The War for Mare (The Fall of Man Book 3) (7 page)

Snake reached back and smacked me in the
gut. “Way to show your lack of appreciation… again.” Snake turned
to the man. “We will gladly and humbly along with being
appreciative, accept your help.” He then gave a side eyed look at
me.

Was Snake playing into this man’s delusion?
Or did he actually believe this man that there were people around
people. People? What, they were all shoved in that little building?
Because we were headed that way.

With the wave of his hand the man let us
into the shack. The building was a single room with a bed, a desk,
a dresser, and a tiny table. Once inside, Burt shut the door.

“Welcome to Hopeland,” he said.

I placed my hands on my hips and nodded in a
pacifying, yet polite manner. “Wow. It is very nice, this hope
land.”

Burt laughed and shook his head. “Aren’t you
just a little sarcastic pip?” He walked to the corner of the room
where there was a door that looked like a closet. “This ain’t
Hopeland,” Burt said. “It’s below.” He opened the door and exposed
a stairwell. “Elevator’s one flight down. Let’s go. Close the door
behind you.”

I was hesitant in moving. Not because I was
fearful, but because I was in shock.

Again, Snake nudged me. “There you go. Mr.
Negativity. Let’s go. You should feel ashamed of yourself, for
thinking the man was whack.” I stood on the top landing that led
down a concrete encased stairwell.

I was more than ashamed for not believing
Burt, I was in awe. My entire existence had been spent in the ruins
of what once was a grand city, planning and plotting the demise of
the beings that sought to destroy our world. I was as one track
minded as everyone else. And unlike everyone else, I was fast
learning and absorbing the fact that there was actually more to the
world than just Angeles City.

Television was an
addiction, of that I was certain. I knew addiction. A problem in
the Ancient City was many Ancients would sell their soul for a drop
of honey, which gave them a euphoric high. Dabbling and trying
honey once or twice in a lifetime was normal, but it was highly
addictive, and in large doses was deadly to an Ancient.

Very few things were deadly to us.

Ancients didn’t catch the common cold that
humans caught, and I wasn’t looking forward to that in my human
body. We did however, have our own viruses that caused not only
weakness, but deformity. We could be slain, if wounded in the
correct manner.

Horse blood brought a painful death… and
honey in high doses.

Human dealers hoarded honey. Many Ancients
looked for it in old markets because they heard it did not go bad.
But the savvy humans knew of the Ancients’ love for the quick and
intense high. They pushed it and so many Ancients were on the
streets, pathetic and trembling because they developed a need for
it.

“Do you have any? Do you have any honey?
Just a drop.”

It was insane.

I felt that same drive and addiction toward
the television and the programs I enjoyed. Davis said I was stuck
in the seventies. I didn’t know what that meant, but I was quite
content to be there. Until he started playing that magical
instrument.

Not only did he create a beautiful sound,
his voice was magnetic, drawing me in. I started singing along,
even though I didn’t know the words. I always had a lovely voice. I
hummed and hit high notes, and stayed in a neutral pattern of
melodic, doo, doo doo until Davis stopped me. Was he… laughing?

“What is so funny?” I asked. “I was singing
with you.”

“Is that what you were doing? Singing?”

“Yes.”

“Stop.”

I gasped. “Why? I have been told I have a
lovely voice.”

“A strange voice. Ever hear of cats?”

“Yes. They are a strange delicacy, enjoyed
by many back in the day.”

“Back in the day?” he placed down his
instrument, a guitar he called it. “What day? None that I know
of.”

“Well, the starving days,” I said, quickly
trying to cover. “When the world went to… disarray.”

“People ate cats?” Davis shook his head and
lifted his guitar. “That’s just sick.”

“You have a wonderful voice. You should be
an entertainer.”

He chuckled. “I was.”

“Are.”

“Am, but I was a really big one at one
time.”

“Like David Cassidy?”

“Uh, yeah, something like that. If I didn’t
see you watching
The Partridge Family
so much, I’d wonder
how you knew that.”

“That Danny Partridge,” I said. “He is
something. Very misunderstood.”

