The Black City Ch. 03

I oversleep, this morning. Having scavenged some of Syssyx's food last night, I'm not awoken by the feeling of my stomach gurgling for the first time in months, so I stay in bed and get some much-needed rest. Time to think about the choices ahead of me.

When my eyes finally flicker open, I'm greeted by the sight of the flaking wall opposite my bed stretching and contorting, a face trying to force its way through and into our world. Teeth gnash in slow-motion against the wall's other side, and through a cracked wooden slat I see a dilated, bloodshot eye peer through at me. Must be saturday. Wall-Face always shows up on saturdays.

Sitting up in bed, I ignore Wall-Face and stumble, naked, into the bathroom, indulging myself in what few ablutions are still possible. I look into the cracked mirror, ignoring the fact that it distorts its reflection of the world behind me -- it shows not the other side of the bathroom, but a vast orchard of black, rotted trees, a corpse hanging from wire from each branch. Sometimes the reflection the mirror shows changes, but usually it's this one. I call it the Garden.

I check my makeup, touching it up in a few places. Been maybe a week since I last applied it, but it's holding up alright. I clean and straighten my piercings, running what few teeth of my comb remain through tangled black hair. Lately I'm not sure if the visions I see are real, or in my own mind -- my thoughts tangled by Zaz's profane rambling, by this sense of aloneness, being cooped up in this little apartment room. The darkness outside and beyond. It's hard to tell what thoughts belong to the psychos outside that I have the curse of being an antenna for, or... just mine.

All I know is that I can't keep living like this.

I trudge back to my room, throwing a moth-eaten black-and-white striped shirt over my head, followed by a black skirt, my boots, and my archer's glove (not super necessary for a crossbow, but does help me keep the thing a little more steady). I find myself sitting on the edge of the bed for a while longer, thinking. In the living room I can hear the sounds of a rerun of "The Adventures of Billy and the Rest of Billy's Fingers," and a chuckle from Syx. From the sound of it, it's one of the better episodes -- the one where Billy's left ring finger (the silly one) steals a pie that ends up being made of corpse teeth. After a stern lesson about stealing, Billy eats the pie anyway, his mouth bleeding more and more with every bite.

I have to get out of here. I finally stand back up, making my way to the living room to find Syx on the couch where I'd normally be, using her crazy-skin jacket as a blanket and chewing on a dusty old energy bar. I was right about the episode; Billy's just about to take his first bite. I look away from the TV, to the eldritch hybrid woman who just came into my life. "I'm coming with you."

There's a pause, and her bright blue eyes turn towards me with an expression that's half quizzical, half expectant. Like she knew I'd give in, but not when or why. "You've taken all the time you need to think, then?"

"Yeah. As long as... I mean, if Zaz is willing to come with us," I nod.

"Surprising loyalty to one of the Young," Syx muses, "you two must have really developed a bond." She takes another bite of the energy bar, crunching into it just as Billy's crunch into the pie. She winces, and turns the TV off. "I was never a great fan of this show."

"Nothing else on?"

"Just static."

"Right."

She's silent for a moment after that, then turns her attention back to me. "I spoke with Zazkoroth last night for some time. I know you can't... understand us well, and I've asked him to relay his thoughts to both of us simultaneously from now on. Since he understands english but doesn't speak it, we should hopefully be able to communicate normally."

I furrow my brow and make my way over to the couch, nudging Syx to scoot over so I can sit beside her. I hesitate a moment, then lean back against the couch's arm, propping my legs up onto her lap. "Did you talk to him about anything else?"

"Some things. He is... unique among the Young, as far as I can tell. Much of the influence of his birthing seems lost on him, and despite the occasional act of brutality I'd say he's the most innocent creature I've ever met... post-Cracking, of course." Syx pauses, considering her next words. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've influenced him far more than he's influenced you."

I purse my lips, leaning my head back to rest my neck on the couch arm. "Who knows where either of us would be without each other. Zaz and I have been together for years, just after shit started going downhill -- like really downhill, after the Mars Rebellion fell, all that. He was little then, but still kept me safe from those lunatics out there." I sigh, then shrug. "Do you have any food left in that pack?"

"A few more of these," Syx reaches into her backpack and tosses me an energy bar. Never thought I'd be so excited to see granola. As I unwrap it and crunch in, her fingers trail lightly up and down my bare legs still draped across her lap, more soothing than seductive. Nurturing. "I talked to him about leaving, too."

