Don’t be so scared, Harlan. If ever you yearn the ecstasy of my company, all you ever need is ask. Otherwise, I won’t touch you. Baphomet’s speech was paced, toneless, without emotion, and yet I felt pinpricks spring across my body.
I moved towards Harold’s daughter and draped my coat around her. “She can’t walk.” I saw the deep bruising, the bewildered fluttering of her eyelids, the places the demon had branded her flesh.
I lifted the girl, totally unsure whether she would die from a fever—with her slung over my shoulder, I could smell infection—and went from the garden, Aggie calling after me. And I could hear it all as I met the street and crossed it and reentered the ruins.
Although arduous with the squalling, quivering body of the girl, I moved as quickly as I could. “Shh,” I told her and myself, “Shh.” Perhaps I was shaking too.
I heard the protests of Aggie, first she asked for me, then there was nothing but the siren call of the betrayed, the shrieks, the howls in response to Baphomet’s tortures. There would be water again on the compound. I moved away and readjusted the girl on my shoulder before I stumbled over my own boots. We fell hard on my knees, but I kept her in my arms and muffled a cry. An old prayer whispered from my lips, and I pushed myself to my feet before going on.
There was no lying to myself of what I’d done. What I’d done too many times. It never was easier. Never. Nothing like youthful fresh flesh placates a demon. It’s a deal that I’d made before and a deal I was certain I’d make again. There were no heroes or beauty in the world. No wonderful overcoming or examinations of the indomitable human spirit.
The girl’s pained expressions dampened to mere whimpers alongside flashes of weak, flailing hysteria; her infection was bad, and I was glad for her continued pain, because it meant she was alive. Once I’d found a place, perhaps a mile out from the garden, deep in the buildings of the tall ruins, I deposited her on the sidewalk then looked over her. She looked thin, famished (soul famished), and her eyes could not hold a concentrated gaze. Only after surveying the surrounding area, I withdrew my water gourd and put it to her lips slowly, being sure as to not drown her with its contents—her eyes shut and she supped at the mouth of the dead gourd, not even having the energy to hold it with her hands. I examined her deep cuts; a few scabby places around her wounds demonstrated healing, but others looked too deep and I imagined that’s where the infection was.
My voice whispered, “These are antibiotics. Please swallow them. Even if you need to chew them, take them.” Unsure if my words had registered, I pushed the pills to her lips and her closed eyes contorted funny before I slotted the medicine past her teeth and offered her another drink of water. As expected, she chewed while drinking. I lifted her once more and walked tiredly to the safehouse me and Aggie had shared the previous night. Dead weight is easily the worst part of it. The girl’s limp body hung off my shoulder and reminded me that every step I took was an infinitely small conquest.
“Stop it,” protested the girl.
“Shh,” I said.
“I want to go home.”
“Don’t we all?”
“It’s scary out here.” Perhaps she’d momentarily gained lucidity.
“Shh. You’ll attract the scary things. Just be quiet.”
It was dark by the time we reached the building with the safehouse. I fashioned a sled from an old piece of discarded sheet wood so that I could mobilize the incapacitated girl up the many stairs to my hidden place. She’d not liked it when I’d secured her to the board with the rope and with every thump up the stairs, I half expected a creature to show, but nothing happened. I hoisted the makeshift sled by its connected rope, and it took until pitch black till we shuffled into the safehouse. With the door secured, I turned my attention to her, removed my jacket from her naked shoulders and set to cleaning her wounds with alcohol and bandaging what I thought was necessary—even through the smell of her blood, the antiseptic, and through the smoke I’d lit, I could smell the brimstone wafting off her. It was treacherous, but I gave her a spare fit of clothes I’d brought and while the threads hung off her too largely, at least she’d been given decency. With her tucked into a bedroll, I watched through the same windows I’d peered from the night prior and watched the glowing eyes of creatures that parkoured across tall structures, or fought amongst themselves, and every so often it seemed those eyes stared back at me through the dirty glass, but I hoped not. I secured the door each night but was hopeful the deal would keep them at bay.
