The Crow (Part 8)

Chapter 8

i

Though I did not have any plans to escape (it was practically unescapable), I did have time to learn a lot from this KhanaiKlan.

The KhanaiKlan decided that we move in, and how they persuaded us . . . well, who could say no to four spears pointed at your throat? Best to be polite right? Interesting situations seem to happen around me. I’m trying to get used to the idea.

They didn’t keep us imprisoned (though a debate was held for that, I’m sure), and when they had their meals, they didn’t make—or order—us eat what they were eating. Surprisingly, they didn’t eat a lot of humans (I feel like this is the wrongest thing to say, but how else am I supposed to say this?), and when they did, the Kamander offered other things, like, not humans. Watching them devour the flesh on human bones . . . food wasn’t very appetizing those days.

But I did get to understand them a lot more. The religion they followed is one that I have never heard of, but for some reason, it made sense; as fucked up as it was, it made sense.

Tukai was the only female in the whole group. She’s the one that procreates, and, well . . . I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.

It was nasty.

It was Fucked Up & Beyond.

ii

By the time we got to talking about the plague doctor, Kelly, Sean and I had been here for weeks.

We were sitting in Tukai La’s throne room, a dim light shining above us. At the time, I didn’t know why we were there. I kinda figured they’d let us go.

Or eat us. Cooler heads must prevail.

“The plague doctor,” Tukai said randomly in a casual tone. I did not see anything casual about it. Well, I guess it could be casual for her, but for me, my heart jumped up and tried to choke me. My chest felt like someone was trying to take an eight-pound hammer to it.

“Yes,” I ventured cautiously. “What about him?”

“He’s not a him, but an it.”

“. . . ?”

“It did not originate from this planet. In fact, it simply does not exist.” She looked thoughtful. “Well, it shouldn’t exist.”

“Like an alien?”

“Yes.”

I rubbed my temples with my hands. “This is crazy. Un poco loco.”

Tukai looked up. “What was thaht? Thaht is not in your English language.”

“‘A bit crazy,’” Kelly translated. “It’s Spanish.”

“Indeed it is crazy,” Dustin remarked. “But true, nonetheless.”

I turned to Tukai La. “How long has he—it—been here?”

The twelve-year-old shrugged her dark shoulders. “Who knows? All I know is thaht my ancestors thought it was a god.” She tipped her head to the left. “That was thousands of years ago.”

“A god,” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“Jesus-Krispies.”

Sean, who I now believed was a practicing Christian, looked at me and said: “Jesus didn’t die in a cereal bowl, Ryan.”

“Jesus?” Tukai asked, mistified.

“Forget it. So, why has this plague doctor fuck come to Earth?” Ever since I’ve been getting those dreams, I’ve been disoriented with questions pounding on the bars inside my skull, screaming police brutality. Now it seemed that I might finally get some answers.

“Why would any alien want to come to Earth?”

She got you there, I thought.

“Okay, well, if it wanted to find a new place to live, why kill off so many people?”

Tukai gave me a long look, like I was stupid or something. Maybe I was.

“Do you have to ask that question? Do you think it would live among us in peace? Don’t you think there’s more where it came from?”

I shrugged. To be honest, I was pretty tired. “I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t want to know.”

iii

“At least they gave us separate rooms,” Kelly said from where she was lying on the bed.

I was at the foot of the mattress, getting my clothes off. It was true. Tukai had been nice enough to give us our own rooms, and Sean had actually winked at me.

“Best to stay out of the splash zone,” he had said. “I prefer to stay dry.”

Kelly had to hold a hand to her mouth to keep the giggles from bubbling out. As it was, they managed to escape from entrapment.

I had stared at him in awe as he strolled by with a smirk on his face. I had never heard him make one joke. Much less a dirty one.

“So,” Kelly said, and the way she looked in tight hug-me panties and a bra that was so small it barely covered her tits, made me feel warm down yonder.

I learned from the day we . . . you know, the first time, that she liked to do something different a lot.

I learned from the day we made love in her room on the day Rachel was reported missing (don’t think about that) that she loved trying different things. I don’t think we ever did the same thing twice. She also liked to experiment.

One night, after we were finished, I would still be ready, and she would start yet again, doing a new move (should I call it that?).

“Jesus,” I had gasped when I came. Kelly had came three times. I had heard and felt it. The proof was on the white and red cross-hatched sheets.

