After The Pandemic - Smith: The End of the World (6) (998 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: After_the_Pandemic Smith
Rating: 2 on 17 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack McCallum (View user info) at 2005-07-27 16:49:09 EDT
Related Tales...
ATP - Intro http://www.ubersite.com/m/61238
ATP - Background
-Corrigan http://www.ubersite.com/m/61296
-Variant C http://www.ubersite.com/m/61350
ATP - Smith tales
-Archangels 1 http://www.ubersite.com/m/61513
-Archangels 2 http://www.ubersite.com/m/61755
-Archangels 3 http://www.ubersite.com/m/61985
-Archangels 4 http://www.ubersite.com/m/62289
-Archangels 5 http://www.ubersite.com/m/62570
-Smith in D.C. http://www.ubersite.com/m/64167
-Smith at Sea http://www.ubersite.com/m/64857
-Smith: The End of the World (1) http://www.ubersite.com/m/66658
-Smith: The End of the World (2) http://www.ubersite.com/m/68176
-Smith: The End of the World (3) http://www.ubersite.com/m/69626
-Smith: The End of the World (4) http://www.ubersite.com/m/69714
-Smith: The End of the World (5) http://www.ubersite.com/m/69802
=(6)=
Edinburgh Castle was a beacon in the night, aglow with sputtering torches and battery-powered electric lights.
Leech sentries patrolled the ancient structure carrying rifles and wearing night-vision goggles to further enhance their already highly sensitive eyesight, while leech engineers did their nightly wall inspection for everything from explosives and tunnels to ropes and handholds and anti-leech graffiti.
Survivor slaves who were used as food and work force learned that they could survive longer by performing well. These vassals (called 'vessels' by most leeches) secured the perimeter in the daytime and raised the alarm if any Highlanders came near.
The rebel bands of Scots had formed one countrywide union many years ago, and these Highlanders hated the leech slaves as much as they hated the leeches.
The Highlanders called the vassals 'quislings.'
Highlanders who could get beyond the barriers leading to the castle faced a daunting climb up cliffs of raw rock or a dash across the open Esplanade before the castle proper, and either option would leave them susceptible to attacks from their own kind.
The barriers around the old castle included rings of razor wire just outside the castle walls, buried gas jets which could be ignited by tripwires or by levers within the castle, and a great trench holding nubilous waters spotted with the bloated, floating, decomposing corpses of animals and vassals.
The trench encircled the castle, winding west alongside the rail lines from Waverly Station and south across the once green grounds below Princes Street Gardens, cutting east along both lanes of Johnston Terrace and the sheer wall of stone below the castle, and turning north across the end of Castlehill Road. The trench was also where the leeches dumped their slow-to-pass tar-like waste, and bacteria breeding in the rancid feces continued to live and die at a furious rate even as their microcosms sank to the bottom of the trench, fomenting sluggish, foul-smelling bubbles that burbled and blorted along the length and breadth of the churning surface. The end result was turbid waters which were indisputably hazardous to the health of any Scot survivor.
Those who commanded the castle also had a large array of conventional weapons at their disposal, including small arms, heavy machine guns, and rocket launchers.
Few of the Highlanders had guns. They were hard to smuggle onto the island and the leeches confiscated any modern weapons they discovered. Most of the Highlanders carried the weapons of their forefathers, bows, axes, lances and swords.
They felt no shame in these weapons. On the contrary, one of the phrases they used in everyday conversation was an acknowledgment of the finality of seeing a leech lose its head to a blade. If something was beyond any doubt, it was said to be 'as sure as a sword.'
Now, as tatters of cloud obscured a waning moon the color of old bone, three things were as sure as a sword.
The first was this: The man Trina had called out to for help was approaching the castle. She sensed his closeness just as she sensed his sickness, and the many wounds he was bearing.
