Ypsilon and the Plague Doctor Page 3

  “Have you ever stood over an insect and held its life in your hands before extinguishing it? Relishing in its inferiority and taking in the power you have over such things?” the Plague Doctor asked, her voice a mechanical growl that sent shivers down Pajak’s spine.

  Pajak still didn’t know who was under the mask. She wouldn’t let him see her real face, but looks didn’t matter to him anyway. The Doctor was the most intelligently evil woman he’d ever met, and that alone made his mechanical heart quiver. “I tend not to play with my food,” he lied. “Such things are beneath me. If I want something extinguished, I do so. My pleasure comes from taking their power into myself.”

  He watched her dark eyes through the viewports in her mask. He loved watching her think; the clockwork mechanism of her brain must be the most beautiful thing in the world. Maybe someday he’d get to see it for himself. But until that day, she served a greater purpose. She’d saved him. Broken him free of his chains and killed those who had enslaved him. Tell me little spider, should I choose to free you, would you have it in you to help me destroy this place? Pajak shivered as he thought about what she’d said to him when she found him in Webley’s prison. His response hadn’t changed since then. He’d watch the World Machine burn with the Plague Doctor by his side.

  “Hmm. Such a sad existence,” the Plague Doctor said at last. “No enjoyment in the kill. It’s no wonder my creatures intrigue you. They gain new life in death.”

  A smile crept across Pajak’s face. Dawn glistened over the dark robes of the newcomer to the Machine. The silver beak from her mask caught a ray of light, becoming an angelic beacon in the darkness.

  The good doctor was right. All his life, Pajak longed to create things like Webley. It was not until he was cast out of the family that he wanted to see his father’s creations destroyed. The idea of life in death intrigued him more than she knew. “Well then, show me the way, Doctor.”

  The Plague Doctor didn’t reply. She turned to look over the rail station, her mind ticking away once more.

  Pajak glanced down at his hands. If he had his way, he wouldn’t have disconnected his arachnid appendages for more conventional ones. He hated looking like the humans, but the Plague Doctor had convinced him that they would be able to hide in the shadows better if he looked more like a regular Dweller. He could have said the same to her, but he’d chosen to take the form she preferred without fuss. If he’d had his way, he would also have his Kleinmasch ripping the town to pieces. But the excitement he got from watching his beautiful savior work her inventions overcame his need to take charge, and he agreed to give her a shot and see what she could do.

  The Plague Doctor rolled her shoulders and rubbed the back of her neck. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

  “Getting your business face on already, eh love? Very well.”

  Pajak waved his hand and two large Geartha flew in from a neighboring perch, their mechanized bodies faster than they should have been given their size. Pajak always brought the Geartha when he wanted maximum destruction. As the most lethal creatures in Pajak’s army of Kleinmasch, they had a special place in his heart. The large creatures were mantis-like in appearance with giant, razor-shaped arms that could cleave through anything. This, coupled with their lethal agility, made them formidable killers.

  This was one creation Fausto had gotten right. At the thought of his former right hand, Pajak felt a strange tightening of his chest. His death had been rather unfortunate. The feeling didn’t last as he glanced up at the beautiful Doctor. This was a new era. His new second in command was much more capable than his last.

  The Doctor walked over to the Geartha and removed a vial from her robes. Pajak’s beautiful killers looked to their leader for approval. He nodded. They leaned forward and the doctor sprayed a glistening mist into their faces. Pajak cocked his head to the side. “Curious.”

  “In time, you will see. I would be cautious around these creatures as the desired effect takes them. It’s quite contagious.”

  Pajak took several steps toward his Geartha before abruptly spinning to face the Doctor. He grabbed her by the throat, lifting her into the air. Rage burned through him, electrifying every nerve ending in his body as he squeezed. He closed his eyes, relishing in the strange sensation for a moment before saying, “You interest me, but make no mistake, I am nothing like these things.”

  The Plague Doctor clutched his wrist, gasping for air.

