Safe: Chapter Four

By Luke Echterling and Natalie Peters

©Luke Echterling

Warmth began spreading through Wiley’s body and he felt his limbs floating in space. A pinch of pain in his left pinky toe and a raw patch of itchy skin on his hip eventually clawed through the numbness, pulling him awake. He opened his eyes but could only see soft white light. There must be something over them. He rolled his tongue around in his dry mouth. It tasted bitter. Memories of the past few years swam through his mind kicking up unendurable pain he wanted to kill. 

His mother was dead.

His  father was dead. 

He was alone. 

He was underground.

He accepted these facts.

 Everything here was synthetic. Days were illuminated by artificial light, brighter in the daytime, dimmed to simulate night time. Nothing felt real. 

The last real smile he remembered was his mother’s. He held it tight in his mind and let it settle a little deeper to keep it from fading away. 

He closed his eyes and forced himself to  breathe in deeply, then exhale slowly. He spoke his mantra in a calm voice, “Stay useful.” It was a simple thing. So short it could be said in one breath, easily repeated over and over again to help him master his autonomic nervous system. It didn’t take much to set his fight-or-flight response off. He knew his eyes were dilated and the uncontrollable shaking in his hands was the result of adrenaline, every muscle in his body ready for a fight. He focused on the mantra while feeling his heartbeat and breathing stabilize. 

Stay useful he told himself repeatedly. 

Safe: Chapter Five

“Politics are boring,” Isabella whispered as the mountainside flew past her window. Muted green grass and sickly hued trees sped into a canvas of worry. She felt her hand enveloped in a warm fist, sure and safe. Her father smiled at her comfortingly. 

“You will be back at your lab in no time.” Brutus kissed the crown of her head. 

She smiled and sighed.

Outside, dusty green gave way to an entrance cut into the side of the mountain. Their vehicle pulled into the line of cars entering its cavernous mouth. Smooth polished walls swallowed them as they drove deeper into the mountain. Finally they all parked in a tight arc around another door that spilled a long red carpet from its mouth like a forked tongue. 

Isabella shuddered. Her parents built these structures they called Safes, but to her it felt like she had been swallowed into the belly of a beast. Once more she glanced at her parents. 

“You’ll be fine,” Rue chuckled. 

Isabella sniffed the air as they were escorted from the car. “It smells like doom,” she said desolately.

“Iz, these Safes are not dangerous. There’s no need to be afraid,” her mother assured her, patting her cheek gently.

They were escorted into a large main chamber, just one of many bunker rooms in the honeycomb labyrinth hollowed out of the mountain. Brutus had already accompanied his wife on several trips to oversee the construction of this Safe, the new UN Geneva Headquarters of the United Nations. Building it proved they could deliver what they promised: one month, one Safe, one city underground that could be infinitely self-sustaining. This new symbiotic design of pairing traditional bunker architecture with the blessings of subterranean ecosystems was working marvelously.

What he and his wife had been able to achieve was nothing short of miraculous. Together they had designed the mining technology, sketched the plans for the Safes, and orchestrated a chaotic mob into a symphonic ordering of productivity. And yet, although they pulled their genius together to work nonstop against the collapsing destruction of society, their efforts still appeared weak and inadequate. It seemed the whole world outside of Brutus and Rue’s efforts grasped only for itself.

Above ground, monsoons of dark rain occasionally swept the land with acidic ash it brought down from the stratosphere. Between the pock marks and scabbed wastelands a tough and weedy nature still faced the ravages of sun and survivors each day. Death lurked in the shadows of the surface.

Isabella stared in awe at the deep, underground structure that her mother and father had created. This place of wonder teemed with people all talking at once. Milky white light floated down like a cloud. In the center of the room behind a large, raised stage with red carpet sat a giant mining machine. Everything in the massive cavern was dwarfed by the long silver body and terrifying teeth used to grind rocks into dust.

A capricious clash of colors moved around Isabella. She allowed individual bodies around her to blur as she focused on the high ceilings. She closed her eyes and listened for a moment. Conversations flowed around her like water that she could not grasp. 

“Brutus!”

A random cry from the crowd startled her. Opening her her eyes, Isabella saw her father turn to shake hands with a man, but his smile was not real. It was not like the ones he gave her. 

This was the first internationally broadcast event since the war. Cameras lined the walls, capturing the historic UN meeting that was being eagerly watched by millions. A scared populace prayed this “Preservation Act” between Stilos and the United Nations would spur the long and seemingly impossible road to recovery.  

Brutus could feel them out there, millions of starving, hurting people holding onto scraps of faith against the harsh life of catastrophe. But the people around him weren’t thinking about that. They were absorbed with themselves, busy enjoying their elite positions. The thought saddened him as he worked his way through the greeting line. A flash on Rue’s gown caught his attention. Looking her way, his eyes met hers. She knew his thoughts immediately. Without missing a heartbeat she slid beside him, placed her hand into his and smiled. 

“We aren’t working for these people,” she whispered as she leaned into his ear. “We’re working for the ones out there, the ones who need us. Be strong. Be bold for them.”

“You know I hate politics,” Brutus grumbled as he kissed her cheek. 

Her eyes crinkled as she grinned. “What? How could I possibly know?” Winking at him tenderly she continued, “It’s just a means to and end, Love. It’ll be over soon.”

He nodded, eternally grateful for her love and wisdom. 

“And please, don’t let anyone know how you feel.” Rue moved on and Brutus continued shaking hands with sycophants. These were the west’s powerful elite, all hoping to find a way to benefit from their connection to him. He made his way down the path disgusted by the politics of it all. As long as people lived and breathed, politics would continue to exist like an unkillable parasite.  

They cleared the last of the VIP guests and were escorted towards the podiums dwarfed by the mining machine looming over it. 

Brutus  didn’t think they needed to fool with the United Nations just because they had claimed power. He had no use for them. But Rue had insisted. She had been a powerful figure at the World Health Organization in Geneva before he met her. And as her career progressed she had collaborated extensively with America’s Peace Corps, assisting the United Nations in countless operations seeking peace and reconciliation. She couldn’t help herself. She lived to bring healing and peace to communities. She simply liked bringing people together. 

There was the compromise that Brutus found with his wife. He did not agree in working so closely with the UN, but he could not argue with their might and access to resources. As with all things in his business, Brutus preferred his own pace and his own way, but in this new and terrifying environment he was here, agreeing to cooperate with the United Nations. Massive projects required patience to avoid strained relationships. Brutus just hoped the ego of the UN leadership would stay out of his way. So here he was, working with an organization he felt failed more than not, but as he turned to his wife she smiled brilliantly at him now, and Brutus knew he would do anything for her.  

The sea of people parted to each side as the Stilos family passed through, waves of excitement following in their wake. As they approached the stage Isabella looked up to see two boys standing next to each other. Well dressed and carefully groomed, they appeared to be only a few years older than herself. They were nearly identical, lean and a little tall for their age. One boy had blond hair, neatly combed and parted. His eyes also followed Brutus and his wife as they approached but his mouth curled into a distasteful frown. The other boy had dark, close-cut hair gelled strictly into place. His features were sharp and pleasant, or perhaps they would have been if he smiled. He managed to look menacing, miserable, and lonely all at the same time. Isabella could see they hated being there too. 