The second was this: The mysterious stranger who appeared in Lord Daric's dreams and seemed to pose such a threat to his kingdom might be the same man who had been beaten unconscious and was now crossing the east drawbridge in chains, and Daric was assured by his seers that this man would be dead by dawn.
The third was this: The timer in the Lorna Duke was still counting down, and by this time tomorrow night, the bomb would go off.
*
Smith had blasted leeches out of their saddles, one, two, three, four, and was taking aim at a fifth when his chest lurched and he grew light-headed.
One of his guns jammed.
A pistol cracked and Smith felt something hot and fast burrow through the meat of his left thigh.
He dropped to his knees, tossed the jammed revolver, grabbed Pint by her orange ruff and threw her aside, shouting, "Hide!"
Smith saw that what he had at first mistaken for rubble was actually weathered bones scattered along this side of the wall. Lots of them. This appeared to be where the over-the-wall people ended up.
The earth below his knees was shaking. The horses were upon him.
Two more shots and Smith's remaining gun was empty, but all of the leeches who had been carrying firearms were bleeding in the grass or struggling to their feet.
This Lord Daric was a smart one. Using Variant C's to do daylight work.
A sword glimmered and Smith rolled as it swept over him. His heart was still racing, too fast, too irregular. Something was seriously wrong.
Smith got to his feet drawing his own sword, staggering as a man leaped off of his horse and flipped through the air towards Smith like some kind of sideshow acrobat. Unimpressed by such theatrics, Smith skewered the man and lopped off the leech's head.
Five riders remained nearby, circling Smith. Three others were getting to their feet and examining bullet wounds.
"Look at his hair!" one leech shouted. "A patch of white!"
"He's the one!" Another said.
"No," roared a third, "He has both eyes. Lord Daric is looking for a one-eyed man."
"Then we'll take out one of his eyes and reap the reward," the first leech laughed.
Smith looked beyond the men who were climbing out of the saddle. Thirty feet away a little orange shape was scaling a tree and disappearing from sight. His breathing grew tight, and the air turned dark as if the sun were being extinguished.
"Look at 'im," one of the leeches said. "Oy've seen sick 'afore, and this is one 'uman who aren't gwin to last the noight."
"Agreed," said another. "I would not be a bit surprised if his own kind forced him through the wall. Banished him. Of course, blood is blood. Whatever bugs are in his blood can't possibly hurt us."
"I say we take 'im in. 'Ee looks like the one Lord Daric described. One eye or two, I say we take him in."
Smith realized his sword arm was dropping, the tip of the blade touching the earth. The short blade seemed immensely heavy.
The leeches began to argue. Feed on the stranger, or take him in? Smith was pushed and dropped onto his side. He weapons and duffle were taken, and the leeches exclaimed when they looked through his possessions.
"Wot izzit?"
"Daric will want to see this."
"Could be goodies inside. Maybe we don't want Daric to see this?"
The leeches were holding a shining metal rectangle, turning it over, examing every side.
"How do we open this? It's very flat. It can't hold much."
"No 'inges. No lock."
Before Smith had crossed the wall he had followed Keef's instructions and touched an almost insignificant scuff on one corner of the metal box. A panel had closed, hiding the clock that was counting down.
The leeches had no idea they were carrying a bomb.
Smith was thinking that if he just held out a little longer he would get through this, when his heart stopped and he rolled onto his back.
One of the leeches kneeled beside Smith, listened to his chest, and began regular compressions on his sternum.
Harsh leech laughter. "Savin' 'im for Daric?"
"No," the other replied, hearing the human's heart begin beating again. "He may be the only one who can open that box."
Another leech spoke up, shaking an old wristwatch on one thin arm and saying, "Time, gentlemen, please. Let's be out of the sun, lads."
Smith was set into the saddle of the horse ridden by the decapitated leech, and the party set off for the deep shadows of the nearby copse.
The days that followed would be vague memories for Smith.