Only a few times did the Boss’s daughter stir throughout the night, but she seemed to rest well enough as anyone could within the circumstances. There were a few times I checked the heat off her forehead and felt the temperature rising. Stripping a bit of cloth off my shirt sleeve, I dampened it and draped it across her forehead; if she’d been so unlucky as to catch a fever then she’d die for I had no measures against it.
Sleep came in short spells for me, and I burned too much lantern oil, because there was a fantasy within me where I could go back for Aggie; it was common.
It was morning then night then morning again and I was breaking what little bread I had for a tough sandwich when I heard her stir from her slumber; I watched as the young woman fumbled her hands above her prone body, touching nothing, then her eyes fluttered and she pushed herself up so as to bend into a sitting position, arms buttressing her so that she could slowly examine the room. I moved to sit near her, after placing coffee over the cooking stove. Her hand moved to her face where wounds would assuredly become scars, bad deep ones that might never heal right (demon wounds never healed right all the way) and she flinched as her fingernails poked at the lines down her cheeks.
“What’s this?” Her voice was gravelly, monotone, and dry.
“You’re awake then?” I asked.
“I think so.”
“Good. How are your limbs? Notice anything about them that are off? Can you feel everything?”
Her jaw clenched. “I don’t know if I’ll feel anything again.”
Ignoring this, I returned to the stove and pushed the heat higher. “Can you eat?”
“I’m thirsty.”
I motioned for the water gourd by her bedroll. “Can you eat? You should eat something.”
Greedily, she removed the cork and drank heavily, lines of water streaking down her chin. After removing the gourd from her mouth, a long sigh escaped her and I awaited her response, but instead, the only thing that came was a wet gurgle as she slammed the water to her lips again.
“The sooner you eat something, the stronger you’ll get. The sooner you’re strong, we’ll hit the road home. I imagine you thought you’d never miss home as much as right this second, huh?”
She cradled the gourd in her hands and smacked her lips; although her eyes were weary, a tad unfocused, she seemed self-possessed enough. “I think I’ve met you before. I think I know you.”
“Maybe,” I shrugged, “Lots of people in Golgotha have met me, but not many people know me well,” I laughed but couldn’t smile, “That sounded cheesy.”
“You work for my dad.”
I shook my head. “I do things for the Bosses sometimes. I don’t work for anyone. Never have. But sometimes a Boss needs something, I guess I’ll do it.”
“What do you do?”
“I rescued you.”
Her cold stare fell from my eyes till they drifted to the wide windows that overlooked the ruins. “I always thought it would be beautiful. Like a big, beautiful place. I thought it would be home. I thought it would be like dreams.”
My eyes followed hers where we could see the overwhelming cement-work that’d been done to create the ruins; walls were hewn to show skeletal rebar and every broken window was like a black tunnel. Each building was a tombstone. “It’s a graveyard.”
“Lady said burning incense would keep the monsters away. She told me it was the only way to keep them away.” Her voice was small with a hint of betrayal.
“Incense is good for ceremonies or preaching, but if incense was what you used to keep them away, you might as well have learned one of Lady’s incantations and done a little chicken dance.” I huffed. “If they want you and you’re there for the wanting, they’ll take you.”
She took in more water until the gourd was empty and then she held her stomach.
“Careful. If you drink too much all at once like that, you’ll end up with pains.”
She massaged her legs and removed herself from the innards of the bedroll to sit atop it. “Thank you.”
I swallowed hard and pulled the fresh coffee from the heat. “You should eat something. Do you prefer bread or canned beans—I could smack together a sandwich for you. The choices are slim at the moment, but there’s a bit of dried meat too.”
“Why don’t they take you?”
I gritted my teeth into what was hopefully a welcoming grin. “Hush. You should eat up and try to conjure whatever energy you have. I know you’ve been through it, but there’s more to come till we see home.”
“Home?”
“Indeed.”
“I came out here with Andrew. Did you find Andrew?” Her eyes momentarily illuminated with hope.
