The Hidden — Chapter Eighteen: Slaves — T.D. Barton & Derek Barton

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:  SLAVES

The slave chambers were filthy. The stench of unwashed human habitation hung in the air and clung to the sides of Zelda’s throat like syrup. She was far too exhausted at this point, however, to care. The only thing Zelda was vaguely aware of was the light. It drifted in from the edges of her consciousness, and her tortured mind could not distinguish whether it was real or imagined. The soft, unsteady glow filtered in past her lashes and through the half-closed lids of her eyes.

The she-beast, Tonrah, had half-way dragged, half-way driven her to this place after a long journey down the tunnel. The creature was exceptionally strong, and when she had tossed her like a pile of rags onto the floor of this room, Zelda had been only semi-conscious.

She was far beyond tears, as she shut her eyes and allowed her mind to drift away to another place. It was safe there and more pleasant. The sun was shining brightly and she strolled, waist-deep, through a field of brilliant yellow flowers. Above her, high in an unblemished sky of cool porcelain blue, a red-tailed hawk keened its high, piercing cry. Zelda lay back in this field and watched the hawk soaring in great, lazy circles as it road the thermal currents and hung effortlessly in the air. How wonderful it would be to sail away with the breeze that way – distancing herself from all the cares of life and the worries of the world! She gathered a deep breath, letting it out slowly in a long, luxurious sigh, feeling the summer sun on her skin and the cool breeze as it brushed her face.

When she opened her eyes, the sun had been replaced by a shimmering, yellow light that jumped and danced amidst a black void. The field beneath her was gone and what remained was hard cool stone, littered with dirt and gravel. The breeze had blown away and left in its stead the reek of human feces and rotting garbage. She felt something slither wetly across her cheek and reached up to pull a garden slug which balled up in her palm, leaving a slimy film in its wake. She grimaced and flung the creature to the floor with a shudder.

As she wiped her hand on her thigh, she looked about. Around the walls, at various intervals and heights, torches drove back the eternal night of this subterranean prison. They were placed haphazardly, with no apparent design in mind, simply wherever a rock jutted out to give purchase or a crack split the wall, offering a place to wedge the stock. They sputtered and danced, and they belched black, sooty smoke all over the ceiling wherever they were placed; but to Zelda, so long plunged into abysmal darkness, they gave off a lovely light, nonetheless. It was a luxury she could scarcely have hoped for. She was certain Susie would have loved to see them, if only she had lived.

It was somewhat warmer here, perhaps due to the torches, but she was still very cold. Zelda sat up, shivering, in the middle of the room and peered into the dark corners. Gradually, she became aware of the fact that she was being watched. She could make out sinister shapes huddling in the shadows and feel their eyes upon her. She drew back instinctively, but as she cast her frightened gaze about, she saw that she was surrounded on all sides by these forms. They lined the walls, peering out at her and sitting very still. In dark despair, she wondered what kind of hell had she been cast into now.

Since the discovery in the clearing of the severed head, she had encountered worse nightmares than she could ever have imagined. These new creatures were different than the wolf-like terrors that had devoured her husband and sent little Susie screaming to her death, but somehow they frightened her even more. Sitting quietly in the shadows, they cast a ghoulish persona. It made her think of horrid, nightmarish creatures, waiting to crawl into the grave with you.  Then they would thrust their rotting, corpse faces into yours and grin their gap-toothed grins. Meanwhile, their black tongues slithered dryly across your cheek, making you scream and scream and scream in silent protest while your face remained frozen in the rictus of the dead.

While she cringed in horrified uncertainty, one of the watchers rose and slowly approached her. It stopped a few feet away and stood, silhouetted, against the light of the torch blazing behind it on the wall. Its features were lost in the dark, but its form showed clearly against the light. It was painfully thin, with long, stringy hair standing out in silvery puffs and curls about its head like an aura in a Curlean photograph. It wore a thin, shift-like garment which was translucent as the torchlight shone through it. Its scrawny arms hung at its sides until it raised them to reach, with bony fingers, toward her. With a start, Zelda realized it was speaking to her.

“Don’t be afraid.” Its voice cracked and grated like rusted gears in the throat of a machine. “You belong with us now. The struggle will only bring you grief.  Better to accept your new life here.”

The apparition took a couple more shuffling steps toward Zelda which brought it out of the shadows and into the light of another torch on the opposite wall. Zelda could make out the features of its face and saw that, although she had a definite witch-like appearance, she was really just an old woman — dirty, unkempt and abused, but certainly human.

“Who –” her voice caught in her parched throat and she struggled for a moment to breathe as her windpipe threatened to collapse. At last, she was able to continue, but her voice was so harsh and raspy she scarcely recognized it as her own. “Who are you?” she managed.

