Flare (40 page)

“Sent word back to Nebuchadnezzar, he sent word back that the place was cursed and best be left alone, so they just kept up the siege. Sent another ninja to spy, but gave him specific instructions just to take a quick gander over the walls without seein’
too
much, ya’ know what I’m sayin’? Any case, took another four months for all the activity to die down, and then there was silence. Just silence.

“A coupla Nebuchadnezzar’s warriors scaled the walls and opened the gates from the inside, let the army march in. They were on guard, but there was nothin’ inside, just silence. They marched and marched, popped open every door, cleared every room, just nothin’ until …”

Legion laughed a little bit to himself.

“They found one Ramm dude, sittin’ all by hisself in a warehouse. Crazy look in his eyes, a pile of corpses beneath. Just sittin’ cross-legged on a sea of dead bodies, shit-eatin’ grin on his face, showin’ off blood-stained teeth.”

Legion laughed again, but drily.

“Last one left,” he said. “When everyone starts eatin’ each other, in time there’s gonna only be one brother left. Even Nebuchadnezzar hisself was impressed, and they ordered this dude brought in unharmed, so they could keep him like a huntin’ trophy. Problem was, this guy didn’t want to be caught and took down four soldiers and one ninja before he was caged, bitin’ ’em in the neck and then movin’ on to the next one.

“They still brought him back to Nebuchadnezzar, but he wasn’t much of a trophy. Just an ornery motherfucker who snarled and cursed and spat at everything that came near. They fed him meat and he lived out the rest of his days in a Babylonian cage, but he never regained his sanity, if he had any to begin with. No one ever knew what happened inside that place in those last months, and no one really cared to find out. They got the city, and learned that when you lay siege to a town of goatherders, nightmares come to life.”

Legion took another drink and smiled. It wasn’t the broad grin that he had shown previously, but it was enough to ease the tension in the room.

“Lest you forget, we got another city in this parable,” he said. “Jawadh, the port to the south. You might think that some
Ramm
-level shit was gonna go down there too, because it’s a port town, filled with pirates, thieves and other skulduggerous,
unsavory
brothers. And I wouldn’t blame you for thinkin’ that neither, ’cause Nebuchadnezzar’s people thought the same thing, so they kept a tight blockade on the bay, and a tighter siege on the land side. Instructions were clear: wait it out, and do
not go in that bitch under any circumstances.

“So the blockade of Jawadh just sat there, and sat … and sat. Month after month. Commanders sendin’ the same message back to Nebuchadnezzar, time and time again:
ain’t shit happen last month, ain’t shit happenin’ this month.

“So … they get another Babylon ninja, an amphibious brother who’s gonna swim in they port and just spy hisself in under the cover of darkness. So he swims in, one day later swims out, eyes as white as the moon is now, and a jaw slack as a motherfucker.

“They ask him what he saw, and he told ’em what he saw: ‘
fat men, and they was dancin’
.’”

Legion laughed, not joyfully, but less drily than he had before.

“This guy saw food on people’s tables, alcohol flowin’ left and right, drunk dudes on the street gigglin’ and shittin’ theyselves, hell, people havin’ orgies right there in the pubs. You ain’t supposed to see a single fat man after a few months’ blockade, and this ninja saw ’em left and right. So I ask you, black brother, how did the city of Jawadh fare so well under this siege?”

Zeke had no answer. Legion didn’t seem to be expecting one, so he sat back and scratched his prodigious belly.

“Remember how I said that Jawadh was filled with
pirates and thieves
? Well, in a blockade, thievin’ pirates easily turn theyselves into
smugglers
, and they started smugglin’ on day
one
of Nebuchadnezzar’s siege. Sneakin’ out through the port late at night, comin’ back with a casket of wine. Find a hidden stream the next day, bring in a boat of meat from somewhere. Dig a tunnel on the land side, and that’s when shit really starts comin’ in.

