Category: Writers Block
Hi everyone. I should have clarified earlier. The first entry I posted was just the prologue. This is chapter 1. I really hope you all enjoy it. If you do, please let me know. If you don't, likewise. What worked, what didn't ... all feedback is welcome.
Just a note for anyone reading this with a screenreader's paragraph reading function. For some reason it's not recognizing my new lines as paragraphs. I'm sorry about that.
PART I:
The day the Wolf Cried Vengeance
Chapter 1:
A Body Enraptured
Nick Parker trudged through Haven’s grimy Undercity streets in an emotional stupor. The pungent aroma of a man who’d forgotten the finer points of daily hygiene hung about him. He was vaguely aware of people edging away as he passed. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
Not long ago, Nick had been another man with another name. Things had been simpler then. He screwed, stole and borrowed his way through life, unmoved by the people he hurt or the lives he ruined. Life was great, not to mention profitable. But a few too many trips to the Peace Enforcement detention center had gone and ruined it all. Two years ago the Department of re-offending citizens had burdened him with morality. Now Nick had a conscience, and he hated it.
A jarring thud sent Nick reeling, jolting him out of his moping reverie. A snappy curse rose to his lips as he looked up. The man he had collided with glared down at him, murder blazing in his green oval eye. Shaggy brown fur bristled over his nearly naked body. His huge biceps flexed. The curse retreated into a tight ball in Nick’s suddenly dry throat. This was a Magnian, and a damn big one.
The Magnian gritted his teeth. “Watch it skinback.”
Nick flinched at the racial slur. “Sorry.” The Magnian was already stomping down the crowded street, his heavily muscled tail whipping hazardously from side to side. Everyone gave him plenty of room.
Nick withdrew back into himself, wondering how things had gone so wrong. He’d been doing so well. After the reconditioning, his life had been back on track. But he’d gone and screwed it up again, and this time he wasn’t the only one in trouble.
Nick’s foot landed on something spongy. He gave a little hop forward, another apology rising to his lips. A fat grizzled human was sprawled in the middle of the sidewalk. His pudgy little mouth was slack and his eyes were closed. He didn’t stir, even when Nick’s foot grazed his splayed hand. He was either sleeping off a hard-day’s drinking, or dead.
He left the old man behind and turned onto Black Iron Street. A row of cold industrial buildings lined one side of the street, while the other belonged entirely to an Aerophant graveyard protected by sparking raiser wire. Scaly sections of stripped hide, skeletal frames and cracked gray crystalline hearts lay in haphazard piles behind the barrier, waiting to be recycled. As he neared the warehouse at the end of the street he slowed. A sign post leaned precariously to one side, looking ready to topple over and crush someone. “Property of Haldren Imports. No trespassing. Unrecognized persons will be effectively sued.”
Nick felt his skin crawl. He swept the street, searching for the suspicious eyes he knew must be on him. A few battered aerophants were tethered to restraining pillars inside the warehouse’s stable. The acrid stench of their waste made his nose twitch. One stirred restlessly in the grip of what might have been a dream. Nick shuddered. Did aerophants dream? Could they dream?
He mentally smacked himself. “Pull it together you idiot. No one’s watching. No one even cares.” He felt better.
Two humans lounged against the wall smoking enormous Magnian cigars and talking shop. Neither man paid Nick any attention as he edged passed.
“Those new guys are trouble.” one man was saying.
“The Therrians? They’re harmless. Pull their weight, too.
“How do you figure?”
“I see them all the time. Sorting merchandise. Lugging crates. For Therrians they sure are strong.”
The first man spat. “If there’s Shiner in those crates I’ll tongue kiss my Aerophant’s poop shoot.
“That’s nasty.”
“I’m serious. Something’s going on we’re not supposed to know. Boss is tighter than the Therrian holy matriarch. And that Magnian! Damn! Got more weapons than a squad of piffs! You tell me why someone like that needs to hang around a Beanshine warehouse!”
“It’s a rough part of town.”
“The Velvet Strip’s a rough part of town. Psycho should go darken one of their doorways.”