“You must be terribly thirsty.” The creaky old voice sounded sympathetic. “Hungry too, I’ll bet. Here, let us help you!”

Another of the group came forward with a cup in her hand. The first one took it and kneeled beside Zelda. The water smelled of minerals.  The tin cup was rusty where the porcelain covering had chipped but Zelda drank greedily from it. She relished the feeling of the water pouring down her throat and cooling the burning in her gut. Her hands trembled as she held it out to the old woman, begging silently for more. “Slowly, slowly,” the hag warned. “There will be more for you in a moment. Let’s get you warmed up.”

She took Zelda’s hand in hers, and she thought they felt like two frogs — soft, cold and clammy. The old woman pulled her to her feet and they worked their way across the cave to the edge of the room. There, she saw the others were stretched out or seated on mats of woven weeds and branches, which were placed paralleling the walls. Each of the mats had one or two occupants, and in the dim light of the torches, Zelda could see they were all women. Some of them were younger than others, but all of them looked misused and like refugees from a concentration camp.

As she and the old crone approached, one of the “refugees” scooted over on her mat, allowing room for Zelda to sit. Someone draped a heavy blanket about her shoulders and heavenly warmth enfolded her, making her feel human again. Another cup of water was handed to her and she drank, somewhat more slowly this time. Between sips, she gazed around the room.

It was a large chamber with a high, domed ceiling. In the dancing light, she could make out bats, hanging high up on the roof of the cave, shifting and jockeying for position, and sending out a chorus of high-pitched squeaks. Some of them swooped in low arcs back and forth across the cave, always returning to their roosts amidst the seething mass on the ceiling. Their guano carpeted the floor of the room, and Zelda could see worms and bugs feeding in its sticky depths. The door to the chamber was dark and a couple of natural steps led up to it. Apparently, this was the only lighted room, as the Kophet-kur did not require assistance to find their way about. There were perhaps twenty of the slave-women lounging about the room and most were in various stages of pregnancy.

The old woman had left for a moment and now she returned with a smelly rag in her hand. She held it out and motioned for Zelda to clothe herself with it. As she pulled it over her head, Zelda realized it was some type of sweater. The fabric was stiff and coarse, but it was better than sitting around in nothing but a bra. The woman sat down beside her and Zelda asked again, “Who are you?”

The witch’s leathery face cracked in a benevolent smile. “My name is Lynette,” she said and her hand came up to brush at her hair. “I am the vessel of Rihlkah, captain of the guards. I am also the oldest of the slaves, second only to Alice.” She looked apprehensively over her shoulder. “Alice is asleep right now. You would do better to keep your distance from her.  She’s the leader of the slaves and very strong. She also has a bad temper.”

“How did you come to be here?” Zelda asked.

The old woman wrinkled her brow and thought for a moment. “It was in the spring… five or six years ago. My father and I were canoeing down the river. We lived in Michigan, and our favorite hobby was canoeing. Well, actually, it was HIS favorite hobby. MY favorite hobby was being with my father.”

She smiled in an impish, childish way that didn’t quite suit her features.

“Anyway, we were paddling down the river when a low-hanging branch caught him off-guard and we capsized. Ordinarily, this would have been no big deal — we knew what to do in a situation like that — but in the middle of everything, my father’s heart let go.  I don’t know if he had a weak heart and just didn’t tell me about it.  That would’ve been just like him.  Or if it caught him as much by surprise as it did me. Whatever the case, by the time I pulled him up on the bank of the river he was already dead.”

 She stared off into the darkness of the cave for a moment. Bringing the back of her hand across her eyes, she swiped away the tears that had gathered there and, after taking a breath continued. “I tried C.P.R. but it was no use. His lips were blue and cold… For a long time, I just sat by the river holding his head in my hands. Then I got up and began looking for the canoe. It must’ve been swept down-river by the current because I couldn’t find it anywhere. At last, I gave up searching and set off through the forest. I’d hoped to find my way back to a road and hitch a ride, but I never made it out of the woods. Rihlkah captured me and brought me back here to serve as a vessel for five children, all of whom are now serving the Kophet-kur.” Again she smiled, lifting her chin proudly, and throwing her shoulders back.

Zelda didn’t fully understand. “You have children… here?” she asked, hesitantly.

“I have five children.” Lynette boasted. Then, quickly, she added, “But they don’t live here with the slaves. No, no! They have been placed in several different cities, throughout the country. They will grow to be fine, strong assets to the cause, you’ll see. I have pictures, would you like to see them?”

