by Meyer, Tim
He thought about Lilah and how she would corroborate his story. She knew the truth better than anyone. Would she play along? Would the amnesia story stick? Sam thought it would, but for how long? The truth was a stubborn prick sometimes, and sooner or later it always came out. Sam hoped by the time that happened, they would understand why he did what he did, that it was the only way to protect them.
“Well?” Peter asked. “Is that what went down, Mouth?”
“You bet your fucking ass that's how it went down. Did you hear Sam stutter, slim-dick? I didn't think so,” Mouth replied, stepping back, hiding behind Sam and the rest of the group.
The crowed started exchanging comments amongst themselves. Sam didn't know exactly what was being tossed around, but the tone wasn't promising. They looked at him differently, their trust beginning to wear, eroding like wet sand. Sam was losing control and he knew it. He could feel it slipping out of his grasp as if it were some palpable, living thing. He watched Soren make his way down the closest aisle, Chris and Kyle following him obediently. Sam's eyes fell on Peter, who remained standing, arms folded across his chest defiantly. He made sure Sam caught his proud smile before making his exit. Slowly, more people stood, smiling at Sam like they knew something that he didn't. One by one, they exited down the same aisle Soren had. Tina saw exactly what Sam witnessed and she collapsed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Things are going to change, aren't they?” Tina asked.
Sam couldn't answer.
“Sam?”
He watched Becky, his own daughter, his own flesh and blood, deviate her eyes from her father and walk down the same aisle Soren had. His heart nearly exploded.
“Do you want me to get her?” Tina asked.
Sam shook his head. “Did I do something wrong, Tina? What did I do to fail these people?”
Brian stepped forward. “Maybe you should've been honest with them.”
Sam turned to him, suddenly realizing he may have been right all along.
Trust is a fragile thing, you know,” Brian continued. Once you break it, it's doubly difficult to gain it back.”
“Yeah...” Sam said. “He's gonna win, isn't he?”
“Sam, this isn't a game,” Tina said. “These people aren't pieces you can move across a board. They're people.”
“To him that's all they are.”
“So what are you going to do? Stoop to his level?” Tina asked.
“No offense, boss. But I think we've done enough damage,” Brian said. “Best thing we can hope for is that they come around and realize that you were only trying to protect them.”
“That's all I was doing, Brian. That's all I was ever trying to do.”
Brian shrugged. “Hopefully they'll realize that before it's too late.”
“What about my family?” he asked aloud, although it was something meant to stay within his head.
“What about them?” Tina asked.
“I'm a terrible father, aren't I?”
Tina and Brian exchanged glances.
“No, Sam. You're not,” Tina said. “You just bit off more than you could chew. You need to pull back a little.”
“I can't do that... these people, they'll leave. Lives are at stake here.”
“Their choices aren't yours to make, Sam.”
“Sam, you're driving yourself into the ground,” Brian informed him. “When's the last time you slept? Like, really slept? For a full eight hours?”
Days? Weeks? Months? He didn't know. Time seemed to have melted together.
“You need a break,” Tina said. “Concentrate on what's important. Get healthy, and get yourself together, man.” Tina thought about the photograph on Bernhardt's counter. “And for God's sakes, take care of your family. Because that's what's most important now. Understand?”
Sam stared into the middle of nowhere, drifting off between past memories.
“It doesn't have to be a long break. A few days. Maybe a week. Just spend some time with Dana, Becky, and Matty.”
Sam forced himself to smile. “That sounds nice.”
“We're here for you if you need anything. You know that.”
Wiping his nose, Sam nodded.
“And when you feel better, we'll figure this whole thing out,” Tina added.
“This place isn't going anywhere, Sam,” Brian told him. “And neither are these people.”
Not yet, Sam wanted to add, but refrained.
“You guys are right,” Sam said. “I haven't been myself lately. I need some rest. Spend some time with my kids.”
Patting him on the shoulder, Tina grinned. “There's the Sam I always wanted to know.”
Their little moment was interrupted when Craig waddled over to the group. He held a half-empty package in his hands, offering it to Tina.
“Found this in the garbage outside of my room,” Craig said. “Only one is missing.”
Sam took the package from Tina. A walkie-talkie sat inside the package, the other half empty.
“Not sure what it means, just thought it was kind of odd that someone only took one,” he said. It would have made more sense if both were taken, then I'd say it's a couple of kids bored out of their minds, playing games. But only one? I don't know. Something stinks to high heaven.”
Sam examined the packaging, then passed it to Brian.
“Thanks, Craig. You did the right thing,” Sam told him.
Craig nodded, wished everyone a good night, then walked back the same way he came.
Sam felt sick. He felt his own forehead, wiping away the sweat from his brow, thinking he might puke.
“You know what this fucking means, don't you?” Mouth asked.
“No,” Sam said. “But I have a pretty good idea.”
