WAIL OF AGES
By Sean and Craig Davis


“M-Must it always begin like this?" My tongue stumbled still clumsy from the Transition. Seven months imprisoned in this hole, yet only a taste of the indignities to come.
I resented each day spent peeking through the bars of my padded prison, forced to endure my jailor's taunts. Each night under a nightmare-inducing chandelier, I was jolted awake by the fiendish shadow puppets crawling the walls.
My servant Joseph reached through the bars to comfort me, and then directed his attention to my cell. “The trappings of immortality, Master.”
Joseph’s coordination fared better than mine, and he prodded with small and nimble fingers at the latch of my cell door. The wooden door swung down, releasing me to crawl from my prison's cramped confines.
With Joseph gesturing for me to follow, I surveyed my prison yard. My withering gaze fell upon the table of torture. Harnessed inside, I was subjected to the my captor's whims regularly inside a circular frame stocked with every colorful instrument of torment imaginable. Meanwhile, my ears were besieged by a mind-numbing melody while each movement and every whimpering sound were recorded for posterity.
Joseph’s chubby silhouette waddled forward. “The council convenes shortly, Master. We had to make a few pressing decisions in your absence.”
I nodded. “I trust your judgment.” In our previous lives Joseph had proven his loyalty. As my Minister of Propaganda, he’d even followed me in suicide with a gunshot to the head—after poisoning his wife and six children. Although Joseph was his preferred name, he'd gone by many. Names are only passing medleys within the tragic beauty of life's masquerade—when you are immortal.
Joseph led me behind a rocking warhorse to reveal an open ventilation grate. I wiggled through the opening and crept along a small duct until it opened into the underground basement. Six dark figures sat in a circle, my eternal cadre. Fully grown into their new lives, the members of the Council bowed their heads in homage—despite my diminished state.
Resting on a sable silk cloth, the Book of Shadows whispered dark promises. Within its dull-red bindings of flesh, the promise of life everlasting was fulfilled—for a price.
A feral pair of eyes waited. The owner, once a ravager of nations and leader of the infamous Mongol horde, now served as my second-in-command. “Shadows protect you, Master.”
I nodded. “Were you discreet in your entrance?”
“Yes, Master. Joseph picked the lock on the basement door easily and let us in.”
“Excellent. I appreciate your restraint.” My eyes lingered on the door behind him. I wanted to walk out with my brothers and disappear into the night, but it was no use. My captors would find me.
My Second proceeded to recount current events affecting the council. “Master, the newly appointed British Premier pushes ratifications through to strengthen the scope and powers of the United Nations.”
“That will not do. The United Nations is already difficult to control.” Out of habit, I rubbed my soft upper lip, missing my moustache. Perhaps someday I would regrow it. “Kidnap the Premier’s daughter and hold her for a day. The Premier is a perceptive man; he will understand. If not…” I thumped my chest with a crushing fist. “What else?”
“Thirteen retired warheads from the splintered Soviet Union have been successfully cached, Master.”
I considered carefully. “Have them stationed in our Malaysian base. If we wish to start a conflict in the future, they will prove invaluable to our cause.”
The death of a few hundred thousand lives would spark retaliation from even the neutered United States. Their response would be easy to misdirect. Innocents would die, but this is the way of things. Just like in the camps of Auschwitz and Sobibor, I'd step on the charred ladder of bones to further my ascension. Such is the price of greatness.
Fatigue pulled at me and I yawned. This vessel tired so easily. I found myself yearning for a nap.
My Second continued. “A week ago the Masonites eliminated two of our contacts in Western Europe.”
I ran my fingers through the wispy threads of hair on my head. “That thorn in my side has grown tiresome. Only one hand may hold the lash on this world--and it is MINE.”
I addressed the newest addition to the council, a cutthroat I’d found ripping his way through London a century ago, leaving a trail of dead whores in his wake. “I need you to pry the name of their leader from one of their agents. Feel free to extract a few organs in the process.”
“With pleasure, Master.”
I searched the faces of the other members of the Council. “My brothers, until I return to full strength, I bid you follow the Codex of policies—“
The creak of footsteps above!
Joseph whispered, “Master, you must return!” I scrambled back through the tunnel and exited the grate. I heard the doorknob rattling; Joseph had jammed the lock, but it wouldn’t hold for long.
I dashed out of the tunnel and tripped over a minefield of square blocks. Damn my jailor’s penchant for useless bric-a-brac. Swiftly, I crawled back into my prison while Joseph shut the door, and then returned to his own holding pen.
I feigned sleep but anger seethed inside me. I'd manipulated nations, decimated entire races, and even bettered the Reaper himself. Yet, I was forced to yield to the gloating face that filled my vision overhead.
A huge hand with fingers tipped in blood-red reached down and effortlessly plucked me from my cage. The bane of my short reincarnated life smiled with a cavernous mouth that could swallow me in two bites.
But my heart held no fear--only impotent rage.
Your supremacy over me will be short lived! Once again, you and this entire world will be “MINE!” Did I say that out loud?
A voice from above shrieked in surprise. “Your first word!”
The blunder was covered up easily with burbling coos and placating giggles. I’d learned to hide my hatred well, but oh how I loathe you, my nemesis--Mommy.
I squirmed while the gigantic figure held me aloft and slathered me with drooling kisses. The impudence of the wench! I released the frustrations of the last seven months in a single drawn-out squall and shook my little fists in fury.
Mommy pulled me forward to her chest. “Poor widdle thing.” I madly flailed my arms against the indignity, but it was pointless. With the price of immortality weighing on my tiny shoulders, I swallowed my pride—and suckled at her breast.

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