Of course, Zelda nodded. What woman has ever refused to look at pictures of another woman’s children? Lynette reached beneath her shift, pulling out a bundle of cloth, tied with string, from which she produced a stack of photographs. They were dog-eared and cracked from excessive handling.  She had trouble distinguishing much, the light being what it was, but, from what she could make out, there was something odd about them. Each photograph featured a different family, but the children of Lynette were easily recognizable. She had large, jug ears, and a peculiar, pinched look about the eyes and these features had been passed on to her offspring. But, as the old woman caressed and fussed over each picture, Zelda realized what had struck her as odd about them: There were no smiles. In all, there must have been a dozen pictures, but in none of them did the children smile. Each little facsimile of Lynette had the most serious, studied, maybe even tortured look in their face.

Zelda wondered what was wrong with these children. What had stolen away the exuberance of youth? And what kind of woman conceives in an environment like this? Suddenly it all became clear, and she nearly choked in response to the thought.

“Lynette, are you telling me–” She wasn’t sure she could finish the question. It was madness! But, then again, this whole place resided in madness. Insanity was the grease that lubricated its gears. nonsense had become reality and horror was the norm. She locked eyes with the old woman and plunged ahead.

“Did you conceive children with these… things?”

Lynette’s watery eyes held her gaze and she could see hurt there — and an insane pride in her accomplishment. She drew herself up and her lip trembled slightly as she spoke.

“I have no need to justify myself to you,” she said, her voice was scalding in its vehemence. “My children are the combination of two great races. The human race has accomplished many things over the centuries, and they carry the seed of The Fathers in their genes. Only in their abuse of the environment have they shown their incompetence. The Fathers will be returning someday to claim their prize, and humans have shown themselves to be poor caretakers of that prize. The Fathers will see that the Kophet-kur care for the earth and all of its creatures, and, once they have mastered human technology, the Kophet-kur will be the obvious choice to carry on the work of The Fathers. My children will not only be here to see that glorious day, they will be instrumental in bringing it about. For this reason, I am very proud to be the vessel of Rihlkah’s seed. He holds the esteem of all in the pack, and he has passed on his many strengths to my children.”

Zelda tried hard to make some sense of what Lynette was saying, but she wasn’t having much luck. It all sounded practiced, as though she were reciting it by rote. The words were not Lynette’s.

“Who are The Fathers?” Zelda asked.

Lynette’s voice returned to normal and took on a patient, understanding tone. “The Fathers are the ones who placed us, both humans and Kophet-kur, here on this earth. They endowed each race with intelligence and left us on our own to develop as we would. Soon they will return to reunite with the most successful of their children. The Kophet-kur use us to help them become the most successful. Do you understand?”

“I think I’m beginning to,” Zelda answered, but she wasn’t sure what to think. “Its a contest of some kind — us versus them — and for some reason, you want THEM to win!”

“The Kophet-kur send our children to be raised among humans so that they may learn their secrets and bring them back to be put to use here,” Lynette continued, ignoring the sarcasm in Zelda’s remark.

“Okay,” Zelda was getting a bead on it now. “So, after you have the children, how do they get delivered to these human families? Obviously, the creatures can’t just stroll into the city and ask someone directions to the nearest adoption agency…”

“Our children are raised by grown children of previous generations. There are contacts in your world who act as runners. They come here and take our children, delivering them to the families who are to raise them. When they, in turn, are grown, they will return to the Kophet-kur to help in educating, building, designing and in many other ways, to build the empire of the Kophet-kur.”

“Why don’t these half-breed children simply breed amongst themselves? Obviously, this has been going on for several generations, so why not cut out the slavery and breed your own spies?” Zelda had a very analytical mind and she couldn’t help finding the flaws in this incredible plan.

“Like all hybrids, werewolves cannot reproduce. Human vessels are needed to carry the seed of the Kophet-kur. You too will have the opportunity to serve, and once you have become pregnant with one of these beautiful children, you will begin to understand and appreciate how appropriate and right is the cause.”

“Werewolves! Is that what you call them? I’m sure I’ll want to pass up that opportunity if you don’t mind.” The two sat in silence for a moment.  Zelda thought how ironic it would be if she, who had so wanted a family, were to be forced into serving as a baby-maker for little “werewolf” children. The faces of little Susie and her dead husband swam before her mind’s eye, and she ached from sadness.

Suddenly another thought occurred to her.  “Lynette, I couldn’t help notice how young the children were in the photographs. If you’ve only been here five years, and you’ve had five children, those pictures couldn’t have been taken long ago. If you don’t mind my asking, just how old ARE you?” She waited quietly while Lynette did the math in her head.

“I’m thirty-two.”

