Chapter 9, Part I

Ehoti shuddered as the elevator glided to a stop. A day ago, the first floor was crawling with mentally stable guards, watching carefully for any signs of intruders. Now every one of those guards would be infected, all of them able-bodied and armed to the teeth. Ehoti revolted at the thought of having to fight their way through more guards, the cry of “Murderer!” resounding louder in his head. But as the door opened and a wide-eyed guard rushed toward them with a scream, he gave into his thoughts without much resistance.

To their surprise, most of the guards did not give more than a passing glance to the newcomers, consumed with the desires of It. Two guards grappled a few feet away, fighting for the ownership of some trinket. Another infected sentry stridently bellowed random sentences, his voice overcoming the voices of all the other guards.

It really was an eclectic array of chaotic activity, each man’s passion based off their base interests and personalities. Some guards even stood silently in a corner, gnashing their teeth together. The entire plethora of guards, to say the least, was frightening.

Leading the way to the door, Gerate shoved an inactive soldier out of his path and raced into the airfield, followed by his comrades. Several of the aircraft were on fire, the arid stench of burning fuel stinging their noses. Hurrying along, they saw the signs of destruction everywhere they looked.

Ehoti noticed that Desidu seemed to be lagging behind, looking intently at one of the burning aircraft. The rebel’s face looked alarmingly peaceful as he slowly began to walk toward the ship, almost as if he was in a trance. Ehoti ran over to him.

“Desidu, we need to leave here now! One of these ships could explode and kill us!”

Desidu shook his head. “It is calling to me – something tells me it will bring me fulfillment.” He continued toward the aircraft, watching the conflagration with interest. There was something wrong with him, and Ehoti began to worry. Quickly, he grabbed Desidu by the shoulders and turned him around. “We need to leave, now!”

Desidu shook himself free. “I will stay, Ehoti. I will stay with this beautiful-“

“WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?” Ehoti screamed. “You are going to kill yourself!”

“If this beautiful display of color cannot bring me fulfillment, yes!” Desidu smiled. “Looked at the brilliant orange-“

Ehoti grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. “You are coming with us, Desidu – even if I must drag you out of this wretched place!”

Desidu screamed, wriggling out of Ehoti’s grasp. “You can have your insularity if you wanted to, you bigoted idiot! I want to enjoy life! I want fulfillment-“

A tremendous roar cut him off midsentence, the shadowy form of some large creature visible through the smoke. Ehoti continued to pull on Desidu’s arm. “We have to leave, comrade!”

The sound of a great wind reached their ears as Ehoti fell to the ground. Desidu turned too late to see the Querilon monster bounding toward him with its gaping mouth opened wide. Ehoti scrambled away in terror as menacing jaws closed on the crazed rebel, ending his tragic life in moments.

As It had taken control over the creature’s mind, the monster itself had grown in proportion. Rising up on two enormous hind legs, the beady eyes watched the two remaining rebels flee into the smoke. But it made no move to devour them. They were two men – hardly more satisfying than the mouthful it had just consumed. There were greater populations of Netopians to be found in the city, and It did not worry about a living Netopian as long as they remained ineffective. Bellowing loudly, the monster turned around and ran into the downtown area of Netopia.

*****

Yive shut the door and turned to Reshnu, anger displayed all over his face. “I told you our rules forbid a man to communicate with a woman!”

Reshnu bowed his head, his knees shaking. “I’m sorry.” He now heartily regretted defying Yive, remembering that the old man had saved his life. Who was he, a little boy, to decide what was right and what was wrong? He felt terrible.

Yive sighed. “I know it is hard for you, Reshnu – you are in a very different culture than you once lived in. The rules are foreign to you, but they must be obeyed!”

Reshnu nodded. He did not understand these rules or their purpose. Some seemed outright ridiculous to him, and he wished that the society of the Veti was not so strict. But he began to wonder whether there was a reason behind them, and asked timidly where the elder had learned the rules.

The old man’s face was transformed at the question. It seemed an eternity to Reshnu before he finally answered the question. “I created them, Reshnu.” He sighed.

“But why? Why all these rules?”

Yive shook his head. “It would be difficult to understand-“

“Please?” Reshnu looked pleadingly up at the elder.

Breathing deeply, the Veti walked to the balcony and gazed into the night sky. Finally, he spoke.

“I used to live in Netopia City, Reshnu – with my wife and my only son. It was a time of peace on the planet. The republic we lived in allowed us to share the truth with others. But then things changed.

A young man rose to power – a young man fearful of losing that power. Though at first he was tolerant of the living and their message, the supreme authority he possessed began to corrupt him. Slowly, his heart turned against us.

Spreading the message soon became illegal and almost impossible. We were faced with a choice: to stay where we were in the defilement of the city, or to remove ourselves and start our own colony. Most agreed to move somewhere remote, where we could live in isolation and light. No evil would be allowed in.

But my son was of a different mindset.” Yive swallowed, his eyes wet. He continued on. “My son believed otherwise. He believed we should stay and spread the truth among the Netopian people, in spite of their hostility. The debate grew worse, until finally the day came for our surreptitious exodus.

He refused to come with us, instead running away to join a covert rebel group of the living. And that was the last we ever heard of him.” Yive forced his tears away, turning back to Reshnu. “May you never stray on such paths of wickedness. You have your entire life before you – do not waste it on frivolity! Heed the instruction of you father!”

The old man sighed, looking into the sky. “If only I could see Lova one last time, I would be content…”

*****

Narva stiffened as a dismal wail echoed outside, sending a shiver up his spine. How many people had this infection devastated? How many were dead? Were the infected citizens aggressive? Not much could be determined from the single window in his lodging place.

He turned away from the window and strode to the door. He couldn’t wait in this hole any longer – he had to know what was going on out there and how bad this new “infection” was! Grabbing a cloak from the rack, Narva donned it and carefully listened through the door for signs of the infected throngs.

Hearing nothing, he quietly opened the door, glancing into the empty street. It was such a strange-looking sight – a main throughway not dotted with a single soul. A sight that felt almost like an unearthly dream.

Narva shut the door and glanced in both directions, but no one was in sight, anywhere. Quickly, he strode to a near-by tunnel passageway and peered inside the dimly-lighted interior. There was not much he could see in the gloom, many of the overhead lights lying in pieces on the ground. Had there been a fight? There was no way of telling who or what had desolated the lighting.

