Bed of Bones

This was it. It was time.1

Ethan stood behind the tall concrete barrier of their territory. A tree gave him cover, and he contemplated the consequences of what he was about to do. It wasn’t too late to turn back yet.2

But this was the man he loves, and the cult he left. Perhaps he should just give himself up. That’s all they wanted, all they asked for. But how could je give up the bright, happy future ahead of them? If there was a chance, he would go ahead and do everything he could to take it. After all, he had brought this upon himself. He joined, and changed his mind. Nobody escaped alive, and he did, and now they were taking action. Better him than Lucas.3

Ethan thought no longer. He gripped the lowest branch of the tree, which, thankfully, was in his reached, and clambered up. Lucas would do the same for him.4

Having reached the top of the solid concrete barrier, Ethan looked out at the threatening wasteland that lay ahead of him. It was not far between where he was and the main building, but it was completely open and, despite the dark, his shape would be visible to anyone whose eyes wandered his way.5

He thanked the forces of nature that it was not the new moon yet, as they would be having their monthly celebrations if it were, and the guard dogs – vicious dobermans – would be keeping watch instead of the relatively lazy Gardenkeepers. He would be quick, as he knew the premises well after eleven years of wandering them aimlessly, completely isolated from the rest of the world.6

Ethan tied the rope he had attached to his belt to a branch on the tree. Now he would simply wait. When the Gardenkeepers were investigating the dead chickens Ethan had dumped over the other side of the barrier, he would proceed in a straight line, using the mosque-resembling building to hide him from the busy Gardenkeepers.7

And there was the signal. The little dots of light from their torches were moving away until,. In a very short time, they disappeared behind the, main building. Ethan took hold of the rope and allowed his legs to ease him down the barrier in a careful but hasty manner. When his feet touched the ground, he turned and sprinted to the main building without a moment’s hesitation.8

The ground was covered in rocks and the dirt made it full of texture. He hoped that the sound of his feet hitting and shifting rocks wouldn’t attract attention. In fact, he slowed down to avoid making too much noise. The shape of the building bobbed up and down as he approached. The cool night air was crisp with the promise of rain and scraped his windpipe almost as sharply as the barbed wire would if he ran into them.9

He slowed down and stopped when he saw he was getting closer to them. Somewhere was a big sharp rock he had pushed over the exit of the tunnel he had spent months digging to freedom. A little more frantic now, he paced as far left and right of the barbed wire fence as he could without stepping into view of the people on the opposite side of the building.10

Suddenly the lights reappeared, much bigger this time. They were close and it was only a matter of time before they immobilized him.11

Ethan quickened his pace. So did the lights. He searched, almost panicked, and all the while the Gardenkeepers were more and more likely to see him. He heard one of their voices, faint, but definitely there. At last, he felt the hard surface that he sought. He prayed to whatever God there was that the tunnel was still under there, and that they had not discovered it. He placed his hands on the rock, and leaned his entire body behind his hands. With a heave, the rock shifted. He suppressed a grunt of effort. Alas, the hole was still there. He looked up, and the lights were still approaching, but slowly enough to let him think that he had not yet been seen. Ethan placed himself full length on the ground, on his stomach, and slid into the hole, hands, arms, and head first. Just as his feet slipped into the ground, the lights disappeared.12

Ethan’s body, squirming through the earth, was cold and getting colder and wetter with every inch of movement. The mud and rock made an unpleasant combination of smooth and jagged. Ethan bent his forearms under his body and army-crawled through the foul-smelling sludge. He had been underground for perhaps five minutes before it became hard to breathe. He pushed onwards.13

His shoulders were already sore. His entire body, everything he was wearing, was filthy. Grime had settled in his fine brown hair and muck was caked under his fingernails. He tried not to panic, tried not to let the thought of suffocating in there discourage him.14