-15-
Hours later, dusk settled. The obsidian sky, starless and polluted with small clusters of clouds, stretched above the vagrant wanderer. He pulled his hood over his head, to block the breeze from blowing dirt and other unwanted specks into his eyes. Settling down in the bushes, he removed the binoculars from inside his sweatshirt. Focusing the lenses, the store became clearer with each turn of the dial. He saw people moving about behind the giant wall of glass, removing rugs that had been used to block out the sun.
He licked his teeth, which had been whittled into daggers. Static erupted from his hip.
“Come in, one-two-nine,” a voice said. “Over.”
The hooded figure grabbed the walkie-talkie, removing it from his belt. “Go ahead.”
There was a pause, and a few seconds later, the voice was back. “I'm in.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“What's the situation?”
A pause. Shuffling in the background. Static.
“This is,” the voice said, “going to be easier than we expected.”
“Meat?”
“Oh, yes. Plenty of meat.”
Meat, the hooded figure thought, grinning devilishly, running his tongue between his carnivorous fangs.
“WITHIN DARKNESS LIES DISCOVERY”
EPISODE 4
The needle penetrated his vein and the red liquid vanished inside the man's arm. His eyes rolled back, disappearing behind saggy lids. They returned seconds later, his pupils small and black like olives. The smile came next, smearing across his face. Weightless, his body hovered over the ground like an apparition. He felt like a soul that had departed from its flesh-encased vessel. An outer-body experience; that's what this was.
Loud, industrial rock music blared in his ears, but like all the other sounds amongst his surroundings, they drowned in the height of his high. His heart slowed to the point where it nearly stopped beating. Checking his pulse to make sure the drug did not take him past the point of no return, sweat rolled down his face in beads. He was still alive. Barely. As the poison ebbed through him, he decided he wouldn't care if it killed him. Death was inevitable; what better way to die?
“It hits you hard and fast,” the man on the other si
de of the room spoke confidently. His bald head reflected the blue light from behind the bar. “The best merchandise I've ever produced. Just wait until the fun part comes.”
The high man slumped in his chair, unable to move his mouth. He glanced at the needle as it retracted from his vein. It fell to the floor and remained there, the man too lazy to retrieve it. “Fun part?”
“You'll see.”
As the bald man promised, it hit him. Hard. And fast. Like a bolt of lightning striking the horizon. His heart swam in his chest. His eyes widened like they meant to swallow his skull. An army of ants crawled over his legs, up and down his arms. Muscles twitching violently, the man thought he was dying for real. Then the adrenaline rush washed over him and he felt like he had witnessed his own birth, invigorated by visions of the new world through new eyes.
“And there it is,” the bald man laughed.
The man jumped up from this position on the chair. He paced back and forth rapidly, trying to rid himself of the excess energy the drug had given him. “This is... this is unbelievable!” he shouted.
“I just needed the time to perfect it.”
“You're a genius, Rollins.”
“So I've been told,” he said, chuckling, wiping a thin layer of sweat off his scalp.
“This new Blood is the best damn thing I've ever sampled.” The man bent down, picking the syringe off the floor. He held it in the air, allowing the light from the bar to filter through it. Red bubbles clung to the glass tube. The man felt the sudden urge to smash it against the ground, just so he could lick the remaining droplets. “I need more.”
“It can be done, but I need some time.”
“How much time?”
Rollins shrugged. “Couple weeks. Maybe more.”
The man shook his head. “No, no. That won't do at all.”
“Malek, please. Be reasonable. I'm a one man crew here.”
“You have three days.”
Rollins looked at Malek like he had sucker-punched him below the belt.
“Malek, what you're asking me isn't feasible.”
Malek glared at him, his blood-filled eyes burning in the darkness. “I tell you what is and isn't feasible. Got it?”
Rollins swallowed what felt like a golfball. “Yes. Of course.”
“Yes, of course, what?”
Rollins eyes found the floor. “Yes, of course, Master.”
“That's my good little cook.”
The door to the small room swung open. Malek's head craned toward the figure limping into the bar area. He rubbed his eyes, making sure what he saw was real, not allowing the drug to dictate his perception. The drug had wrapped him in an odd fog his mind was not capable of lifting—at least not yet.
The figure paced behind the bar, screaming over the loud music thundering through the wall speakers.
“Marcus?” Malek asked the figure, fighting off the invisible creatures that licked his brain. “Is that you?”
Something crashed. Sparks flew, dancing in the air like pixies. From the center of the room, Malek watched Marcus slash the disc player into tiny pieces with his long rusty blade. The music died, and with it, most of Malek's high.
“Something you care to share?” Malek asked, irritated.
Rollins remained in the corner, slinking back into the shadows.
“What does it look like?” Marcus snapped, yanking his shirt down, exposing his bare shoulder.
“Christ, what happened?” Rollins asked, unable to grab himself a clean look.
“What happened? What happened? I don't know, Rollins—what the fuck does it look like happened?”
Malek attempted to piece together what Marcus was trying to tell them. He couldn't see what Marcus showed him through the drug's blur.
“Come closer, my brother,” Malek instructed. “Let me see.”
Hesitantly, Marcus stepped forward, allowing Malek a closer look. The man remained standing, an authoritative pose that caused Marcus's knees to quake. Malek stroked his raven-black hair; his tongue rolled between his sharply-whittled teeth, designed for shredding layers of human flesh.
