The Dark Inside (A Human Element) (3 page)

Every night he returned home a faint rose scent permeated the house. It must have clung to him from his uncle's rose bushes. It drifted around him like a sweet song that these walls had never known. Each day he hoped to see his mother bustling about in the kitchen. Instead, the house was dark and the fire out. His father already in bed resting between his double shifts–for that he was glad. He ate cold dinners at the table, wishing away the energy rationing so his mother could call on the receiver to talk.

The fourth day he knocked on Uncle Brahm's door but was met with a note that his uncle needed to travel to another town for ship supplies and wouldn't be able to work with him today. Disappointment fell on Caleb. He wanted to go. Why hadn't his uncle waited for him? He slowly walked home then it occurred to him that his mother might have returned. He ran the rest of the way and barged in the door. The kitchen was empty as usual.

He dropped his bag on the floor and was about to grab a snack when a cry pierced the air. He stopped, unsure if he imagined it or not. Then it called again.

And a moan. A
thwack
followed with a shriek. It came from above. Goosebumps prickled along his arms. His mother? He climbed the steps upstairs two at a time, silent in his footfalls.

Thwack.

More moans. Something stirred in Caleb's groin.

He eased open his parent's bedroom door. Aunt Manta was on her knees, naked. And his father was plunging his giant staff between her legs, slapping her buttocks with a leather whip.

Thwack.

Caleb couldn't move. He felt himself grow hard, despite his horror, as his aunt's breasts swayed from the force of his father slapping up against her. With each lash of the whip, she shrieked and then moaned, pushing deeper back into his father. She was enjoying it.

His father strained with his release, as he clutched his aunt's hips pumping into her.

"Father!" Caleb's voice finally found him.

Aunt Manta and his father turned to look at him, their faces open-mouthed with ecstasy and shock.

"Caleb!" His father withdrew and stood up.

But Caleb turned and ran back down the stairs. He ripped open the door and raced to the woods. Roses. That's why the house smelled like roses. Uncle Brahm made Aunt Manta perfume from his rose garden. Each night he was with his uncle his father had been plundering his brother's wife.

Caleb stopped to clutch his stomach and retched. The woods were silent except for his sickening sounds. When was his mother coming home? He needed her but what would he tell her? And Uncle Brahm? Jealous of Brahm's good fortune, his father had ruined everything. He stumbled on through a cold rain, heading for his hideaway.

He reached the well. A giant hole breached the brush he had last used to cover it. He shoved the branches aside and climbed down into his sanctuary, wary that some animal might be poised to greet him. Halfway down he paused, but sensed no movement. Heard no sound. The comforting dark reached up for him, and he longed to enter its embrace.

His foot reached the floor but didn't touch hard stone. He landed on something soft. He lost his balance and fell back, cracking his head on the side of the well.

He lay crumpled at the bottom, waiting for the pain to recede. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, a face stared back at him. Not the bright eyes of an animal. Not the hazy, unbidden memory of a chained boy. Eyes he recognized, yet so different now drained of life. His mother's.

Caleb screamed and slammed back into the wall. Her head lolled to one side and her leg, stuck out at a crooked angle, lay on her travel bag. She leaned up against the wall as if someone had propped her there.

Why had she insisted on leaving alone? He should have walked with her. He knew these woods better than she did. She must have wandered off the path in the dark and fallen into the brush. He never should have covered the opening so carelessly. He should have told someone about the danger and had it sealed.

This was his fault. His own, dear mother's loss–all his fault.

Or was it?

Crying, he touched her shoulder. Like frozen wood. "Mother?" It echoed up the dank walls.

She didn't answer. He placed his hands on her stiff body and closed his eyes, willing her back to life with his healing power.
Please come back. You're all I have now. Please!
Sweat painted the skin above his lips, formed on his brow; still he harnessed his power to bring her back. His love for her rushed through his veins driven by memories, but her memories were long gone and he could not unblock them. She remained silent and still. She had been dead far too long to work his power. Shaking, he undid her bun and gently placed her raven hair around her shoulders. Now she was beautiful again, even in death.

