Station

by Jarrett Brandon Early

As he waited, the lights around the mansion began to dim almost imperceptibly. Hadder looked to the others, but none seemed to take notice. A warm breeze caressed Hadder's face and body, increasing in heat until it was uncomfortable, like standing in front of the oven door. Beads of sweat began to form on Hadder's brow and upper lip, forcing him to wipe them with the back of this hand. As the hot air was radiating from the darkened hall, Hadder stared harder into the black maw, searching for any sign of life.

  And then he saw it, so faint at first that he had to rub his eyes to ensure that they were not playing tricks on him. Two embers could be seen bouncing through the darkness, growing closer by the second, first mere specks, then floating marbles of glowing red. As those lit coals approached, the darkness congealed and split down the middle.

  A man of indescribable power emerged from the murk.

  He stopped his approach ten feet from Hadder and waited, accustomed to people needing time to adjust to his presence. Tall and slim, the man's skin was as white as the marble which surrounded him. His hair, dark red like dried blood, was slicked back, just grazing his shoulders. He wore a fitted suit of the blackest material Hadder had ever seen; it seemed to selfishly pull light from the room, refusing to reflect it back.

  A red button-up shirt was open at the collar, revealing a sparkling tattoo of light at the top of his sternum. It was a familiar form that tickled something in the recesses of Hadder’s memory.

  For some reason, Hadder's attention was captured by the symbol. It whispered secrets to him as he looked upon it, the light it gave off piercing his skin and fingering his heart. After several seconds that felt like minutes, Hadder was able to tear his eyes from the compelling design.

  Three other characteristics, however, were equally striking about the man before him. First, his eyes were like a blacksmith's forge, simmering heat that crossed from deep red to black and back again. They didn't look at you, but rather through you, to your innermost thoughts, fears, and desires, rendering lies exercises in futility. Next was a fiery red scar ran across the man's pale face from left to right, starting at his temple and ending at his jawline. As it pulsed gently, Hadder began to believe that it was a constant source of agony for the man. Finally, the man's age was completely indeterminate; Hadder couldn't decide if he was early middle-aged or thousands of years old.

  The man smiled at a joke that only he heard. "Salutations, Marlin Hadder. I am Albany Rott, creator of this fine city that you now call home." His deep voice matched his appearance. There was limitless power between words that were spoken with an unidentifiable accent, a mashup of all the world's various intonations.

  Since Rott already knew his name, Hadder skipped the introduction and remained quiet. "This small creature standing next to you, who was probably too rude to introduce himself, is Doctor Milo Flowers." The little man continued to stare daggers from behind his glasses. "Doctor Flowers was instrumental in helping me design and build the Caesars, an unfortunate necessity of the modern Station experience." The two Caesars behind Rott remained as they were. "I know he's a bit antisocial, but he truly is a brilliant synthetic biologist, second only to yours truly, in fact." Hadder thought he saw those blue eyes narrow at this remark, even hidden beneath the thick lenses. "Thank you, Doctor Flowers, you may leave us. I'll meet you in the testing room later." Milo Flowers nodded and then walked down the main staircase, cutting Hadder with another look before descending.

  Rott watched Flowers go, waiting until he exited the mansion before continuing. "What do you think of my doctor, Marlin Hadder? I know he's awkward, but we cannot deny his craft and his work."

  "He's not awkward."

  Rott's red eyes widened a bit, unused to residents disagreeing with him. "Really? Pray, tell me what he is."

  "What I meant was, he's not awkward for the reasons you think he is. He's not awkward because he is antisocial, although he probably is antisocial." Rott seemed to be leaning in; Hadder felt it more than he could see it. "He has the Rage. I'd be careful with that one."

  Rott digested what Hadder said, smiled to himself. "And what about my fair city? Care to share your penetrative insights."

  Hadder felt safe in assuming that honesty was the best policy when facing Albany Rott. "Other than the self-mutilation, monotonous debauchery, and murder, I quite like it."

  "I didn't sense any sarcasm there."

  "There wasn't any. I've made a home here. Or at least, I had made a home. It was stolen from me. I want it back."