Their voices faded as Nick turned down a deserted side street. It was approaching twilight, and the large luminous spheres floating high above gradually darkened in similitude of the setting sun. Most of the buildings here were boarded up and run down. Crude word art decorated their grim facades, proclaiming “I live to smoke on your pleasie pipe,” “all skinbacks need skinning”, “The Guiding Hand only pleasures the high born” and other ‘tasteful’ declarations. Nick figured if the gloom and depravity along this street could be distilled into a perfume, it would smell like the stable he’d passed. He hadn’t been in such a place since his other life. For a moment he almost turned around. But in light of recent events, mere want had swiftly transformed into burning need. And so he went on. Perhaps nothing had really changed.
The alley separating Haldren Imports from another boarded up warehouse was lit only by a small sphere mounted on the stone wall. Nick felt the hair on his neck tingling. He gazed up into the darkness. The tell-tale red eye of a wall-mounted security Watcher gazed back.
He stepped into the gloom, feeling his pulse quicken. “Hello? Shadows does silver moonlight banish?” The code phrase might have made him laugh if he hadn’t been so nervous. Some of the people who lived in the Undercity probably hadn’t seen real moonlight in their lives.
The sound of grating stone made him jump. A small slat on a door he hadn’t noticed before slid open, causing a small bar of light to shine on the opposite wall. One large green eye peered out. The skin around it was Therrian smooth.
“Reference?” Said a clipped male voice.
Nick fished in his jacket, closed his fingers over a small piece of paper, lost it, then pulled it out and looked at it. “U6392 I 419. I called about a –“
“You late, broto.”
Nick stammered an apology, but the Therrian cut him off.
“Show me your crystal.”
Nick stretched a trembling hand towards the slat, palm up.
“Inside, broto” The man commanded.
He complied, hating it. Cold fingers grabbed his wrist; nick held very still, barely breathing. “If you don’t have the cred I’ll break your fingers.” He felt a slight tingle as a hand scanner touched the skin between his middle and index fingers. There was a short delay as the scanner collected the funds in his bank account from the nanocrystal under his skin. When the scanner beeped, the fingers let go. The man placed something small in his hand.
“Heeeey, olo, you’re straight. Enjoy. And tell your friends, hey? Looking for an experience like no other? You come to us.”
Nick quickly removed his hand. The slat ground shut. “Yeah,” Nick said, “Pleasure doing business.”
As he left, Nick looked down at the little pink box in his palm. It was tied with a blue ribbon. He breathed deeply, as if already feeling the effects of the prize inside.
Rapture.
The Red Court Apartments stood in stark contrast amidst neighboring residences which looked like palaces in comparison. Chips and cracks marred the soiled gray brick of its façade. Trash littered the abandoned Aerophant stable, and the gate leading into the small weed-infested courtyard seemed to be held together by a sheer act of will. All in all, The Red-Court looked less fit for the monarch of a small country than the king of rats.
As Nick stepped through the sagging front door into the lobby, several of the aforementioned king’s little courtiers scurried into a small hole under the stairs, squeaking what sounded like “Big feet! Big feet!” as they disappeared.
“Yeah you’d better run,” Nick said, but there was no heart in it. His walk back to the apartment had left him feeling a little better. The Rap burning a hole in his pocket promised a pleasant distraction. But now he was home, and as he climbed the protesting stairs, its presence seemed to add to the indomitable burden weighing him down. Faintly muffled shouts echoed from the floor above. Somewhere a baby was squalling, its needs going unsatisfied.
The lock barring access to his tiny shared apartment was old fashioned and poorly maintained. He fished the old key out of his pocket and slipped it into the lock. It stuck for a moment, and then the lock twisted open with its distinctive loud click. Nick entered and shut the door, leaving the outside world behind. Instantly the crying and screaming dulled to a tolerable white noise.
He kicked his shoes into a corner and looked around, feeling his body grow heavier. The apartment looked the way he felt, messy, disorganized and hopeless. A week’s worth of dirty laundry teetered precariously on the threadbare chair in the corner. The congealing remains of last night’s take-out oozed from an overturned container near his personal Encephalon terminal. A fine layer of virgin dust settled over all but the bare essentials: chair, sofa, desk and terminal.
He sighed, crossed to the fridge and selected something cold and alcoholic from its vacant depths. He would have to clean before Naran got home, and he would … just not right now.
He collapsed onto the lumpy sofa and took a swig from the bottle. The booze was pungent and sweetly acidic – definitely a taste he hadn’t acquired. He set the bottle carefully on the floor, picking up his chatterbox from where it lay.
