Last Life

“COLONEL, the prisoner has been delivered as you ordered!”

I hear the booming bass of my escort officer from the prison warden’s lair on the other side of a wide steel door.

This prison is not your typical “supermax,” no — this is the Pit. One of the most accursed locations on our planet. No one ever gets out of the Pit. In fact, when inmates finish out their life sentences, this place even has its own crematorium to dispose of their bodies.

“Send him in,” I hear a curt order through a narrow gap in the door.

The second escort officer, who is keeping watch over me in the reception room also hears the warden and shoves me roughly toward the door.

“Go on!”

Clanking my chains and limping, I hobble over to meet the man who presides over this place. The pain in my whole body makes it hard to concentrate. Essentially, I am already done for. I don’t have much time left, and I’m sure I already stink of death. Both literally and figuratively. My burns and slash wounds are starting to fester. The sharp pain I feel in my broken ribs with every breath keeps breaking my focus. But I’m holding on.

The only thing keeping the spark of life flickering in my physical body is the energy reservoir maintaining power in my energy system.

I only manage to take three steps into the office. A pair of shovel-like hands come down simultaneously on my shoulders. To my right and left, the escort officers freeze like stone slabs. God damned mutants...

I take a quick look around the room. My eyesight is getting worse and worse every day. True vision is my saving grace. It fills in the gaps. A broad table made of reddish wood. A plush carpet in the middle of the office, which I am not allowed to set foot on. Expensive furniture, an air conditioner, a big sofa by the window. A bottle of fancy booze twinkling in a distant cupboard. The Pit’s warden has a pretty sweet setup.

And there he is now. Sitting back imposingly in a leather armchair, he lazily flips through some papers. I see a familiar dirty green corner on the folder. He must be reading my file.

The colonel looks to be fifty or so. Head like a cue ball. Great jowls on a wide bulldog face. Heavyset. Narrow shoulders.

His hairy puffy fingers flick unhurriedly through the pages of my file. I see unfeigned curiosity in his narrow-set little eyes. Alongside malice and fiendish delight. Oh how his lips curl. And then he licks them. Just like a big, huge toad about to swallow a little fly.

“Well, well, well,” he mutters vilely, lurching cartoonishly forward. “Look what the cat dragged in!”

Seeing my lack of reaction, he gives a nasty little smile, sitting back in his armchair. It crunches woefully.

“Just think!” he keeps up the torment. “Dodger himself! Yes, yes, I’ve heard all about you.”

The warden chuckles and shoots me a conspiratorial wink:

“When your file landed on my desk, I couldn’t believe my luck. I thought it was a joke... But no — it was true. You’re honestly quite the infamous character. I just never expected you to pay me a visit. Although, you know something? I’ve had all kinds here. I’m sure you’re going to like the other inmates.”

The colonel clears his throat loudly and opens my file to page one:

“So then. Full name: Jack Smith. Heh... Original. Age: thirty-two. Orphan. I wonder how much of this is true.”

I say nothing. The muzzle conceals my predatory smile. Go on, you ugly bastard. Satisfy your curiosity. Try asking me questions. If the people who composed my file ever find out, the Pit will be getting a new warden. I guarantee it.

The colonel falls silent. Winces. Must have realized he said too much. The glare he shoots at my escort officers. They of course are real dullards, but they must have realized that the “Dodger” that had fallen into their laps was far from common fare. If they told the right people about their boss’ prying, they might even earn themselves a little bonus.

Anyway, back to my biography. Everything in the file is accurate. I am an orphan. I don’t know a thing about my father. My mom had me, then died of childbirth fever. The old gypsy that served as her midwife took me in as a newborn. And she was the one who raised me. But I also had all kinds of mentors growing up. People of every stripe stuck a finger in the pie of my childhood in the traveling circus the old woman took to every corner of the globe.

“You have a sister...” the colonel finally gets back to reading.

“Had...” I rasp.

“What?” he glances at me in surprise. His eyes glimmer with danger. The little kinglet isn’t used to being interrupted.

I feel the escort officers’ steely fingers squeeze my shoulders. Damned mutants. They’re just so strong!

