by Lucas Alpay
They heard someone get out of the restaurant, it would be an irrelevant moment but the one who got out called their attention.
“What you doing there?”
Both of them looked back and saw a man wearing a gray blazer and a smile that eclipsed the splendor of the sunny sky. Fritz suddenly felt that he wasn’t an ordinary person, an ordinary Joe with that face. He could be someone in the modeling business or even an aspiring actor. He’s beautiful, he thought. And most of all, he was full on androgynous.
“My girlfriend dropped an earring while walking the dog,” Fritz said, his hands dusting off the residue of blood and soil.
“Oh,” he said. “Speaking of dogs, be careful.” He pointed out the sign posted at the wall of the side of the restaurant. Beware of dogs. “The dogs are tricky things here, the owner basically bred them as monsters—maybe it’s for the robbers,” he chuckled. “One dog got away last month, almost killed a man. Not a robber, though.”
“Thanks for the advice,” this was Natasha.
The man smiled again. “Take care.” And he waved goodbye.
Chapter 15
Something was wrong with their car.
Fritz was the first one to see that it was askew on the side of the road. He lifted a hand towards Natasha and put a finger on his lips. He looked if there were people around or even the robbers the man had been saying. There were traffic on the far side of the road and he could see some people walking by the next three blocks. But there wasn’t anyone near them to push the car so that one of its tires ended up on the sidewalk.
They moved closer and what they saw seemed to become stranger and stranger. There were claw marks on the hood of the car, huge bite marks on the fender, and there was a big dent on the door beside the driver's seat.
“Have you brought any weapon?” he asked Natasha.
Natasha hurriedly went to her side of the car, opened the compartment on the front seat, and pulled out a small revolver. She went back to Fritz and gave it to him.
“Check the tires,” he ordered and examined if there were bullets in the gun.
“Two of them are flat,” she said, her voice trembling. “What are we going to do?” She was now sweating, and when Fritz put a hand on her face, she was very cold to touch.
“Don’t faint on me, Natasha,” he looked around, assessing if they were in danger. And when he found that there was no obvious threat, he looked for another mode of transportation. Which was easier said than done, because the closest car to them was yards away. But beggars can’t be choosers, so Fritz immediately forced himself to recall his car-robbing skills, the breaking the window glass, and starting the car without the key.
Out of nowhere, someone was suddenly running towards them. He was wearing a helmet, and a mask. On his back was a short sword. It was an assassin, but this time it was wearing all white. Fritz held up the revolver and started shooting. The assassin efficiently evaded the attack. Fritz then waited for him to be close enough for a clean shot, and when the moment was right, something stopped him in pulling the trigger. Behind the assassin, a Rottweiler the size of a horse emerged from an alley, its teeth bared, its ears folded.
It started running.
“Get in the car!” he yelled to Natasha, and they both bolted inside their damaged vehicle. No choice now. He started the engine and stepped on the gas. All they needed was to get to a speeding traffic—if they succeeded at this, then there would be two possible scenarios: the dog would be scared of the fucking cars (which by the second was becoming very unlikely for Fritz) and the assassin would follow suit (because if he were the assassin then he wouldn’t kill anyone in front of a crowd, would he? Because if the assassin did this, that would be nonsensical and completely out of context of being an assassin of stealth. What’s the point of it all?). Or the opposite which would be these daylight dreams not giving a shit and continuing in their mission to tear their limbs apart.
But Fritz had an alternative. “I want you to shoot him,” he gave the gun to Natasha.
“What about the dog?”
“All we need is to get to the traffic, let’s just hope the dog is a pussy and turn back.”
Natasha looked at the gun for a few moments, but finally complied. She exposed the upper half of her body outside and started shooting the assassin. Within three shots, a bullet landed on his neck, pacifying him permanently. But the dog was still there. Faster than their flat-tired vehicle.
When they were finally nearing the curve, Fritz slowed down and, too, the giant dog behind them. He then turned left, leaving the dog behind, intimidated with the speed of countless cars. And as they moved farther, Natasha shook his arm and pointed at the sidewalk.
“Fuck…”
They saw the beautiful man smiling and waving at them.
There were now changes in their original plan.
They didn’t continue to the next office they would be visiting. Fritz decided that they would be going back to the mansion, because he would be demanding bodyguards for them, reinforcements per se. (And he had something in mind; The Giant Man. Indeed, people might look at him, but as the progression of today’s events had been revealed, he just didn’t give a fuck anymore.)
They ditched the car on their way and called Bruce to send a decent one and service them to the Mansion. Bruce gladly said yes, not to Fritz but to Natasha. When they reached the mansion, they finally saw newborn sandmen roaming around, confusion shouting from their eyes—they were infants in adult bodies. Natasha said that they were scheduled to be created and very few of them were alive a few years back, sent to places unknown and made to be a reserve army if ever an attack like this would happen.