I chew silently for a few more seconds, then swallow. "What did he say? Or... you know, burble?"

"He said he was leaving the decision to you. Things like Zaz don't have the same demands we do -- he has all the food, company, and activity he needs to stay healthy and sane," the tendril-haired beauty hesitates, tracing her fingertips up and down along my pale skin. "But he knows you need more."

I nod, exhaling through my nostrils and staying quiet for a little while as I eat the granola bar. I don't want to put Zaz in a situation where he'll be uncomfortable, but it has to be worth a try. Worst comes to worst, we come back here, but... if it's better there, if there's people, food, water, some semblance of civilization... will I be able to come back?

"I'm gonna start packing, then. Zaz still on the roof?"

"Last I saw, yes," Syx confirms.

"Can you tell him to come see me when he comes down?"

She nods, and I make my way back to my room, grabbing the biggest and most intact backpack I own -- a hefty, black, utilitarian bag with only a few holes eaten through it. I start packing.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

An hour passes before I hear the distinct shuffling of a certain amorphous mass making its way into my room behind me. I've reached the point where I need to choose what to take and what to leave behind, a bright green stuffed dragon plush in my hands. It's been burned numerous times at this point, parts eaten by bugs or the rats in the walls. What was once a big, friendly blue eye is now a blackened socket where the polyester melted in on itself. I know I shouldn't take it. I still want to.

"SureLy you meann't to leave behind Draggy, n0t?" comes Zaz's warbling 'voice' in my mind, the psychic radio tower that is my brain well-tuned to his specific signal by now.

"Only have so much room, Zaz," I sigh softly. "Did Syx tell you what I said?"

"That we are to bee a-journeYingst, indeed she haz done this thing," he responds. "I implore to not aCcept my trepidatings as worriness, droplet -- eagerly I await our kwest."

"I just hope I am." I drop Draggy to the bed and fasten all the buckles on my backpack, slipping it into place and grabbing my beaten-up crossbow. "I'd ask if you had anything to bring with you, but...."

"Indeed, the Zaz is but a bl0b, things to pozzess are unsenSikal."

"Then I'll..." I frown, glancing back at my room in the middle of shouldering past Zaz. Like it or hate it, it was mine, and has been for a long time. Lot of memories, good and bad. Mostly bad. Largely terrifying. My eyes linger on the stuffed figure of Draggy, laying still and alone on the bed. "Then I'll get Syssyx and meet you downstairs, alright?" I squeeze past Zaz completely, and go into the living room, nodding to Syx.

Behind me, Zazkoroth stays still for a long moment, his single massive eye still staring into my room.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"So you said the crazies don't bother you?" I huff, adjusting my shoulders so that the backpack fits more comfortably. Despite not carrying a lot -- mostly clothes and some battered toiletries -- it weighs heavy on my light frame, as does the crossbow I've been lugging around. It's been about two hours since we left the apartment, but I can already feel my muscles starting to burn with exhaustion. I have a body built for scouting, not long treks.

"They do not," Syx answers, "not directly, anyway. They always take notice of me, but they seem equal parts curious and fearful. I doubt the deranged will be much of an obstacle, and the camp isn't much more than a day away."

"Wait, what do you mean 'not directly?' Do they do things, um.... indirectly?"

"Well... occasionally th--"

"Madness Sometimes Attracts Other Mad Things," Zaz burbles ominously, his mental voice uncharacteristically grave.

"Eeuh... yes, that..." Syx furrows her brow, her pallid gaze looking down at the rotund eggplant abomination. Zaz's single pupil has dilated, his bulk seeming to ripple and churn. "Zazkoroth...?"

"Alone here, us = n0, yess?" Zaz blinks, his gaze returning to focus but the edge to his demeanor remaining. "Remembrous are we, as to why goiNg this way is goodn't. Greater things. Madder things. Those whoms't taste the Zaz."

"That doesn't sound good," I say under my breath. I take a moment to get a feel for our surroundings -- we aren't out of the city yet, making our way down a long main street littered with dust, trash, and the occasional necrotic body part. Flickers of emerald lightning occasionally skate across black clouds, as they always do, but something does feel... not right. At our sides are buildings, largely rubble or at least partially destroyed, the windows bashed or blown out by fiery backdrafts. The only possible shelter of note that catches my eye is the 138th St. Liquor Store, small but built of sturdy brick, metal bars in the windows. It'll be a place to retreat into if we have to... and if we can get the door open.

