The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire

by Scottie, Charles

  “We’ve got to head in for reporting. We’ll be by to check on you tomorrow, make sure you’re settling in alright. Take good care of yourself, Natalie. And don’t worry; now you’re here, the hard part is over. This whole nightmare is going to be over with soon, I promise.” He offered an awkward smile which Natalie returned, neither of them really believing in his promise, before he made to follow after Marco.

  As soon as Rico had disappeared into the crowd ahead, Natalie felt another twinge of discomfort. Her mind rapidly found its way back to images of the guard who had tried to take advantage of her. Goosebumps broke out over her skin as she shivered, keenly aware of the all-too-human nature that was present here, especially in the authority. It was not a place that made her feel safe, to say the least.

  Almost as if on cue, a rumbling bark emerged from the crowd behind her. Turning to see, Natalie couldn’t help but smile at the sight of BJ trying to wade through the people, his bulky mass clearly putting him at a disadvantage here. Even with the refugees trying to give him space, he was obviously cramped, accidentally jostling everyone he tried to move past.

  By the time he had finished making his way to her, Natalie was grinning from ear to ear at his discomfort. Judging by the tight frown on his face, he did not share in her amusement, but his annoyance was marked by something else. Natalie wasn’t sure what it was until he absentmindedly tugged at his sleeve: there was blood there, and it was fresh.

  Apparently the altercation in the tent had taken a turn for the violent, although she couldn’t say she was surprised. A briefly pessimistic voice in her head suggested that maybe the outpost wasn’t all that safe after all, but it was silenced quickly. BJ noticed her sudden mood-swing, and offered something that came as a cross between a growl and a sigh in return.

  “I’m sorry. There’s no justifying what happened. The most I can say is that he was dealt with.” BJ’s words were followed by an uncomfortable silence, Natalie unsure if she was sick or satisfied, BJ struggling to find a better bandage for the problem.

  At a loss for words, he offered Natalie his arm. A weak smile found its way across her lips again as she considered it. Progress through the crowds would almost definitely be slower alongside him, but she hated the feeling of being alone.

  The realization made her pause and reconsider her emotions. It wasn’t being alone that bothered her; she had preferred that for a long time, and had no regrets for the life she’d lived. It was being without BJ, or Rico, even Marco. In a short period of time, she had developed a fierce loyalty to the team, and the idea that their time was soon to be at an end left her feeling aimless.

  “Natalie?” BJ’s voice brought her out of her reverie, one of his eyebrows quirked just slightly upward in concern. Out of reflex, Natalie went to explain that she was fine, but it felt strange to lie to BJ. Instead, she looped her arm around his in silence, cocking her head toward the crowd in line for processing. She expected him to continue questioning her, but to her relief, he began his lumbering path forward. Another pang of appreciation struck her. Thanks, BJ.

  “When we get to the tent, I’ll give my recommendation for you, but then you’ll be on your own for a little while.” The normal confidence that infused BJ’s words was weak, a surprising turn of events for Natalie. Her initial concern was quickly replaced with a slowly broadening smile as she realized what he reminded her of.

  He was the awkward dad sending his little girl off into the great wide world on her own. There was no denying that things were different now, much more dangerous than they used to be, but the sentiment was the same. He didn’t like it, but he had no choice: he had to let Natalie fend for herself, and it was an idea that obviously troubled him.

  “If anything goes wrong, let the guards know and they’ll find me.” Natalie’s face twisted into disgust at BJ mentioning the guards, but he quickly waved it off.

  “That won’t happen again. Let them know you’re with me, and I promise I’ll be over as soon as I can.” BJ’s grip on Natalie’s arm tightened reflexively as he spoke, an effect that was simultaneously painful and reassuring for the young woman. She looked up at his face, but he seemed lost in his thoughts and unable to make eye contact. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he felt ashamed for being unable to stop the guard sooner. Her smile weakened at the thought.

