Afterland (36 page)

We walk deeper and deeper into the ground and the ceiling above us gets heavier and heavier. Or so it seems to me. But finally, we see a large set of stairs and the Carviate priests lead us up. It flits through my mind that it’s strange for a library to have such a large underground system and I wonder what it was originally for; it couldn’t have been a torch-illuminated dungeon.

Finally, we rise into daylight. I release a breath I wasn’t even aware of holding. I didn’t realize how profound an effect being locked up underground had on me. I breathe in the fresh air and I feel like I am being born again, clearing out all the dirt that has accumulated in the bottom of my lungs.

We walk through the streets of the city. Few people are out. Those who are bow respectfully at our solemn procession when we pass, but nobody follows us, from which I get the impression that the sacrifice is private. I look at the people. All of them are shaved and tattooed, just like the Carviates that we’ve already seen. I wonder what drew all ten-thousand of them here, to a cult of murder. It can’t be that all of them are thirsty for blood. Maybe the Carviates offered refuge. Maybe this is where all of the townless people disappeared to. I look around for a glimpse of a familiar face, but I see nobody. I wasn’t expecting to, and besides, I doubt I would recognize anyone now. I look at Smaller Sally, asking the unspoken question again but she purses her lips and shakes her head almost imperceptibly.
Wait.

The Priests take us through a maze of back alleys. The trip above ground is much less disorienting than the underground one. The houses all differ, if only slightly, from one another and I can see the sun, so I can tell that we’re always heading West. We can also see the wall. I think it was designed to be seen from any point in the city. A constant reminder not only of the Carviates’ strength, but also of the fact that even though danger may not be able to get in, those inside are not able to leave.

We walk for fifteen minutes until we reach a short glass tunnel. At the end is a stone double door. Each of the Priests opens one and lets us through. We are in a dark tunnel. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they do, I see that we are in a short concourse. Both sides are marked by identical stone doors. The walls are made of stone as well, giving the short hallway a damp chill and a sense of ominous finality. After this hallway must be the courtyard.

The Priests bolt the door behind us and open the next one. We walk in. After a moment of readjustment to the light, I see in full what the Courtyard really is.

The first thing I notice is the smell. It is a smell that is unnervingly familiar, but cruelly different, like meeting an old friend who is too different to be the person you remember. The Courtyard smells of broken dreams and unfinished lives and last words.

The Courtyard smells of death.

I bring my hand up to my nose. Hopetown smelled dead as well, but this is different. Hopetown smelled of sloppy, careless, arbitrary death. Hopetown smelled of accidental death. This place smells of cold and calculated death, performed for the sake of the act. I shudder and sweep the Courtyard with my gaze.

The courtyard itself is composed of giant stone pillars and an open roof. The cold morning air clears through the space but it does nothing to help the smell of death. The walls seem to echo and refract the sounds of the last screams and prayers and words of thousands of lives.

In the center of the Courtyard is a garden. At the four corners of the garden are four small mounds of what looks like dirt. After a moment, I realize that they are ashes.

At the center is probably the most disturbing image I have ever seen. A large mound of hearts is stacked in a pyramid formation in the center of what might have been a garden once, but now is just a barren patch of dirt. The pyramid is at least as tall as I am and at least as wide. Most of the hearts are too small to be human
—
chicken hearts, probably, as Veronica said, but some of them look suspiciously humanoid. The most awful thing about it isn’t the gruesome aesthetic or the sheer amount of broken lives or the strange way in which all the hearts are preserved to seem like they have just been cut out of a living body, but the fact that in a strange trick of the light, the entire pyramid seems to be pulsating, almost as if it is still alive.

That is all that’s left of the lives taken for this gruesome monument. A pile of hearts and a mound of ash.

I shudder again and decide that no matter how I die, I can’t ever let my heart be added to a giant mound, let my entire life be turned into an echo absorbed by a wall. This is different from the complex desire to live because your life might still need something. This is a primal need to survive and to continue, no matter what continuing means.

