The Zero Patient Trilogy (Book Two): (A Dystopian Science Fiction Series) Read online

  The Zero Patient Trilogy

  ((Book Two))

  Harmon Cooper

  Edited by George C. Hopkins

  Copyright © 2016 by Harmon Cooper

  Copyright © 2016 Boycott Books

  Cover by White Comma

  Edited by George C. Hopkins ([email protected])

  www.harmoncooper.com

  [email protected]

  Twitter: @_HarmonCooper

  All rights reserved. All rights preserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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  Harmon Cooper

  For Sor Ganbold

  To face the faceless.

  To touch the senseless.

  To hear the voice.

  To see the Goddess.

  ­

  Hi Reader,

  I’ve put a list of vocabulary words at the back of this book, instantly accessible through the table of contents. If you ever stumble upon an unknown term, this is a great place to look.

  Enjoy,

  Harmon Cooper

  STERLING

  .1.

  ‘Bolt!’

  Sterling sees the men pull the kid under; their arms tentacle out of the earth with sharpened, claw-like fingers. Their grotesquely muscled shoulders bulge and contort, their faces change and distort. Above him – the sky is curdled by slashes of light, the darkness sucking the color out of everything it touches. Around him – deadly shadows of froth and sin blister the shitscape.

  ‘Bolt!’

  His legs utterly useless, Sterling drags himself on his hands and elbows over to the kid. The crawl is excruciating; his whole body quakes with each movement. The soil shifts and loosens underneath him, and he feels himself fall. He catches his balance on a protruding rock as the sand lifts into the air. It hovers around him like a cloud of flies, twists into dozens of tiny sandstorms before settling.

  ‘Noooo!’ Sterling reaches out to Bolt as more hands wrench the poor kid into the ground.

  Sterling hammers his fists into the soil in anger, anguish, frustration – all to no avail; he can’t save Bolt, he can’t reverse what has already happened. Innocence is lost in the Canyon, stitched to the Deathborn as it links them to the past. There is no turning back for Sterling, no lizard luck left, no instant fix to his current dilemma. The sense of doom swells in his chest. Bolt screams, claws at the dirt as it sucks him under.

  Bolt is gone, and Sterling is unable to save him.

  Elongated, sinewy, bloody arms tear free from the soil. They reach towards the sky, writhe and convulse. They latch onto one another and interlock to form a walkway of pink human flesh. Halo appears before him, steps out onto the arms and settles her heels. Footsteps echo inside Sterling’s skull.

  The Goddess is completely naked, her breasts flat from years of binding, the bush above her pudendum the same color blonde as her hair. Her blinders are gone, and with eyes closed, Halo takes a step closer to him.

  ‘Open them,’ he says or thinks.

  She does as he requests, revealing one blue eye and one green eye that tickle the edges of recent memory, although at that very moment, he can’t place where he’s seen them. Halo locks eyes with him as black blood gushes from a hole in the center of her forehead. It covers her face, her neck, her nipples, her stomach, her thighs and finally her feet. Her eyes shine clear in the mess of subfusc life force.

  ‘Who is she?’ asks the voice.

  ‘I… I don’t know!’ Sterling screams.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘I don’t know! I DON’T KNOW!’

  ***

  ‘Who is she?’

  Sterling awakens on the floor of his bedroom. He pulls his knees to his chest and sits up, wipes the sweat from his forehead. Blurry eyed, he catches sight of Halo on his bed in her meditative pose. From there he turns to his sister, Beige, who crouches before him with some of her wrappings in her arms.

  ‘You were asleep when I came in,’ he mumbles. Disoriented, Sterling rubs his eyes with his fists.

  ‘Who is she?’ Beige hisses. Nineteen years old, she is the epitome of a nubile Upper maiden. The thumbprint-sized pink dot under each of her eyes indicates her class and unmarried status. Her hair is braided and wrapped above her ears, forming a short little tail at the back of her neck.

  ‘She’s my… um… friend,’ he blurts.

  ‘Your… um… friend?’

  You might as well explain who and what I am.

  ‘Are you serious?’ he asks Halo. Her face frozen forward, her blinders pulled tightly across her eyes, her wrappings perfectly arranged – the Southern Goddess is as commanding and ghastly as ever.

  His younger sister glances from Sterling to the strange woman-child in his bedroom. ‘She’s not your friend,’ Beige concludes rather quickly. ‘You don’t have friends.’

  ‘Does Mom know she’s here?’ he asks.

  Their mother, one of the oldest women in the North at forty-nine, is as fragile as it is possible for any living person to be. It’s a wonder that she hasn’t been raptured yet. Most people that survive past forty-five are raptured, which is considered an honor on both sides of the Off Limits. No one knows what happens to them at that point, but the Book clears up any uncertainty regarding rapturing in a number of passages, most famously: To be raptured is to be freed from Deathbirth. The sins of the past are erased and the raptured are unfettered from the cyclical existence of the Stayed. Cast aside your doubts, those of the Devout. Live your lives in devotion, free from fulsome communal assent.