“Who’s that?”
Her eyes drifted. “He was going to be my husband. He said we’d be married.”
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“He’s definitely dead.” There was no way to tell if her sweetheart was still kicking or not, but there was no use in arguing over it.
“Oh,” she whispered. There was a pause where she seemed to study the bedding she laid on. “I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought for sure that there would be something hiding out here in the wastes.”
“There’s stuff hiding alright.” I began to shrug it off but stopped myself when I could see the tears forming in her eyes. “There’s always hope, I guess.”
We took to eating nearer the large windows overlooking the large mouthy chasms and between swallows there were spits of conversation, but her attention was largely unconcentrated. At least her hunger was good, and she drank well.
I smoked while she interrogated me further on the state of the world.
“All I know is Golgotha. You’ve been around, right? Is there any good place left?” She was practically pleading the question.
“I ain’t been all over exactly. It’s not so simple. If there’s a safe place on this earth left, it won’t be long till those monsters find it and make it worse.” I watched a puff of smoke from my cigarette plume off the glass window inches from my face. “Who knows, huh? Maybe there’s a good place. Maybe there’s a place we go after life? Maybe that’s the safe place? My best advice? Don’t hope for it. Make it. Make it safe in the place you know. Do it in Golgotha and never leave those walls again. There’s nothing for you out here.”
Her voice was small in the wake of mine. “You sound bitter. I don’t know how you could say that. That’s why I left home. I thought—we thought there’s gotta’ be a good place still left. Maybe a place by the ocean.”
I shuddered at the thought. “The ocean?”
She nodded.
I shook my head. “Don’t even try it. You’ve heard the stories of what it’s like.”
“Those are just stories to scare kids.”
I sighed. “And I’m sure you thought the stories of these ruins was just to scare kids. I’m sure you thought you knew it all.” I rubbed the cigarette dead against the window. “Take a hint and stay home. We hole up like rats or we die like ‘em.”
A thought crossed her expression before she could enunciate it, “I remember your name,” said the girl, “It’s Harkin or something.”
“Harlan?”
“Yeah, that’s right! You’re Mister Harlan.”
“I guess.”
“I’ve seen you down in the town square sometimes. You like to start fights. Lady told me to stay away from you.”
“Hmph.”
“Well, never would’ve thought you were such a crank. You are quite the pessimist.”
“No, I’m an optometrist.”
“I think you mean optimist.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re very dull and angry-seeming.”
“That’s a lot of words coming from a rich girl I pulled out of a hole.”
The room was quiet before she changed the subject once more, “Well, don’t you want to know my name?”
“Sure.” The word was plain.
“I’m Gemma.”
“A pleasure.” A moment of silence. “You are aware that your father’s caused a fuss on the home-front because of your adventure?”
She shook her head.
“He shut off the water. That’s why I came to find you. He said he wouldn’t relinquish the pipes till his daughter was home. You have caused quite the problem.”
“I-I didn’t know.”
“’Course you didn’t. The haves rarely think of how their actions might affect the have-nots.”
“Well—okay, fine but there’s other places out west too! More than these ruins. More than Golgotha too. I heard from travelers and traders that there are whole other places with different ways of life. Why don’t people go there? Why should my father have more say than another?”
I nodded. “Sure, there’s a place out west where they raise sheeps, chickens, or goats; that’s where the demons stalk worse than anywhere. And even further west—northwest to be precise—there’s where the medicines and wizards hail—a city called Babylon. There’s other places, but you wouldn’t have the faintest idea of how to get there! If you did, you’d have no standing! You’d be no better than any peasant in those places. Golgotha’s where your family is. Where your station is distinguished. You’d be a fool to give it up.”
She remained quiet for only a moment, studying the lines on her palms. “Surely there’s better places than home.”
“I’ve seen some,” I shook my head, “If you’re looking for a better place, wait for death. At least the walls are tall, and the guns are big.”
We rested there at the waypoint for a handful of days; fevers began to take her sometime throughout the night. It would be smart to get her home before it got worse.
