21st Century Orc

by Gregory Loui

  Her hands twitching as her burn scars ached, her claws reaching for the dragon blood button, Gore screamed within, trying to keep her own ghosts from leaping out from her memories into reality.

  No.

  Please no.

  Just let it end.

  Then the Magnum Orcus burst out of the narrow alleyway into a isolated courtyard, almost untouched by the flames but coated in a thick layer of ash. Her teeth rattling within her, Gore shivered. Despite Gore’s jacket and the heat of the Magnum Orcus, a cold dagger sharper than death itself pierced her.

  Gore’s eyes scanned her old home, looked at the ramshackle buildings crowding out the sky, ran her gaze over the burnt and half-melted benches beside the broken doors. Her gaze lifted up to the old Slam-ball post Bones used to practice his dunks with, playing together with the rest of the orcs in the neighborhood, now ripped apart and lying on the ground. A mangled mass of iron and melted plastic.

  Without a word, for no words could breath life into the wasteland, Gore exited the Magnum Orcus. She pointed her pistol at the shadows as she spun about. Nothing lived and yet everything moved. Silence yawned in long shadows all around her, threatening to reach out from their prisons and attack Gore.

  “Why’d you come back here, Bones?” murmured Gore once she made sure no beasts or ferals waited to leap out at her. “Why’d you come back at all?”

  “Gore! Over here!” shouted a voice from one of the broken doorways.

  The orc whipped around and raised her pistol to the source of the voice. Gore began to pull the trigger. Only to see a young orc slip out of the shadows.

  Lowering her pistol, her grip and jaw slackening together, Gore blinked. For a moments, Bones walked towards her. With that same cocksure grin, that same wiry build and slanted eyes, the young orc looked like Bones if Bones hadn’t ruined his life.

  “Who are you?” growled Gore, shaking her head and jabbing her pistol at the young orc. “Where’s Iron Tusk? Where’s my brother?”

  The young orc’s eyes flashed white then black and swirling grey as he raised his hands above his head and murmured, “I’m Iron Tusk’s youngest son, Marrow. Your cousin.”

  “Damn, your family’s got some strong genes,” noted Debbie, jumping out of the Magnum Orcus while Gore continued to stare at Marrow. “I almost thought you were Bones for a few seconds.”

  “I get that a lot. My mom’s upstairs with your brother,” murmured Marrow while he ever so slowly lowered his hands.

  Blight… As she made to embrace her newfound cousin, Gore closed her eyes and sighed as she flicked the safety back on, stashing her pistol away in her pocket. Her day turned weird enough already. Now she got to meet yet another family member.

  “Sorry about that,” murmured Gore, wrapping the little orc in a hug, “Got a little jumpy from the ghosts.”

  “Yeah, no problem… I got a little spooked too when I first came here looking for Bones,” laughed Marrow as he let go of Gore. He jerked his head up into the shadows of the building he just exited. “Come on. Bones is in pretty bad shape.”

  “And somehow, you guys think I’ll be able to help,” murmured Gore through gritted teeth, shaking her head and making to follow Marrow up into the house. She stopped, however, before she could make more than a single step. How could she help? After all, she was the reason why Bones was in this mess. What could she do? What could she possibly do?

  “Gore…” murmured Debbie, placing a hand on her arm. “We have to try.”

  Sighing and nodding her resignation, the orc started walking again.

  Just before she could enter the house, however, Gore stopped again, at the single stone slab stabbed into the packed earth before the ruined house. She knelt in front of the stone and wiped away a layer of ash, revealing runes engraved beneath. Someone had carved a name into the face of the stone.

  “Ngakau,” whispered Gore. Or heart…

  Gore’s mother’s name in the old orc language.

  Her eyes widening for a brief moment, flashing black, her heart stopping, Gore placed her hand on the stone slab. She closed her eyes. Then she reached out with her heart and whispered silent prayers for her mother, whispered her hopes and dreams, her nightmares and fears. She pushed at the Blight that separated them, so that she could hear her mother’s words to help her in the coming days. So she could hear her mother’s voice once more.

