Chapter Two: Forgotten
The light still haunted him.
No matter how he shied from it, the pain was still there. It had been two long years since it happened, and yet his memories of that day were crystalline, and never far from his thoughts.
At first, he had tried desperately to forget; he had wandered, gravely injured, and taken shelter in the alleys where no normal dared to tread, yet still the pain and the images flooded his being. Not long after a man came running down an alley in the dead of night, seeking the cover of shadow. He waited, hidden, for his prey to stumble into his jaws, and when it did he struck with a thirst for blood that had not been a part of him before the incident.
He had killed the man, who was obviously fleeing from the scene of a crime, and by the clotting blood on his clothes he knew that the crime was a desperate one. From the man's jacket and pants he took a candy bar (blessed food!), a Rolex watch, three hundred thousand dollars cash, and glossy black Glock handgun.
He ate the candy bar quickly, cringing at its taste but grateful for food, for he had not eaten since the day of the accident. He put on the watch, which was too big round his thin wrist, and put the money in his pocket, though money had never mattered to him.
Smoothly, he placed the gun to his head and closed his eyes, feeling with some excitement the cold circular band of steel at his flesh and the relief already washing over him.
But out of the darkness a hand had come forth, smooth as quicksilver, and had plucked the weapon from his hand. He had opened his eyes and snarled at the shadow crouched before him, but the incident was still too near; pain racked his body as he tried to lunge, and he fell to his side.
" Quiet now, brother," came the stranger's voice, and he held still, head cocked awkwardly, raptly listening.
" Come with me," the stranger said, and moved off down the alleyways.
He was lucky his eyes were adapted for the darkness; the stranger's cloak was like the shadow, and he did not wait to see whether or not his newfound charge could find his way.
Quietly he followed, confused but unafraid, for he had nothing left to lose. The voice that had spoken to him had answered all his questions.
He followed the stranger for at least a mile, and then into a large tenant building, where he stepped into a lift with him and rode it all the way to the fortieth floor.
In the light of the lift car he could see the stranger's features; his head was bald, his cheekbones hollow. His teeth were yellowed and sharp, as were his nails, and his eyes were a dark blue. His skin was white, not yellowed like the rest of him. His whole body mirrored neglect, but at the same time he seemed clean and genuine, and he scrutinised his charge with an interest bordering on fascination.
Before long the doors slipped open with a breathless hiss, and he followed the stranger out into a long hallway, at the end of which was a door through which they entered.
Most of the beings within the room looked the same as the stranger-- who later revealed his name, "Lorne"-- but their bodies stank of said neglect, and many bore sores that wept clear fluid which ran down their skin like sweat. Very few really looked at him; all turned their heads in his direction, but their flat gazes and pale eyes told him all he needed to know: most of them were blind. The rest had eyes of the same hue as Lorne's, and they watched him with guarded interest. One girl who did not look so decrepit as the rest ventured forth to touch his skin, breathing deeply, and Lorne handed her a long band of rubber, which she tied round the upper part of his arm, ignoring his flinches. Beside her Lorne had withdrawn a glass phial of white powder from his pocket, and was busy heating the contents in a spoon; the flame of his lighter flickered and many of the others screwed up their hideous faces in some unknown emotion.
Soon the powder was liquid, and Lorne drew forth a small wad of cotton batting, which he used to soak up the contents of the spoon. The girl, whom he referred to as Gaelie, handed him a hypodermic needle, and he withdrew the liquid into the cotton ball into the barrel of the syringe. Gaelie went to her own corner, leaving Lorne in peace with his charge, whom he led gently to another small room just off the main one. This room was oddly empty of people, and Lorne lay him gently upon the floor, his back pressed up against the wall to keep him sitting. They both looked down to the throbbing in his arm, where a vein stood up reluctantly.
Lorne's thin lips curved upward into a smile.
He closed his eyes as Lorne's needle sank into his arm, and a cry escaped from his lips involuntarily as he felt the warmth shoot through the network of his veins. His breath escaped him in harsh pants as ecstasy mingled with agony, and suddenly through the haze he was aware of Lorne's dark eyes on his own, face inches from him.
His hands fluttered to Lorne's face, spread like starfish, and Lorne's breath was hot against his cheek as he whispered, " I know what you are. Now, you are one of us: my son, their leader. May all your nightmares be forgotten."
Had he known they were only beginning, it would not have mattered.
Gaelie returned shortly before dawn. She swept quietly into the room, smelling of incense and cigarette smoke and the night.
She regarded the shadowed corner, and withdrew from her long coat a rectangular plastic case, which tinkled as it moved.
" Here- it's clean," she said, and watched as a long-fingered hand clad in black gloves reached out and plucked the package from her hands, pulling it into the darkness. A moment later she heard the glass tinkling freely, and a reverent sigh escaped the shadow.
" I shouldn't have doubted you." Another sigh. " Shit… this is good stuff."
The box was handed back, minus four phials of white powder, and Gaelie smiled, pleased. She sat down opposite the shadow and grabbed two rubber bands from off of the floor, listening as within the shadow the minute sound of glass tapping against metal filled her senses. Moments later a lighter flared, and the shadow, normally nearly tangible, fled up the walls and crouched, trembling, in the corners of the ceiling, and Gaelie smiled again as she beheld the mutant.
His skin was green, though it was difficult to determine in the quality of the light, and his hair was black as far as she could tell, all done up in spikes. Gaelie had always wondered what powers he possessed, as she did with the others who had become Forgotten, but he would never reveal them no matter how she urged.
He had transformed since he had first arrived; the drug was what had done it. Like the others in the room, including Gaelie herself, he now wore a ring of silver in the centre of his lower lip, and a curved, sharpened bar pierced the skin between his eyes. His features were now marred by the rings, changed by them, and his eyes, once dark and liquid and beautiful, were now showing signs of the same blindness that afflicted most of the others. One was completely white and sightless, and the eye that remained bore only a shadow of its former beauty, for the white film had made it cloudy and frightening. His bones stuck out from his parchment-like skin, and his nails were long and sharp, not yellow but dark green-- a facet, Gaelie supposed, of his mutation. His teeth were the same; sharp, transformed by the drug as the rest of his body had been, and his once powerful legs lay wasted, tucked beneath him, for he rarely moved at all.
He looked up suddenly from his work over the spoon and caught her looking, and he hissed at her like a snake.
" Gerroff it- quit staring or I'll black yer eyes."
" Sorry," she said, and quickly looked away, frightened of his power. Though there was no leader of the creatures in the room, she always felt a deep sense of respect for him, and looked at him as though it was he who presided, for he was the child of Lorne; it was Lorne who had given him power.
She looked up again as he gently took a band from her and tied it round his arm. Gaelie shook away her musings and did the same, watching as the cotton ball was lowered into the spoon and the flame flickered out, leaving him in shadow again. A few moments later a needle was thrust from the darkness out at her, and she took it gratefully, her gut twisting painfully with withdrawal. Slowly she lowered the needle into her flesh and gave a sigh of satisfaction as the warmth flooded through her. From the shadow came a groan, and she knew he had taken his share.
Through her haze she was aware of the others converging upon her, some watching her intently, some feeling about blindly for the right way to go. Presently a weight was lifted from her lap and she dimly recognised that the others had taken the box for their share. She heard their whispers of pleasure and smiled before the blackness swirled up from the floor and took her far away.