[Demonworld #2] The Pig Devils Page 18

  “What other things? And who was that other man?”

  “The other discoveries I made are no concern of yours. Not yet, they aren’t. And as for the other man... soon, all of Haven will know who he is. He will be my sacrificial lamb.”

  Wodan prepared to ask another question, but Didi gestured for silence. “A beacon tuned to microscopic emitters in the body of Project alerted me that he was outside of Haven when you and the other two potentials found yourselves in exile. Sevrik set himself the task of finding Project and searched the entire island. The NeuSen said that Project lived, but we knew that the Array’s connection with our Project would be lost after three days of absence from Haven. That is relevant because we had vowed that Project’s modified genes would never mix with the demon’s.”

  “Mix? How do you mean?”

  “I have studied the genetic makeup of our overlords, Wodan. All demons are mules, males without the ability to mate. Did you know that? And there’s more: All demons are really only half-demon. Half their heritage is contributed by other organisms.”

  “From what other organisms?”

  “From any organism imaginable. Wolves, for example. Or pigs. Even... even from humans, Wodan. This demonstrates further proof of their mediocrity: They are only a half-species, incapable of any sort of greatness unless it’s contributed by another. That means that if the modified genes of our Project had mixed with the devils, the outcome would be devastating. True genetic apocalypse, Wodan. The monstrous cruelty of a flesh demon mixed with a god.”

  “You were willing to risk that?”

  “I was not. Sevrik was. You see, Project also had in his body a series of near-nanomachines set to incinerate their host should I activate my Killswitch. You see that ridiculously big, red button on that device over there? If the superbeing ever got out of our control, we swore we would kill it. The risk was simply too great.”

  Wodan felt faintly ill.

  “I believe that was part of the reason why Sevrik had me arrested,” said Didi. “He knew that I was going to kill our Project as soon as the NeuSen Array went black on the third day. He believed that the benefit of the superbeing’s continued existence was too great to throw away, and that we were too old to start again. He had me physically removed from the Killswitch. As soon as you returned, he had the Killswitch transported back to my home.”

  “You said that’s only part of the reason why he stormed the DoR?”

  Didi shook his head and laughed harshly. “My friend is a great idealistic fool sometimes. I think he went to that extreme because he has some damned silly notion that I’m going to come right out and announce to all of Haven that a potential superbeing exists in its fold, and that we should do all we can to fall in line behind it, train it for some great war, and then attack the flesh demons as one people.” Didi let his smile drain slowly from his wrinkled face. “Sevrik underestimates the weakness of the common man. I have no desire to be a martyr to assuage the sense of worthlessness and guilt that defines the existence of most men.”

  “Didi, why are you telling me all of this now?”

  “You already know the answer to that, Wodan! The nature of the game has changed. You were exiled with two other potentials. Those boys who had nothing else in common with you. Someone knows what you are, what you have the potential to become. The time for secrecy, at least in that area, is over.”

  “It’s been over for a while now. I know that Aegis Vachs’s secretary wrote the original list with the names of the exiles on it.”

  “I assumed Vachs had his hand in it,” Didi said matter-of-factly.

  “But there’s something else that I don’t think you realize. My chances of being this superbeing are only one-in-four. Luumis Lamsang was on the original Kill List. It turns out he was far outside the borders of Haven during the first three days of our disappearance.”

  “Lamsang!” said Didi. “The terrorist?”

  “The terrorist.”

  Didi rose unsteadily from his chair, gripping the handrail. Wodan rose and held his arm. Something felt strangely appropriate about the gesture.

  “Help me to my worktable,” said Didi. “It is time to find out once and for all if you are indeed my Project.”

  Wodan laid down on a metal table while Didi prepared a syringe. Didi pushed a button on the side of the table. It hummed.

  “What is this thing?” said Wodan, rising.

  “It will take a picture of the inside of your body. Be still.”

  Didi rolled up a sleeve on Wodan’s arm. In the sudden silence, he saw his friends lying dead in the dark woods at the foothills of Haven. The bite of the needle did little to distract him.

