!" Lito commanded, hearing the jets make their rounds back into the area.

  "We're moving, we're moving!" Uldan called back.

  Then, out of nowhere, a surge of hope dispelled Oscin’s nerves and sobered his senses. He had to be sure that it wasn’t a mirage. His finger blindly tapped at Lito’s face while his eyes were glued to the tank-made hole in the defensive wall.

  Lito turned his head and felt the same surge of relief. Their prayers had been answered in the form of a rioting Sin crowd charging forward. Thousands strong and hundreds weak, all Bulchevin natives. He couldn't believe his eyes. They carried the same temperament as the others – hot-blooded and desperate. Able men and women barreled on the frontlines, while more senior natives and younger civilians trailed from the rear.

  A chorus of warring voices was briefly masked by the jets soaring overhead. Carpet bombs followed, streaking the aircrafts’ paths from below and leaving Uldan's mortar tower in a shambled inferno.

  “The next round will target the crowd,” Lito’s voice was panic-stricken. “We have to go, now. We have to get inside those walls.”

  Brower thought about how he’d spent his whole life in Bulchevin as an exile, staying low and making the best of a dingy existence. There was a tribal sense of unity amongst despair: quiet laughter in the cool caves, hiding from Hiezer footsteps above them, sharing a roast with families when the coast was clear, stories of close calls and small triumphs. The sight of all of those familiar faces now, charging out in the open, toward glory, reflecting every emotion imaginable through his heart.

  He forgot to breathe, choked by a concoction of terror and adrenaline surging within him. A determined frown stretched his face. He straightened defiantly against his wound and said, "Protect these people, Lito. They need you."

  Lito turned from the charging crowd to Brower. "We will," he assured, "together."

  Commotion at the front doors triggered Oscin to lift his rifle into position, mustering up the courage to fight. Though, it left him trembling for what came next - Hiezers rushing out in response to the massive ambush of Sins, falling into position and opening fire unto the masses.

  Brower immediately stiffened. "I have to do this alone. Remember what I asked of you!" He burst into a sprint and turned the corner.

  Pushing as fast as he could with his debilitating limp, he summoned a strength from within that could only be found once. Every stride propelled him faster.

  "Brower, get back here!" Lito shouted. Realizing it was too late, he broke cover and readied himself to fire.

  Oscin gulped and followed his commander into the open. "What's that crazy bastard doing?" He kneeled in firing position next to Lito.

  “Protecting his people… the best way he can.” Lito swallowed past a lump in his throat.

  A Hiezer guard strayed his aim from the approaching crowd to the tall, stout man charging his enemies head-on.

  A shot to the shoulder jerked Brower back like a dog tugged by its leash. The momentary daze nearly cost him his footing, but he was no stranger to a bullet wound, and if this was to be his last hurrah, then there was no way he would let it stop him. He shook off the stars and trucked on, bullets now whizzing in the opposite direction – from his backside, Lito and Oscin, angels over his shoulder. Two, four, six blurs before one split through the alerted guard’s neck.

  This earned a smirk from the selfless hero, knowing he had friends watching over him, granting him this small window of opportunity needed. Before any of the other enemies could take note, it was already too late. He leapt with an ungodly push of one leg, launching himself and clearing the height of the guards at his forefront like some magnificent pole vaulter. His face scrunched, pins of two grenades pulled, and out swooped his arms with timed explosives in each hand. A swan dive that ended by piling onto the center of their ranks.

  A moment of panic – flailing, loosening grips to detach from their shields and guns, unintelligible grunts spewing from instincts – every ounce of everybody telling them to run. All but Brower’s. It was a mere second. And that’s all it took before the explosion shook the ground and vaporized the Hiezer guards into a puff of smoke.

  Oscin’s mouth was agape, and when he tried to close it, his teeth clattered. Awe struck his body hard. How could someone make such a sacrifice? It was madness. For what?

  “Charge!” Lito shouted to the Sins behind him.

  Then it clicked. Oscin realized that although Lito was the banner for all to flock to, it was Brower who was the memorial… the reason to push on, the memory meant to draw everyone together again. He blinked to see Lito step forward into a powerful sprint, radio to his mouth.

  “Charge!” he yelled once more, eyes wet with despair.

  The wild Bulchevin natives were now in earshot of Lito and his crew. Like a ta
il, they curved to rally behind the Sin commander – “Charge!”

  This is like Briggs’ death all over again.

  "Move, puto, move," Lito reminded himself, alternating his lanky legs. His feet kicked up grass with every slammed step.

  The Bulchevin fortress grew more intimidating as they approached its front entrance. Rising black spikes dipped in gold resembled the mouth of a demon, and beyond that, they were storming into the belly of hell. But everyone knew deep down, that a dark and ambiguous fate was better than certain death from above. The clock was ticking. Jets aligned.

  Lito strafed across the open access point like a lanky pendulum ticking life away, firing at the incoming Hiezers attempting to exit, rattling armor and bleeding out what wore it. Even Oscin found the courage to stop and stick his gun around the door, only risking one arm when Bulchevin had already given an ocean of hearts, but it was a start. The weapon shook in his grasp like a chainsaw going haywire while he blindly sprayed the interior. They then curbed their weapons to make way for the determined Sins bolting past them, overwhelming whatever Hiezer soldiers remained in their way.

  The first checkpoint had been reached with overwhelming numbers – a crowd that may as well have been a stampede trampling through a valley, lying waste to any and all on the ground level. But then there were those stationed above – the last stand – halting momentum by blowing sections of civilians to the floor with high-powered rounds and explosives.

  Even with all of that, Lito’s attention was still outside. It was the inbound natives. Innocents. And all he could do was motion for them to hurry in. Now that the pillagers were already inside, he was herding sheep, the weak, standing on his tiptoes to peer over them all, to see how many batches were left.

  Too many.

  Uldan fell into the mix, surrounded by four Sin protectors, followed by the rest of his small group. They all rushed to get to Lito's position, but the sound of roaring jets crept closer. The next rotation was imminent.

  "No, they won’t make it,” Lito whispered to himself, and then bellowed into the sea of anxious faces, “C'mon, rápido!"