Meyer winked at him with a sly grin. “I did say that, didn’t I? Well, I suppose you’ve got a point there.” Sucking his candy, he continued, “But just because I could pull it of doesn’t mean I did. I meant what I said about that balance, Voorhees, ever so delicate. And I don’t think you’d want to upset it either.”
“Meaning…?”
“Imagine Gaylen without ol’ Finn Meyer. Think of what these streets would look like. Think of just how difficult your job would be. My God, what a sad picture.”
Meyer had smuggled guns and drugs into Gaylen. He could have gotten his hands on infected bone.
Voorhees’ gaze narrowed. “You’re nothing new, Meyer. There are men like you everywhere. And if you were taken out, any one of them could replace you — so don’t go thinking you’re too precious to be locked away and forgotten.”
“What do you mean, prison?” Meyer laughed. “There’s no prison here! They wouldn’t even send me to Cleveland. You know why? Because I’d get back in, and then I’d have all their fucking heads on pikes!”
He stepped in close to Voorhees and snarled, “Just try to bring me in. Do it now! Slap the cuffs on me and march me out of here. You won’t even make it to the street.”
Voorhees nodded. “I see. Looks like I’ve gotten under your skin a bit, Meyer. You know that’s not good. That’s a sign of weakness — and among your people, that could get you in real trouble. Know what I mean? The slightest sign of weakness and all that loyalty you command is gone. Get a hold of yourself, Meyer.”
Voorhees turned away before the man could reply. He strode out into the street with nary a glance over his shoulder.
Meyer called Casey on his radio.
“Did you get things taken care of with the girl?” he demanded.
“I’ve got one of my best working on it,” Casey responded. “We’ll find her.”
“Haven’t had one run on me in a long while,” Meyer muttered. “I’ll need to make an example of her.”
“But before you do…?” Casey said, an edge of desperation in his voice. That slightest sign of weakness.
“Sure, you can have a go at her,” Meyer replied. “You’ll really like this one, Casey.”
Dr. Zane sat before a small cage, his expression dark. He watched the rats inside; one was lying on its side, and the other was sniffing it timidly. Little white rats, pink-eyed and trembling, blissfully unaware of their world.
The rat lying down twitched. Its eyes opened. Tiny appendages grasped at the air.
It sat up and tore the other rat’s throat out.
Zane had ground up part of the bone and fed it to the rat. Without the benefit of an actual lab and scientific equipment, this was all he could do to test the sample — but it was enough. He shook his head in sadness as tiny carnage unfolded before him.
Twenty / Strange People
Adam was lying in a bed in a small white room. Blankets were tucked in around his arms and legs, and he could feel the soothing moisture of wet wraps around his burns.
The woman entered. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen
Adam had not known the meaning of beauty in his former life, but he had admired (envied) Man’s creativity and often was taken by simple architecture. He had spent many long hours wandering the streets of great cities where buildings more than a century old stood beside new works, contrasting the minds of then and now, structures complimenting one another and holding the Reaper in sheer awe. He loved the geometry of it. Masons had once thought geometry to be the language of God. Certain angles and curves seemed to please him more than others, perhaps appealing to his supernatural essence, and he grew to favor specific artists.
In this woman’s face he saw a masterwork in flesh. Every angle and shade was exquisite in itself, and when it all came together, smooth angles framing the dark pools of her eyes… it was overwhelming.
“Stay still,” she said, moving to adjust the pillows behind his head. “I don’t know if I can heal you, but I’ll try. It will take time.”
“I… I’m not a man,” he croaked.
“I know,” she replied. “I’m not a woman.” And she smiled at him then, and he knew that she had once borne the Reaper’s burden.
He knew there had been others before him, but never had the slightest notion of what had become of them when they left their station. He’d wondered what had made them quit. He’d wondered what they looked like, which mortal myths each embraced as their guise — but he’d never imagined that someone like the woman in white could be one of them.
“It’s snowing,” she said. “You’ve been here a day and a night. For a time, I thought you were gone. What did this to you? Surely not the undead. Were they living?”
“No, no,” he coughed. “It was an undead. A strange one. There’s something else driving him.”
“Do you have a guess what it was?” she asked.
“No.” He studied her face. She just looked too… too human. Too real. And yet—”You were a Reaper,” he said.
She nodded. “A long, long time ago. You are probably the one that took it on after me. It’s been ages since I’ve met another. Tell me — why did you leave your post? I’m always curious.”
“I’m just as curious about you,” Adam said.
“Tell me yours,” she said, “and I’ll tell you mine.”
“It was a child,” he said. “I couldn’t let her die. Not like that. But there was nothing I could do… then it came to me. Quit. Just quit. And all I had to do was do it, to exercise this will. That was it.”
“Did you save her?”
“I think so.”
“I’m glad.” She pulled over a small hand-carved chair and sat beside him. “Relax your body. I’m going to try to relieve your pain.”
“What about your story?”
“Patience,” the woman cooed. She gently laid her hands on his belly. He gasped in pain… then it was gone.
“Civilization was young when I fell,” the woman said. “And civilization, which I thought would save Man, only led to more reasons for war and greater means by which to shed blood.” She massaged his legs as she spoke. “Early men fought for basic needs. Now they fought for status, influence, pride. I wept for humanity as I realized that they would only get better at harming one another.”
The way she laid her hands on him was almost sedative. He forced himself to sit up straight and asked, “You said you fell…?”
“We are all fallen,” she answered. “Those of us who are born into our stations, as we are, never to grow or change — when we do change, we fall and become like men. It’s not as bad as it sounds.
“There was a time when I thought civilization and faith heralded the dawn of a new peace, but I was so wrong… so inhuman then. I didn’t know Man as I do now.”
Adam nodded. “The American government actually made the plague… I believe the power existed long before that, in some form, but they willfully created afterdead. That was when I first became aware of them. It’s how I became aware of them, I suppose.”
A small, sad smile crossed the woman’s face as she looked at him.
“Adam,” he said, unsure what she was searching for.
She laughed. “I didn’t know you had a name.”
“Don’t you?”
“I could never settle on one. Sometimes I wish God had named me the way parents name their children. But we’re not His children, are we?”
“You speak as if you know Him.”
“I do, in my way. There was a time when I had memories of being in His presence — I think — but they’ve long since faded. Now I can only pray, and imagine, as they do.”