  Rott began to pace. "And who took this home from you, Marlin Hadder? Surely you still have living quarters? Surely your precious Bar remains standing? Surely you still have a warm body to wake up to each Solay?" As Rott walked, Hadder noticed that two hatchets, black wood handles with crystalline blades, were tucked neatly into his belt on each side, kept hidden under his suit jacket. "Station still stands, does it not? How, then, has your home been taken?"

  "There was a murder several Haelas ago. A Riser named Skeelis snuck across the Skirt and killed Reena Song in The Soiree Noire."

  Rott paused his pacing. "An unfortunate crime to be sure. Reena Song was a good girl, and her presence will be missed deeply. Was she your woman?"

  "No, but she was my friend, and I've never had many of those."

  "Because of the Rage?"

  Hadder stepped back instinctively, surprised that Rott had seen through him so easily. "Yes."

  "And now, with her death, the Rage is making demands, is it not?"

  "It is."

  "And these demands currently dominate you, allow for nothing else in your life right now? Certainly not allowing for any semblance of home?"

  Hadder bowed. "You see it all, Mister Rott. I am unworthy of your presence."

  Rott grimaced, then moved in a flash, was upon Hadder in an instant, his pale face hot against Hadder's own. "Don't falsely fawn, Marlin Hadder. I have enough doing that already. What is it that you want from me?"

  "Doctor Flowers said that you already knew."

  "I want to hear it from your mouth."

  The embers in Rott's eyes had been fed, were now small flames. "I want to cross the Skirt, find this Skeelis, and kill him."

  "You seek retribution?"

  "I need retribution."

  "Then go. No one will stop you from crossing the Skirt. Your Rage will mix well with the Risers." Although Rott's voice had not changed, there was a dangerous undercurrent to his words, made more frightening by his proximity. "What do you need from me?"

  Hadder worked hard to maintain a brave face but was languishing under Rott's red stare. "I need permission to cross back into the Setting once my work is complete."

  "To reclaim your home?"

  "Yes."

  Rott retreated a few steps and then spoke again. "The Risers are an unforeseen byproduct of Station. Who could have known that such anger could persist in the face of an idealized existence?"

  "Thousands of years of history could have told you that." Hadder immediately regretted the words, was relieved when Rott waved them aside.

  "Anger, sure. But such violence, to foster and then embrace a dependence on violence, even my wildest projections did not see this. Tell me, Marlin Hadder, what makes you think you'll survive the Rising? You're a violent man, but these people live violent lives, steel sharpened daily on steel."

  "I'm not sure I will survive, haven't given it much thought, truth be told. But if I do survive, I want to know that I'll be allowed back into the Setting."

  "It's an almost certainty that you will die, Marlin Hadder."

  "I've died once already."

  "But I won't be there to cradle your fall next time."

  "I understand."

  "And this does not dissuade you."

  "This isn't a choice. Trust me, I'd rather not wade into a pack of weaponized animals. This isn't my idea of fun. But then things we are forced to do rarely are."

  Albany Rott stood for a moment, studying Hadder, before letting loose a laugh from deep within, showi
ng his perfect too-white teeth. "Oh, but there's something I like about you, Marlin Hadder! I speak your language, understand your words, but am, as of yet, not fluent. I would like to know more of you, discover that which remains hidden to even me. Very well, your reentry is granted."

  Rott walked again, began speaking as if to himself. "But I know this Skeelis, and the little mutation will be hard to kill. That is if you ever find him. The Risers don't just let tourists pass through. If you're not recognized as belonging to a particular Bar, you'll be butchered on the spot. And then if you do happen to locate Skeelis and do happen to kill him, how do you intend to get back? They'll not sit idly by and allow you to take one of their own."

  Rott stopped, a sign that a decision had been made. He looked to the Caesar on the right. "Otho, who was it that found this human incapacitated on the Skirt all those Haelas ago."

  The behemoth answered in the voice of a boulder. "I believe that was Cal, Father."

  "Of course, you're right. Otho, take Cal, and the two of you meet Marlin Hadder on the Caesar Bridge at Solay's break tomorrow. You're to accompany Marlin Hadder on this little sojourn of his and inform any Risers that he is under the protection of Albany Rott. After his business, on the slim chance that he survives, accompany him back across the Skirt and report to me."