Then she would start stroking me again, but I would be all tapped out.

“Hey.”

Kelly snapped me out of my daze, and I was afraid to look down. I already felt like I’d burst from my torn blue jeans.

She was reaching behind her, unsnapping her bra.

I noticed the color was blue.

It was thrown on the floor, her breasts making a 3D movie.

She thrust her hips up from her position, putting two fingers from each hand under the elastic of her panties, pushing them down.

“You look uncomfortable in those pants,” she said. “Why don’t you take them off? I could help.” She smiled.

So that’s what we did. When I was fully unclothed along with her, I layed on my back on the bed, Lil’ Ironman singing the Star Spangled Banner while doing the tango.

Kelly worked her way up to me, kissing my chest as she went. My flesh jumped every time her lips made contact.

By the time her face was just inches from my own (I wasn’t inside her yet), I molded my lips to her left breast. The nipple tasted salty, and was as hard as a bullet. I went to work on her right breast, then kissed her throat. I got a moan from her.

She shivered, then grabbed my hand and put it between her thighs.

She was wet thoroughly.

“You ready?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Kelly guided me to her opening, and we met. The next thirty minutes was a slow and deliberate process, and she was like a piston going up and down, up and down, flexing and unflexing her knees. A film of sweat sheened on the hollow of her throat.

She came, crying out loud on her first orgasm. The second came after that, maybe seconds later.

It’s her third orgasm that always gets me. She has this thing she does on her last climax where her eyes dilate, and she laughs lustfully, swinging her hips from side to side.

I spent myself inside of her (her thighs were wet and very warm, like a coffee mug), and soon, we lay on our backs, catching our breath,

(damn, you’re good at this)

Panting. She turned to me.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I put my arm around her, and she rested her head on the hollow of my shoulder. She shifted her hips, and the friction made me stir down there a little. She started to shake, and I thought she was laughing, but then I heard a choking sob.

I turned on my side. “What’s wrong?” I looked at her, and I saw her eyes were puffy and red, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Everything!” she cried. “That’s what’s wrong! This fucking situation!”

I took her into my arms, and she snuggled deeper. I held her, ignoring Lil’ Ironman saluting to the cavalry when her hips shifted next to my—as you would say—missile. I cradled her head as she cried. I didn’t have anything to say.

We fell asleep that way.

iv

“You know,” my mother said. “You can’t save everyone.”

“Who?”

“You know. You won’t win. Not against him.”

“Against who?”

She grinned, and it was horrible. “You know who.”

I didn’t know. I did know. I knew I was dreaming, and I knew exactly what she was talking about, but in a way that was like déjà vu. I knew I was asleep beside Kelly, who had been crying for all that was lost. Subconsciously, I felt her tears dry on my shoulder.

What I didn’t know was why this conversation felt so real.

And why it felt fake.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“Don’t you know?”

“I feel like you’re here, but you’re not.” I looked away.

Silence.

I was starting to get scared. “Mom?”

“Your mom is dead, like the rest of them,” she said.

“Wh-wh-what?” I stammered. I turned back to her. She

(is dead)

was smiling at me in a cruel grin.

“She’s dead, and so are you.” She tipped me a wink, such a grotesque wink. “All of you.”

She—or whoever it was—started to laugh, and to my horror, her skin started to peel off of her, flesh from her cheek bones falling off in stringy goop, her skull disgustingly beginning to become visible among the stripped flesh.

I cried out when her hand grabbed my wrist with shocking, painful strength. I looked down at where she grabbed me, and only saw bone.

The scenery changed. We were standing on piles of skeletons, blood flowing from under them. Some splashed on me.

“You’re dead, I’m dead. I’m dead, you’re dead—”

v

—you’re dead, I’m dead. I’m dead, you’re—”

I woke up at the sound of my own voice, screaming. I jumped out of bed, clawing at myself, scrubbing vigorously at blood that wasn’t there.

Kelly jolted awake, sitting up fast. “Ryan, what’s wrong?”

I stopped what I was doing, and knelt beside the bed, sobbing.

“It felt so real. So fuckING real! So much blood, so much—” I told her about the dream, how my mother was conversing with me, how . . . I shivered at the end of the story.

“She kept saying, ‘I’m dead, you’re dead. You’re dead, I’m dead.’” I wiped the tears from my eyes. “The hell of it? It felt so real. I can’t get that out of my head.” I shook my head and let out a miserable laugh. Looking back at it, it’s like I’m looking through a kaleidoscope. Shattered all the way around.