The Stilos family drew closer to the stage. Isabella was fascinated by the boys like they were specimens at the zoo, a pair of tigers in a cage. The dark haired boy fidgeted and then stood rigidly upright, immobilized by his father as he gripped the back of his neck in a tightening vise. His pale face flushed. He was used to this punishment, Isabella could tell. But his furious eyes still seethed. His bitter, condemning glare swept around the room unnoticed, seemingly invisible to everyone. No one else seemed to see, no one reacted to the hateful, loathing glower that razed the room. Then he turned his gaze to her. 

Isabella regarded him with wide eyes. He realized she had noticed it all. It gave him pause for a moment, then his eyes narrowed. And in his expression, all he felt was focused suddenly and entirely on her. 

The boy’s glare was almost unbearable. Isabella’s body was rigid with guilt. But what had she ever done to the boy? Nothing. The vitriolic loathing he focused on her wasn’t fair. Boys were just dumb. 

Her observations were interrupted when her mother motioned for her. “Iz, please follow Svetlana to your seat in the audience. She’ll keep watch over you while we’re up there.” They hugged tightly before Isabella turned to follow the aid. “Don’t forget to shoot me some smiles to keep me calm up there,” Rue called after her.

Thankful to be distracted, Isabella turned, smiling confidently. “The biggest. You get the biggest ones I’ve got.”

Looking again for Brutus, Rue realized quickly as they moved towards the stage that her husband’s fierce expression had someone in its crosshairs. This was not good. She also noticed his hand was clenched in a fist. Rue glided her way up in front of her husband to distract him. Politely embracing the United Nations Secretary General and his uncomfortable son, she felt like she was the only one smiling. 

Secretary General Alestir Barrin’s facade was coldly polite. His hand dropped from his boy’s neck as an aide whisked the kid away. He barely noticed Rue as he shook her hand with two short, curt pumps. His performance was a protocol of efficient etiquette. The absolute minimum required.

Alestir briskly turned from Rue and approached Brutus, plush carpet barely sinking under his light steps. As they shook hands the United Nations Secretary General pulled Brutus close. “Brutus Stilos, “The Savior of Europe”. So nice of you to grace us with your presence.” His smile twitched..

“Secretary General,” Brutus caught himself before he growled, sensing Rue in his periphery. “I trust the mistakes in America will not continue under your new administration.”  

Alestir sniffed. “Some people refuse to listen to reason and stop their destructive behavior,” he regarded Brutus pointedly. “Perhaps proud attitudes will change in time.” 

“Perhaps their attitude has a purpose.”

“Their attitude has turned the American Dream into a nightmare.”

“It wasn’t their attitude that did that.”

“No. It was Simon, the AI that did it. As a result, it’s America that bears the blame for World War III. But who programmed Simon in the first place, I wonder?” Alestir’s smooth facade barely covered his crackling fury. 

“The UN voted unanimously to ban artificial intelligence and classified “cognitive” AI as weapons of mass destruction. But now you’re suggesting that the responsible party is actually someone particular. Someone, perhaps, who let their egotistical machinations run away with them.” Brutus was pleased to see Alestir’s face tighten in the center as though pulled by a drawstring. Rue was horrified.

“Your Excellence,” Rue flattered the posh man, “the relationship between Safes, or any non-government organization and the UN has always been delicate, but you know my husband and I didn’t approve when America was established as a UN Protectorate.”

“It’s essentially martial law enforced by the UN,” Brutus said flatly.

“Although the Russians and Chinese have aligned themselves against the United Nations, which is all that remains of the western world, we must continue to seek common ground,” Rue added diplomatically. 

“Common ground was plowed over by a war,” Alestir said bluntly. “America’s military gathered itself up to restore order, but without the UN’s direct involvement her homeland will continue to flounder, which is why your Safes are needed to tilt the shift of global power in our favor. The UN has learned quite a lot over the past year. Your digging machines, the Torches,” Alestir waved his hand toward the massive machine glinting in the light, “those magnificent automations are to our future what the locomotive was to our past.”

“And where, exactly, do you expect them to take us?” Brutus said pugnaciously.

“Secretary General,” Rue said in a conciliatory tone, “our goal is to preserve the human race so that it may someday emerge from the shadows and return to the light.”

“Yes, Safes are needed for preservation. But I see a somewhat different future. In order for our descendents to survive, duplication will be necessary.” 

Brutus raised his eyebrows. “You mean clones. You still think clones are the future?”

Alestir’s smile was barely tolerant. “Naturally. Tailor-made clones - the pilot colony being developed on Mars is just a start. But no matter. Today we celebrate our union. Whatever disagreements there are between us, we will overcome. And we will survive.”

“Survival,” Brutus said hauntingly. Rue watched the tick above his left eye signaling the rage condensing in his eyes. She could see he didn’t like Alestir but knew he had to show outward respect. 

Brutus saw through the politics. Everyone who had participated in the phony trial of America was now an office holder, no election, no democratic process. Positions in power had been handed out behind closed doors. He knew “monitored recovery” was a cheap price to pay for America’s government and the subjection of other sovereign powers. 

“For someone who seeks survival there certainly has been a lot of blood,” Brutus stated. “After numerous attempts to contain the refugees in America, the final failure of the UN culminated with the infamous ‘Welcome Camps’ set up overnight in open-air lots.”

“Dear,” Rue cooed, placing a warning hand on his arm. He ignored it.

“They filled to capacity within hours with shivering, exhausted families arriving with hungry faces and downcast eyes. They carried small children and few possessions between intertwined arms locked together with knotted, numb fingers.”

“Look, we can discuss this later, if you like,” Alestir said smoothly, looking around the room with a hint of nervousness. Brutus was undeterred.  

“With them arrived an overpowering stench of hot sulphur and hot bodies. The road they traveled to ‘survival’ was littered with scorch marks and skeletons. Black rain from a carbon sky covered them in radioactive haze. Without proper supervision the camps quickly devolved into cesspools of chaos. Even the great UN Secretary General Alestir Barrin knew they couldn’t succeed without our help.” Brutus stopped and smiled unpleasantly. “Didn’t his Excellency?”

Alestir Barrin was at a loss for words. A skilled politician, he would never discuss unsavory topics in public. His expression remained generically bland. From a distance he appeared to be enjoying himself. He was not. 

Rue could hardly bear the tension between the men. She searched the audience and, just when she needed it most, her daughter’s smile radiated from across the space between them. 

“All they want is safety,” Brutus said tightly. “And all we offer them are hollow words.” 

“Brutus-now is not the ti-”

“They wanted safety, Secretary General Barrin. They wanted survival. And I intend to give that to them.”

Alestir Barrin’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds noble, but we’re running out of time. The human race is rapidly headed for extinction. We need to tailor our future to beat the odds.” A smug little smile. “Alas, sir you already knew this years ago-did you not?”

“Yes.” Brutus deflected the statement with a parry. “However, you speak of abandoning survivors to create a failed solution. We don’t agree with that. We won’t abandon survivors - even if we have to burrow into the earth for a thousand years.” 