He stiffened as a rustling noise echoed from the tunnel. Though he wasn’t sure, he thought he heard the faint but steady sound of someone’s breathing. Who would wait in a dark tunnel such as this, alone? Instinct reached his arm into his jacket, hand closed around his firearm. He was not going to be caught off-guard.

Slowly, Narva stepped into the tunnel and began to walk into the gloom, further and further away from the pale light of day. Now the overhead lights were few and far between, forcing him to trail his hand on the wall as he continued on into the depths of the tunnel. A stench arose; the smell of something long dead. Holding his breath, he removed the weapon from his pocket and pointed it in front of him.

Suddenly a figure emerged from the darkness, so quickly he didn’t have time to aim. Narva fired, the cartridge flying aimlessly into the inky blackness behind the stranger. Taking a step back, Narva fumbled for the knife he always carried in his belt. Could he have forgotten it in his anxiousness to see the city?

“Are you a friend or foe?” The voice was surprisingly young-sounding, probably belonging to a young man of about twenty-five. Flattening himself against the wall, Narva released the lock mechanism on his firearm and aimed at the newcomer’s head.

“I’m not going to hurt you – I was ordered to save, not bring down to the depths. Put down your weapon.”

“No!” Narva glared into the darkness at the figure he could barely distinguish in the gloom. “You could be lying, like I do every day!”

“So you are one of them – dead too? I was afraid so.” The voice sounded sad, as if it sympathized with him. But Narva had developed an intense apathy to sympathy. In fact, he had grown to hate it.

“Dead? You, who are veiled in the darkness of this tunnel, are more likely to be dead than I am! I don’t believe that filth about life and death! I am over life and death!”

“Then why do you fear me?”

Narva bit his lip and swallowed. “I don’t fear you – I simply serve myself and am going to keep this life, even if you must lose yours!”

The voice stopped for a moment as the newcomer contemplated this. “Go ahead, then. I kill myself every morning; I’m not afraid to die again.”

Narva scoffed. “Lies and baloney – no one kills themselves and lives to tell of it! Leave, before I kill you for your first and last time!”

The figure made no sign of moving, the steady sound of breathing still the same distance away. “Should I run from you when He ran to me? If anyone could have been repulsed, it was-“

Narva had had enough of this conversation. The stranger was not going to move, and the resolute courage was unmatched to any criminal he had ever met. Something was different about this person – and he did not want to find out what it was.

The shadowy figure did not flinch as Narva took aim, his finger tightened on the trigger. Was he bluffing, despite the possible cost? Who would bluff in the face of certain death? Something told him this was a bad idea, but that something was overweighed by the survival instinct wielding the gun.

The figure started as two loud reports split the air, followed immediately by silence. He was shocked to find that he felt no pain anywhere on his body, even though he was still in the same tunnel. Had his antagonist missed on both shots? The stranger cautiously stepped forward, gazing at the slumped figure of Narva leaning against the wall. And then he realized the truth.

The weapon had backfired – Narva had shot himself.

A brief moment of elation consumed him as he surveyed the injured Narva. He wasn’t dead, but would be out cold for some time, and this would provide enough time for the stranger to disappear into the city. He had been delivered!

A voice broke the stillness, drawing away his attention – a voice that was so deep it could barely be heard. “I should leave, now. He’ll be better for the experience, and now I won’t be a target-

“What if He had done that?” Another voice, more shimmery and light-filled, cut off the first. “You know I have to stay!”

“No, no! I would be crazed to do that! We need to leave, now!” The deep voice began to get louder. “I am not going to put myself in danger!”

“But He did, and I know-“

“I don’t care! I should have trusted me all along, and not gone with ridiculous reasoning that did not belong to me. Helping in times of trouble! I like that – putting myself, the most important, before others? Stupid and-“

“My express command.”

“Who cares out the ‘express command’? No one listens anyway – He even said that not all would accept!”

The stranger began to shake, his face breaking out into a cold sweat. His arm reached out and took hold of something he couldn’t see. The deep voice vegan to drown out the lighter voice.

“Is myself with me or not? There can only be one head-“

“And that rightly should be me!”

“No!” The deep voice was furious. “Besides, I cannot be stopped! I have the power of the darkness to crush all other heads, and the other side can’t do a thing without Him and His light!”

The man felt his fingers tighten around something, as if he was grappling for a lethal hold on a man’s throat. Horrible visions of his past life began to fly before his face, condemning him.

The lighter voice let out a muffled scream. “I can’t do this alone! You need to help me overcome my foe! I need to-“ The voice broke off with a yell as the deep voice screamed, shouting but gradually reducing in volume. It bellowed as the lighter voice grew louder and louder, until the bellowing faded out into silence. With a final yell, the lighter voice faded away too, leaving the man in the silence of the tunnel.

Chapter 8, Part II

Music filled the air, intermingled with merry conversation and frequent laughter. Servants poured in and out of a kitchen, bringing food and drink to the happy partiers. Confused, Desidu crept back to his friends, wishing he was back home in peace and quiet. “What are they doing?”

Ehoti shrugged, also bewildered at the merry festivities they heard. “A celebration of some kind, no doubt. Perhaps a birthing party?[1]

Gerate shook his head. “Whatever it is, it will not stop us now. We’ve come too far to be stopped by a birthing party. But listen!”

The rebels strained their ears, making out the voice of a little girl that was begging for more drink. She giggled as something swept her off her feet – probably her father or mother, giving her a warm embrace. Almost like one of the rebels might do to one of their own family.

Ehoti shook his head. “We need to do this quickly – I’m already sick at the thought of it.”

“What? The partiers, or the thought of killing them?” Desidu checked his magazine load again, procrastinating.

The guard sighed, wiping his forehead with the corner of his jacket. “Both. The man celebrating this party is probably the greatest source of evil on the entire planet. If anyone should die, it would be he.” He paused as the little girl squealed again, prompting a chorus of laughter from the merry-makers.

“But who appointed us as judges over the land? Assassinating the dictator might be as wrong as him killing us! What if we have fallen into the ways of darkness, through our pursuit of light-“

“What if, what if, what if!” Gerate glared at Ehoti. “This is hard enough without you adding guilt to our load! We all know that under normal circumstances, we would all agree to the morality of such an act! It is simply the gravity of such a decision that makes us falter at the doorstep!” He tightened his grip on the weapon, a shaking finger resting on the cold steel trigger. “Let’s get this over with.”