Because of this, Fritz remembered how he came to be, but it was all blurry to him now. He remembered his creator, yes, but he didn’t remember how he was actually like. And remembering the very first day of his creation? It was like throwing a stone to the moon, impossible to attain even how much he tried to do so. So he could only imagine what these new dreams were thinking. They all could speak, well as a matter of fact, they could even curse at you. It was mandatory for every elect to put a complete vocabulary in their skulls, if not then you would be teaching these newborns ABC and twinkle little star in the same tired tune. There were only few things in this class of sandmen didn’t have, and they were the vital things: the experience, the skill set in killing, and the stomach for the second one. They were, without a doubt, in for a very bloody ride.
A man was shouting to the newborns to line up, and he asked if they fucking understand him when they didn’t move and continued roaming around. Eventually the man made a warning gunshot in the air, and that finally caught their attention.
“Who is that?” Fritz asked Natasha.
“One of the sandmen in the offices near here,” she said, eating some crackers again, bringing a little of pink on those lips.
“What office? The office we just gone to?”
“No, I don’t think so. Could be the other two.”
The sandman (that could be from the other two offices) held up a paper and said: “In here is a list of names,” and then he picked up a glass bowl containing hastily folded pieces of paper. “Get a paper here, when you do, choose your name by putting your number next to a name on this list. Comprende?”
Do they know ‘comprende’?
They went straight inside and even found more sandmen, this time they were sandwomen, being instructed by another female. All of them were like models in black robes, most of their expressions were like from someone who had an IQ of 35. It was like a sacrificial convention in the name of hell and all the devils in it, but it was heaven for Fritz. Beautiful and dumb, all of them; Mark would die in jealousy. There were brunettes, blonds, ravens, and all in different physique. Fritz sighed inwardly. He could feel a twitch down there, and then he imagined what dirty things he could possibly do tonight.
But then Natasha spoke behind him. “Send me to my room, I want to rest first before meeting with Erik…
” her lips were pale again—the crackers, of course, were only palliative.
Fritz nodded and held her elbow for support. He suddenly forgot about those hot women roaming around, those who were still dumb and virgin. They are all fucking virgins… but Fritz strongly felt that they didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the woman beside him, a girl with a good shot, that killed that white-cloaked assassin. He wanted to lay her in bed and put a blanket over her, brush her hair and tell her you should eat, do you want any soup? He didn’t want to fuck her now, he wanted to go on with all of the courting and respect that only a true gentleman would do. He wanted to know her better.
When they were in her room, Fritz told her to sit and asked her if she wanted anything. “A sandwich,” she said and pointed at a small kitchen in her room. That Fritz did, he chose a combination of tuna spread and ham (no tomatoes, because that would cause her a stomach upset). He also brought a glass of water to push the bread down. After all of these acts of serving, he finally sat next to her while her eyes stared at the brown floor, her jaw chewing.
“What’s the good in this job?” she suddenly asked.
Fritz thought. And he thought, but he couldn’t find any. Yet he needed an answer, because if he couldn’t produce one, then he might lose this girl, not for his own gain mind you, but the holistic meaning of actually losing someone. He had seen sandmen lose their sanity and ask why they were even doing what they were doing. Because there was no happiness in it, they were just dreams with no souls. Fritz could also think of countless ideas on why not to go on—so if that was so, why was he still here?
“We protect the humans… from killing themselves,”… is that the best you could do? “You know the stories.”
Natasha nodded.
“Powerful dreamers created powerful myths in the past,” he continued, “legends… actual dragons the size of a train, angels and demons. With that power people would not progress, people would be selfish. A man would dream up his dream girl and he would love that girl forever, but they won’t have a child. It’ll mean extinction for them.”
“… What is it for us then? In the news I’ve seen for all of these years, humans keep killing themselves no matter what. Why don’t we let them? It’s in their nature. We protect people who are stupid, who don’t learn from mistakes. Why?”
Fritz nodded and smiled, like how a big brother would do. “Because without them there’ll be no us.”
But it seemed she didn’t hear him. “Now we are being killed… someone now knows about us… a human knows about us, and he has the power… Why is he doing this?”
“That’s why we are here. We’re here to know.”
Chapter 16
He was dreaming, but just like in any other dream, even though its oddness was screaming at you, even though there are disturbing things that shouldn’t be, you wouldn’t think of it as a dream. You know it, you’ve been there. So Fritz stayed in the dream, letting himself be its puppet for this slumber.
His steps clamored against this old floor; it could be wood, or it could be metal, he wasn’t that certain. There was a light at the end of this room, or maybe it was a hall… it was his destination. And at the end, he could see something. Two figures were standing, both of them still as the dead. When he got there, he stopped, just a few steps behind them. It was a man holding the girl’s hand next to him. They were looking at the light as if they could see something beyond. And it seemed to Fritz that this dream still hadn’t decided if it would be a good one or a nightmare.
The man suddenly talked. But he didn’t just talk, he was laughing.
“It was dark, unlike this. I had the most confidence in myself. I felt like a king in every minute… in every moment. I loved hunting. Have you loved it too?” he paused. “I loved seeing the blood of a creature that once lived, I loved it fresh…” Fritz could now hear him cry. “Loved… a tense slave to the past, I guess… I guess for me that is the truth now… I loved it, just like how a woman loved her past lovers… but I should tell you now that this love wasn’t an addiction. Take it as it is—Love. A complication. The only reason I lived, the only reason why I kept living…”
“Love…” Fritz whispered.