Rue nodded, but gave her husband a stern warning flash with her eyes. Brutus reached out and gripped Alestir’s hand to signify the end of their private exchange under the guise of pleasantries. “We will save the world - with or without your help.”

Isabella daydreamed about chocolate as the room around her became quiet. She played a game in her mind - which one could she live without? Chocolate or Robots. Chocolate? No. Robots? Absolutely not! Robots were better. Robots were definitely better than chocolate.

The sounds in the room were nothing like her robots. Iz studied her parents’ giant mining robot in front of them while she listened to the small humans that buzzed around it, all of them fussing over little details. Looking around, she saw that all the chairs were taken except for the two next to hers. But many older people who looked important had packed the space around the chairs, standing room only. Isabella suddenly felt lucky that she had a comfortable chair. So many in this room were standing. And they must have been here for hours already. 

Isabella smoothed back her hair behind her ears and stood up to look around. Surely there was someone older who needed to sit down. 

“Ms. Stilos, please sit.” A security man moved toward her like a cat through the aisles of chairs. “Sit,” he insisted. The giant’s hand was firm, yet gentle as she sank back into the chair. 

“But there must be someone who needs these chairs,” Isabella protested.

“No one is sitting in my chair,” A defiant voice said from the aisle. She turned and saw the dark haired boy tailed by the blond one.

He turned quickly on his heel and pushed his way down the row like the world belonged to him. Plopping into the chair next to her he forced his brother to climb past both of them. In an awkward shuffle the blond boy moved past them both. As he moved past Isabella he introduced himself in a voice barely audible. “I’m Calumn. That’s my brother Jaxon.” 

Jaxon crossed his arms over his chest. “This chair is mine.”

Isabella shifted uncomfortably away from the boy. The arms of the chair were open, allowing him to cross a leg and stuff his foot through the opening into her space. Smiling, Jaxon turned to her. “My father said I could take California.”

Isabella arched an eyebrow and looked around for the large security guard. He had moved on and left them alone. “What?”

Jaxon chortled. “Just like it sounds. He said he will give it to me.”

“Well,” Isabella chose her words carefully. “Most of it is gone, I think.”

His eyes drooped like he was speaking to a toddler. “Not the surface, Stupid. Nobody wants the surface. The underground. When your mother and father finally get it done my father is going to give it to me.”

This was too much. Isabella tightened her face and squinted her eyes. “My mom and dad won’t let him.”

Calumn snorted. 

Jaxon’s cheeks flushed. No one dared talk to him this way. The room burst into applause, causing Isabella to flinch. Jaxon noticed and smiled smugly. Then he gestured toward the stage where their parents were now being greeted. A wicked smirk spread across his bloodless lips. He leaned over and said, just loud enough for her to hear, “Your mom and dad will be long gone by then.”

She looked at him sharply but could say nothing. The crowd had quieted, the ceremony was beginning. This boy next to her was too obnoxious for words anyway. Isabella leaned forward and whispered across Jaxon to his brother. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Calumn.” 

The blond boy nodded distantly. 

Murmuring voices behind her tossed snippets of private conversation. “...balance of power will shift to Stilos.”

“The world is saved.”

“...UN is doomed.”

Onstage, the giant ledger was displayed on a pulpit while signatures were scrawled on its pages. Watching her father scribble his name, Isabella gasped as a sharp pain pierced her leg. 

Isabella snapped her head to her left where Jaxon sat looking unnaturally peaceful.  She realized he had pinched her.

Her glare bore into the side of the boy’s head. He sat stock still, staring at the stage, a picture of unconvincing innocence. Calumn was unaware or unconcerned, Isabella couldn’t tell.

“Don’t,” she warned. She looked back to her father.

“I didn’t do anything,” Jaxon whispered harshly. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”

PINCH.

Hot, livid fury coursed through her. Her hand barely missed slapping his away. Her thigh burned. She looked around. No one noticed. They were watching her father. The crowd was entranced by his booming voice as he began to address the crowd. 

PINCH.

Slap.

She just grazed his sweaty hand. 

Isabella looked up to her father. She smiled, but it was forced and nervous. The man onstage did not look like her father. His smile was different. There was a glow around him, but she quickly brushed this off as her own anger making her eyes play tricks. 

PINCH.

Smack.

This time she caught his hand as he pulled it away. It was loud enough to draw attention - a few irritable glances. Calumn shifted uncomfortably and leaned over to issue a quiet, stern warning to his brother. An aide sitting close by patted Jaxon on the leg and whispered in his ear. Everything settled and Isabella began to relax.

PINCH. 

Isabella nearly shouted in pain. No one had noticed the sneak attack. Her mother’s attention was directed at her father. The audience burst into applause. He must have said something they liked.  She tried to catch her father’s attention, to make him notice her alone in the crowd. 

Instead of her father, she locked eyes with Jaxon’s father, the tall thin man. His cold eyes stared right through her. 

PINCH. 

Isabella felt white hot rage for an instant before she realized she would have to take care of this herself. Alone. She would be ready next time he tried to pinch her. 

And he was going to pay. 

Brutus’s demeanor had changed when he stepped into the spotlight at the podium. He looked up at the crowd and into the camera feeding his image to millions. That’s when he knew that everyone alive depended on him, every single soul looked to him for guidance and placed their hope in him. Flanked by Alestir and Rue, Brutus soaked up the adoration. The rush of the moment was overwhelming and electric. This was not politics, this was power. Every pore of his body felt regenerated and new. Intoxicated bliss threatened to overcome him. 

Memories of this moment stamped themselves in succession on the atoms in his brain. Other atoms, caught like threads coming loose, unraveled horrible memories of an abandoned child, sobering his triumph. His face nearly crumbled in front of the unblinking camera. Immediately he clenched his jaw, setting his expression into a firm and resolute rivet. He had learned long ago that keeping a stoic face was safe. Emotions were dangers that clouded judgement. He felt heavy waves of madness crash against his stony facade, threatening to break through. 

He was smiling now, but it was at this moment that he began to glower inside, deep within himself. He worried that the lunacy in his mind would seep into his soul like pitch to fire. A fire that could consume everything if he was not vigilant. 

His vision fixed on a horizon unseen by anyone except himself. Under the spotlight in the adulation of millions, he was reborn a savior.

Just before his fingers met her bruised thigh, Isabella caught his right hand. She leveraged her fingers under his palm and dug her thumb between the bones of his hand. In an instant she twisted as hard as she could without making a rustle or a sound. In the small space between them she heard a meaty pop and felt his wrist go limp. The sound of a pained exhale like a weak balloon rushed past her face. In the corner of her eye she saw Jaxon’s face completely red and his eyes screwed shut against the pain. 

He opened them wide for an instant and glared at her fiercely before he pulled his hand into his lap, cradling it with care. A smile crept across Calumn’s lips. The crowd around them was brought to their feet, applauding and cheering for her father as he looked out over the jubilant crowd. 

He didn’t notice his daughter’s broad, victorious smile. 

Safe: Chapter Six

Alestir Barrin wasn’t quite awake yet but he could feel her watching him. He knew it was Sami Van Dam because he couldn’t escape her obnoxious perfume. He hung onto sleep desperately. But she could sense his stirring consciousness like a beast of prey. Sami prodded him, tapping his wrist with her long, spiky nail. Realizing avoidance was useless, he slowly opened his eyes. Looking out the window of the jet hovering above the earth, his vision began to focus. 