  Natalie had been forced to deal with aggressive men a thousand times before in her life, but while the problem here was essentially the same, the world and rules surrounding it had changed dramatically. Violence had almost universally become law, a change that proved to shift things more in her favor than against, but her confidence had its limits.

  Against the odd rogue, Natalie believed she could handle herself fine, and that BJ’s Papa Bear routine was unnecessary. The difference now, and the problem that was eating at BJ, was that this wasn’t some meaningless creep in the street. If he hadn’t stepped in after Natalie struck the soldier, it was likely that no one would have believed her accusations afterward if she had been forced to defend herself more violently.

  Natalie shivered again, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. Can’t say I’d blame them. Who do you rely on, the gunmen who put up your walls, or just another refugee coming in from the storm and taking up space? Bitterness welled up within her chest. I guess some things don’t change.

  BJ rubbed her arm awkwardly, uncertain of what else he could do. Natalie returned his attention with a half-hearted grin, wishing she could do more to reassure him that she was okay.

  The rest of their slog through the streets was spent in silence, each trying to find a way to cheer up the other. Instead, Natalie took to studying the camp further as they moved. Better to get her bearings while she was in good company.

  It was nighttime, and so the only lighting came from whatever the refugees were carrying or from the odd spotlight above. Every so often, a soldier would shine a flashlight into the crowd, scanning. Whenever that happened, Natalie couldn’t help but notice the agitation that rolled through the pack. It would appear that everyone was well aware of the soldiers’ duties, and their willingness to comply with orders.

  Natalie tried not to focus on how many times violence must have erupted within the walls. Instead, her mind wandered to how the walls had even been put up in the first place. She hadn’t been paying attention to much of anything beyond her immediate salvation when they’d arrived at the gates.

  “We’re here. Are you ready?” Natalie blinked in surprise, unaware that they had finally made it to their destination. BJ’s head was cocked at her, obviously awaiting her answer. Natalie forced a chuckle.

  “Sure? Not like I’ve got anything to lose.” BJ nodded his head seriously, and Natalie stifled a sigh. Again, she was reminded of being interviewed. The world ends, and yet somehow, job stress remains. Maybe if I’m really lucky, they’ll make me take an exam, too. It’s been a long time since I had to deal with test anxiety.

  Natalie shook her head in an attempt to focus, but she couldn’t help herself. Sarcasm was how she coped, and considering the next few minutes were going to determine how safe she was for the foreseeable future, she had a lot on her plate to contend with. It didn’t help that BJ was able to escort her directly to the front of the line, resulting in numerous scowls and muttered threats behind her from the refugees she sailed past.

  She was barely able to make out BJ introducing her through the fog in her mind. Awesome. Now I’m teacher’s pet. It’s a good thing it doesn’t matter if these people like me, otherwise they might stab me in an alleyway. Oh, no, wait a second, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

  Natalie was fidgeting again, trying to ignore the feeling of a dozen angry eyes staring daggers at her back. Ahead of her, a dour older man was beckoning her forward, his frame hunched and small amidst a sea of paperwork.

  “Name.” Natalie had only just stepped up to the desk before the clerk returned his interest to the sheaf of papers in front of him. He sounded as if he were both bored and angry, two
emotions that did nothing to ease the palpable tension in the air. Leaning in close with a weak attempt to prevent the crowd behind her from hearing, she muttered, “Natalie.”

  A quick scratch of pen on pad, followed by an uncomfortable pause. With a sudden huff of annoyance, the clerk looked up, realizing for the first time that Natalie had leaned in to speak with him. He wasted no time in jabbing her sharply in the sternum with the back of his pen, forcing her back and out of his space. The sudden stinging pain drew a small yelp from Natalie, and a heartbeat later two guards above had their weapons drawn, light flooding the crowd as they hunted for the source of the disturbance.

