Utopia Falling, page 2
Her flesh felt good in his grip.
Lorique giggled, telling him she thought so too.
With her calves, she pulled herself in even tighter, ever closer, pressing every inch of her body snug against his. She looked down at him as he held her tight. Their eyes met, and she locked intertwining fingers behind his head. Pulling his face close to hers, they kissed. He poured everything he held in his heart into that single kiss. He always did.
He mustered every bit of willpower to leave Lorique behind and prepared to set out for work.
As he extracted himself from her affections, walking towards the door, he extended his arms out the bedroom window, grabbed both opposing shutters, and pulled them closed.
Lorique’s husband could not have known their life together had ended with that kiss. It was the last time he would ever see her.
Across the street, Quith, still seated at the café facing Lorique’s apartment, observed two arms reach out the second-floor window. The white-haired assassin didn’t speak, but signaled to Dylla, it’s time.
Dylla addressed her team. “Okay. Get ready. Her husband will be leaving in a few moments. Leave no trace. And make sure you get rid of her body.”
Open Your Eyes
Hensdale: 27th day of the Salmon Moon
Daedyn | Reyne
The brothers had made it from their shared homestead to the outskirts of Hensdale’s market square. Hensdale was a small community of less than five hundred, made up mostly of farmers, ranchers, and assorted agricultural laborers and supporting trades. An inconsequential village but for alphen nut production, in a lightly populated area of the Peoples Republic of Kantos.
Daedyn, confused at the state of their discussion, called to Reyne as they walked apart on opposite sides of the road, “When did this conversation go wrong? I’m just saying, Mithany doesn’t get me goin’. But, hey, great that she does it for you.”
Reyne shot back, “Fuck you. She wouldn’t have you, anyway.” He didn’t intend his words to be mean or hurtful, but a competitive streak ran deep into their unbreakable bond.
The sound of horses and wooden wheels attacking the gravel surface grabbed Daedyn’s attention. A cart pulled by horses shot past, and when it was gone, Reyne was lying on the ground, and much to Daedyn’s consternation, Reyne wasn’t moving.
Daedyn dashed across the familiar roadway to his brother’s aid. His immediate efforts proved ineffective in bringing Reyne back to the conscious world. One knee on the ground alongside Reyne’s limp body, Daedyn’s frantic mind searched his brother for any sign of movement. Although blood was absent, none of the usual telling signs of life appeared to Daedyn during his desperate and rushed visual inspection. He lowered his ear to Reyne’s mouth to realize shallow breaths escaped his brother. Yet the discovery did little to bring relief to Daedyn, who continued to coax more determinative signs of life from his brother’s motionless body.
Only seconds passed when Daedyn caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He tore his attention from Reyne, and to his surprise, several of the townsfolk were racing towards him. Villagers from the nearby market square who’d caught sight of the wagon veer into Reyne came running. Some offered help. Others were there for the excitement. Daedyn dismissed them all from his thoughts and remained attentive to his unconscious sibling.
Others, curious at the rushed activity, couldn’t resist the draw, and it didn’t take long for the wave of voyeurs to stake their territorial claims just beyond Daedyn and Reyne.
A woman named Dorana tried to peek between the shoulders of the gathered onlookers. Known throughout the small village for her ability to find her way into everyone’s business, she said to her wife standing next to her, “Can you see who it is?”
Without turning around, another onlooker spoke up. “It’s those two guys over at the alphen grove. You know them. The brothers. The nut farmers. One of ‘em’s down. Hurt bad.”
“I think it’s the nice one,” Valillia, Dorana’s wife, replied. “Not that other one. You know the one I’m talkin’ about. He should be the one lying there. Not the nice one.”
“Oh, I don’t like the older one. He’s such a smarty-pants,” Dorana said.
“Ladies,” one onlooker cut in, “how about a little compassion here? The guy’s brother’s lying there unconscious.”
Dorana shot back, “Well, is he breathing? Is he?”
“Yeah, but he’s still unconscious, you old bitties.”