We set out just as the sun crested some unseen horizon, sending shadows long and darker; there were points when hugging the sides of pitch-black walls, that it remained night even in day within the dead city. Gemma was slow and I took note of her knees or elbows quivering due to whatever strain might be placed upon them with our traversal. I remained as calm as I could as we shifted through the morning chill, through hell, through the uncompromising screams of distant mutants or demons echoing off the walls. Every so often those howls would come, and Gemma might freeze where she was and I could see that if only for a moment, her eyes shrank, her throat swallowed, and she looked small and scared, then it would be as though she was totally unbothered, and she’d throw her shoulders back and continue following me.
“Are you winded yet?” I asked after several hours of climbing old wreckage and pushing across rubble.
“No,” her speech was gasped yet tempered, “Not yet. I’m fine.”
“Don’t be stupid.” I stopped, put up my hand and motioned for her to take a seat on a nearby stone. We sat for a moment, and I passed her the water. A few of the last drops ran the length from the corner of her mouth to her ear lobe and I winced at the loss.
“I’m ready to go again.” She moved to rise, and I put my hand on her shoulder, snatching the empty gourd from her.
“Don’t act silly now. There’s no reason with all the sun we’ve got. I hope to make it to Golgotha while there’s still light, but that does not mean I intend on dragging your corpse with me. If you need to relax, relax.”
“If there’s nothing better in this world, then what’s my corpse matter?” Gemma cut her eyes at me and stood to move away from me.
“Woe is you!” I felt anger rising. “Let’s go then, but if you fall out here, I’m done dragging your ass around.”
“Don’t.” She shrugged.
The travelling was slowed. I caught a strange glint off Gemma’s eyes when sun shafts landed across her face.
“Are you feverish still? How warm are you feeling?” The brief thought of touching her forehead graced my thoughts.
She didn’t answer and instead pushed on and so I did the same, maintaining a healthy habit of checking that she was following behind every few seconds.
Without another break, through heavy breathing and through sweat, we met the edges of the open field around Golgotha nearing early evening, and I saw the fortified walls cloaking the base of the city’s structures far out. I came to a stop while Gemma attempted to continue walking. I snatched her by the wrist, stopping her. Her head lolled around to look at me although I’m certain she didn’t really see me and she cut her eyes hard, yanking her hand free of mine. “Don’t touch me. I see home. It’s home. You said it’s important. We should go hide like rats.” Her jabbering came from the mouth of someone protesting through the haze of a dream.
“No. I need to signal that we’re coming. The men on the walls will see us through their scopes, but that doesn’t mean a stray bullet won’t find us.” I removed the sheet of aluminum Boss Maron had given me days prior and unfolded it until the thing was large as parchment sheet; I waved the aluminum flag overhead and began walking forward, grabbing Gemma’s hand again. She did not fight me and instead staggered along, her foot tips tracing lines in the dirt. Normally, I might’ve checked through binoculars that the men on the wall signed back, but keeping ahold of Gemma was more important in her delirious state. “We’ve still got enough sun in the sky that they’ll know its us from the reflection.”
Just as the words left my mouth, darkness overcame the landscape and I felt cold for it wasn’t night that came, but a massive shadow; I felt the wind of something immense and pulled Gemma closer to me. Looking up into the air, there was the great winged beast—a thing I’d only seen once before and never so close to a human bastion. Its several clawed fists hung in front of its chest, forelegs muscled and prepared for snatching whatever unsuspecting prey it might find; the demon’s great head was that of a serpent and the wings which arched from its back gathered wind beneath their membranes; each stroke it took overhead left a dust fog in front of us and I could scarcely make out the innumerable writhing tendrils which danced off the creature’s body. The distinguished sound of the wall’s gunfire registered across the open land, and I felt Gemma fall into me. Leviathan circled against the angry sky, casting its tremendous shadow across us. Examining Gemma, I could see her fever had overtaken her and she’d fallen unconscious.
