Kill Switch (Notes of Necrosoph Book 4), page 10
I placed the food on the ground after taking an apple for myself, then sat there, meeting the poor thing's eyes, and took a bite.
Crunch.
Crisp, fresh, and delicious. At the sound, his ears pricked up. He sniffed the air then came within reach and snatched the apple. He tore it in half with a twist of a hand, which was impressive, then stuffed the piece into his mouth and chewed loudly. Juice ran into the fur, and as he began on the second half so his body began to relax. With relaxation came a slow, painful change.
There was nothing I could do to help. All I could do was watch and sympathize. At least he was changing, so I wasn't about to be the main course.
The hair receded first, then his torso shortened with loud cracks as ribs rearranged, and then his face gradually returned to that of a man. It took several minutes in total, rather than the usual few seconds for other shifts I'd witnessed.
When it was over, he lay on the ground, naked and panting, until the pain receded and he regained his focus.
"How you doing?" I asked when he moved to a sitting position.
"Been better. Been worse," he said gruffly, his voice deep and sour.
"I bet."
"What would you know about it?" he snapped, locking still-green eyes on me.
"I've been around. Seen a lot, done a lot. But I don't shift."
"There you go then, you don't know. Even the other shifters think they know, but they don't. It's fucking miserable. I hate that side of me. It's not even me, just a dumb animal I'm trapped inside. Don't remember it most of the time, and that's better. It's the remembering that gets me." He hung his head, long brown straight hair with a little silver covered his face and sat lank on his shoulders. His beard was thick and full with the same off-white patch on his chin. It looked cool.
"Sometimes it's better not to know," I agreed.
"Yeah, maybe. But it's a lot to live with. I've done some crazy shit, and that's just what I remember. Sometimes I get flashbacks days or weeks after and it scares the shit out of me. Know what I mean?"
"I know."
"Can I?" He indicated the bread and meat. I nodded for him to go ahead. He jumped at the chance and grabbed it then ate greedily, decimating the half loaf and getting it covered in grime.
When he was finished, he looked down at the remains and said, "Sorry. Excuse my manners. I'm not normally like this. It's the animal, it's still inside. Be better in the morning."
"Don't worry about it. I offered. I'm Soph, by the way."
"Shit, sorry man. Where are my manners? I'm Shiun. But call me Shi. And thanks."
"For what?"
"For not freaking out and trying to kill me. That's always a bonus."
"I wouldn't do that."
"No, but you'd hide up a tree, right?" He winked at me and smiled. "I remember you, from years back. I could sniff you out a mile away. Maybe I did this time. I'm a bit outside my usual haunt, but I go where the wolf goes, so what you gonna do, eh?"
"Guess you have to tag along," I chortled.
"Yeah. Fuck, man, this is so weird. I haven't sat down and spoken to another guy for like, ages. Keep to myself, if you know what I mean?"
"Me too. Less hassle, and I like a quiet life."
"Me too," he agreed, nodding vigorously. "Not that I ever get it. Between this animorph life and the fucking notes there isn't a lot of peace. I mean, it's once a year, right, but it haunts me and seems to take forever. Always recovering, then it's time to go again. Bastard notes, I hate them. What about you? You like some of the others and get a kick out of it? Think it's cool and gives you special rights?"
"No way! I hate it too. If there was one thing I could change, it would be the notes. But I can't."
"Amen, brother. Soph, where do I know that name from? I'm sure I've heard it before."
"No idea. I keep a low profile, but my name gets about. Not out of choice," I grumbled.
"Oh, shit! Of course. You're the Soph, right? The one every Necro of a certain age knows about. Shit, man, it's an honor."
"Trust me, it isn't. And you aren't serious, are you? I understand some know my name, but not many, right?"
"Mate, like everyone knows about you. You're a legend. You're what, over three hundred? Aren't many of that age still going."
"I know a few."
"Yeah, sure, but not on your level. Everyone else gets to wind down, but word is you get harder jobs than any other. And you get to see stuff, is that right?"
"Who told you that?" I didn't like where this was going. How would anyone know what happened to me? Then I realized that of course they didn't, it was the usual Necro gossip many loved to get involved in. Especially Necros who hung out together, thinking they were special when they were anything but.
"Dunno, just people. Nothing specific, mind you, just the usual drunken crap I suppose. Anyway, I'm kinda out of the loop, so to speak, so don't listen to me. Don't sweat it. They'll be jabbering about another guy soon enough. You know what they're like."
"Thanks, I appreciate that," I told him, even though we both knew he was just being kind and trying to stop me stressing out.
"No problem. And look, don't suppose you got any spare clothes knocking about, do you? I'm not cold, but I bet you don't want to be staring at my shriveled dick all night."
It took every ounce of willpower I had not to look, and after an awkward silence we both burst out laughing.
"Sorry, now it's all you can think of, right? Haha, sorry."
"It's okay, but let me see what I have. By the way, you have a lot of scars, almost as many as me." I nodded at his chest and the large slash right across his firm pecs.
"Yeah, comes with the territory, right? But I'm not even a hundred yet, still just a kid, so give it time."
