The Crow (Part 7)

Chapter 7

i

Before we even heard of the bunkers the government had created, Kelly, Sean and I were in a Ford Mustang that I had so kindly borrowed (not like I could have brought it back, and even if I did bring it back, who would be there to receive it?) and were joyfully cruising down Little Frog Avenue in Guiser, Louisiana, headed to the Bayous in Plaquemine.

Now, I know it isn’t a good idea to be in swamps (they were creepy to me), with all the leeches, mosquitoes, snakes, gators, etc., but we were heading to somewhere in Louisiana called Javen, and this was the fastest route to it.

We were under a vanilla sky with all our worries behind us (well, you know what I mean), and we were heading somewhere to stop to eat.

That was until the music station we were listening to on the radio changed (the song we were listening to was something called “A Little Less Conversation” by Elvis Presely—not a bad song; a bit suggestive . . .) was interrupted.

“Greetings, citizens of America. This is a recorded message from the United States Embassy with news for you. The government has given access to the people of the United States of America the safety of our various bunkers, originally fallout shelters, and can fit a maximum of five-hundred thousand people per bunker. We are in Spokane Washington. We hope to see you there, and as always, God bless America.”

The channel we were originally listening to came back on, with “Paradise City” by Guns N’ Roses.

“Wait, what?” Kelly looked dumb founded for a moment, then she yelled with a slap to the forehead, “Of course! The fallout shelters! Why didn’t we think of that?”

“So to Washington?” I asked.

She nodded. “Punch it, Chewie.”

ii

We still decided to go to the Bayous, because most of us hadn’t ever been there.

We were driving along Bayou Jacob Road, when—pop!—our tire blew out (yes, people, again), and we swerved.

“Christ, what’s next?” I exclaimed to no one in particular. The car screeched to a stop on the side of the road, put it in park, and I got out. As I started to examine it, I suddenly started to feel weird.

Like someone was watching me.

Then I heard Kelly scream.

iii

When the tire blew out, Kelly was thinking about New City, and what had become of it. When Ryan went out to check on the tire, Kelly was watching him through the windshield.

Where’s the nearest auto-parts store? She thought with wry amusement. We’re in the middle of nowhere!

They had just changed the tire before they had left. Brand-freakin’-new.

She kept on staring out the windshield when she saw her boyfriend stiffen, as if a hound dog caught the scent of some animal.

Kelly was about to get out to see what the problem was when her door opened and rough hands seized her with a knife at her throat. She thrashed and screamed, unable to see because whoever it was put a blind-fold on her.

iv

I snapped out of whatever shock I was in and grabbed for my pistol. I was switching off the safety when I was kicked in the small of my back from behind, sprawling me across the dust of the dirt road.

“What the—!” That was all I could manage because some sort of blunt object hit me in the back of the head.

The last thing I saw was Kelly being picked up by four men in what appeared to be

(dear God)

human skin. Sean was being hauled out of the back of the Ford, a cloth to his face. Then everything went black.

v

When I came to, I was on the ground of what appeared to be a cave. My head hurt like you wouldn’t believe, and when I could begin to think.

“What the hell?” I whispered.

“Ryan?”

I whipped my head around at the sound of Kelly. “Kelly? Kelly! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, but I can’t say the same for Sean.”

She pointed to a shape slumped on the ground; I noticed the red checkered shirt he was wearing.

“Sean?”

Then I saw the blood pooled around his head.

“Oh God,” I gasped. I crawled to the limp form, my hands scraping across the dirt.

“Sean? Sean! Wake up!”

I let a sigh of relief escape from my lips when I heard his groan.

“Ryan . . . ? You okay?” Sean tried to sit up, but he fell down with a hmph! and held his elbow.

“Sean,” I said in a hurry, holding out a hand to stop him. “Don’t get up.”

I looked around to assess the situation. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I looked at Sean more closely. He had a gash on the left temple, and I was surprised he was even conscious. Not only that, he should have had a concussion from how deep his cut was.

“Sean, don’t worry, we’ll get you out.” I swept my eyes across the cave once more, looking for some sort of escape route. There was none.

Then I heard something, just faintly.

It was like a drum that was pounding, and there was singing. Like a sort of native American celebration. My head must have been ringing loud enough for me to miss the sound. I turned a quizzical eye to Kelly.

“Do you hear it, too?” Kelly asked.

I nodded.

“What do you think it—?”

Sean broke in. “Is it just me, or do y’all kind of feel, I don’t know . . . weird?” He looked around, a hand on his wounded head.

As a matter of fact, I did feel weird, as if the air wasn’t just right.

“It’s the Stranger.”

All three of us jumped at the voice, and my hand fell instinctively to my holster where my .380 was. Unfortunately, it was somehow missing.