The palm-sized metal cube beeped when he thumbed the small stud on its edge. A translucent window coalesced over its shiny surface. He barely registered the flashing icon indicating the chatterbox’s power crystal was nearly drained, instead fixating on the words “1 new message”. For a moment it was as if the past weeks had never happened. It was a split second of near weightless relief mingled with frantic hope.
“Play new messages.”
On command, his first and only message streamed from the vast Encephalon. Naran’s classic Therrian features winked into being. His wide smile caused his gray eye to twinkle. A vast sunlit vista stretched behind him.
Nick’s euphoric buoyancy vanished as quickly as it had surfaced.
“Hey Nick,” Naran said breathlessly. “Just thought I’d chat and see how things are going. You’re probably busy playing somewhere in the Encephalon. I’m still in Aluron’s Rising.” He paused to drink a long gulp of water from a canteen. “Sorry about that. The hill to the temple was way steeper than it looked. I still can’t believe I’m actually making my pilgrimage. Me! The reformed and rehabilitated bad apple. Can you believe it? Just take a look at this place!”
The view panned away from Naran to show the front of an enormous building. Its high arched doorway looked big enough to accommodate five people walking abreast. Its ivory façade was made all the brighter by the sunlight. Spires spanned by wooden walkways framed what appeared to be some sort of statue, but Nick was standing too close to get it in view. “Amazing, isn’t it?” The view returned to Naran.
Nick had to admit he’d never seen anything like it.
“I’m hoping to at least catch a glimpse of the Matriarch in the flesh. They tell me she’ll be back from her tour of the northern territories today. I’ll probably be back in the next few days. I hope things are good there. Hopefully those damned rats aren’t at the door begging for food again … You have opened the door in the last week, right? Anyway, I’ll talk to you soon.” Naran vanished.
“Erase message,” Nick said. A few more days. He was glad Naran was enjoying himself. He hesitated. “Play saved messages.”
This time a young Therrian woman filled the window. Long golden hair spilled down her back, framing a face whose beauty reminded Naran of happier days. At this moment her beauty was marred by a range of emotion, but only terror and sadness were visible to Nick’s limited perspective. Tears dribbled down either side of her thin nose, looking like pregnant drops of rain. Her sensuous lower lip trembled as words erupted from her.
“Nick. When you get this, chat me … Damn it! Nick … Nick I’m pregnant. I’m freaking out! What were we thinking? We were so stupid.” The woman took a deep breath, then stared resolutely at him.
A single tear escaped Nick’s clenched eyes. “Seera,” he breathed.
“I shouldn’t have chatted. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but if the Piffs get a hold of me I’ll keep you out of it. You’ve been through enough. Don’t try and contact me. I may need to disappear. I love you. I wish it could have worked. Goodbye, Nick.”
“Pause!” Her face froze before it could disappear. Nick gazed into her eye. Such a thing wasn’t easy to do with two eyes, but he’d always managed before. Now the emotion that eye could convey was all but lost in the still image of the ether’s reconstruction of her features.
Nick met Seera one night six months ago in an Undercity bar – the Gagging Maggot. It was the sort of place people went to put the cares of the world on hold in lew of a night of drinking and dancing. Nick, then unemployed had been working to rebuild his life. Seera, an Upper Haven girl merely wanted freedom from the constraints of hers. Neither had been seeking anything but escape.
They’d danced until closing time. Slow songs, fast songs, no songs … it didn’t matter. Their conversation was loose and natural – the booze probably helped. They hadn’t worried about being seen in such close proximity. In places like the Gagging Maggot nobody really cared who or what you were. The world and the taboos it held were left at the door.
They hadn’t meant to end up in bed. But the third time last call came, Nick had invited her back to his apartment. He hadn’t even thought twice about it. Naran was away, and he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Seera. It surprised him when she eagerly accepted. The two had left the bar laughing hand-in-hand. Nick couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so good – the booze had probably helped with that, too.
Their sex started out fast and frantic, as if by their coupling they were purging one another of their individual stresses. Nick had never been with a Therrian woman, and he was amazed by how naturally their bodies complimented one another. Neither had thought about contraception; it just didn’t seem important. But as the boundaries of night and early morning drew closer together, their pace slowed, softening into revitalizing bliss. They began tenderly experiencing one another as people, allowing their minds and emotions to share in their bodies’ pleasure.