“I don’t like you,” Dorana said, poking her head through the crowd to show him her stern, scrunched-up face.
“Come on, Dorana, let’s go home. He’s so rude,” Valillia offered.
The two women joined arms and walked away from the scene of the brothers: one lying motionless, the other frightened, imploring, trying to coax a reply out from unconsciousness.
Daedyn pleaded, “Come on, Rey, open your eyes.”
Muffled voices seeped into his consciousness, starting Reyne’s return to the world around him. He pried open one eye, but his sight didn’t perform as expected. Forms, the shape of people, were scampering about, yet without enough definition for him to be certain of who they were. A blinding white haze filled his vision as it hung over the silhouetted human shapes.
Reyne pondered what had happened but stopped mid-thought. Pain interrupted, hammering hot spikes through each eye, reaching deep into his brain, wiping every other thought from his awareness.
The silvery glare permeating his vision proved painful. Closing his eyes to escape the searing pain, he strained to listen to the din of voices.
His mind, in a fog, battled two fronts: blazing light thrashed at his eyes, and disjointed speech attacked his ears. All he could put together was his ass was on the ground; his head hurt like hell; and there were lots of people around. He was missing the details of how he got himself into this predicament. Through sheer willpower, he did his best to focus, yet, shadows moved against the backdrop of the overwhelming whiteness and silhouettes danced across his vision.
The haze in his head was giving way in small measures, but with increments of awareness came magnitudes of pain. Gradually, more sounds took the form of words. With both eyelids locked down, he concentrated on what he could recall.
Reyne shook his head—a mistake.
Fuck!
He tried to get up but couldn’t. A sharp, needle-point ache at the back of his neck kept his mind focused inward, ignoring the people around him.
He reached around the back of his neck. Feeling around, he probed the spot with his fingers, searching for anything akin to wetness or even something crusted, like dried blood. Reyne brought his hand around from the back of his head. He propped open both eyes and looked down. Empty fingers announced no blood.
Nausea and a cold sweat swept over him. Still on his ass yet sitting up, Reyne grabbed his stomach with both arms, leaned to one side, and retched. It was a dry heave; nothing came up, save more pain. He retched again and again. Agony was the only thing escaping the pit in his stomach.
Reyne took in a few deep breaths to calm himself through the anguish and nausea, but calmness didn’t answer the call as a series of hammer-like blows pounded the back of his head.
What the hell!
To distract himself, Reyne turned his focus to the shapes and faces all around. They were looking down at him. He didn’t like it. He wasn’t comfortable with all the attention. Never had been.
It was the Feast of Teth, and more people were in the square than normal, although the holiday didn’t include any village-wide celebration.
He struggled to get up. Hushed silence overtook the small gathering as though waiting for some pronouncement of life or death.
The young businessman rubbed the back of his neck. “What the hell happened?” He wasn’t certain he was speaking the words aloud, and he saw his brother Daedyn standing in front of him. Reyne watched his sibling raise one arm to silence the onlookers. Daedyn squatted down on his haunches and rested his hands on Reyne’s knees.
“Rey—Rey—can you hear me?”
“Daedyn?” Reyne blurted, not fully trusting either his ears or his eyes. “What happened?”
“You dumb fuck. You stepped into a moving wagon. How could you miss it? It’s the size of a small barn. The horses pulling the damned thing passed between us, and I guess you never saw it because even after the horses passed inches from your back, I’m guessing you turned and stepped right into it.”
“A wagon… huh,” he cut his brother off mid-sentence. “Guess I never saw the thing coming.”
“Anyway, I couldn’t see exactly. The horses and wagon blocked my view. I’m guessing you stumbled after being hit, then fell ass-backwards. The wagon was from the Temple, but they just drove on. Like nothing happened. Probably that asshole Fegmin. Then again, maybe he didn’t know he hit you. Nobody could be stupid enough to step into a moving wagon, huh? We’ll take a walk over there later, after you’re up and about, and see if we can find him.” He paused and followed with, “How could you not see a fuckin’ wagon?”
Reyne could see the relief on his brother’s face.