“Yes...” Malek said. “That's it. Come closer.” He waved him on. “Let me see you.”
“I'm... I'm sorry, Master,” Marcus said, his voice wavering. “My outburst was unnecessary. It doesn't hurt all that much. Warrick helped pluck the bullet out—”
“Quiet.”
Once Marcus entered his reach, Malek grabbed him, running his finger along the outskirts of his servant's wound. The man didn't flinch. Didn't dare to. Not a muscle twitched. Malek removed his finger, examining the drop of blood running down his hand. Before it reached his wrist, he placed his mouth on the scarlet dribble, allowing it to rest on his tongue, savoring the coppery taste. “You taste fine to me.”
“Thank you, Master—”
Malek's backhand collided with Marcus's cheek.
“I said quiet. Did I not?”
Marcus touched the sting, staring into his Master's eyes. Rage fueled them; his pupils expanded, his jaw tightened. Marcus flinched, waiting for another violent display of power, but it didn't come—at least not right away.
Malek swallowed the droplet, continuing to lick his finger while glaring at his servant.
“Did you retrieve the bodies from the store?” Malek asked.
Marcus stared at him, his bones quivering beneath his flesh.
“I asked you a question, Marcus. Did you, or did you not, retrieve the bodies from the store?”
Slowly, Marcus shook his head.
Malek's face didn't change. He stared at his servant, then to the shadows where Rollins remained, looking paler with each passing second.
“You failed me?”
“There were complications.”
“Explain.”
“We ran into them.”
“Them?”
“The people from Costbusters.”
“Oh?”
“They had weapons. Guns.”
“Yes, I can see that.” He helped himself to another sample of Marcus's congealing blood. “Did you kill any of them. Enslave any? Did you do anything useful?”
Marcus's mouth twitched.
“Speak!”
“We... uh... executed...” he said, beneath his breath.
“What was that? Couldn't quite hear you.”
“The plan.” Marcus peered into his Master's eyes, fearing his reaction to the truth. “We executed the plan prematurely.”
“The plan? My plan? The one I haven't fully committed to yet? That plan?”
“Yes, Master.”
Malek pinched the bridge of his nose. “Whom did you send?”
Marcus's lips froze. His expression answered for him.
“You didn't,” Malek said.
“It made the most sense. She practically volunteered!”
Malek sighed heavily. “Oh, Marcus...”
“It was Carp's idea! Honest!” Marcus screamed. “I wanted to come back here! I didn't want anything to do with—”
“I put you in charge, Marcus. Not Carp. You were the one in charge of protecting the meat lockers. You were the one carrying out my orders.”
“I'm sorry I failed you, Master.”
“It's okay,” Malek said with certain benevolence. He placed his hand on the back of Marcus's head, pulling him closer until their foreheads met. Malek stared directly into his eyes. “We're brothers, aren't we? We have to stick together. We're all we have left in this world. Only each other, no one else. We're bound by blood, right? We've all taken the oath—the ultimate commitment.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Speak the words.”
“Brothers of Blood, Brothers of the Black, From the Great Red Flood, Let the Devil's Brood Attack.”
“That's it, my brother.”
Marcus's jaw seemed to unhinge as the blade slipped into his stomach. He felt his internal organs shift. Looking down, spotting copious amounts of blood splashing his shoes, he whimpered softly. The pain
came next, quickly and sharply, not giving him any time to react. Strength abandoned his legs and he found himself kneeling before his murderer. His intestines peeked out of the large opening in his abdomen. Unable to watch himself bleed out, he stared up at his leader, seeking reason for his cruel actions.
“Why...”
“Because,” Malek said, as light withered from Marcus's eyes, “you broke my radio.”
-1-
“I know you're too old for dolls,” the woman said, “but this one is pretty and reminded me of you.”
She accepted the doll from the woman's hand. The hair color was similar. Their eyes held the same hue. Other than those two similarities, she thought the doll resembled her mother more than it did her. The plastic figurine had two noticeable features she didn't have yet, but learned about in school. Changes that were a natural part of life and not to be feared, but embraced instead. Old fashioned clothes dressed the doll, garments Dana would never wear, mostly because Becky would tease her until the end of time.
“Thank you, Susan,” Dana said, her voice small and unsure. “But I think it looks more like Brenda than me.”
Susan raised her brow. “Who's Brenda, sweetie?”
Dana's eyes found the EXIT sign on the far wall. “My mother.”
“Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to...”
“It's okay,” Dana replied, sounding chipper.
“Did your mother... you know...” Susan nodded at the EXIT sign.
Dana shrugged. “Don't know. Wasn't with her when everything happened. I was with Dad—er, Sam.”
Susan laughed. “Yes, I know who your father is.”
“I think she's still alive.”
Susan placed her hand on Dana's shoulder, rubbing gently. “What makes you say that?”
“I don't know. Might sound stupid, but I can...”
Susan frowned. “There's no such thing as stupid, sweetie.”