Now, Middle America
The tableau of suffering laid out before Cal made him hesitate.
An old memory of what had been perpetrated by an evil cabal inside the farmhouse waited for him.
A young woman restrained on a table.
A handful of robed cultists gathered around her.
An impossibly tall figure standing off to the side.
The Vitiator.
Cal didn’t want to become part of the memory.
To share the young woman’s experience.
To share the cultists’ experience.
He took a deep breath.
“Damn it…”
A thought set the motionless figures into movement and he became part of the scene.
Terror became pain.
The defilement of the young woman’s body became that of her soul. She fought with the hope that someone, anyone, would save her.
Her mind broke and she went into shock long before it failed.
That had been a small mercy.
He felt the cultists’ eager hunger, excitement and satisfaction turn into mild disappointment.
It wasn’t as pleasurable for them when their victims couldn’t fully comprehend the debasement.
Suffering made into a commodity. Tangible power gained.
The cultists’ minds were vile places. Like fetid swamps full of decaying life and poisonous fumes. Venomous serpents lurked everywhere. Each step could’ve been his last.
He was them.
He was the young woman.
He was not the towering invader from another world.
The Vitiator was the sole mind he couldn’t grasp.
There was no experiencing the memory from that perspective.
He caught the Vitiator turning his head toward the dining room window from the perspective of the young woman.
Mercifully, much of her thoughts had drifted away from the suffering. It was only with dim recognition that she followed the Vitiator’s gaze as he turned his large amber eyes toward the young man watching from outside.
Cooper.
She saw him as if in a dream.
Despite the distance her mind had taken her in instinctive defense, Cal still felt her worry. A part of her screamed for the young man to run away.
He had enough at that point.
Seen and felt enough.
He shut the psychic imprint off and was greeted by the darkened farmhouse dining room.
The stains on the large wooden table took on greater significance now that he had experienced the echoes.
He took a long moment to compose himself before walking outside.
“As bad as we expected?” Nila said.
He didn’t reply immediately.
“Cat!” the toddler pointed toward the overgrown field of wheat a few dozen yards to the left.
He scanned the area.
“Well… I’ll be damned,” he whispered.
“What? I’ve been hearing movement, but it’s been keeping its distance,” Nila picked up the toddler.
“No! Cold!” he tried to squirm out of her arms.
“Sorry, little guy, but it might be dangerous,” she replied.
“Mountain lion, normal, not mutated. It’s curious. Not in hunting mode.”
“I go ground!” the toddler continued to struggle while pointing down and looking at Cal with a furrowed brow.
“Let’s go to the RV. I’ve got everything I’d want out of this place.”
“So? What’d you find?” Nila finally gave the little guy what he wanted.
Cal watched him walk on unsteady legs toward the small couch and climb up to press his chubby face up against the window searching for the kitty hiding in the tall stalks.
“The Dread Paladin was born in this place. Another sin to lay on the heads of the Vitiator and his cabal.” He explained what he had experienced leaving out the specifics.
“Do you have their trail?”
“I couldn’t get any psychic memories from the Vitiator’s perspective. As for the cultists, there are more than there were before. Most of them are new. I only recognized a few. They spread out from this place. In all directions.”
“That’s a problem.”
“Yeah, but I did pick up a bit that showed the Vitiator headed north.”
Nila embraced him.
“The armor is cold,” he teased.
“Whatever, it’s in the 50’s outside and you’re wearing a t-shirt.” She squeezed him tighter.
“I’m fine. The memories were ugly, but necessary. It’ll be worth it once we find the cabal.”
The farmhouse had been the site of terrible acts. Just like the other farmhouses in the area.
The people had put up a fight, but the Vitiator and the magic he had taught his cabal had overwhelmed them.
“The cabal took a few people away. It’s probably too late for them,” he sighed.
“You’re not responsible for their evil.”
“I shouldn’t have let him get away. Everything he does, every life he takes, every life he ruins… I could’ve stopped it all. Cooper doesn’t become the Dread Paladin. He doesn’t kill Hayden’s friends. How many other stories like that are out there? How many have already happened? How many will happen? A chain of suffering built link by link and it can all be traced back to my failure.”