  Both Sterling and his sister expect their mother’s Rapture Announcement to come any day now – certainly by the time she’s fifty. The only Northerner who’s lived past fifty was an Upper businessman named Secom Damien, father of Zander Damien – the man who sent Sterling to the South to kidnap Halo.

  ‘Of course Mom doesn’t know,’ Beige hisses. Her agitation pulls her lips into a narrow slash. ‘Why would I tell her about your… um… guest?’ Her voice drops to a whisper. ‘She isn’t a flesh giver, is she?’

  Sterling rolls his eyes at Halo, which he knows she can’t see.

  ‘Actually, yes, she is a flesh giver.’

  His sister huffs, ‘You brought a flesh giver into our home!?’

  ‘Not just any flesh giver, this one is the best lover in the Canyon. North, South, East or West. She’s practically a legend in the South.’

  I don’t think this is a proper way to introduce me.

  He grins at the Goddess of the South. ‘Sorry, but I’d rather be honest with my sister.’

  ‘She doesn’t talk?’

  ‘Nope, the best kind of woman in my opinion.’

  Beige narrows her eyes and glares shivs at him.

  ‘Just joking.’ Sterling scratches the back of his head; he suddenly finds that the heat from three bodies makes the room close and uncomfortable.

  I can move your lips, you know. I can control what you say and how you say it. Is that what you desire?

  Sterling gets the notion to tos
s one of his R Boots at the Goddess. He’s done it before; she doesn’t handle sudden pain too well. But as usual, she’s a step ahead of him.

  And keep your R Boot on the floor or I will ensure that your mother doesn’t get her Rapture Announcement and your sister walks around drooling for the rest of her life.

  ‘She’s the Goddess of the South,’ he says, dropping his act. ‘Halo, Beige; Beige, Halo.’

  ***

  ‘She’s the WHAT?’ His sister springs to her feet and moves towards the door. She scoops her wrappings up and crosses her arms over her chest; a gesture Sterling’s seen her make a thousand times before.

  ‘The Goddess of the South.’

  The shock and surprise on Beige’s face quickly gives way to anger and irritation. ‘I don’t care if you are visiting flesh givers. True, you shouldn’t be bringing them back here, but seriously, Sterling, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me – and don’t blasph with such a… stupid, nasty, dangerous lie!’

  ‘I swear on out father’s grave.’

  ‘That just makes it worse!’

  ‘Beige, that’s what she is; that’s the truth. She’s the Goddess of the South.’

  ‘Why would the Goddess of the South be with you, of all people? And why would you bring her here, then?’

  ‘Truth, Beige. She really is.’

  Resentment, surprise, and fear chase themselves across her face. ‘But if that’s true,’ she splutters, ‘then she’s… she’s…’

  ‘She’s what?’

  ‘She’s the false Goddess.’ Beige whispers.

  ‘I used to think that too,’ says Sterling, ‘but I’m starting to think otherwise. Show her what you can do, Halo.’

  Halo remains motionless.

  ‘Oh, come on, you’re killin’ me here! I’m being straight with her, just like you asked.’

  ‘What can she do?’ Beige curls her lips at the Goddess.

  ‘She can control minds, you know, make people do things.’

  ‘Control… minds… ?’ she makes no effort to hide her disbelief.

  ‘Show her what you can do, Halo. Speak inside her brain or something.’

  Sterling pulls himself to his feet, kicks some of the blankets away. He stretches, groans. He feels like hammered lizard shit; even his hair hurts. The pains from last night won’t go away anytime soon. He got stomped at the southern entry point, clubbing sticked by that bastard Clay, kicked around by the metal bones guy – and he still needs to talk to Halo about that – dug a deep, proper, decent grave for Bolt all by himself, and then he had to sleep on the floor. He’s not a fan of sleeping on the floor; his back, neck and hips aren’t real crazy about it either. And the back-and-forth with his snippy sister and an uppity Goddess aren’t doing much to make the day any shinier.

  I’m not Delix.

  ‘What? Where’d that come from? What’s Delix got to do with anything anyway?’

  I’m not your trained lizard that acts on command.

  ‘And you think Delix was?’ he shoots back. ‘That damn lizard lost more races than he ever won; he’d only win when he felt like it. Still, he was faster than fast when he wanted to be, and he was for sure twice as trustworthy as you’ve turned out to be.’

  Watch how you speak to me.

  ‘Why are you talking to her about your rotten old lizard?’ his sister asks. ‘And… why isn’t she talking back to you?’

  Sterling points his finger straight up. ‘Ah-ha! That’s proof of what I’m saying. She doesn’t speak out loud; she speaks in here… ’ He taps his finger against the side of his head. ‘She just told me she wasn’t like Delix and that she didn’t act on command. Also, dammit, and I’ve told you this before, Delix wasn’t rotten. He was a damn good lizard, smarter than half of the North and pretty much all of the South.’

  Last chance.

  His sister huffs again, rolls her eyes and takes a step backwards. ‘This wasn’t how I’d planned to start my day!’

  ‘Welcome to the club.’

  ‘I refuse to believe that you somehow brought the Southern Goddess home, sorry. That’s just… wrong, ludicrous. Besides, how would you even get her from there to here? And why do you look like you just got out of the War Zone?’