The brightening rays of the Undercity sun spheres should have meant an end to the affair. But it was too late. They’d fallen hard and fallen fast. At some point during the night, their companionable need for escape and their drifting from unbridled passion to soothing intimacy had instilled in them something new. Neither was ready to call it love, but both were unwilling to let it go.
Nick put his head in his hands. It had been the best six months of his life. He’d worried about Naran, but his friend had been happy! He’d even hacked the registry of the hotel where he worked to give the two of them many evenings of privacy. Nick loved him for that. The rooms were far from romantic, but they were enough.
He and Seera spent long, happy nights in those rooms talking of the future. They knew their growing love couldn’t work in Haven. Humans and Cyrom might have been living as friends for the better part of a century, but that friendship had its limits. They talked of leaving Haven – of traveling through the northern wildlands. There were rumors of inter-species settlements there – places where no secrecy was necessary.
Nick allowed his gaze to return to Seera’s stricken face. The weight of his hurt, worry and frustration made his chest tighten. He couldn’t help thinking how close they’d come. Somehow they could have left haven. They could have gone north with their baby! In the worst case, she could have had the child terminated! Instead she had disappeared, leaving him alone.
Of course he’d tried to contact her. He was sure Haven’s Encephalon Communications Network Assistant was tired of his attempts. Each time she told him the same thing. No Chatterbox was tied with the chatter stream frequency he was trying to contact. Now a month had passed without a word between them. Where was she? Had something happened to her? Or had she simply cut him out of her life?
Her words came back to him. “How could we be so stupid?” But they hadn’t been. They’d been careful. What faith they hadn’t put into protection had been handed over to the Cyrum’s naturally low fertility. No, the question wasn’t “how could we be so stupid.” What she’d really wanted to say was “why did we do it at all?”
The chatterbox clattered to the floor; Seera’s image disappeared as the unit’s link with his skin was broken.
Nick reached for the package. He tore it open, scattering its wrappings. Ten pink pills were nestled inside. He hesitated for only a second before popping one and chewing. He grimaced at the taste. They weren’t meant to be chewed. Instantly his discomfort was replaced by a relaxing tingle. It radiated from his chest and spread throughout his body. His muscles jittered as the blissful sensation intensified. He moaned in ecstasy. Everything felt loose and free.
He chewed one, then two more. They went down easily. The taste no longer bothered him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was screaming at him to stop, but he silenced it.
In the room, the dust stirred. Nick began to laugh as the sensation of pleasure exceeded anything he’d ever felt. Even making love to Seera never felt this good. He never felt the sudden release as his bladder let go. The sheets of paper stacked on his desk lifted into the air and began to circle as though born on gusts of wind. The forgotten bottle of booze surged up and across the room. It struck the wall and shattered. Syrupy red liquid splattered the walls, running rivulets to the floor. The tower of laundry wobbled and then spilled. Instead of falling, it rose into the air and whipped around the room.
At first, when pain surged through his head, Nick didn’t feel it. He was in the grip of such intense physical stimulation that nothing else seemed to register. Each rapid heartbeat sent bursts of pleasure through his limbs. The chair across the room rose and flipped into the wall. The crash broke through the ecstasy, and at long last, the pain registered. A primal squeal rose out of Nick’s throat and filled his senses. The room was alive with violent objects. His mind was swarming with a thousand stinging insects and jumbled images. Then the sofa he was on rose and flipped. Nick tumbled off. As he hit the floor a searing pain spread from his chest through his left arm. Each frantic heartbeat was a lance of pure agony. The sofa crashed down on his legs at the same instant the world melted away.
The storm of debris ceased, leaving only chaos. Nick lay face-down, his legs pinned by the sofa. Blood trickled from his ears. He did not move. The only sound was the muffled crying of a neglected child.
Hmm. It's very interesting. I like it. What's with the mad furniture, though? Weird...lol.
I'm glad you do. Thank you for reading. Don't worry, the furniture has a point.
Ah, okay. I figured it was important, somehow. You got any more written? If so, I'd be interested to read it.
Thanks for the interest. I have a whole other chapter. It's in the "A contract of Souls" topic. Since there doesn't seem to be a lot of interest I decided I'd keep new additions in the same topc as to not clutter the boards.:)
Ah, okay. I shall look.