*****

Just as the waiter handed the glass to the little girl, a loud crack split the air, followed by a shout. All eyes turned to the waiter, who looked blankly at all those around him with an expression of fear. The glass fell to the ground, shattering on the hard surface. Slowly, he sank to the ground, laying to rest at the feet of the dictator.

All was silent for a moment, everyone too stunned to make a move. The waiter had been shot in the back – a tell-tale circle of red stained his white uniform. Crying, the little girl ran from the dead man to her father, hugging him tightly and looking apprehensively toward the three men that emerged from the curtain.

Gerate felt all last remnants of hate leave him as he tried to avert the gaze of that little girl. Were they men of hate and vileness themselves? Killing men, and even entire families? Could they-

“NO!” He could not bear to take another glance, another look into those pleading eyes. Even the sight of the horrified father sickened him, wrenching his stomach. Gasping, he pulled the lever on the side, releasing the safety mechanism. It would all be over in just a second…

Ehoti almost choked as he aimed for the dictator, pulling the trigger with a finger that shook violently. His conscience told him no. His entire being told him no. Everything that was within him screamed in opposition, reminding him that the life he possessed had not been given because of his love for He who gave it. The rebel shuddered as the man fell over, hitting his head against the refreshment table.

Desidu felt his heart race as his finger tightened on the trigger, sending a spray of bullets into the midst of the party. Almost crying, he swore to himself that the little girl would not die by any bullet of his, purposely keeping his line of fire away from her. Tears blinded his eyes, forcing him to shoot randomly at the assemblage of people.

He was furious with himself, dabbing violently at his eyes with the corner of his jacket. What kind of monster had he become? Why did his convictions not stop him from the evil he was committing? The scream of a dying man jolted him from his thoughts, bringing him back to the horrific present. And then, too late, he realized where he had been shooting in his moments of blindness.

“NO!” The rebel fell to his knees, crying without control. “I didn’t see her move until it was too late!”

Maybe Inusha was right, Ehoti thought to himself as the last man fell to the ground on top of the heap, slain by one of his own shots. We are murderers – murderers who do not care. Murderers who excuse their wicked crime, believing they are in the right.

The sight was unbearable to his eyes, forcing him to turn the other direction. Was he becoming soft, a wretched excuse for a gritty hulk? Or could it be that they had the wrong definition of strong, even of right and wrong? He forced his tears away and turned back to the gruesome spectacle.

Gerate had just finished piling the bodies up in the heap, his face anything but triumphant. Desidu did not make a move to help him, for the rebel was a complete mess of emotion. He sat in the corner, trembling and weeping – an ironic contrast to the Desidu of before.

And then a forgotten figure stepped into the room, countenance lit with triumph. It was Sahure, the rebel that betrayed their confidence and sold his alliance for a bribe. But his face did not remain triumphant as his mouth dropped, surveying the room he had left thirty minutes ago.

Ehoti suddenly understood. The dictator and his family were celebrating the discovery of the plot, elated that the dictator had eluded assassination – they had simply celebrated too early. The traitor stiffened as Gerate approached, sadness replaced by hatred.

“So you betrayed us, did you?” The lead rebel’s face was electrified with fury, his eyes flashing. “You betrayed our trust for the temporary pleasures of this darkness?” He reached his hand toward his belt, fumbling in a pocket.

Sahure bowed his head. “I needed the money, Gerate! If you were in my shoes, you would understand-“

“No I would not! You betray our confidence, our cause, and our reality?”

Sahure shook his head. “You’ll never understand-“

“And I don’t need to! Your actions have explained you, Sahure – a traitor to-“

Gerate stopped his tirade as the traitor began to tremble violently, his breathing sporadic and shaky. Something was not right – he almost looked as if he was suffering a severe case of shock. But there was more to Sahure’s strange behavior than biologic shock, Ehoti reasoned as Gerate backed away suspiciously. And then suddenly the rebel realized what was happening.

“He’s infected!” Ehoti jumped back, motioning to his friends. “It has finally arrived in the capitol of Netopia City!”

The commander backed away further, examining Sahure with some alarm. “It could be shock...”

“Just look at him!” Ehoti pointed to the traitor’s trembling limbs. “It takes over a host’s body, leading it to desire the lusts of the flesh! We all knew that It was coming – what else could it be?”

Gerate was just about to retort him when Sahure rose to his feet, eyes opened wide. Struggling to keep his balance, the man slowly walked toward the rebels with outstretched arms. The rebel quickly changed his mind.

“We need to leave – now!” Sprinting towards the door, Ehoti heard a screech echo dismally through the throne room, grating on his ears. As Desidu slammed the door shut, something hit against the door violently, falling onto the floor with a crash. It wouldn’t be long before Sahure found the other exit into the hallway.

The mass decay of Netopia had begun.

*****

Inusha stiffened as the sound of footsteps echoed through the dark corridor, the beam of a flashlight visible fifty feet ahead of him. For a brief moment he reached his hand into his jacket, groping for his weapon. The guard would never know what hit him in the darkness, and the passageway was secluded enough for the rebel to hide the evidence. It would be an easy way out.

The weapon clattered to the ground. This was not the way of a figure of light, nor the way of someone who cared for his fellow man. This was the way of the dead flesh that he had discarded, the body he resolved to avoid.

A shout arose from the sentry as the flashlight revealed the intruder in the hallway, standing weaponless with his arms outstretched. Why was he here? What was he doing? The guard’s voice shook as he ordered the stranger against the wall, fumbling for his communications unit.

Suddenly he screamed, falling heavily to the ground with a crash. Something was grabbing him from the inside, clinging to his brain. He struggled for control as the guard felt this feeling take control, subjecting him to its will. Picking himself up, the sentry vainly struggled to throw the creature off, but the creature was inside of him.

His hand reached for his weapon against his will, a voice inside ordering him to kill the captive. But the voice was his own – the creature and the guard had become one together. This was not what he wanted, and yet it was. The infected sentry looked up, scanning the hallway for the intruder.

