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The Hecatomb, Chapter 5 |
| Written by Sean | |
| Tuesday, 24 June 2008 | |
At age 14, Evelyn stopped smiling. Two years earlier, also four years after Lord's first visit, David succumbed to pressure and reluctantly joined Lord's alliance. Evelyn enjoyed the entire thing far more than he did. There, she could do what she wanted. There, Evelyn could feel normal.
David, however, felt far less than comfortable. His membership was tentative at best. While Evelyn had found a surrogate family in the group, David was not well liked. He rarely did anything to support the group's cause. At most, he provided food with whatever pittance of a salary his newfound position as a gas station attendant offered. Whenever Lord gave one of his speeches, hateful and vengeful, David turned away. Still, he stayed. Evelyn enjoyed it, the rebelliousness of it all. So, he would stay and weather the savagery. It made her happy.
She had grown quite a bit in those four years. She had gotten taller, coming up to about her father's sternum, and David's first trip to the store for "feminine essentials" had been nothing less than downright embarrassing. He hadn't been kept from watching his daughter grow. He could only hope that his fortune would last longer.
These rallies that Evelyn so enjoyed took place in an old auditorium in a forgotten part of downtown. The school in which the auditorium resided had been declared "unclean": a place that contained a relatively large quantity of the mutant minority.
If it hadn't been chock full of mutants then, it certainly was now. Eighty or so mutants had gathered beneath the dim ceiling, any light provided by the mutants themselves. Six mutants stood on the stage, each holding a flame in their hand no larger than a pineapple. David had been informed, once upon a time, that these were the largest flames these men could produce. In the center of the stage stood Lord, basking in his glory. Flickering luminance washed over him, casting distorted shadows along the walls. Lord's shadows, all six of them due to the lights, were especially lengthy. On the floor below resided the rest of the flock, their bodies shrouded in darkness while their eyes gleamed with hope. This man, their "Lord", was their savior. He would lead them from the darkness and into the freedom of the light. Or so it was thought.
"We will not waste our breath, our lives, any longer! We will not ignore the hatred, the fury, the fear shoved so brutally at our kind! No, we must rise and halt the unceasing tide!"
He continued, but David had tuned him out. His eyes drifted to the face in the crowd. There was John, the taxi driver who lived over on Franklin. He was called "Maw" here, due to the two mouths, each filled with razor-sharp teeth that had taken residence on his hands. There was Rage, Hopper, and White Wind. David knew them as Henry, Mitch, and Emily, respectively. They hid here, in the shadows and the misnomers, but not from God. In David's eyes, they hid from themselves.
"Great speech, isn't it Shatter?"
David, "Shatter" as he had been named, turned to stare down at Europa, otherwise known as Holly. She was a teleporter, but seemed incapable of moving any distance greater than about one mile at a time. She'd chosen her name due to her belief that one day, with enough time and effort, she would traverse the entire continent. David was far less impressed with this than he was with her knowledge of Greek mythology. When he asked her so many moons ago, he became aware that she had majored in it. She was forced to leave college when she was framed for cheating; entering the dean's office or something like that.
"It's certainly interesting. "
"I think Lord's amazing. He just captured the crowd."
"Quite."
David looked back at the legion of hopefuls, his eyes roving over every shadow visage. Evelyn had moved closer to the stage, and he could see her face in the wavering light. She was smiling, something to which she had put a complete stop at home. She looked out of place amongst the crowd. Young, delicate, and innocent, Evelyn stood in stark contrast to the beaten faces and desperate eyes around her. She took it upon herself these days to straighten her wavy hair, and as a result, her head seemed to create ripples of light that coursed down her hair, merely the glow from the flame conjurers on stage. She was growing to be such a lovely girl. Yet, she was so angry, so resentful at her mother for "leaving", and at her father for allowing such a thing to happen. He couldn't tell her. No, not yet.
She hated society for its "crimes", as Lord put it, and God for simply watching it all happen, as if it were some "wicked play." Once again, Evelyn proved her talent at repeating Lord's proclamations.
Europa decided to lift the sour expression from David's face.
"So, Evelyn looks nice."
"Yes, she does."
"How old is she? 16, 17?"
"She's fourteen."
"Oh...well, you know what they say: girls grow up fast and all."
Thunderous applause, coupled with raucous shouts of support, flooded the auditorium. Lord had finished his speech. He made a polite boy, complete with feigned humility, and stepped off the stage. His flame-holders followed. The crowd of mutants stirred and milled about. Shadows, the veiled forms of men, filtered slowly out of the room, and only those fortunate enough in the light of Lord's fire-bearers were granted visible faces. For Lord, they parted like the sea. He strode through the moving black ocean, his procession following close behind. David watched with only mild curiosity. Then he saw where Lord was headed: Evelyn. Evelyn was oblivious to the world, engrossed in conversation with a girl her own age. They were giggling, from what he saw. God how he missed that sound.
