“Jesus,” said the Hunter, “that’s rough. But what about the muties themselves? What are they after? Whatta they want?”
“Who fuckin’ knows? Maybe they just wanna take over, you know? Take all our food an’ all our stuff. I mean, some people say that they eat people, sure, but right now? I personally don’ wanna think about that. Know what I mean?”
The Hunter felt a slight shudder; one of his few unreasonable fears was of being eaten by cannibals. Not that he cared if people ate other people, really, that was their business. He just didn’t want it to happen to him. And to think that all those monsters out there were man-eaters? It gave him a shock.
“What about this Emperor freak?” asked the Hunter, deliberately changing the subject. “You met him yet?”
“Emperor?” said the other. “Never heard of him. Who is he?”
“Not so sure about that,” said the Hunter. “I mean, he calls himself Emperor Johnson, king of this, lord of that. What I do know is what he is, and that’s nothin’ more or less than a fuckin’ lunatic. Straight-up batshit sadistic, psychotic crazy.”
CJ gave a pained groan and then an acidic laugh. “Oh, man! That is really fuckin’ good, you know? Maravilloso! I come from one loco motherfucker in charge, right into another one! Is everybody in charge insane? Is that how it works? Dios mio, this is a fucked-up world, amigo!”
The Hunter sat up. “You mean the Governor, right? That who you mean?”
“Yeah, who else?”
“An’ you’re sayin’ he’s crazy?”
“Kind of a relative term, these days, ain’t it?” said CJ. The Hunter could hear him shift position. “But yeah, I think it’s safe to say that the Governor is one loco, power-drunk kinda fucker. Shit, you should hear one’a his speeches, the ones in the last month or two. I mean, he sounds kinda reasonable, he ain’t screamin’ or mumblin’ or nothing, but what he says? Like everything’s just fine an’ there’s nothin’ to worry about and how New America’s better than ever, like, jus’ totally outta touch, you know? I mean, I ain’t no head-shrinker. I can’t say what’s crazy an’ what’s not. But, ask me, this dude is one beer short of a six-pack. An’ that don’t even take into account all the shit people say about him! How he’s a maricon boy-fucker, a drug fiend, how he lives like some kinda king, all walled up in his mansion with all them PF goons all over. Shit, don’t even get me started on those pendejo bastards!
“Who, the Police Force?” said the Hunter. “Why, what’s the trouble with them?”
“Fuckin’ thugs, man,” said CJ angrily. “Like them old-time fuckers, them Nazis, comprende? Grab anybody they want, no reason, and take ‘em off to the cells. An’ you don’ wanna know what goes on there! Rape, torture… an’ nobody ever comes out. Never.”
“And these are the Governor’s men?” asked the Hunter. “His personal goons?”
“More or less,” CJ said. “I mean, they’re supposed to be the police, you know? Like Before, they’re supposed to catch thieves and shit. But now? Fuck, now all they do is make anyone the Governor don’t like just go away. Word has it, they dump the bodies in the big burner down at the algae plant.”
“No shit?”
“No shit, amigo. These are bad men. Only one of ‘em I ever thought was worth a damn was the Deputy Chief, this big dude named Lumler. He was OK. But even he’s gone now. Say he was killed in a fight with Reformists, but I dunno for sure. Anyway, with Lumler gone, means the Chief himself is totally in charge. And, wouldn’t you know it, the Chief is as loco as any of ‘em. Like I said, man—everybody in charge is fuckin’ crazy!”
“What’s wrong with the Chief?”
“Pain freak,” said CJ baldly. “Jus’ like this Emperor pendejo of yours, I guess. Gets off on hurting people, you know? Does all the torture, personal-like, word has it. I never met the dude, but I heard all kindsa stories from guys who did, an’ every last one of ‘em said the same thing: dude is bad fuckin’ news.”
The Hunter sat silent for a while, thinking. This was news to him; the last time he’d met the Governor, the man had seemed as sane as anyone. Prissy and fat and annoying, yes, but nonetheless sane. The same went for the Police Chief, whom he’d met twice before leaving New America. He was maybe a bit intense, sort of nervous and twitchy, but not obviously crazy by any means. So what had happened? Had the stress of events pushed the leaders of NA over the edge? Or had they been loonies all along? It made him wonder. Finally the Hunter shook off these musings when CJ broke the silence.
“How about others?” he asked. “You seen anybody else down here? Anybody normal, I mean.”
“Just the guy,” said the Hunter. “This Emperor freak. But before you showed up, there was an old man and a woman in the next cell. Don’t know what happened to ‘em, but I ain’t heard from ‘em lately, so who knows? Other than that? Nobody.”
“Shit,” CJ said, “I was kinda hopin’ there were more, you know? More Army prisoners, that is.”
“What? Why?”
“Cause of all the guys that went missing. See, just about every time we had a big fight with these freaks, somebody would get wounded, left behind, separated from his unit, and just kinda disappear, you know? We figured the deformos grabbed ‘em, took ‘em prisoner. But I guess not, eh?”
The Hunter said nothing. Likely as not, CJ’s comrades had been butchered and eaten by the monsters. No point in telling the poor man that, of course; he’d put two and two together easily enough. Finally, though, he felt something like pity and spoke up.
“Never know,” he said, trying to sound confident. “Maybe there are others. These mines seem like they go on forever, so…” he trailed off.
“Yeah, mebbe,” said CJ wanly. He seemed about to go on when there came a clamor from outside their cell/cave and then the door was opened. A flickering, dirty sort of light gleamed from without and then, sending a shiver down the Hunter’s spine, came the high-toned cackle of the madman who called himself the Emperor:
“Come out, come out!” he warbled. “You wouldn’t want to miss the party, would you?”
The Hunter looked at CJ, who seemed as puzzled as the Hunter felt.
“Party?” mouthed CJ. “Is this pendejo fuckin’ kidding?”
The Hunter groaned and shook his head. “Don’t think so,” he said. “Now come on, let’s go see what this ding-dong is up to. Tell ya right now, though, I got a pretty good idea we ain’t gonna like it.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
As a human being and a survivor, Justin was disgusted, appalled, and deeply confused, but as a doctor and an epidemiologist, he was absolutely fascinated. What were these creatures and how had they come to be here? What had caused their astonishing physical deformities and how had they remained unknown to medical science? And why were they down here, in some deserted mineshaft in the middle of nowhere? Plus, there were so many of them! Dozens, at least, from what he’d seen, maybe hundreds. Things being what they were, though, he had very little time for speculation.