“Yes, the love of killing… of doing whatever you can to anyone because there shall be no consequence waiting for you, no judge to judge you, no people to say that what you did is wrong… But why I felt wrong, feeling wrong?” there was a knife that appeared in his other hand. He moved it towards the girl’s neck. At least that was what Fritz thought.
He stepped forward to see their faces in the light. What he saw made him regret his action. The blade passed through the girl’s neck.
The girl smiled at him and said: “Hello… Hellohello.”
He woke up with cold sweat covering his face. When he looked at where he was, he was sitting upright on a bed. Beside him was Natasha, a lovely girl who was now sleeping soundly with lips that were now close enough to pink. After a few moments and a few heaves, he searched for a bathroom inside. When he located one, he stood up and went to it.
He looked at the mirror above the sink and opened the faucet. And in that mirror he stared for a very long time, watching, deciding. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for to see in his face, but he kept looking, as if checking if he was still him. Fritz had this sometimes, whenever he was searching his reflection, he felt that he was someone else, he felt that there was no meaning on things, that it didn’t matter whatever he did. He didn’t feel soulless, he only felt the whole world was a big joke…
With his weak knees, he put his hands on the rushing cold water and splashed his face. He looked back at the room and saw an empty bed.
“Are you done?” Natasha suddenly asked from the outside.
Fritz got out. Natasha, in turn, entered and, just like Fritz, washed her face. Fritz watched her in fascination as she tied her hair in a ponytail, and he stood in awe as she looked at her face to inspect any damage from earlier, any imperfection that could ruin her already perfect features. It was an effort for Fritz to look away.
“I want you to keep resting, okay?” he finally said. “I have a matter to take care of.”
Natasha first gave him silence, and then, “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to talk to Erik… I’ll tell you the details when it’s over, or you can ask him himself…” Silence again, then:
“Fine…” it was a weak reply, but Fritz took it and removed himself from her room.
He got to the stairs immediately and when he was on the ground floor, the scenario was still the same; countless newborn-sandwomen, the sandmen, he reckoned, were still outside. With hasty steps, he searched and asked where was their maker, Erik. No one seemed to know, so he went to the forest where he had first met him and trekked amidst poisonous plants and the sounds of wild animals.
He searched for minutes, and when he felt he was too far gone to get back, he looked behind him, regretting that he didn’t mark where he had passed through. And then the minutes turned to hours, Fritz by now was cursing and kicking every moist pile of leaves he saw. He wasn’t afraid of this, of getting lost, he was just pissed and frustrated. This then made him think of an idea, an idea that told him that this place wasn’t real, because it could be that he was still dreaming, his mind tricking itself so that he wouldn’t face the realities waiting for him in the Waking.
Like an angel appearing behind him, “You’re looking for me,” Erik suddenly said.
When Fritz looked at him, he was wearing white, and held by his hand was a glass of golden liquid. Erik noticed him admiring his drink and offered him some, if he wanted a sip.
“No, thank you…” he looked at the trees, “how big is this place?”
“I don’t know… not that big, I think. It could be that you are just going in circles.”
“Could be…”
“Now, how was your investigation for the day?”
“I think I saw the elect causing all of this…”
Erik’s face turned grim. He nodded and held up his hand and told him to come, come towards the thick trees behind him. Fritz did, and when they walked just a few meters they immediately, suddenly, abruptly reached the mansion.
“What the fuck is that?”
Erik smiled and drank. “It’s a defense mechanism of this house… this place. It’s only for unwanted guests.”
Fritz couldn’t understand the term “unwanted guest”, it seemed a paradox within itself.
They returned to the second floor, and there went to Erik’s room. It was just like his and Natasha’s, big and could be lived by a family with eight children. And when Fritz saw the bed, there were two newborn-sandwomen lying naked, their nipples pink and hard. They weren’t shy when they saw them. They were just innocent.
Fritz saw a few splotches of red on the white sheets.
“Go back to your groups,” said Erik, and just like that, they went outside the room—still naked.
They sat on chairs facing one another and started the conversation. Fritz didn’t mention anything about the girls and just reported what they had experienced (or escaped) earlier. But the highlight of their conversation was everything he could remember of that mysterious man—the possible rogue elect.
“How can you say that?” Erik started.
“We saw this man before and after the attack on us today… Which by the way almost got us killed!”
Erik gazed at him sternly. “I’m very sorry to hear that, but should this be my fault?” A pause. “How’s Natasha?”
“She’s in her room… she needs food. Vomited a couple of times. She’s new to the dead bodies… gore. To everything.”
“I’ll make sure she’ll get some meal.” He drank. “Do you remember this person’s face?”
“I do. It’s very hard to forget a face like that. I’m going to ask someone to illustrate it in paper…” and then Fritz thought if he could go back to the scene of the crime and ask for the surveillance footages.