Chapter 18 Chapter 18: the Eighth Day
“I see you don’t appreciate my work very much, Tillyanna.” The same nurse from earlier stood in my cell, arms crossed. “Well, that’s five stitches and a lot of glue, should hold you together until next time. You’re officially my best customer, though I hope we don’t meet again soon. I’d also recommend a bath. You…how do I say it? reek.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“I am not a doctor. I’m a nurse. And I do hope you’ll take my advice.” She rolled her eyes.
“Advice, Doc? The bit about customers or baths?”
With a huff, she stormed past the guard, muttering, “I’m starting to understand why people feel the need to hit you so much.”
The guard followed, leaving me alone again, my third night in this damned city. The late hour meant only four hours until sunrise. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together my broken life.
How do I get a pass out of the city? How do I pay for Ranger protection in the Wastelands? Not Nate and his mob. His face flickered in my mind, the way he looked when my gun was pointed at him, that smug smile. God, I should’ve slit his throat when I first met him. Would’ve saved me so much trouble.
Was it him who ratted me out? No… not him.
The Book. The Eighth Day. How do I get it back? Can they even translate it? And what the hell does that mean for me if they do?
Back when I was a child, living in the church dorms, we all had a copy of The Eighth Day. We were expected to read it daily, every child had painstakingly hand-copied their own, diagrams and all, under the hard gaze of the Sisters. From the First Book of the Nephilim to the Last Acts of Nylah the Warrior-Sister, we knew every word. That book, a collection of songs, stories, and poems from across the world, translated into Russian, spoke of the beginning of the end, of how we would rise again. But this time, we would do it right. This time, we would do it in the name of Nylah and the Holy Mother. For every Sister.
The first book tore through my thoughts like fire, I remember crying with every line I copied.
The Book of the Eighth Day: song text by Hazel O’Connor, Honoured Saint and Sister.
In the beginning was a world
Man said, “Let there be more light
Electric scenes, a maze of beams
Neon brights to light our boring nights.”
On the second day he said, “Let’s have a gas
Hydrogen and power of the past.
Let’s make some germs, we’ll poison the worms
Man will never be surpassed.”
And he said, “Behold what I have done,
I’ve made a better world for everyone.
Nobody laughs, nobody cries,
World without end, forever and ever,
Amen.”
On the third we get green and blue pill pie,
On the fourth we send rockets to the sky,
On the fifth metal beasts and submarines,
On the sixth man prepares his final dream.
In our image, let’s make robots for our slaves,
Imagine all the time that we can save-
Computers, machines, the silicon dream;
Seventh he retired from the scene.
And he said, “Behold what I have done,
I’ve made a better world for everyone.
Nobody laughs, nobody cries,
World without end, forever and ever,
Amen.”
On the eighth day machine just got upset-
A problem man had not foreseen as yet.
No time for flight, a blinding light,
Then nothing but a void, forever night.
He said, “Behold what man has done,
There’s not a world for anyone.
Nobody laughs, nobody cries-
World’s at an end, everyone has died,
Forever amen.”
Lying in bed, the pain rattling through me, I thought of The Sisters’ mission, to prevent the second rise of the Nephilim, to change the world. Words I once believed in. What would they do to me now for my betrayal? For abandoning them… for forsaking my faith?
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I must have dozed off at some point, because now I was being roused,
“My, we are a sleepy one this fine morning. I trust the accommodations were to your liking?”
Him. Charles. My torturer. He grinned through the bars, his teeth glinting. “I was hoping for a little chat, but alas, other errands call.” He licked the iron bars, slow and deliberate. “Still, I thought I’d bring you breakfast personally. Kasha porridge and syrniki, cottage cheese pancakes. From a lovely little family-owned restaurant in Sector 2. Enjoy.”
The scent of warm kasha and spiced syrniki coiled up from the tray, twisting my empty stomach into knots. Memories flashed, childhood mornings at the long table, laughter, friends. But then his voice slithered back into my thoughts. Him. The bastard who’d burned me, stole my book, who’d peeled back my skin.
He’d figured out the language. Now he’d found someone to translate it.
Who the hell still spoke Russian this far from home?
I could barely speak it myself, read and write, sure. A prayer or two, maybe. But fluent? No.
And now, Charles knew.
The race was on, I had to get to Sector 2, and Charles understood that too.
Minutes later, Guy swung by the cell. “Charles says you’re free to go. Thanks for… helping with our inquiries.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a growl. “But if I see you again, I’ll hurt you. Now fuck off.”
The door clanged open, and just like that, I was out.
What to do now, what I really wanted was to drop a Stim or two, maybe an Angel Kiss and a bottle of anything strong. My thoughts circled back to my supplies, buried underground. How in The Mother’s name was I supposed to dig them up? And my damn book, I needed help. I needed Sector 2.
When the daylight stopped burning my eyes, I saw Max waiting for me, loyal as ever.
“Max.” He looked up and grinned. “Was worried about you, yo”
“Yeah, Max, I know. For a while there, I was too.” I grabbed his arm, nearly yanking him forward. “Come on. Let’s get the hell away from this place. We’ll talk while we walk.”
We moved in silence for a while. Max was never one for stillness, but now he was quiet as a shadow.
“Max, how do I get into Sector 2 without getting flagged?”
He grunted. “You don’t. Soon as your tag hits the door port, they know you’re there.”
“What if I steal someone else’s?”
“Not easy. Soon as it’s reported, you’re done for.” Then he perked up. “You got any Chids? Might know a guy who can help.”
Always Chids. I had none, or next to none, and nothing left to sell either. Blessed Mother, I need those supplies.
“Maybe Seamus can front me some.” A flicker of hope.
Max grimaced. “He’ll skin me if he sees me.”
“Not if you’re with me. I’ll go in. You wait outside.”