The man ran as fast as his two feet could carry him. The bats were intent on chasing him. The hunt was all they cared about right now, and moving prey seemed to entice the alien nature inside them. Bats were usually opportunistic, and fearful of man. The fear was gone now.
The young African American ran down an alley and noticed a sewer entrance. The bats circled the alley. He noticed them flying above the alley like vultures just waiting for the right moment to descend downward. Thinking quickly, he tried his best to lift the cover. He scratched his hand on the lid, right as he managed to slide it over to the side. There was nowhere else to go but down. With the lid out of the way. He stumbled down the ladder. He wasn’t fast enough. The bats flew down and piled on top of him, it was a quick death.
The city’s subway station was just as crowded as New York City could have ever hoped for. More than two hundred people stood in line waiting for the next train to finally slow down and carry the next load onto their nightly commutes.
A woman, with thick glasses, stood in the front of the line, looking at her tablet, reading the latest celebrity gossip. She kept getting shoved a little, but she paid it no mind, it was typical. She stood there in her scrubs, she had just finished a long shift, and the curly haired woman was ready to go home and end what appeared to be one of the worst nights at the local hospital she had experienced this month. If only that was the worst part of her evening.
She heard people starting to scream. “Damn it.” She said. She figured it was probably a dispute of some sort breaking out. Gang crime wasn’t so much an issue any more, but a few lingered on. What she saw was something else. Three creatures, standing upright. They looked like dogs, with very long snouts. They had strips on their back, kind of like a tiger, but these weren’t tigers. She saw the mob of people trying to outrun them. The woman was knocked to the ground and rolled off the boardwalk onto the tracks. Before she could even get up to pick up her glasses, one of the stripped creatures was on top of her, biting into her shoulder and shaking her like a rag doll.
_____
The Haze
Cale had clearly given up and left Xairin alone for the night. Xairin was about to leave, when he felt a tapping on his shoulder. He figured it would be Topher, Lucretia possibly since he hadn’t spoke to her yet, maybe even Rory. Someone else was standing there.
The man looking down at Xairin was muscular, tall, and sporting a blonde man bun. Xairin noticed his big arms bulging from his black t-shirt. This was something that usually wasn’t something Xairin ever went for, but the muscles this guy had, was something else. Xairin knew all manner of people would be out tonight. It helped that the man also had a nice stubble going on. The man looked like he hadn’t shaved his face, but his neck, which Xairin liked that in between. The man was also a blonde. Xairin liked blondes and brunettes. He also had nice eyes, not as nice as the man from before. But the shade of blue was fitting.
“Hey, how's it going?” The man asked. He had a nice voice, strong and pleasant.
Pointing at himself, with his pointer finger on his right hand, Xairin questioned the advance. “Who? Me?”
“Yeah you, I’ve been watching you sit here by yourself for a while now. Thought I would come over and say hello.”
The man had a sly approach. He sat right beside Xairin on the open bar stool. He leaned over, making sure to flex as he moved. As if he was trying to entice Xairin with just his muscles alone. Xairin wasn’t minding the view, but this sort of thing never happened to Xairin coming from someone of this physical caliber. “Um… Is this a joke?” Xairin was already on the defensive after having a rude twink insult him, get shot down by someone he did have interest in, and then of all people, run into Cale…
“Joke? Excuse me?”
Xairin was never the type to be rude to anyone except Cale after all the shit he had put him through. Realizing he was coming across like the man who insulted him, he stopped himself. “Look, sorry, my defenses are up, it's not been a good night.”
“You’re cool. I get that. So, you here by yourself?”
“Yep. You?”
“I met a buddy here earlier, but I’m by myself now.”
Xairin was curious. “So, not trying to be rude, but why are you talking to me?” Xairin looked around him and pointed at other guys. “You’re all muscular and, I’m not, and that guy over there is, so again not trying to be defensive, but just curious.”
The man smiled and looked around the club. “Yeah, but you’re a redhead, and, I’m in the mood for a redhead. Never had one before.” The man kept his snide approach. But his smile was welcoming.
“So... you’re looking for sex then?”
The guy instantly burst out laughing. “Isn’t everyone here, aside of course from those that came in here with someone. Besides, after the world almost ending, who wouldn’t want to get laid tonight?”
Xairin had flirted with the idea of having a one nighter before he got here. He hadn’t had sex in over a year, and it was an enticing offer. Even if the man had just scoped him out because of his red hair, why not. But it would have to be at the beefcake’s place. He wasn’t about to chance another crazy one-night stand that wouldn't go away, know where he lived. “Tell you what, if you're hosting, I’m game.”
The man leaned in, “I wouldn’t have that any other way. Can I get you another drink while we waiting on cab? I can go ahead and request one, that or an uber.”
Testing the waters, he was a little cautious. “Long island.” IF the man bought him a drink, he figured this was the real deal and not someone playing him. It's just sex he thought, either way, if it was bad sex, or good sex, both would end a bad evening on a better note than it had been so far.
The man tipped his hand to Baxter. “LONG ISLAND.”
