14

Robert Thurman is not known as the Pained God for nothing.

- Tlaloc

Robert sat in the guard lounge, blankly staring at the grey walls as Hunt tapped his fingers against the coffee table. He didn’t respond to the noise, and it obviously irritated Hunt.

“Mr. Thurman, this is not the moment to truly become one of the patients here. You are not insane, so I would exhort you to not act like you are.” He said irritably, standing up and leaning over the table. “You must get over these petty emotions.”

Robert finally looked up and glared at Hunt.

“Petty emotions?” He seethed. “My wife and best friends died! For her, it was the second time!”

“Yes, yes, and you already threw yourself a pity party the first time it happened. I was hoping you purged all of this negativity the first time around, but alas, it is not so.” Hunt interrupted. “Now, you must get ahold of yourself and snap out of this idiocy.”

Robert looked at him with pure loathing, and went back to staring at the walls.

Hunt blew a large amount of air out of his nostrils, walked slowly to where Robert sat, and backhanded him across the face.

Robert fell awkwardly out of the chair onto his chair, and his hand immediately flew to the red weal already appearing on his cheek; he didn’t make a single sound as he sat shaking on the ground, Hunt towering over him. Robert’s eyes flipped toward Hunt, and he stood up slowly. His lips curled into a sneer, and a growl quietly began escaping from lips as he raised his fists; however, before he could throw a single blow, Hunt had pushed him up against the wall, his arm across Robert’s throat. Anger flew out of Robert’s eyes to be replaced by fear, and he actually began to whimper ever so slightly. Hunt leveled a steely gaze at Robert, and he spoke with quiet intensity.

“Mr. Thurman, you would not believe me if I told you that I have suffered far more than you in the eons of my existence, no matter the massive amount of evidence I could show you, so I will not say it. What I will say is that sitting and moping and will not achieve your goals, and nor will it avenge your fallen loved ones. What will do these things is moving forward, letting go of your hurts and pains, and continuing on your mission, which is overthrowing the Caucus. Now, you already have one scar from my exasperation, and I would suggest that you not attempt to start a collection of them. You must act now, before the Caucus believe that they have broken you. Confidence in our enemies will not further our cause.”

Robert stared at him, not saying a word, and he gave a miniscule nod. Hunt dropped his arm, and Robert relaxed, rubbing his throat from the pressure it had experienced. He attempted to choke out a retort, but the words died in his throat as the image of Elaine’s lifeless body being paraded over and fawned over by the insane inmates.

Robert led out another wail, and he crumpled to the ground, and tears flowed freely from his eyes. He began coughing and retching as he cried, all the pent-up emotion escaping in this one act of release. He could not think, could not analyze, could not comprehend the world around him. He struggled to hold onto the image of her eyes and her smile, and it pained him beyond belief that the image and memory were already fading from his grasp. He let out another wail, piercing and ear-splitting, and therefore hardly felt the touch of sympathy on his shoulder.

“I do have a heart, Mr. Thurman, no matter what you will say,” Hunt said quietly,

“And I wish for you to realize that I do feel your pain. I have felt the same kind of pain as I fight against my brother, the one I have loved the most in all the worlds, and I feel it to this day.”

Robert looked at the face of Samuel Hunt, who stared down at him, his harsh features  having morphed into warm empathy. He felt comforted, and he was surprised in the fact that he did. He could not have suspected a stranger source of comfort in his grief. He childishly wiped his nose as Hunt extended a hand to him. He grabbed it, and Hunt pulled him to his feet. Robert sniffed for the last time, and then looked at Hunt, his grief converting into anger and resolution.

“What do we need to do?” He asked, cracking his knuckles.

Hunt gave him a mischievous grin.

“We will tear down this prison brick by brick, if that’s what it takes to destroy our enemies.” He said impishly.

                *        *        *

“You want us to work with who?” Robert hissed incredulously as he and Hunt walked down the hallways.