  “I am the first,” Pajak continued, watching her bulbous eyes through her mask. “I am the original. I agreed to let you play in my world, and am grateful you freed me, but do not make the mistake of believing that I will tolerate insolence. That would be a fatal mistake, love.”

  The Doctor’s black eyes watched him from beneath her hood. The feel of her neck under his tightened fist and the rush buzzing over his body was intoxicating. He wanted to know what would happen if he squeezed harder. Would he be able to take her head off?

  She gripped Pajak’s wrist, twisting to the side. As his grip loosened, the Doctor drove her boot into his chest, thrusting him back.

  Pajak stumbled backwards, fire licking at every muscle in his body. He hadn’t felt this level of fury since Webley’s betrayal. Yet, he was impressed. It was not often that a creature got the jump on him. It was going to be a shame to rip her appendages from her torso and display them in his throne room. “For that, your pain will be legendary.”

  The Doctor took a step back and raised her hands. “No disrespect was intended, Pajak. You drew your own inference and acted on it. You must have stepped closer to the powder than you should have. I was only showing you that I too will not be disrespected. We need not kill one another when there is so much more killing to be done.”

  Pajak focused past the Doctor to his Geartha. They perched, waiting for his order. Pajak slowly took control of his rage. He desperately wanted to hold on to the amazing feeling rippling across his body, but he knew she was right. This was only the effect of her virus. Something he’d thought couldn’t affect him. Clearly, he’d been wrong. He sucked in a deep breath, slowly pushing the air out of his lungs until the tingling sensation died away. “Well, aren’t you a joyful addition to the Machine after all? In the spirit of not ruining our fun, I’ll let you live. Make no mistake, outsider, if you ever cross me again, none of your plagues will save you.”

  The Doctor nodded. “We are nearly out of time. The creatures must go now.”

  Pajak looked out over the station. Security had increased in many of the colonies since the war started. Several sets of automatic cannons sat on the area's bordering pillars and a small security detail paced the streets. “While my creatures are quite the killers, we will need more than just two Geartha. They won’t last long out there.”

  “I’m counting on it,” the Plague Doctor said as she sauntered towards Pajak. “As long as your beautiful assassins focus the killing on the civilians, not the defenses, I think you’ll be pleased with the resulting chaos.”

  Pajak studied his companion before giving his Geartha the signal.

  “Remember, it works much better when the damage is severe. Little internal interference. Be sure that you do not completely shred your prey. They need to be able to use their arms and legs the best they can. Also, keep their heads attached,” the Doctor instructed.

  The Geartha snarled, then shot into the air. Their wings buzzed loudly as they sped towards Aesop’s Station.

  “Shall we get a closer seat?” Pajak asked.

  “Indeed,” the Doctor replied. “What good are screams if they’re not heard?”

  Pajak chuckled. “If your prey cries in the dark, but they aren’t heard, is their pain real?”

  As they made their way closer to the station, the Geartha had no trouble keeping to the shadows. They made it within range of the cannons and approached the streets of the station before any alarms sounded. As the carnage began, no one noticed the two dark figures positioned on the tallest building in the station.

&nbs
p; “We’re under attack!” a guard shouted as the explosions of small-arms fire erupted and filled the air. The gunshots almost muffled the screams of frantic civilians as they ran for cover, a side effect that made Pajak purse his lips in a pout.

  Three officers approached the rampaging creatures from a side street and opened fire. But the Geartha were much too fast for them. One flew at the security team. Its blades floated through the air like a feather dancing in the breeze. Metallic liquid spewed, covering the Geartha as it severed limb after limb with practiced ease.

  The second creature made its way to a small group of Dwellers attempting to hide under a transport cart. Its arms cleaved the machine in twain. The Dwellers tried to run, but the Geartha was faster. It used its deathly sharp blades to split them open.

  Pajak leaned in to listen to their panicked gurgles. The piercing sound of the alarm almost took the enjoyment out of it.