“Him first,” the Priest’s gruff voice interrupts my thoughts. He takes Drew’s arm, pulling him from James’ grip, and pushes him to the ground. Drew stumbles to his knees in front of the priest and I see his lips mutter one short incomplete phrase.

“In the end...” I remember the Sternmenschen codes and wonder if that’s what he’s thinking of right now. Or perhaps it’s a strange sort of prayer, a plea to an unknown God to help in the last dying moments.

One of the priests procures a large metal bowl, for collecting blood, I think, or perhaps to put the heart into. The other takes out a large curved knife in an elaborate sheath. Both of them turn to Drew and begin to recite what sounds like a strange chant. After some time, I begin to understand the words.

“We make this sacrifice today to pay our dues...” they say in unison. Smaller Sally looks at us. Everybody is ready to attack, taking advantage of their turned backs. She nods and we instantly pull out our weapons and pounce on the Carviates, Smaller Sally and I on one, James and Veronica on the other. In a rush of pure adrenaline, I stab my Carviate in the right shoulder. It’s not a fatal wound, not that I wished to inflict one, but it is damaging nevertheless.

To my surprise, the Carviate doesn’t cry out, only grunts in surprise and turns around. He grabs my arm. I notice for the first time how large he is. He’s probably a foot taller and twice my weight and his hand wraps around my arm with an entire knuckle to spare.

I exclaim in pain. Luckily, he grabbed the hand that wasn’t holding the knife. I stab him straight in the center of his palm just as Smaller Sally kicks him in the head. The two combined blows cause him to release my arm and step back a little. We take advantage of his unstable position to step forward and deliver another blow each. This is the priest that had the large knife. He begins to unsheath it, but a split second before he can, we react; if he takes out the knife, we’re all dead. Smaller Sally kicks him in the ribs and shoots a dart with deadly accuracy straight into his eye. The pain of that shot causes him to cry out for the first time and release his grip on the knife. I snatch it out of his hands before his fingers can retighten. Smaller Sally pushes him down. I take his foot out from underneath him and he falls to the floor. I hit his head with the hilt of the knife several times, making sure he is unconscious. Relatively at the same time, James hits the other Carviate with the metal bowl and he falls cold to the ground.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Veronica says in disbelief.

“Me neither,” Smaller Sally responds. “Not let’s get out of here before they wake up.” Drew puts his arm around James, dragging his leg, and we run out of the Courtyard without closing the doors. They can probably open the doors faster than we can close them.

Our footsteps are uncomfortably loud in the stone part of the building and uncomfortably out of place in the glass part. We run out of the sacrificial building and out onto the streets. There are still very few people up and the sun is only just beginning to rise, but we keep to the shadows and avoid the early pedestrians. We head to the closest part of the wall.

“I really hope our snowmobiles are still there,” Smaller Sally mumbles on the way. “Otherwise, we’re really screwed.” We take out our grappling hooks and throw them over the wall.

“What are we doing with Drew?” James asks.

“Um... all right. The three of us will go first,” she gestures to herself, me and Veronica. “You’ll tie one of the ropes around Drew and we’ll pull him up while you’ll go yourself.”

“Will it support his weight?”

“I guess we’ll find out. Now hurry up before somebody notices our absence.” I hand the end of the rope to Veronica but she declines it.

“After you.” I roll my eyes and begin to climb. When I reach the top of the wall, I let go of the rope and look down to make sure Veronica is climbing. Meanwhile, James ties the rope around Drew, knotting it several times to make sure it holds.

“This isn’t gonna be pleasant for Drew,” I say.

“No,” Smaller Sally agrees. “It isn’t.”