A man in tattered, ruggy rags covered in dirt and mud stood about a meter away from us. His face was paper white, as if the sun hadn’t caressed his pale skin in eons. Dust coated his cheeks, making him look like he just got out of a chimney.

When the man did not respond, I asked very cautiously: “Who are you?”

The man replied, “Who are you?”

I gestured to Kelly Morgan, who introduced herself, then I pointed to Sean Bently (not the car), who also introduced himself. Then I pointed to myself. “And I’m Ryan Wallace.”

The man looked at us suspiciously, then shrugged. “I’m Dustin.”

I waited. When it was clear that he wasn’t gonna say anything else—like a last name, maybe—I asked him, “What about this ‘Stranger’? Better yet, what the fuck are we doing here?”

The man (Dustin No-Lastname) cocked a dirty eyebrow.

“Fuck?” Dustin asked, puzzled. “I do not know of this . . . this fuck.”

If we were in a different situation, and if Josh and Daniel were with me, I would have cracked up laughing like an asshole. But I didn’t, because this situation was too vital.

“Let’s not worry about that,” I said hastily. “Where are we? Who is this . . . this Stranger?”

“The Stranger isn’t a who, but a what. Here, let me show you.” Dustin crouched down on the dirt and started to draw a figure in it.

My heart stopped beating for a good two seconds, and I stopped breathing. The person,

(it)

or thing, whatever it was, that Dustin was drawing on the floor was a person with a very familiar mask on its face. A crow mask.

Like the plague doctor in my dreams, I thought.

The picture seemed to be screaming at me, and my knees gave out.

vi

The man and Kelly reached out to steady me. They helped me lay down on the ground next to the drawing, and the man stepped back. Kelly still knelt beside me.

“Ryan, what happened?” There was a note in her voice that I didn’t like too much, like those girls out on the streets, desperate for a meal, and willing to do anything for it. I did not like that one bit. This sounded too close to that. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Dustin was studying me thoughtfully.

“I take it you have the dreams, too?” he asked.

I couldn’t say anything. Maybe I was still in shock at what I saw, but . . .

Once I got over the initial shock, and was able to work my jaw in order to talk, I asked with a stoney face, “What dreams?”

Dustin replied: “You can’t fool me.”

“Fool you?” I asked as innocently as possible, looking for something that might distract him from the subject. I was still shocked. “Why would I . . . pff! . . .” The look Dustin gave me made me give up the act. “What about ‘em? Do you know anything?”

Kelly, who was watching the ball bounce back and forth between us like a tennis match, butted in, directed to me, and said, “Wait, Ryan, what’s he talkin’ about? What dreams? How come—?”

Dustin held out his hand to quit her barrage of questions. “All in good time, but first, do you have any idea where you are?”

Kelly and I shook our heads.

“You are in the prison of the KhanaiKlan; a clan that is feared more than the Possi Tribe—”

I interrupted him. Something he said . . . “Tribe?” I inquired.

Dustin nodded. “Yes, and I recently heard about them attacking some sort of group, New Town, or something.”

“New City?”

“Yes, I believe that is the name. Why do you ask?”

Kelly looked at me, and Sean looked like he was going to puke. We all three exchanged looks of fear. “We lived with the New City people. We fought the . . . the Tribe. We—” I shook my head, trying to banish the image of James Stone’s head out of my mind, and when the image was just starting to quiet down, Dustin resurrected it with full power.

“So you know they crucify people.”

“Yes. A . . . a friend of ours, well, we think he was crucified, and the fucking tribe decapitated him and sent the head back.” I paused, then went on. “Kelly and I left, well, most of New City left, and we met Sean—” I pointed to him ”—and stayed at his house for a night. I think,” I stopped, then said, “I think,” and then I stopped again. For the third time, I repeated, “I think the Tribe might have nuked New City.”

Silence met us. The air was so thick with dread, you could probably cut it with a plastic spoon. And to make the feeling less mutual—

“Who is this person you dreamed about?” Kelly prodded gently.

Dustin answered for me. “You know what a plague doctor is, right?”

“You mean those people in those weird masks that had daisies in them? Or were they roses? Those ‘doctors’ of the first Black Death?” Dustin nodded. “Yeah, what about ‘em?”

“Well,” Dustin said, getting warmed up by the look of his eyes. “Ryan and I—it seems like Ryan and I—have been dreaming of this man, but when you look in the eyes of the mask, there’s nothing in its gaze. Nothing . . . human.”

“Nothing at all,” I whispered. “So what is it with this plague doctor? Is he the one who did all this? The Second Black Death? Was this all his

(its)

fault?” I was fired up myself now. “I’ve been knowing about this damned freak ever since—”

I choked off the last of my sentence, grief making me dizzy. Ever since the concert.

“Ever since what?” Dustin asked.

I shook my head, splashing away the tears that were spilling down my cheeks. “I just think . . .” Honestly, I didn’t know what I was thinking. “I don’t know,” I said with a sigh of reignment. I sat down on the ground.