“You heard correctly, Mr. Thurman.” Hunt replied. “He is by far the most powerful and respected patient here. Even the guards will not cross him for fear of their own inevitable disembowelment.”

“What do you mean, they won’t cross him?” Robert asked, confused at how a prisoner could command so much power with his oppressors.

“He is by far the most favored and feared prisoner in this place.” Hunt said, shaking his head. “He is, in fact, the nephew of the Warden himself, forced into incarceration by the Warden’s enemies, and is pampered by the faculty for fear of the Warden’s retribution. And yet, after all this, he hates his uncle for his slow deterioration into madness. He will help us if we are delicate.”
“You do know what I did to him, right?” Robert inquired, eyebrows raised. Hunt nodded sharply.

Robert shook his head as they strolled briskly, red flags popping up in his head all over the place. Drake, the man he had mangled in his fight in the prison yard, was now the man they needed to convince to help them with an uprising. Robert shuddered as they neared his cell, worried about the ordeal they were about to go through.

Robert walked up to the cell door and flashed his ID badge in front of the scanner, and the lock clicked open. He looked at Hunt, who nodded slowly. With a deep breath, he opened the door and walked inside

“I told you, I don’t want anymore huckin’ pills!” A gravelly voice said, and something glass shattered very close to Robert’s left ear. Robert gasped, and not from the very close encounter to a glass vase he had.

He was standing in a luxury suite, a room that a person would have normally seen in a fancy hotel before the Burst. Red velvet was spread all across the room, covering the furniture and walls like a plague of its own. Fancy artwork in golden frames adorned the walls, and the room was lit by candles lying on tables and shelves all over the room.

Drake himself lay in a monstrous bed, with a body cast restricting his movement and keeping him firmly in place. He had used his one free arm to throw a now destroyed green vase at Robert.

“I don’t feel any more pain, so I don’t want any more of those hucking pills! They make me not able to think, and I don’t want to feel like I’m going around like a drunk college student!” He yelled, his lungs obviously unaffected by his injuries.

Hunt walked up to the bed and put his finger over the man’s lips, and Drake’s eyes bulged.

“Hush, Mr. Kashkarov.” He said quietly, motioning for Robert to shut the cell door. “We are not here to give you your medicine, as we wish for you to be as alert as possible for what we are about to propose to you.”

“Who are you?” Drake replied quietly, his eyes flitting between Robert and Hunt. “What are you talking about?” He looked intently at Robert, and his eyes widened. “YOU.” He screamed, pain contorting in his face. Robert stepped back while Drake took a deep breath.

He spoke softly now, calming down very quickly. “Have you come to torture me even more?” He asked. “Was breaking my back not enough? What more do you want?”

“We want to help you, Mr. Kashkarov.” Hunt said, saving Robert from having to say something, of which he was grateful.

“Help me.” Drake laughed bitterly. “How could you possibly help me? I’m in a hucking body cast! My back is broken, and the doctors say my chance of recovering are next to none! And you say you can help me?” Drake was shouting now. “Maybe if you want to help me, you can kill the man standing next to you, the one who put me in this hucking bed, you son of a vitch!”

Hunt’s hand snapped forward like a striking viper, silencing Drake and making his eyes go even wider.

“Enough.” Hunt growled. “I thought you were a wrongfully imprisoned adult, not some snivelling child. Perhaps if you wish to pity yourself, you can stay here and not be part of the great events about to pass. But if you wish to be a part, then you must stop this nonsense right now and open your ears. I will not repeat myself. Am I clear, Mr. Kashkarov?”

Drake nodded quickly, his eyes flitting from Hunt to Robert several times. Hunt nodded back, and motioned for Robert to come closer. Reluctantly, Robert did just that, ending up on the opposite side of the bed from Hunt.

“Now, Mr. Kashkarov, we both know you have no love for your uncle.” Hunt said slowly.

“You got one darn thing right.” Drake replied, scoffing. “That madman put me in here.”