But Inusha had fled. It may have not been the most courageous action at the moment, but the action saved him from almost certain death. Screaming in rage, the guard raced down the tunnel after him, his limbs shaking violently. Though Inusha’s head-start provided little chance for the man to catch up to him, It wasn’t concerned.

It had the rest of Netopia to chase him with.

*****

Reshnu wandered through the garden, gazing in awe at the colorful flora surrounding him. Though a few species of the vegetation he had seen in old manuscripts and environmental records, most were foreign to him.

He stopped as a sweet-smelling orange bush, marveling at the little flower-like buds sprouting from the vines. A small insect landed on one of the sprouts, drinking in the small protein fibers the flowers produced. Reshnu began to notice similar insects on the other flowers, a strange sight to a city-dweller.

And then he saw her, walking down the garden pathway, humming to herself. It was the same girl that Yive had forbidden him speak to, the one that seemed so understanding and kind. Her face was beautiful, the radiant white glow lighting up her delicate features like a rainbow.

Reshnu was usually a very obedient little boy, submitting to the authorities placed over him. Yive had told him he was not to speak to the girl because of their culture. But Reshnu had begun to resent the old Netopian and his constant deprecation of minor things. The boy had travelled to the Veti to learn about Lova, not to obey a list of rules. And even though something inside him told Reshnu that disobeying the Elder Yive was unwise, he resolved to speak to her anyway.

“Excuse me!”

The lady turned in surprise, noticing Reshnu for the first time. She smiled, but shook her head. “Hello Reshnu! But Yive must have told you that our culture forbids a man to talk to any other woman than his wife, except on matters of life and death.”

“Do you know Lova?” Reshnu looked pleadingly at her, hoping for a sign of recognition but certain of her dissent. The girl shook her head sadly.

He slumped. Was his entire trip in vain? If no one knew of Lova here, what had he accomplished? Was he now integrated into this community until he died? He looked up as the girl spoke again.

“My name is Tacia – I am the Elder Yive’s daughter.”

She seemed so affable and friendly that Reshnu threw all caution to the wind and boldly asked what Yive would never tell him.

“Why is your father so strict?”

The girl gasped, looking at Reshnu in shock. No one had ever asked such a question of anyone in their community, and she had never dreamed of such a thing. It was so natural to accept these superficial rules that thinking of anything else was revolting. Finally, she turned and swiftly walked in the opposite direction.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, whirling him around to face the imposing figure of the Elder Yive. Reshnu suddenly felt very small in the presence of this glowing one, almost afraid of the old man. The elder’s face was stern.

“Come with me, Reshnu. We need to have a talk!”

---

[1]A Netopian party held on the date of someone’s birth, celebrating the accomplishments of that individual. Though similar to a birthday party, the birthing party was more significant and more focused.

Chapter 8, Part I

The next few hours seemed to have gone by in a blur. The ascent to each floor. The shouting of guards and sound of gunfire. The bodies piled in bloody heaps. Everything seemed so wretched and so unreal that Inusha wondered if the entire ordeal was not some unearthly nightmare he could awake from and leave behind.

His chain of thought broke as the elevator glided to a stop at the tenth floor. But what was the use of thinking, anyway? Every time he tried to reason the situation out, accusing memories of dying men flashed before his eyes, sickening him. The evidence was so obvious that it did not even require concentration to determine whether what they were doing was wrong. It was simply easier not to think of it at all. Just to do it, and be done with it.

Gerate took the lead once again, the rebels following him into the hallway. But there were no armed guards waiting to meet them. In fact, not a single guard was in sight, anywhere.

Slowly, the rebels proceeded through the empty hallway, every muscle taut. Why would the corridor be unguarded – and out of all corridors, the one leading to the throne room! Were the guards all collected in the throne room with powerful weapons, prepared to kill them the moment they stepped inside? Or, by a stroke of luck, had the guards somehow perished or left their posts?

The lead rebel stopped and turned to his friends, keeping an eye out for a surprise attack. His face looked grim.

“What do we do now, Gerate?” Desidu looked anxiously at the elevator, waiting for an armed guard squad to emerge. Gerate just shook his head.

“It makes absolutely no sense why the throne room floor corridor would be completely deserted! I can’t believe it’s a trap – how would they know we were here-“ He stopped, face distorted in both horror and wrath. “Unless Sahure told them.”

Ehoti shook his vehemently. “Sahure may be a hard nut to crack, but he would never betray us, even under torture! He is a faithful comrade.”

Desidu bit his lip. “They might not have to, Ehoti.” Everything began to make sense now; the expectant waiting, the flushed face…

“Whatever do you mean, Desidu?”

“I mean that Sahure might have told them on his own accord.” Briefly, he explained what he had seen on the airfield.

Inusha could not believe it. Sahure, a traitor? A spy? He had spent more than a year training for this mission, growing to know that hacker better than the rest of the rebels. The idea of Sahure being a traitor seemed impossible. But as Desidu explained more and more of what he saw, he was not as sure.

Gerate sighed. “I thought I could trust the man like a brother. But now, it is almost as if I never knew him.” He raised his voice, face distorted with anger. “I trusted that man so well I told him everything! I spent all this time training him, eating with him, talking with him! All wasted!”

He calmed, lowering his voice to a safer level. “If I see that man, I will kill him on the spot.”

Inusha shook his head in disbelief. “He may be a traitor, a villain to the tenth degree – but you cannot kill one of the brethren! We took an oath to protect each other, regardless of what happened!”

“And did he keep that oath? No!” Gerate was angry again. “How can you love someone who slaps you in the face, who breaks all ties of friendship for money or fame?”

“The same way He-“

“Enough! I am tired of your pathetic loving morality! Sahure does not deserve our love – he deserves death, which we will serve to him!”

Inusha looked pleadingly to Ehoti for support, but only saw solemn agreement on his face. No one took issue with Gerate’s pledge, or protested the mass slaughter of innocent guards – except him. Was he truly wrong and the rest right? Or should he take a stand for the truth, despite the costs?

The memories were more vivid than ever – so vivid he almost thought the men were shouting his name in condemnation. He ended their lives, sending them to desolation. Murder could never be undone – but it could be stopped.

“I’m leaving!”

“Fine!” Gerate was furious. “See if I care, you traitor! Take care your parting steps do not entice me to prematurely end your life!”