“I had a sister,” I repeat firmly, gritting my teeth in pain.

For a brief moment, Thais’ face appears before my eyes. Her big sea-blue eyes. Dimpled cheeks. Unruly red bangs. Girlish freckles on a button nose. I failed to protect you, little sister. I’m so sorry...

“Let’s see,” the warden says, quickly flicking through my file. “Aha, there it is. Thais Smith. Twenty years of age. Died of a drug overdose. So, an addict...”

A wave of energy ripples over my body. My muscles tense up like they always do before an attack. These guards really earn their bread — they sense the threat straight away. A couple shoves and I’m on my knees, held down by the degenerate’s meaty paws. Genetic backwash. Half-conscious brutes!

The colonel pretends not to notice and continues casually leafing through the pages. And as if in passing, he tells me:

“That little stunt has already earned you a month in solitary. Moving on... So then, what else is in our new arrival’s record? Illegal entry of a dwelling, abuse, causing bodily harm with intent, murder... Pretty much the full set... And what’d you get caught for after all that? Now, am I mistaken, or are fellows like yourself typically quite hard to catch?”

The colonel clicks his tongue dramatically and says with mockery:

“What? You meet your match? Think you were the strongest and smartest bloke around? Figured the son of a lord would have weaklings for bodyguards?”

The Pit’s warden snorts and adds:

“Well, now you’re here. Hehe... To my unspeakable delight. So, get used to it. This is your home now. As I’m sure you’ve heard, no one gets out of this place.”

Suddenly, the warden’s mood shifts. His inane, mocking tone goes up in smoke. If voices could carry poison, I’d have died writhing on the floor then and there.

“Here’s how it’s gonna go, wretch! Listen up. Around here, you’re nobody. You no longer have a name, much less a past or a future. You’re only a number. From now on, your life belongs to me. And that’s final! I’m done with him. Get this piece of shit out of my sight!”

“Where should we take him, colonel?” the escort officer on the right booms out dispassionately.

“The Bottom,” the boss throws out shortly and adds: “One month.”

* * *

Now I see why they call it the Pit. The prison is underground. Like a pocket of concrete seven-stories deep. And I am at its very bottom. In a narrow, dark, cold cell. At least they took off my chains and muzzle.

The lack of light takes a lot of getting used to. I could switch to night vision but decide not to waste the energy. I am going to need energy.

When my eyes more or less adapt, I take a look around my new digs. In the far-left corner, there is a hole in the floor. Based on the telltale foul odor, it is supposed to be my toilet.

Above that hole, approximately four feet up, I see a crack in the stone wall with water dripping out of it. I run my fingers over the damp wall and raise them to my nose. Smells alright. At least I won’t be dying of thirst.

In the left corner is a stinking grotesque rotted wooden furnishing –my cot. It looks crude, but I’m thankful to have it. I appreciate it. I won’t have to sleep on the stone floor.

Damp walls, a sweetish mildew scent, a chill — the toadlike colonel can’t have been expecting to see me alive in a month. The warden was simply beaming with delight. And no wonder — the man who murdered the son of one of the most influential old-world lords had just landed in his Pit. He was probably hoping for a handsome reward from the head of house Darem.

As an aside, everything he read off about me was the pure truth. I am a cold-blooded killer. I broke into the Darem family abode and slaughtered their whole guard team. After that, I found the ancient clan’s heir, broke all his bones, castrated him, and took his life. And I don’t regret it one bit. If I got another chance, I’d gladly do it again.

But when it came time to leave, my luck ran out. The lord’s personal bodyguards came on the scene. They reacted quickly, but I also got slightly carried away killing his little son. To top it all off, it was the first time I met a gifted man in battle. Like me. I beat him, but I wasn’t able to escape. The beating I sustained was just too severe.

That leaves but one question. Why am I still alive? To me though, the answer is obvious. Lord Darem wants his son’s murderer to truly suffer before dying.

And the toadlike colonel was right about everything except one part — my Thais was no drug addict.

I breathe a heavy sigh. Thais was not my blood sister. She was an orphan like me. But unlike me, she was lucky enough to have met her parents. However, fate ordained to send her father off to war, where he lost his head fighting for the interests of some aristocrat. Her mother meanwhile, an acrobat, lost hold of a rope while performing a trick and fell to her death.