Robert and Hunt exchanged looks.

I thought you said it was his uncle’s enemies who did that!  Robert said in his head to Hunt.

Apparently I was wrong. Which does not bode well, as it does not happen often. Hunt replied, before turning back to Drake, who was looking intently at the two. He quickly shook his head though, and nodded at Hunt to continue.

“We have decided that your uncle is not the right person to be running this institution.” Hunt said, and held up his hand to stall Drake’s sarcastic remark. “Yes, we know that you agree with us. You don’t have to speak, just listen. This infernal place must be torn down, and soon. The time is at hand for a reckoning.”

Drake smiled, and nodded.

“I thought you’d never say that.” He said menacingly, and listened intently as Hunt explained the plan to him, giving advice and affirmations every now and then. He seemed intrigued by the plan, and his eyebrows narrowed as he grinned a grin full of malice.

Robert had already had the plan explained to him, and, as his attention lapsed, he was drawn inevitably to the days of the past.

                *        *        *

Elaine gasped as Robert carried a heavy, hastily covered bundle through the door of the labs, her hand raising to her mouth the compliment the gesture.

“What happened?” She nearly whispered, not moving at all, the blood draining out of her face. Robert grunted in response, gesturing to the bundle in his arms, strain evident through the plastic sheet on his face. Elaine rushed over to him and helped him lower the bundle slowly onto the ground, unrolling it as they went; however, when what was inside it was revealed, she jumped back with a bloodcurdling scream.

“Don’t worry!” Robert shouted quickly, running over to comfort her and block the view of the body of their daughter on the ground. “She just got knocked out in all the commotion.”
“What commotion?” Elaine screamed shrilly. “Robert, what happened?!”

Robert wrapped his arms around her, not answering, but simply giving her love and a  comforting embrace. She cried and bawled into his shoulder, and Robert thanked whatever god existed that he had thought to take off his rain soaked jacket right after he put Jessica on the ground. Elaine was safe. His family was safe.

Eventually, Elaine looked back up at him.

“What do we do now, Robert? What can we do to survive this?” Elaine asked quietly, her voice sounding fragile, like a crystal chandelier on the verge of losing its hold on the roof. Elaine might have been losing her hold on reality and life, and Robert was terrified of the horrible consequences of such views. He had seen them in the villains he had just fought off.

Robert silenced her with a kiss, and continued to hold her trembling body in his arms as she cried over the hopelessness of their situation As he stood in the middle of the lobby, a grim truth settled across his mind. He pushed Elaine away and held her shoulders to look her in the eye.

“My love,” he said slowly. “We can’t stay here.” She frowned and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“We’re too weak here.” Robert replied, gesturing to the room around them. “You saw how those men overpowered us. If they hadn’t gotten cocky, hadn’t asked us where our stuff was, we would be dead right now. They would have shot us and looted the place. We’re too small of a group to hold a desirable place like this. We need to go and find other groups, if there are others, and band together to fight off any enemies we encounter.” He failed to add: And anyone that’s turned. He knew the situation. He believed all the rumors about The Hungered and their particular tendencies to cannibalism. He knew for a fact that they would not be able to live their lives without encountering the barbarians. They needed to be ready.

Elaine narrowed her eyes and was about to say something, when a quiet moan sounded from the ground.

They both jumped as Jessica groaned, rolling over on the ground and vomiting violently over the linoleum floor. Elaine ran to grab some towels to clean up the mess while Robert knelt down next to her, lovingly patting her back.

“Dad?” She croaked. “Is that you?”

“Yes, sweetie.” He replied softly. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

“What happened?” She asked as she tried to sit up, but gasped and quickly laid back.

“It doesn’t matter.” Robert quickly said, not wanting to bring back memories of the ordeal. “I have to tell you something.”

“We have to leave, don’t we?” She sighed, and rolled over on her back. “I guessed it as soon as those creeps walked in here. It isn’t safe anymore.”