 From space the view was sickening.  It was a fascinating post-apocalyptic landscape teeming with swirls of colors, clouds floating above massive craters and scorched landscape. The North American Atlantic coastline was a marshy wasteland. When the flooding receded, it had left behind muddy brown waste. This had eventually filled in with swampy green marshes. The horizon bode nothing better. A desert sprawled across eastern Colorado and western Kansas that looked like a sandbox, void of life and void of hope. 

“I can’t take it anymore. Something must be done.” Sami’s voice was as irritating as her fragrance. 

“Ah, yes. The Brutus problem.” Alestir responded politely, his clipped British accent genteelly masking his disgust. He rubbed the long bridge of his nose with slim fingers meticulously maintained. “The public made his attendance on this trip to America necessary. They demanded him.”

“But -” 

“You’re still promised the Presidency, are you not?” He turned abruptly to look at Sami. The makeup she wore to cover extensive scarring was thickly layered over her face and neck. Heavy lipstick and eye makeup in tastelessly vibrant colors completed her mask. Her crystal blue eyes regarded him imploringly. “You are the one who will take control of the country,” Alestir reminded her. He squeezed her hand, sliding her long sharp nails away from him.

Heavy blue lids dropped like window shades as her eyes narrowed. She jerked her hand away. “America is mine, Alestir. Brutus will not waltz into the worst parts of my country and proclaim himself their savior. That is my right.” Her makeup moved like a mask while she spoke and her voice deepened as she whispered close, “Tell me you have a plan. You can’t deny he’s made the UN furious with his cavalier attitude.”

Alestir turned back to his window over the damaged world. This time his eyes saw only his reflection. Gray hair hair flecked his temples. His dark eyes were still bright, but the corners began to show wear from furrowing. 

“Well?!” Sami rasped. She was relentless. 

“Four years,” Alestir sighed as he reached to pull a glass from the console. “Four unlucky years since the war. Two since we were coerced by a weakened UN council to sign the Preservation Act and join forces with the Stilos and their self branded Stoics. ” Opening an ice maker built into the wall of the jet, Alestir deliberately removed four perfectly square ice cubes. Then he withdrew a crystal decanter of whiskey from a lighted case and poured his drink with precision. He drew back his head, emptying the glass down his lean, clean-shaven throat. 

“What are you going to do about Brutus? What if he fails to comply?” Sami persisted. 

Ice tinkled before settling like pieces of amber in the tumbler. Alestir slowly refilled his glass with brown liquid. “He already failed to comply,” he told Sami flatly. He drank his second glass deeply. “Yes. We have a plan in motion.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

Alestir glanced down the corridor of the airplane before looking back at Sami. “It involves Rainbow.”

The foundation of her face nearly cracked with her smile as she relaxed into her seat.

“Fabulous.”

The jet hovered gently at the pinnacle of its arc in the uppermost reaches of the atmosphere. Ice formed from the nuclear winter spread across Canada and pushed down across the pacific northwest. It glared orange in the sun as Brutus began their descent. He rubbed his long jaw and watched the pilot from the corner of his eye. 

“You know, I CAN handle this,” the pilot told Brutus.

“Yes, I know,” Brutus said with a half smile. “I just needed a break from the circus in the cabin.” He jabbed his thumb toward the cockpit door. On the other side Alestir and Sami Van Dam were probably using their time away from him to plan how they would keep him out of the spotlight. 

The pilot wore his cap tilted back on his head. He stroked his dark, neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully. “May I ask you something?” He leaned forward in his seat, taking off his cap to rub his hand across his head. 

“Of course.” Brutus looked up from the gauges monitoring his private jet, perfectly capable of flying itself. 

“Why are you going to one of the worst places on the planet?” he asked carefully. “They don’t even have Safes yet.” 

Soft light from the control panels lit Brutus from below, giving his face a haunted glow. A single electronic chime broke his thoughts. 

“Life.” Brutus said simply, his eyes lost somewhere in the stars. 

Another chime chirped politely.

“Mind your trajectory. If we overshoot we’ll end up in Texas,” the pilot said calmly.

Brutus adjusted their position. Watching the Gulf rapidly approaching, they slowed above the tail of Louisiana. Both sat in silence as the land rushed toward them in smeared watercolors. A great shining lake appeared next to a city that seemed to absorb light. 

The small wings of the jet wobbled slightly as it landed on the tight fit of the thirty-five foot wide causeway still spanning Lake Pontchartrain in the Protectorate State of Louisiana. 

After the jet settled Brutus turned to the pilot. 

“I need to see exactly what we’re up against here.”

The long, concrete bridge was swept clean by a warm wind carrying the rich scent of surrounding swamp waters. Lightly used and affording expansive views in all directions, it would provide a safe landing zone and line of departure. 

Van Dam was the first to unbuckle. Masculine face thickly powdered and bland features dominated by heavy blue eyeshadow that made her eyelids look like a garish doll, she armed her way through the security detail while pointing out the windows of the cabin. With a toothy grin that revealed a smudge of lipstick across her incisors she said, “I told you they would be on time,” to no one in particular. Her crooked finger pointed to the brown, green, and gray camouflage UN military fighting vehicles (MFVs) parked outside, waiting to escort them into the city. 

The security team onboard immediately took control. They withdrew weapons hidden in large cases and donned body armor. After securing their own they turned to the three representatives from the UN. They locked chest plates and helmets onto them, Sami fussing loudly as she was impatiently manhandled into her armor. 

After the VIPs were outfitted and inspected for safety, a large man with dark skin, shoulders that framed doors, and a face that could stop a shovel stood before the exit. His voice boomed, “You will call me Green. You will listen to me and you will do exactly as I say. You’re goin’ into a hot zone. I ain’t playin’. Things here turn deadly faster than sound travels. So you gonna stay nice and tight to your buddies...the ones with the guns. You get what I’m sayin’? Stay close to your protection and do what they say...which is exactly what I say.” 

Green’s fierce gaze bored into each one of the diplomats in turn. “We good?” He waited for their obedient nods, making sure they all responded. Then he gestured to Alestir, who raised an uncharacteristically meek half hand. Green gave Alestir a nod to proceed while he adjusted his load-bearing equipment. 

Alestir turned to Brutus. “Mr. Stilos, you know I didn’t think your presence on this visit was warranted, but you’re about to see for yourself exactly what America has become and what measures would be required here.”

“But I will decide when to build Safes here, and that time hasn’t come yet,” Sami sneered at Brutus in a harsh voice laced with bad breath. She glared at him boldly with condescending disgust. 

Brutus had never wanted to punch a woman so badly. He averted his gaze and found Alestir regarding him coldly. 

“Ms. Van Dam,” Brutus said tensely, his face reddening with rage as he faced her, “you, of all people, should know that Safes need to be built in the United States before there’s nothing left of your people.”

Sami stepped forward and slapped him. His head whipped to the right, his face marked with a bright white handprint. Brutus was barely holding it together. His pupils were narrowing to pinpoints, his teeth gritting. 