“You can’t blame yourself. You don’t know the full story. I imagine that the Vitiator was doing the same on his world. By your logic the blame should fall on someone there that had failed to stop him. After all, if a good elf killed him then he wouldn’t have come to our world in the first place.”
“I can only control what I do.”
“Exactly.”
“I accept that intellectually, but I struggle to do the same emotionally,” he shrugged.
“Which is fine… as long as you don’t let it turn into guilt that eats away at you. The most important thing to remember is that you tried your best. If you fail, then do better the next time.”
“Yeah…”
Nila squeezed him even tighter.
“You know that the armor isn’t exactly comfortable…”
“It is for me,” she replied.
“There! Teddy!”
The little guy’s excited squeal broke the moment.
“Teddy?” Nila eyed him.
“Mutant bear coming out of the tree line. I sensed it coming a mile away. Nothing to worry about.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“There was time,” he shrugged as he went one of the overhead compartments to pull out his handcannon.
“No, no. Give me that. I’ll take care of it,” Nila’s tone brooked no dissent.
“Why? You have your own machine gun.”
“I have to conserve ammunition,” she shrugged.
“Then just hit it with your club.”
“I’m not going to dirty up my armor on the first day of our trip.”
“Fine. Then I’ll go take care of it.”
“No. You just had an emotional moment. You need to not do any violence for a bit when you don’t have to. It’s just a mutant bear, so I can take care of it.”
“One shot,” he warned. “You used up all the ammo back in Kansas and the replacements are expensive.”
“That’s cause you offered to pay,” she snorted.
“It’s a lot of work for Mr. Del Campo. Only he can make them and it takes a lot of time and effort on his part. Each round he makes for me is, like, 5-10 of a normal rifle round.”
“Relax.”
Nila took the handcannon and exited the RV.
“Teddy!”
“Oh no. You’re not going to watch this.”
Cal grabbed the toddler and took him away from the window despite the squirming protests.
“No! Want watch teddy!”
“Cover your ears.”
The little guy pressed his palms to his ears.
A loud bang rattled the windows.
A second shot rang out a moment later.
“Damn it… that’s two. Can you believe that?”
“Damn!” the toddler said.
“You’re teaching him bad words again,” Nila said as she climbed back into the RV.
Cal decided not to mention the two shots. “Hey look at you! No blood and brains on your armor! Awesome!”
“Please don’t curse around him. The Furies and the rangers are bad enough,” Nila stowed the handcannon and stepped out of her armor before strapping it against the wall.
Cal moved to the driver’s seat to get out of the way.
“Vroom!” the toddler immediately grabbed the wheel and made car noises.
“Ready to go?”
Nila plopped down next to him.
“Yeah. Listen, no more bad words.”
“What? I didn’t— ‘damn’ isn’t a bad word.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it isn’t.”
They continued to bicker over what constituted a bad word as he lifted the RV off the ground and headed north.
----------------------------------------
Now, Michigan
“Look, all I’m saying is that a word is only bad if enough people decide collectively that it’s bad. I can point out dozens and dozens of historical examples of words that were considered curse words at one point or another, but aren’t necessarily seen as such today and vice versa.”
“Are you still on this?” Nila snorted.
“No…”
They had flown in a generally northeasterly direction. Passing through Illinois, Indiana and into Michigan.
Cal kept their presence hidden from the dozens of small communities they investigated for the presence of the cabal. He had found signs, but old ones.
The memories were similar.
Random people disappeared over a few weeks.
Fear gripped the communities, but when it had seemed to reach a boiling point the disappearances had stopped as suddenly as they had started.
Cal discovered much more.
He had experienced what the cabal had done to those unfortunate few.
Perhaps, more troublesome was the fact that not all those that vanished suffered terrible fates.
Some had been recruited.
The cabal grew.
“We’re almost there.”
“Where exactly?” Nila leaned over him to gaze out of the driver’s side window.
“Hey! I can’t see!”
“Like you need your eyes to know where we’re going,” she snorted. “That’s one of the great lakes, isn’t it?” she disappeared into the back of the RV and came back with the toddler. The two of them piled on top of Cal’s lap.
