John Brosnan - The Sky Lords

The metal net that had dropped neatly over Milo’s head took them both equally by surprise.

The wooden cage, mounted on two big wheels and hauled by a team of sick-looking bullocks, trundled slowly through the blight land. Jan and Milo weren’t the only prisoners. There were three others in the cage with them. Two of them were male, one a female. They were all dressed in dirty robes that covered everything but their faces. They wore the same expression of sullen resignation. Under their thick black beards the men appeared to have identical features and Jan presumed they were twins. They were good looking, but in a way that Jan found too aggressively masculine. In fact it seemed to her that they reeked of pure masculinity on some physical level. The woman, on the other hand, was possessed of an almost beatific beauty; the bone structure underlying her flawless white skin appeared to Jan to be as fragile as egg shells. Unfortunately she was deformed by a pronounced hump on her back which protruded clearly through her bulky robes.

Their captors were of an unusual appearance as well, some more so than others. Jan stared again at the man keeping pace beside the wheeled cage. His face was marred with deep furrows and the flesh hung loose on his neck and beneath his chin. His thin hair had streaks of white in it as if he had attempted to dye it in the manner of the Minervan Headwomen.

All of their captors had similar markings on their faces, but this particular man was the worst affected. Jan wondered if it was the result of some kind of ritual scarring and had asked Milo this, but he was still refusing to speak. He just lay silently within the tight confines of the metal net, his expression unreadable. She guessed he was furious with himself at being taken by surprise so easily by this bunch of bedraggled-looking men. But it had all happened so quickly: the metal nets had seemed to come from nowhere. While Jan had been staring in astonishment as the net dropped over Milo and cords attached to it pulled him off-balance, another net was flying through the air towards her. Very soon she was in the same position as Milo; lying helpless on the ground with her arms pinned to her sides. And then the bedraggled men with the strangely scarred faces were surrounding them, laughing and giving cries of triumph. They were armed with spears, pitchforks and axes—all rusty—but had no guns as far as Jan could see. They spoke Americano, but with an odd accent that made understanding them difficult. One word cropped up again and again. Ezekiel .

Jan had heard that word many times since their capture and now realized it was someone’s name. From what she had been able to decipher of their conversation Ezekiel was their leader. And apparently he was going to be very pleased with them when they returned with their five prizes. Or, as one of their captors had put it, “… these five abominations in the eyes of the Lord.” Jan hadn’t liked the sound of that.

They travelled without a stop right through the night. Jan managed to sleep for several hours, in spite of the discomfort. Fortunately they had removed the net from her before putting her in the mobile cage. They had tied her hands behind her, and her feet together, as they had the other prisoners with the exception of Milo. Jan doubted if she could have stood to remain within the cruel confines of the metal net for more than a couple of hours and felt increasingly sorry for Milo, though as usual he gave no sign of being in pain.

On waking up with a terrible thirst Jan had asked the nearest of their captors for some water, but he laughed and gave the side of the cage a whack with the shaft of his spear. “You think you’re thirsty now, unclean one?” he said in his barely penetrable accent. “Just wait until Ezekiel sends you to hell where you belong—then you’ll know real thirst!”

With the morning came glimpses over the tree-tops of the towers of the city, revealing to Jan that they were now much closer. She estimated that the outskirts were probably only about ten miles away. Then, at around mid-morning, the cage and ragged escort arrived at their destination. After passing through a gap in a wall made of metal netting covered with camouflage they entered a small settlement. For the first time since being thrown into the cage Milo struggled into a sitting position and began to display an interest in his surroundings.

It was a dismal place. The buildings, made of fungus-riddled wood, were squat and ugly. The atmosphere was made even more dismal by the camouflaged netting that hung over the whole of the settlement, keeping it in a state of permanent twilight.

They came to a square in the centre of the ramshackle little town and the mobile cage was halted. People were coming out of the buildings and very soon the cage was surrounded by a sizable crowd. Then Jan got a close look at some of the people and gave a gasp of fear and revulsion.

They were living corpses ! Their withered skin hung from their bones in what appeared to be an advanced state of decay; their faces were so disfigured they scarcely resembled human beings! It was impossible that people could look like that and still be alive. They had obviously fallen into the hands of a nest of sorcerers who were using magic to keep these unfortunate creatures alive!

Unconsciously, Jan moved closer to Milo. He laughed cynically. “What’s the matter?”

“Those creatures … Mother God, what are they? Have they been dug out of their graves and reanimated by sorcerers?”

Milo laughed again. “You’re having your first look at an affliction that every human being was prone to once upon a time, provided he or she lived long enough. It’s called ‘old age’. These people must be the remnants of one of the big fundamentalist communities. They considered genetic enhancement to be ‘unnatural’ and against the will of God. They preferred to rot slowly like this over a period of many years. Pretty sight, isn’t it? If it wasn’t for those genegineers you despise so much, the same fate would be in store for you.”

Jan covered her face with her hands. “No, I don’t believe you! The Mother God wouldn’t be so cruel!”

“Maybe She wouldn’t be, but God the Father was, or Nature or the blind forces of chance—depending on what you want to believe rules over the cosmos …”

“ Ezekiel !”

A great shout had risen from the crowd, and then a parting formed among them. Ezekiel had arrived. Ezekiel was like nothing Jan had ever seen before. It was made of metal and consisted of a large, box-like head, about five feet wide, and two huge legs that ended in great clawed feet. As it moved it clanked noisily and Jan saw that it left deep footprints in the ground. “Jesus,” she heard Milo whisper. “I don’t believe it … after all these years. …”

The thing halted beside the cage. It stood some ten feet high, which was the same height as the cage on its wheeled platform. There was a cluster of metal tubes mounted on top of the metal box and a mechanical arm attached to one of its sides. Jan then saw something that resembled a pair of large binoculars, mounted on another mechanical arm, emerge from the front of the box. She shivered as the binoculars scrutinized her, then did the same to the other four prisoners. Then the thing spoke.

“I am Ezekiel, the Hammer of the Lord. I am the instrument who will send you to your rightful place in Hell, for your presence here sorely offends the Lord.” Its voice was loud but flat; without any range or emotion. It made the skin over Jan’s spine tingle unpleasantly.

The thing then took a step backwards. “Open the cage. I will inspect these accursed ones.”

As the crowd drew away to form a wide space around the cage two members of the escort opened the cage door and began to drag out the prisoners. Soon all five were lying on the ground in front of the thing called Ezekiel. It motioned towards Milo with its mechanical arm. “Why is that one wrapped so securely?”