Rubbing his cheek slowly  he turned to face her. Pushing at his resolve, his molten core begged to be released. She looked up into fierce blue eyes that glinted like defiant ice in the face of the sun. 

What she saw there terrified her. There was a depth of experience and perception in his eyes that she struggled to grasp. Sami Van Dam wasn’t accustomed to anything except superficialities and shallow, self-serving agendas. But the eyes of Brutus Stilos seemed to see right through her, seering her soul and her conscience. Her mind fumbled as it struggled to regain a foothold. She didn’t like this feeling. 

Sami cleared her mind and quickly reviewed the plan, the one Alestir had outlined for her. Coming back to herself, she met Brutus’s furious gaze levelly. “I am going to be the President of this country. It is my voice that will be heard. Not yours.”

“You can’t prevent me from speaking. Let the people decide for themselves.”

“No!” Sami’s cake-makeup was beginning to crack. “The assembly and the Secretary General all agree, the United States is mine.”

Green had enough. “Best clear your heads and focus, or you might not make it back.” He shot a glare at Alestir. “Let’s roll. Talk enroute if you want...but frankly, it would be better for your minds to focus on the task ahead.”

Sami huffed condescendingly. Turning on her heel she exited the plane without looking at Brutus again.

“Listen Up!” Green’s voice boomed with authority. He turned to address the seventeen NCOs and officers waiting in a semi circle around the the armored command vehicle. 

“Alright, ya’ll. Here’s the plan. Ingress and primary egress is this causeway. Secondary egress by river. Navy swift boats are secondary egress set to secure the coordinates 29.9509 N/90.0632 W. At the Mississippi pickup is an old park - I’m not a fan of this plan ‘cause we gotta drop the MFVs. Listen up now, dammit! Quit chattering! Alpha team, you’ve got Van Dam. Bravo, you’ve got Secretary General Barrin. And Charlie team, we’ve got Stilos. Four FASE bodyguards per VIP and standard ROE applies for this zone. Do not fire unless fired upon.” 

Green stooped to pick up a bag of gear. He shouldered it and then added, “Or unless I tell ya’ll to let ‘em have it.”

Brutus fastened  himself into and out of the seat harness, practicing in case he needed to remove it quickly. Sami and Alestir watched him out of the corners of their eyes while FASE soldiers filled the other seats. Everyone was cramped in the MFVs, crowded with equipment and operators. Green reached to tighten Brutus’s five strap harness to his body armor. Brutus stopped him. “I want to remove this body armor before I meet Mamba. It looks hostile.” 

Green studied Brutus’ face with steel eyes. “I can’t allow that, you’ll get yourself killed.” 

“We won’t be safe?” Brutus asked.

“No, but nothin’ ever really is.” Green smiled, flashing his bright teeth. He inhaled deeply and considered for a moment. “How ‘bout I fit you so’s your armor is concealed?” Green tugged at the red shirt and sturdy pants to make sure they would be large enough to cover the armor without giving away the outline. 

“Sure,” Brutus accepted. 

As Brutus pulled his shirt back on over the re-adjusted armour, the corner of Green’s mouth lifted in a half grin. “Don’t like wearing suits, do ya?” he commented.

Brutus smiled. He tucked his shirt into his pants. “I don’t like being uncomfortable. Or hot.”

Green leaned back into his chair and keyed the microphone, “Charlie Actual to all units: move out.” Replacing the microphone, he winked at Brutus. “It’s the humidity that’ll kill ya. Not the heat.”

Throaty roars of engines mixed with metallic rattling as the line of seven MFV’s started for the city. Kicking up a dust storm of dirt and dried leaves, the heavily armored vehicles left a trail of swirling brown as they sped along the causeway over the lapping waves of New Orleans’s swampy lake. FASE security operators silently finished buckling the VIPs into carbon-mesh seats. The large interior reminded Brutus of school buses, but with the seats lined along the walls.

With rich, heavy air rushing through the turrets as they picked up speed, Brutus watched the sprawling lake beneath the seemingly endless bridge give way to scraps of swamp occupied by strange creatures. 

As they reached the halfway point the causeway became more cluttered. There were junked autos and machinery abandoned along the road. Hollowed out, rotted buildings loomed, teeming with nature reclaiming its space. He only spied a few people, either off in the distance walking in pairs or in boats on massive open areas of water in the swamp. He thought deeply about the present devastation and the future he visualized. It aggravated him that pointless obstacles stood in his way. 

Brutus looked over at Alestir and Sami. He couldn’t hear them over the roar of the vehicle but he could see them lost in furious discussion. As he watched he realized it was Sami talking furiously to a patient Alestir. Imbeciles, he breathed to himself while tapping his fingers on his thighs. The MFV rolled up and over what sounded like cars being crushed by its heavy frame. 

Brutus heard MFV commanders talking to their drivers and gunners through blaring vehicle speakers. 

“Check PAL left. No, the pile of cars - stay right. YOUR OTHER RIGHT.”

“Back off Sanji, too close to 4.”

“Widen gaps, dammit!”

“Just fucking go over it then!”

Brutus looked out of a firing port over his shoulder and watched a shirtless young boy with darkly tanned skin running through the weeds. He was pointing at them with a pair of fingers. His sounds couldn’t pierce the armor or the rumble of the vehicle, but Brutus could make out the words he mouthed with synchronized jerks of his hand as he ran: Bang! Bang! 

Safe: Chapter Seven

Black smoke appeared in the distance. Noticeably more alert, Green keyed the mic. “All units, approaching city limits. 360 visibility at all times, maintain a staggered formation.”

At the mouth of the causeway the MFVs crushed through a tapestry of vines, rotted trash, and multicolored plastic jettisoned by the city. They slowed to a stop at the first checkpoint. Before them stood a huge bunker constructed with old tires cemented together by compacted dirt. It held dozens of men with automatic rifles and rockets. Peeking over the edge of the roof were a pair of snipers lying beneath a tarp that covered them from the harsh sun. After a brief pause, the MFVs were waved through. Two old semi trailers were drawn aside by a pulley system, allowing them to pass. They continued on their journey towards the city center. Armed spectators spilled into the streets to watch this unusual parade of UN MFVs. 

Their meeting was to take place at the old football sports stadium under the gleaming skull-colored dome. On the final approach to the target, the overpass on a highway raised above the city gave a clear view of the skyline. Buildings were painted in bright colors, layer upon layer covering a multitude of flood water stains. Sturdy, hand-crafted window shutters were thrown open to let light into homes. Buildings with patched finish work eroded by weather and wounds of old wars were a testament to the city’s colorful past. 

In contrast to the masticating decay of the city, the cemeteries below the main entrance were carefully maintained. Vines and shrubbery were all trimmed, the rows of tombs neatly swept. It presented an eerie juxtaposition. 

Green keyed the mic again, “Listen up! I prefer we leave the same way we came. But alternate egress is at the river, ten blocks northeast of St. Louis street and twelve blocks southeast of the landing zone. Shit goes south, we gotta cover a mile without drones so make sure you’ve memorized your little jog to them pretty boats!!” Heads nodded in affirmation.

The tattooed face of the stadium appeared before Brutus like an ancient colosseum, terrifying and strongly redolent of the surface of his homeland. He noticed the muddy gutters of the road contained pink flowers with small buds. Beneath them proliferated clusters of small mushrooms with tiny white caps. 

