There was a wet sound coming from beyond the door. It sounded like the squelching of oil and flesh. Eighteen hadn't quite heard the likes of it, but the sound slipped under the door and right into her ears. Her eyelids snapped open, and then half lidded, as she laid in the quietness of the room. There wasn't much more than the pallet bed under her and a wardrobe in the corner. It appeared that the people of this village didn't have much as far as their means went.
Still, the sound continued from outside the room. A number of answers ran through her mind. This wasn't her home, and she had no idea what her guests were into. It could have been...well, it could have been someone having intercourse. However, the wetness of the noise made her wrinkle her nose and change her mind.
Then she realized, as she recalled hours prior, in the open space comprised of both kitchen and living space. She had had stew, full of meat that she hadn't quite gotten the name of. The smell of the stew was still thick in the air, mixed with the bittersweet scent of the herbs that hung in every space of the home. That was it, she surmised, Martha was likely at work butchering whatever was the next meal.
It was hard to tell the time, the small, modest window only let dim violet light into the bedroom. It was almost always the same shade outside. However, having been so in tune with her own body, being an android, she had to guess that she had only slept for about three hours. Eighteen hadn't been sleeping well, regardless of what noises did or didn't wake her in the night. She had been traveling for so long since departing her realm, dreams of her old life haunted her, and left her reeling once reality returned.
She sat in the darkness, holding out a pale hand. The soft light fell on each digit, and she stared, mesmerized. First, the light had begun to dim. It had once been bright, almost as ethereal as a false sun, at least eluding to a daylight of sorts. It was a constant. Now, however, she noticed the keen difference in Ioun's light since the shadow had taken over in the sky before finding this town. From what she knew, the only night that came was from this phenomenon. It was in full swing, now.
“True Night,” came a small voice from the door.
Eighteen's gaze snapped to the door, but it wasn't open and no one was there. She did, however, see a set of eyes, wide and intense, peering from under the crack of the door. Her brows raised in surprise. Just as soon as she'd seen him, Charles was off, barely a whisper of his steps disappearing down the hall to the right. Those eyes, beyond the door, had been something else. Just like earlier. “Something is not right with these people,” she whispered to herself and stood from her place of rest.
The girl pulled on her socks, pants, and long sleeved shirt. Her fur jacket was rolled up and bundled with her pack, left to the side. She put on her heavy boots and tied them up, tight and secure, before proceeding to the door. It was never too early to see what the fuck was going on.
Slowly, and quietly, the android opened the door into the hallway. She peered first down to the right, supposedly where the boy had gone. To her surprise, she heard his voice from the other direction. Confusion set in, as she could have sworn he had gone one way only.
“...run off, stupid boy,” she heard Martha whisper harshly.
The sounds that had roused her from her sleep resumed harshly, louder than seemed possible. Squishing and squelching vibrated into her eardrums and made her grip the door. “What is in those herbs?” she whispered and moved slower yet, a toe into the corridor. A hazy sensation clouded her vision, but she shook it off and chalked it up to the intensity of the damn herbs in the pot.
The girl stepped gently into the open room, whose kitchen was one counter along the wall, a modest and affordable fridge at one end and a stove at the other. She opened her mouth to say something, as Martha turned toward her with a butcher knife in one hand and a long tendril of organ meat in the other. All thoughts and words were lost on the android when her gaze went from the stunned expression on Martha's face and the slaughtered presentation on the counter.
“Damn it, Charles, look what you've done.”
“No, Ma, it was you n' that work you're doing, woke me too,” he argued with indignant attitude. He stood a few feet away with arms crossed against his chest.
“I'll deal with her in a minute, make sure she doesn't leave, I'm almost done.”
“What...” Eighteen stared in horror, allowing her thoughts to catch up. She had survived a multitude of dimensions, tournaments, horror shows, but never had she witnessed cannibalism.
Martha wrapped her fingers around the child's ankle, jerking it up and away from the pelvis, exposing the hip joint. She swiftly laid the butchers blade into the soft, still pink flesh of the babe, severing hip and leg with one devastating blow. Eighteen's eyes widened in true horror while the woman grabbed the malleable, fatty skin and layers, ripping it down like a rabbits skin to reveal the tender muscles of the leg. It was merely a baby, not yet a year old if she had to guess. Half of the torso was ripped open, organs separated.
“Good thing you came, girl,” she said as she worked, “last of our supply right here, we would have gone hungry over the True Night. Babies don't last as long as adults, and well...the last traveler one got away.”
