by Gord Zajac
Karnage roared back. He lobbed a triad of goober grenades in a circle around him. Mountains of goober swelled up, hemming him in, but keeping the Spragmites at bay. All the while, his Sanity Patch rocketed up the Sanity Levels: Coral Essence, Frosty Pink, Strawberry Shortcake—
He was done.
Karnage dropped the rifle and braced himself as the first of the Spragmites swarmed over the peaks of goober and threw himself at Karnage. Karnage sidestepped out of the way, only to catch a second Spragmite in his arms. Karnage staggered back under the weight, and tripped over a fallen Spragmite behind him. More Spragmites piled on top of him as they continued to pour down over the mountains of goober. Karnage quickly disappeared under the pile as more and more cultists threw themselves on. The air was forced from his lungs as the pile grew heavier. The last of his oxygen burned out of his system. The world grew dark. Get the job done, Stumpy! Get the job done!
Karnage blacked out.
CHAPTER FIVE
Karnage woke in Camp Bailey’s stockade. Shafts of yellow light poured in through the windows. He looked outside and saw floodlights illuminating the streets and buildings. Far in the distance, he could hear the angry muttering of the generator still cranking out the juice. Karnage smiled. It’s all up to you now, Stumpy.
“Good. I see you’re finally awake.”
Karnage turned around. There in the cell beside his was a woman dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and fancy cocktail dress. Despite the ludicrous contrast between the shirt and the dress, somehow she made it work. Her brown eyes stayed fixed on the book in her lap. She spoke without looking at him.
“There’s a D-pad in the wall just to your right that is watching our every move. They keep the sound turned off in here, but I suggest you show far less interest in me, lest they decide to move you and ruin your only chance of escape.”
From the corner of his eye, Karnage saw the familiar shape of a D-shaped lens hanging from the wall. He lay back in his bed and looked out the window.
“You can take direction,” she said. “Good. I take it we have you to thank for all this lovely electricity?”
“You might.”
She sighed, and flipped a page in her book. “My dear Captain, you have, at most, an hour to live. If you want to have any chance of leaving this complex alive, then I suggest you be as straight with me as possible. You are the gentleman who fired up the generators, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I offer my congratulations to you, Captain. Melvern had always intended to start up those generators himself. It’s a shame he never figured out how to get them to work. He must be very angry with you.”
“Who’s Melvern?”
She held up her book, revealing it to be another copy of Awaken The Worm Within. She discretely pointed to the blue-haired man on the cover. “He prefers to be referred to as the High Prophet. No doubt you’ve seen his pudgy face floating around the compound.”
Loud squiggling screeches rattled the bars, followed by a woman’s terrified scream in the distance. Karnage sat up in his bunk. “What was that?”
She didn’t bother to look up. “That is the fate that awaits you unless you listen to me very carefully.”
“Was that The Worm?”
“Yes.”
Karnage sprang to the window. “I’ve got to get near that thing!”
“I’m beginning to see why you are wearing the remains of a straitjacket. Do you have a death wish, Captain? If not, then please sit down. You are drawing attention to yourself again.”
Karnage sat down. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Captain’?”
“Why wouldn’t I call you ‘Captain?’ You’re ex-military, aren’t you?”
Karnage scowled. “What the hell makes you think I’m exmilitary?”
The woman sighed. “There’s that poker face again. Let’s go over the facts, shall we? You successfully infiltrated this camp without detection. With very little effort, you were able to get the emergency generators up and running. You are obviously very familiar with the layout of this complex and the technology herein. Not to mention the havoc you caused before being captured. Suffice to say, Captain, you could not have announced your military credentials any louder if you had ridden into this compound on a white horse wearing full dress uniform while rattling your sabre. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“I suppose it does.”
“Good. As you learn more about me, Captain, you will find that I am quite clever. It is only through the most embarrassing series of events that I have ended up in this prison. This is, however, quite fortunate for you, as I am the only person in this compound who can get you out of here alive.”
“And why is that?”
“Up until a few months ago, I was the High Priestess of the Church of Spragmos. You, however, may call me Tristan.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“You’re a terrible liar. I don’t blame you, though. I wouldn’t be pleased to make anyone’s acquaintance in here, either.”
“How are you going to help me escape?”
“I helped Melvern build this religion from the ground up. We used to rule it side-by-side until he got it into his deluded little head that I was planning to depose him and take control of it for myself.”
“Were you?”
“Of course. And I cannot tell you how put out I am that he successfully outmanoeuvred me. If I believed in Fate, I would say she had a hand in this. Fortunately, I do not. Melvern merely got lucky. But now that you’re here, his luck is about to change.”
“Why? What’s so special about me?”
“You, my good Captain, are about to become the Messiah.”
CHAPTER SIX
Tristan read from her book. “‘And he who has truly heard The Word shall step forward and show us The Light. The Guiding Light which will show us The True Path. The True Path to Awaken The Worm Within.’ Et cetera. Ad nauseam. It goes on for quite a while, but I think you get the gist of things.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Have a look outside, Captain. You have brought us The Light.”
Karnage looked out at the floodlights shining in. “That is The Light?”
“Yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“Of course I’m sure. I helped write this book, you know. Why else do we call the generator building The Temple of Light?”
“But why didn’t anyone else figure it out? How come nobody else fixed it first?”
“My dear Captain, you give these people far too much credit.
They’re mindless simpletons, easily led around by their noses. Leave them to fend for themselves, and they’ll wander aimlessly, like cows grazing in a field.”
There was another squiggly screech, followed by a scream. “We are running out of time,” Tristan said. “You will be summoned soon. When you are brought before Melvern, announce that you are the Lightbringer at the earliest possible moment. Once you have been proclaimed the Lightbringer, you will declare me as your High Priestess.”
“Won’t Melvern object?”
“My dear Captain, Messiah trumps High Prophet every time. Melvern won’t know what hit him. Just remember to go in there and give a good performance. This will be broadcast all across the compound. You don’t have quite the right look for television. They prefer them younger, and much more charismatic, but it can’t be helped. You do have a sort of sad quality about the eyes when you’re not trying to look so angry. Try to play that up a bit. You’re the underdog in this production. And everybody loves an underdog.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. No matter what happens, no matter what they say to you, you must remain calm. And stay on message. You are the Lightbringer. You have brought the Light. If you repeat it often enough, it becomes true. That is the magic of television. But only if you don’t lose your temper. No one likes an angry monkey. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try.”
“That�
��s all I can ask of you, then. They’ll be coming for you soon. Good luck, Captain.”
“It’s Major,” Karnage said.
Tristan let slip a small smile. “Is it now? Well then. Good luck, Major.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
They took Karnage to the observation deck of the WTF. Panoramic windows offered a wide view of the pock-marked ground in the canyon below. Remnants of military vehicles lay strewn amidst hillocks of churned earth. A throne stood upon the dais in front of the central window. The room was filled with Spragmites holding D-pads pointed at Karnage. Karnage caught sight of a shock of blue hair off to one side. It was Melvern.
Melvern stood beside a Spragmite holding a microphone who was interviewing him intensely. His face was broadcast on all of the D-Pads hung around the room. He and the interviewer stood in front of a green screen. The monitors around the deck showed them standing in the middle of the testing grounds.
“High Prophet, it has been said that this is our strongest slate of competitors yet. Would you agree?” The interviewer thrust the microphone at Melvern.
Melvern wore a heavy layer of bronze foundation and thick black eyeliner. He looked like a trampy hobo in person, but on the screens behind him, he looked like a golden god. Melvern looked directly into the lens, his gaze sucking in the viewer on the multiple screens. “Miki, I’ve been judging this competition since its inception, and I can say without a doubt that this is the strongest, brightest, most talented slate of candidates we have ever seen. I will be very surprised if the Arbiter doesn’t find someone who is Worthy this year.”
“Do you have any favourites among this year’s candidates?”
The High Prophet laughed. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter what I think at this point. It’s all up to the Arbiter now. As I said, these are all worthy candidates, and if one of them isn’t picked I will truly be surprised.” At this point, he took an exaggerated pause and then shrugged. “But stranger things have happened. The opinions of people like you and I no longer matter. It is now in the hands of The Worm, and as you know . . .” He looked directly into the camera, his blue eyes sparkling against the black eyeliner. He gestured towards the screen with a single knuckle. “. . . The Worm is The Word.”
Miki nodded solemnly. “Mama-oo-pow-pow. Truer words were never spoken. I know you have business to attend to, so thank you for taking the time to speak with us today, High Prophet.”
“Thank you, Miki. It’s been a pleasure. May The Worm be with you.”
“And also with you, High Prophet. Back to you in the studio, Paco.”
The view switched to a Spragmite standing by the throne that Karnage stood in front of. “Thanks, Miki. I’m here in the High Prophet’s chamber where he is about to pronounce judgement on the heretic who was caught rampaging through the compound.”
Paco read off a long litany of crimes Karnage stood accused of while the monitors cut to footage taken from Simon’s D-Pad. Karnage watched as he took down Carlos with a single punch and walked towards the camera in slow motion. The footage ended with a distorted close up on Karnage’s grimacing face. It dissolved to a live shot of Karnage’s face looking at the monitor. The scrolling caption under his face read “HEATHEN BROUGHT TO JUSTICE – LIVE!” Karnage tried to heed Tristan’s advice and did his best to look sad.
Melvern was climbing the dais while Paco provided commentary. “The High Prophet is just ascending to the throne now, Miki. We should be getting a judgement in the next couple of minutes.”
The High Prophet stood before the cameras and raised his arms as if asking for silence. After waiting a beat, he turned with a flourish to Karnage.
“So,” he said. “You are the heathen.”
“So,” Karnage said. “You’re Melvern.”
There were several gasps from the crowd. The captions on the monitors changed to read “HEATHEN BLASPHEMES - LIVE!” A priest wearing a headset ran forward. He pointed a pen at Karnage. “You will refer to His Holiness as the High Prophet!”
The High Prophet stepped down and placed a hand on the priest’s shoulder. “Gently now, Homski. Do not let him suppress your Inner Worm. Remember The Word.”