  Refugees scattered around her, leaving a very confused Natalie standing nearly by herself at the center of attention. BJ towered beside her, now flagging the soldiers to back down. It took a moment before they returned to their patrol, and Natalie thought she heard BJ release a small sigh. He turned an aggravated glare on the clerk.

  “Was that really necessary?” Natalie had been surprised at how much pull BJ appeared to have within the walls, but even his influence had its limits. The clerk flashed an impish smile, obviously enjoying the power that his station brought. He cleared his throat in a raspy, exaggerated way before crooking his finger at Natalie once more.

  “Just showing the new girl how things work in here. Now, full name, sweetheart.” Natalie had to resist the urge to take a swing at the patronizing creep. She may have gone through with it, if she hadn’t seen BJ’s fists clench to match her own. Ahh, papa bear. Good to have you, at least.

  “Natalie Peterson.” The clerk nodded his head, a simple action that he had somehow managed to infuse with an incredible amount of condescension. He wasted no time in peppering Natalie with more questions, covering everything from where she was born to the color of her eyes.

  She had no idea how much time had passed before he finally finished his interrogation. It seemed to drone on forever, with half of the questions digging for information that was of no practical use. Eventually, he appeared content that he had everything he needed, and Natalie was callously dismissed with a notice to return in a few hours to check on the status of her application. As they left their place at the head of the line, a rumble came from BJ that could have passed for a laugh.

  “Hm. That went better than I’d expected. Also, better keep your last name to yourself, unless you want Marco to start calling you ‘Pete.’” Natalie laughed aloud at that, surprised at her own reaction. She forgot that BJ did have a sense of humor under the stone mountain facade. Though he was right; if Marco found out, she’d be re-branded as Pete for certain. Or Petey, actually, and I’m not going to consider either of those a win.

  “I guess we’ll find out how it went in a little while.” The prospect of waiting for a few more hours brought a hefty yawn from Natalie, a wave of exhaustion overtaking her now that she actually had downtime to consider sleeping. BJ paused briefly, looking her over.

  “If you need sleep, we’re near the barracks. You can settle down there and I’ll keep an eye on things.” Natalie went to turn his offer down, but he had already taken ahold of her arm again and was forging a path through the crowd. She did need sleep, but everything about the idea of letting her guard down around so many strangers was rubbing her the wrong way.

  Her attitude managed to take a dive for the worse as BJ veered into a building that seemed to be stuffed with people in sleeping bags. They were body to body across the floor, save for a handful of narrow pathways meant to allow for easier navigation. After a moment of surveying the room, BJ found a space for her to bed down.

  There were two people, total strangers, on either side of where he intended for Natalie to sleep. Her skin prickled again, and she found herself resisting the urge to sprint from the building as quickly as her legs could carry her. The crowds of people who were awake at this hour suddenly seemed less confusing as Natalie eyed the alternative. If it weren’t for BJ’s constant insistence, she would have left.

  “I told you: I’ll watch, you sleep. You’re going to be busy soon, and there’s no telling when you’ll get your next opportunity. Take what you can get.” His tone had resumed its commanding nature, and while Natalie understood that the man had a soft side, she knew better than to try ignoring him.

  Getting nestled into her space was a chore, but once she had taken her position, the aching need for sleep came crashing over her again with greater force. As usual, she found herself making a weak attempt at trying to recollect how much time had actually passed since she first left the house with BJ and company. The memories begun to blur beyond comprehension, tied together in a mass of adrenaline and confusion. It felt like weeks had passed, but it must have been only a day or two. Or was it three, now?

  Buried in her memories and worn out from a long day, Natalie began to relax. Slowly, her head was flooded with the oddities and half-thoughts that often signaled a coming rest. The last thing that crossed her mind before she finally gave in was a vague memory of camping with her dad, their sleeping bags nestled next to each other in their tent. For the first time in a long while, Natalie fell asleep with a smile on her face, content to relive a pleasant memory from a much better time.