“Well, that’s one way of escaping those greedy bastards,” he said, half-laughing before realizing some of the crowd was still there. Speaking ill of the Temple wasn’t just a slight to the Temple of Life but a slap in the face of the religious folks of Hensdale. Even though most of the onlookers had been neighbors and friends for years, folks didn’t take kindly to open criticism of the Temple of Life. The Temple was the positive guiding force for so many throughout civilization.
The good folks of Hensdale, like most in the region, were religious followers to one degree or another. There were the true believers, and there were the believers in name only. The fervent devotees wouldn’t take kindly to Daedyn’s comment.
Daedyn leaned in for only Reyne to hear. “Fuck ‘em, if they don’t like it.”
Reyne scanned the faces of those still hanging around and realized he knew everyone there. Reyne put one hand on his knee and planted the other hand on the tree behind him. He tentatively rose, yet didn’t get far. Vertigo seized him and he fell back.
While falling back, time drifted. He fell at a lumbering pace, if only in his mind. Thistles dancing in the wind appeared frozen before his eyes. Seconds became minutes. Reyne watched the crowd mull about as though passing through molasses. Among the usual coats, dresses, pants, and other apparel worn by the gathered onlookers, the shabby, filthy, torn, and tattered clothes of one person grabbed Reyne’s attention. In his slow-motion world, he caught sight of an old vagrant. Even in his current state, the old vagabond looked familiar. Reyne spied him slinking about in the background. He might have asked Daedyn, “When was the last time you saw the old coot around here?” Yet, the words never came out.
Reyne watched himself from outside his body, falling back while the beggar held his gaze. He wasn’t sure who looked away first—himself or the shabbily dressed old man. All at once and without warning, time snapped back to normal and pulled Reyne’s mind into his body. He tried to put his hands down underneath himself to soften the plunge, but he wasn’t quick enough. He tumbled back. Hard. Right on his ass. “Damn, that hurts.” Reyne grimaced, leaned to the side, and rubbed his butt.
“Take a minute. Just relax. We’re in no hurry,” Daedyn said and took a seat beside him on the hard, gravelly surface. “We’ll sit here as long as you’d like or until my ass can’t take these rocks anymore. Whichever comes first.” Daedyn paused. “Cause that’s just the kinda guy I am.”
“Screw you, asshole. It hurts.” Reyne pushed his brother, not quite knocking him over. Daedyn laughed. Things were getting back to normal, and it didn’t take long for Reyne to think he’d caused no actual harm by his stupid mistake.
The two brothers sat there for another few minutes, talking. Daedyn, by chance, noticed a strange mark on Reyne’s neck. It was a small, light-brown circle with a single raised bump in the center. Tiny. It was ever so faint and ever so small; hard to notice. But it was there. Daedyn had seen something like it before. Without drawing attention to it, Daedyn figured he’d get a better look after they both stood up.
Daedyn rose, brushed his hands on his pants and stuck out an arm. “Let me give you a hand,” Daedyn said and pulled Reyne up. “You’re lookin’ a little better.”
Reyne brushed the dirt off his butt.
Daedyn put his arm around Reyne’s shoulder, leaning in close. “I’m glad you’re okay, little brother.”
Reyne frowned. “Shit, we were born only minutes apart. Good thing too, since Mom saved all the good-looking genes for me, the cute one.”
“Says the man who looks a lot like me.”
Not giving Daedyn time to enjoy his observation, Reyne doubled over, shaking, retching, and coughing up blood.
Brothers in Arms
Hensdale: 27th day of the Salmon Moon
Daedyn
Reyne’s vomiting continued for a few more moments. Throaty grunts rasped rhythmically before giving way to intentional coughs. Daedyn looked helpless while Reyne wrestled back control over his body. Another minute passed with Reyne doubled over before the incessant hacking stopped.
“What the fuck was that?” Daedyn asked in a tone somewhere between a question and a demand.
“I don’t know. Couldn’t stop puking.” Reyne rubbed the back of his neck. “Throat’s a bit sore, and I’m a little tired, but I’ll be fine.”