I paused. “But that wasn’t my real mother I saw.”

(are you sure?)

“I’m sure of it,” I said more firmly.

“Are you okay?” Concern flashed in Kelly’s blue eyes, and, instead of me giving comfort to her, now it was the reverse.

“I don’t know.” Oh, how those words sounded true.

And so fake.

“Go back to sleep,” Kelly prompted gently. “Things’ll look better in the morning. They always do.”

“I hope so.” But I didn’t fall asleep for a very long time.

vi

“Interesting,” Tukai said thoughtfully.

We waited. Even though she was fourteen-years-old (yes, people, I asked), she was a wise motherfucker. It was kinda scary.

“Are you sure it was a dream?” she asked.

“Ye—” I paused, thinking. Suddenly, I wished I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t like where this was going. “What else could it have been?”

Tukai La put her hands together with a little clap! and replied, “Perhaps a veesion?”

“A vision?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus, I don’t know . . .” I put my hand to my head and rubbed my forehead. “All I know is that I’m scared. In fact, the dream—’cause that’s all it is, a dream!—scared the absolute shit out of me. I’ve never had one so vivid like that.”

“You said it felt real?”

“Yes.”

“Have all of your dreams felt real?”

I thought about that. “Yeah, I guess they did.”

“Then they must be veesions.”

This was beginning to sound fucking absurd. “So we’re talking supernatural? Shit that shouldn’t exist?” This was getting out of hand. “‘Cause I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Don’t you believe in the plague doctor? Hm?”

I had no answer. I kept silent, and I could see her face was working impatiently.

“You have a gift—”

I interrupted. “I’m sorry, what? A gift? Is this what I have, a fucking gift? Well, whoever gave it to me can fucking take it back!” I was close to hysterics at this point. “As a matter of fact, if you ain’t gonna kill us, then let us go. I ain’t dealin’ with this shit. I’ve had it!”

“Ryan—” Kelly tried to put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off angrily.

“I’ve had it. I’m done. Fuck what you think I have. Just kill us already!”

Tukai looked at me for the longest of moments, seeming to stare through me. For a hot second, I thought she really would kill us. Or maybe just me. I hope that happened. Kelly didn’t deserve this. I started to panic inside, but then she nodded.

“We have learned much from you, though it ees sad to see you go. But it ees even sadder to see you close to breaking down. You will go with my best regards, and in friendship.”

I noticed involuntarily that she was getting better at her English.

The rest was a daze, like I’ve been clocked upside the head with a cosh full of sand by some invisible force. We were escorted to a cave that they had apparently stowed our car in. Sean was shaking hands with a man, I’d say about six-three, and this was the first time I’d seen him around one of these Klan people.

When we left, I looked through the rear-view mirror, and I swore that Tukai La mouthed Don’t look at the deadlight, but by the time they were a spec among the rocks, I had already forgotten it.

vii

The roar of the deserted road of Spokane, Washington seemed to hit supersonic as the speedometer raised to 93 mph, and that’s as high as it was going to get.

There was not a car in sight, which was a surprise, but I didn’t notice. The road seemed to stretch infinite miles.

Four days of travel can completely exhaust a person, but I had full fledged determination on my side. We were getting to those shelters, tired or not.

“I wonder.” Sean said from the back, “if they’ll have plenty of food for the whole country. It’s bound to be packed.”

“I don’t think so,” Kelly rebuked. “Most of the country probably forgot it existed, and you have to understand; most of the population is dead. For all we know, we could be the first ones to arrive.” She glanced at me. “We don’t even know where it’s at.”

“Well,” I said thoughtfully, because, to be honest, I hadn’t thought about that at all. Not until now. “It’s got to be around a park, like that old unused one in Texas. What was it called? Zilker Park?”

Kelly nodded.

“So it has to be around somewhe—” I stopped.

“Ryan? You okay? What happened?”

What happened is that I noticed a gate out of the corner of my eye. I pressed my right foot on the brake, and I pulled aside on the curb. I looked over my shoulder, and sure enough, I saw a gate, maybe a couple hundred yards from the car, and there were two soldiers standing on each side of the gate. But . . .

“Found it,” I said matter-of-factly.

Kelly asked, “Where?”

I pointed to the gate that my eyes spotted. “Some soldiers, too.”

