After Darkness II

by J. F. Johns

  The images vanished and the kitchen returned to its normal state. No shadows, no darkness or figures. What had she just seen? Terra touched her eye, the black one with some of the Destroyer's power swirling within it. Had it shown her something that had happened?

  'Terra.'

  Kalem appeared in the doorway, his mother behind. Neither of them looked at all concerned about the blood. Terra pointed towards it. 'What...?'

  'There was an incident,' Camille explained. Piles of towels were in her arms and she dropped them over the floor in frustration. 'This is going to take forever to clean up.'

  'An incident?'

  'Petra brainwashed a girl to slit her own throat,' Camille said, her voice tired. 'Well, it wasn't technically Petra. More like Viktor.'

  Terra started shaking at the realisation. 'She did what?' If Petra could do such a thing, then she could hurt Terra at any moment she desired. She could force her to stab her own heart out, to make the others dine on it as she lay across the kitchen table with an open chest. And what she had just seen? It clearly depicted what Camille said had happened.

  Suddenly someone was gripping her arms and Terra glanced up at Kalem. The shaking stopped almost immediately. He didn't say anything at all, but words weren't necessary. It was easy to tell he was worried, and normally Terra would've brushed anyone away, annoyed at their pity. Now, now she held on to any help she could get. Scarlet had said that being trapped by the Destroyer had felt like drowning and Terra could understand such a feeling. After everything Petra had done to her, a part of her soul had been killed. She no longer was the strong big-headed Terra she had been before. Now she was a shell of that very person, wondering if she'd ever feel strong and brave again.

  Kalem pulled her into a chair and Camille placed a cold glass of water in front of her, forgetting the pile of towels soaking up blood just a few feet away. 'You wanna talk about it?' the blonde cyborg said, grabbing a chair, twisting it around and sitting on it, her arms resting on the backrest.

  Terra shook her head.

  'Look, I don't know what it's like to go through what you went through,' Camille said. 'But everyone has endured some shit or other and all I can say is this; time makes everything pass.' Noticing that Terra didn't seem inclined to drink the water, Camille snatched it up and chugged it down. 'I know that probably sounds like bullshit and it's the last thing you wanna hear right now, but it's true. You'll get over it, Terra.'

  Tears began to form behind her eyelids and she looked away, embarrassed at crying in front of them.

  'It's okay to fall sometimes,' Camille continued.

  'What if I can't get back up?' Terra turned her attention towards her shoes, her hands turning into fists on her lap as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  'Then one of us will just pick you back up.'

  Kalem stood and left the kitchen, leaving Terra to wonder curiously where he had gone. She wouldn't look up because the tears wouldn't stop falling and she couldn't bear to look at anyone in such a state.

  A few minutes later something appeared in her line of vision. Rubbing her face furiously to wipe away the tears, she gasped softly at what was in front of her.

  Kalem stood by her side, holding a sketchbook right up to her nose. The gesture would've been thoughtful if it wasn't for the fact that the object was getting wet from Terra's tears. She leaned back, snatching the sketchbook from his robotic hand. 'What is this?' she asked, frowning. She knew what it was, but couldn't understand why he was offering it to her.

  'You like to draw.'

  Terra's frown deepened. 'How did you know...?' She shut up realising what a stupid question that was. Glancing back down at what she held, her fingers tightened around the edges. She had never held a sketchbook before. They were rarities and difficult to find. She had no idea how Kalem possessed such a treasure.

  'You should draw,' he muttered. 'It makes you feel better.'

  'But this is a sketchbook.' Her eyes widened at its beauty. 'I can't accept this.'

  'We have loads of things like that,' Camille intervened. 'It's okay. Take it.'

  Terra nodded, a bit unsure. The need and desire to draw took over her hesitation. Kalem handed over a pencil and she opened the cover, inhaling the smell of the old paper which was yellow with time. It didn't matter. She let her hand caress the sheet as she wondered what to draw.