Despite Reyne’s affirmation, Daedyn didn’t buy the I’m-okay act. “You sound a little hoarse.” Daedyn moved in close, hoping to glimpse the mark on Reyne’s neck.
“What, d’you wanna kiss me or somethin’? Back off,” Reyne demanded.
“Kiss you! I’d rather smell the beer farts of a hundred drunks than kiss your ugly face.” Obvious to Daedyn, Reyne wasn’t fine despite his declarations to the contrary.
Before Daedyn moved away, he leaned in for a closer inspection. He wanted a better look at the tiny mark on Reyne’s neck. Daedyn wondered if the mark had something to do with the shaking and vomiting. A covert inspection confirmed his suspicions. The mark looked like an insect bite. Not just any bite, but one, Daedyn suspected, from the venomous spiderworm.
The creature was either a worm-like spider or a spider-like worm. Daedyn didn’t remember which. What he did remember, was that spiderworm venom was nasty stuff. It rarely killed, but it could. Venom from the strange-looking, short-bodied worm—or was it a long-bodied-spider, with eight long legs and two short piercing fangs—heralded death in rare cases. To be safe, Daedyn knew to seek treatment as soon as possible. Lucky for Reyne, Daedyn recalled just enough of his schoolboy lessons.
Spiderworm bites were rare but not unheard of in and around Hensdale. Folks took extra care to keep an eye out for the creatures and avoided their known habitat. The Arachnid Annelidan hybrids were underground dwellers, rarely seen above ground, and the spiderworm rarely bothered above-ground dwellers unless threatened.
Daedyn considered either Reyne had a concussion, or venom from the bite triggered Reyne’s puking spell.
With a bite to the neck, so close to a major artery, who’s to say how fast-acting it might be? Daedyn didn’t want to alarm Reyne, but he wanted the village’s longtime doctor to examine him sooner rather than later. Daedyn counted on Doc Hollid Brenal having the anti-venom serum to treat Reyne. If not treated in the next few hours, the poison might well seep from the site of the bite on his neck and into his bloodstream and begin its trek to Reyne’s heart, where it would do its worst.
“Hey, Bro, what do you think? Maybe we have Doc Brenal check you out.”
“I’m a little tired, but I’m fine,” Reyne said in a gravelly rasp.
Daedyn didn’t want to get Reyne upset, so he didn’t share his suspicions. Fortunately for the village of Hensdale and fortunately for Reyne, Doc Hollid Brenal, while the only doctor in Hensdale, was the best in the entire region.
Daedyn had time. “Not to worry, you’ll be fine. But just to be sure, the Doc should check you out.”
Daedyn called out to the gathered onlookers, “Anyone see Doc Brenal today?”
Hushed silence filled the air.
We Have a Problem
Evidar
Lesni
The door to the underground dwelling was set in a structure that looked like a cairn. Gray skylight the color of charcoal did little to illuminate Evidar’s dismal landscape—a world forever in darkness. Mister Lesni, Dylla Weisner’s liaison, was late for an appointment he’d been summoned to. He hoped to walk away with his life from the hastily requested meeting.
Mister Lesni didn’t know why he’d been summoned. He’d done as he was asked—or did he miss something? He was running late, and that didn’t make his chances any better. The lack of a specific unit of measure and the absence of even the hint of a shadow left time a less certain construct in Evidar’s reality. Instinct told him morning was slipping away, and in the dimension of Earth’s dark twin, time was measured by instinct. It may have been morning, yet it looked much the same as midnight. But that too was normal in the world from which Mister Lesni, Dylla Weisner, and her team of assassins hailed. He stayed behind while the others transfigured to the utopian version of Earth, Tartica, in order to complete their task aimed at saving Evidar’s future by killing those who threatened it—before they ever got the chance.
Several similar bunkers that served the purpose of housing littered the dorp, if it could even be classified as such, given the utter absence of cohesion amongst the occupiers. Survival, or more precisely, the struggle for survival, was all the small group of homelings held in common. Though they approached its demands separately.
