Pahnyakin Rising (8 page)

Up ahead, beyond the gun’s barrel, Dresden saw an empty yard surrounded by a ten-foot-high silver chain link fence.  Holes in the fence were patched with neon orange construction-site netting, and at the top of the fence was poorly-affixed razor wire.  As she neared the site, she saw blood splotched on some of the wires.  At the left of the grassy area, there was an elevated wooden stage.  Five rickety wooden lawn chairs were lined up next to one another.  Nick sat in the center chair.  On the right, there was a small brick building no wider than half the size of the cell in which she had been kept.   Something about the area was familiar.  She turned her head to the left and right, searching for Dodge amongst the crowd.

“Dodge,” she hollered.  “Dodge!” 

“Shut up,” Lyle barked.  She felt his fist slam against the small of her back and she jerked forward. 

The crowd went wild. In front of her, the gunman reacted by sighing and briefly turning his head from her pained face.

Dresden and her captors reached a full gated door on the side of the fencing.  The man in the combat gear stuck out like a sore thumb.  Dresden couldn’t quite understand why he was outfitted in tactical gear while the rest of the crowd was dressed in dirtied jeans and sweaters.  She could not recognize anyone from the crowd. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nick stand.  When he rose to his feet, the crowd fell silent in waves. 

“We are gathered here today for the Trial of our former leader,” he announced in a throaty voice.

“Former leader?” panicked the teenager to the guards surrounding her.  “No.  I’ve never even been here before today.”

The crowd roared.  Nick raised his hands to quiet the cheers.

“It is suspected that her she has been programmed and her
skills,
” he announced, using air quotes, “are to be used against this community.  She claims she has no agenda here, no memory of the pain she has caused our people.”

Dresden dodged a glass bottle aimed for her face and watched in horror as it smashed against the ground at her feet.

Shepherd continued, “We have worked tirelessly to survive.  Everyone here has made sacrifices.  And here stands our former leader, facing Trial not only for leading our people—our husbands, wives, children—to death, but also for coming back for more.  And we—the human race—WILL NOT GO DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT.”

Once more, the crowd erupted in applause and shouts of agreement. 

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Dresden argued with a scream so loud and forced that the back of her throat to hurt.  “Please.  I didn’t kill anyone.”

Her cries went unheard over the stir of the people around her.  Shepherd nodded to the group of guards surrounding her and the man in black opened the gate.  From behind, Dresden felt shoves against her back.  She had no choice but to move forward and into the fenced area.  Her right ankle caved under the pressure of her stumbling and she fell to the ground.  As she was getting up, the man in black closed the gate and placed a padlock through the u-shaped hinged handle. 

“Don’t leave me in here,” she pleaded.  She limped to the gate and slammed her palms against the chain link. 

The man in black eagerly handed his gun and thin black leather gloves to Lyle and reached his left hand under the thick black visor covering his face to reveal himself.  Dresden’s eyes briefly met with his and tears formed in hers.

“Dodge,” she wept, “please help me.  Please, just tell me what is going on here.”

He ran his open hand through his sweaty, full beard and quickly adverted his glance elsewhere.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.  “If it’s you and you’re telling the truth, I’m sorry.”

Dodge slowly walked away with the other guards and approached the stage.

“Don’t leave me here,” she called to him through hyperventilated sobs.  “Dodge, help me.  I thought we were friends.  You can’t let them do this.”

She sat on the ground and hit her palms against the cold grass.  The crowd lined up to face the cage and pushed one another to get a better look.  One father raised his son-no older than six-on his broad shoulders to see the event.

“If Dresden is lying,” Shepherd shouted, demanding immediate silence, “this is the only way we will find out.  We will take her into custody and demand answers until her execution.”

The girl turned her head and stared to Dodge.  He returned her stare blankly and without blinking.  His expression was difficult to decipher.  He chewed on the inside of his lower lip momentarily before returning to his unmoved look of deep vengeance.  How could he do this to her?  What happened that was so bad that it tore apart their friendship?

“Open the holding cell,” Shepherd ordered.  He raised his arm and pointed with his left index finger to the brick building 40 feet from the teenager.

A buzzer sounded and the solid metal door to the brick room opened.  The entranceway was dark.  Dresden was filled with fear and sadness and an incomprehensible level of anxiety that she found herself unable to breathe.  She remained seated on the ground and watched the building.  Her stomach churned and she gagged.  She could feel the water she drank minutes earlier creeping up her throat and into her mouth.  She spit and sniffled. 

Dresden jumped when a Philips screwdriver, red in color and eight-inches-long from handle to metal tip, landed next to her.  She turned her head to see Lyle walking back to the wooden seat next to Nick.  Dodge remained in his seat at the far end of the stage.  His hands were clasped tightly and rested in between his knees as he leaned forward.  The bulletproof vest he wore strapped against his chest must have been digging against his ribcage and into the skin on his doughy stomach, but he did not seem to acknowledge discomfort.

From the building’s interior came a clatter followed by rapid, forceful mechanical clicks.  She’d heard that sound before, when Unies were mad.  And suddenly the Trial became clear to her. 

“No,” she said fearfully.  She grabbed the screwdriver and jumped to her feet.  “No,” she screamed, turning to appeal to Shepherd.  “You can’t leave me in here.  What did you to make it this way?  Why are you doing this to me?”

The clicking slowed but grew in volume.  Fine hairs on the back of Dresden’s neck rose.  She did not have to look over her shoulder to know a Pahnyakin was standing in the cage with her.  She could hear its stomps through the field.  The crowd cheered.

