“No, you don’t strike me as the infantry type.”
There was a hard knock against the other side of the wall. “You planning on hammering through?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Dominic heard the explosion. Felt the heat against his face. Something heavy hit him in the side of the head. And then everything went black.
2
Dr. Blake Scroggins stood at the back of the crowd, his arms were wrapped across his chest and his palms were sweaty. The tips of his fingers dug into his biceps and left pale imprints across the dark flesh. The wind was swift, blowing in from the craggy valley below and kicking red dust up and over the tops of his shoes. The sun blazed away overhead. The thin film of neon colors blanketing the sky did little to alleviate the wretched heat that was beating like a hot iron against the top of his skull.
The crowd was growing restless beneath the sweltering sun. They stood on the tips of their toes and wedged themselves between one another, all trying to get the best view of the show taking place near the edge of the Scar, a sheer faced cliff sporting a multi-hundred foot, fog covered drop, ending on a floor of jagged rock.
Mother stood beneath a gnarled tree towards the edge of the cliff, her white robes dragging the ground and cutting shallow paths in her wake as she paced back and forth. To her left and right stood her personal guard; her sons, Zach and Toby.
She stopped pacing and held up a hand.
“Mother speaks!”
“She speaks, quiet!”
“Speak to us, Mother!”
“Children of the Creator, we are gathered here under the command of our Father, the maker of all, to carry out a sacred ritual.”
“Blessed be the Father!”
“Praise Him!”
“I love you, Mother!”
She raised her hand again, hush immediately followed. “Our Father has commanded us to be good stewards of this new world. We do that, first and foremost, through multiplication. When He cleansed the old world with fire he did so because we, His children, had cast aside that commandment. We cast it aside in the name of our own selfish desire. In the end it cost us, dearly. But though the price of our sin is high and the times we live in desperate, we need not fear. Together, you and I, we will root out the Curse from among our people and destroy it, for His glory!”
The roar of the crowd hit Blake like a lead blanket.
“We will follow!”
“We are with you, Mother!”
At the edge of the Scar a young man and woman stood, trembling, naked, bound, and blindfolded. The heels of their bare feet hung precariously over the valley floor. Mother approached them, slowly. She leaned in, sliding her head left and right as she observed their naked, quivering forms. She reached out and cupped one of the woman’s heaving breasts while her other hand latched on to the man’s testicles. The man winced. The young girl recoiled, almost plummeting backwards over the ledge. Mother steadied her. “Not just yet, dear,” she said. “The Curse is so strong, so deceptive. Look at these two. They appear to be healthy breeders, strong vessels. Notice the droop of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the hips, they’re hips built for breeding.” Mother moved her hand down the young girl’s torso, leaving red stripes with her fingernails as she came to rest on her left thigh.
Blake averted his eyes, a familiar tightness taking hold in his chest.
“Mother, please,” the girl choked, the blindfold catching her tears, “if you’d just give us mercy, we’re sorry. Please, we’re so sorry.”
Mother placed a finger to the girl’s lips. “Hush now, child, He still has plans for you.”
Blake’s breaths came shorter and faster. The sweat from his brow slid into his eyes, stinging and blinding him. He needed a drink, but his water skin hung empty at his side. He wanted to go home; back to his wife, his daughter, his practice.
Mother turned back towards the devout swarm, with their awe struck faces, their tongues hanging from their mouths, drooling like stupid mutts. She approached slowly, deliberately, savoring the attention. Zach and Toby readied themselves to defend her against any overzealous disciples.
“Mother!”
“Mother, we love you!”
Her red mouth curled into a smile and she once again silenced them with a flick of her wrist. “Who among you witnessed this man and woman take the covenant twelve months ago?”
Lies; it’d only been eight.
“I did, Mother!”
“I was there!”
Mother nodded with approval. “Let it be noted that their union was witnessed by our Father and by man.” Mother took another step forward. Her platinum blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight. Her eyes broke out like silver moons against a midnight sky. She stood on the tips of her toes, searching the faces before her. Blake shrank down; he’d been dreading this moment. “Doctor Blake Scroggins, come, stand beside me.”