  Sterling grunts as he sits on the side of his bed, which tips Halo off balance. She catches herself before she slides into him.

  Careful.

  ‘I should tell you the same thing, Halo,’ he says, the bitterness rising in his voice. ‘Now you’ve made her think I’m crazy – well, crazier, like I’m talking to an empty R Box full of lizard shit or something.’

  ‘Well,’ his sister sighs, ‘Mom’s made lunch mush. Please, leave your… um… friend here if you decide to join us.’ With that, she spins on her heel and flounces out with her nose held high.

  .2.

  ‘Damn snooty little brat,’ Sterling says as soon as his sister is gone. ‘And you aren’t helping any,’ he scolds Halo, ‘now she thinks I’ve gone mad.’

  I’ve seen you mad before.

  ‘Any more jokes?’

  No, that was the last one.

  Sterling gets the notion to give her a playful shove but immediately smothers the impulse. He can’t quite define his feelings for the Goddess of the South – a small part of him can’t stand her; another part finds her disturbingly attractive; yet another is leg-wetting, trouser-filling afraid of her. He increasingly believes that she could control him; he strongly suspects that she may already be doing so.

  Most of all, he fears the loss of control. He knows nothing about her; about who or what she is, what she wants, what she hopes to accomplish, and what role he plays in any of this.

  He fears the not knowing almost as much as he fears the loss of control.

  Halo’s expression doesn’t change. She continues to face forward with her chin raised and nostrils barely moving.

  She drops her hand onto his knee, and a jolt of… of… something shoots through him.

  I’ll tell your sister more about me in due time.

  Sterling’s eyes dart from her manicured fingers to her chest to her throat. He licks his lips, stands. ‘I have some questions for you as well,’ he says, hoping to suppress the jolt of energy that has just washed over him. He paces for a moment, clears his throat.

  Ask.

  Questions are discouraged in the Canyon. It is better to be one of the Stayed question-free, able to only answer rather than ponder, says the Book, which goes on to explain that the War of the Untold was a direct result of the very human thirst for knowledge: Too many questions led to too many answers. The thoughts of the past were discarded to make room for new thoughts and ideas. Eventually, these concepts overtook the truisms of the past. Morality and history were ignored as humanity constantly tried to improve upon itself. Do not ask questions, champion of the Stayed. Remain one of the Devout, who strives only to live by the words of the Book and the worship of the Goddess. Questioning is an incurable sickness, the indication of which is proven by the sins of the past. A life well lived is on one’s knees. Worship, obedience, inner silence – the Stayed can’t exist without these noble sacrifices.

  ‘But the Book says… ’ Sterling gulps. He notices a wisp of hair jutting out of Halo’s blinders. He gets the urge to tuck it back under but suppresses it.

  I will tell you my thoughts on the Book at a later time. Ask your questions, Sterling, or if you prefer, I can simply answer the questions without your having to give voice to them.

  ‘Do that.’

  You are curious about the man of metal bones whom you fought outside of Zander’s depot.

  ‘I am.’

  To answer – there are men of bone and sinew and there are men of wires and metal.

  ‘Living in the Canyon?’

  Yes, although the men of metal did not originate here.

  ‘Where, then?’

  You’ve had your first encounter with a man of metal. The next encounter may be more difficult and dangerous. I can’t control these men as
I can control an ordinary person of the Stayed.

  ‘Okay, fine. But where? Where are they from?’

  That’s all I know at the moment. The other question you have is about the Northern Servers.

  ‘Yes, what are they?’ The fact that there are still splotches of blood on his sleeves, reminds Sterling that he should change before he has lunch with his mother and sister. Even worse – the clothes he’s currently wearing were stripped from the body of a dead man, a Southern warrior killed in the most recent battle at the War Zone.

  Servers hold information.

  ‘Like the Book?’

  Different from the Book. Servers hold electronic information.

  ‘Electronic? Like… the fingerprint scanners at the depot?’

  Exactly.

  ‘Why are we going there?’

  To disrupt them.

  ‘Why would we do that?’

  To get into the Off Limits.

  ‘Can’t you use your mind tricks to get us in? And why do we want to go to the Off Limits anyway? What if there are metal men there?’ Sterling sees the problem with questions all too clearly. Still, the next question escapes his lips almost of its own volition. ‘Who put the Off Limits there in the first place? Who separated the Canyon into north and south?’

  They did.

  ‘They who?’

  You’ve now reached the limit of my understanding. The Northern Servers are just the start; the true answers lie within the Off Limits.

  ***

  Sterling enters the living room to find Beige sitting across from their mother.

  Her wrappings are perfectly arranged, and his sister pays close attention to her clothing as she eats, making sure that there are no loose wrappings pressing against the table and that she keeps perfect creases on the opposite side of her elbows. She’s in her best clothes, something Sterling failed to notice earlier. With gold embroidery on both of her collars and her face cover hanging loosely around her neck, it almost looks as if her head has grown out of a gray mound of cloth, the gold accents reflective enough to add a touch of flare to an otherwise ordinary Upper outfit.