“But . . . ?”

“But there’s no one else there. Just the soldiers.”

“How did you notice it?”

“There’s a blinklight, one I think—I think—the military uses, and only the blind can’t see it.”

Kelly punched me playfully on the arm. “Are you calling me blind, punk?”

“I would never . . .”

Then, from behind us: “The Army uses them.”

Sean spoke in a weird voice, like the Ford we were driving was haunted with rat ghosts.

“I thought so. I couldn’t remember,” I said.

“I can,” Sean continued. “I can remember it like it was yesterday.” He shivered, though the air conditioner (to my discontent) didn’t work, and it must’ve been like ninety-five degrees in the car. “We killed so many people using those blinklights.

“They attract missiles like moths to a flame. We used to place those B-Lights, which is what we called them then, hidden in enemy outposts. Then—”

He looked out the window.

“—boom. Dead. All dead.”

We were quiet. Tears silently slid down Sean’s face.

“Hey,” Kelly turned to me, derailing my train of thought. “I thought you said there were soldiers there?”

“There are.”

“Where?”

“They’re right—” I stopped abruptly. I blinked. I blinked again. “They were right there. The fuck?”

The windshield glass tinkled, and a hole appeared. I looked back, astonished and confused. Sean had a bullet hole straight through the frontal lobe, blood trickling down the side of his face, down the slope of his nose, and meeting up at the chin, dripping down onto his shirt.

“Out!” I hissed to Kelly. I opened the door and threw myself onto the ground, Kelly following my example as I crawled under the car.

“What? What? What happened? Where’s Sean?”

“He’s dead, Kel.”

“What!?” I had to put my hand to her mouth, because I had a very bad feeling we were being watched.

“Shhh! Do you want us to get caught? We need to go.”

Kelly was crying, but at least she was quiet. “How . . . how—huh . . . how—”

“He was shot. I don’t know who, or what, but if we don’t get out, the same is going to happen for us if we don’t get our asses in gear.” I looked around, and my heart stopped beating.

I saw him.

I saw the plague doctor.

viii

“Search for them!” the plague doctor ordered his men. “They couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air!”

“Sir,” a soldier said. From the EGA pinned on his collar, anyone would know he used to be in the Marine Corps, and from the three stripes up and crossed rifles in the center on his shoulder sleeve, you could tell he was a Sergeant. “I think we’ve found them.”

“Where?”

“Under the car they came in with.”

The plague doctor cackled in delight. “Yes. Thank you.”

He—it—walked towards the car, and spotted movement from a car behind.

They were running away!

“After them!” the plague doctor roared in anger.

It seemed to it that the young man was

ix

pulling out my pistol.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Kelly asked. Her face looked like the song from Tears for Fears.

“Yes. Do you have your gun?”

She did. She had her holster wrapped around her hips. She drew her .22 and stared at our foes in defiance.

I had brought the .30—.30 Winchester, which I had almost forgotten in the Ford. I held two boxes of bullets in one hand.

“Run, I said. I followed, the rifle slung around my arm, unboxing and stuffing bullets into the pockets of my jeans. A few fell out and spilled onto the hot pavement of the road, but I couldn’t stop to pick them up, or I would catch a deadly disease called death.

A bullet whizzed past my head. My lungs felt like they were breathing in fiberglass dust, but I kept on, anyway.

What happened to the shelters?

I had no fucking clue. God is my witness when I say that apparently that shit was a lie.

Kelly was slowing down.

“Keep going. I’m right behind you.” Then a shot rang out, and suddenly I was on the ground, and my leg felt like it was on fire.

I didn’t cry out, though it hurt like a BITCH! I didn’t want Kelly to turn back and try to save me. If one of us were to go, it had to be me. It took a lot out of me not to yell in pain, and the effort made my head swim. I heard footsteps approaching, and I got my rifle ready. If I was gonna die, I was going out fighting, guns blazing.

One soldier appeared, and I pulled the trigger, dropping him instantly. More kept coming in his place, and I kept firing.

Soon, though, I ran out of ammunition, so I switched to my .380.

And soon that ran out of ammo.

“Shit,” I said. I tried to get up, bracing myself on the side of a car I was using for cover, but my hand slipped, my leg went inferno, and I passed out.

But before I lost all consciousness, I felt myself being lifted, and I heard myself whisper: “Wh—why?” before black washed out the light, and I was gone.