As long as I can remember, Thais was always by my side. She was always my little sister. The only time we were apart for long was the two years I served in Lord Carter’s legion. He had schemed his way into a little war with a neighbor over disputed territory.

It was during that conflict that my particular skills were truly appreciated for the first time and, after the war, I started doing “little jobs” for Lord Carter, then other aristocrats. And any one of those missions could have ended in my death. That was when, courtesy of the late Lord Carter, I got stuck with the nickname “Dodger.” My specialty was tricky situations where many had failed before. I had a knack for clean, quality work that left no trace. And for that, my services commanded a hefty fee.

My business took off quickly. It wasn’t particularly hard to get custody of Thais and, ever since, all documents showed her as my little sister.

It all happened while I was out on a job. My sister met Darem the Younger at a friend’s party, and he took her from there to his estate where he spent a whole week violating her. When he tired of that, he passed her off to his guards...

I feel hot tears streaming down my cold cheeks. For the first time in a long time.

My little sister couldn’t bear to wait for me any longer... She took matters into her own hands... Rest in peace, pure soul...

I think back on the way that little creep squealed before he died. But sadly, it brings me no relief. Because Thais is gone.

And now I am alone in this world...

* * *

I am freezing on the hard cot in the fetal position. Trying to stay away from the wall. Otherwise, the concrete will drain all remaining warmth from my body.

My right side aches unbearably, but my internal organs are unharmed. The guards really know how to beat a person up here, but I’m a pretty tough cookie. I’ve been in all kinds of scrapes. Dodger is a rare commodity. And most importantly — very tough...

“Don’t worry, you brutes, we’ll lock horns again,” I rasp into the silence. “And we’ll see who gets the better of who next time...”

I feel long-awaited sleep gradually coming over me. I dream of the sea. Thais and I are running toward a beach. I come back out of the water and make a silly pose while Thais takes a picture.

The morning sea has yet to warm up. I have to wrap myself in a towel and lie down in the sun. And then the long-awaited warmth. I stop shivering. I toss off the towel, standing with my back in the rays of the sun. I spend a few minutes like that until I start to feel hot. Nice!

It isn’t long before I’m overheating. Time to go hide in the shade. After several seconds, I realize the umbrella isn’t helping. My body is soaked in sweat. Odd. I look around and see people lying in the sun like nothing is wrong. Looks like I’m the only one experiencing anything strange.

My pulse starts speeding up. My heart begins to dart around in my chest like a caged bird. What’s going on? I close my eyes for an instant and get more comfortable. My red-hot back presses into something cold and damp. Phew! That’s nice! The cold is my saving grace, first cascading over my back. Then onto my shoulders, and down to my waist.

Wait!

I open my eyes sharply. The dream gets yanked away. I again find myself in a dark cell at the bottom of the accursed Pit. The heat is unbearable... Burning even. Whoever would have thought cool cement walls could feel so nice? After all, the colonel must have been expecting a different outcome.

What the hell is going on? Is the prison on fire? No. No way. The wretched world around me hasn’t changed one iota. I have to look within. I’m burning up. My prison clothes are soaked with sweat. My heartbeat is going fast. My body is all shivering. It’s like every muscle is contracting at an accelerated rate. And now my bones ache. An unbearable pain... I try to shout, but all I can squeeze out of my throat are pitiful rasps. My body starts contorting feverishly until my joints crack.

With anguish, my brain starts feverishly analyzing the situation. Anyone else would have fully surrendered to the pain by now. But I am no regular man.

The first thing that comes to mind, and probably most accurate, is that I have been poisoned. How? It can’t have been food or water. I haven’t eaten or drank anything since I was at the captain’s house.

I haven’t taken any medicine either. No one gave me any injections. That leaves the cell...

The last thing I notice while drifting out of consciousness is a strong smell of mildew... That’s it! Mildew! The dimly familiar sweetish scent. Only one poison can cause these symptoms. Swamp Queen’s Kiss...