Dresden turned to see a Uni bolting in her direction.  She froze and dropped the screwdriver to the ground.  Realizing it was her only defense against the Pahnyakin, she leaned over to pick it up with her trembling fingers.  She dropped it three more times before gripping it tightly.  The Uni stopped and raised its head to the clear sky.  It screeched and clattered, as if calling for assistance.  It appeared frustrated that its calls went unanswered.  Dresden took the moment to rush to the locked gate.  She furiously shook the chain link door.

“Let me out,” she begged.  “Please, let me out.”

She caught glimpses of the crowd.  Some had stopped cheering and appeared concerned. 

Dresden peeked over her shoulder to see the Uni approaching her in stride.  She looked up at the razor wire and cringed at the thought of the metal cutting into her skin, but cuts would be better than what the Uni would do to her.  She placed the screwdriver in the upper pocket of her flannel shirt and began to scale the fence.  The crowd booed.

“What is she doing?” shouted a child.  “Daddy, I thought you said she wasn’t afraid.”

Oh, how she wished that were true as she struggled to get the toes of her boots inside the honeycomb-shaped holes on the fence. 

No sooner than she made it two feet up did she feel the Uni’s red metal pincers clamp against the back of her neck.  Its digits pierced her skin but she was too surprised to scream.  She flew through the air as the creature pried her away from the fence and threw her ten feet away.  Dresden landed on the cold, browning September ground and rolled to her side.  Every bone in her body ached, but she fought the pain and hopped to her feet.  Hunched over near her midsection, the teenager hobbled to the fence and begged for her life, knowing the Uni was moments away from attacking her once more.

“Dodge,” she cried.

He looked away, unable to bear witness to the pain in her eyes.

  “The Gaia,” she continued, wincing as the sliced skin on her busted lip tore with every word.  “The Gaia exploded and they took the transmitter and I woke up on the bridge.  Please, I don’t know why you’re doing this to me.”

Her friend’s expression remained unmoved.

Dresden grabbed at the ends of her hair.  “I used your knife,” she shouted.  “Teddy bear pancakes.  This all happened yesterday.  Why are you trying to hurt me?”

Dodge turned to face her and his lips were partially spread in bewildered awe.  His thick brows were slanted downward and his hazel eyes were squinted. 

“Please,” she begged.  “I shouldn’t have gone back, okay?  I should’ve let you take me before school.  You were right.  Dodge, help me.”

The Uni approached her and slapped her away from the fence and to the center of the cage.  She gasped for air and squealed as she blubbered.  The girl cowered and reached for the screwdriver.  She patted her pocket with the palm of her right hand, but the tool was gone.  Across the field, to her right, she saw a familiar sight. 

Dresden stared longingly and briefly at her house.  Its white paint was peeling and her bedroom window was busted.  Only years of abuse could have left her home so damaged. 

She stretched her neck to see the Uni walking towards her.  It knew it could kill her, but this was sport to the being.  This was revenge for being held against its will, for being tortured and forced to mutilate teary-eyed victims.  She knew she could not outrun the alien in her condition, but it would not hinder her attempts. 

The teenager bolted from the ground and limped with all the speed she could muster in the direction of her home. 

“Mom,” she screamed.  “Dad.  Help me.”

She heard rapid intermittent clicking nearing and shuddered.  She turned to face the Uni and stood only to its upper abdomen.  Against her better judgment, she placed her palms against its chest and pushed as hard as she could.  The Pahnyakin did not budge.  It cocked its head as if amused before extending its pincers to grasp her throat. 

This was it.  She was going to die.

The Uni moved to make its final move against the girl.  She closed her eyes and tried to let go of every emotion she was feeling, bracing herself for immense pain and waiting for her life to drain from her trembling body.  In fear, she slinked to the ground and cowered.  Her arms covered her head like she had practiced as a child during tornado drills in the hallway of her elementary school.   She could not stop sobbing as the roar of the crowd died down to murmurs.

“Please,” she begged.  “Someone help me, please.”  

When the screech rang through the flutter of the leaves on the tree in her front yard in the frigid wind, over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears, Dresden opened her eyes.  The Uni collapsed at her feet, a hunting knife protruding from an electrical port in between its shoulder blades.  Dresden had never seen a Pahnyakin’s flesh.  It was beige and splotched with burgundy dots.  She didn’t even know they had flesh under their metal. 

Dodge stood before her, panting.  His shoulders were pressed back and stiff; his cheeks were pale and he was out of breath.   

“Tell me what year it is,” he demanded with a grunt.

Dresden’s teeth chattered.  “What?” 

“Tell me,” he repeated.  He reached down and drew the blade from the expired Uni.  “I really have a feeling that this is the one time I could kill you.  Don’t make me find out if that’s true.”

“2028,” she quivered.  “Why are you asking me that?” 

Dodge ran his left hand through his shaggy hair and placed it up like a stop sign to the armed guards running in their direction.

“We have a situation,” he called to them.  His voice echoed over the heads of the shocked onlookers.  “I’m responsible for what happens to her now.”

“The hell you are,” Shepherd growled from the stage.

“Dodge,” the girl cried.  “Tell me what’s going on.  I’m so scared right now.”

He sighed as his eyes softened as he gazed in hers.     

“Say something,” Dresden ordered.  “I need to know what’s going on.  Nobody’s telling me anything.”

“You want someone to tell you something?” he exploded, shoving the knife in the sheath attached to the front of his black pants.  He straightened his kneepad with his rough hands.  “It’s 2033 and you’ve been dead a year.”

-10-

He stood in the center of the living room and made no effort to calm her as she sat on the floor and bawled.  Dodge felt conflicted.  He so desperately wanted to assure her everything would be okay, but he couldn’t make any promises and he knew her well enough to know she would angrily reject his attempts to comfort her.  Or would she?