Ehoti shook his head at Inusha, trying to reason with him. “It’s almost over, Inusha – soon we will be finished! Don’t leave us now – you will be caught and killed!”

And what of it? Better to be killed for doing the right thing, than living while doing the wrong. He had already done much wrong that could not be righted. Even the thought of doing more sickened Inusha, resolving him in his decision.

“Farewell, comrade. I-“ He could not bring himself to say more to this friend, for fear of ensnaring himself again. So sorrow-filled yet resolute, Inusha turned from his friends and walked to the elevator, ignoring the angered calls of Desidu and Gerate. He never thought the decision would be so hard to make, to leave his friends. They were like brothers to him – like Sahure had been. He took one last look before the elevator door closed, leaving the three rebels alone in the hallway.

It was Desidu who broke the silence, forcing them to focus on the task at hand. “The entrance is down the hall to the left.”

Gerate shook his head bitterly. “All this treachery weighs me down so much I can barely concentrate on this mission. Of all the people to betray us, Inusha-“

“I deem it wise to stop talking of Sahure and Inusha for the present.” Ehoti broke off Gerate, removing his weapon from his jacket. “We need to finish this quickly.”

And so the three remaining men reloaded their weapons with high-power cartridges, vainly trying to rouse the adrenaline of before. How had their spirits been brought down so low over the course of a few days?

None of them ventured to answer the question.

*****

The four men sat silently in their seats, watching as the trainer vainly tried to coax the creature from its cage. He shook his head in disgust, turning to the directors.

“It does not want to come out of its cage. Perhaps-“

“I have waited three months for the creature to awake from its sleep – do you think I would walk away now, simply because it chooses to be stubborn?” The primary director rose to his feet. “This is the first successful human-like primate we have created, and I want to see it in action.”

The trainer shook his head, sighing. “But it is not a human, and you know it. You cannot create a human from an animal, let alone an intelligent one-“

“I do not bend to the laws of nature, Simeon! Nothing can stand in the way of progress.” He sighed disgustedly, reaching out his hand. “Give me the bait.”

Somewhat worriedly, Simeon removed his glove, handing it with the chunk of raw flesh to the director. “Just be careful; your creation has fearsome jaws for a human.”

The man scowled, motioning for the trainer to step aside. “Keep your unprofessional opinions to yourself, Simeon, or you might find yourself on the street without a job.” Carefully, he approached the cage and smiled at the monster inside. For a monster it was indeed!

The animal resembled a human as much as an apple resembled a caterpillar. Four skinny legs protruded from a large greyish body, with a slightly smaller head stuck on top of it. The stringy hair that hung from its head could have been mistaken for thin rope. A row of sharp, yellow teeth peeped from its jowls, finishing off its grotesque appearance. It was, in other terms, an awful sight to behold, even though it had never awoken after the final medical procedure.

Now, however, two bulging eyes were opened wide, examining the room with curiosity. What was this place it now resided? What was the skinny creature in front of it, holding out something red? The creature felt dizzy and bewildered – but something else was beginning to grow on its mind. Slowly, the monster crawled forward, watching the thing in front of it closely.

The director’s heart leapt in exaltation. It had worked! For the first time ever, Querilon had produced something that lived – lived without subsequent death a few moments later. Time seemed to stop as he watched the living creation edge forward slowly out of its cage. He had done what no one else had, and for a moment, he was truly happy.

The trainer turned, looking back at the door. Through the gloom of a dark passageway, he saw the faint form of a man emerging from the darkness. Who could it be? No one knew of their secret training room, down here in the restricted area – had some prying staff member followed them?

Wenla continued on toward the door, oblivious to where he was. He had never seen a place like this before, with so many people and so much machinery, busy enough that no one noticed him walking aimlessly through the halls, gazing at all the sights.

“Who goes there?” bellowed a voice. He looked at the man standing in the doorway inquiringly, noting with interest the L-shaped thing in his hands. Somehow he thought he remembered that such things were bad, but the memories of the past all blurred in his head.

A shout distracted the trainer for a moment, focusing his attention on the elated director. “It is standing on all four feet! WE DID IT!” The director edged closer, holding out the bait further toward the monster…

And then it lunged forward, its large mouth opened wide. It was never quite clear what happened to the trainer, who forgot most of what happened through the sheer terror of it. Had interest been merely a precursor to devouring its prey? Had the doctor’s outstretched hand invoked the wrath of the creature? Or maybe it was the stranger that had approached the door – perhaps the carrier of a toxic disease that spread to the creature.

The director screamed, throwing the bait toward the creature and stumbling back. But his movement was not fast enough to escape the jaws, as the creature smashed into the seats of the assistant directors, chomping its teeth. One man barely escaped by leaping from his chair toward the doorway, leaving his friends to the same fate as the director. Both men and chairs disappeared into the fearsome mouth, a putrid smell filling the room.

The trainer grabbed the man’s hand and pulled him to his feet. Already the monster had swallowed its prey, now fixing its eyes hungrily on the two quaking men. Lying in a coma for three months made it hungry – very hungry. It lunged forward-

And Wenla jumped too late from his hiding place in the maintenance closet, landing just a few feet from the two terror-stricken men. Two seconds of horrific pain seared through his body as the world of Netopia vanished from view, clouding his eyes for a moment as he sat up in his bed. Wenla rubbed his eyes, looking about him in confusion.

Had it simply been a dream? But this was not his bed, nor his home. He had never seen such a place before. Though the room was dimly lit, Wenla could make out the form of rectangular objects surrounding him. Beds, yes – they were all beds. Every single bed had someone sleeping in it, several wires attached to each occupant’s head. As Wenla looked down at his bed, he noticed similar wires that were frayed at the ends. He had probably broke them when he sat up.

It was then that he noticed a man watching him a few aisles away. He had never seen the man before in his life. Yet somehow Wenla felt apprehension as the stranger approached, smiling widely.

“Welcome, my friend! I’m so glad you are here!”

“Where am I? What happened?”

The stranger laughed. “Why, you are in Tboté, my dear fellow.” Wenla nodded, confused at everything that was happening. Memories drifted slowly in his mind, the horrific last moments playing over and over again.

“I was killed by a monster.”

The man laughed again, clapping has hand on Wenla’s shoulder. “I know – I was watching you. You’ve done a good job, you know.”