Of much greater significance is the dour hum against the inside of my skull, my telepathic abilities starting to fire off in a way I'm not used to. I've been able to tune out the confused, manic thoughts of the crazies (or the 'deranged,' as Syx insists on calling them), but this feels different. Almost like the twisted thoughts of Zazkoroth, but... bigger. Darker. "Zaz is right," I say, dropping my voice to a whisper. I load a bolt into my crossbow. "We aren't alone."

Zaz's eye flicks back forward, into the dark mist that obscures every horizon in the Black City, and my gaze follows his. Syx looks on edge, her impressive figure poised to react to something she doesn't yet see coming -- she may be cool, but she isn't as in tune with Zaz as I am.

In the near distance, perhaps some hundred feet away, I see a figure emerge through the mist. I can make out arms and legs, a head. It's human-sized and human-shaped, even if it does move a bit strangely -- almost more like its dragging itself forward, rather than properly walking. Still, with what I've seen from the psychos littering the streets, that isn't all too shocking. "Alright, it's just a guy. I think we're cool." I lower the crossbow, but keep the bolt loaded in place -- just because whatever's approaching is human doesn't make it friendly. In fact, the opposite is dramatically more likely.

"Strange for them to wander alone in the open," Syx murmurs, "not huddled away or replaying their old lives."

I move a little closer to the side of the street with the liquor store and move cautiously forward, and the human figure approaches as well. As it draws closer and closer, I notice that more about it than its movements is strange... its arms hang limp, the face seems featureless. Behind it, shadow looms, at first obscured by the darkness and mist. "It isn't human," I whisper. "Get back, get back, it isn't huma--!"

Something looms in the darkness, and only now does it become clear. The figure we had seen -- human-shaped, but in no way a person, not even one of the deranged -- dangles from a cord like a spider's thread, some fifteen feet in length. At the height of that cord is a head not unlike that of a solpugid, with four massive, scissor-like mandibles and two tiny, close-set eyes that burn a shade of sickly chartreuse. One enormous arm steps forward, the creature walking on its knuckles like a gorilla, though the arm itself is spiny and chitinous. A second arm follows, then a third. The creature is monstrous, dark gray in color to blend with the mist and smoke, its coloration deepening to black at its joints and the ends of its various spines and knobs. Horns like that of a goat or ram spiral out from the back of its insectoid exo-skull, but what little I can make out of its body more closely resembles beast than bug. It's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen, and it's utterly, completely, silent.

With a snap of its mandibles, it severs the cord hanging from its jaws, and the human figure -- like a lure at the end of a fishing line -- drops loose.

"Holy fuck," I whisper.

"One of the Young -- we have to drive it back!" I hear Syx gasp, backpedaling a step, her eyes narrowing. Zaz's thoughts have devolved into a feral scramble, the thing turning aggressive -- his skin hardens into inky armor, heaps of tentacles unspooling all at once as he prepares to defend us. I glance back at the liquor store. If we'll be safe anywhere, it's there. There's no bringing this thing down.

"There's no fighting this thing," I try not to stammer, locked in fear as I look up at the creature looming over us, nearly twenty feet tall and at least as long, an abomination from the stars. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to will myself past it, let the rambling of the crazies flood my mind, drown out the dread with stupidity. I take a few steps back and lift my crossbow, firing off the bolt I'd loaded before, and it flies towards my target. I'm not a great shot, but it's hard to miss something the size of a two-story building, and I watch the bolt tink harmlessly off of one of its massive, chitinous arms. "Fuck. Fuuuck!"

The thing rears up one of those huge arms, its spiney, clawed fingers unfurling and beginning to drive downwards towards me. Its size makes it slow, but there's a terrifying inevitability to its every movement, like I may still not be able to evade an attack so massive. The arm, though, is bashed sideways by the hurtling figure of Zazkoroth, his tentacles winding around the spikey limb and keeping his body anchored to it. He seems to have swelled in size, attaching his deadly underbelly to the enormous pedipalp and slowly crushing it with his tendrils -- like a dozen anacondas constricting around the world's largest crab claw. The creature's arm rears back, but still it makes no sound... though the distraction leaves it open for Syx to make an attack of her own.