They went silent when they noticed Lord approaching. Evelyn and her acquaintance did not stand stock still, as one might expect of fans meeting a rock star. In all reality, they looked as if they were being approached by God: fidgeting, open-mouthed, and awestruck. When Lord finally made it to them, Evelyn's friend had shrunk back, apparently intimidated. Evelyn stood tall, smiling with anticipation and excitement.
David could not hear what they were saying. All he could do was watch. Lord smiled, and Evelyn giggled. He said something wise, judging from his hand movements, and Evelyn looked amazed. With each action, and every reaction, David grew increasingly disgusted and agitated. Every false smile and gullible nod enraged him.
When Evelyn let loose a loud laugh, David had had enough. He stormed forward, ready to reclaim his daughter from Lord's poisonous grasp. The windows of the auditorium quivered and shook, feeling the effects of David's dedication.
Wings fluttered, and for a moment, David saw nothing but feathers. A loud hoot filled his ears, he was greeted with the sight of an immense owl staring at him, eyes aglow, and head cocked. The avian beast perched on a chair, watching him with emotionless eyes and unnerving placidity. A giggle sounded out, light and cheery. David turned his head to see Artemis, now 18, sitting on the edge of the stage. Various piercings dangled from her ears as she waved a pleasant "hello."
At the sound of the owl's hoot, and having seen the beast descend from the rafters, Lord politely ended his conversation with Evelyn, flashing David a knowing smirk. Evelyn's expression was not nearly as happy. She gave her father a dirty scowl, apparently upset at him for interrupting her time with Lord. She stormed past him, shoved open the double doors to the auditorium and stepped out into the night. David followed, enjoying the streetlights far more than the shadowy chamber.
"Evelyn, what did you and Lord talk about?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because I'm your father and I want to know."
"We talked about cheese."
"Evelyn."
"What? I'm not going to tell you. It's private."
David gave up and used his right hand to rub his temples. Evelyn was becoming nearly insufferable these days. If he didn't get to see her smile at these rallies, he might just begin to think that the 8-year-old he missed so much was gone completely.
"You can forget about it."
David glanced over at his daughter. The two had begun to walk home. Six months earlier, cars had been declared illegal for mutants. The danger risk was too high, supposedly.
"Forget about what, Evelyn?"
"Europa."
"Holly."
"Europa."
"Whatever. What are you talking about?"
"It'll be weird if you two start going out. Just because Io says you're a D.I.L.F doesn't mean it's true."
"You mean Andrea. And you people talk about these things at 14?"
"You're so old."
"I'm thirty-eight!"
"Old."
David said nothing more, lest the argument continue. He paid no attention to the chills running down his arm. The night was cold, but the same could be said for the city itself. Many of its inhabitants simply acclimated themselves to it, some of them becoming cold themselves. The sky was clear, and whatever stars the failing streetlights did not manage to obscure shone merrily. Other lights, far less cheery and infinitely more frigid, leaked out from the houses that lined the street. They were insomniacs, most likely, incapable of finding rest even under the watchful eyes of their God. After all, only the Grigori were supposed to be awake at this time of night, the watchers that kept tabs on everything that went on in the city. Or rather, they tried. Lord has succeeded in establishing the ironically named the Nephilim, his own counterintelligence group that worked to undo some of their counterpart's actions.
However, neither the Grigori or the Nephilim were around this night, and David found himself with a silent daughter and the curious, peeping eyes of insomniacs. The insomniacs were not granted any particular insight into the lives of "those sort of people", but were instead treated to a hushed battle between father and daughter.
"Evey, please. What did Lord say?"
"Don't call me that."
"I'll call you what I named you."
"That's not my name."
"Oh? So what should I call you?"
"I don't know. Lord hasn't come up with the right one yet."
"What's wrong with Evelyn?"
"Too normal. I hate it. What's wrong with Shatter?"
"It's not my actual name."
"But it's so much cooler than David."
The pair turned a corner onto Ellis Avenue. Four lots and two red M's down rested their home, now in a state of slightly further disrepair than it had been several years ago. Some of the paint was peeling and one of the shutters was tilted, but David could have hardly cared less. He sighed with relief at the sight of his home, at the promise of bed and of tomorrow. Evelyn walked briskly in front of him, quite set on beating her father to the door and gaining dominion over the bathroom. In her opinion, her reign over the washroom only lasted for a short time. However, when experienced from the other side of the door, it was an eternity.
