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The Seventh Realm: Volume One

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode 04: Everyone’s Favorite Monster

Cy tosses and turns in the bed, tormented by a memory of his not-so-distant past. Still just a humble driver for J.T.’s organization, he sets his H&R 732 revolver on the dash, the very pistol he used to save Johnny and Gabby from their assassins. Holding his MP3 player, which is plugged into his aftermarket radio via a 3.5mm AUX cable, he selects his In Flames playlist. As the music blares, he shifts the truck into gear and takes off, pulling an empty trailer. Driving down the winding jungle roads, he enters the nearby town, a necessary route to reach the port on the other side. He looks into his driver’s side mirror.

The beat up white pickup truck seems to be following him, but it doesn’t enter the port with him. He unhooks the empty trailer and attaches to a frame with no container crate. Driving around the port, he pulls into a marked area. He hops out and waves to the Malevolence’s crane operator, Juan, who nods back. The bullet hole from his suicide is evident and bleeding, though this doesn’t seem to both Cy in the least. Juan pulls a container crate from the ships hold and lowers it onto the truck’s bare frame. Cy selects his Soilwork playlist for the return drive to the compound. He knows that he needs to hurry, because J.T.’s lab is expecting the container full of several hundred kilograms of pure Columbian cocaine.

Cy walks around the container, checking to make sure it is secure, before climbing back into the cab and driving off. As he reaches the entrance to the port, he looks around for the old white pickup truck, but sees nothing out of the ordinary. Heading back to the compound, Cy, having always driven solo, makes his usual turn onto a long and narrow road. As he picks up speed, he shifts into a higher gear. The beat up white pickup truck from before turns a corner, nearly rolling over from the speed. As it skids to a halt, at least six men armed with AK-47 rifles jump out. They take up a staggered formation, some standing and some kneeling. Immediately recognizing the danger, he presses hard on the accelerator.

Spotting an upcoming road, he cranks the wheel hard, turning the rig to the left. The container crate catches the edge of a home on the corner; the hijackers suddenly begin firing at him. Rounds ping off of various parts of the truck as a portion of the home’s wall crumbles into the street, a large cloud of off-white dust filling the road behind him.

“That’s right. Fuck you!” He yells at his driver’s side mirror.

He doubts that the men could follow him. Driving swiftly along the road, Cy tries to get to the main highway, if it could even be called that. As he looks left and right to see where the roads lead, he notices something in his mirrors. Focusing, he sees the pickup truck peaking around the corner of his trailer, a few men aiming rifles at him. A shot goes off and the round cracks the mirror that he was looking into.

“Hey! Hurt my fucking truck, you son of a bitch?!” Cy yells.

He enters a section of road, surrounded in thick concrete walls. The song ’20 More Miles’ begins to play as he reaches for the hand brake. Pulling it down hard, the trailer brakes engage and the truck is yanked back. The pickup swerves to the left, clipping the edge of the trailer with their bumper and front fender. Accelerating to meet Cy at the cab, they begin shooting. Cy doesn’t hesitate; he knew exactly what they would do. Releasing the hand brake and pressing hard on the accelerator, he turns the steering wheel hard to the left, slamming into the pickup and crushing it against the concrete wall. The metal screams as it grinds between the trailer and the concrete wall.

Men both leap and fall out of the bed of the truck. Some scream as they are smashed against the wall and the road. One hijacker falls under the wheels of the trailer which causes an amusing bump. Cy can’t help but laugh aloud as he downshifts to gain speed, admiring the wreckage with his lower convex mirror.

“Stupid fuckers thought I was just some truck driver…” He laughs to himself, turning a corner and reaching the main road.

He finishes his trip and returns to the compound without incident. The guards look on in shock. The sides of the trailer are riddled with bullet holes, and the driver’s side has pieces of metal and blood spatter on it as well. Cy parks the truck where he always does, pulling the brake valves, shutting off the engine, and hopping out.

“What the hell happened?” A guard asks, walking up to the truck.

“Oh, well… Some guys got it in their heads that they could shoot my truck and rip off the boss.” A smile spread across Cy’s face. “I corrected them.”