He then leaned into Xairin and whispered. “Go over and have a seat, at that couch over there, I hate sitting on these barstools, kind cramps my nuts if you catch my meaning.” Xairin noticed where he was pointing and rolled his eyes.
“Ok, but if you’re not over here in five minutes, I’m catching that cab by myself. On the defensive, remember?”
By the time, Xairin had made it through the crowd, and sat down, the towering man was already behind him with that drink. He sat right beside Xairin, handing it over playfully. “You, uh, sure you want this drink? You sure?” He said teasingly while Xairin tried to grab it. “Cause, you know, if those defenses don't come down, how am I ever going to get in your pants?” Xairin grasped the glass and took a swig.
“There ya go.” The man said.
“So, what’s your name?” Xairin asked.
“Well if we’re going to have that type of conversation, I can roll that out, it's fine. But I’m honestly just interested in nailing a redhead. But, hey... My name is Greg, I work construction, I go to school part time. What about you?”
Xairin was kind of put off feeling like being just a piece of meat, but again, he did flirt with the idea of tonight being a one nighter and did at least appreciate the man being up front. “OK, well, my name is Xairin. I’m a massage therapist, and yes, a one nighter was something I kind counted on the tonight turning into.”
“Well then, we have an accord. “I have to warn you though, It may get rough. Could get bloody, even.”
Xairin scoffed, “That big? Cause in my experience the more a man says that kind stuff, the…. You know what, no expectations tonight… After the night I’ve had, sure, some rough sex would be fucking great!”
The man smiled. “So, no boyfriend, family, what's your deal other than being a massage therapist?”
Xairin took another drink before answering. “I thought you were just in it for the sex?”
He waited for Xairin to take another sip before replying. “Well, you seem different from the last guy I ended up with. Besides, Xairin, that's different, I like that, never met anyone named that before.”
“My mom named me, and no, no family.”
“That sucks.”
“I
s what is I guess.” Xairin took another sip. The sip he took, seemed like it packed a punch. It was like all of his drinks hit him at once. The room instantly began spinning. “Uhm. Wow... That's strong.” He said. Meanwhile his vision became blurry. He couldn’t even make out the man’s nice stubble, and cleft chin any longer. “Man, did you ask for extra……” Xairin couldn’t even finish that line.
“What’s the matter Xairin? Drink too strong for ya?’ The man asked. His words echoed. “Just follow me Xairin, I got you….”
_____
The Downtown Sewers.
Xairin’s head was splitting. It wasn’t a sensitive headache, but a hangover of sorts. He felt a tapping on his face, like someone was constantly flipping his checks. His vision was still blurry. He couldn’t make out anything at all. He didn’t even realize he had been asleep. Please tell me I didn't’ pass out during sex?” He thought.
He realized he wasn’t somewhere uncomfortable. His knees were hurting. Xairin then realized he was sitting upright, on them, and his arms were out. Someone had two distinct grips, one on his left holding his arm up, and one on his right, doing the same. Xairin was confused. “What?” He mumbled.
Everything around him echoed to the point that it hurt his ear drums. He started to realize he could hear muffled sounds of cars nearby, and a rumbling noise that followed. He was cold and wet. He could tell his clothing was still on. “What…?” He mumbled again.
“YO GREG, its waking up!” Xairin heard. Again, echoing into his ears. The voice that said that was different, deeper.
Xairin felt a smack across his right cheek. He couldn’t tell where it came from because of the darkness around him combined with blurred vision. It hit him so hard, that his tongue tasted blood, and his neck popped sending a sharp pain down his cervical spine and into his left shoulder. “What the hell!?” He yelled out.
He couldn’t make out anything, other than whoever just knelt down in front of him, was wearing a black shirt, and blonde hair down by their shoulders. “Wake up sleeping beauty, it's showtime.” The voice said.
Xairin’s jaw hurt. It stung, as did his neck, and the grips on his arms were getting tighter. He felt like he was being crucified while his knees rested on something cold and hard. Xairin felt frightened in that moment. He knew he had been hit, and he wasn’t dreaming. “What’s going on?” He mumbled while trying his best to catch his bearings.
“What’s going on, is you wanted it rough, remember?” Greg’s voice taunted. Xairin could make out that distinction.
“Now, you asked for this.” Greg said calmly, right before he reached forward and pulled Xairin’s hair with one hand and began punching Xairin in the face with the other. Xairin felt his hair rip, his nose break, and his head felt like a punching bag, going with the flow of the blows. His fearful emotion turned quickly to terror.
“Fucking fags can’t take a goddamn hit.” Greg taunted.
Xairin could only see out of his right eye when the thrusts to his face had subsided. What he could make out was worse than before, the blood dripping down his face had intensified his blurred vision with red stains. He couldn’t really feel his face at this point but knew the dire circumstances he was in at least. His body trembled. The word fear didn’t hold enough context in that moment to explain how Xairin felt. He was in a state of shock. He had heard of things like this happening in the past, but like so many, he was arrogant in the line of thinking. He thought that it could never happen to him. “This can’t be happening? Why is this happening to me? Why me? Why did they pick me?” His thoughts evolved from that to the worst-case scenario. “Are they going to kill me?”
