Thanatos

by Carmen Kern

  Arle’s flashlight lit up the ground.

  Reshawna stopped suddenly and covered her mouth with her hands.

  Hades jogged up beside her. This was a different sort of carnage, one without blood and torn flesh. Wood chips scattered the ground. Broken and splintered pieces were blown from his torso. Kush’s hand made small movements. Arle stood frozen beside his brother. His mouth dropped open, marble eyes shedding small wooden shapes that could only be tears.

  Reshawna ran down the bank and crouched down beside Kush. She gently moved his head, rolling him on his side. He blinked up at her with one eye. The other had been ripped out, along with half of his face. “Kush, don’t talk. The fliers messed you up. I know you can’t feel anything, but I need you to be still.” She leaned down so all he would see was her. “We’re going to collect all your parts, all the ones we can find. I know that sounds bad, but we will fix you up. It’s going to take time, so I need you to be patient…blink if you understand.”

  The wooden man closed his eye and opened it again.

  “Okay. There isn’t much I can do for you out here, not tonight.”

  Hades made his way down the side of the ditch to stand beside Arle, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  Arle jolted as if he were a fish caught up in a line. He turned and faced the god. “I lost him.”

  “You didn’t,” Hades replied. “He’s alive. Reshawna said—”

  “No, not lost him as in dead. We always fight together, side by side. I lost him while I fought off a flier…I tumbled, wrestled the beast, its fangs snapping and snapping.” Arle was lost in memory. “It was faster than I’d ever seen one move, its wings swiping around like a parachute, and I couldn’t see anything but black until…I spun, lashing out with my knife again and again until it fell at my feet. And after…I didn’t know where I was. I found my gun and kept fighting, but I didn’t see Kush. I didn’t see…”

  Hades didn’t know what to say. He never did when it came to stuff like this. He squeezed Arle’s hard shoulder and then dropped his hands. “You should check on him. Let him see you.” That much he could offer.

  Arle nodded and went to be with his brother.

  Reshawna called out to Ron and Don, who stood at the top of the berm. “We need all the pieces we can find. Get one of the trucks down here for Kush.”

  The two men disappeared.

  “What do you need me to do?” Hades called out to Reshawna.

  The air steamed when she exhaled. “Help them collect all the pieces.” She walked toward Hades. “I’ll see how the others are doing and get the injured loaded in vehicles.” She glanced over her shoulder at the retreating brothers and then turned back to Hades. “Keep your eyes on Arle, will you? Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. He’s hard on himself at the best of times. And we need him clear-headed. This rebellion doesn’t work without him.”

  Hades scratched his cheek through his matted beard. “I’m not a psychiatrist. I’ve got my own counselor to help me deal with my daddy issues. I’m not telling someone else how to handle their feelings.”

  “I’m not asking you to psychoanalyze him. Just be there if he needs someone.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Hades replied, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Thank you,” Reshawna said and brushed by him, heading down the ditch to check on the rest of the survivors.

  A truck lurched over the lip of the berm and crawled down the short slope. Ron and Don hung out of the windows, scanning the ground, mindful of the injured and the matchstick pieces strewn about. They stopped a few yards away from the brothers.

  Hades closed his eyes, shutting out everything for just a minute. The infusion of power he’d received was only a small trickle now, an occasional zip-zap between synapses. But the crushing ache, the heaviness of his broken body, had been lifted. He was lighter. A little closer to being himself again. “I’ll get back to you, Pers. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He grinned fleetingly.

  A throat cleared. “Hades, god of the Underworld?”

  Hades snapped open his eyes. Don stood in front of him, looking up.

  “I’d like you to meet my other brothers, Ton and Jon.” Two beings who looked just like him popped out from behind Don.

  “It’s our greatest pleasure,” they said as one.

  And it was pleasure. A surging tide of glorious power flamed within Hades. This time a more gradual, rolling sensation flowed through his body.

  Hades offered them a sly grin. “Please say there are more of you.”