The realization hit her before the nausea did, and before she knew it she was doubling over as stomach cramps wracked her body. She vomited all over the wooden floor boards at her feet and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Chunks of partially digested meat swam in the acidic fluids, prompting her to reel in revulsion and further vomit into another fit.
Charles laughed from the side. “Shit, it's like she's just realized, ma.”
“Good thing we got those herbs from the mine, they're working good on this one.”
Eighteen heard their voices but the watering in her eyes had her suddenly forgetting who was where. What the hell? This shit wouldn't have gotten me so twisted back home, she swore to herself, but knew that it couldn't be helped. She was a fraction of the woman she had once been. All of the power she had possessed had been left behind. Now, in this world, on this barren rock, she was hardly more than foot soldier. They didn't know, however, that she wasn't exactly all she appeared to be.
When her senses returned, Martha was expertly dicing the forbidden meat and rendering the flesh and sinew from bone and muscle. She wasn't new to this. How long, Eighteen wondered, had this gone on? No, she thought, why not ask?
“Why?” she let out as a croak, internally forcing down the thought of infanticide and the stench of blood. “Why are you eating human meat?” she asked point blank. She ran the back of her hand, and sleeve, along her mouth. A sheen of sweat had built on her brow, and her blue gaze located Charles leaning against the entrance with a flimsy knife now in his hands.
“Weren't you even listening to what I had to say?” she turned on Eighteen now. She wiped her hands off in her apron, using the material to soak up the blood dripping from each finger. “The supplies are low, the mines are abandoned, and I'm not eating no fucking insect.”
She was referring to the Xenomorphs and other such creatures. It was during True Night that they made their frequent terror. According to her story, the rest of the village was out hunting, and it was likely they were feeding on the meat of the dangerous night dwelling denizen of this planet. Almost all of the wildlife on this planet was in one way or another an insect or a mutant. You wouldn't find a rabbit if your life depended on it.
“So you eat babies?” Eighteen let out vehemently, her fingers tightening into fists. It was mere insanity, and the question of why, that had her from moving. Fear wasn't really on her vocabulary.
“We don't discriminate, honey,” Martha laughed. She placed a stained hand onto the lump of dismembered flesh, whose hair was downy soft and still well intact, remarkably without gore on it. The child's head was, thank the gods, facing toward the wall and could have easily been otherwise that of a doll. Martha all but played with the locks of gold hair, and in those eyes of hers, she held no soul. “Elizabeth left this one on her own, anyway. What was I supposed to do, take care of it? When that last visitor got away, we had no choice. Beth's been in those mines a long, long time...”
Eighteen, now with her senses and doing her best to ignore whatever hallucinogen was in those burning herbs, surveyed her options. “Look, you're not going to like this, but you don't really have a choice,” she said, gaze on the woman again. “I'm not exactly edible.”
“Sure you are, look at those muscles. You've been busy. Girl, once you just relax and let the smoke take over you'll feel much better. Charles, put s'more on that fire.” She pointed at the pot in the middle of the room. It was like a magical artifact, a honeypot for travelers. The once bitter scent had grown increasingly sweet. Why was it that they were immune?
“We eat it,” she laughed.
Eighteen hadn't realized she asked that last thought aloud. “Easy to build immunity. Now, get back to your room. We'll get to you once I've finished here.”
“I'm not human,” Eighteen spat, the room was beginning to tilt as she watched Charles lazily sprinkling the green leaves. Her feet felt heavy, and her gut felt like a stone sat within it. All she had wanted was a nice meal, a good sleep, and to carry on with her mundane existence. It didn't appear she would get that as this nut case of a woman and her child were beyond reasoning. Also, she couldn't kill them. She couldn't kill them, either.
There was more here than seemed obvious. An absence was in their eyes, and the state of the village spoke volumes. She'd heard small stories in scattered taverns on Inverxe regarding the psychosis that overwhelmed abandoned villages. Without proper support from empire or kingdom they were not going to survive the radiation, or the depth of the rock beneath their feet. She'd heard enough to know that Inverxe was not a harmless place to live. It was violent, and it was incredibly lonely. Most of all, though, it was where she was living now.
“Fucking hell,” she swore and pressed her hands to her face. “I swore I wouldn't fight anymore, but this is hitting the goddamn limit.” Eighteen immediately lifted a hand and aimed it at the pot of herbs, and coincidentally, the boy. A bright light illuminated within her outward palm, forming a ball of energy unlike any they had ever seen, and she tilted her head back. The outward presence of indecision and confusion slipped from her posture, replaced by a seasoned warrior. “Move, kid, or you're going to feel this in the morning.”