A good job what? Who was this man who had been “watching him”? Was it the man that challenged him in the doorway? “Who are you, and how do you know me?”

The stranger bowed. “My name is Airlanda. Your name is Wenla, and I thank you for your service.”

Wenla shook his head. “I don’t even know you-“

“Of course you don’t – if you did, you would have not followed after my ways.” The voice held a slight tone of aggression, as if something was wrong. “You could have not done it better, you know – carrying around the virus to all the people of Netopia. Thanks to you, the wretched Unseen One will lose far more than He otherwise would have-“

“You must be talking of someone else, for I did none of these things! I have no idea who the Unseen One is, or what you mean by a virus. I simply want to go back to Netopia.”

The stranger laughed, shaking his head. “You can’t – you are dead! The dead don’t come to life once it is too late.”

“Too late for what? I am not dead – I am breathing, talking, and moving!” Even as he said this, Wenla noticed for the first time that there was no floor – he was standing on air. What was happening to him? He wanted to leave, but was afraid to ask again.

“You do know that you never were alive in the first place – your entire life was an illusion, a three-dimensional simulation. And to think of all the ones that are content to live this way – it is one of the most stupid things I have seen a Netopian do!”

Airlanda edged his way forward, seizing Wenla by both shoulders. “But now is not the time to dwell on such things, is it?” The guard felt the gripping fingers tighten their hold, easily resisting his feeble efforts to run away. Something told him that there was no escaping…

“Let me go, please!” Panic began to set in, causing cold drops of sweat to roll down Wenla’s face. If Death was not just an eternal sleep, then what was it? What had he, through following that controlling thing in his brain, brought himself to?

The room faded away in the mist, leaving no traces of both the beds and the man. But Wenla still felt the stinging grip of the man, a feeling that made him shiver inside. He blinked as the dim light in the sky grew brighter – so bright that he had to shield his eyes from the intense glare.

Suddenly the world began to spin, shaking and jolting so hard that he fell to the ground. A burst of new knowledge flooded his mind, overwhelming his emotions and earthly knowledge in one tremendous wave. He was to spend the rest of eternity in the world of the undead, suffering endless pain. Even as these thoughts raced through his mind, the blazing light in the sky faded to darkness, a terrifying death-like darkness. Poisonous fumes ran into his nostrils and into his lungs, causing him to choke. Every joint began to shoot jarring pain through his limbs as if they were growing too rapidly for his skin.

He gasped as black flames licked at his body, slowly engulfing him from head to foot. It had begun – the horrific eternity of suffering and torment. The never-ending flames that burnt every part of his body. The overwhelming empty feeling that made Wenla feel like vomiting.

And that was the last anyone would ever hear of the condemned border guard, though the effects of his madness and the choices he made while in Netopia would fester there until it was destroyed.

Chapter 7, Part II

“We are at the fourth floor.” Gerate sighed as he spoke to his comrades. “They have heightened security on this level and all the levels after leading up to the throne room on floor ten. If things get bad-“

He stopped as the elevator door glided open, revealing a hallway crawling with guards. But there was no need to complete the sentence, for everyone knew what he meant. Death to all men, life to the brethren. Strike X.

Inusha tried to hide his nervousness as he followed his friends into the hallway. He hated the deception they had to use at every floor to get past the guards. Of course, they really had little option, but if it was the Unseen’s will, would he not allow them to do it without deceit?

The rebels halted as guards blocked their way, demanding identification papers. Even as Gerate gave them his identification card, Inusha knew that they would not be able to deceive the guards this time. Something was afoot, he reasoned as he watched his leader reason with the officer in charge. Perhaps they discovered the dead guard – the one he had accidently murdered while defending himself. That would certainly give them grounds for suspicion.

Ehoti nudged Inusha, pointing behind them. “There are more guards coming up the elevator. I think they suspect something.”

Think? It was obvious that they suspected something. But what did they suspect? Was it them and their unbelievable story? Inusha watched as the officer demanded Ehoti’s papers and closely examined the information, finding fault with details no previous guard had noticed.

The two began to shout, emotions heating with every piece of information. Finally the officer ripped the paper in two, throwing it to the ground. They would have no security clearance from this level on, unless…

“Now!” Gerate whipped out his weapon and sent a spray of gunfire into the midst of the guards, crumpling them to the ground in a heap. Instantly the security checkpoint transformed into a battle-zone – only, the rebels were prepared and the guards were not.

Despite his growing anxiety about their mission, Inusha fumbled for his weapon and joined the fray, shuddering as a guard fell to the ground a few feet away. A guard who had simply been doing his job for the day before returning home to his family. He felt so sickened he could have vomited.

The fight did not last long, for the guard’s weapons were large and bulky, hard to unsling when surrounded by a jostling crowd and flying bullets – in addition, they did not have the training and experience the rebels had obtained.

Gerate laughed, wiping the end of his weapon with his jacket. “We did it, friends! We are still alive!”

Inusha ignored him, gazing around the room with tears in his eyes. This was not simply a natural catastrophy that created this chaos. He had helped create it, killing men who did not deserve to die. He was a murderer. And a liar.

And a figure of light. It was all so horrible that Inusha stopped thinking about it.

*****

Narva scanned the busy street anxiously for guards, but none seemed to be watching the marketplace this morning. He turned back to the dealer with a sigh of relief.

“It must have been a disinterested stranger.”

The dealer shook his head. “I distinctly felt someone watching us. But, please, let us finish this business and depart.”

As Narva handed the dealer the currency, he began to feel somewhat of the same feeling. It felt as if someone was scanning them from a distance off in curiosity, watching what they were doing.

Quickly, he hid the package in his jacket and strode away from the dealer, glancing anxiously into the crowds for a uniformed guard. But then he sighed in relief.

It was simply a regular citizen, no doubt confused at what two men were doing at the corner of a building. But it was no matter, for a regular citizen could cause no mischief without a guard to assist them. And not a guard was in sight among the throng of consumers.

But this regular citizen was one of Netopia’s biggest threats. For it was Wenla, the infected escapee from the Northern Border Outpost. True, Narva had nothing to fear from him in regards to being reported for purchasing narcotics. There were far worse dangers lying ahead.

It was working swiftly in the infected Wenla, spreading itself among merchants and consumers alike. It was what drove Wenla on and on, keeping his interest set on highly-populated areas such as the marketplace. The control of several men was not enough – It wanted to pollute Netopia with its foul infection. And It was well on its way to doing so.