“That’s impressive.” The guard replies. “Who was it? What family?”

“Who cares. Fix my mirror.” He says, handing the guard the keys to the cab and walking past him.

J.T. stands outside, in front of his own office. He motions for Cy to approach him.

“Hey there, boss-man.” Cy says with a wave. “I made it back here with the cargo, but some guys tried to fuck with the shipment, so I killed a few of them and broke their truck. Anyway, just thought you should know!” He chirps.

“Good work, Cy!” J.T. exclaims. “Since you are so good at this, perhaps you’d like to help me with something?”

“Sure.”

J.T. grins sinisterly, the dream taking an abrupt shift from the reality of his past. Cy turns, face-to-face with the rotting corpse of the teenaged boy her killed barely two days ago. The boy opens his mouth, revealing a tongue swarming with maggots.

“Why?!” The boy screams in a sepulchral voice.

“Oh God!” Cy screams, jumping back.

The boy reaches out and clutches his arms, his icy grip chilling his entire body to the bone. Cy turns to J.T., but he is no long there. The door to his office is open, revealing a room full of flames.

“He can’t save you!” The boy screams. “Time to come home!”

The boy pulls him towards the hellish room, laughing maniacally in an inhumanly deep voice. As the boy pushes him into the flames, Cy lunges up in the bed, gasping for breath as he sits in the dark. He brings his hands up to his face, resting it in his palms. He struggles to keep from sobbing. He lifts his head, tilting it back as he takes a deep breath. Suddenly he notices something inside the room with him, shifting near the corner. Startled, he quickly turns. Sitting near the door on the floor, Zakera opens her eyes. They glow in the darkness. Cy shifts, draping his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright?” She asks him. Her soft voice eases his nerves.

“I’m fine, now.” He answers as he takes a few deep breaths. “How long have you been here?”

“For some time.” She replies.

“Couldn’t you sleep?”

“What?” She blinks.

“Is that why you are here? You couldn’t sleep?” He reiterates.

“I came to see you. I heard your cries and I was worried for you.” She answers.

“Thanks.” He sighs.

“What were you dreaming about?” She tilts her head.

“It… I used to be a warrior. Sometimes I have bad dreams about it.”

Though Cy feels somewhat guilty for lying to her, he would rather not tell her the truth; that he was in fact an assassin who tortured and killed people on command, some of whom were very innocent, is not something to be proud of.

“Warriors do many things, but it does not mean that they are bad.” She replies.

“Doesn’t it?”

“You did what you were told, as many warriors. You are not bad; I know this to be true. If you were, you would not have saved me from the Kaladez.”

“Thanks.” He sullenly sighs.

She nods her head in response, glancing around the room before approaching him and avoiding the dark spot on the floor. The Ketlan must have superior night vision; Cy can’t discern the stain in the darkness. Zakera reaches out, grabbing his wrist gently and pulling at him.

“You should not sleep here. It is not your place.” She says.

She leads him by the hand, guiding him through the room and back into his own. Taking him to the edge of his bed, he turns and sits down.

“Perhaps you will be more comfortable in here!” She chirps.

“So where will you sleep?” He asks.

Without saying a word, she sits beside him. He begins to move aside, but she reaches out and rests a hand over his. Her gentle touch is surprisingly comforting to him. She scoots back and lies down, stretching out on the bunk, close to the wall. He lies down beside her, their arms gently touching. Though she turns her head, grinning faintly at him, her heart pounds rapidly in her chest. This situation is extremely taboo for an unclaimed adult female like herself, but she isn’t going to tell him that. He rolls over onto his side, looking at her with a sullen expression. Is he upset, offended, thinking about his nightmare, or just tired?

“Y-you may h-hold me… If it’ll make you feel better!” She says.

She feels herself flush as she speaks, unable to believe the words that have come out of her mouth. To her surprise, he scoots closer and drapes an arm across her belly, hooking it around her side. She quickly rolls over, facing her back to him and scooting back to meet him. His arm grips her gently, his fingers squeezing her side. She feels her heart quicken, but her muscles relax. This is an entirely new experience for her, and she is thankful to have it. Cy rests his nose on the soft fur on her shoulder, closing his eyes. She has a surprisingly sweet scent to her. He has spent many nights alone, suffering in his dreams, only to wake up sweating and afraid.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He whispers.