Heads turned. Hands pressed at his back. They shuffled him forward, greeting him with unwelcome smiles of recognition. The bile rose further in his throat with each beaming face and each shout of adoration.
“Brother Scroggins!”
“It’s a fine day, brother, a fine day!”
“Bless you, bless your work!”
Mother watched his approach. He emerged from the front of the crowd and straightened his glasses across the bridge of his nose. “Mother,” his greeting was barely a whisper, a raspy and choked one at that.
“Doctor, why do you hide?”
“I, well,” his top lip shimmered, his bottom lip trembled. He dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “I’ve been to so many of these I, well, I didn’t want to hog space.”
“Nonsense, Doctor, nonsense. You’re a vital tool in the hand of our Father. Were it not for your work we could not root out the Curse. I expect you to be up front and present during each Fall. No more of this hiding in the back. It sends the wrong message. Am I understood?”
He nodded, wringing his hands together, the inside of his mouth like sandpaper.
Her eyes danced back and forth in their sockets as she studied his face, the tip of her pink tongue running a circuit around her lips. “My dear Doctor, you look simply frightful. Is everything okay?”
He wanted to charge past her and leap from the edge of the cliff, he could put an end to the nightmare, and pray that he woke up before he hit the bottom. “I’m fine. It’s the sun. I’m afraid I was a bit overeager on the hike in and ran my water skin dry.”
“Oh well, why didn’t you say so? We can’t have you going faint on us. Toby, bring me your skin, the Doctor is thirsty.”
Toby didn’t hesitate. He shuffled across the small expanse of dirt with his rifle propped up on one shoulder and shoved the skin of water against Blake’s chest, causing a few droplets to splash across his arms. “Here you go, Doc. Drink up.”
Blake’s stomach lurched at the thought of swapping spit with the black-gummed, gap-toothed Toby. “No, I think I’m—”
“Drink!” Mother snapped.
Toby wiggled the tattered skin back and forth in front of his face with a mean-spirited little giggle. Damp fingerprints dotted the pale brown body. The mouthpiece was dark and wet, marred by teeth indentions; Blake could smell the unpleasantness. His eyes went from Mother to Toby, trying to find mercy.
There was none.
Blake sighed and reached for the skin. Toby released it into his custody and stood back to watch the show, arms crossed, a satisfied little grin pulling at his mouth. Blake bared his teeth as he parted his jaws, refusing to make contact with the disease ridden thing. He held his breath as the sour water cascaded down the back of his throat. He tightened his muscles and forced himself to swallow, trying to subdue his gag reflex. No use. He coughed violently and pitched over at the waist, strings of mucus dangling from his nose and mouth.
Toby cackled and was joined by a few rogue jeers from the crowd.
“That’s quite enough,” Mother snapped, grabbing the water skin from Blake and sla
pping it against Toby’s chest.
Toby shrugged and marched back to his post, raising an arm to the crowd in exchange for a weak applause.
Mother lifted Blake up under one arm and held his face close to hers. “Better?”
He nodded, afraid to speak, afraid of covering her face with the bile sitting at the back of his throat.
“Good. I don’t expect that we’ll have any more problems going forward, will we?”
He shook his head, breathing in deep through his nose.
“Good, that’s good,” her voice was hushed, “they depend on you nearly as much as they depend on me. They need to see you. Your conviction is their conviction. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother, I understand.”
“Praise Him! Now, go, make the declaration.” She stood aside to let him pass, her hands folded at her waist.
Blake swallowed hard and started towards the couple. Time slowed. The wind sprang up hard and fast from the valley and played a high pitched timbre in his ears. The sand crunched underfoot, announcing his approach, the drum call of the executioner. Toby slapped the barrel of his rifle against his palm like a jailer’s baton as he passed.
“Doctor Scroggins,” the man, arms bound at his back, leaned forward as the words toppled from his lips, “please, help us!”