“Seriously?” he sighed.
“See that?” she ignored him. “What is it?”
“Water!” the little guy pointed.
“It’s a lake, can you say ‘lake’?” she sounded out the word.
The little guy copied her perfectly after a few tries.
“Can you say ‘great lake’?” She turned to Cal. “Which one is it?”
“Lake Michigan.”
“Can you say ‘Lake Michigan’?”
The little guy struggled with that one.
“There’s a small city on the eastern bank of the lake. Built around the mouth of a river. The people live in the northeast corner and expanded out. The expansion started out as a tent city but over the years has been upgraded into permanent construction.”
“Tents would suck with the winters.”
“They’ve been cannibalizing the buildings close to the lake.”
Nila’s face twisted.
“What? Too soon?”
She rolled her eyes.
“The lake monsters and mutants are too dangerous for them to live close,” he continued. “Anyways, there are a little under four thousand people. There isn’t much interaction with the other settlements and cities in the state. The in-between lands are dangerous as always, especially in the winter.”
“All that from a quick scan.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“I think I’m getting better at balancing my reluctance with the need. The Vitiator and the cabal need to be stopped as soon as possible.”
“Same procedure?”
“Yup.”
Nila sighed.
“What?”
“I get the need for secrecy… but it’d be nice to explore the town. Eat and drink at a local cafe. That sort of thing.”
“It won’t be anything like it was before the spires.”
“It might be. Some places have been pretty close. You could almost imagine it was how it once was.”
“I know, but this place won’t be one of them. Main street and all the good places are close to lake. They’re completely abandoned and have been mostly taken apart.”
“Then they probably rebuilt them in the safer area, right?” Nila smiled.
“You can do all that but then I’d have to erase people’s memories of us. That doesn’t seem right, just so you can enjoy tea and cake.”
“Then don’t. We’ll do what we did in Vegas. You just do a slight Jedi mindtrick. No need to go all out Professor X.”
He eyed her.
“We looked through your old comic books that weekend we stayed at your parents,” she explained.
“We?”
“Me and the little guy. He was interested.”
“You let him read my comics?”
“Some pages may have been crumpled.”
Cal groaned.
“What? It’s not like they’re worth anything. The pages were already yellowing. I didn’t know they used newspaper-style paper.”
“That’s cause those were really old. Like almost 40 years old now— Jesus! I’m old.”
“At least you don’t look it. Anyways what’s the big deal?”
“History. Those comics might be the last comics ever created.”
“Then maybe you need to take care of them better. Cardboard boxes don’t cut it if you really want to conserve them.”
“Some of them are in mylar bags.”
“I know and those are barely better since they aren’t airtight.”
“Damn it—”
“Language!”
“Fine, sorry. I guess I’ll need to add that to the list. Unless…”
“What?”
“Comic book stores… I need to claim them.”
“I question your priorities.”
“Why? They’re basically libraries. And claimed stores seem to exist in a sort of stasis. I need to send Rayna a message.”
“She definitely has more important things to deal with.”
“Claiming small stores are perfect for noobs.”
“I can’t argue with that. So… about our exploration…”
“Okay.”
“What? Really?” Nila blinked. “Why?” she narrowed her eyes.
“I’m not opposed to treating parts of this trip like a semi-vacation. We can’t be in fight mode all the time. It’s bad for the psyche.”
“Then why did we just hover over all those other settlements?”
“The people in those wouldn’t have been friendly to the sight of us for a variety of reasons and I didn’t want to touch their minds enough to deal with that.”
“And this place will be different?”
“Yeah.”
She raised a brow. “That’s good?”
“Some good, some bad, some—”
“What is it?” she eyed him with concern.
“Mysterious disappearances… except I can’t tell how for some of them.”
He deepened the psychic scan of the city thousands of feet below the flying RV.
“Not all were disappearances. They’ve found bodies and they have no idea who or what has been killing their people.”
“The cabal haven’t been leaving bodies.”
“That’s right.”
“Then this is something else.”
“Except I can see memories of the cabal.”
“What else do you see?”