Through the portal he watched mobs of people in the streets. A kaleidoscope of skin colors moved aside for the seven passing MFVs. Standing aside they leered fiercely, clutching weapons pointed at the procession of armored UN vehicles. The vehicles were directed through guarded gates and guided up to an area around the main entrance of the stadium cordoned off by guards and barriers made from rubble and barbed wire. 

“All platoons set protective posture ‘round MFVs. Alpha, Bravo teams escort VIPs. Confirm now,” Green instructed.

The radio chirped the platoon leaders’ confirmation. Four MFVs lowered their rear ramps, spilling platoons of sixteen UN soldiers each. They fanned out and secured the last three MFVs containing the FASE operators and VIPs. 

The soldiers hustled, undeterred by the ominous mass of onlookers congregating in the space outside the barrier. The street back to the highway and causeway was held clear by squads from 1st platoon and a grumbling turret swiveling slowly across the crowd of onlookers. The remaining platoons kept a chain of firepower along the entrance to the domed temple. 

Strange symbolic graffiti coated the exterior walls of the stadium-temple. Rotted animal carcasses hung from long chains, their decomposing meat festooned the upper crust and sloped down the dome. Upon closer inspection, the visitors realized that among the animal carcases were dozens of human bodies. The lifeless remains swung in the air, secured tightly with steel cables. The victims had endured a long, slow, agonizing death by exposure. The lethargic grinding of the metal cables twisting and swaying in the breeze tore at the fibers of the observers’ psyche.

From the shadows cast by the eyeless building emerged two incredibly thin, tall men wearing fine, tailored black suits and cylindrical beaver skin top hats. They strode with long legs in unison across the flaked, pitted, and grease stained lot toward the parked MFVs. The crowd quieted as the two passed. The men, faces painted so thick their ethnicity was impossible to determine, approached the UN conclave with fierce, suspicious eyes. Stopping just short of the group where the VIP’s stood, they greeted loudly in unison, “Bon apre-midi. Rainbow MamboMamba wait’n for y’all. Bienvenue, et bon chance.” Welcome, and good luck.

The soldiers, crouched in defensive positions while they swept the area searchingly with their weapons, stepped wide as Brutus moved towards their hosts. Green followed Brutus protectively. Alestir and Sami also approached their hosts. They had both removed their helmets but still wore thick blue chest plates that clashed loudly with their suits, now wrinkled from the bumpy ride. 

Ignoring Green and his team forming a semi-circle behind him, Brutus addressed them. “We thank you for this meeting and wish no harm upon you or your people.”

“Bon, bon,” they replied, their eyes still gleaming hatred. Their perfect synchronized harmony unnerved the guests more than the guns pointed at them. With synchronic arms and deep bows the two men beckoned the guests to follow, “Souple.” 

With their guests in tow they turned and strode back towards the entrance to the stadium. The temple of sport loomed before them, guarded by a huge set of doors covered in bones and flowers. 

The group moved towards the entrance with FASE teams Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie trailing behind. As they moved along, they dropped teams of attached infantry at intervals to cover their exit to the MFVs. 

Velvet sheen of their suits glimmering in the scant light, the tailored men opened the massive set of doors. They revealed a woman standing within, waiting with open arms. Her skin was a rich, caramel color that glowed behind her white, toothy smile. Ropy gray locks adorned with beads and ivory were wrapped in a headdress topped with a polished pallasite. The green-yellow colors of the amulet made from polished meteorite flashed briefly. A charm laden gris-gris hung around her neck. Made of black snakeskin and a red cotton lanyard, it sat between massive breasts that rested on a large belly. They shook with laughter beneath her colorful robes as she moved to Alestir, smiling broadly and hugging him close. He returned the embrace uncomfortably. 

“Ibinhavin this dream for eva….Mistah Alestir, sa fe long temps?” Rainbow Mambo laughed. Why has it been so long? Placing her hands behind Alestir’s head, she pulled him down and placed an enormous, wet kiss on his mouth. “I always be happy to see ya. Jus’ come an’ show yahself whenevah yah like. I nevah get tired of seein’ dis pretty face. Djearme?” She patted his face with familiarity. Alestir squirmed. His face flushed as he pulled himself from her embrace. 

“Madame Mambo, your hospitality is appreciated. I cannot return to you as often as I would like, but I always depend on the assurance of your support.” His voice wavered slightly. “The United Nations offers their support to the most powerful woman in the southern states of America.”

“The people seem anxious,” Sami said, interrupting their exchange. “Perhaps we should move inside.”

“Womahn,” the high priestess said with irritation in her voice. “The people will do whatevah they will. But know this - they do nohthin’ ‘cept they be provoked.” She wagged her finger. “An’ yah be always provok’n ‘em. Will yah remembah yah promise?” Her voice began to crescendo, “Will yah get yah filthy camps outta heah?”

Sami’s gaudy facade smiled unnaturally. “I am only concerned for your safety.” 

“An’ who be concerned for yours?” Rainbow snapped. 

Brutus stepped forward. “I am. For all of us.”  Rainbow turned to him. Boldly she studied him up and down before meeting his gaze. 

“Yah be dah ‘Savior of Europe’ sure as I live.” Rainbow turned to him. She unconsciously pulled the amulet from her headdress and smoothed her fingers across the ancient meteor. “We not be needin’ yah salvation heah.” 

After a brief pause she commanded Brutus, “Come heah.” 

Clearing his throat, Brutus complied, bravely closing the distance between them. She took his chin in her right hand and drew his face down close to hers. She studied his eyes and his face carefully, clucking and grunting quietly to herself. She deftly pulled the amulet from her headdress and held it as if she needed it to also study this strange man. The others stood by awkwardly. While she studied him, Brutus eyed the amulet that she never ceased rolling about her palm. He flashed recognition at the object in her palm. Rainbow caught it and said. “Mah treasure-pass’n down da family tree from mah ancestor. A gift from the Loa spirits.”

“An asteroid...rather, a meteor.” Brutus fumbled his words.

Releasing his face abruptly, she commanded, “Hold mah hand.”  She held up her open, calloused hand with the ancient amulet beckoning him. 

Brutus felt the room slip away as e slid his hand tentatively into hers and she enclosed it tightly. He felt a shock. Her hand became as cold as ice and her face tensed. Her eyes flicked white for an instant, almost imperceptibly. A broad grin slowly took possession of her countenance. 

“Yah not be who yah say yah be.”

The mood immediately shifted. Sami and Alestir glanced at each other apprehensively. Green was already alert, but his posture stiffened. Brutus stood up to his full height, towering over this frightening woman. She continued, completely calm and collected. Her icy hand held his in a vice-grip. 

She placed her other hand comfortingly above his own and said in a slavic language Brutus had not heard in a long time, “Tell me everything.”

Now his hand felt like it was on fire. Brutus struggled, willing himself to maintain composure. Multiple memories from his long life played across his mind involuntarily. He felt dizzy and his vision blurred. He fought against it, struggling to regain control. Long ago he held the amulet in his palm, he felt it slip from his grasp as the memory faded away into static. Forcing his mind to clear and his eyes to focus in on her face, he now found Rainbow’sher irresistible gaze penetrating him deeply. When she finally broke the spell and released his hand, he lurched slightly, somewhat off-balance. As his vivid memories receded, worry began to fill the void left in their wake.