“You like the antagonists I noticed,” he
said. “Nelly Oleson, Danny Partridge, Mrs. Kravitz.”

I giggled. “Is she not charming?”

“No,” Davis said.

“I feel a kinship to them,” I said.

“I bet.”

“Endora reminds me of my own mother.”

“Endora?”

“The mother of the
Bewitched
person.
She watches out for her daughter.”

“So your mother wasn’t a nice person?”

“She could be.” I pulled a chair closer to
Davis. “Play some more.”

“You need to learn.”

“I am. What song do you want me to
learn?”

“That’s not what I mean,” he said. “At the
rate you’re grasping things, we’ll be down in this bunker for
months.”

Months?
Months below with this Davis
person? I wondered if I could draw him in, bound him with my
charms.

I tilted my head and smiled. “Would you like
that?”

“What? Being down here for months with
you?”

“Yes.” I felt my face flush.

“Um… no.” He shook his head.

What was that feeling? A lump. Yes, it felt
like a lump. It made a flip in my chest and sunk to my gut.
Suddenly I felt sad, as if I wanted to run from the room. “Why
not?”

He started to reply, but stopped and asked,
“Did you hit your head?”

“When?”

“A while back?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“Because you have no recollection of life
before the Events. Not to sound insulting, but the Events only
happened fifteen years ago. You should have been old enough to
remember everything.”

“Old enough?”

“Yeah, not saying you’re old but you aren’t
young.”

I heaved in a huge breath. “Old? How old do
you think I look?”

“Um, late forties.”

I screamed.

He cringed.

“I’m an elder. Oh my Gods!” I stood. “I am
at the age to be placed out into Ancient Pasture.”

He smiled. “Killed.”

“What?”

“They kill the elders.”

“They do not. They take them to a nice place
to live out their existence.”

“That’s what they tell you folks at the
Straits. But the Ancients kill the old people.”

I gasped loudly. “An elder, whether Ancient
or human, deserves respect. Human Elders are not killed. They are
taken care of. Placed in a nice home.”

Davis shook his head. “You are so
naïve.”

“How dare you? You are naïve to believe the
Ancients kill the elders.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“I’ve been told.”

“Yes, well I have seen the place. It’s in
the Ancient City, a beautiful complex….” It was at that second I
realized my error and knew my mind had better start thinking.

Davis slowly lifted his eyes to me. “You’ve
seen the place?”

I lifted my head and cleared my throat.
“Yes.”

“In the Ancient City?”

“Yes.”

“You were there?”

“I… I was a house maiden for years.”

“So you know where it is?”

“Of course.”

He set down his guitar and jumped up. “Yes!”
Then Davis charged my way.

Admittedly, I was frightened, I back up
until he grabbed on to me and embraced me.

“Madge!” he said excitedly. “You are fast
becoming my favorite person. Do you know how long we have been
searching for Ancient City?”

I wanted to pull back, but instantly, I
realized how good the embrace felt. He clutched tight, and I took
advantage of my position, my arms went tight around his waist, I
placed my cheek against his firm chest, and closed my eyes with
what I would guess was the silliest of grins. But I didn’t care. I
liked it.

In his arms, something came over me. A spell
of sorts, because before I knew it, I was spewing forth, “If that
made you happy, wait until you hear what else I know.”

And sadly I was a victim, helpless, and like
one of those honey addicts. I would do or say anything to get a bit
more of Davis.

Transportation was
provided and Iry and I were taken back to his home. No more was
said, only that the king would be with us shortly.

Iry insisted that I rested and he would
ensure my safety. I didn’t feel tired at all, even though I knew I
had been up for two days.

Finally, while waiting on the king to
arrive, I fell fast asleep.

Sophie woke me in a few hours and I gave me
some of that brown substance Susan use to make.

Susan.

How I had trusted her. Iry had trusted her.
For how long did she do Nito’s dirty work? Was it a new thing? A
promise perhaps that she made the former princess?