Robert nodded, marveling at the astounding intellect of his daughter. He and Jessica both jumped when Elaine walked back into the room, loaded with clean towels and accompanied by Terrence.

“What?” She asked. Robert sighed, walked over to his wife, and gently grasped her hand.

“We need to leave now.” He said quietly.

Her eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed in anger.

“After all that, you want to leave our only place of safety when we’re at our weakest?” She hissed, whipping her hand out of Robert’s and putting hers on her hips. “What kind of idiotic idea is that?”

“An excellent one.” Robert snapped. Elaine gaped at him.

“We can fix it. We can be safe. We just have to be more careful.” Elaine said.

“With what?” Robert said sarcastically. “There’s nothing here we could use. We’re wasting time already!”

“At least I’m trying to think of ways to keep what we have, instead of resigning a good place to stay and running with my tail between my legs!” She was screaming now.

“Look around you, Elaine!” Robert gestured to the blood on his hands, to the marks on the wall from the invaders’ gunshots. “We’ve nearly been killed today because of what we have and where we are!”

“So?” She screamed back, hitting him in the chest. “I will not let my daughter die out in that wasteland!”
“She’s already dying!” Robert said, his voice under control once again. Elaine’s retort died in her throat, and they both looked at Jessica lying on the ground, bruised and battered.

“We’re all dying.” Robert whispered.

Elaine covered her face with her hands and wept, turning away as tears slid down her pale cheeks.

Robert looked at Terrence.

“Gather up any supplies we have. Any food, any weapons, anything. We have to leave as soon as possible.” Robert said.

“What about Jessica?” Terrence replied, nodding to the unconscious girl on the floor.

Robert looked at his frail daughter, and marveled at how easily the strong young woman had regressed back to a childlike state.

“She’s strong.” He said, not meeting Terrence’s eyes. “She can do it. She has to.”

Terrence nodded, and went off to perform the things that Robert had asked of him.

When Terrence left, Robert took a few deep breaths. His knees collapsed out from under him, and he sank to the floor, sobbing into his hands.

                *        *        *

“Robert!” A familiar voice whispered harshly, and Robert felt a hand shaking his shoulder. “Wake up! I think I found something useful!”

Robert groaned, and rolled over in his cot.

In his cot.

Robert’s eyes flew open, and he sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes as if to cement the scene before him in his vision.

He was back in the tent he had fallen asleep in, after he had fought those Hungered. Terrence was standing over him, grinning like a fool and pointing toward the tent flap. A small crack of light seeped through.
“Don’t worry,” Terrence said as he saw the look of wariness in Robert’s eyes. “The clouds aren’t as thick today, so there won’t be as much rain, but there will be a bit more sunlight.”

Robert nodded, and slowly stood up, yawning. Terrence seemed to be very nearly jumping out of his shoes.

“What’s the big deal?” Robert asked slowly, his mind still foggy from sleep and trying to comprehend why he was here and not back at CMHI.

“Just come and see!” Terrence nearly screamed. Robert was confused as to why the big man was acting so childlike. Nevertheless, Robert followed him out of the tent.

“It’s a couple hundred yards down that way.” Terrence said, pointing.

Robert nodded, and started walking in that very direction. As he walked, Robert wondered what was going on with Terrence. He had never seen the man more excited, but his excitement seemed… unnatural. The man was almost prancing around the stone forest, whistling to himself. Frankly, Robert was disturbed by it.

As they walked, Robert began to see small remains of a town in this area. Crumbling bricks were strewn about, some in larger heaps than others, which Robert guessed were the remains of buildings. The empty brass bullet casings showed that this places was one of the battlegrounds of the early Burst days, when the government still attempted to destroy the Hungered. The problem was, of course, that the Hungered didn’t care about pain, and didn’t die to a simple shot in the leg. That, coupled with the misconception that the Hungered could be “cured”, causing the soldiers to always attempt non-lethal shots, caused the soldiers to lose many more battle than they won. Eventually, the government fractured, causing the tribe system to rise up.