Homski sighed and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, your Holiness. I will seek guidance from my Inner Worm.”
“As I knew you would.” The High Prophet smiled warmly at Homski, then gently pushed him out of the shot. He turned to the crowd. “This savage has managed to break the majority of our most sacred laws. And in an incredibly short time frame.” The High Prophet turned to Karnage. “That’s quite an accomplishment, friend.”
“I take pride in my work,” Karnage said.
The High Prophet smiled. “And a sense of humour to boot.” He turned grandly towards the cameras. “The Worm has sent us a true test with this one.”
“Buddy, you don’t know the half of it,” Karnage said.
The High Prophet half-turned towards Karnage, ensuring the cameras still got a good shot of his face as he raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then please, do tell.”
Here goes. Karnage cleared his throat. He tried to make sure the cameras got his good side. As it turned out, he didn’t have one. He gave up and blurted out, “I am the Lightbringer.”
The crowd descended into chaos, everyone shouting at once. Faces went white. Others turned to panic. The captions under Karnage’s face changed to “HEATHEN: LIGHTBRINGER? - LIVE!” Karnage fought the urge to grin. Tristan was right. He couldn’t have asked for a better response if he had come running into the room naked with guns blazing.
The only one unfazed by Karnage’s announcement was the High Prophet. He smiled serenely, blinked slowly, and sighed. He turned to the confused congregation and raised his hands. The crowd fell silent.
“Friend,” he reached out an arm toward Karnage, “that is quite the claim. On the face of it, that is indeed what the scriptures would suggest. The Lightbringer is supposed to bring the Light, and you have brought light.”
“That’s right,” Karnage said. “I’m the Lightbringer.”
“Yes,” the High Prophet nodded. “Of a sort.”
“Of a sort?” Homski said. “Could that mean there’s another meaning?”
The High Prophet bowed his head and shook it. “I would not presume to interpret The Word of Spragmos.”
Homski covered his mouth. “Of course not, Your Holiness. I wouldn’t dream—”
The High Prophet raised his hand. “I know, Homski. I know.”
“I brought light,” Karnage said. “That makes me the Lightbringer.” A low murmuring rippled through the crowd like a pebble splashing the surface of a pond.
“Yes, you keep saying that,” the High Prophet said.
Karnage said it again: “I’m the Lightbringer.” The crowd’s murmuring increased. The ripples grew stronger. Karnage wondered how big of a splash he could make.
The High Prophet shot Karnage a dangerous look. “Just because you continue to say it, that does not necessarily make it true.”
“I’m the Lightbringer,” Karnage said.
“Is he the Lightbringer?” Homski asked.
“It’s not my place to say,” the High Prophet said.
“I’m the Lightbringer,” Karnage said.
A fist shot up at the back. “All hail the Lightbringer!”
“See?” Karnage said. “Lightbringer.”
The High Prophet raised his hand. “We shouldn’t rush to hasty conclusions.”
“What should we do, Your Holiness?” Homski asked.
The High Prophet’s face was serene, a stalwart rocky crag on which the crowd’s waves had crashed to no effect. He remained calm. Tranquil. Unperturbed by the storm raging around him. He smiled into the nearest lens. “Why, we should do nothing.”
Homski blinked. “Nothing?”
The caption on the screen changed to “HIGH PROPHET: ‘DO NOTHING’ - LIVE!”
The High Prophet shrugged. “There is nothing for us to do. We are but servants of The Word, and The Word . . .” The
High Prophet leaned into the nearest D-Pad. His face filled the screens. His blue eyes sparkled. “. . . is The Worm.”
The crowd bowed their heads and chanted, “Mama-oo-powpow.”
“But I’m the Lightbringer,” Karnage said. No one paid him any attention. They were too caught up in their Mama-oo-pow-pows.
The screens changed to a two-shot of Karnage and the High Prophet. The caption underneath read “THE WORM IS THE WORD - LIVE!” The High Prophet placed a hand on Karnage’s shoulder. He raised his other hand towards the congregation. “It is no coincidence he was sent to us on Arbiter’s Day, my friends. This is all part of Spragmos’s plan. The Heathen’s claim will be tested by The Arbiter Himself!”
The crowd gasped. The screen caption changed: “HEATHEN: WORTHY? - LIVE!”
“But I’m the Lightbringer,” Karnage said.
The High Prophet put an arm around Karnage. “So you keep saying. But we are mere mortal men. It is not our place to make these decisions. No, The Worm will decide.” The High Prophet gestured towards the audience. “For The Worm is The Word. Mama-oo-powpow!”
“Mama-oo-pow-pow!” The crowd shouted.
The High Prophet grabbed Karnage’s hand and shook it. “Congratulations, friend. You are heading for the Finale. Take him to the Green Room!”
The crowd cheered wildly as the guards led Karnage away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Green Room was an old fallout shelter deep in the bowels of the WTF. As far as Karnage could tell, there was nothing green about it. The walls were a dingy grey and a single LED lantern barely clung to life in the middle of the ceiling. A bench lay along the wall on one end of the room. On the other wall, a large D-pad displayed a steel double-door leading onto the testing grounds.