“I will make it out. Alive,” he repeated, panting. He decided against speaking aloud as it would just use up precious oxygen. He pushed on, using his legs to move faster, squeezing through the narrow passage. His left shoulder hit something sharp, and it caught his shirt. As he struggled free, there was a long, harsh ripping sound followed by a piercing pain scraping, clawing, down his shoulder and arm. He winced and shuddered, then paused a moment. He shifted his shoulder away from the left and forced his upper body to the right side of the tunnel, and he proceeded with Lucas as his only motivation for not giving up.15

His body was aching and every now and again his muscles would twitch, but he was out. Ethan was now in the courtyard of the main building. He switched on the light on his wrist watch. It was 8:15. The twenty minutes he had been tunneling felt like three hours, and he was glad that he made it out at all. He had almost passed out numerous times. Now he was out, and once he found Lucas they would escape together.16

Ethan snuck past the neatly pruned bushes of the semi-circular courtyard, and scaled along one curved wall towards an inside doorway. No later than he turned around, he was faced with one night watchman. He was tall, solid, and dressed majestically in white, but was armed with a beating stick. The watchman lunged at him with the stick hovering high above his head, ready to be brought down with a skull-cracking momentum.17

The watchman brought his baton down, and Ethan was only just able to dodge it. With another swing, the baton hit Ethan on his side. He cried out in pain as the watchman swung his baton back for another hit. Ethan’s eyes widened, and he leaped backwards, then turned around and ran.18

The watchman ran after him. Ethan grabbed a fire torch that was secured loosely on a wall as he ran, and spun around to face his opponent while moving in the same direction. The torch spat a trail of gleaming orange as Ethan swung it towards the advancing watchman, and their weapons clashed. They pulled them back, and they clashed again, down near their knees this time. Ethan held the torch with both hands and flailed it wildly at the watchman at arm’s length, as if warding off an animal.19

Strange shadows were cast upon the curved white walls, and the glass roof reflected the flickering trails of flame that the torch left. He retreated his left hand, and with his right hand hurled the entire thing at the watchman, then ran. The watchman dodged the wood and fire, and ran after him, his baton still in hand.20

Adrenaline pumped through his body as he ran, sore but determined. The watchman was catching up to him. Ethan heard a clang as the baton hit the ground, and then his body was flying through the air with that of the watchman’s. They landed with a thud through the bushes of the courtyard and on the dirt, with Ethan receiving both the impact of the hard ground and the watchman’s heavy mass.21

A fist came down and Ethan received a blow to the cheekbone. His left shoulder was pinned to the ground. The watchman struck him again. Ethan hollered in pain. As the watchman’s fist prepared to come back down, Ethan took the opportunity to headbutt him in the nose. The watchman yelled and pulled back, covering his bleeding nose with both hands. Ethan grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it in his face. The watchman yelled again, and tears fell from his eyes. Ethan rolled out from under him, and the watchman got up onto his knees and stumbled blindly back and forth. Ethan punched him in the gut, and he crippled over, still holding his nose, and still with his eyes closed. Ethan stood up and slammed the side of the watchman’s head into a rock. The watchman lay still, blood gashing from some unknown destination on the side of his head facing down.22

Ethan stood, watching, waiting, then left him where he was. He jogged to an open door nearby, doubtlessly that which the watchman had come through. He went inside the building, between the curved white walls, and closed the door behind him. He continued down the corridor, and then was faced with three watchmen, two armed with batons and the one in the middle, a syringe. All three were solidly built and dressed in loose, white clothes. They walked towards him , the eerie lighting of the torches lining the walls accentuating the shadows of their bodies, emphasizing the smooth, toned muscles of their arms.23

The last thing Ethan remembered thinking was “Oh shit.”24

“Ahmund.”25

Ethan woke up cold, all his sores more painful than they had been since he had first gotten them. He was sitting in a chair, missing every piece of his mud-caked clothing. They had taken his watch, too, and his shoes.26

“Ahmund. You have chosen to return to us after all.” The man speaking was tall and dressed in black. His hair was as white as the apparently paper-thin skin that covered his face and forearms. He wore black, fingerless gloves. A faint scar occupied his right temple, and beneath his tight black shirt he was obviously strong and beautifully muscled. Ethan recognised him immediately.27