  “To the cannons!” someone shouted. Dwellers climbed into the domed cockpits of the giant guns and trained their sights on their attackers. Two explosions sounded and the Geartha were gone. The rounds from the canons reduced them to pieces too small to see from Pajak’s post. He couldn’t help the giddy jump of his heart at the events.

  Silence enveloped the settlement. No one dared step into the open for fear that more Kleinmasch would show up. The cannons scanned the horizon for more threats.

  Pajak imagined the crippling fear that must be racing through the Dwellers. If he’d have brought more Kleinmasch, they would have slaughtered the entire station. “Hmm. Well, I count possibly a dozen dead. Not quite the show I was hoping for. Perhaps next time you’ll take my advice.”

  The Plague Doctor held out one finger. “Wait for it.”

  Pajak’s lip curled at the interruption, but he forced himself to let it go.

  Another minute of silence passed before movement caught his eye. The gunners signaled the all clear, and the remaining Dwellers abandoned their hiding places to examine the damage and help the injured. “I’m waiting for your big reveal.”

  The Doctor wiggled the index finger she still held out.

  “Medic! We have a live one here!”

  Three Dwellers ran over to a disemboweled guard. Pajak watched in curiosity as the Dweller twitched. How could he have survived?

  One of the responders leaned towards the injured man. “I think he’s trying to say something.”

  A scream erupted.

  The fallen guard lunged at the medic and buried his teeth into the responder’s neck.

  The other two rescuers fought to separate the two, striking the guard around the head and shoulders. Metallic blood sprayed the ground, making it slick. The guard released the first medic and lunged at a second, grabbing him by the legs as he tried to escape.

  Another scream from the other end of the platform. A Dweller with a gash crossing his body from shoulder to hip clung to the back of a rail worker and swiped furiously at another that tried to intervene.

  One by one, the dead and seriously injured came back as something much worse than Pajak could ever have dreamed.

  Minutes after the battle between the Geartha and the Dwellers of Aesop’s Station ended, a second battle erupted. The dead attacked the living. They ripped and tore at anyone that moved, their bodies impossibly fast. The dead consumed them.

  Pajak let his mouth hang open at the beauty. As Webley’s precious creatures killed one another, they came back as pure killing machines. The implications sent a giddy laugh through Pajak.

  “In death, life becomes more precious than we can imagine. We as predators take that power from our prey,” the Plague Doctor said, pulling Pajak from his thoughts.

  “Is this the rage that you spoke of when you freed me from my cell?”

  “This is the beauty of what I want to bring. It is solely carnage. The purest form of life. One purpose. Your entire body strives for it. Aches for it. Is consumed by it.”

  The screams washed over Pajak like a symphony. Within moments, the tide had turned so abruptly that he could no longer tell who was infected and who was about to become prey. He now saw the fatal potential of this application. Pure mayhem.

  A few straggling gunshots rang out as those struggling to survive picked up the guards' weapons. The alarms wailed once more but, this time, help was not coming. There was no one left to come.

  The dead climbed the platforms and ripped at the domes to the cannons. As soon as the domes slid from their safety latches, the pilots were pulled from the cockpits and dragged into the horde.

  The rail station sat eerily quiet, the only sound the lazy wail of the alarm. The bodies now shuffled around as if looking for something to do. Some of them picked up weapons and tools, while others awkwardly tried to maneuver with missing arms and legs. Crates were knocked over and windows were broken out of shops. They were searching for more victims.

  The Plague Doctor finally turned to look at Pajak. “Do you see?”

  “I never imagined something like this could be possible,” Pajak replied. “What will they do now?”

  “Now that the virus has taken them over, they will be directed by their fury. They have but one purpose. That purpose is to expend their rage on others. They will not eat or rest until their anger is satiated.”

  “So they will continue on like this forever?”

  The Plague Doctor paused to think a moment before responding. “Eventually, without food or rest, they will consume themselves. With that said, there is still plenty of time before that happens.”