“That’s just it. I can’t see anything. There’s like a blank space around the dead bodies.”
“We need to start with the bodies.”
“They’ll be naturally suspicious of us. More so if we simply arrive and say ‘hey, I know you’ve got some unsolved murders. I can’t tell you how I know, but I’d like to help.’ I doubt that would get us far.”
“Then do a mindtrick. Convince them we’re a trusted pair of wandering crime-solvers… with a toddler.”
“What that?” the little guy pointed out the window.
“Giant eagle.” He convinced the huge, mutated animal to go elsewhere.
“Bye bye bird!” the little guy waved.
“Yes! It’s a bird!” Nila squeezed the little guy’s cheeks despite his efforts to wiggle away.
“Okay. We’ll go with your plan. Except minus the mindtrick. These people are decent enough that I don’t want to lead with that. We’ll land right outside the community leader’s office and make your pitch.”
----------------------------------------
A murderer stalked the streets.
They constantly kept an eye on potential victims. The stronger the target the more they leveled.
One such target was dancing in the lonely dance studio across the street.
Interior lights shined out like a lighthouse amid the rest of the dark buildings on the street.
They knew the target.
They had spoken on several occasions.
The Mage, Kimberley, was one of the more powerful ones in the city. Though the woman had another class. The one she truly cared about. She had been a dancer before the spires. Now she was also a Dancer.
The murderer’s class provided Skills and abilities that allowed them to discover vital information about their potential targets.
Profile Prey.
With enough time and observation, they could discover strengths and weaknesses. They learned habits and tendencies. Everything they needed to secure the kill.
Kimberley never failed to spend one night a week in the dance studio. The woman had powerful magic, which meant that she didn’t fear the larger gremlins that sometimes roamed this part of the city. Other people didn’t risk the same.
They were alone in this part of the city for many blocks in all directions.
The preparation for the fall harvest festival was another advantage for them.
Most everyone’s attention was currently devoted to setting up the fairgrounds and carnival.
The noise and the bustle would cloak their activities on this night.
The murderer watched Kimberley dance from the shadows of a broken store on the other side of the street. Their Skills told them that there were no gremlins or any other monsters on this night. She waited like a mountain lion in the brush.
Kimberley finished and stood in the middle of the well-lit studio sweaty but happy and mentally refreshed if physically fatigued.
The murderer knew that the studio had a small shower in the back so they made their move. Their dark cloak rustled like a whisper in the wind as they dashed across the dark street and climbed up the side of the building to disappear over the roof.
Kimberley hit the showers.
Hot water washed over her body.
Age had added wrinkles but an active lifestyle post-spires meant that she was in the best shape of her life. Being a Dancer helped greatly with that. Her body was as strong and supple as it had been when she was in her twenties. If only there was a Skill or spell that could’ve done something about her gray hair.
The shower stall steamed up quickly.
She would’ve enjoyed staying longer but she had her duties. The graveyard shift guarding the festival grounds wasn’t fun. At least it wasn’t boring with the increased monster activity during those hours.
She turned the water off with a sigh and stepped out reaching for a towel.
A sudden rush of movement accompanied a stinging pain in her hand.
She stared in shock at the blood-squirting stumps at the tips of her four fingers.
A dark cloaked figure partially-obscured by the steam held a bloody knife over their head and stabbed down.
“Mage Shield!” Kimberley screamed.
A rose-colored magic shield sprang to life around her.
The knife struck, but didn’t bounce off like she expected.
The tip dug into the shield and slowly began to pierce it.
She thought quickly.
The first thing she did was wrap her spurting fingers in the towel. Then she stepped back into the stall and prepared herself.
She dropped the shield and thrust her uninjured hand at the cloaked figure. “Force Shove!”
The cloaked figure flew back crashing into the wall with a loud thud.
Before Kimberley could attack again the figure disappeared to the left in a swirl of cloak and steam.
She cast her shield again before cautiously stepping out of the shower stall.
The thick steam obscured her vision.
She heard the water pouring down in the other stalls.
How had she not noticed that earlier?
A quick glance behind her revealed the tiled wall. She always used the last stall in the row so she only had to worry about threats from one side. Paranoia had kept her alive for the last twelve years.