"I hear that." I rummaged around and passed him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt as I didn't want to lose one of my valuable shirts. He slipped them on. They were a little baggy for his more wiry frame, but he didn't look half bad.
"What do you think?" he asked, spinning.
"Looking fine," I told him. "You want a drink? I was half pissed but you sobered me up, but now I could do with one."
"Oh, man, seriously? You bet. What you got?"
I held up the bottle and shook it. "Um, a small mouthful of warm wine each. Okay wait here, I'll be back." I headed down the trail and grabbed two bottles from the car then hiked back up. It took half an hour, but it allowed me to get to grips with having a guest, and offered him some privacy to get his head straight too.
I put a bottle in the pool and poured out a generous mug of the other bottle for each of us.
"Cheers," we said, as we clicked metal mugs.
Shi spluttered as he took a big mouthful. "Damn, that is fucking vile. This bloody wine issue is becoming serious."
"Tell me about it. I should have brought my own. I have some seriously vintage homemade brews in my basement. Don't know what I was thinking."
"You should taste my beer. It'll blow your socks off. Mind you, it tastes worse than this shit. Haha, anyway, here's to shit wine and good company."
"Shit wine and good company."
We chatted late into the night about not much at all. Just general banter about life and the Necroverse, without going too deep or depressing each other. We kept it light and funny, and the more wine we drank the lighter we got. He was a good guy, and I was impressed how together he was. It was a rare thing for his kind, and I hoped he'd make it another century. If he'd made it this far, then luck was on his side, so maybe he would.
When I opened a bleary eye in the morning, he was gone. The fire burned brightly, there was a stack of neatly aligned wood, and laid out atop the pile was a skinned rabbit.
I liked him.
REVOLUTION!
The easy roads morphed into smaller typical Welsh ones once I got closer to my destination. I was taking a slight detour to Barmouth, a familiar coastal town on the west coast of Wales. Once a popular place with the tourists because of the massive beaches and awesome ice-cream. I'd always enjoyed the atmosphere, so figured the few extra miles were worth it.
What bugged me most about this trip was that by the looks of it I was heading towards a lighthouse on somewhere called Bardsey Island, which meant it wasn't attached to the mainland. That was a problem. A big one. Boats were not my friend. They liked to rock side to side, but my stomach liked to not be rocked side to side. It enjoyed knowing which way was up and down, and to remain settled exactly where it was, thank you very much.
It was almost like this had been done on purpose.
I tried to put the complication out of my mind. After all, if I'd been sent this way then there was clearly a way to get across to the island. I didn't doubt it would suck, but didn't it always?
The road cutting through the middle of Wales was quiet, verging on empty, as I began the second leg of my journey. A familiar route I'd traveled many times over the years. Not as far north as a few years previously when I'd encountered that bastard Eleron, and he'd had his fun with me, but Wales wasn't exactly a large place so it still brought him to mind, probably because of the boat thing.
It still rankled. Being sent all that way just to mess about with an elf, with no chance of killing him. I was nothing but the warning shot, sent to remind him he wasn't welcome here. Problem being, the bastard had come on purpose just to get into a fight and have a little fun. And then I'd had to jump out of a boat and swim for my life, and had enjoyed neither activity.
Now here I was again, heading towards the sea, except this time I was driving rather than cycling.
Slowly, I got into that mindless state again. Just driving, my mind empty, everything working on autopilot. I just drove, eased around the light traffic, and kept on going.
I don't know when things changed, but I gradually came back to myself and realized that the traffic was actually starting to build up.
No longer was it just the occasional delivery vehicle or monster truck, there were cars and motorbikes, even several coaches with people waving out of the window at me, clearly excited to be out for a trip.
What was going on? Had everyone got a pass like me? These couldn't all be Necros. Could they? I shook my head and laughed at the thought. Of course not. It was because of the kill switch. The world had gone dark and people had finally realized they could do what the fuck they wanted.
The beginning of the end, maybe? Revolution?
No. It seemed more likely that everyone was just out on a jolly to the beach.
I eased up on the speed and took proper notice of the world outside the window. Last thing I wanted was to stand out now. Cars zoomed past, motorbikes roared ahead, the drivers probably feeling free for the first time in years, if they ever had. Some of the younger ones would never have experienced such release, and it showed by the dodgy driving. There were bound to be accidents.
Several miles later, the strangest thing happened. I was in a traffic jam. I slowed, then stopped, and immediately began to tap the steering wheel impatiently. What the fuck?
I couldn't even recall the last time I'd been forced to stop in traffic. Hell, I hadn't driven more than a few miles in so long that I didn't even recall when it was. We didn't do traffic jams these days. It went against all the rules. Everything those lucky enough to drive had come to expect.
I inched forward in first gear, then managed to get up into second only to have to drop back down immediately, and then we came to a dead stop. Ten minutes later, I was edgy and bored so turned off the engine, pocketed the keys, and got out to stretch my legs and check things out.
The driver behind beeped his horn and shouted through his open window for me to stay in my car in case the traffic moved. I glared at him. He wound his window up.
