The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two (32 page)

It was a trap! The Marquis was in on it. But
why attack them openly? He quickly saw the plan: gun Felon down in
the observation booth and murder the others while they were
distracted at the table—it was stupid, amateur—and it almost
worked. Its sheer simplicity might have been the key. Felon was
expecting something malignant and premeditated. Or whoever made the
decision didn’t care if it worked. Was it played out to delay or
distract them? A jolt of adrenaline caught his breath.

Footsteps, running, coming from the direction
of the dining room were followed by the clatter of a machine
weapons. Then a squat heavy-limbed shape lurched into view. Like a
dwarf with cow’s hooves for feet, and long frog-like hands, the
Eyesore moved with incredible agility. Its face expressed human
surprise as Felon put a bullet in its eye. The thing dropped like a
bag of gravel.

The assassin hurried forward into a haze of
gun smoke. He could see ahead that the hall turned toward the
dining room. There was another Eyesore and a man crouched, taking
shelter. The wall opposite the entrance was peppered with bullet
holes.

Felon shot the Eyesore twice. The plume of
brains and skull bone alerted the man who heaved his autoshotgun
around, but the wall behind him exploded, was ripped to pieces by
the heavy caliber weapons inside. The man’s ribcage blew open and
outward and he hit the carpet seconds after his guts.

Felon moved forward just as Bloody stepped
into hall. The big gunman had a couple of ragged furrows cut into
his left temple by bullets. He turned his sunglasses to Felon but
his expression was unreadable. He swung the .45 at him. The
assassin did not hesitate. He lifted his gun, hoping it would be
strong enough to drop the gunman—blind him, hoping his Kevlar vest
would stop the big bullets because Bloody fired twice.

And missed. Felon had dropped to a crouch and
was ready to fire, when something heavy hit the ground behind him.
He rolled across the carpet—gun still centered on Bloody’s face,
and got an angle where he could see two dead Eyesores. They’d come
out of one of the Marquis’ damn pocket doors. It was open behind
them. Their heads were ruined messes.

Felon looked at Bloody who watched him
reload.

“The woman!” Felon allowed some emotion into
his voice. He ran toward the basement. Bloody followed
reloading.

44 – Orientation

It was late afternoon and the other forever
kids were away at lessons. Dawn wondered why they hadn’t taken her
along, but there was so much to get used to—there was no point
getting worked up over that too. She’d spent the time napping. The
angry boy, Larry, had really given her a scare so she barely got
any sleep her first night.

She did find other kids who were nice and
even apologetic for Larry. While it was good to know that she might
have friends in the Orphanage, Dawn had no intention of staying.
The friendly kids had asked where she came from and who Mr. Jay
was, but the grownup voice in her head took charge and told her to
keep quiet about all that for now. Luckily, Meg shooed the
inquisitive children away; saying Dawn needed time to adjust.

She was just wondering where Mr. Jay might
be, when one of the dead childcare workers came over to her. There
were lots of the workers in the Dormitory, and even though they
were kind, the forever girl was unnerved to discover that they
spent the whole night sitting quietly in chairs along the Dormitory
walls.

“I am Frances,” the woman said. She was tall
with straight brown hair, wore a print dress and flat-soled shoes.
“The Principal wants to see you in his office.”

Dawn felt queerly out of step, looking down
at her simple nightshirt and slippers. It was all any of them had
to wear. She shrugged and followed the dead woman between the rows
of beds, through the Dormitory doors and into the hall. The worker
turned to the left and led Dawn past two junctions where halls
overlapped.

The floors were cement, and like the walls
had a dirty look to them; though there were clear paths worn in the
grime where the children walked. Overhead fluorescent lights
flickered. Many were burned out or had gone dim. There were double
doors leading off the hall left and right and on occasion, Dawn
heard forever children singing or reciting stories.

