Broken Windows

Posted: July 28, 2007 in Brawl, Dark, Fiction, Sci-Fi

Chapter 7

“They’re called Officers. They showed up about two months ago.” Kylie suddenly sat, panting from the exertion of the chase. “They’ve been systematically destroying each Brawler village since that time, and there’s no stopping them.”
“Who are the Brawlers? Are you one?”
“No.” She laughed slightly. “I am a Saint.”
“Coulda fooled me…” I muttered under my breath.
“What?”
“Nothing. Listen, I’m really confused. Could you maybe back up a bit and pretend that I know absolutely nothing and perhaps answer the question of ‘where the fuck are we?’”
“You cuss too much, you know that?”
“I have mild Tourettes syndrome. Where the fuck are we?”
She sighed. I extended a hand out to her and pulled her to a standing position.
“This is the largest stronghold of the Saints, called Da Vinci.” For the first time I noticed a large stone wall rising above the bushes that surrounded us.
“I mean this general area. The planet that I’m on right now….”
“Oh. Earth, of course.”
I looked at her strangely. “Is this some sort of crazy gameshow shit? Those fuckers back there weren’t firing blanks, that I know.”
She laughed again. “How much do you know about quantum physics?”
“Er…nothing, actually.”
“Let’s just say that there are different planes of existence, and you’re on one that wound up differently than the Earth you know.”
“OK…doesn’t make much sense to me but whatever. Who are the Brawlers?”
“The Brawlers are a nomadic group that base themselves around bare-knuckled fighting…thus the name. They are generally peaceful, as they only have scheduled fights inside of their own clan. So when the Officers came around, it was like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “What do the Officers have against them?”
“I don’t really know. My best guess is that the Officers like to destroy weak things; perhaps they fancy themselves predators. Any attempt to meet with them through a messenger has been met only with dead messengers. All of them have been set on fire and left right outside the city walls.”
“Nice touch.”
“Yeah.” Kylie paused and looked at our surroundings before her scarlet eyes rested upon mine again. I took this opportunity to quickly check her out. She was thin, thinner than most of the city girls that roamed the streets after midnight, giggling and smoking cigarettes as they walked through alleyways and beneath streetlights. Her hair was a sort of flaxen dirty blond, loosely tied back with a small black band, strands of it framing her face with a sort of childlike carelessness. Her face was anything but childlike, almost frost-bitten with strife and sharply defined by high cheekbones. She was still gazing into my eyes as I stared at her, nothing uncomfortable between us that might cause either of us to look away.
Nothing uncomfortable, that is, until I looked at her crimson eyes.
There was no spark.
Nothing.
Just as though they were empty, fake eyes painted on.
I remember reading something saying that the eyes are the windows to the soul.
These windows were shattered…
And nothing was behind them.

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Comments
  1. goodnightcat says:

    I really like your concepts, Luke. Great tone you’ve got going as well. Keep it up.

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