  “What would you do, mom? How would you make things better?” asked Gore, longing with all her heart just for even the slightest hint of an answer. “Please. Just give me a sign. Anything. Just let me know there’s more…”

  But only dead whispers and shadows lingered in this ruined world, which answered as it always did.

  With silence.

  Too tired to scream and rant at the unfairness of life, too tired even to cry, Gore just sighed and rose to her feet. She turned to her house and looked at the walls. Her brother lay within. She could not stop walking forward. For the past could not help her. For her mother could not help her anymore. No one could help her.

  “Are you all right?” asked a small voice by Gore’s side.

  The orc blinked and looked down as Debbie placed her hand on Gore’s arm, sending the slightest tremor of warmth through Gore’s veins. A light in the dark. Her jaw clenching, heart beating against her ears as she yearned for a love she could never attain, Gore just nodded and began walking into the house. She bent down to avoid the low doorway.

  Dust hung in the air in still clouds, swirling around Gore as she made her way through the ruins of her home. Toys and broken furniture cracked beneath her feet. Gore, her throat locked, blinked as the stench of Blight bug nipped at her nose. Nothing left but ashes.

  “By the Forge Master… how much did he smoke?” asked Debbie, looking at a mountain of little black blocks. “Wait, for that matter, where’d he get all of this?”

  “A mystery for the ages,” murmured Gore, shaking her mind as she steeled herself. She raised her boot high and smashed down on one of the countless pipes littering the ground. “Just start destroying as much of it as you can. If he survives, he’ll need to go cold cockatrice for a while.”

  “Already on it,” hissed Debbie, taking out a Ripperball bat from her backpack and whacking away. She tossed a broken table leg to Fin. “Come on, might as well get working while Gore takes care of business.”

  “But—”

  “Shut up and smash up this shack,” growled Debbie.

  Turning away from her friends as they demolished Bones’s supply of drugs, Gore followed Marrow up the narrow staircase. The wooden planks creaked under Gore’s boots, wobbling with each shift in her weight. Climbing up into a veritable cloud of Blight bug, Gore pressed her handkerchief to her nose. Her head spun around her. Gore paused at the landing. She glanced to the side into her neighbor’s bedrooms. During the heyday of the immigrant district, over a dozen orcs had squeezed into a single room.

  Gore’d been lucky to only have two other people sharing her bed.

  “Come on,” murmured Marrow, tugging Gore’s hand, pulling her through the long hallway. “He’s in the main bedroom.”

  Then she turned around the corner. Her brother waited for her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Relapse

  Aunt Iron Tusk kneeling just a few feet away, Gore’s brother lay curled in the corner of the room. Surrounded by a pile of broken bottles, Bones shivered and cried as he rocked back and forth, muttering to himself. So vulnerable. But blossoming out from beneath him to consume the entire room, claws marks and burn scars covered the walls, ravaging what was left of the room. Worse, however, was Bones’s own flesh. His namesake shown through deep cuts along his arms, ripped open in ragged wounds by dirty claws, festering with countless blood-flies curling around him, waiting for the carcass to realize its own fate.

  “Blight…” murmured Gore as she entered the room. Aunt Iron Tusk snapped her gaze around at the orc’s approach. The old orc lunged for Gore, holding her back from her
brother. “Bones…”

  “Wait,” growled Aunt Iron Tusk, wrapping her arms around Gore’s numb body. “I finally got him to calm down. We can’t afford to have him—”

  “Why won’t you stop, Feanris?” demanded Bones, all of a sudden jerking awake and shouting. His blood-soaked, filth-ridden claws wrapped around his ears, clutching his headphones. His eyes, bloodshot and roaring red, went wider than the moons as he glanced about. “Why won’t you stop killing us? Why? Just stop! Just! Stop! Please! Why do you hate us? Why do you want us dead? What did we ever do to you? Why do you hate us? Why…”

  Bones’s frantic cries faded into wet sobs as Bones curled back into himself, slamming his forehead into the wall over and over again. The rest of the building shook with him.