She assessed him up and down again. Cocking her head to the side she said, “Yah magic be good.” Her eyes narrowed. “Power dat many be killin’ tah get.” She looked up at Alestir as she said this. This time her eyes held no warmth. An idea flashed across her face. She smiled and turned suddenly to the hovering entourage behind her. 

They were a terrifying sight with their sores and scant patches of hair. The smell of putrid flesh permeated the space around them. Radiation symptoms were obvious but they showed no signs of pain. Men and women of all colors had sullen faces and wore simple cloth ponchos. Their eyes were slack, the pupils gray and void of life. Teeth were stained sickly yellow and jutted from gums at all angles. The creepy congregation parted like a gate as the two tailored men led Rainbow and her guests into the heart of the temple. 

“This some Lord of the Flies, third-world shit,” Green said uncomfortably under his breath. With a raised eyebrow Brutus cast Green a brief expression. He also had a queasy sensation in his stomach. 

As they moved further into the interior the stench of refuse and unwashed bodies greeted them. Green spoke softly into his neck-mounted communicator. His team was feeling uneasy too. He ordered pairs of his troops to stand guard as they went towards the heart of the stadium. Pairs of soldiers split off to wait at the entrance, along the path, and inside a claustrophobic tunnel adorned with dangling feathers.

Wobbling amber firelight and a crushing stench rolled over them as they emerged into the great chamber. Shadows whickered about and heads bobbed as they walked on in silence. Boots scuffed and rattled things littering the ground, occasionally crunching a bone. Old, earthy, rotten odors of the ancient stadium were punctured periodically by pungent incense that burned in domes along the perimeter of the dirt-paved field. Goalposts were long gone, replaced by pillars hung with handmade flags adorned with strange embroidery. . 

Rainbow walked to a dark-red, oval wooden table. Taking a seat in a large red leather chair, she motioned for her guests to join her. Brutus pulled back a large wooden chair that shuddered against the hard-packed, rancid soil. Outside the orbs of light cast by the fires, the stadium murmured in deathly darkness. From unseen depths of velvety black space, Brutus felt thousands of eyes upon him. Everything smelled like death. The ripe odor made Alestir snuffle his nose. Sami pulled out a white perfumed handkerchief and pressed it to her lips and nose. 

Rainbow looked across the great wooden table to her guests. “Welcome, mah special guests! We be havin’ a sacred ritual.” She laughed, making her prodigious breasts and belly bounce.  “We be havin’ dis sacred ritual yestahday, but den I hear yah come an’ I say wait, we be waitin’ fah some special folk.” Suddenly more serious, she said, “And now here yah be. Yah be wantin’ tah see who be dah powerful.” She nodded to Alestir, drawing out the last words and clacking her teeth.

Her guests shifted uncomfortably. None of this made any sense to anyone. Alestir and Sami exchanged nervous glances. Rainbow Mamba laughed a deep, svelte bellow. Then she suddenly unleashed a torrent of words in her native tongue, directed exclusively at Brutus. He glanced up at Green, who stood with six of his soldiers a short distance away. 

Green clearly didn’t have a clue what Rainbow was up to. Beneath his cool, collected facade was a tightly wound ball of action, ready to spring. Alestir and Sami appeared to know more, but seemed oddly discomforted by it. Whatever their plan had been, this was not it. Brutus sighed and turned to the crazy woman who was testing his patience. He replied to her in the same language, “Don’t you understand I want to help you? I can help bring back order.”

She motioned for her tailored men, who obediently leaned down. She made several hand motions and whispered instructions, the muffled orders incomprehensible to her guests. She turned back to her guests as the two slender men moved away into the shadows. She said in English, “It be like yah say. Dem people be needin’ order. But order, it only be comin’ through sacrifice. An’ dah sacrifice of mah people for yah safety, it be mah concern.”

“These people?” Brutus waved his hand towards the zombies that surrounded them. They filled the stands that once held seats, all of them standing still, dumbly looking down through the darkness at their master. “What have you done to them?”

Rainbow jerked forward. Sami flinched back and Alestir smiled slightly. 

“Criminals,” she said. “All them murderers, rapists an violent peoples, ‘n such. They serv’n sentences now,  they be hav’n mah spell while mah people keep peace.”

Brutus looked incredulous. Thousands of animal eyes shifted in the darkness, blank terrors waiting for a spark to send them into a fury. The foul air oppressed them mercilessly, forcing the scent of death into their nostrils.

Rainbow sat forward. “Do yah believe in  juju, in magic?” 

Brutus suddenly found this question terribly difficult to answer. “I believe that some things cannot be immediately explained...but in the end, all things have a logical explanation.”

Rainbow smiled, pulling her head back slowly like a snake pondering a meal. “This be not Vodou, this be thah product of a world gone mad. This be order among chaos, and to maintain that order, I must perform magic. An magic, it simply mean doing. Mah Brutus, you be a man of doing, action an such. So ya be a magic man, no?”

Sami scoffed. Rainbow turned, piercing her with a stern glare. She shot a question at Sami like an arrow. “Have yah evah starved?”

Sami answered defiantly, “Yes, we all starved in one way or another.”

“Nah,” Rainbow glowered. “Mah people starved. This city left fah dead an’ evil swept up thah innocent.” She held up her gris-gris. The black snakeskin was now a brilliant rainbow of shimmering scales. “This snake here, this snake talk tah me on thah night of thah fall’n stars. This snake told me tah sacrifice him fah my peoples.” Her eyes flashed as she spoke, addressing all three of her guests. “In those days I witnessed horror in thah street. Cannibalism ripp’d this city.”

The fire light around Rainbow Mama began to grow higher along with the pitch of her voice. Stinking zombie breath throbbed. 

Reacting to the changing conditions in the room, Green ordered the teams to shift down the line to the exit, tightening the gaps. The three delegates noticed the change in the air as Rainbow explained the first sacrifice. 

“This snake Obo, sent by Damballa, great mastah himself, an he told me man be doomed without sacrifice. Yah see peoples starve? They go bad. They get evil.”

Like a high pitched laugh, mechanical stuttering started. Faintly at first and then growing louder, it eeked and squealed, the eery sound of rusty wheels turning painfully. There wasn’t enough light to see exactly where the sound was coming from. It echoed in the darkness, acoustic targeting masked by the white noise of shuffling zombies. 

Green switched on his night vision and saw thousands of them shuffling down the aisles and stairways, surrounding the outer edges of the fires. Their ghoulish eyes glowed white. The squeaky moaning was coming from the end zone. 

“Stay alert,” Green whispered into his mic. 

Rainbow stretched her neck forward as she spoke, the words ringing with emotion, “Most of them left fah dead, an’ where be yah blue UN soldiers when children starve in thah street?”

Human voices rang out, singing above the painful squeaking sound in the distance. The tune was off-pitch and out-of-sync. Through his helmet-mounted eye scope, Green saw where the sound was coming from, watching as it emerged from the crowd. They pushed an iron cart with rough-hewn wooden wheels. On it lay a naked woman flat on her back. The woman seemed unable to move, her body frozen still. But her wide bulging eyes were pictures of horrified panic.  