  While Didi drew blood up into the syringe, he said, “Korliss and Sevrik are men of ideals. They’re good men… with strong ideals. But ideals, when judged by the cold universe, can be wrong. Do you understand? I am a man who studies life; life, by the order of the universe, is the most interesting thing in existence. Life may try all roads and meet with failure on many fronts, but life is never wrong. Korliss could, perhaps, explain this a little better, but our time is short. Just remember, Wodan. Life itself is never wrong.”

  “I won’t forget,” said Wodan.

  Didi pressed a cloth to Wodan’s arm and removed the syringe. Wodan saw that it was full of blood.

  “How long?” said Wodan.

  “It will take a while,” said Didi. “And even when I have the results, I can only hope that we will be able to speak in a medium that allows for honesty.”

  “What do you mean?” said Wodan, getting up from the table.

  Didi stopped his work for a moment, looked down, then sighed. “What I mean is... Wodan, why have you not yet mentioned the murder of your friends, the outlanders?”

  They sat in silence. Wodan listened to the hum of the machines, watched lights blinking on strange machinery. He wondered if any of the equipment here had some use in his creation. Did they play some role in replacing Romana Wodan Kyner with… something else?

  “It’s not your problem,” said Wodan. “I didn’t come here to lay my problems on you. I just wanted to speak with you.”

  “But did you come here, so late in the game… because you knew this was your last chance to speak with me?”

  Wodan rose and paced the room, but did not answer. Didi fell into a chair and rolled to a computer monitor. As Didi worked, he spoke. “When people first came to this island, there were wolves here. The men cleared woodland to raise crops and livestock. Imagine the fear of those people, living in a new land, always wary that some devil would creep out of the dark or fall from the sky and devour them. Eventually the wolves came out at night to slaughter their pigs and cattle. The barking of wild animals in the night must have sounded like shrieking devils; those people had no idea what was in the darkness. But when they found out exactly what sort of animal opposed them, they were furious. They took up arms. They hunted down every wolf on the island. They killed them down to the last downy-haired pup, and drove them to extinction. Imagine generations of meekness, and suffering, and turning the other cheek - and the eruption of violence that would have followed.”

  “There were also pigs on the island,” Didi continued. “A special breed native to the island. The organs of these animals were similar to human organs, and early scientists learned to use these organs to replace human ones. We had skin, pancreas, lung, even heart transplants within a few generations. But the pigs also had huge litters of piglets - perhaps twenty or thirty per birthing. For some reason, the pigs did not overrun the island, and it was not because the wolves hunted them. You see, Wodan, nine-tenths of the piglets would inevitably die. The pigs carried a terrible disease, and would have gone extinct if a genetic mutation had not allowed them to birth so many. We think now that the pigs were developed by the Ancients as a means to harvest replacement organs for humans. But because our organs were the same, the founders of Haven soon contracted their disease. Even eating the flesh of a pig was enough to trans
fer Pharaoh’s Curse. Most of the children of Haven died. Our third generation was very nearly our last. Many thought that the gods of this world had cursed them for their pride. They began to believe that it was impossible to escape the wasteland.

  “But our scientists stayed the course. They discovered that the pigs were the root of the disease. They uncovered the cannibalism inherent in the feasts. They devised a technique to protect the unborn from the disease.”

  He grew quiet. “Go on,” said Wodan. “I want to hear the rest.”

  “And then,” said Didi, “the people of Haven slaughtered the pigs.”

  Didi ran a program on his computer, then enlarged the image for Wodan to see. He saw grainy black and white images of Maxil talking with Agmar. There were many videos, each from different rooms in the outlanders’ home, playing simultaneously. He saw Rachek walk down a hallway, then enter her room. She flopped down on her bed. Didi fast-forwarded the images, then stopped when he saw Maxil pushing Brad through the front door in a wheelchair.

  “What the hell is this?” Wodan screamed.

  “Video footage hidden in Guardian archives.”

