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.