Damn you, old Darem! So, you found me a worthy of torture after all! Sadly, without an antidote, I won’t be getting out of this scrape... Even if I use all my stored-up energy, I stand no chance. Swamp Queen’s Kiss takes a very long time to kill. Torturous pain is all but guaranteed. And before I can think another thought, darkness swallows me up completely.

Oddly, though I’m seemingly unconscious and in the dark, it feels like I’m awake. How is that possible? It doesn’t matter. At least that the pain is gone.

“Hey there,” a wry male voice in the darkness makes me shudder. Or feel like it. There’s no way to shudder without a body.

“Who’s there?”

The voice chuckles.

“You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Do we know each other?” I ask the darkness.

“You might say that,” the voice snorts.

“Am I dead?”

“Nearly,” the voice responds. “You’re holding on by a thread. And yes, abandon all hope now. Your death is a certainty. And that’s not some figure of speech like how people say we all die one day. That’s not true for you anymore. Just so you know, your death will be long and tortured.”

“Swamp Queen’s Kiss...” I whisper with lips alone.

But the mystery voice hears me.

“You know it?” he chuckles. “Smart boy. The prison warden personally made sure the walls were fully coated.”

“He’s trying to ingratiate himself with Darem,” I squeeze out angrily.

“You always do this,” the voice snorts again. “You start taking on opponents an order of magnitude stronger and more powerful than you. And as a result, you always die young. At the dawning of your powers.”

I tense up.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Rebirth, reincarnation. Ever heard of it?”

“I have. But I figured it was made up. Are you Death?”

“Well,” the voice drawls. “If that makes it easier for you to conceptualize me, sure. But the reason I’m talking to you is that I’ve been watching all your lives for a very long time. It’s my job.”

“I understand,” I come thoughtfully.

“You don’t understand a thing,” the voice chuckles. “You don’t even have a near appreciation of what’s happening. And that’s fine. Because this is outside your purview. Your concern is to be born and die. Mine is to observe you and others like you. But I must say — you are my favorite. There’s never a dull day with you. You don’t simply live lives, you careen through kaleidoscopes of events. The other one spends all his lives sewing pants in some boring workshop. Then gets old and dies of a stroke or heart attack. There’s nothing to even talk about with him. But you’re a different story! Too bad this is your second to last life this Cycle.”

“What does that mean?”

“Here’s about the size of it,” the voice responds. “Everything has a beginning and an end.”

“Any exceptions?” I keep interrogating. For some reason, it feels very important to know that I have many more lives ahead of me. Even though this is the first time I’m hearing of any of this. Another thing I realize is that I am asking stupid questions. As if someone is telling me what to ask and how.

“Not that I know of,” the voice responds. “But don’t be alarmed. I have good news for you. I hope you’ll appreciate it.”

Suppressing my desire to ask another stupid question, I keep quiet.

“There!” the voice suddenly pipes up. “That’s exactly what I like about you! Even now you’re trying to resist and swim against the current. Which is why I have decided to give you three gifts.”

Having clearly heard my thoughts, the voice says from the darkness:

“You’re right to consider mousetraps and their ‘free’ cheese, but this is different. I have decided to reward you for keeping me entertained with your adventures. Particularly in your last two lives. You really got up to some mischief! A real treat! Just what I like to watch. Too bad you can’t remember anything from your past lives. Or maybe that’s a good thing...”

After saying that, the mysterious voice starts laughing. I meanwhile am trying feverishly to remember what exactly is happening, who this entity is and, most importantly, what it wants from me. I’m probably just hallucinating. But then, I finally think up a very good question... Only to find I lose my breath and the words get stuck in my throat...

“Oh!” the voice comes. “We have to hurry. You’re starting to regain your senses. Can you tell? You’re thinking up intelligent questions. Before you were just taking everything as a given. So then. The three gifts. One. I will personally select a new body for you to inhabit, and also make sure it will be an interesting world for the both of us. Hehe, I promise I’ll try to find a decent option. I can’t promise a newborn, but the body will already be developed and not too old — I’ll search for the best fit. Gift two. I will let you keep your memories of this life, and most importantly — you can keep your energy reservoir. Still, though, you will have to improve it again in your next life. That way you’ll stay aware of the true value of your gift. And well, gift number three... That one you’ll receive right away. Try to make good use of it. Goodbye, this is the last time you’ll see me. And another thing... A piece of advice for the road. Try to make your last life interesting and action-packed! Haha! I’ll be watching you.”