“These guys had a whole supply route mapped out, and Nebuchadnezzar’s enemies was happy to fill it up. They brought in booze, food, supplies, hell, they even brought in a big box and opened it up to find it filled with prostitutes. It was a
party
, twenty-four seven, all the while Nebuchadnezzar’s men sat on they asses out at sea, givin’ word back to the boss that ain’t nothin’ was happenin’, night after night, month after month.

“So word gets back to Nebuchadnezzar, and the generals are quakin’ in they boots, cause lettin’ smugglers leak out durin’ a siege is a capital offense. But Nebuchadnezzar lets it slide. Not ’cause he was nice, ’cause no one was nice back then. He was embarrassed that he tried to attack a smuggler’s den in the first place, and wanted to pretend the whole thing never happened.

“So the army left, and that was they legacy of two years. Noble Qut in the west quickly eviscerated, devious Ramm in the north holding out, but still dead in the end, and smuggling Jawadh in the south, better off than it ever was.”

/***/

Legion took another sip of wine and then grinned, his teeth stained red.

“This is forgotten history, son, but it’s important because it’s a parable,” said Legion. “And that means it’s relevant as
fuck
today, better believe that shit.”

Lilith brought him another bottle of wine. The top was covered with duct tape, and she peeled it off before pouring him a glass. She offered a glass to Zeke, but Legion waved her away.

“This one don’t drink, girl,” said Legion. “This one special.”

Legion smiled.

“So how is a tale of Babylonian sieges nigh on three millennia ago relevant to what we got today?”

Legion waited for Zeke to respond, most likely only for the effect.

“Well, most of our current world was like the boys from Qut, runnin’ out to face the sun, protectin’ they loved ones, dyin’ nobly and whatnot. They all gone. There might be a castle out somewhere holdin’ out and keepin’ on with they family values, but they gonna get kilt, get burnt, just a matter of time.”

Legion sipped his wine.

“This flare is like Nebuchadnezzar times a thousand, and this flare won’t end. Ya’ can’t just wait for the king to collapse of old age, not this time, no sir. So all the good Qut boys gonna die, one by one, leavin’ this world with they dignity, but with no one left to remember that they deep-fried remains were once filled with honor.”

Legion pointed at the fighting pit, but Zeke didn’t care to have another look.

“Then you got Ramm down there,” said Legion. “Humanity starved so bad that it begins to devour itself—term is
anthropophagy
, and it happens every time a crisis hits. I don’t know why we do it, but I do know it’s the natural order of things, and it keeps us alive for another few months. But like Ramm itself, our collective won’t last forever either. Soon those pit fighters gonna run outta people to kill, soon they gonna run outta captives, and soon they gonna start eatin’ one another ’til everyone’s gone ’cept for one man. My money’s on our boy Scox to be the brother that outlasts the rest of us.”

Legion’s cigar had burnt out, and he pointed the stubbed end at the fighting pit below.

“This shit’s gonna keep us alive for some time,” he said. “But the great sun Nebuchadnezzar’s layin’ a siege on us from above, and we’ll crumble in time, believe that.”

Legion stared at Zeke, and both the candles and the faint glow of the fighting pit were reflected in his dark glasses.

“But maybe they
is
a way out of this, if only we act like them pirates of Jawadh,” said Legion. “Maybe if we
break
the siege, we can
free ourselves
from this depravity. Ya’ understand this sentiment, brother?”

Zeke had no answer. Legion took another sip of wine, not expecting one.

“At any other time, the
smuggler
is the lowest of the low, the rat that lives in your basement and steals your food while you sleep. But durin’ times such as these, a smuggler is a
savior
, the one that leads his people to the Promised Land. No matter how bad it gets, no matter how fierce the enemy, a good smuggler can break any siege, from Nebuchadnezzar’s army all the way to a burning sun. Believe that. And
now
, my black mute brother, we come to
you
.”

Legion smiled at Zeke as if he were a proud father.
He believes in what he says,
thought Zeke.
But I still don’t trust him. Not one bit.