Admittedly, I was a bit edgy and snippy with
Iry. I did not understand why Susan had said that we would be
attacked, I tell of my vision, and then suddenly nothing more was
said.

“He has a plan,” Iry stated.

“The king? Please, Iry. He shuffled us out.
Susan takes from my blood, I tell of what I saw, she speaks of an
attack and the king—”

“Shuffles us along?” Iry finished my
sentence. “I believe he is ingesting it.”

“I believe he is coming up with a cover
tale.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he knows. This was not news to
him.” “You are right …” the king’s voice entered our dining hall,
“and wrong.”

Iry stood, and the king held out a hand to
still him and then he joined us at the table.

“Which part am I right and which part am I
wrong?” I asked.

Iry gave me a scolding look, as if I had
spoken out of turn.

“I knew of the queen being a Savage,” the
king said, “but I thought she had long died or was killed. Savage’s
life spans are not that long without food and oftentimes they eat
spoiled food and die. I thought she had died.”

Iry asked, “So she never reverted during the
Starvation?”

The king shook his head.

“But Nito knew,” I said. “According to
Susan, Nito knew. She wanted my blood for her mother. Nito brought
the Savage attack on Arkana.”

The king nodded. “I would assume she had her
mother’s help. I did not know, nor did I know Anubis was involved.
It makes sense.”

“Which part?” Iry asked.

“That it is Anubis and that the queen is at
his side. She was addicted to power.”

“I am a historian,” Iry said. “No one has
ever seen Anubis in person, only through visions. Could this simply
be a vision?”

“Perhaps, yes,” the king answered. “Only
Anubis would have the ability to pull Vala in, show her things, and
get her past our guards. So Anubis is there and the queen could be
using him to get Vala’s blood. The more she consumes, the more she
will return and regain power. The blood of the Mare is very
powerful. I believe this is a scare tactic.”

“A scare tactic?” I questioned.

“Yes,” the king replied, “to frighten you
into either joining them or giving your blood. Scare us all with
the threat of an attack.”

“So you don’t believe that there is a sea of
Savages?” Iry asked. “Vala saw many.”

“The Savages are feeble minded,” the king
answered. “They follow only the scent of food. They lack the
comprehension to follow a leader, let alone follow instructions to
go into battle. I believe they placed Vala in a vision of make
believe. Rest assured, we are fine.”

Rest assured?
I was unable to find
peace in his words. He hadn’t been there, I was. He didn’t see it,
I did. I wouldn’t be able to ‘rest assured’ because what I
witnessed was far too real to be simply a vision.

I vowed to myself right there, I would not
rest until I knew the truth.

It wasn’t what I
expected. For some reason, in my mind, if the people of Hopeland
were good, then surely they lived in squalor. We discovered it was
clean, crisp, and high tech down below. Another world.

And I thought we had it together in Angeles
City. For as much as we believed those from the Straits had been
brainwashed, I started to believe perhaps I was the one who had
been.

Life beyond the confines of Angeles City was
different. The people of Hopeland didn’t know the struggle of the
Savages. No one looked worn, beaten, scarred.

Snake, of course, was in his glory.

“Good Lord, is that air hockey?” he
asked.

Air Hockey?
I turned to where he
pointed. There were two people, a younger male and a girl about my
age, who were holding palm sized paddles in their hands, shoving a
slate across a table.

Snake nudged me. “That is what young people
do. Have fun not go out looking to kill.”

“I have fun,” I said in my defense.

“Sure. But killing Savages and Ancients is
always in the forefront.”

“Um, yeah, Snake, they’re a threat.”

“Not here,” Burt cut in. “I don’t believe we
ever had a Savage attack. Too close to the Ancient City, I suppose.
Or they just don’t catch our scent.”

“So they play games all day?” I asked.
“Seems counterproductive.”

“No, they have jobs. We farm down here, we
keep the solar generators running. Cleaning, cooking. You name
it.”

“How many people do you have down here?”
Snake asked.

“One hundred fifteen,” Burt replied. “We
have everything but a good seamstress. Thought we’d snag one up,
but that didn’t pan out. She…”