“Jahrue.”28

“That’s right, my friend. Your memory remains sharp.” Behind him were four dark men, all dressed in white. They contrasted shockingly against their leader, who was an image of opposition, himself. “We’ve been trying to track you down for four years now,” he grinned. “You’ve been very clever, Ahmund.”29

“Don’t call me that. I don’t go by that name anymore, and I never will,” Ethan snapped.30

Jahrue laughed heartily, the approached Ethan. “You were never meant to leave us. There is a price to pay for unauthorized leave.”31

“Well you’ve got me now. Let Lucas go. I’m the one you want.”32

Jahrue laughed again, then spoke. “It’s not that simple, my friend.” His voice was maliciously low and gruff.33

“I’m not your friend.”34

Jahrue ignored the comment. “You have gone against us – all our values, all that we’ve taught you. Then you come back and try to cheat your way out of the penalty, for a homosexual relationship! This is no way to repay us for all we’ve done for you. Now you must suffer the consequences.” He clicked his fingers, his piercing black stare not leaving Ethan’s gentle eyes, and one of the four men behind him came forward with a hay sack. He placed it over Ethan’s head.35

“On your feet.” Jahrue kicked Ethan in the shin. Ethan stood up. Two men took Ethan by the arms and lead him away, following Jahrue.36

Eventually, Ethan’s bare feet came into contact with the grainy texture of dry, rocky earth. The cold air whipped him like a sheet of ice on his bare skin, then he was softly submerged in it. Walking. Walking.37

They stopped.38

“You were a fighter, Ahmund. You are a fighter. The ferocity of the lions sleeps inside you. Tonight,” Jahrue removed the sack from Ethan’s head, “we wake it up.”39

Ethan was in the middle of a circle of people, the crowd lined with fire torches and bulky drums. The people were dressed in loose whiteness again, and those whose faces were not streaked with various patterns of paint were wearing animal masks. They were surrounded by a scattering of trees. The first thing that caught his attention, however, was the sack being removed from another man’s head. He was also naked, and three men were holding him in place as he struggled to break free from their grip. It was Lucas, and he was enraged. More light was available as more fires were lit.40

“You will fight him.”41

Ethan looked at Lucas, then Jahrue. “No.”42

Jahrue kept his voice calm. “We have quenched his thirst with tea from the earth. You will kill, or be killed.” The people began to beat the drums with their drumsticks, encouraging action. Jahrue and his men left Ethan and joined the circle.43

There was no way Lucas would kill him. They loved eachother too much. No way, Ethan thought. The three men holding Lucas left and joined the others.44

Lucas immediately charged towards him. Within seconds, Ethan had been tackled to the ground. In the panic and confusion, Ethan punched Lucas in the nose. If only he could convince him to snap out of it, convince him to follow his lead and fight out of the crowd and into the woods, out of sight.45

But there was nothing he could do.46

Lucas flinched back, and both stood up. They circled eachother once, twice, then Lucas lunged at him. They wrestled, shoulder to shoulder, pushing with their legs.47

Then, without warning, Lucas backed away and Ethan fell forward. He caught himself with his hands, only to be pushed down again by Lucas’ strong body. He pinned Ethan down, holding his arm behind his back and slamming his head into the ground. Ethan’s physical pain was enough to drive his animal instincts out of him like an exorcism of pure force. He straightened his arm in one fast, rigid movement, and Lucas, who had been holding on to Ethan’s wrist, was on the ground beside him.48

Both stood, bent at the knees and hips, rage clouding whatever affection was once there.49

“Motherfucker!” Ethan roared. Lucas growled and stared him down. Ethan aimed a punch at Lucas’ face. And another.50

And another.51

Lucas ducked to dodge the last one and barged Ethan in the ribs. He stumbled backwards, but caught his balance. Ethan grabbed Lucas by the shoulders, and Lucas did the same. The tightened grip on eachother as they tried to force eachother to the ground. The efforts of equal power sent them thrashing from side to side.52