Indeed, the moment David unlocked the door, Evelyn ran upstairs as quickly as she could, slammed the bathroom door, and turned on both the sink and shower, lest anyone have the slightest clue as to what she were doing in there. David trudged past the bathroom, offering little more than a sigh at the thought of his next water bill, and gently closed the door to his room as he entered. The light switch was flicked on, and David squinted against the sudden light. His bedroom, presently rather full due to the presence of the eternally half-full suitcases, was his sanctuary in his own home. The bed sheets remained in the position they had taken when David rose from sleep in the morning, and one of the drawers of his dresser was half-open. The shades were closed, as they had been for years. One couldn't be too safe. There were always prying eyes, whether they were interested in the latst developments in David's nonexistent love life, or in whatever unscrupulous actions the mutant might be making. The blue walls - Irene's choice - were faded by time and bathed in yellow light by the lamps, giving the entire room an unfortunate sickly color. Yet, it was home to David, and a bed meant rest.
The sound of Evelyn's hygienic insecurity, and therefore running water, eventually faded from David's mind. Every night, it took a little less time to get used to it. David opened another drawer, not bothering to close the first, and removed from it his night clothes. "Night clothes" was a decorative phrase he used to denote a tank top and flannel pants. He removed his vestments of the previous day and slipped on these much more comfortable garments, nearly free-falling onto his bed in exhaustion. He had been tired lately. He did little manual labor, save anything he was required to do at work, yet he always came home slightly more tired than the day previous. Perhaps it was just the way life in the lower class was. Perhaps it was the city. Perhaps it was just him.
"I'm done, Shatter."
He did not bother to correct her. He heard another door slam, and knew that his daughter had gone to bed as well. As David lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling ad reminding himself that it would be prudent to change the damned light bulb in the fan, he considered if getting up to bathe was even worth it. After all, he had taken a shower last night and that very morning, and there was always tomorrow. When his eyes closed, and every sound of the night faded away, David knew that he would not be bathing that night. But that was alright. Sleep was just as good.
His eyes snapped open two hours later. He found himself sprawled across the bed, lying atop the sheet with his face buried in his pillow. For a moment, he was only slightly aware of the fact that he was awake. After that brief and rapturous moment, however, he became curious. From his vantage point halfway embedded in the pillow, he glanced around the room. Nothing was amiss. He had forgotten to turn the lights off, but nothing had truly changed. Te damned light bulb was still flickering, but that was generally negligible.
He felt this strange sensation. It was not physical, but rather something that resided just where the echoes of the material caress the shores of the mental. Frankly, something was weird. He raised himself from the bed as much as his position would allow and listened, hoping that whatever roused him from sleep would make itself known. He winced as the strange sensation appeared again. It was far more unnerving this time, like something distant was being shaken, striking a chord within David.
Whispers reached his ears. He quietly stood up and stepped silently to the door, pressing his ear against it. The whispers filtered through, and when David finally stepped out into the hall, the creaking of his door elicited a small gasp from the whispering voice. Then, silence.
"Evelyn?"
David turned the knob of his daughter's door, and pushed. It remained closed, and something bumped lightly against its other side. He tried again, this time harder, and the door remained shut. That trembling on the edge of his mind appeared again, and he heard a window in Evelyn's room be thrust open. It must have been the glass that woke him. Someone must have tried to open it quietly, and the glass must have shaken. It made sense. After all, for David, windy nights were hell.
David stepped back, anger and fear coursing through his veins, and ran at the door. Splintering pain, and wood, assured him that he'd accomplished his goal. He stumbled afterwards, in dizziness and over the pieces of the broken door frame. David composed himself just in time to see his daughter slip out of the window.
"Evelyn!"
He ran to the open portal and watched her flit through the yard like a shadow. Less than a second later, David nearly fell down the stairs and out of his front door. Evelyn's hop=scotch field had disintegrated long ago. The leaves of fall had taken its place. These leaves scattered when David's bare feet ran through them.
Evelyn had the advatange of youth on her side, but David bore near-boundless determination. Evelyn turned right at the end of the street, prompting a young driver to honk his horn in surprise. Headlights flared, and a cacophony of screeching tires and howling horns filled the air. If the insomniacs had ever fallen asleep, they were awake now. To David's great relief, Evelyn was not hit. He continued to chase her. By the time he had gotten to G Street, he could not run any longer. His footfalls slowed to a stop. He fell to a squat, breathing heavily. At the end of the street, Evelyn stopped as well. She turned to look back at her father. Behind her, the shape of a man appeared. Flickering streetlights allowed David to glimpse this creature.
Tall, long dirty blonde hair, and a floor length duster: Lord. On his shoulder rested a small owl, staring silently and possibly even curiously at David. Lord placed his hand gently on Evelyn's shoulder and smiled. But Evelyn, what expression did she wear? It was not one of anger, nor hatred, and David was thankful for that. But what was it?
Regret?
Pity? Copyright 2008 Sean |
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