Nightmares. Moments of lucidity in which he attacked his captors. Spells of weakness in which he trembled like a baby, drooled like a hungry dog, and soaked his clothes in sweat. And darkness. Periods of nothingness. A void which not even Trina's voice could enter.
*
Trina opened her eyes.
She had been dreaming. Smith had been with her, finally. He was smiling, telling her how happy he was that he had finally found her. His neck was torn on one side, and his lifeblood was pumping out of him. She put her fingers over the wound, her hands, feeling his hotness splash her. She started to cry, and Smith raised one wet hand to her cheek and told her everything would be okay.
"Who's there?"
Over the last few days she had made only sporadic contact with Smith. He was terribly ill.
Trina peered into the black corners of her cell and saw a shape. She knew his size, his smell.
"Go away."
Daric stepped forward, his cloak of gray silk rustling. There was a candle burning down the hall, the faintest bar of golden light entering through a small slot high in the cell door. The light was almost nothing, but it was enough for both of them.
"You know why I have come," Daric said.
Trina sat on the edge of her cot. "I will not be your bride, Daric."
Daric fought to keep his face serene.
"You cannot force me."
A sudden rage burned in Daric. He reached out and grabbed a too slender wrist. "You will. You will recognize my authority. You will yield to my need, my desire."
Trina smiled. "No, Daric. I will not. And if you take me by force to get what you want I shall will myself into death. You know I can do that."
Daric looked to the door. They were alone, the guards at the far end of the hall. He went down on his knees.
"Please. I will make you my queen. You will be the matriarch of a new world."
Trina looked away.
Daric stood. "He is dying, my sweet. The man you await. My seers have told me with certainty. He will die shortly after he arrives here... and he is only minutes away."
Trina felt tears welling in her eyes. With sudden sureness she knew Daric was right. "He will save me."
Daric shook his head. "He will be dead by dawn... but you will still be alive. You need to feed, my sweet. You have not eaten for many months."
"Bring me a rat, then, Lord. Surely your kitchens contain one or two?"
"For you, only the sweetest of nourishment," Daric said, opening his cloak. In one arm he was holding a survivor child, a newborn.
The babe's throat had been pierced by a steel needle, the vocal cords destroyed. A common operation where newborn vessels were concerned.
"Drink, Trina," Daric said, offering her the child. "Do not deny what you are. Drink, my sweet."
Trina winced, her insides twisting. She was hungry and she had always been very good at ignoring that particular hunger. Now she wanted the child. Her mouth watered, and she realized her hunger had been set off by her dream, Smith's blood splashing like dark wine, so close to her lips... so close...
Inquisitive young eyes watched her, tried to focus on her. The newborn's respiration was a soft sound, a lace curtain moving in a breath of summer breeze.
"No, Daric, I'm not like you." Trina turned away, closed her eyes. "I have never fed on human beings and I never will."
"You think you are better than me, don't you?" Daric was ashamed of the spite in his voice, his peevish tone, but he could not conceal his feeling.
"You think that because you are the only real and true Variant C that has ever lived, more than the shams who serve me by day and sicken if they try to escape the safety of night, you think that because you are fully capable of walking under the sun and surviving almost any wound and knowing you have a near infinite lifespan ahead of you..."
Daric caught his breath. "Fine, Trina. Live out your life of a thousand years or more. But live it alone. Without the man you have been waiting for. My sentries caught half a dozen prisoners trying to climb the walls today. There will be games in the Esplanade in a few hours. Highlanders against whatever I see fit to send against them. If your Smith is still alive when he crosses the drawbridge I will set him among the rebellious unwashed scum and let him fight his last fight for my entertainment."
A guard appeared at the small port on the door. He whispered, "They have come, my Lord," and stepped away.
"For the last time, Trina," Daric begged. "Come to me willingly. We will birth a dynasty. Our children would be for all time."
Trina looked Daric in the eye, and whispered, "No."