She tightened the towel around her maimed fingers before creeping forward.
Rose-tinted steam parted as she cleared each shower stall on her way to the door.
It was ajar and creaked audibly as the escaping steam pushed it back and forth.
The door had always been in need of a proper oiling. She had purposefully left it alone as an alarm.
Why hadn’t she heard it open earlier?
She continued forward letting her magic shield push the door open.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose
She spun and thrust her uninjured hand out.
Nothing.
But she trusted her instincts, so she backed out into the narrow hallway.
The rustle of cloth reached her ears. So faint that she almost dismissed it as imagined.
After all, she had cleared the shower stalls and couldn’t see anything in the steam.
She almost made a mistake.
Instead, she looked up.
A dark shape fell on her. Like one of those mutated ravens.
The knife blade glinted in the hallway lights as it struck into her shield once again.
She got a better look at the cloaked figure out of the steam.
A dark hood covered their head and where the face should’ve been was a black void that seemed to suck in the light. There was no hint of features.
She would’ve questioned the humanity of the cloaked figure had they not carried an unmistakably human form.
The knife was definitely wielded in a black-gloved hand.
Her shield shattered to her shock.
She raised her right arm and took the stab while thrusting her left hand to the cloaked figure’s stomach to cast another forceful shove.
The knife had pierced down to the bone but the pain was a distant thing as her adrenaline flowed.
She ran naked and wet.
She left her clothes and gear on the bench.
Her instincts told her that she wasn’t going to have time to get dressed.
As for her weapons?
They were inferior to her magic.
The back of her neck prickled.
She spun.
Nothing.
The rustle of cloth tickled her ears.
This time she was too slow.
Stinging heat pierced her lower back.
“Mage Shield!” she screamed.
Rose-colored light flared as she spun again.
Nothing.
Not even the hint of the dark cloak.
She pressed her injured hand to the wound in her back hoping that the towel would help staunch the warm blood already running down the back of her leg.
She staggered into the dance room.
Her breaths came in ragged gasps despite her efforts to control it.
Panic lost fights.
Lost fights meant lost lives.
She had seen it happen to many others over the years while she remained in no small part to her ability to stay calm, act and react in a fight.
The bright lights gave her comfort as she moved into the center of the large space.
The mirrors on the walls would let her see her assailant coming.
She waited inside her shield ready to fire a spell.
Nothing.
Seconds turned into minutes.
The wound in her back began to hurt as the adrenaline drained.
Her eyelids grew heavy and her vision dimmed.
She couldn’t wait any longer.
Perhaps her assailant had been injured.
She had hit them twice with powerful force.
Naked, wet and bleeding wasn’t how she wanted to walk out of the dance studio and into the dark city streets.
She was sure to attract monsters and mutant animals.
If the assailant had fled then she could take a moment to get dressed and use the first aid kit to treat her stab wounds. It’d be enough to get her to someone that could heal. It had to be.
She inched back toward the hallway leading to the showers. Dropping her shield, she snatched her bag off the bench then recast her shield. She retreated back into the well-lit space and frantically dug through her things for the first aid kit.
She rushed through the process fighting unconsciousness the entire way.
Bandages.
Clothes.
She looked around for her chainshirt and helmet cursing when she saw them back on the bench.
There was no time.
She staggered out into the dark street running toward safety.
Several blocks.
She made it several blocks when her instincts screamed out.
She spun around.
The cloaked assailant was peeking out of an alley half a block behind her.
She thrust her hand out. “Force Bolt!”
The invisible projectile punched a fist-sized hole in the brick.
The cloaked figure was gone. As if they had never been there.
Kimberley cast her shield again. Rose-colored light flickered for a moment then died.
“No!” she wailed. “Why? I should still have eno—”
Footsteps echoed from behind her.
She turned.
The cloaked assailant approached.
“How?” she whispered.
They had just been behind her. Now they were in front of her.
“Two of you?” she glanced back quickly but found nothing.
She turned back toward the cloaked assailant.
Her eyes widened.
The cloaked assailant was close enough to touch.