“Back, now!” Zach charged in, jabbing the man in the chest. “You let Doc do his work and you keep your mouth shut!”
The man whimpered and scooted backwards, head down, shaking. “Please, Doctor,” the man said pitifully, his lips pressed together, his voice barely registering above the valley breeze, “we just need a little more time.”
“Hush, there’s nothing I can do for you, you’re just making it worse.” Blake made a show of running his hands over the man’s chest and down his torso, checking the width of his hips, and the droop of his testicles, lifting them in his palm and tilting his head as if truly examining them for any obvious deficiencies. “I am sorry. All I can promise you is that the quieter you are and the less you resist, the easier it will go for you and your woman.” Blake stood, looked to Mother, and nodded, verifying that the man was without physical defect. He then made his way over to the female.
“It’s okay honey, it’s okay,” the man called to her.
Blake surveyed the young woman’s body, cupping her breasts and checking her genitals in the least invasive manner the task set before him would allow. He had to put on a show for the crowd, for Mother. But he took no pleasure in it, no liberties. The woman didn’t speak. She just wept softly. Her shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath. Blake was thankful for her silence, thankful that he didn’t have to face down her desperation. He finished the examination quickly. A rush job if there ever was one. Mother didn’t seem to notice. If she did, she didn’t protest.
Just keep it together. It’s almost over.
He stood and held his breath. He shut his eyes. Everything vanished, if only for a moment. He was home, with his wife, his clinic, with his daughter shifting toys across the floor while he sat back in his favorite chair and watched with a cool drink in his hand.
“Doctor Scroggins, your declaration, please,” Mother’s voice ripped him from the shore of his oasis.
He collected his wits, cleared his throat, and began the declaration. “Before our Father and our esteemed Mother, I declare these two fit to multiply. I have followed their union closely over the past twelve months and I declare that there are not, nor have there ever been, any physical or spiritual ailments that would have kept them from conceiving and bearing children. I declare that it is only the Curse that has left them barren. I declare this before our Father and our Mother, may my soul be forever judged.”
“I recognize the authority of this declaration,” Mother replied.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to no one in particular.
Mother turned to the crowd. Her hands held high. “Let the Fall commence!” She rolled her hands into fists and pumped her arms.
The congregation joined her, gnashing their teeth, hungry. They began to chant.
“The Fall!”
“The Fall!”
“The Fall!”
When Blake made it back to the front of the crowd he dutifully turned to watch Mother. He did his best to block out the noise, to ignore the pats on the back and the praise.
Mother took her place between the couple, her back to the valley, her robes whipping wildly about her legs. “Our Father has spoken. The Declaration has been made. It is His judgment that we carry out here today. Not our own. Do the Cursed have any final words they would like to say?” Mother turned her head to each of them as Toby and Zach approached.
“Mother, please, mercy? Kill me, but please, not her.” The man fell to his knees and began crawling towards Mother’s feet. He was met by Toby’s steel toed boot. He collapsed back on to his bare ass, his nostrils spraying carnage.
“You should beseech the Father for mercy.” Mother stood before the woman. “Do you have any last words, sweet child?”
The naked woman rattled like a sheet on a clothesline, her pale skin was littered with purple bruises and lacerations, evidence of the torture she’d endured. “Father, hear me in my time of need. Be not far from me. Cast not your eyes from me. Shelter me from harm, for you know my heart. You know the truth.”
Mother brought her hand to the girl’s cheek, using her thumb to brush away the moisture beneath her eye. “You’ve got the right idea.” Mother brandished a three-inch knife and slid the blade, upside down, into the girl’s lower abdomen, just above the pubic bone. The girl gasped as the cold steel broke her flesh. She hurled forward and cried out in pain, her chin resting across the top of Mother’s right shoulder. “Hush, child, it’s almost over.” Mother jerked the blade up and pushed in deeper, slicing through the muscle wall. Up some more, through the belly button, and then she stopped. Blood flowed steady down the girl’s legs and feet, where it then mixed with the dust. “It’s over now child. It’s over. No more pain.” Mother withdrew the blade and stood aside to face the crowd again, propping the girls sagging body up beside her. “Behold! The womb of the cursed!” The wound yawned and the girl’s eyes rolled back in her head as the color drained from her face.