She reaches a hand down, gently scratching the pale skin of his forearm as it hugs her torso. He pulls a little tighter as her claws rake his flesh. Her lips curl into a visible smile as she closes her eyes. Within moments, they both fall back asleep, and it isn’t a result of the comfortable mattress. Cy soon finds himself back in his dreams. He walks with a brown paper bag toward the interrogation shack. He passes several guards, who nod.

“Hey, Cy!” They chirp.

He continues walking, stopped again by Jonny and Gabby. They look pleased to see him, as they always are.

“What’s up?” Cy asks.

“Not much.” Gabby replies.

“Just about to play some football.” Johnny tucks the black and white sphere under his arm. “Want to join?”

“Sure, but I have some business inside.”

Cy tilts his head to the shack. Johnny and Gabby turn their heads, their smiles quickly fading as they look at the bleak, sheet metal building. Cy passes the siblings, quietly slipping into the shack. Yasmin stands inside beside a man who had somehow slighted J.T. He weeps as she shows him a rusty machete that sits on the table, grinning sinisterly as she twirls it before him.

“Por favor no me mates. Lo siento!” He pleads.

“Hey! Hurry up, I’ve got lunch.” Cy barks, holding up the bag.

“Alright, alright.” She grumbles.

Yasmin pulls her arm back, swinging the blade and cutting into his neck. The dull, rusty blade does not cut cleanly. She swings again and again, her arm growing tired as she finally severs the man’s head from his body.

“It only took nine swings this time!” She smiles, blood streaking her clothes, face and hair.

“I told you to sharpen it.” He murmurs.

“Where’s the fun in that?! Give me my ham and cheese!”

He walks around the table as Yasmin picks up the victim’s head, setting it upright on the table as she takes a seat at the far end. He opens the back and sets out two fresh sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, standing beside her. She takes the wrapped sandwich in her bloody hands, peeling the paper away and taking a bite as she stares into the blank eyes of a severed head.

“Do you think he’s hungry?” She jests.

“You probably should have asked him that before you killed him.”

He looks up to a beam of light that peers in through a crack in the wall. Pink with streaks of cyan flashes by the crack. Breaking from the reality of his recollection, he leaves his sandwich behind and darts for the door. He shoves it open, falling into the clear blue water. He pops up to the surface; J.T.’s entire compound is gone and he is left swimming in a vast ocean, the yellow sanded beach over a kilometer away. As he begins to swim for the shore, he feels a tugging at his pant legs. Looking down into the clear water, he sees the bloated corpses of his victims. The platoon of undead try to drag him under the gentle waves.

As he begins to sink, a familiar pink hand sinks below the waves, reaching out to him. Taking the hand, the water and undead vanish, leaving his sitting on the soft, warm sand of the beach. He opens his eyes, sitting on the ground. Zakera sits beside him; the horrors are gone. The sun is warm on his body, heating his clothes. She smiles at him, gazing with her vibrant eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but suddenly wakes up. Opening his eyelids, he glances at the ceiling, lying flat on his back. He looks over to Zakera, who lies on her side with her body draped partially over his, a leg between his. Her body radiates heat, which must have been the warmth of the sun in his dream.

A few strands of her pink hair drape over her face. He reaches a hand out, brushing the hair from her face and away from her eyes and snout. Her fingers clench as she opens her eyes, turning them up to him. Her lips curl into a little smile.

“Did you have bad dreams again?” She asks.

“No.” He smiles.

“Good. Do not dwell on the road behind you. Only look forward.” She says cheerfully.

She quickly rises from the bed, standing at the edge and running her hands over her arms and belly, pressing down a few upturned patches of fur. Cy sits up on the bed, holding himself up with his elbows.

“Was it good for you?” He jokes.

“What?!” She turns to him, her eyes wide. “Th-that was just to help you sleep!”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to be funny.” He chuckles.

“Oh…” She murmurs.

Reaching a hand across her chest and grabbing an arm, she turns her head away from him, looking to the porthole.

“I knew that…”