He smashed his fist against the damp rock. It bit into his hands. He didn't know how to deal with this–he was only a teenager, he shouldn't have to. With weak hands and a heavy heart, he started to climb.
Father!

Had the word flown from his mouth? It couldn't have, the sound had no echo. He looked back down and instead of his mother; he once again saw the vision. The boy in the well–he was the one who'd screamed.
Don't leave me here, Father. Please
! And even though he was looking down into the pit of the well, Caleb saw a gray figure loom over the opening to speak to the boy.
You must suffer for being weak,
it said
. No son of mine shall be weak.
The figure swirled away.

"Go away. I don't want to see you anymore." Caleb reached the top and clung to the last rung, trembling with grief. He had nowhere to go.

Beneath him he heard the boy crying. Above him, he heard movement in the brush. He looked up–into his own father's face. How could he know his hiding place?

And Caleb knew.

His father was that boy from long ago.
And
his
father had chained him in this well as punishment for being weak. Uncle Brahm had said Caleb's father was soft once. Caleb believed it now, but his grandfather had tortured that softness away. An ache of sadness for his father rose inside him through his overwhelming grief. Perhaps his father had only wanted his own father's love and respect too.

Caleb held tight to the rung and wept, his loss spilling over.

"Caleb, come up." His father held his hand out. "We can work this out."

Caleb shook his head. How could it work out with his mother dead below him and his father an adulterer? Sobs engulfed him as he hung on to the wet rock. The rain fell faster.

"I need you, son."

"You don't need anyone!" Caleb was ashamed of his tears but unable to stop them.

The weakness in his father's voice pierced his dying heart. "But I do."

Caleb was frozen between two worlds of horror as he hung over his mother's corpse, shrouded in darkness, and faced his dominating father who he thought he hated–and who hated him.

"We can start over. Maybe not here. Somewhere else."

"No. No!" Tremors ran through him as his anxiety grew.

"I know what your dreams are, Caleb. We can follow them together."

"You don't know me!"

"We are much alike."

"I'll never be like you." He sobbed harder.

"You'll see in time. Trust me."

"My mother couldn't trust you." It came out a whisper as his strength faded. He could just let go, have the same fate as his mother. He saw them both laying peacefully together in the dark. Then he could escape this dying world that offered him nothing.

"I'm sorry for what you saw. I was wrong…about many things. Now, come."

Caleb's sanctuary had been his father's prison as a child–and now his mother's grave. Her death was an accident, right? It had to be. His father couldn't have done what he dared not think. They were connected now to this well in pain, and to each other. His father confessed to being wrong. People who confessed didn't murder, did they?

He didn't
want
to need anyone. But everyone needed someone. Even his father.

Serah was gone. His mother was gone. Soon Uncle Brahm would be gone.

And Caleb took the hand offered.

It was all he had now.

The First Time

X-10

It would be his first time.

Not for killing. That was a known pleasure. For the pleasure of a human female. Dr. Bjord had promised him one as a reward for good behavior. X-10 knew it was just another of the doctor's experiments. He only hoped this one wouldn't be as painful.

He stared at himself in the small mirror that leaned on the built-in shelf of his concrete walls. He did not look like the human doctor. X-10's nostrils flared wide below his flattened nose. His cheeks were bulbous. His eyes yellow. Would he terrify this female? He flexed his arms. At eighteen they bulged out like many of the cartoon super heroes he read about. Comics were another treat Dr. Bjord bestowed on him. They also got taken away when he wouldn't submit to testing. But the one thing he wanted most of all he would never get. A name.

Like Charlie. Good guy characters had that name. Charlie Bucket. Charlie Brown. And especially Charlie Gordon in
Flowers for Algernon
. That's who he could pretend to be for the female: Good Guy Charlie. Someday, after he killed the decrepit doctor, he would claim a name. But not today. Today was for a different pleasure.