“So what’s this KhanaiKlan?” I asked Dustin.

“You're not going to like the answer.”

“Just tell us.”

“Look at the bones.”

I looked. At first, it didn’t register. Then it did. “Oh, God . . .”

“Yeah,” Dustin agreed.

“You’re joking.”

Dustin tipped his head to the side. “Does it look like I’m joking?”

“Are they really—”

“Yes,” an irritated Dustion said. “They’re really a group of cannibals.”

“What are they gonna do to us?” Kelly asked, frightened. I was frightened, too.

“Eat us, probably.” How pessimistic can Dustin get? “Ceremoniously eat us.”

“Is there a way we can, like, avoid being eaten?” I asked.

“Not that I know of.”

For the first time, Sean broke in: “Do y’all hear that?”

I was about to ask him what, but then I heard it, too.

The music that was playing was getting louder, closer.

“Too late,” Dustin said mournfully.

vii

“We have to do something,” I said, looking around frantically. “There has to be a way outta here.” I noticed a crack on the other side of the cave. “Look, there’s—”

“A crack in the wall,” Dustin said, interrupting the detective in my head. “Just a crack.”

“We’re going to die,” Kelly said.

Then we all stopped to listen.

“What the hell are they saying?” I asked.

“‘Ytu o’chly yi motah, o’eslah de von’la khai lah,’” Dustin translated. ‘Death is the food of the gods, celebrate and feast.’ It’s a chant to honor their gods.”

“Well fuck their gods; how do we escape?”

“We don’t.”

“Then what—”

Dustin cut in. “We have to let them take us.” Kelly groaned. “Maybe we’ll get answers. Maybe we’ll escape.”

He sat down. “For now, we wait.”

I said, “Well, I’m not waiting.”

I started pacing the cave like a coach pacing the sidelines of a football game, looking, searching, trying to find a way to escape.

All I got was the crack. Mysteriously, I could see light through it . . .

“Hey, guys,” I said. Kelly was there in an instant, looking at the crack in the wall. Sean tried to get up, but gravity decided it didn’t want him to get up, and he slammed back down to earth.

“Sean, don’t try to move, okay?” To Kelly, I said, “See? There’s a light.”

“Maybe it’s the angels about to guide us to heaven,” Dustin said sarcastically.

I whipped toward him. He looked away. “Would you shut the fuck up? Just shut your fucking trap,” I seethed.

That was when the crack enlarged like something from a movie, letting light wave into the open cave.

ix

A dozen men wearing shit that looked like leotards came rushing in, grabbing us and dragging us out of the cave. We fought and fought, but it wasn’t enough. One of the men stared at Dustin, and Dustin glared back scorchingly.

“Otek le usah,” the cannibal said.

“Itiu, oso,” Dustin replied.

“What’s happening?” Kelly whispered.

I whispered back, “Beats me.”

The argument between Dustin and his foe continued. “Le say khanai lo e thêi qua to esa mu!” the cannibal exclaimed.

“Khanai te unchaganchi!” answered Dustin in whatever tongue it was they were talking in, which, it seemed, got him slapped.

“Thêi to khanai se tu chotah!”

Dustin shook his head. The cannibal pushed him along.

We caught up to him (Sean was hobbling along), and Kelly asked, “What were y’all saying? Do you know these people?”

Dustin gave her a look that said Well, duh! And answered, “Yeah. I know them. I was once one of them.”

x

“What?” I exclaimed, then looked around me. No one seemed to be paying any of us attention.All Dustin did was nod.

I was about to ask more questions, but whatever thoughts that were flying in my mind playing skeet were shot down by a Beretta 1201FP 12 gauge. Bang! We were taken to a corridor that was open up in a wall to my left. To my right was what looked like an endless hall of gray.

The room inside of the corridor took my breath away.

Kelly gasped. “It’s so . . .” and she couldn’t continue. She didn’t have to. The room spoke for itself. It was one of the most beautiful rooms I had ever seen. To my right, a table made of stone that was covered with markings and symbols holding three ceramic vases. To my left, there was a door made of some type of wood that I have never seen.

In front of me was a massive throne made of platinum and gold. At least it looked like it was (I had no idea how much that thing could have cost—well, maybe I could), and the colors of it were a contrast to the bland gray desert. The chair seemed to shout “Hey! I’m different from everybody else!” but there was also a . . . a kind of wrongness to it. Like it shouldn’t be there. It sort of looked like it got kidnapped.

However that worked.

Sitting on the one-million-dollar estimated throne was a small African American girl, couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen, and probably weighed seventy-five max.

Not in my wildest dreams (and there were a lot) could I have imagined something like this.

“She’s just a kid!” Kelly exclaimed. “What’s she doing up there?”