  “Clever. Clever clever clever.” He was speaking aloud to no one in particular, and while the words were meant as an honest compliment, his hands were shaking with rage. That anger was making it increasingly difficult for him to work, and after another minute of sloppy progress he abandoned his current project with a howl of frustration. His gaze landed on his soiled coat and shoes, favorites of his that he had been unable to clean, and he screamed even louder.

  One disappointment after another, and absolutely no pay-off or release. Feverishly, he began running his hands through his carefully managed hair, losing himself in his emotion.

  I had found them, they were mine to deal with, but no. Orders. Orders were orders, and I have to obey. The longer he stewed on it, the more irregular his breathing became. Ragged inhales gave way to snarling exhales, and his outrage continued to escalate.

  They took it from me. They stole my opportunity, my hunt, as if that were their right. As if I were a dog for them to command, content with the scraps they throw me and ever-eager to lap at their feet.

  No. No no no. I am more than that, more than them, cowards hiding in their castle-cradle in the dark. Children playing in a world they couldn’t possibly fathom, couldn’t know nearly as intimately as I do. Worthless. Worms and wretches, the lot of them.

  With no other outlet available to him, he had taken to pacing the rooftop that he called his home in a vain effort to relieve his ire. He was supposed to be watching for other survivors, cataloguing and observing their actions, but his spiteful nature refused. His masters didn’t let him play, so why should he continue to jump at their beck and call?

  Memories roiled in the depths of his mind, his twitching fingers recalling the excitement he had felt. They were special, different, worthy. The soldiers had been all too willing to allow him safety in their number, so sickeningly happy to do “good work” for the people. He had felt a pang of joy, knowing that he would be removing their weakness from the world, and when the job was over he went to sleep knowing he had done well.

  But the others had been different. He had screamed, begged, threatened, everything under the sun to get them to open their sweet shell to him, and they had ignored it all. Even when they knew he would likely be torn apart by hungry hands, they chose themselves, content to let the stranger at the threshold meet his fate.

  He had felt such pride. They were beautiful, these new survivors. They knew what the world had become. They had seen the rules change, recognized what survival meant, and embraced it without pause. It had inspired him, and so he took his performance to a new level in their honor.

  It hadn’t been easy. The undead were an indispensable tool for hunting, but they made for cumbersome puppets. Summoning them was simple enough; he just had to play the part of the panicked refugee, raising h
is voice until it inevitably drew the attention of his wandering stagehands. The real challenge lay in convincing them to play their parts.

  He had already decided on his grand finale, but it would require his putrid assistants’ flawless cooperation. He had salvaged a grenade from the troops he’d butchered before, and it was an excellent idea for a coup de grace. The problem that remained was how to ensure his audience survived long enough to appreciate his showmanship.

  That was where he was determined to shine. Setting the stage had been a work of genius, and it had gone off without a hitch. First, he took on the role of the victim, desperately trying to hide from the monstrous beasts that roamed the hall. With that as his cover, he was able to position his helpers away from the entrance to the building, ensuring he had his exit after the performance.

  Next, he wore the mantle of the spurned stranger, all fury and vengeance at being left to die. His commitment to the character was masterful, bringing goosebumps to his skin. A handful of scattered gunshots into the room where his toys were hiding were meant to coerce them into taking cover, just in time for his assistants to take their position in the hall.

  All that had been left to him then was the dramatic finish. He took care to cripple his helpers, dropping them down to a literal crawl, before bellowing his final line with conviction: If you’re going to let me die, then I’m going to blow all you bastards to Hell with me! Even in memory, it brought a twitch of a smile to his lips. It wasn’t exactly writing of Shakespearean caliber, but it was only meant to warn them of what was coming.

  The grenade was heavy, but he had more than enough time to take careful aim with it. A practiced lob rolled it right under the writhing pile of his undead lackeys, exactly as he had intended. With his part completed, he took his leave, content that Act 1 had been a roaring success.