The human infant made a tiny smacking sound with its lips. Daric turned and pushed open the door, tearing off the newborn's head with little effort and upending the child over his mouth like a goblet as he stepped out of the cell.
The door was slammed shut, and locked, and Trina was alone.
*
Smith was upright in the saddle. Considering he way he was feeling, that act was quite a feat, although the chains wrapped around him did offer a stablizing effect. Smith and his leech captors had passed through a few patches of mist as they moved through the city toward the great hill at its center, and the cool moisture on his face had revived him.
Horseshoes clip-clopped over the oak beams of the drawbridge, carrying the small party over a narrow moat of foul-smelling muck. If Smith had been given anything at all to eat in the last few days, it would have come up now.
At the end of the drawbridge was a high chain-link fence, the gate swinging wide. Inside was another high wall, this one of bare wood. A great door opened and they passed into the Esplanade.
He looked up at the castle under the moon and wondered is this was just some final dream before he died.
There was a great open space before the old castle walls, and bleachers had been set up on either side, awaiting an audience.
The ground bore dark patches here and there, and there were rows of high pillars decorated with iron chains. Smith had seen places like this before. Blood. Restraints. A place of death, a theater of the perverse.
"Here I come, Princess," Smith whispered. "Let the games begin."
"Shut yer hole," a leech snapped.
The pommel of a sword struck the back of his head and the moon was no more.
User Reviews
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2008-06-29 16:38:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2005-10-07 19:02:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
killing babies is wrong.
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2005-08-14 22:55:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome as always.
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-07-29 12:36:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
sweet
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-29 12:01:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Today is the day...
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-28 23:03:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Falconer (user info) at 2005-07-28 18:45:28 (#)
Ranking: 2
Love this series, keep it up man.
--
I'm writing the next installment!
Don't interupt me while I'm killing Smith!
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-07-28 21:21:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Only 10 reviews?
I'm not having that.
Submitted by Falconer (user info) at 2005-07-28 18:45:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Love this series, keep it up man.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-28 13:16:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Bayley (user info) at 2005-07-28 10:32:49 (#)
Ranking: 2
Yay! Can't wait for the next one!!!
--
Working on it...
Submitted by Bayley (user info) at 2005-07-28 10:32:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yay! Can't wait for the next one!!!
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-07-27 22:58:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
my nigga.
i swear...when i went to the movies tonight, i saw a preview for something, and the first thing i thought was "this could be the preview for ATP"
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-07-27 21:44:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The human infant made a tiny smacking sound with its lips. Daric turned and pushed open the door, tearing off the newborn's head with little effort and upending the child over his mouth like a goblet as he stepped out of the cell.
**************************
Jeebus. Nice imagery.
By 'nice' I of course mean 'nauseating and creepy.'
I need to re-read this series. I'm not 100% sure what's going on anymore.
Awesome stuff Jack.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-27 18:02:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by horse87 (user info) at 2005-07-27 17:39:46 (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent...
"... and a great trench holding nubilous waters spotted with the bloated, floating, decomposing corpses of animals and vassals.."
Is 'nubilous' actually a word?
--
nubilous
Nubilose \Nu"bi*lose`\, Nubilous \Nu"bi*lous\, a. [L. nubilosus, nubilus, fr. nubes cloud.] Cloudy. [R.]
--
What, you think I make this shit up as I go along?
Submitted by horse87 (user info) at 2005-07-27 17:39:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent...
"... and a great trench holding nubilous waters spotted with the bloated, floating, decomposing corpses of animals and vassals.."
Is 'nubilous' actually a word?
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-07-27 17:07:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
yikes!
Submitted by spedmonkey (user info) at 2005-07-27 17:00:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-27 16:52:28 (#)
Ranking: 0
Boy, it looks like Smith is gonna die after all.
-----------------------
That made me laugh.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-27 16:52:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Boy, it looks like Smith is gonna die after all.