His brain replayed that meeting at the bar, followed by Topher’s warning to avoid going home with someone he didn’t know, people had gone missing. Now, Xairin was next. Never in a million years had Xairin ever thought he would be a victim of hate related crimes, but hearing, that phrase, Fucking Fags, can't take a goddamn hit.” Reminded Xairin of his arrogance in the matter.
This night went from worse to horrific, now he was sitting in something wet and couldn’t make out where he was plus he knew his face had just been used as a punching bag by a towering brute that had clearly drugged his drink. Xairin had been drunk a handful of times in his life, and never once, experienced everything going blurry like that, blacking out, and then waking up not knowing where he was. The feeling he had, no words could properly convey. He knew two men were standing there holding his arms, one hitting his face, and possibly another man behind Greg, and a fifth behind the ones holding him, he couldn't be sure.
His teeth started to ache worse than any toothache he had ever known. His left eye was throbbing, his nose was now burning, forcing him to choke on some of the blood dripping down the back of his throat. He spit. The feeling of fear of the unknown, and if he would even survive this crossed his mind. Topher’s words, “People had gone missing.” echoed in his mind, but not loud enough to muffle the echoey voices going on around him since the drug they used was still working.
Before Xairin could ask an obvious question, he wished to know, a simple one, if they were going to kill him, his thoughts were interrupted by another smack across the face. Xairin spit blood again.
“Oh look, it's a spitter.” A voice taunted from behind.
“Hey Greg, you ready to bareback this thing yet or what? I have plans later dude, get it on already.”
Xairin had just been called an it, a thing. He didn’t need to ask if he was going to survive this now. He was a thing to them, an it. Nothing more.
“Why are you doing this?” Xairin asked. He had to at least know why, no matter how painful the response might come out.
Greg knelt, and grasped Xairin’s face, forcing his lips to pucker out. Xairin could feel the man’s grip, he had some sort of rubbery glove on, it was pulling his skin. “You asked for this Xairin. You wanted it rough remember?”
“I didn’t want to be beaten to death…” He whimpered.
Greg laughed. “OH, you won't Xairin. You shit lickers like things up your asses, right? I told you I was going to be rough, it's just not going to be my dick in your diseased shit hole.”
Greg got up and paced. He was on a mission, it was clear to Xairin about that. “You fucking fags man, you’re nothing but tumors. What do you do to tumors? You remove them, remove them before they can fucking spread to the population at large. This world got a clean slate Xairin, a clean fucking slate after WW4, that virus was like god cleansing the world all over again. We got to start anew Xairin, and now, you fucking tumors are growing all over again, and we need to stop that shit right now. Tumors have to be removed before they make this new world malignant all over again. So… Don’t take offense dude, you’re just sick, and we need to quarantine that shit right now.”
Xairin whimpered. “You’re acting like gay people choose to be gay. Science proved it's a gene several years ago you deranged sick bastard!”
The man scoffed. “Oh, we know… Right now, you sick fucks can buy an at home artificial womb, and have children of your very own. And to make matters worse, Global Care will front the costs. Simply prick your goddamn faggoty shit licking fingers, and put it on a slide, stick it in, and watch your twisted genetic materials produce the next generation of those carrying your genetic blights into the world. It's time to end this.”
Greg laughed. “We’re on a mission Xairin. Soon, our work will be heard worldwide. It will give courage back to the people to do something about it and do what the lord said, kill the abominations before it's too late and end those who would taint this beautiful world.”
A voice scoffed, “Damn goddamn beasts. Think you're so fucking superior. The whole lot of you are nothing but abominations.”
“You bastards, with your goddamn rights, thinking you all are even human. Makes me goddamn sick.” Another voice yelled.
“FLIP HIM!” Greg yelled.
Xairin felt several kicks to his sides while his stomach rested on what he knew now was co
ld wet concrete. To make matters even more disgusting, his face had landed in something cold, thick, and felt like mud, but it wasn't. He was in a sewer, he knew that now, and now shit had been forced into his mouth as someone pressed his head deeper into the putrences flowing in the culvert.
Xairin gagged on the fecal matter that was being forced in his face. He was smothering in it. I CAN'T DIE LIKE THIS!” He thought. Xairin figured this was it, drowning in shit, being kicked and beaten, forcing his next breath to be being filled with a mouth full of human waste, sucking in the diarrhea his face was pressed down in. This was just the next horror they had planned, what happened next caused his eyes to bulge in fear.
Someone was stepping on his head, and two feet were pressing his arms down to where he couldn’t move. His pants, he could feel them being ripped off of him, then his boxers. Xairin recalled the man’s sick promise that something was going up his ass, but it wouldn’t be the man’s dick. He felt a pain, something ripping him open. It was dry, ripping his sphincter as it went in deeper. Whatever it was, was blunt and round. Xairin could only tell that it was solid, cold and very hard. He thought it was a baseball bat, or possibly a really thick bottle, if it was a bottle it had to be a liquor bottle given how big it felt and how deep it went. The pain from it, was horrendous. He could feel every muscle being ripped as they thrust it in, without any lubrication whatsoever, and given the size of it, it was doing the damage they intended it too.
Second Genesis Page 6