Moving over to the verge, I got a proper look at what the problem was. Seemed like there was a checkpoint, so I headed that way and I wasn't the only one. Most drivers up front were out of their vehicles too, impatient to get wherever it was they were going. Everyone was converging on the problem, which would only make it worse, but I was so intrigued I just had to go see for myself.
It was an utter confusion of stupid people and even more stupid government policy as far as I could gather.
Across the road in both directions, a series of movable barriers were manned by a massive police presence. They were constantly talking into walkie talkies and they didn't look happy about any of it. At least one question of mine had been answered. The police communication channels were open at least to a degree, and their walkie talkies didn't rely on any kind of internet connection. It would severely limit what powers they had, and any information input onto computers wouldn't be connected to their databases, but they were still up and running by the seems of it. I bet it was a nightmare for them, trying to keep control when they were basically working blind.
Not everyone held the same opinion. At the barriers, people were shouting and swearing and generally harassing the poor souls tasked with keeping them safe without receiving any thanks for the hard work.
"Seems like everyone wants to get to the beach," I noted to a young lad standing next to me, wearing a pair of bright swimming shorts, even brighter flip flops, and nothing else apart from a wide-brimmed hat.
"It's revolution at last," he said, clearly very happy about it.
"Or people going to the beach," I told him.
"This is the beginning. We're sick of being held hostage in our homes. We want freedom, and we wanna do what we wanna do. We want to have a good time and we—"
"Isn't that a song?" I asked him.
"Huh? Oh, haha, yeah, old timer, one of the best. You know it?"
"Know it? I was around when it first came out."
The young man studied me, then cracked a wide smile and laughed. "Good one. Haha, you nearly got me there. You aren't that old, mate, nobody is."
"Just messing with you. But what's the deal? Why's everyone giving them so much grief?"
"Because we're sick of being trapped. What right do they have to keep us locked up? We want to travel, we want to go party. We want to surf." He indicated a VW camper with several surfboards strapped to the roof. "It's our time now. Time for revolution!" He fist-pumped the air and grinned at me, hyped and eager for action.
"I get that. But what about the rules? You don't care?"
"Why should I? I'm young and I want to have fun. You know," he whispered, moving close to me until I could smell his strange aftershave, clearly a homemade concoction that maybe was what all the youngsters wore these days, "I've never been more than ten miles from my home until now. It's ridiculous. I read all the time, and this ain't right. In my folks' time, and yours I guess, I heard you could drive anywhere, take a flight abroad whenever you wanted, go visit any part of the country just because you felt like it. Even use as much power as you wanted. People used to go surfing every single day. Can you imagine it? Haha, course you can. Bet you got some stories to tell, am I right?"
"I've got a few," I conceded. If only he knew.
"Damn straight. And now I want cool stories of my own. I want adventure. Me and my mates," he indicated three young guys hanging out at the front of the VW, "are done with this shit."
"What about saving the planet? What about keeping the air clean and not using what little fossil fuels are left? Look at all these fumes. Can't you taste it? Can't you smell it?"
"It's the taste of freedom," he laughed. "It's time to shove it to the man. The world has gone dark, the coppers can't possibly process all of us without their computers. I heard the prisons are falling apart, that people are escaping left, right, and center because everything is connected to the web these days. Same for everything. It's meltdown, and we're taking back what's ours."
"But what about the planet?" I asked again, interested to discover how this generation saw things, and what they thought about the life they'd grown up believing was the norm.
"Planet's healed, my friend. They're keeping us in the dark about it all. It's been long enough. The air is clean, the world has changed. We have more than enough power now from wind and solar, and those bloody monstrosities out at sea harnessing the waves. They just don't want us to have it. They want us locked up and under control so they can…"
"Can what?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno man. But that's the fucking problem, eh? What are these fuckers really up to? Revolution." He ran forward, his mates tagging along, and soon they were lost to the crowd as they joined the chorus of shouts for revolution and general uproar.
I stepped back and onto the verge again, and watched as the crowd turned violent as I knew they would. The police resorted to truncheons and shields to batter them back. It was clear it wouldn't hold, and that this time the police orders were different from before, where the odd shooting had been common for anyone who stepped out of line. The crowd jeered as the police got back into cars and vans, and within several minutes they were simply gone.
The crowd shifted the barriers aside before everyone slowly returned to their vehicles, patting each other on the back and talking excitedly about a new beginning and how they were never going to go back to how things were.
I returned to my own car, and wondered if maybe this was the start of a revolution. Or would everyone fall back in line and do as they were told the moment the kill switch was flipped back on? And what choice would they have? It was all well and good, everyone taking advantage like this with the fuel they had stored, or the bootleg stuff they got, or they'd used a massive amount of their electric quota to charge their vehicle, but give it a day or two when all that was used up and then what? No, we weren't free. We were just blowing off some steam while we had the chance, then we'd be right back where we started.
Or would we?
It was all more than I could understand. All I knew was I had a guy to kill and these bastards were in my way. But I sat in my car, and tapped my foot and slapped the steering wheel until finally the line began to move. Within ten minutes, the vehicles were spread out enough to make it feel like life was how it had been for years, but with a few more cars on the road.