  “Didi, why would they be taping my friends?”

  “I suspect that, tomorrow morning, the official story will be that they did it for the protection of the outlanders, to guard against possible prejudicial violence. Or even that they did it to protect the people of Haven from the outlanders themselves. They probably came to the home of your friends under some innocent pretext, then installed miniature cameras in the walls.”

  “And the real reason?” said Wodan, grinding his jaw, chest on fire.

  “We will know that soon enough, I suspect,” said Didi, “because this footage was meant to be discovered. This footage was not filmed and stored to a secure computer through a hard-line. It was, instead, recorded to a supposedly secure website. Strange, is it not? Few people know more about securing electronic databases than me. Fewer still know how to exploit the weaknesses inherent in any cybernetic system. I have known of this footage for some time. But tonight, just before you arrived, something happened with the security coding of this footage. Someone changed it in a very subtle way so that any business or government organization that employs hackers who make regular network patrols would be able to “discover” the footage on their own. Because of that change in security, I think the footage was meant to be discovered. Why the footage was ever recorded on the web in the first place, rather than on a secure hardline, could easily be lost in the shuffle.”

  “Play what happened tonight,” said Wodan.

  “Are you sure you can handle it?” said Didi.

  Wodan saw Rachek instructing Maxil in their kitchen. There was no audio, but Wodan could tell that she was trying to coax the boy into helping her bake a cake. Maxil tilted his head and Wodan could tell that he was responding with his trademark hard-headedness. Wodan could see Brad laughing from the next room, rolling about idly in his wheelchair. Agmar ignored them all, his face in a large book. Wodan nodded slowly. Didi fast-forwarded the video.

  On the video, Wodan saw the front door fly open. Guardians in black armor poured in, automatic rifles raised. Maxil whirled in terror. The guns fired in silence. Wodan cried out as the boy fell. Brad lifted himself awkwardly, then his chest opened up and he fell back in his seat. Wodan wept openly. Rachek stood frozen in her room. Black-armored soldiers rushed in. One in the front hit Rachek in the belly with his rifle-butt. She immediately pushed him into the others and, with a superhuman burst of strength, rushed out of the room. Another caught her by the arm and whirled her about; they crashed into the floor, thrashing and kicking. Disgusted, Wodan saw the soldier working at the zipper on his pants. Another soldier stood over the pair, watched their struggle, then shot Rachek in the head. The other Guardian leaped up and, while holding his pants up with one hand, seemed to be arguing with the one that shot Rachek. Others stood about while the two argued.

  Two Guardians further down the hall turned on the light to Agmar’s room. He sat with a book in his lap, mouth hanging open as he watched them. One Guardian casually lifted his rifle and sprayed him. He stepped forward and looked down at the book for a long time. He picked it up, then the two filed out of the room. While the others argued, the Guardian with the book tapped their leader on the shoulder and held up the book as he spoke. The leader nodded, took the book, then pointed to Rachek’s body. One Guardian bent over Rachek, dipped his gloved hand into the wound on her head, then went to a wall. He went back and forth, from the wall to Rachek, and painted the word REAVERS. The black-clad killers studied the design for a while. Wodan counted their number to be about twelve. They filed out slowly.

  Wodan felt weak. He bent down and laid his head on the edge of the desk, waiting for the tears to end. Didi did not touch him.

  After a few minutes, Didi said, softly, “Wodan, you have gone through terrible experiences. You are a boy of exceptional ability and sensitivity. I... Wodan, I like you very much. I hope that I have indeed given you a greater destiny than is allotted for most men. I hope that I have not lost my own son in the bodies of Saul or Marlon. I hope that I have not birthed a monster in Luumis Lamsang.”

  Wodan rose suddenly, his face streaked, eyes shining hard like cut diamonds.

  “Then I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you, sir,” said Wodan, “because Luumis Lamsang’s little tantrum is going to look like child’s play compared to what I’m going to do.”

  “What do you mean?” said Didi, as Wodan walked away.