Blake kept his eyes pointed straight ahead. He stared through the horror, at the waves of heat rising from the winding valley. He could feel Mother watching him, inspecting him, ensuring that he was setting the example and not hiding from the spectacle.
As the girl rag-dolled Mother stepped to the side and let her body roll away over the cliff. She turned towards Toby and nodded.
The naked man was curled in a ball, his knees fastened against his chest, wailing over the demise of his fallen spouse. Toby kicked him hard and uncurled him, then he kicked him again, ushering him towards the edge. “Over the side, come on.”
“My… angel… beautiful angel…”
“Yeah, you’re about to see her. Maybe you both can grow wings and fly off into the sunset. Come on, don’t make this hard.” Toby kicked him again.
The man groaned and rolled once more.
“Fall!” someone shouted from the crowd.
“Fall! Fall! Fall!”
“Get on with it!” Mother shouted.
Toby cocked his leg and gave the next kick everything he had.
The man’s body left the ground and disappeared from view.
Mother gave a curt nod of approval, “His will has been done.”
“It is done!”
“Praise Him!”
Yeah… praise Him…
Blake turned and pushed through the crowd, back towards the settlement, back towards something that resembled sanity.
Back towards home.
3
Dominic was suspended by his arms in the center of an unfamiliar room. The tips of his toes brushed against the sandy ground as he swung back and forth, trying to get a read on his surroundings. The air smelled of damp earth. The room was complete darkness except for
the faint orange glow spilling through the barred window of the door in front of him. His head was pounding. His memory was corrupted. He remembered shooting Rudy and the gunfight that followed, he remembered Hause’s voice and then the explosion. After that, everything became much choppier.
Long hallways of white light.
Bumping down winding staircases that felt is if they’d never end.
The heavy chains being locked around his wrists.
It was all a fever dream.
There was a wild draft of air coiling the length of his body. They’d stripped him of everything; his weapons and his clothes, every last article. It was the only set of clothes he owned and he’d grown partial to that coat.
A ring of keys sang in the lock. The hinges on the door groaned as it slowly sank backwards away from its frame and into the shadows. Light slid across the floor like a toppled bucket of golden paint. Hause sauntered into the room carrying a torch. He dropped the torch into a metal holder on the wall. It bathed their surroundings in a steady flicker of flame. He approached Dominic with his hands on his hips. “We are three-hundred feet below the surface,” Hause said, like some enthusiastic first day tour guide. “Can you feel it, everything sort of… pressing in? The quiet? I come down here to unwind sometimes, to set my mind straight.”
The pain in Dominic’s head kicked up hard and fresh as Hause’s voice bounced about the empty room, scratching at his eardrums. “Looks like you forgot the electricity.”
“Why waste the juice? Those that end up down here are hardly deserving of such creature comforts.”
“Yeah… well, fuck you too, Hause.”
“You’re not quite as quick witted now that you don’t have a gun in your hand.”
“Let me down, I’ll be back to form in no time.”
“Hmm, not just yet.” Hause stood before him with crossed arms, staring at a point just below his neckline. “I knew you were a soldier. But I have to admit, when I saw that tattoo, even I was a little taken back.”
Dominic closed his eyes and dropped his head. He’d forgotten all about the tattoo. Damn thing had been there long enough. It was like a foot, something that remained far from his mind until he stepped in shit or stubbed his toe. But that was it. He was done. Sure, he could buck and scream, or even beg for mercy. He’d seen plenty of men do it. Had seen plenty of men go out like infants, all snotty and teary as they bled out through their bellies. That wouldn’t be him. It was a hell of a thing to be going out naked and chained to a ceiling, but he wouldn’t let them have the last little bit of dignity he’d managed to store away over the years.
The Fall of Man: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 1 Page 3