  “Will they spill out into the Machine and search for more victims? This all seems to happen very quickly, and I do not want our fun to end too soon.” Pajak watched the group of Dwellers as they padded around the platform as if in a daze.

  “They will only venture out if drawn. Otherwise, they will remain until taunted again.”

  A lone shout spilled from the far side of the platform. Pajak scanned the area as a single Dweller appeared from under a cart and fired at the Prowlers, as Pajak had decided to call them.

  The town sprung to life as every Prowler within earshot chased after the lone survivor.

  “Well, this should be interesting,” Pajak said. “Run little mouse. The cats are coming to play.”

  4|Who’s Cleaning Up This Shit?

  “Seriously, though. Who’s going to clean this shit up?” Ypsilon asked, wiping a smear of metallic blood from the side of Bangarang with the hem of her shirt. “Maza, you really didn’t need to rip that last guy’s head off… But I like your style.”

  The last few Dwellers had trickled in through the window and Maza had pulled them in one at a time, easily killing the already decaying corpses and dropping them into a pile on the floor.

  Bodies and mechanical parts littered the destroyed kitchen and front yard. Maza panted, leaning against the stove and clutching the wound in his side. Blood was smeared across his abdomen and it seeped through his fingers, dripping onto the floor.

  A gunshot rang in the kitchen, the sound louder than Arija thought it should have been.

  “Aaand my ears are blown,” Adal snarled.

  Arija shrugged. “That one was still moving. I mean, it was next to you so I could’ve just let it take a nibble.”

  Adal’s face softened and he smiled, making the butterflies in Arija’s stomach run rampant. She was used to being the collected one and bailing Adal out, but even she had to admit things had been awkward between them since they’d gotten back from the Burning City. But something about the fight and the adrenaline had brought them back to their old selves.

  Arija tried not to act weird around Adal since they’d slept together, but she couldn’t deny that what they did changed things between them. Not in a bad way, just…Things were different.

  Adal raised his shirt and wiped the sweat from his face. Arija let her eyes run the length of his flat stomach. She knew he’d done it on purpose, but she couldn’t help but look.

  Arija shook the lazy look from her face and brou
ght her attention back to the comically large pile of dead bodies in their kitchen. The carnage that they’d survived was the most intense thing she’d seen. Most of the Dwellers she’d met had been timid and reserved. Even the few crazy ones hadn’t been like this.

  Kip clutched the empty pistol he’d taken from Van. Arija had never seen the kid so scared and she had to remind herself that he was still only a child. Van, on the other hand, looked horrified.

  “You two good?” Arija asked. When neither of them responded, Arija turned toward Van. “Van, you all right?”

  “Oh… uh… yeah…” Van replied, squeezing her eyes closed and shaking her head. “The gun jammed or something.”

  Van was clearly lying but Arija didn’t feel the need to publicly embarrass her. She made a mental note to sit down with Van at some point and talk about both what she went through with losing her leg and what was going on in her mind. “Yeah, that can happen. Be careful.”

  “Now, I know I’m new in town, but what the actual fuck just happened?” Ypsilon said, breaking the awkward tension. “Tell me that wasn’t some regularly scheduled parade of assholes.”

  “I’ve never seen them act like that. Something’s wrong. Dwellers don’t do shit like that,” Adal answered. He rolled over the nearest dead body and examined it. Other than the hole that Arija had put in its head, there wasn’t anything obviously wrong with it. Some initial dings and bruises that he pointed out for Arija, but otherwise normal.

  “They weren’t so tough,” Maza grunted as he stumbled backwards over a decapitated body, still clutching the wound in his side.

  “Easy, big guy,” Ypsilon said as she grabbed Maza by the arm and guided him to a chair. “You got ‘um.” She turned her attention to Kip. “You have bandages for humans or anything I can use to fix him up?”

  “I gotcha. One sec.” Kip disappeared into the house.