As Lynette spoke, there was a commotion behind them and Zelda turned to see the coarsest-looking, wildest woman she’d ever seen crossing to the center of the room. While she watched aghast, the woman rubbed her eyes, sleepily, and scratched her protruding belly.  Zelda was undecided whether she was pregnant or just inordinately fat. Her hair was dark and tangled, spilling in thick matted clumps down to her shoulders and she wore a loose dress of some unidentifiable, heavy fabric. The dress was sleeveless, and her thick arms bulged from it like fat sausages. Cellulite rippled the skin, which hung loosely, in great wattles of flesh alongside her body. Her forehead was wide and low, with bushy eyebrows concealing the tiny, dark little caverns of her eye sockets. She had a stupid, surly look about her that made Zelda immediately wary.

“Alice is awake,” Lynette whispered, and there was a definite note of dread in her creaky voice.

As Lynette spoke, the enormous woman turned her head and trained her bleary eyes on them. She appeared to be having some trouble focusing for a moment but then, with a slow, hulking motion, she started toward them.

“She’s Chirkah’s!” Lynette cried out quickly, draping a protective arm around Zelda’s shoulders. Alice stopped in front of them and leaned over to glare directly into Zelda’s face.

“Is that a fact?” she sneered, and Zelda thought her breath was worse than the creatures she had encountered. She noticed that the few remaining teeth showing in Alice’s mouth were black and rotting. “She carryin’ yet?” Alice straightened back up and regarded Zelda maliciously.

“Chirkah has been out hunting all day,” Lynette answered.

“Good. I wouldn’t want to hurt the baby.” With an evil smirk, Alice unleashed a beefy right hand, striking Zelda square in the mouth, knocking her backward into the wall and re-opening the cut on her lip. Dazed, she brought her hand up to feel blood spurting from her throbbing mouth and looked up into the broad face of her attacker.

“We gotta get one thing straight,” Alice shouted. “I run the roost around here.  Shut up, Lynette!” Lynette was crying and wailing something about Alice not having to do that and how they should all try to get along for the good of the cause. She was waving one hand defensively in front of her and tugging on her hair with the other.

Alice continued introducing herself to Zelda. “You keep that in mind, girlie, and we’ll get along just fine. I don’t give two shits if you ARE Chirkah’s girlfriend. You get uppity with me and I’ll beat you like a red-headed stepchild, got it?”

“Got it,” Zelda replied, nodding meekly.

Alice turned on one heel and made her way back across the room without a backward glance. The fat between her legs made her waddle and her huge body swayed back and forth.

Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down! Zelda thought crazily as she wiped at her broken mouth and scooted back over while Lynette offered apologies for Alice’s behavior and gave soothing assurances that everything would be all right.

“She’s had her fun. She’ll leave you alone now. You just be sure and stay out of her way.”

Zelda wanted to cry, but she fought it back blinking away the tears.

“That’s the way,” encouraged Lynette. “Don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You’re tough! You will have strong children for Chirkah.”

Zelda had had just about enough of this two-bit Bolshevik and her party drivel. She’d had a rough day, to say the least, and her nerves were somewhat on edge. “Don’t you bet on it sister,” she snapped. “I don’t plan to be anybody’s vessel. First chance I get I’m getting the hell out of here and if I take a couple of these dog-faced creeps with me, then so much the better. Do you think I wanna wind up looking like Alice or you — old and worn out before my time?” She reached around and pulled the blanket back over her shoulders. When she looked at Lynette again, she felt sorry for what she’d said. The woman was smoothing down her gray hair, trying, unsuccessfully, to bring the tangled mass under control. She sat stiffly beside Zelda and looked shyly off into the center of the room. Zelda looked around at the others and saw that several of them were watching her curiously. She turned back to Lynette again and apologized.

“I didn’t mean what I said about your looking old and worn out. I was — well, you know. It’s been a really hard day and…”

Lynette turned around, cheerily tossing off her hurt attitude. “You’ll change your mind about leaving and the cause and all once you’re pregnant,” she prattled. “You just wait and see! In the meantime, let’s see about getting you something to eat.” She jumped up and hurried off, leaving Zelda to shake her head in wonder.

After Lynette disappeared, Zelda looked around at some of the others. The closest to her was a young black girl with the round belly of advanced pregnancy. She smiled as best she could with her swollen lips and said hello.

“Is she always like that?” she asked good-naturedly.

“Lynette’s a good woman.  She mus’ like you or sumpin.” The girl spoke slowly, and Zelda thought she recognized a Chicago accent. Before she could ask more, however, the girl got up from her mat and walked away.

Apparently, everyone isn’t as friendly as Lynette! Zelda told herself, stretching out on the vacated mat to rest.

By the time Lynette returned with her food, Zelda was fast asleep.  She decided to let her rest. It was just as well because Zelda would not have been impressed with the menu — it was still wiggling.