  For a walking statue, Otho momentarily appeared confused. "And if we are attacked?"

  Rott waved his worry away. "By all means, those that break my edict can be disposed of."

  Otho bowed deeply, and Rott folded his hands together. "Then, it is settled. Our business is concluded, is it not?"

  Hadder, unsure of how to close the conversation, followed Otho's lead and bowed deeply. "Thank you, Mister Rott."

  "Good luck, Marlin Hadder. I really mean it. Should this be the last I see of you, I want you to know that I have enjoyed this conversation. Rarely do humans interest me."

  Hadder forced a smile and began to turn before Rott stopped him. "One more thing, Marlin Hadder. This home that you hope to reclaim, what will you do if, when you get there, it's not as you remember? What if the smells are different? What if broken glass cuts your bare feet as you walk? What if the creaks, once ignorable, now keep you up at night?"

  "Why would it be different?"

  "Maybe it's not different. Maybe it is you that is different. After you swim in blood, the bathwater will also change, will it not?"

  Hadder nodded sadly, understanding Rott's point while conceding that he had no choice. As he walked back down the red carpet, Hadder could feel Albany Rott's fiery eyes on his back, making calculations he could never comprehend in a language he would never understand.

  CHAPTER 18

  The Caesar Bridge differed significantly from the others that crossed the Lethe River. While those such as the Bridge Gab'Riel were works of arts, the Caesar Bridge was purely utilitarian. An add-on to the original blueprint of the city, the Caesar Bridge was where the Skirt crossed the Lethe River. Made of simple, sturdy timber, it was rarely visited by anyone other than the Caesars as they made their patrols along the Skirt.

  Marlin Hadder walked towards the Caesar Bridge, happy to be away from the stuffy atmosphere of The Royal Jelly. For the better part of a Solay and all Haela, Hadder had anxiously bided his time, getting new clothes made while waiting for his opportunity to cross the Skirt. Royal had little to say, knowing that any words of discouragement would prove futile, and Lilly Sistine had even less. A coldness had fallen over Lilly, sheets of ice that barricaded the warm heart that he fell in love with. He understood, however, that this was her way of proactively dealing with loss, extra padding for the inevitable hit that was to come.

  Unable to take the worried looks, disappointed glances, and angry words, Hadder had spent the majority of the Haela alone in the courtyard, practicing stretching and breathing exercises he hadn't done in years. When Haela began swelling with Solay, Hadder was already sitting on the front steps of The Royal. All he had to do was grab his jacket and be gone.

  As Hadder closed the distance to the Caesar Bridge, he could see that both giant Caesars were already waiting there for him. Otho, black skin and a silver mohawk, stood professionally, looking up and down the Skirt, perhaps more out of habit than anything else. He had a massive battle-ax strapped to his back, a figure cut straight from the pages of a D&D novel.

  The other Caesar must have been Cal, the one that saved him so many Haelas ago. Slightly larger than even Otho, he had dark orange skin, a mullet of blonde hair, and matching yellow muttonchops, making him look like an oversized 80's wrestler from Venice Beach. Cal had a much more playful demeanor than his solemn colleague, casually throwing stones into the river as he waited. While Otho wielded an ax, Hadder could see that Cal had two regular-sized swords crossed and strapped to his back, the pommels sticking out above each shoulder for ease of reach. While Otho donned his transparent vest, Cal went shirtless, showing off a variety of pale scars against his tanned skin.

  Hadder stepped onto the bridge and approached the monstrous duo. Unsure of how to interact with these intimidating constructs, Hadder simply nodded in greeting. "Otho. And you're Cal, I believe. I think I owe you thanks for saving my ass many Haelas back."

  Otho simply continued his intense searching up and down the Skirt. Cal, however, halted his rock-throwing and walked towards Hadder. He stared down at Hadder with purple eyes, an elephant surveying a mouse. "You want to kill a man." If Otho had the voice of a boulder, then Cal's was the sound of thunder.

  Hadder met the giant's stare and did his best to maintain his confident facade. "That's right."

  "He murdered your woman?"

  Hadder saw no point in arguing semantics. "That's right."