  The brothers looked at each other, confused. “We’ve got a family, but there are only us four brothers.”

  “Can’t blame me for asking.” Hades placed a large hand on each of their shoulders. “Could you shine the headlights up the bank here? We could use some light to find the rest of Kush.”

  “I’ll drive,” said Jon.

  “Last time you drove we ended up in the river.”

  Don rolled his eyes. “I’ll move the truck. You two help collect the…well, you know.” His brothers slumped their shoulders.

  Hades watched as dark figures scurried from one injured being to another. Some carried first-aid kits while others offered drinks of water from flasks. “Why don’t you get started cleaning up the hill. I’ll see to Kush and then come help you.”

  The brothers nodded vigorously, their large eyes filled with awe. They hurried away, up the bank, moving methodically through the brush and scanning the ground for wooden pieces.

  Don jogged through dead grass that reached up to his chest, leaving behind a trail of trampled brush that led up to the truck.

  Hades watched him go, mesmerized by the characters he’d met, by the night, by the starlit sky. He breathed in the cold air, sucking it in like it was his cigarette. “Damn, I miss that thing,” he said. He sighed and suddenly remembered something. He ripped off his glove with his teeth and flipped his jackets up, exposing the inside lining of the bottom layer. He felt around for his bident, found the end, and pulled it out of the small tear he’d made. It had turned from a charred black color to a dull sheen of titanium. It grew longer nestled in the heat of his fingers. The weapon, forged by the cyclopes and honed by Hephaestus, longed for blood. It sang of wars fought and beasts slain.

  Hades hid it beneath his hands, willing it smaller, coaxing it to rest. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching and then tucked it in his jacket pocket, leaving it more accessible. “I’ve got the feeling I’ll be needing you before this night is through,” Hades whispered.

  They loaded the injured and regrouped. Hades rode in the pickup bed along with Arle and Kush’s broken body. They bounced and bobbed over the uneven terrain. And there in the distance, a hulking form of an abandoned mall grew out of the tundra. They planned to stop there to unload the wounded. The rest of them would travel on to the city.

  Hades caught himself nodding off. He sat up straighter, breathing in the cool air to stave off sleep.

  The night sky was mesmerizing, quiet, undisturbed but for the restless nightmares that roamed uneasily through this world, searching for minds to infest. Those who refused sleep were safe for the time being. But eventually, they would nod off into the land of nightmares.

  EIGHTEEN

  They were hundreds of meters above the ground. The sky split with purple lightning. Rain splattered on their bodies as they dove down to fly through the trees and closer to the ground, over fallen leaves and green moss that blurred beneath them. The buzzing drone of insects grew louder. Swooping to skim an overturned tree, its roots ripped from the earth, their compound eyes found the carcass of a three-horned beast, its skeleton bone white, polished clean by the critters of the woods. A hive grew up and around the remains. They wafted into a gap in the hive, dipping into the buzzing, the nocturnal hum of a swarm. Wings crashed around them like evil cymbals, and still they flew farther inside. Sticky globs of black goo dripped from above, coating their wings, weighing them down
and down, closer to the razor-sharp thorns below that threatened to pierce their small bodies. And yet, they struggled, flapping and fluttering toward a cold blue light…

  “Hades!” Arle shone his flashlight in the god’s eyes. “We’re here.”

  Hades sat up, his side sore from hitting the side of the truck as they drove over potholes and uneven ground. He shook the cobwebs of a nightmare from his head and got out of the truck bed. Most of the others were already offloading those who couldn’t walk.

  After the final count, seven of their own were unaccounted for. And five more were seriously wounded. Hades helped with Kush’s stretcher, moving him into a large mall lobby with dirt-covered marble floors and a cracked, empty fountain. The space had been made into a makeshift hospital years ago, Arle had explained while they jostled around in the back of the truck. Reshawna had scavenged what she could from other outlier towns, setting up a triage of sorts for those who might need it. Location was everything. The mall lay on the outskirts of the largest of these outlier towns, and the other smaller compounds were built around it. It was a safe zone. A neutral zone.