The bolt clicked open on his cell door. X-10 retreated into a shadowy corner. He took a deep breath and rose to his full height in his naked glory. Harsh light entered the room as the female was pushed in. Her long, blonde hair hung in waves. The door slammed shut. Metal slid into place. There was no escape for her now either.

She looked around the room then saw him in the corner. He stepped forward and she gasped, backing up into the door. She turned and pounded on it.

"Let me out! Please. It's a mistake."

She glanced back, her mouth a pink carving he yearned to touch. She was his game here in this cell for his easy taking.

X-10 stepped closer. A whiff of buttery caramel and vanilla delighted his massive nose. His gray walls held so little scent. He savored the few scratch-and-sniff perfume ads he'd found in used magazines. He breathed them over and over, imagining them caressing a female's skin. And now it did. He inhaled deeply. She faced him and pressed her back up to the door.

"No one is coming," he said. "I won't hurt you."

She shook her head violently as her wide, blue eyes darted up and down his body. She was as young as he. Large breasts pushed up from her white blouse and tan legs were exposed all the way up to her mini-skirt. Dr. Bjord did a good job finding this one on the street. X-10 had killed uglier ones than this from his mind's eye.

"What are you?" she whispered. She looked left and right but kept coming back to his face.

"Just a government experiment."

"You have yellow eyes."

"You have blue ones."

"Contact lenses?"

He shrugged, running his hands down his chest and legs. She shook her leg nervously and crossed her arms. "I want to leave."

"You can't. You're bought and paid for."

"I want my money back. It was only for an hour."

X-10 stepped closer. Deeper he breathed. Something else was in all that buttery sugar. An earthy smell of pine and bark. Her smell. She didn't shrink away this time.

He jerked his head at the camera on the wall. "He's watching us, you know."

"The old man?"

He nodded.

"You sound like a normal guy, except…"

"Normal." He liked saying that word.

"You don't look it."

He grunted.

She sighed, resigned. "Don't you have clothes?"

"They hurt my skin."

"Oh." Her face softened. Her fear was fading it seemed. "What's your name?"

He paused a moment. "Charlie."

She smiled. Her white teeth between full lips dazzled him. "That's a nice name. I'm Sabrina."

"Sabrina." He drank it in like hot chocolate. Rolled it around his mouth, warm and intoxicating.

"Why are you in here? For…hurting someone?"

"No. Scientific testing."

"That sounds awful. Am I being tested too?"

"Just me."

She looked relieved. "He said it's your first time."

X-10 nodded. He grew hard thinking about it.

She looked down and her eyes widened. "You're big."

He stood taller, feeling empowered. Her words poured over him coating him in unbearable yearning. Part of him wanted to push her down and throttle her, then bite into her soft neck and taste her insides. If she knew those thoughts she would start pounding on the door again. But part of him wanted to sink his rigid sex softly inside her and lick her smell. Could he make her want him?

No one will ever want you
, the doctor said.
You're too different. A killing machine. Not all human. Unworthy.
Dr. Bjord's words burned in his brain. X-10 would prove him wrong.

Sabrina took a deep breath and walked toward him. "Okay, an hour." She placed her hands on his chest and looked up into his eyes. Her scent made him dizzy. His breaths came faster as her warmth infused him. No one had ever touched him except to plunge needles in his arm or clamp probes onto his skin. He shuddered.

"Are you afraid?" She raised her eyebrows. He shook his head and tried to find his voice to say 'no' but only air floated out. She smiled at him then and leaned her whole body into him. He stood frozen at first then swam his broad hands through her soft locks. He tugged on them. They bounced back. Her lips touched his chest. Tingly explosions ripped through him. When she wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back he tipped his head back and moaned.

Her breath was a hot touch. "Why do they keep you in this awful place? It's so cold and damp."

"I am unworthy."

She looked up and touched the corners of his eyes. "You talk strange. Why unworthy?"

"I was born unworthy."

"I can make you a worthy man." She smiled, with practiced seduction. It was a generic smile she gave others. He thought of men between her legs and it made him sick. She was just a dirty whore.