  “This is my fault,” murmured Gore, falling to her knees. Aunt Iron Tusk caught Gore just before her head could hit the floorboards. Shit. Air whistled out of her lungs, her heart screaming as though a firing squad had emptied their clips into her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything right.

  What did she do?

  His world spinning around her, shadows engulfing her, Gore cursed herself. She cursed her rage. She cursed how she’d let the past control her and harm everyone close to her. She cursed how she’d driven Bones to this point. And most of all, she cursed herself.

  She cursed her life. She cursed her decisions and her useless brain. She cursed it all.

  “This is my fault,” murmured Gore again as Aunt Iron Tusk settled her against the wall away from Bones. “This is my fault…”

  Pressing a wet rag against Gore’s head, Aunt Iron Tusk shook her head and growled, “No, irāmutu. You can’t think like that. You can’t fall into that trap of self-pity. You gotta think about how you’re gonna fix this situation, instead.”

  Gore, still gasping for air, shook her head. No… what could she do other than make everything worse? What good could Gore bring?

  “Think… think about how to bring your brother out of this nightmare. How can we save him?” asked Aunt Iron Tusk as Marrow stepped into the room, carrying a length of rope with him. Bones hissed at his cousin, backing further into the corner like a feral beast, eyes flaring, claws digging deep furrows into the floor.

  Gore’s eyes widened and she cursed.

  “Are you going to tie him up?” Gore demanded, struggling to her feet. Aunt Iron Tusk stopped her, arms stronger than elchite slamming Gore back into the wall.

  “If we must,” growled Aunt Iron Tusk while she grabbed Gore’s chin and whipped Gore around so that their eyes could meet. Grey on black. “But if you can get him to calm down, we won’t need to. So… can you?”

  “Can I?” asked Gore, more to herself than anyone else.

  “He’s your brother. You know him better than anyone else,” murmured Aunt Iron Tusk, jerking Gore to her feet.

  “That’s not much,” growled Gore as she steadied herself, trying to find her balance on the road before her. A single step off the perfect path and she would tip into the Abyss.

  She teetered.

  “Still better than nothing,” murmured Aunt Iron Tusk with a voice steadier than the earth itself, pressing one hand against Gore’s back. The two orcs walked towards Bones. Each step sent an avalanche of steel and broken glass cascading down Gore’s spine. “Just breath in and let your instincts flow through you. Let your heart speak for once, not your mind.”

  “My heart got us into this mess,” growled Gore, shaking her head, stalling a few paces from her brother. “I don’t—”

  “Hush. Less talking. Just let your soul guide you,” murmured Aunt Iron Tusk as she let Gore go.

  Staring at the broken boy in front of her, Gore shivered. The world stood still as she tried to make a decision. As she tried to find her courage. Memories flashed before her eyes. The good; Bones taking care of her when no one else in the entire world cared. Gore touched her wyvern bone earring. The bad; Gore hiding under the bed as Bones stumbled drunk about the room, destroying all in his path. Gore touched her throat. And all else in between.

  Family before all else. Even the world.

  Was that enough to overcome the rift between the two siblings? Enough to forgive all the wounds they had inflicted upon each other? To move on from the past?

  Glancing around her, at the burnt remnants of her past, Gore gulped down her fear.

  It had to be enough.

  She stepped forward.

  Eyes snapping open, Bones turned to Gore and sprung to his feet, lunging forward. Gore flinched back for the briefest of moments before she steeled herself, planting her feet firm into the ground. Bones’s hands wrapped around her shoulders, claws digging deep into her skin as Bones roared, “Feanris, you son a bitch! Stop killing us!”

  Bones’s breath washing over her in a wave, Gore stayed silent, her eyes grey and cold and staring into the pitch-black depths of Bones’s soul. She sought the light of reasoning somewhere in the storm, seeking a island to hold onto. Could she pull Bones from his fury?

  How many times did she try before?

  Scars aching all across her body, her heart yearned.

  How many times had she reached out to Bones, only for him to push her away? Only for him to slap her across the face and beat her into sleep. When lullabies turned into the tune of kicks and punches.