  “Arle, over here,” Reshawna shouted from the other end of a long line of beds, some with patients already lying down, others with clean sheets wrapped in plastic sitting on top.

  The others moved out of their way as they carried Kush to what looked like a workbench. Electrical equipment, plumbing parts, and woodworking tools were neatly displayed on rolling carts beside the far wall.

  “Come on this side, Hades.” Reshawna motioned them to the opposite side of the metal bench. “Put the stretcher on top of the bench then help me slide him off. Arle, you pull out the stretcher.” They lifted the sheet underneath Kush’s torso and placed him on the bench. The three of them stood beside the cot.

  “Kush, you rest,” Arle said.

  “You…go. Not using…me as excuse.” Kush said, his syllables hissing between some missing teeth. “Go.” He lifted his head slightly and let it drop with a thunk. He closed his eyes.

  “Kush, there will be someone with you the whole time,” Reshawna said. “Thrash will check on you every fifteen minutes. You need anything, you let him know.”

  Kush nodded once.

  She looked up at the others. “Nothing more we can do right now. We should get the others settled and then move out.”

  Arle continued to stare at his brother.

  “Arle, we gotta go,” Reshawna said, sharper than usual.

  “Yes,” he said. “You’re right.” He placed his wooden hand over his brother’s heart. “I’ll be back to fix you up.”

  Reshawna stood beside Hades. She gestured him toward the next bed. “Let me take a quick peek under your hood.”

  The god smirked. “I haven’t had an offer like that in way too long.”

  “Mm-hm. Look who’s all cocky. That’s what a dose of god power does to a person?” Reshawna moved around to the end of the bed. “Sit there and take your shirt off. I’m not one of your admirers.”

  “Pity.” Hades backed up to the neighboring table. He hopped up with only a brief discomfort in his side. Peeling off his jackets, Hades tried to take off his T-shirt but could only raise his arm to shoulder height. Reshawna help him slip it over his head. His body no longer glowed, but his skin was a healthier color of bronze, if a little pale. While Reshawna removed his bandages, Hades looked out over the space at the bustling characters, the structure and colors of the building, muted by dirt and time. A wide-open staircase behind the waterless fountain was flanked by matching escalators. “What’s up there?” Hades jerked his chin toward the second level.

  “Lift your arm, please.” Reshawna glanced up. “No one ever goes up there.” She snipped away the gauze pads. “There’s some clothing stores, a record shop—not sure who shopped there, nobody has time for that here.” Leaning in to take a closer look at his stitches, she said, “This here is the cleanest part of your body, I reckon. Those are some damn nice stitches, too, if I can say so.”

  “I’ve been dirtier.” Hades looked down.

  “Not exactly bragging rights.” She pushed his hand out of her way and reached for a brown bottle. “We can’t take the stitches out yet, but it appears…healthy. I have to say”—she poured a generous amount of liquid on a cotton pad and wiped down his skin—“I had my doubts it was going to turn out this way.”

  “So did I.” Hades watched her put a thin wrap on to keep the area clean. “How is it that some of you can believe in a god other than Thanatos? He’s your creator.”

  Reshawna stepped back from the table. “You should know that you can’t force someone to believe, whether you created them or not. There are those who will never believe in anything and others who are trying to find the right place for their faith. But everyone has to come by it on their own.”

  “Which person are you?” Hades asked, taking his T-shirt in his hands.

  “Don’t put that on. I’ll find you something cleaner.”

  “Are you avoiding my question?” Hades studied her with his endless black eyes.

  She sighed and cocked her head, taking her time to answer. “I haven’t found anything to have faith in. But we did pray and hope for a savior, someone to fight with us. And you showed up. Truth is, I expect that you’ll let me down. So let’s just say that the verdict is still out…and I’m still looking.” She patted his leg. “Let me find you that shirt.”