Kimberley thrust her hand out desperately.
The knife slashed out.
Stinging pain carved its way up her arm.
Something hot plunged into her stomach.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Blood bubbled out of her mouth.
The magic on her lips died.
Kimberley’s last sight was of the rapidly growing sidewalk.
----------------------------------------
“Mr. Gaarane…”
A head poked through his bedroom door.
“Bailey, you’ve been my assistant for months and everyday I have to tell you none of the mister crap. It’s Sadiiq.”
“No can do, sir. Not while I’m on the job. It’s either that, sir or mayor,” Bailey said.
“I’m not the mayor and ‘sir’ isn’t much better,” he sighed as he slowly sat up.
The young man’s bright smile was undiminished. “Uh… but you won the election for mayor?”
“I don’t even remember running. Apparently, I’m a Community Leader, so I can’t deny that.”
“But that’s two words. Why use two when I can use one? You always tell me to be economical with my reports.”
“Voted in against my will,” he shook his head. “How many more years do I have left?”
“It’s a ten year term,” Bailey said.
“Huh? So that’s…” he counted on his fingers. “Nine and some change left— wait? Since when was mayor a ten-year term?”
“Since now, I guess,” Bailey shrugged.
He glared at the young man but without true ire.
Bailey was a good kid. Hard working. Took a lot of the slack. Probably would make a better not-mayor from an organizational and management standpoint.
“Say… I think we need a vice mayor,” he ventured.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not in the rules.”
“Then we change them.”
“I think something that big would need an election. Or maybe the city council could vote on it.”
“Great! Let’s get that going right away.” He could resign once there was a vice mayor to take his place.
“Nope,” Bailey shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Next election isn’t for nine and some change years.”
He stifled a curse. Couldn’t be a bad example for the impressionable youth. “Then we can have the city council—”
“Sorry, sir,” Bailey smiled.
Punk wasn’t even hiding it anymore.
“Well, why not?”
“There is no city council. No one wanted to run.”
“Why don’t I know this?”
“I couldn’t speak as to your mindset at the time of the election.”
“I didn’t even know there was an election.” This was a small lie. He knew there was one, but he had been too busy keeping the community organized on a day to day business to pay attention to it. Everyone else had just decided that he was the only candidate.
He dropped his head back into his pillow.
“Anyways… today’s business,” Bailey continued.
He waved the young man on.
“There’s a guy wanting to meet with you. He’s waiting at your office.”
“Always with the meetings. I can’t get anything worthwhile done,” he muttered. “Okay, let me shower first, I guess.”
“Er…” Bailey hesitated.
“What’s the issue?”
“He… uh… came in a flying RV… landed it in the parking lot.”
Sadiiq blinked for several seconds. “You should’ve led with that,” he said. “The guards?”
Bailey hesitated and cleared his throat. “They may have taken a few shots.”
“You should’ve led with that! Is anyone hurt?” he jumped out of bed. “Shit! No time to shower! A flying RV sounds legit. Did we just start a war? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
“Er… there wasn’t any damage and the guy was pretty understanding. No one got hurt. He just wants to talk to you.”
“Damn it! That might be even worse! Now we owe him for attacking!” he pulled his hair.
“Well, to be fair, sir, he didn’t announce his presence or anything. You could use that as a counter in case he tries to blame us.”
“Good idea, Bailey.” He took a deep breath. “It is an unannounced visit. I shouldn’t rush it.”
“Right you are, sir. He’s on your schedule.”
“Great. I’ll shower and have breakfast first then.”
“What would you like?”
“Damn it, Bailey. I told you that you’re not a servant.”
“Um… but I’m your assistant.”
“Yeah, for business work stuff. Cooking definitely isn’t part of the deal.”
“What’ll you have me do then?”
“Let the guy know that I’m on my way, but since he came in unannounced the wait is regrettably unavoidable.”
“Got it. I’ll see if I can get anything out of him while you get ready.”
“Just be careful. Don’t reveal anything about us. He might be an enemy scout.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Flying-fucking-RV, huh? That one wasn’t on my list.”
Bailey rushed out while not-Mayor Sadiiq hit the shower.