“I told you goddammit! I’m not going to drag your ass across this field! Wake up!” I shook the unconscious girl. Her eyelids flickered. “Wake up for Christ’s sake.” I slapped her hard and nothing and I shook her some more and pleaded. Leviathan’s scream shook the ground beneath us.
I moved across the open field as quickly as my legs would allow; with the addition of Gemma’s dead weight, I could pull on her limp arms only so long before I knelt before the shadow of the beast and hoisted her over my shoulders. I ran, top heavy, and imagined my feet leaving solid ground. Loud bangs were the signature for muzzle flashes from the wall that I could scarcely see through the sweat in my eyes.
There was no protest from Leviathan, not a care in response to the barrage of munitions.
Artillery whistled through the air and the ground shook once more while I staggered over my own weight to glance up at the beast as it took a broadside shot to its black torso and although the wound it received seemed critical, it remained unfazed while tar-colored flesh shed off the beast, plodding all around me. The warmth from the explosion kissed me like hot breath while the smell of rotted chicken filled the air and Leviathan’s blood rained over us as it adjusted itself in the sky. Dark blood ran granular and rough down my face and maybe Gemma mumbled innocuous cries—still I continued through the muck. Another artillery round struck the creature’s left wing, leaving behind a smoldering hole in its thick membrane, sending it forward into a nosedive to the ground. Its trajectory arched overhead till it slammed in an explosion of sand far to the left and the sun beamed once more. Its cries were the thousands (if not more) souls it’d devoured, screeching not like a dragon, but a village of tormented folks removed from this world and placed in another; it was the screams of strangled ghosts; the wild tentacles dotting its body writhed, snatching out at open air like whips and as thick as metal cables. The wind off the beast stung as it sent up sand in my face. Like a mistaken dog, it shook its head and propelled itself far and away into a leap that shook the ground till it glided over the horizon toward a place unseen.
I stood in the open field, certain I was dead; it was not until murmurs escaped Gemma’s mouth that I took toward Golgotha again.
The cheers of the men on the wall overtook the clacking of the main gate coming free. I fell through the doorway while some of the wall-men gathered around. The blood of Leviathan was already thickened in the sun, clinging off me with some of its meat stinking and steaming into my clothes.
“Take the girl home,” I shouldered Gemma off me onto the ground and she was caught by the men while I fell. People gathered round in knots of bewildered faces.
“Water!” some of them shouted as the spigots in town ran freely once more. Some cheered while I took tiredly in the square by the gate and sat on an arrangement of cinderblocks. Boss Maron was there, an old metal bucket banging against his left knee; he took the contents of the container and tossed it over my head. The water was warm but welcome.
“You stink.” Said the Boss.
“Why don’t you go shit somewhere else?” I was nauseous at the stench clinging to me—shaking my right hand, a hunk of the creature sloughed off my arm onto the ground.
Boss Maron took up alongside me. “Why don’t we just play nice some, eh?”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“What’s happened to the girl you left with? You left with one girl and came back with another? What a heartbreaker you are! Certainly, a man about town!”
Depositing my pack between my knees, I removed tobacco and took to rolling a cigarette. The paper kept tearing in my hands.
“Boss Harold has a plan for those boys. Those ones that took him hostage.”
“So?”
“So, I’m just glad you came back with the girl. Others are too.”
“It’s not like you went without water.”
A chuckle fell from him. “’Course not. There’s no reason I should. But some of the veggies in the hydro lab looked thirsty. It’s good you returned when you did. Anyway, we knew you’d come through. I can’t remember a time you haven’t.”
I bit a poorly folded cigarette and inhaled opposite a match. My eyes traced the people cheering in the streets out near the gate then up to the wall where soldiers stood with their rifles.
“What brought the dragon out?” Boss Maron wondered aloud.
“Who gives a shit? Why don’t you go pull its tail and ask.”
Among the revelers stood a figure in a cloak with a hood covering stringy gray hair. Lady was there in a moment, watching my conversation from afar, then she was swallowed by the crowd.