Somehow, Ethan got Lucas on the ground. He was kneeling over him, Lucas between his legs, and while his arms were wildly beating the man to the rhythm of the deep drumming and chanting, seeming to keep time with the constant flickering and crackling of the fires around them, Ethan was reminded of something. In all the commotion, all the violence, the image of Lucas’ bulging, sweating muscles under him felt familiar. There seemed to be a glint of fondness in his eyes. The drug must have worn off.53

As a trace of old, humanly feeling tried to fight its way out and plow through the tough, innate actions of a beast, Lucas took Ethan’s moment of weakness and turned it against him.54

All of a sudden, Lucas was looming fiercely over him, beating him to a pulp. Ethan tuned out of the pain. His eyes slowly closed, and he weakened as everything around him – the drums, the chants, the people and their sinister animal masks, Lucas, and the hotness of all his fresh bruises – merged together, and seemed to slip away peacefully. Ethan could only focus o his thoughts.55

“Wake up,” he tried to say. “You’ve never been this angry. Wake up to what you’re doing.”56

A single, short moment of darkness embraced him in its arms before spitting him out into the real world again.57

The nefarious rhythms had stopped and been replaced by the cries of a man fighting off a horde of people, and the blows to his tender flesh from thick wooden drumsticks. The people were all around, crowding, fighting. Fighting Lucas to get to him. Hitting relentlessly and blindly at any meat they could find.58

Ethan tried to get up, but a knock to the head slowed him down. Lucas was leaning over him, shielding him from the savage thrashing with his own body. Ethan regained force, and tried to pull Lucas down and take the beating instead.59

By the time he was able to protect Lucas, it was too late. The bored, angry mob had killed him. The crowd dispersed into a wider circle as if oblivious to their actions. Ethan was left holding himself over the lifeless body of what had once been the one thing he had to live for. He stayed still for a moment, perfectly still, staring at the bruised and battered body of the beautiful man he shared his life with, watching this soul, his kindred spirit, slip away.60

Blood was slithering from his wounds like the cold serpents that had murdered him. Ethan placed his hand on Lucas’ face, feeling the warmth seeping out so quickly, and the cold fingers of death wrapping itself in its place. The morbid quiet that had taken over could well have silenced a nuclear war. Ethan looked up at the people with contempt. But Jahrue, oh, he had reserved a far deeper intensity for Jahrue.61

“Hurry up. We haven’t got all night.”62

Ethan kept digging, throwing soft earth over his shoulder as he did so.63

“Deeper,” Jahrue ordered.64

Ethan dug deeper. Fighting exhaustion, he put the shovel to the dirt. The moon was still bright in the night sky, but would soon be dimmed by the light of dawn. Ethan’s every muscle was pulsing, trying to keep him up, strong and awake. He had not shed a tear for Lucas yet. Nor had he said a word since the fight.65

“Enough. That will do fine.”66

Ethan hauled himself out of the fresh grave, and made his way to the corpse of Lucas. He looked at him for a small while, and was reminded of the good times they’d shared. He was his lifeline. His dark, vibrant hair was now dull, his tanned skin, pale, his firm body covered in bruises. Ethan picked him up and climbed into the grave to set him down more respectfully.67

This is all my fault, he thought. Lucas lay on his back, dead and naked, stripped of dignity, and the last word he had uttered to him was “motherfucker.” Ethan climbed out of the grave and picked up the shovel.68

“I’ll take that,” said one of the men in white. He snatched the shovel from Ethan’s weak grasp and knocked him in the head. Ethan tumbled into the grave, and landed on his side, half on Lucas, half in what little space was left in the tight little grave.69

Jahrue sneered, “I told you. Nobody escapes that easy.”70

Ethan’s mind was shutting down, last hearing the deep, raspy cackle of the navy-tinged man they called Jahrue. His eyes were closing, last perceiving the first light of day. The man in white began to fill the grave.71

Everything around him swirled in a massive distortion then faded to black. Ethan would finally sleep. Finally.72

Unfortunately, the truth was that he would eventually wake up.73