  It didn't take long to decide. She drew the ugliness of the world, the chaos, the screams and the blood. She drew the monster that now plagued her nightmares with its long hair and cold eyes. She drew the people in the old battered home, and the people from her old life; Damien and Sasha sitting under a holographic tree. Her grandmother at the dinning room table having some tea. Her father, and that stern look that could command entire armies.

  She drew Camille and Malcolm laughing with a glass of wine in their hands, their eyes bright and cheerful. Then came Eric, smoking a cigarette with that teasing smile that could sometimes turn creepy and dangerous and playful and evil. Scarlet, with the twins, sitting by the chimney. Morgana in the kitchen, her hand cupping her chin in concentration as she listened to everyone else. She drew Curtis and Charlotte in the infirmary, bowls and equipment in their steady hands.

  And then she drew Kalem, just the way she could see him in that very moment, opposite her, looking annoyed and calm at the same time. Those sorrowful eyes full of concern and anger, and that clenched jaw which was always tight. A wire came out from his ear and trailed down his neck, a few sparks igniting.

  Terra lost track of time, and as she continued to draw, her heart stopped hurting so much. Her drawings were sometimes beautiful and other times ugly. Sometimes she drew memories, moments lived among friends. Other times she drew her fears. She traced the pencil across the paper, telling the story of what had happened to her under Petra's care. Her heart bled across the sheet, as well as the tears that fell like two rivers.

  She let the blood that she had dropped tell her story, letting it go. Fear still gripped every inch of her body, but for the first time since she'd escaped, she could breathe. The pressure in her chest loosened and Terra finally felt a little more free.

  Kalem hadn't moved from the chair, but Camille was no longer in the kitchen. Terra wondered how long she'd spent drawing. The sketchbook was full, not a single sheet left empty for her to continue. A knot formed in her throat at the thought of not being able to draw anymore.

  'I'm going to have to get another one,' Kalem said.

  Terra wanted to protest, to tell him it wasn't necessary but his hand reached towards her own and his finger brushed the tip of hers. She didn't move away. Instead she sat staring at his robotic hand so close to her black veined human one.

  A door banging shut made them both jump and Kalem removed his hand. Terra bit down hard on her lower lip so that she couldn't plead with him to put his hand back where it belonged, next to hers. She couldn't do that, it wasn't entirely fair. He had all these memories of her and she had none of him.

  'We should probably rest.'

  'I don't think I can while Scarlet, Morgana and Tristan are out there confronting Petra,' Terra said.

  Kalem nodded, understanding.

  Terra opened her mouth to ask Kalem a question when her arm began to burn and her chest contracted in agony. Crying out loud, she twisted to one side, clutching her arm against her chest as Kalem jumped out of the chair, asking her what was happening. As the pain subsided, Terra glanced up at Kalem in fear. 'Something's wrong,' she whispered, looking down at her black veined hand. 'Scarlet's in trouble!'

  'How do you know?'

  'I'm connected to her,' she said. 'I need to go and help her.'

  'No, Terra.'

  But Terra didn't listen. Her body began to dissolve into blackness as her mind willed it to take her to Scarlet. She ignored Kalem's pleas as she mouthed an apology. It took only a matter of seconds before her body had vanished and in its place a circle of shadows twirled around before sweeping t
hrough the house, hunting for Scarlet.

  ...

  'Miss Wang!'

  The little latch on the door opened and a pair of big dark eyes peered out. There was a shout, a crack and then the big heavy bolted door opened. Eric helped Malcolm carry the dead cyborg inside, down a set of stairs with no lighting and into a room with many long metallic tables.

  Miss Wang had her frail old hands on her hips, her eyebrows knotted together in annoyance. Eric had no idea how old the human woman was, but she was definitely well into her eighties.

  'Put her there,' one of the grandkids said. They all wore black and were quite young varying in different age groups. Eric knew this was a family run business and everyone helped out.

  'What you got yourself into, boy?' Miss Wang spat, narrowing her eyes.

  'We didn't kill her, Miss Wang,' Malcolm explained, which only made the old woman swing her wooden whip at him. No one really knew why she had such an object, but she enjoyed swinging it around once in a while at someone's head when she was annoyed.