“Her name is Tukai La. She is the Prime Kamander of the KhanaiKlan.” Dustin looked not in the least shocked. It made me wonder what kind of life he lived.

“Ustay to choi?” the Kamander asked.

“She asked ‘Who are you?’” Dustin translated helpfully. To Tukai, he said: “Komah soi no flabo kahai instotah.”

The girl seemed to consider whatever he said, then reached into the arm of her throne. My heart skipped a beat for a second, because I figured she’d bust out the .9mm and blow our brains out, but she pulled out some sort of metal rectangle, pressed a button on it (at this, I was thinking She’s about to pull a Bin Laden, oh God, oh God!), and put it on her dark throat.

“Is this betta?” Tukai La asked.

“It’s a translator,” Dustin whispered, and looking at him, he looked about ready to piss himself. It was obvious he saw confusion written in squiggles on my face.

“Uh, yeah,” I said to La.

“Good.” The girl paused, staring intently at me. There was something in her eyes that were telling me . . . what? That we were her main course? But somehow, I didn’t believe that.

I shrugged inwardly to myself. Fucked if I know, I thought. The girl's eyes never left me.

“Welcome to thah KhanaiKlan. We have been . . . exp . . . expe . . . expactin you.” The way she spoke those words sounded alien, as if she never spoke English before (later, I found out that she hasn’t).

“What do you want with us?” Kelly asked.

“To lahn from you. That ees all we want.” Again, she turned her eyes to me, leaving me feeling nervous. Tukai was wearing a beautiful red and green dress, like some Christmas holiday special, and had I not thought beautiful, I would have thought fucking terrifying. It just gave off bad vibes; no Holly Jolly Christmas came from that damn dress.

“But you . . . eat . . . people.”

The leader of the clan tipped her head to the left, and I noticed some very distinct ear rings. “That paht of our . . . re . . . rel . . . ree . . .”

“Religion,” offered Dustin.

“Yes. Religion. Why are you here? I thought we kicked you aht of the Klan, Dostiki?” Dostiki? The fuck . . . ? She looked at Dustin intently.

“It wasn’t my fault. I was set up.”

By this time, I was not listening. Really I was practically shitting nickles. I was looking around, and my eyes passed by Kelly. She was so pale, I put my arm around her. She looked gratefully at me. I wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but somehow, I didn’t really believe that myself.

“Kohai!”

This snapped me out of whatever thoughtful daze I was in, and I stared dully as a man stepped in front of the throne. The man waited with an infinite patience that scared me. I don’t know why it did, but right now, Little Bunny Foo Foo could make me jump.

And then, what happened next shocked the hell out of me.

See, I’m not as observant as I’d like to admit, so when this Tukai La pulls out this long ass sword out from behind the throne (now I keep wondering what else was in there—a tank, a whole army, anything), I’m wondering if I was injected with a dose of Sane-B-Gon or something.

Examining the sword, she says: “Kohai, doi to ka handla.”

“Kohai”, or whatever his name was, kneeled.

The twelve-year-old cut his head off.

xi

I would like to say for the record, I was not as surprised as you’d think I was. It was a fucked up situation, and I’m now used to fucked up situations now.

It was bound to happen.

But having a twelve-year-old (or however old she was) do it? That’s past the usual Fucked Up & Beyond scenerio. So would it come as a surprise that I puked my guts out that afternoon? Having to see the head sort of fly up from the neck, leaving a stringy and sinewy mess in its wake? Having to watch the blood splash on the ground, turning the cold, bland gray stone to a red carpet?

If so, you’re nuts.

Kelly screamed, Sean turned ghost pale, and the way his cheeks bulged told me he was gonna follow my example.

Dustin—or Dostiki?—just looked on, like this was an ordinary occurrence. It made me wonder just what childhood this motherfucker lived.

The adolescent executer snapped, “Catch the gahl!” I didn’t know who she was talking about until I turned my head to see Kelly sway on her feet. One of the KhanaiKlan members caught her. “I can see that you all have had enough excitement for today.” She looked at Kelly. “We shall have you in sleeping chambers.”

She spoke some more, but not to us, and not in our language. A couple of Khanai people escorted us out through the hall we came through, and turned left.

A room was at the side of the corridor, and it looked cozy enough. Kelly was still in shock, so I took her in my arms and carried her to the bed. After I put the blankets on her, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door as it closed.

Sean went to the other bed on the farside of the room.

I have never felt more alone.

xii

I crawled under the covers as carefully as I could beside Kelly, trying not to wake her up. Sean was already snoozing away from his side of the room.

Kelly stirred, and I held my breath, but she did not wake.

I lie next to her, my hands behind my head, staring at the carved out scene on the ceiling above. Oddly, the image was comforting. It had what looked like a god next to a sleeping woman, and it looked like he was guarding her.

I stared at that image. Thinking.

Thinking.