At the end of the hall, Frances paused by a
door with “Principal” painted on the inset window. Dawn glanced at
the dead woman, a sudden shiver of fear curled her toes and then
she remembered what Mr. Jay would say: “Worry about what
happens
, not what
might
happen,”

And with that small boost to her courage she
left Frances in the hall, pushed past the door and into an open
office space. There was a big desk with an older dead woman behind
it. She was tapping on an ancient iron machine with paper rolling
out the back. The woman looked up from her work and nodded to
another door inside that was half open. Dawn made her way
hesitantly across the room. She slowed long enough to peek to her
right. There were only two long couches there, and a
wastebasket.

She stopped at the door and took another big
breath. “
Be careful
,” said her inner voice. “Remember how to
get
out
of
in
.”

And she pushed the door aside.

There was a desk on a brown carpet. There was
a chair on her side of the desk. There was a book on the desk.
There was a man in a chair on the far side of the desk. There was
an empty bookcase behind him. There was a picture of a man on one
wall. There was a large map on the other. The man at the desk
looked up, pen in hand and smiled over his notes. He had glasses
and a long head, jaw and nose. His hair was combed flat over his
skull. He wore a neat brown suit and was long-limbed. He half-rose
from his seat and nodded at the chair across from him. He smiled,
sat and watched her sit. When she was settled, he looked her up and
down and then he cleared his throat.

“I am the Principal. Welcome,” the Principal
said with flat even tones. “I wanted to see you, Dawn, after the
other children had finished their lessons. Your lack of knowledge
regarding our system here might have caused a disruption. And that
wouldn’t be fair.”

He cleared his throat and opened a file in
front of him. “Dawn. You say you haven’t got a last name. And you
say your pre-Change age is six.” He looked over the rim of his
glasses and smirked. “You’re visiting the City of Light for the
first time. Have had no formal education and you were on Zero
having wandered there from the wilderness and some town called,
Severance, where you say there are other survivors.”

Dawn nodded silently, remembering the
questionnaire given to her by a dead childcare worker.

“Now, Dawn, I think it’s important for you to
know that you’ve been brought to Archangel Tower and are going to
be cared for in the Prime’s Orphanage for a period of time
determined by myself, and the Prime. He is interested in the
welfare of all citizens of Westprime, especially those who cannot
care for themselves.” He smiled. “You will have health care, and be
provided the basics, as well as education. I’ll be in charge of
that.” He dragged the book on the desk over and folded his hands on
it.

“After some testing you’ll be assigned to an
appropriate grade where you’ll be taught the three ‘R’s’ by a
handpicked staff of dead teachers in the Prime’s employ.” The
Principal frowned at Dawn’s worried look. “Other lessons will be in
municipal politics. There will also be a period set aside each day
for social readjustment.” He smiled reassuringly. “The Change has
left so many of us adrift, the Prime feels obligated to teach
orphans and other foundlings the true history of Westprime and its
leader.”

“You have to let me go,” Dawn pleaded,
leaning forward in her chair. Her toes barely touched the ground.
“I didn’t do anything to you.”

“But what have you done for yourself?” the
Principal countered. “Wandering the lands, hiding in dangerous
places, with no direction. No sense of purpose. Very little in the
way of resources, like vermin living off the country’s wealth, and
open to molestation from any number of criminal organizations.” He
shook his head. “We had to help you.”

“But you didn’t help!” Dawn’s hands curled
into fists. “Those things, those Toffers and their dogs attacked
us.”

“
Us
?” the Principal sniffed as he
adjusted his glasses. “Do you mean to tell me, you count yourself
one of that ragtag group of delinquents?” He stood suddenly,
sliding a handkerchief out of his pocket. His right hand still
clutched the old book. He clamped it in his left armpit as he
unfolded the cloth. The man’s head almost touched the ceiling. His
jacket was dark with perspiration.

“The air conditioning broke down,” he said
self-consciously. “Always the budget cuts in education.” The
Principal walked over to the framed picture of a fat man. The
painted hair was brown and white and the eyes were piercing. He
wore a moustache over a serious smile.

“Anything for the Prime,” the Principal
chanted quietly, and dusted the lower portion of the picture frame
with his handkerchief. “He protects us.”

“I
have
someone to protect me,” Dawn
blurted out and then regretted it when a gleam appeared in the
Principal’s eye.