I want to scream, but nothing comes out. I can’t ask my big question. Oh Thais...

My consciousness comes back in fits and starts. Emerging suddenly from oblivion for a brief moment, then sinking back into darkness. Every second of lucidity is accompanied by sharp pain in my entire body. But my brain, like an electric fuse, flips off the overloaded chain of nerve endings, keeping my mind intact.

“Damn you!” I rasp out, finally coming to my senses.

I lay down on the floor as if climbing into a coffin. I try to take back control over my body. So far, it isn’t going well. The concrete robs me of practically all my warmth.

With immense force of will, I turn onto my side. The pain immediately sears. Clenching my teeth hard, I keep whimpering like a beaten mongrel. I feel like a hunk of meat being sliced into chunks before being fed into a giant meat grinder.

What was that? Who was just talking to me so nicely? The poison doesn’t cause such hallucinations, does it?

Poison! That’s right! Swamp Queen’s Kiss! Darem! Damn that old man! What a shame I’ll never be able to settle our score, creep!

The next instant, I hear a few voices on the other side of the door before the lock clanks nervously. When I see who is standing outside my cell, I give a sidelong smirk. So, here is my third gift.

I get moving and prop myself up on an elbow.

“You’re a tough little rat!” the toadlike prison warden hisses out. He wants to say more, but the tall grey-haired man standing next to him raises a hand and the colonel shuts his mouth.

I recognize the old man straight away. Lord Darem in the flesh. He had come to personally see to it that the man who murdered his son was suffering. Unlike his burly bodyguards and the colonel, he is not wearing a respirator. And no wonder. His body is probably overflowing with all kinds of antidotes and stimulants. The wealthy can afford a lot of things.

I flip onto my stomach and thrust forward a knee. The head of house Darem takes that as a sign of submission. Oh the triumphant glint in his eyes. Honestly though, his moment of celebration doesn’t last long. In its place comes disgust and disenchantment. I had probably caused him quite a lot of turmoil over the last few months. He must have been hoping to see in me a worthy opponent who would die with a smile on his face. The reality is a letdown. Before him is an unfortunate half-living mentally broken man.

Just what I want him to think.

Without a word, Lord Darem twinges his lip in disgust and turns to leave.

There it is! My chance! All the energy I’d saved up so diligently in my reservoir comes surging out of my body. My muscles swell with strength. My mind becomes clear. I am like a tensed spring.

Go! One step, another. Right hand punch. I feel the crunch of the nearest bodyguard’s neck bones. Punch. The second one’s head snaps back sharply. I’m already halfway out of the cell. The mutant prison guards are far away. They won’t be able to stop me.

I feel a sharp jolt in my back followed almost immediately by the trenchant sound of a gunshot. So there’s another guard here. He is standing behind the door. Which is why I didn’t see him. In better times, I would not have missed him. But not today.

One more jolt. Another bullet. Seems to go straight through my body. Oh well. I’m already a dead man walking. The two bullets only spurn me on. With a swift blow, I crush the warden’s windpipe. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s already dead.

But Lord Darem is aware. Thanks to his fancy stimulants, he even manages to react. He tries to dodge. A smile blossoms on my face, probably looking more like the snarl of an otherworldly monster. No, old man. The stupidest decision you ever made was coming here to see me. Gaze upon Dodger’s smile before your death! Few have had that honor!

The old man’s neck twists with ease. I was after all used to dealing with trained troops. But I’d seen all kinds.

Laying on the concrete floor embracing the dead body of the head of house Darem like an old friend, I put on a blissful smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the guard’s pistol barrel twitching, but I can’t feel the bullets anymore. Under my hand, quivering plaintively, my enemy’s heart falls silent. The perfect gift! Thank you, whoever you are! I hope you enjoyed my final show!

And an instant later, the lights go all the way out, and I am again plunged into darkness.