I wasn't entirely aware how Syx fought, or even if she could, but it becomes quite clear now. Even as her body backs up, I see another one of her -- an illusion, a mirage? -- summon a pair of daggers into her hands, forming them from solid white light and casting them outward, throwing the glowing blades toward the thing's face. An instant later, she, or at least the version I had thought was beside me, vanishes completely, leaving only the one that had attacked. She keeps this up, seeming to 'blink' around the battlefield, leaving strange afterimages of herself as she hammers the creature's durable body with blades of starlight. In only a moment, I'm not sure which one of her is real or an illusion -- if she's teleporting, phasing, duplicating, or what. But what is becoming clear to me is that neither her attacks, nor Zaz's, are doing much damage.

I load another bolt and fire it as the Young One smashes a claw into one of Syssyx's copies, which vanishes harmlessly. Panicking, I run for the door to the liquor store, trying to get it open. Locked. Fuck! "We have to get inside, we can't beat it!" I scream. Zaz, octopus-like, it climbing tentacle-by-tentacle up the thing's body, pounding it with his limbs and leaving bloody gashes where his underbelly goes. He's able to stand up to the thing's huge, slow attacks so far, but I don't know for how long.

Syx seems to hear me, and I watch as she throws two more blades toward the creature -- then am abruptly startled when I hear her voice from behind me. "You can't get in?" she says in a hurried whisper.

"It's locked!"

"Give me a second." She vanishes from behind me, and I start to load another bolt. It isn't helping, but I have to do something. A moment later I hear a click, and the door swings over, revealing the beautiful hybrid on the other side. "I've got it, get in!"

"I have to wait for Zaz!" I shout back, beaming an urgent signal to my old roommate, into his thoughts. The response is... odd.

"FghnakskjhKIIIi, ajjjj zzzzzzzzzzllkk, I c0me, I am c0minggggghhhhh, GGHnVVvvv000rrrRrrkkk--!" He's hurt, I can feel it. Driven almost mad by being next to one of his own. I have to get him out of here.

I fire another bolt, then another, frantically loading shot after shot and just hoping to distract the creature enough for Zaz to dislodge. Finally, it seems to work -- the thing pauses, sees me, and decides to do away with me. With one massive claw, it peels Zazkoroth off of its back, tossing his amorphous shape in my direction, forcing me to dodge. I roll sideways, landing hard on my hip, and yank back the string to fire another shot. It storms towards me and I fire again, just barely able to make out the shape of Syx dragging Zaz's limp body into the liquor store. He's safe. Good.

Titanic, silent, one of the Young One's pointed, spider-like back legs rears up above me, and I stare up at it. I reach for another bolt, but the case is empty. I look sidelong at the other two, at the open door.

"Raine, come on!"

There's no time. The leg comes down, and I do all I can -- throw up one arm to feebly block. I know it won't help. It's pure instinct, nothing more.

There's a flash of light, and I feel the earth rumble beneath me. I hear the backward staggering of massive feet, and for once, I hear a roar. High, crooning, more like a sobbing wail of a colossal human than that of a beast. Then I don't see anything, or hear anything. My vision goes white, and all I feel are hands around my arms, the sensation of being dragged.

Echoing through me, the vibration of a steel door slamming shut.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I'm not sure how much time passes before I open my eyes again, blinking a few times before finally coming to full consciousness. My body aches all over, though I'm uncertain of the source -- the walking, the fight with that thing, or... whatever happened afterwards.

My eyes adjust to dim, moody lighting and I find myself inside a building, shelves of booze, mixers, and other various accoutrements of mixology, leading me to believe I'm safe in the liquor store. Though... that thing....

"Raine? Are you awake?" Syx's voice. I blink a few times, following the voice to see her sitting nearby, slouched against one of the shelves with a bottle of dark rum dangling from her hand. "I know not whether to be grateful or shocked."

"That bad?" I grunt, sitting up a little. I've been propped against a wall, but seem to have slumped considerably in my unconsciousness. "What the fuck happened? How long have I been out? Also -- gimme that," I weakly extend one arm for the bottle Syx is holding. It's been years since I found an intact bottle of booze, and efforts to make it myself went... poorly.