Charles jumped with a sudden cry as the orb of energy collided with the center of the room. Wood, plaster, and herb-embers went flying in all directions. Eighteen took that moment to stroll determinedly down the hallway and into the guest room. She snagged her backpack and shrugged it over her shoulders, snapping the straps tight, and turning on her toe.
“No, you don't,” Martha said from the corridor, her portly figure now blocking the way. A fire was starting to lift to life behind her from the chaos. Nothing they couldn't handle, she figured.
“Look, it's obvious I don't have time to deal with this right now. Do you want to live? Or do you want to keep going on like a fucking psychotic moron?” The android shot angrily. It had been a mistake to stop here, but now, seeing what the root of the issues had caused, she felt obligated to figure out the cause. If Martha and Charles were this nuts, who else was chewing on their neighbor?
It had been easy sailing up to this point. Eighteen had, for the most part, made it several months – maybe even a year or more – without drama or fighting. It was a nice, interesting choice, compared to the life of combat she once lived. She'd traveled like a vagabond, stopping only for a night or two, not really making a connection either way. She was searching for something, or someone. Home, maybe. The possibility was always in her head. However, that all changed, as she tasted the bile in the back of her throat. Fucking, fuck, was that a baby she ate last night? If things hadn't changed years ago she'd have murdered Martha without batting an eye. If anything, that dead baby was a clearly good reason to get out of retirement.
Speaking of, Martha had lost it, and was hacking at Eighteen with the butcher knife. Eighteen may have been a fraction of her old power, but she wasn't obsolete. She dodged with such fluidly that she was able to calmly move left, right, and back before snatching Martha's wrist. With a flick she broke the several bones that comprised her hand and wrist joints. The woman fell in pain, crying like the weak human being she was, and Eighteen stepped back once more. Charles was already at his mothers side, the pair like two peas in a pod.
“When this is over you two are going somewhere.”
They looked up at her, as she paused, her finger pointing at them. “I don't know where that would be, but it'll be somewhere,” she added pointedly, hesitating at the thought.
Outside she felt the cold of the wintry air on her face and smelt the burning of the wood. She could already see that the fire was being dealt with as it began to die down, and her footsteps took her further into the town. By now Eighteen had convinced herself that there was no turning away now. It was, as always, time to be a hero again.
“Why did it have to be cannibalism?” she sighed.
One house revealed a doorway that was boarded up from the INSIDE. The door itself was gone, replaced by boards that were nailed expertly over the entrance. A single hole was cut, the size of a goofball, and from it she saw a single eyeball staring at her. Red streaks filled the sclera, a dilated pupil in the throes of psychosis, and whatever else, peered into her soul. She heard him breathing from behind the wood as she stood three paces away.
“What's your damage?” she asked.
Heavy breathing followed, his eyeball pulsed. Was it alive? Was it another entity on it's own? A gentle thumping hit the makeshift door, rhythmic and continuous. She flicked her gaze two feet down the planks, and then let out a sound of disgust. “Are you for real?”
“Pretty.” The voice was thick, guttural, and shaking. “I'm gonna fuck you from here.”
Eighteen stood silent for a moment. Again, ignoring the insanity, she saw that in his single eye, there was not much beyond his basal intensity. Everyone had gone bonkers here. She moved away from the door, as the thumping got louder, pretending she'd never even encountered the situation. It wouldn't be the first time a man had been violent in her direction.
Further investigation revealed several houses either abandoned, partaking in sexual indecency, dead bodies in corners, and mysterious dismembered body parts. She finally came upon one house that had a light glowing in the front window. She stopped several feet outside, her eyes roaming the wooden boards from ground to sky. A figure peeked from the window, and she locked eyes with them.
As she took a step closer, the light turned off, and she ceased in her motion. The door opened slowly and a roll of paper flew through the sky. Just as quickly the door closed and Eighteen was left to search for the paper in the cold snow.
“Help. Don't enter. Help us please.”
She paused, and her gaze lifted to the window again. There was three sets of eyes now, each of them belonging to children ranging in ages, but no more than the same age as Charles. Maybe they weren't crazy yet...but she took the words seriously. Don't go in...she wasn't going to risk it.
Once she'd finished surveying the town she found one of the empty houses, a shack more like, and unpacked her bag. “Okay, fine, you want it that way,” she said to herself. “I'll play.”
She set down each of her items on the small table beside an equally small window and arranged them just so. It was darker than it had been this past few weeks. True Night was when chaos was bound to ensue. She wouldn't let it. Obviously she was here for a reason. Shit had been going on long before the night had fallen, so time wasn't going to fix it. She would find out the truth soon enough, first, however, she needed to deal with the longest night of her life.