  Cal continued his stare. "You were ready to die, that Haela I found you. Are you again ready? Are you ready to die for this woman?"

  "I am."

  "Then let's go."

  Cal walked past Hadder and resumed throwing rocks held in his meaty palm into the raging waters of the Lethe. Otho stepped forward, a soldier ready for orders. "Direction?"

  Hadder's face screwed up in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

  "Direction?"

  "We're going into the Rising."

  "Direction?"

  Hadder looked helplessly towards Cal, who simply chuckled as he threw the last of his rocks. "He wants to know which way into the Rising." He began to move his arms. "To the left, or north, are Bars that belong to The Krown. To the right, or south of the Lethe, are Bars loyal to Ego Rounds. Which one you need to see?"

  "I don't know who this Skeelis works for. Which way would you recommend?"

  Cal shook his head. "Not how this works. Otho and I weren't built with a lot of what you call ‘free will.' So when my brother says, ‘direction,' he needs you to pick a direction."

  Hadder took Otho's silence for his agreement of Cal's assessment. "Well, I heard that this Ego Rounds is much more reasonable than his counterpart up north, so let's start with him and hope that Skeelis is there. And that he was acting alone."

  Cal moved to the side of the bridge, waving Hadder on towards the southwest. "You go. We follow. Someone other than Skeelis tries to kill you, we stop them. You get your revenge, or we bring your body back."

  "Simple as that, huh. Well, let's get going, fellas. I hear the Risers are like the Celebration Cluster, sleeping all Solay. Perhaps we can get there and back with limited issues."

  With that, Marlin Hadder exited the bridge and began to cross the Skirt to the south of the Lethe River. Cal and Otho followed, but not before sharing a look that spoke volumes. A look that said, this resident has no fucking idea what he's walking into.

  While the Station that Marlin Hadder knew, the Setting, was a place of indescribable beauty comprised of manicured gardens, enchanting plant and animal life, and tended pathways, the Rising was that same place, if it had been hit by a nuclear warhead.

  Where the gardens hadn't been eradicated, they grew haphazardly, breaking free of their designated a
reas to jut out from broken walkways and creep up the skeletons of long-abandoned Bars.

  The remnants of great battles could be seen everywhere Hadder looked. Bloodstained walls held up roofs that looked ready for collapse. Sharp cuts marred the faces of the few buildings left standing. Char marks along the ground told the tale of countless fires being lit, perhaps to light a battle, maybe to celebrate a victory.

  Bones littered the ground, some picked clean and others holding on to the last remaining strips of skin or hair. Manikin parts were strewn about, refusing to deteriorate at the same rate as the dead residents. At one particular crossroads, someone had compiled various manikin components into a makeshift scarecrow. While indeed off-putting, Hadder was unsure of the actual message it was intended to send.

  Near the Lethe, Hadder only found disaster, beauty devolved into a post-apocalypse existence. As the trio walked, Hadder could sense they were being watched from the shadows of broken buildings. "Cal, you see anyone out there?"

  The Caesar didn't hesitate or break his stride. "Spies. Ego Rounds' spies."

  "So, he knows we're coming?"

  "Of course, he does."

  "Does that worry you?"

  "Nothing worries me. But it should worry you."

  They walked south in silence for a while after Cal's heartening words. Soon, Hadder saw dramatic changes in the landscape. Where there had been chaotic destruction, there now seemed a bit of order to the ravaged city. Buildings that were damaged had been patched up, obviously more for utility than ascetics. Watchful eyes could be seen from upper windows, and some Bars even had small groups milling outside.

  Faces dirty with soot and grime, the Risers all wore matching black leather and fingered a variety of weapons, from iron rods to homemade machetes to darkened wooden staffs. They put on their best intimidating faces as Hadder passed. Without the accompaniment of Cal and Otho, Hadder was sure he would have already been met with violence.

  As they progressed, glimmers of tactical moves began to appear. Trenches were dug at various locations, forcing Hadder and his guardians to take a zigzag approach south. Barricades were set at several thoroughfares, made from the rubble of fallen Bars, and topped with sharped metal rods. Groups of Riser soldiers were stationed at strategic locations, some with crafted crossbows that made Hadder feel especially vulnerable.