“It’s just past that building.” Terrence said, clapping his hands and giggling.

What is going on with him? Robert thought.

Come now, Mr. Thurman. Hunt said, his first comment since Robert came back. You know the signs. You know exactly what is happening to this man.

Robert gasped, stopping dead in his tracks. Terrence didn’t even notice.

No. It can’t be. He’s survived so long.

“And we’re here!” Terrence screamed, doing a little jig on a ruined pile of bricks. He was pointing a shaking finger at a small metal shed, the only building still standing. As Robert observed it, he saw that it was a train shed, tracks leading out of it from both directions.

“What’s in it?” Robert asked tentatively.

“It’ll help us!” Terrence cried, and he started skipping towards the shed.

Robert followed slowly, extremely wary of Terrence’s deteriorating condition. Any time now, Terrence could be reduced to a gibbering, maniacal psychopath. That’s what happens to everyone that turns into a Hungered.

Terrence opened the door of the shed, a swath of light cutting across the room, reflecting off something metal. Robert gasped involuntarily, heart racing at the sight.

It was an old, rusted, dusty handcar sitting on the tracks.

“Well.” Robert said, smiling. “This was fortunate.”

“I know! It’s so cool!” Terrence shouted, dancing around in a circle. “We can use it to travel a lot faster!”

“Obviously.” Robert said, rolling his eyes. “You go back and pack up camp, then meet me at the tracks closer to camp. I’ll get this working and ride it over there.”

“Yes sir!” Terrence said, giving a sloppy salute, then running out the door towards camp.

Robert walked over to the handcar and started inspecting it.

It wasn’t much, really. It creaked and squeaked as he probed it, betraying how old and rundown it really was. The rust from it covered almost every inch of the old metal, and clouds of dust puffed out from it as he breathed.

It was perfect.

Robert took an oil can from a shelf in the corner and began oiling the joints, whistling to himself as he worked. This was one of the best things he had ever found. This would make their journey exponentially faster.

Ah, but, Mr. Thurman, how will you know where you are going? Hunt whispered in his head. There is a map hidden in the corner over there. It will be useful.

Robert did not acknowledge Hunt at all, except to go and pick up the very map he had mentioned. He blew off the thick layer of dust on the yellowed paper, and unfolded it. It was a detailed map of the train tracks that ran throughout this area, and it showed a direct route to Chicago that ran around Lake Erie.

Regardless of what you think, Mr. Thurman, this car is not going to drive itself. You must use it. And I suggest soon. Your friend needs your help.

Robert stopped for a brief moment, scared at the implications of Hunt’s words. Terrence?

At that moment, he heard a scream outside.

Pausing only to grab Backbreaker, Robert ran outside.

As he left the shed, the screams turned into shrieks that mixed with a roar to form an evil combination of noise. Robert quickly drew Backbreaker and looked around.

A Hungered had attacked, and the fight was already over.

A fat naked man was hunched over the ground, tearing at the dead body of a young man. Every few seconds he lifted his head and howled with pleasure, then went back to his feast. Robert lifted Backbreaker and stalked closer to the Hungered, ready to strike at a moments notice. He closed in to the naked man and raised his sword to strike. At that moment, the man turned around, blood dripping from his lips.

Terrence smiled as Robert towered over him, his sword raised.

“Don’t worry, mommy. I took care of the little mouse for you. He won’t be hurting anyone anymore.” He said in a cutesy voice, gesturing to the man he had just killed. He began to laugh, a high pitched giggle that started slowly turning into a deep, gravelly laugh that chilled Robert’s bones, for it was the only part that was true of the man he knew. Not a single shred of Terrence came forward, none of his personality. His companion had been taken. None of his friend remained in this body.

And so, it was with pity, not anger, that he drove his sword through Terrence’s neck.