*****

“How did you come to learn about us, Reshnu?” Yive motioned to a chair on the balcony, taking a seat himself.

“I just read about it.” What else could he say? Reshnu could not bring himself to tell them about the heroic Lova – not to hateful men like these. He felt as if he was going to cry, but restrained his tears with an effort.

“Well, I am glad you decided to forsake the darkened pleasures of this world to come live with us.” Yive smiled at him as he poured a golden liquid into a glass. “Try some of my fresh Yakob – it very refreshing.” He handed the glass to Reshnu.

It was refreshing, especially to a little boy who had not quenched his thirst for two days. It was sweet, though the slight hint of sourness made his tongue tingle. Reshnu also ate a few veva cakes, though the taste was rather bland after the drink.

He looked up as a young woman entered the room and began to talk rapidly to Yive. “Is this the boy you brought back, Father? How old is he? Where did you find him? I-“

“That is enough, Kartena! Young women must learn to restrain their tongues, especially when addressing their elders!” Yive’s authoritative tone faded as he began to answer her questions, leaving Reshnu to sit and observe the newcomer.

She could not have been more than twenty-one, he thought as she talked to Yive. And her eyes are so shiny, like the sun. But she cannot be his wife – he is too old! No, she must be his daughter.

But suddenly Reshnu wondered why she was not asking him the questions. After all, she was asking about him, not about Yive. He sighed as she left the room, leaving him and Yive once again to conversation.

“Why was she asking you all the questions?” He looked to Yive for an answer.

Yive cleared his throat. “It is wrong for women to converse with men on a casual basis – only on matters of importance is communication permissible. All the citizens of our community stick to this basic principle-“

“But why? Why do you do this?” Reshnu had never heard of such an idea before – it sounded very strange.

“It is the Unseen’s will, my child. We have assumed that the line between male and female should be quite distinct.”

The little boy was confused at the reference to the “Unseen”, but he wanted to talk to the pretty woman who seemed totally different than these men. Maybe she knew Lova!

“But did the man say so?”

Yive smiled, patting his head. “These topics are far above your understanding, Reshnu. Perhaps another time we can discuss this more in detail. But please, help yourself to some more refreshment while I go check on my disciples.”

Reshnu settled back in the large chair, looking out on the large fields and beautiful gardens. It was a very nice community, with plants that Reshnu had never seen before. But he felt sad inside, almost oblivious to all the new sights.

He had expected so much more than this – a tribe of people like Lova, really. Sure they glowed the same color, walked the same stride, and talked the same way as Lova had. But there was something about Lova that made him different and better than these people, who let the men in the forest die at the hands of the Vehimar. It was all so disappointing to him.

Chapter 7, Part I

Wenla peered from the overgrowth of thistles as the party went by, unaware of his presence. Who were these people who glowed with light – he had never seen such a sight before or even heard of such a thing! But something inside of him hated these people for that glow.

They were gone now, voices mere echoes in the stillness of the forest. But he still waited in his hiding until the last remnants of pleasant voices faded away into nothingness. Only then did he set off again toward the city of Netopia.

Wenla was still confused that he knew the way through the forest. He had never ventured into its depths. He had never been assigned to join a killing spree among an isolated people. And yet he knew the dark terrain of decaying trees and thistles like the back of his right hand. Perhaps, he reasoned, these new yearnings for freedom were the source of his new-found knowledge. Certainly nothing else had happened recently that could explain it.

But he never stopped to think whether he actually wanted what he was yearning for, which was exactly what It wanted. For if Wenla had truly focused on his dream to experience freedom, he would have realized that something was wrong if he sought so dutifully to see the city he was returning to in less than a week. The industrial province of Netopia City had never held any excitement for him in the past.

It was solely because of It that he continued on to fufill It's dreams despite the difficulties. Slowly, the chains of darkness were drawing nearer and nearer to an unsuspecting people ripe for infection.

    *****

Areola’s heart sank as the doctor explained the catastrophe through his blinding tears. Even now, he clung to the hope that somehow they might recapture the infected man, but overwhelming doubt took hold of his mind, a mind divided between three different feelings.

He felt contempt for the man who would sleep on duty, even at the peril of his people. What level of fatigue would bring a man to do such a thing, especially one sworn to protect Netopia? Because of the doctor, every citizen stood the chance of infection by a horrible disease without cure.

Areola also felt saddened for Wenla, a man driven to actions he would not want in his right mind. He knew Wenla – they had joined the military together, life-long friends and comrades. Now he was – well, a monster that needed to be tracked down and captured, strapped to a bed until he either died or healed from this horrific disease.

But a third, fatalistic feeling began to grow on him, one which he had not even experienced before. What was life, anyway? What was there to live for besides the political dream? It felt so depressing to think that his life was simply a course of unrelated events with no set destination. And now, it looked as if it was going to grow decidedly worse.

Areola broke his chain of thought as the doctor rose from his seat, trembling. “We have to chase him, Areola!” He looked pleadingly at the guard. “We cannot let him go free and contaminate the entire planet!”

Of course they could not – it would break every rule of morality and decency that existed. They had let the prisoner escape their grasp to flee to the outside world, and it was their moral responsibility to take him back. But what was morality anyway? And what defined it?

Slinging his heavy pack over his shoulder, Areola looked around at the room he had occupied for a single week. It was still shocking how much had happened in such a short amount of time, especially at a remote border outpost such as this. He would have never guessed at such a week before he experienced it.

As they entered the corridor, Areola looked vainly for signs of the escapee’s path. He could have exited the outpost any way he wanted to, reasoned the guard. Though if he still felt enough self-preservation to care, he would probably have gone through the ventilation room to avoid being traced.

“What do you think, Areola? Which way?” The doctor had calmed somewhat, but his speech still shook a little as he questioned his friend. Areola sighed.

“The exit in the ventilation room is probably the most secretive way one could leave the outpost, but Wenla could have simply used the emergency exit in a hurry to escape. There is no real way of knowing.”

Of course there was not, thought Areola as he opened a door and stepped into the cold ventilation room. There is no real way of finding him at all – it is a hopeless mission. And he felt hopeless too, but tried to mask his emotions for the sake of the already-unstable doctor.