“Locked down by thah canal in an ol’ wine cellah, in thah last days I needed solace an’ safety from thah evil out there.” She pointed outside. “Obo, he morphed into thah flesh an’ blood of a woman. Obo became Venus, a golden head an’ fair skin’d plump of ah maiden sent by strange gods.”

Agitated zombies scuffled at the edges of the fire. Shimmering flames reflected in their dull eyes terrified the soldiers. Alpha, Bravo and Charlie teams shifted slowly, all of them trying to watch their sectors without averting their gaze from the macabre distraction of the naked woman on the iron plank, fair hair and skin now slick with sweat and flush with fear. 

Sami began to protest. Immediately she was silenced by a wave of the high priestess’s hand. 

Rainbow continued as a small portable grill was pushed towards the table. “Venus, she come in all shapes an’ sizes an beauty. An’ this beauty be thah next sacrifice,” Rainbow motioned to the woman being set onto the table before them. 

Brutus stood, his eyes narrowing. Sami sat perfectly still, the terror in her eyes fixated on the woman before her. Alestir also stood and looked around the room nervously. 

Green’s huge right thumb flicked off the safety of his rifle as his left middle finger clicked his mic three times. His teams immediately brought their weapons up in the wavering light of the room. “Fuck this,” he breathed.

“Surely you don’t mean to-” Brutus began. Rainbow cut him off.

“Obo, now Venus, offered her flesh to me. Thah fat hissed on mah skillet an’ I consum’d thah steam’n flesh.” Rainbow held up her gris-gris. “Obo was a giant snake an’ his skin be magical. Thah last bite, thah last morsel of flesh lies in this pouch. This forever satisfies thah cannibal hunger of mah people.”

Her guests were disgusted. Sami’s cosmetically frozen face wilted. Alestir heaved and covered his mouth with his sleeve. Brutus clenched the table edge, his eyes flicking from the woman to the witch, finally setting his eyes on her terrifying stare. 

Heat radiated from the portable grill, a half barrel covered in burnt fat and skin. The rusty metal dripped with oil, hissing on the coals. The sacrifice opened her eyes wide as the high priestess stood over her, tailored men on either side. Each held a sinister thin blade in hand. Tears leaked from the corners of her brown eyes down the sides of her face. Her limbs trembled. Even while sedated she could feel the heat close to her body. 

“Stop!” Brutus shouted. “This meeting is over!” 

Alestir and Sami exchanged knowing glances. They both looked to Rainbow expectantly, waiting for her next move. 

“Obo shared his flesh tah save mah people, then I end his curse of eternal life. His gift tah ‘ol Rainbow be thah spores from a new mushroom that grew overnight. See?” She arced her hand across thousands of zombies that huffed in acknowledgment. “De Emetic Louisiana - mah peoples call them thah White Devil mushrooms. It makes the suffering end, makes dah bad, evil ones zombies.” She waved her hands about her. “This our order, our safety. This our justice. This our prison.”

“Green,” Brutus said, “prepare to leave.”

The tailored men stepped towards the woman. She struggled to cry out, her body immobilized by heavy doses of White Devil. “She be no saint,” Rainbow said bitterly to the woman crying on the iron plank. The grill’s heat  causing her skin to gloss with sweat. “But what I want,” she brought her crazed eyes up to meet Brutus’s,  “...be yah heart.” The fires blazed, emitting fiery bursts of heat.

“Shit’s live!” Green bellowed into his coms. Shots rang out from two FASE operatives behind the VIPs. The suited men hovering over the naked woman jerked backwards with torso hits. The woman on the table screamed, her body pleading to move. 

Rainbow Mamba’s arms flashed up. Her right hand reached up to the amulet around her head dress, flinging the ancient meteor that shape-shifted into a deadly chakram at Sami. A glint of metal shot from her left sleeve, crossed over her right arm and pointed at Brutus. Before Brutus could react, Sami’s decapitated head sailed towards him across the table, her garish eyes wide within their turquoise lids. Hot arterial blood spewed like a geyser. Brutus thudded against the back of his chair with the impact of a knife in his chest, stopped by the hidden armor. Green yanked Brutus down where he met Alestir’s terrified face, both of them smashed on the ground beneath huge soldiers. Alestir’s characteristic smugness had eviscerated, replaced by shaky, panic-stricken confusion. He whimpered like an idiot.  

Two operators rushed forward. One stopped short of the table and spun on his heel. Whipping his weapon into place, he emptied his magazine into zombies that rushed for them. The other slung the woman onto his shoulder and fled. 

Green yanked up his rifle to kill the witch, focused on her shining silver eyes. With a clank his weapon misfired. As the cackling woman spun out of her massive throne, he cursed loudly and pulled his sidearm. Rapid fire shots ricocheted off the back of the bone, leather, and iron frame. Her laughter echoed above the moan of her slaves, closing in from all sides. Her parting words rang in the air, “Pase yon bonn jounen, Ka Noot! Yah family curse be worse enough!”

“Egress! Now!” Green shouted into his mic. He hauled Brutus up and cleared his rifle - now working perfectly. Shots rang out all around them as a soldier picked up Sami’s headless body and tossed it over his shoulder. Another scooped up her head and placed it in a backpack. Blood soaked them both as they fired their machine guns in short bursts to clear a patch. Soldiers clicked on bright LED gun lights, cutting the darkness as they cleared the exits. Brightly lit zombies seemed to feel no pain, but fell into heaps when shot in the head or chest. 

Thousands of bodies crushed towards them, howling. A group overwhelmed a soldier separated from his squad as they moved towards the tunnel in the darkness. Soldiers fired wildly while the FASE teams covered the remaining VIPs with controlled movement and firing as they desperately tried to escape. 

Another soldier was separated, and then another. Their screams as they were being ripped apart prompted Green to glance back in the darkness.  He cursed bitterly; he could not save them. Looking forward, he followed a pair of his team hauling a heavily limping Alestir into the tunnel of feathers. 

Zombies crowded the tunnel behind them. “Hot exfil! Kill those motherfuckers!!” Green hollered as he emptied his magazine into them. Legs were shot off at the knees but they still clambered and crawled towards the visitors. The teams’ boots sloshed through bloody slush as they pounded through the long tunnel. Red and orange tracers of high velocity bullets drilled into bodies and bounced off walls like spent fireworks. 

Brutus covered his ears and jogged along with Green and his team. His head rang with weapons fired in close proximity. Screams and explosions rattled around him. Something sweet and viscous filled his mouth. He spit and coughed as Green palmed a sidearm into his hand, shouting amid the chaos, “Follow me, we’re almost out!” 

Brutus grunted as a ricocheted round sluiced through his leg. He ignored it and stumbled forward.

A speck of light in the distance grew closer. All around them zombies with horrible eyes and gaping jaws pulled at soldiers. Out of ammunition, they resorted to sidearms and combat knives. Yellow teeth sank into exposed flesh. They ripped at visors and helmets, plucking them off to gouge at naked eyes within. Terrifying shrieks echoed through the tunnel. Bloody feathers rained down in darkness.