A little before Veronica arrives at the top, James gives us a thumbs up and we begin to pull Drew up. He tries to help us along with his able leg. Once Veronica comes, she adds her strength and we continue to pull him up, faster, now that we have extra muscle power. James begins to climb on Veronica’s abandoned rope, often looking behind him to make sure that there is no pursuit. I look at the city as well, and, to my relief, there is none. James arrives and pulls up his rope as we pull Drew up in a final burst of power.

“Now to the other side,” Smaller Sally says. “James, you and Drew first.” We begin to lower Drew as James begins his descent. When he drops down, James begin to untie Drew. Veronica takes the other rope and begins to climb down. Smaller Sally and I exchange a look.
It’s almost over.
When Drew is untied and Veronica on the ground, the two of us begin to climb down. The entire operation is carried out wordlessly.

Finally, all of us are safe on the ground. James takes Drew on his back again and Smaller Sally utters one word.

“North.” We begin to stumble North while I try to remember where the snowmobiles are. I begin to recognize the woods from yesterday. After fifteen minutes we stop and I see the suspicious piles of foliage that were meant to hide our snowmobiles.

“Thank goodness,” Smaller Sally says. “Veronica, go with Molly. James, take Drew and come with me.” We brush off the snowmobiles.

“Hold on,” I say as Veronica sits down behind me and start the snowmobile. It gives a little jolt and we take off. I don’t dare to even breath properly for ten minutes, until I’m sure that we’re not being pursued. When we finally go far enough away to be sure we’re not being followed, I laugh in relief.

“Oh my God, it worked!” I feel Veronica relax her grip on my jacket and I can tell that she’s relieved despite herself. We continue riding for another half hour before I hear James’ shout.

“Guys, we need to stop.” Smaller Sally and I pull to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“It’s Drew. He just coughed up more blood.”

James picks up Drew and puts him on the ground. Drew is unnaturally still and slightly purple. He coughs again and more blood comes up.

“Christ, Drew,” Veronica says.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Drew says weakly.

“Does anybody here know what to do?” James asks urgently.

“Molly, your mum was a doctor, yes? Didn’t you say that you know basic medicine?”

“Well, I…” I sputter. “I mean, yes, but no, and we need a powerful antibiotic. You said he has an infection. And I honestly doubt that that will work at this point, he’s gone too far.”

“Do something,” Veronica tells me.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” I shout in exasperation. “Alright, alright, fine. But you three keep your brains on as well. Where’s his infection?” James pulls up Drew’s pant leg. I bite my lip. His knee is swollen, splattered with every color of the rainbow, and bleeding.

“Oh, wow,” I say.

“Do you need to amputate it?” James asks.

“Are you serious?” I snap at him. “Do you even know what an amputation is? We’re in the middle of the woods, he would never survive that. Alright. Wow. Okay, um...we need an antibiotic. If we’re very lucky, I might have that. Does anybody have any alcohol? I’m going to sanitize his wound first and he should drink some. It’ll help ease the pain.”

“I do,” James says pulling a small container from his waist. “Is rum okay?”

“Rum is perfect. See right here where it’s bleeding? Pour it over that.”

“Okay,” He pours out a third of the contents of the container. Drew groans. I touch his forehead.

“He’s dangerously warm. Somebody get a cold rag or something, anything cold. There’s a stream nearby. Just follow the sound of the water A wet rag would be perfect.” James disappears to fulfil my request. I dig through the pack that my mother gave me upon my parting. Medical bandage, painkiller, several bags of herbs and a small bottle and tube tied together. I turn it over to read the labels ANTIBIOTICS EXTERNAL USE, it says in her handwriting on the bottle and ANTIBIOTICS INTERNAL USE on the tube.

“Thank goodness,” I mutter to the bottles. “You two might help me save a life.”

I pull out the antibiotics and two painkillers. I know that you shouldn’t take more than the recommended dose, but Drew is about to be in more than the recommended amount of pain.

“Here, take this. It’s a pain killer. Drink some rum too.”

Drew obliges. At this point James returns with his sweater dipped in water. He ties it around Drew’s head at my command.