  'You fellows in that house always are up to no good,' Miss Wang said, grabbing the cigarette Eric had just lit up and taking a drag from it herself.

  'Why would we hurt her? She was one of us,' Malcolm said exasperated.

  'One of you, one of me. It never matters in the end when you're dead. We're all the same then.' She marched up to the body, inspected it and grimaced at the slit throat. Arching an eyebrow and taking another drag, she said, 'She cut her own throat?'

  Eric and Malcolm nodded, not daring to speak the entire truth.

  'If it was suicide, why you didn't call the Cleaners?' Miss Wang asked suspiciously. Eric sighed. If anyone -cyborg or human- died they had to be removed by the Cleaners, which was a department belonging to the government that dealt with such things. Once the body had been 'cleaned' as they called it, the family could go and see it.

  On the other hand, if a body needed to disappear but one didn't want the government to know, that's where Miss Wang's services came into hand.

  She waved them off before they could come up with an excuse. 'Never mind. Don't wanna hear your silly tales. Pay up.' She extended her arm and Eric passed his wrist over hers. She puffed smoke in his face before he could move away.

  Miss Wang turned her attention to two of her grandkids who were sitting on an empty metallic counter playing cards. She flicked her hand in one simple gesture which they seemed to understand because they grabbed a white sheet and covered the cyborg from head to toe. Eric couldn't help but stare at all the other tables with sheets covering bodies. At least a dozen in the basement. Clearly Miss Wang was a busy woman.

  Tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear, she puffed smoke out in their direction. 'Is there a reason you're still here?'

  Eric shook his head and grabbed Malcom's sleeve, pulling. They made it out of the house and back into their own, panting with relief at being away from the old woman.

  'You want a drink?' Malcolm asked.

  Eric nodded. 'Whiskey. And make it a double.'

  Chapter twenty-six

  It hadn't been difficult to find Petra's new lair because she'd sent her damn crows to guide them. They made it into Sector A; the richest part of the capital. Mansion upon mansion passed by as they continued to follow the crows down the brightly illuminated streets of the wealthy.

  They approached the very last home at the end of the road. The mansion had been built to resemble a small palace. It was rectangular shaped with three floors and round towers at each corner. Hundreds of windows lined the walls and Scarlet couldn't help but notice the roof was a bright green. The building was completely out of place compared to all the modern mansions nearby.

  The gates opened automatically and the three X-Prototypes marched in, through the front garden with its lavish and eccentric bushes and fountains. At the main door a woman awaited dressed in the official government clothes. Her eyes were a milky white, clouded over by the commands of Viktor. They marched down hallways made up of thick red carpets and outlandish decorations. Dark wood embedded in gold frames of old queens and kings from a time no one could remember decorated the walls.

  The government worker opened a set of golden double doors and beckoned them into a room with two thrones inside. The windows to their right were shut, the pompous curtains drawn to not allow the light to stumble through. There were cabinets spread out containing silverware and a door at the far end of the room where a worker stood to attention.

  'This is ridiculous,' Morgana spat.

  The door at the back of the room opened and Petra stepped out in a long dark blue dress which trailed behind her. She marched up to one of the thrones and sat down, her lips curling.

  'A throne, Petra?' Morgana said. 'Isn't that taking things a little too far? We're in 2160. Thrones haven't been used since-'

  'Is that jealousy I hear?' Petra said, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling.

  'You're delusional,' Morgana replied, her voice dripping with hatred.

  'Am I?' Petra wiggled on her throne comfortably, her head slightly cocked. She resembled a wild animal ready to lunge on its prey, those blue eyes widening with temptation and greed.

  Morgana crossed her arms against her chest, not bothering to respond. She wasn't going to fall into Petra's stupid games. But it was so difficult not to spit horrible words at the Prototype to see her flinch.