“You ever considered your place in this world, son?” asked Legion. “Wanderin’ around, never seem to get hurt, livin’ day after day while those around you get burnt? You ever thought about your role in this world, what you were meant to do?”

I have.
But I can’t nod, and I can’t succumb to this man’s charms, no matter how charismatic he might be.

“We got your answer in here,” said Legion, patting the Scarred Bible. “It says one like yourself will come to this land and lead us all to freedom.”

Legion took Zeke’s arms in his hands, pure blackness set against the darkest brown. Legion took a match from his pocket, struck it against the side of the box and relit his cigar. He blew the match out and held it in his hands, smoking and burnt, singed completely. Legion then set the burnt matchstick against Zeke’s arm; it sat there smoldering, and its color was indistinguishable from Zeke’s skin.

“We call our savior the
charred one
,” said Legion. “You are him, the one so dark he can fight the sun, because
that which hath been burnt once, cannot be burnt again
. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

Zeke understood but didn’t respond.
I’ve seen men burnt once in your cages.
And it’s not a pretty sight.

“In our canon, the charred one will act as the smuggler, and hence the siege-breaker, the one who will bring a future to our people. He will
travel in the night like a thief, and find the undiscovered bounty, that which is worth more than gold.
This is
you
brother, blacker than black, silent as a stone, strong as night and stayin’ with us twice as long. It’s
you
, charred one, it’s
you
leadin’ us outta this mess.”

Legion took a puff from his cigar and grinned broadly.

“But enough parables,” he said. “Enough scripture, enough allegory. Let me tell you what you can do, and what you gotta do.”

/***/

Legion took a drink of wine and stood up, puffed his cigar and looked down at the pit.

“First of all, we gotta be clear that the charred one ain’t immortal,” said Legion. “Don’t go thinking you
stronger
than the sun, ’cause you ain’t. If you walk out at noon you’ll die just the same, only it’ll take you a stretch longer than the average man. But you are special, and you survived us puttin’ your legs outta them holes without a scratch.”

Legion took another puff from his cigar, and the smoke floated gently through the unmoving air towards Zeke.

“We didn’t put your legs out at noon, because that would have killed you, charred one, savior, smuggler or whatever,” said Legion. “We put you out at sunset.”

Legion looked at Zeke and puffed his cigar again.

“But still, that was enough to tear a man’s flesh off,” said Legion. “And it didn’t do nothin’ to you.”

Legion nodded again.

“I figure you honestly can take about ten percent of this sun, and though it doesn’t seem like much, it’s ten percent more than any of us can take. It’s a crack in this thing, just a crack, but that’s all a smuggler needs, ya’ feel me? Get out, snatch the goods, and lead us outta this mess. Do ya’ feel me, brother? Do ya’ understand what I’m sayin’?”

Zeke still didn’t trust him but understood what he was saying, so he nodded.

“Good,” said Legion. “So here’s what you gotta do for your first mission as smuggler. We think there’s another settlement a few days from here, got provisions and supplies for years, maybe more. Problem is, it’s deep in the forest, or whatever it is out there now. We got an old truck for you, and outfitted it to push out the sun, but the last part is rough terrain and you gotta walk, then climb a little cliff. Real rough terrain, kind you gotta navigate just a bit with some daylight. Find the path in the mornin’, ’cause you can still take a little sun, then take the shelter over the hill. Go at sunrise, because if you go at sunset you’ll get stuck out there in the darkness, prob’ly fall off the cliff in the night and break your legs.

“There’s shelter over the hill, don’t you worry about that. We found the place on an old map, so we sent a group out there and they haven’t come back. We need you to go there, and if it’s as good as we think it is, we need you to map it out while the mornin’ sun shows you what it really looks like. Tell us how to get over that cliff so we can start a supply chain, bring these people in the fightin’ pit below out of this mess. They won’t fight each other if they got a future comin’ in, ya’ understand? I’m just askin’ you to map out this new territory—smuggle
information
, as it were. Will you do this for us?”