  Gore gulped once more and reached for her brother. Slowly. An inch at a time, her claws gliding trembling through the air to wrap around Bones’s head and pull him into a hug.

  Wrong move.

  “Stop killing us!” roared Bones, one hand grabbing Gore’s neck and lifting her into the air. She did not flinch as his claws drew blood. “Feanris, you godless son of a bitch! Stop killing us! Stop!”

  Her soul igniting within, Gore snarled, her rage focused into a razor keen as she reached up and grabbed Bones’s arm. Cartilage broke under the skin as Bones screamed. Then Gore ripped his hand to the side and pulled back her own claws, curling her hand into a fist.

  She was stronger than her brother.

  That simple realization echoed through Gore’s entire body as the world stopped. A door to the darkest path.

  Her brother teetered on the edge of life and death. Submerged in drugs and alcohol, he only needed a single push from either way to tip him over. Then it would all be over.

  Her rage roaring against her ears, her heart screaming for blood, Gore blinked, trembling. The terrifying, tantalizing possibility beckoned her.

  With a single punch, she could kill her brother. She could end his life. She could end his suffering and hers. She could cut herself off from her past forever.

  She could kill her brother.

  And yet… her mother’s words echoed in Gore’s head, “Family before all else. Even the world.”

  No, Gore screamed to herself. No more desolate platitudes from long-dead mothers…

  “You only have each other in this world,” murmured Aunt Iron Tusk, her rumbling thunder pounding against the wall of rage surrounding Gore’s heart.

  He doesn’t deserve redemption, Gore roared. After all he’s done. After all she did for him…

  Then Debbie’s voice joined the fray, “We only need a chance. You got the chance. Why not give him one too?”

  Gore met Bones’s eyes, staring into her brother.

  The only brother she had in the world.

  A part of her broke within.

  Gore sobbed as she swept Bones into a hug.

  “Shh…” she murmured, moving around Bones until she stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his, prying the broken bottle from his hands.

  Resisting for a moment before his fingers gave up and yielded the bottle, Bones gasped, “No… please no…”

  “Shh… it’s gonna be alright,” murmured Gore, sitting down against the wall, pressing her entire body into Bones. “It’s gonna be alright, brother. We’ll get through this. We’ll get through this.”

  “No.” Bones shook his head, lolling back ag
ainst Gore. Her throat sore, eyes dry, Gore just stared into the distance as she listened to Bones as he murmured, “Please. Just let me die. Let me break. I only… I only bring… pain…”

  “I can’t let you do that. We’re family, Bones. We’re family. And you know what that means? That means even if the entire world wants to fight us, break us down, we fight back together,” murmured Gore, words flowing out of her lips, squeezing Bones tight.

  A great sigh whistled out of her as she blinked. For some reason, the tears had dried up. No tears… no rage… nothing inside except for pain, aching pain. The pain that came not from explosion or gunfire but from within. The type of pain that festered over decades, brewing within a person’s heart.

  Pain only Gore could inflict upon herself.

  Blight… Gore blinked as she sniffled, entire body shivering. What a mess they made of their lives. What a mess they made of each other.

  “We’ve lost, Gore,” murmured Bones, reaching up with a dirty hand to caress Gore’s cheek. Their eyes met again, this time clearer than a spring morning. “We’ve lost the war… the world…”

  Then Bones broke down into tears, sobbing into Gore’s chest.

  Gore didn’t reply. She couldn’t reply. For if she spoke, she would break down as well. Instead she just clenched her teeth tight and wrapped Bones in a tight hug. Bones was not much more than skin and bones, prickly like a spine-skiver, jabbing at her from all angles. And dirty beyond measure. But Gore still hugged her brother all the same.

  He was the only brother she had, after all.

  After a few long moments, Bones fell asleep in her embrace and Gore just let him stay there for a while, not thinking, just hugging her brother. Then she turned to Aunt Iron Tusk and Marrow, growling, “I think he’s calm now. Should we take him to the tow truck?”