  “First you kill the wolves,” said Wodan. “Then you kill the pigs. Remember? And I’m going to start by killing Yarek Clash.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Wolf Slayer

  Wodan followed the trail of his own footsteps in the snow. He returned to the lonely house of the dead and saw snow churned up all around. He followed the white chaos to a concealed slope where the footsteps gathered, then disappeared. Tread marks led into a pass. Wodan had passed by this very trail on his way into the house an hour before, but it meant nothing then. Now it meant everything. Wodan followed the trail.

  The cold did not bother him as he wound his way uphill. He went deeper and deeper into the woods. Tall black trees with sparse, bare branches hung overhead. The ground was covered in snow shining with moonlight, its perfect brilliance marred by the path that was cut into the earth. Many paths crossed and intersected, but the scarred path was always there to guide the way.

  Snow began to fall again, a light mist of crystals. He picked up his pace. The path widened and met with other trails. For a moment he thought a large number of vehicles had passed through the area, and his heart sank when he thought he would lose his prey. After circling the intersection, he realized that there were only two vehicles, but one had driven in circles around the intersection, then forced the other into a snowy embankment. Animals at play. Both vehicles resumed their course through the forest path. Wodan followed.

  He saw a small wooden structure with a glass front. A sign on the structure read:

  CAMP FRIENDLY RESTING RESORT

  INQUIRE ABOUT OUR LODGING HERE!

  He lost track of the hours spent on the forest trail. Only near the end of the trail did he begin to feel a depression that cut into his will. A weak anger, an identification with victimization that clouded his resolve. Then he heard noises ahead, faint, like a dance of ghosts. When he heard laughter, the slate was wiped clean again. He felt a hard, shining lucidity. He hurried his pace.

  He saw a wooden hut in a clearing. He knelt behind a tree and watched. He saw two open-topped Guardian jeeps parked outside near a small fire that had nearly burned out in a great mound of ash. He could see light from a window in the cabin’s side, then movement. A pop song began playing loudly; he heard cheering inside, laughing. The song had a fast, electronic beat. The voice of the singer was feminine and mediocre.

  All my life

  Running for your love

  All my life

  Searchi
ng for your love

  Love, love, love

  O-o-oh, your love

  On and on, mindless. He crept low through the clearing and hid behind one of the jeeps. Empty bottles of alcohol littered the ground, the floorboard of the jeep, the hood. He saw several piles of black armor inside the jeep. He pulled out a helmet and studied the thing. He scratched at the black and saw dirty white paint underneath.

  All it takes is a little paint, he thought, to turn Guardians into killers?

  He heard wrestling inside the cabin, the impact of bodies smacking into a wall, then raucous laughter.

  Among two large gasoline canisters in the back of one jeep, Wodan found several packets of rations. He tore into the silver packets and forced them down. He tasted a dried nutrimilk powder base mixed with something like hamburger meat, then felt a surge of energy. He developed a plan.

  He crept to the other jeep and peered inside. He saw more of the black armor, but also some strange metal discs. He picked one up and saw a label on one side. He gazed at the cabin, then crept over to the dying fire. The thing read:

  GLADIATOR MINE

  1. SET ON GROUND, COVER

  2. PULL CENTER TAB

  3. DO NOT DISTURB!

  Wodan felt a rush swim through him, for there were quite a number of the things in the second jeep. He turned back to the first jeep, then saw more equipment in the distance. He moved out of the light and saw a large machinegun propped on a tripod in the snow. In the distance he saw tree trunks that had been torn up by the thing. He crept over to it. While the machine looked complicated, he was glad to see that the drunks had already loaded a long belt of bullets into its side. Several empty belts, empty bullet shells, and mounds of broken glass littered the area. He saw two black rifles propped up against a tree. They looked more complicated than those he had used in the wasteland. They had straps, so he picked them both up and hung them on his back. He lugged the machinegun near the jeep closest to the cabin, then dropped it heavily. He was amazed nobody heard him. The drunken clamor continued.