  Someone called out for their healer. She raised her hand and made her way down the row of beds. Hades turned, looking over his shoulder at the myriad of beings coming and going, moving boxes and bags from stacks to the waiting vehicles. Two or more working together if the load was too large. The space bustled with motion. More and more beings spilled out from different directions, none of them empty-handed. Some wore brightly colored raggedy clothing, others barely had a stitch on their bodies, appendages hanging and lolling or taut against their bones. It was a parade of the bizarre. Beastly muzzles, branched arms, clownish faces happy and terrified at the same time, enormous and shining mech bodies, distorted demonic faces, noseless and fleshy—they all moved with one purpose.

  Hades focused carefully. Something seemed off, like waving branches with no wind. There was nothing immediate, nothing clearly wrong—and then it hit him. No one argued or shouted at the other. Curses, violent fights, taunting, fury—he’d become so used to those things that anything else seemed a fantasy. Even his family, especially his family, had never been able to work together like this motley crew.

  Chuckling, he shook his head. “You wanted to create a world of chaos and horror, Thanatos. You can’t even do that right. Gods, Pers, I wish you could see this.” Sliding off the bed, Hades snatched up his jacket and pulled it on over his bare torso. “Time for a little shopping.” He wove his way to the motionless escalators and took the steps two at a time, flexing his god power. It was more of a gentle hum inside. The initial high was long gone. Without a recharge, it would die out. But for now, he’d revel in it.

  With everyone busy, no one seemed to pay attention to the god strolling down a near-empty second level. Three stores down from the landing, he found a men’s clothing store. The glass in the front window was busted out but cleaned up, the double doors removed from its hinges. The once-filled shelving and clothing racks were only half full. Hades scanned the store for T-shirts, walking slowly down the middle aisle. He noted the lack of variety in sizes and shapes.

  “No wonder you’re walking around naked,” he said, thinking about the multi-limbed beings below. Lucky for him, there was plenty to choose from in his size.

  Hades dressed in new and gloriously clean clothes. Black military-style pants, a long-sleeved gray T-shirt, and a distressed brown sweater over top. “Flames, I need a shower,” he mumbled. He avoided the mirrors. Beside the cash desk, he found a gray scarf and plenty of hats. “Oh yeah.” He picked up a black beanie. “Pers, I think you’d even approve of the hat if you saw the state of my hair.�
� He grinned and pulled it on, tucking his gnarly hair behind his ears and out of his face. “This will do.” He kept his boots and his jacket. They’d made it this far with him; they’d make it to the end.

  Hades walked back down the stairs to the main floor.

  Arle strode up to him and said, “I’ve been looking for you. I see you found the clothing shop.” Arle looked behind him at the crowd of characters he’d assembled. “It’s time to introduce you to the masses. You gods like to make a scene, no?”

  “Some of us are a little more low-key than others.” Hades tugged at the edge of his beanie.

  “Low-key or not, it’s time for the surprise I promised you,” Arle said to Hades. Turning to face the crowd, Arle waved his long arms in the air to get their attention. The characters quieted. “I have a couple of announcements. We leave in twenty minutes. Reshawna will assign some of you to stay behind and tend to our patients. The rest of us will load the few remaining boxes of ammo, and we’ll be on our way. But before we go, I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine.” He brought both hands down to point at Hades. More than one hundred sets of eyes followed his gesture. “Welcome, Hades, the god of the Underworld.”

  With the declaration that there was a god among them, their eyes saw what they previously hadn’t. These were characters made by another god and not of Hades’s domain. They owed him no natural allegiance; they didn’t recognize what he was. Until now.

  Some bowed in awe. Others fell to their knees. Prayers of gratitude flowed from their mouths.

  A piercing light blinded Hades. He threw back his head, his back arching from the power. Darkness moaned and screamed, pulled from their perspective corners, from hidden crevasses, from underneath benches and beds and tables and feet. Shadows bent toward the god, stretching until they snapped from their anchors and slithered to their lord. A vaporous cloud circled Hades, licking at him, pouring into his mouth and ears and eyes. It was both of this world and of another.