  'Nice place you got here,' Morgana mumbled, glancing up and down at the walls and floors. The double doors behind them suddenly opened and a man dressed in government clothes appeared carrying a tray with teacups and a kettle. He walked without worry, his shoulders relaxed. His eyes were unfocused, but he didn't stumble as he made his way to Petra's side and prepared a cup of tea for her. She pretended to sip it, her lips rising into something nasty as she watched them from across the room.

  'Please, have a cup,' she said, gesturing at the man to serve them as well. Morgana bared her teeth like a rabid dog as soon as the man stepped close enough to touch and Petra snapped her fingers, sending him away with an angry scowl. 'You always ruin my fun, Morgana.'

  'Not here to have fun, Petra.'

  The X-Prototype placed a hand on her chest, pretending to look hurt. It didn't last long before she barked out a laugh and threw the teacup against the wall. 'It's so nice to see you well and whole,' she said, turning her full attention on Scarlet. Morgana felt the need to stand in front of her sister, but didn't move. She wouldn't give Petra the satisfaction.

  'And you're all here and reunited,' Petra said, her eyes jumping from one Prototype to the next. 'It's so nice to have family close, wouldn't you agree?'

  'We're not your family,' Morgana replied.

  'No, I guess you're not.' Petra glanced down at her nails in a bored manner. 'Did you enjoy my welcome home present, Scarlet?'

  'Was it strictly necessary to kill the girl?' Morgana asked, the memory of the cyborg slitting her throat open causing Morgana's temper to rise by the second.

  'Maybe not...' Petra pouted. 'But it wouldn't have been as much fun. Besides, I wanted you to come and visit me. I have a proposition to make.'

  'Next time give us a call before you get your brother to do the dirty work for you,' Morgana spat, her hands balling into fists. She noticed one of Petra's eyes twitch, her irritation showing for just a fraction of a second. It was obvious Petra didn't like that her brother had the better power and therefore had to rely on him for the entire thing to work.

  'What proposition do you have for us?' Tristan asked, speaking for the very first time.

  Petra relaxed in her seat, leaning her arms on the armrests, watching them quietly as if she had all the time in the world. Which she did. This game they played could continue throughout the end of times. Morgana hated the thought.

  'I'm willing to stop,' Petra said, her words echoing off the rich walls, thick red velvety curtains and marble floors. Morgana stepped back, unsure of what was happening. 'I will give up the Natio
n and my control over it. You can have a free republic or whatever you want and I'll step down.'

  Tristan, Scarlet and Morgana exchanged apprehensive looks. Clearly there was something they were missing. Petra had ruled for centuries, her grip on the Nation firm and chaotic. The citizens didn't know her or her brother, the faces of the government always shown as a select group of individuals Viktor and Petra controlled like puppets. Why would she give this all up now?

  'Where's the trick?' Morgana asked.

  'No trick.' Petra shrugged.

  'And what would you want in exchange for this... surrender?' Morgana couldn't help but frown, the words sticking on her tongue. This had to be a joke. Petra would never let go of the Nation even if someone tried ripping it out of her hands.

  'I just want one thing,' she said as she lifted her arm up, pointing. Morgana followed the direction Petra was pointing towards. Morgana's stomach dropped. Scarlet. 'I want her,' Petra snarled.

  'No.' Morgana now stepped in front of Scarlet, her forehead wrinkling in confusion and anger.

  'Then there's no deal.'

  'Why?' Morgana asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

  'Because this game is boring. And all I want is for Scarlet to suffer. I will give you the Nation and in return Scarlet will come willingly with me. She will leave everyone she loves behind and she will promise to never speak to anyone ever again. She will stay by my side and she will do whatever is asked of her.'

  Morgana tensed at the words, at the implication. She couldn't help but notice the way Tristan was staring thoughtfully at Petra, as if he were considering such an offer. She wanted to slap his stupid face.

  'Morgana.' It was Scarlet, stepping to one side, her hand grabbing hers. 'It's okay.'

  'No. It's not. We just got you back and now-'

  'It would be selfish of me to not accept.'

  'What about Eric?'

  'He will survive.'

  'No, he won't. And neither will you.' Morgana squeezed her sister's hand, trying to convey how insane this was and how she wouldn't let go.