The doctor stopped, his limbs shaking even more than before. Steadying himself on the wall, he looked pleadingly at his friend. “I feel sick, Areola. Could we – stop for just a moment?”

The guard could only nod, motioning to the corner. However much he hated the doctor right now, Areola knew that he could not leave without him. Cure or no cure, It would be better fought by a trained physician than by a simple guard. He watched in disgust as the doctor sank into the corner, shivering in the cold.

The military created men, not weaklings. And yet this disease, whatever it was, made stalwart guards into wimps without any conceivable explanation-

Diseased. The only explanation for the doctor’s strange behavior. The only explanation for his continual weakness. It could be nothing else – the man had spent an entire week caring for the infected, keeping them alive. If anyone would be infected, he would be!

He looked up a second too late to see the doctor spring to his feet and run to the main ventilation unit. The physician wrenched at the door, forcing it to open a few feet. Quietly he turned to Areola.

“It’s over, my friend. You made a good comrade.”

“NO!” Areola almost screamed as he protested. “YOU CANNOT DO THIS! Come back and we can-“

The doctor shook his head sadly. “Life is meaningless to me. I feel sick and worn by fatigue. This life is wretchedness and emptiness – I do not want to live any longer.” He smiled faintly and waved, slowly releasing his hold on the grate as the fan pulled at his body. “Goodbye, Areola.”

“NO! YOU CANNOT DO THIS-“

Areola fell to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes like a river. He was alone, and for the first time he felt it so deeply that it surpassed all other emotions, even the horror at the doctor’s suicide. Depression would be such a horrible understatement that it barely deserves mention here.

He looked up to the ceiling, eyes awash with tears. “There has to be something more than this! I cannot live life how I have, for emptiness and sorrow! Is there something more – something to hold onto? Answer me, whatever or whoever you are! If this is truly it,” he looked around at the dismal surroundings, “than I will follow the doctor to death, the only thing that can offer me relief from this aching empty feeling inside of me and all around me!”

He had nothing to live for, and nothing to die for. Just as if he was-

And then Areola finally understood. It is almost impossible to describe in mere words how he understood, or why he understood – he just understood everything as plainly as if he had known it all his life. Now everything made sense.

“I’m dead.” It was so revolting to Areola that he wanted to cease existing. His life – an illusion? His body, a rotting corpse? Looking around the room, the guard began to see things with a new perspective. None of this was real.

But even as he adjusted to this new reality, something else was there. Areola could not tell what it was, but it was so real to him that he could have touched it. Everything in the room seemed to shout it at the top of its lungs, even his very body joining the chorus.

And It was alive. Not the It that devastated men’s lives, but a different It, something that seemed to shout his name over the whir of the ventilation system. It was not an illusion – and it was calling to him to come.

It seemed to encompass everything, the filler in a world of emptiness. The only real thing – the only thing one could live for. Areola began to desperately wonder if It could possibly be for him, his last hope for life in the midst of death.

But as his heart leaped in his chest, another feeling of despair and condemnation began to weigh it down again. He was dead – dead men always remained dead. No man had ever risen from the grave to glorious, purposeful life. His mind must simply be playing tricks with him.

And then the voice spoke again, calling his name. His name, as if he had always been a close companion. The doubt pulled harder, trying to divert his attention from this wonderful, beautiful voice that knew him. Memories of the infected flashed before his eyes, bombarding him with the past. He could be infected, and who could tell the results of such disease if one was actually alive!

Suddenly he made his decision, pushing all his doubt aside for a brief moment. Areola did not care that he might be infected. He did not care whether he deserved It. He was going to take it, and whatever came would come.

A warm feeling crept over him, starting at his feet and slowly moving up his body. He was glowing! Areola looked in disbelief at his radiant skin, shining a pale white color. It seemed so – real.

Quickly, he looked up at the surrounding room, scanning the surroundings. There was the same room he had been in before the change, before his skin glowed. The same ventilation system whirring, the same metallic floor dully clanging when he took a step. But everything was viewed from a different perspective.

He was alive. Life now had meaning. What that meaning was, Areola was still undecided about, but he knew that he needed to follow It – the truth and the life. But before he left the compound, Areola knew he needed to do something he would have never done before his life. He needed to release the prisoners from their bonds.

Slowly, he stepped in the corridor and trudged to the ward, each step smaller than the step before. They were lunatics! Who knew what the infected men might do once they were released? Did not he and the doctor plan to track and recapture the escaped Wenla?

But who was he to judge them? If he left them here, they would starve to death, foul wretches though they were. And Areola knew that such an act would be contrary to the will of this life that he lived for. With that decision, he quickened his pace until he reached the ward door, which he opened slowly.

There were the beds, the occupants strapped down tightly to prevent their escape. Many times a day he and the doctor would check the bonds of the infected men, to reassure the strength. And now, after all the effort expended, he was to release every one.

A wave of sadness swept over him as he looked at his friend Beru, the diseased man’s eyes looking blankly at Areola’s face. So dead-looking – and he knew that it was not limited the outside body, either. Quickly, the guard whipped out his tactical knife and snapped the straps binding Beru to the bed. Without waiting for response, he moved to the next.

It was soon finished – every captive was now free. Areola felt horrible for his action. It felt so wrong, going against his second-nature military training he spent four years of his life learning. And yet he knew that somehow, this new life and what it defined as right was more important than the military’s demands.

Quickly, he ran to the door and entered the corridor, taking a glance back at the figures. He still was afraid of what they might do, even to him as a living man. Memories of the crazed Wenla still were as vivid as when they had taken place – too vivid for him to remain close to the men.

He strode through the hallway until he reached the emergency exit door – the point of no return. Areola’s identity card was sitting on a desk in his room, his only means of entering the outpost. This decision to leave everything behind began to mean much more to him than earlier. If he left now, there was no way of turning back to his former life.

Slowly, Areola stepped forward and opened the door, shivering as a burst of cold air blew through the opening. It seemed so radical – this decision to change everything. But he was a new identity, defined by his life. Not his occupation.

The lock clicked as he slowly released his hold, forever sealing him from his former life. He was free, a different freedom than Wenla’s several hours ago. It was a freedom to throw off the chains of his past and embrace this new life. It was freedom in the Life-Giver; the Unseen.

It was the only freedom that existed.