“
Someone
?” he breathed the word,
nodding. “And who is this
someone
?”

“I mean, nobody,” Dawn struggled to recover.
“I mean the kids.”

“That!” the Principal shouted, pointing a
sharp finger at her, “is exactly why a child must have education.”
He lashed the air with the finger and then paced toward his desk,
eyes burning at the forever girl.

“Truth! Facts! Justice! The Prime!” He leaned
forward. The veins stood out on his hands. “You enter
his
house. You accept the Prime’s generosity! And you lie?” He shook
his head and stormed around the desk, leaning in sharply. Dawn
could see the muscles bunching at his jaws, saw the heavy enamel of
his teeth, and noticed a stench of coal and smoke on his
breath.

“I won’t have it. This school won’t have it!
The Prime won’t have it!” He slapped his thighs and leaned in
deeper. “You tell the truth here!”

Dawn was crowded back in her chair. Her inner
voice was a constant cry of:
Run
!
Run
!
Run
!
But the Principal’s anger was hypnotic. His eyes were gold where
everyone else’s was white. And the pupils were stiff black
lines.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking away into her
lap. “I’m scared.”

And the Principal’s attitude shifted and
drooped, forced him down on a knee in front of her. “Well, that’s
the truth, isn’t it, my dear?” He stroked her chin with a
long-fingered hand. It was hot. “So much is different.”

“Yes sir,” she mumbled, kneading her fingers.
“I only got scared.”

“Understandable,” he chuckled and stroked her
knees. “So much has changed since you started traveling with your
friend… Uh, what was his name again, dear?”

“Gregory,” Dawn said, eyes down in her lap.
“
Gregory
. A hunter.”

The Principal’s breath blew out in a steady
quiet stream before he stood up. Then he watched Dawn for a few
seconds before turning on a heel and walking back to his desk.
There was a small box on it. He flicked a switch and said to Dawn:
“What was the name of the worker who brought you here?” The
Principal saw her confused look. “From the Dormitory.”

Dawn was frightened by his expression, but
she couldn’t decide what was best to do—no time to think. “Um,” she
breathed, “Frances?”

The Principal smiled: “Not Gregory?” And then
grinning, he spoke into the box. “Mrs. Camp, could you please send
Frances in?”

He stood up and leaned against the desk, his
long legs out in front of him. He watched the door. Moments later
the knob rattled and it swung open. Frances entered. Her dead
features were composed.

“Ah, Frances,” the Principal clapped his
hands. “Please come here.”

The dead woman walked over to him, her
shoulders rounded and head hanging as Dawn had seen the other dead
workers move.

“How’ve things been going, Frances?” he
asked, reaching out a large hand and patting her shoulder.

“Very well…” Frances started but her voice
was stopped when the Principal’s throttling hand closed on her
throat. She made a garbled noise and clasped the man’s wrists.

He smiled, stood straight and held his arms
out. His eyes never left Dawn. Frances continued to struggle
weakly, but didn’t have the strength to break free. The Principal
drew in a big breath and set a big foot across the toes of the dead
woman’s shoes. With a wrench and a twist and a crunching noise, he
pulled Frances’ head off.

The dead woman’s body continued to slap at
his wrists, but he easily nudged it away with an elbow. The
Principal hunched forward, his large nose and face pointed upward.
The bones of his skull jutted out against the gray skin. His dark
eyes suddenly all pupils, looked away with occasional reptilian
glimpses at Dawn and Frances’ flailing body.

Dawn’s mind was blank with terror as the
Principal carried Frances’ head over and dropped it in her lap. She
reacted reflexively when the dead woman’s eyes blinked at her. Dawn
wriggled away from it. The head rolled onto the floor and under her
chair.

The Principal hissed. “You get out of my
office and think about what you’ve done. I’ll ask you next time who
you traveled with, and if you lie, it will be one of your friends
in the Dormitory who suffers Frances’ fate.”

Dawn clapped her hands over her eyes. There
was a noisy breaking sound as Frances’ body stumbled into a cabinet
and knocked over a pitcher of water. The Principal sighed and
walked back to his desk.