The Birth of a Rebellion Read online

  “And here we are,” she said, “the next guardian.”

  “The man-eating Martians.” Patrick paused before stepping forward. “I have to ask, how did they get the name if you’ve only just now come to Earth?”

  “There were creatures on Mars, they look near identical to you and called themselves Man. Some of the Martians fed on those creatures, hunting them down and bringing them home just as you would a deer. That is why they’re called man-eating, it has nothing to do with your species of human. Perhaps after a few bites, they’ll realize you don’t taste as good and let you go?” She forced a half smile at Patrick.

  “Few bite marks sounds slightly less terrifying.”

  “Not to crush your hopes, but the men on Mars, they were eerily similar to you. They even had the same language. It’s actually where we first learned to speak like you. I had a close friend there, a female who was to be brought back to Pluto as a prisoner. She taught me all about the men who lived there and their cultures. With what I’ve learned from men on Earth, somehow you seem to be the same.”

  “So, I’ve survived fighting two giant snakes only to be eaten alive by some Martians?”

  “Oh, come on. Have some hope! We absolutely destroyed two GIANT snakes; we can beat these guys too. I’ll sing them a goodnight lullaby.”

  Flupotia winked at Patrick as she made her way into the darkness. Both had their weapons out and at the ready. It truly was dead silent and near pitch-black inside. Both of them walked cautiously, not daring to make a noise. Patrick prayed to himself that the Martians were sleeping or simply didn’t exist. Sneaking through unnoticed was their absolute best-case scenario.

  However, as his eyes adjusted, he noticed signs of life all around him. There were many large boxes propped up against the walls, small campfires scattered throughout, and even tiny huts squeezed together. It took several minutes to creep across the cave, but finally, they came upon a door that appeared to be the exit. Patrick reached out to the door. No sooner had he touched the handle when a fire raced across the ground lighting up the cave.

  The ceiling appeared to crash down around them with what must have been hundreds of Martians. As they stood up, they focused their attention on Patrick.

  They were a barbaric bunch, scrawny and covered in rags, but with an undeniable hunger in their eyes. Their burnt orange skin was caked with dirt, and many were licking their cracked and bloody lips. Patrick felt an overwhelming sense of dread, just a few more seconds and we would have been clear of this place. Instead, Patrick was now faced with a small army ready to dismember him.

  ◆◆◆

  V: Tricking A King

  “There is a man! Do not let him escape! Seal the door and grab him!” The Martian, who was clearly in charge, hollered above the thundering sounds of the Martian stampede.

  Patrick got a quick look at this Martian. He was definitely better off than most of the Martians in the cave around him. He wore a crown of bones that sat crooked on his head, a few loose strands of wispy white hair falling from it. His stomach hung out over his belt as his shirt strained to contain it.

  “I don’t care about the alien, just keep hold of him and do not let him go!”

  “Let go of me!” Patrick hollered as he felt arms grabbing onto him.

  “Silence!” The Martians all paused in their movements. “He has something he wishes to say. Go ahead, little man?” The King bowed to Patrick and spread his arms wide.

  “Uh, well...” Patrick stumbled on his words, not really expecting this moment to speak, “I’m here to help you all, please let me go?”

  Laughter spread across the sea of Martians around him, the sound echoing off the cave walls as if taunting Patrick even further.

  “Sense of humor on this one. I always thought the funny ones tasted better.” The Martian in charge licked his lips, which Patrick noted were just as chapped and bloody as the rest of his subjects.

  He couldn’t quite figure out why this was the Martian in charge. He was far fatter than the rest and without a doubt the ugliest. He carried himself with a demeanor of disregard. As if sensing Patrick's disbelief, the King began speaking again.

  “Where are my manners? I’ve forgotten to introduce myself!” The Martian slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead as if playing out a comedic scene in a play. “My name is King Hawfleburg the Twelfth. And it is so nice to eat you. I mean meet you!” The King laughed once again, dozens of his minions joining in enthusiastically.

  Patrick scoffed, despite the terror he felt. “The feeling is not mutual.”

  “Oh yes, you will taste absolutely delicious!” The King made a beeline through the crowd towards Patrick.

  “Flupotia, do the trance!” Patrick caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. She was cornered, eyes darting around clearly overwhelmed.

  “There is too many of them! There’s no way I’m going to be able to take them all out!”

  “Do it anyway!”

  Patrick knew it was a shot in the dark, Flupotia wouldn’t be able to take out more than a few of them. And after she was done it was likely she wouldn’t have enough energy to get up and help Patrick fight off the rest. But they both knew they were left with no other choice.

  Patrick watched in horror as the King closed the gap between them, a deep hunger in his eyes. Then Flupotia’s song cut through the ugly scene playing out before him. The song was much deeper than the first but was equally as beautiful. This time, Patrick was able to enjoy the song for what it was without feeling himself pulled in quite like the first time. The King’s face transformed from one of power into one of terror. In the cave around them, Martians began falling to the ground.

  Luck was yet again on Patrick's side as two of the Martians holding him fell with the others. The third holding onto Patrick panicked for just a second, but it was enough for Patrick to turn the tides. With one quick movement, Patrick whipped out his sword and swung it down leaving a deep gash in the Martians shoulder, ensuring he wasn’t getting back up. Patrick wasted no time pulling out his gun and shooting off seven rapid shots before it started sputtering. Patrick shook the gun in frustration, with no knowledge of the technology there was no hope of fixing it.

  When it wouldn’t stop sputtering, Patrick threw it at a charging Martian. The Martian fell to the ground and Patrick jumped on top of him, his sword making contact with the Martians chest first and then the ground beneath him. Five more Martians charged at Patrick who stood at the center of them all, swinging the sword this way and that as quickly as he could. This was the first moment in Patrick’s life he actually wanted to thank his Mother for forcing him to take fencing lessons.

  Even with his fencing skills at hand, Patrick was only able to last a few more moments. Two more Martians fell to the floor in puddles of their own blood before Patrick was tackled from behind and slammed into the ground. Patrick squirmed beneath the Martian, trying to catch his breath and escape simultaneously. They had made a small dent, taking roughly a third of the Martians out. But now Patrick was alone, as he looked over and saw Flupotia passed out along with over a dozen of the Martians.

  “What kind of sorcery is this?!” The King bellowed. “You dare try and kill my men and me with magic?”

  Patrick tried to muster up all his courage and bellow back at the King, “I am not only a funny one… I am also… a wise one! Much older and wiser than I appear to be!” Well, Patrick thought, at least I tried.

  Patrick was dismissed with a wave of the Kings hand. “Funny, wise, it matters not what you are. Only that you are a man and will taste incredible either way. It’s been too long since I’ve tasted flesh! And now, there’s just fewer to share you with.” The King smiled at Patrick through crooked teeth.

  As the King turned away, he summoned for more of his Martians to come forward and tie Patrick down. With bound hands and feet, Patrick was dragged up a small mound and dropped next to a large chair, which Patrick correctly assumed was the King's throne. The King followed b
ehind and sat down next to Patrick. At this moment, Patrick had a stroke of brilliance – a trick that would allow him to get out of this situation alive, or at least help him towards that. It was a risky plan, but with nothing else to lose, he set the wheels in motion.

  “I know you don’t necessarily want to listen to me, but I have a plan I know you’re going to love!”

  “A King does not play games with his food.”

  “Just humor me a moment. Take a look at me, I’m kind of scrawny wouldn’t you agree?”

  “You’re meaty enough for me.” The King smiled again and Patrick recoiled at the smell of his breath.

  “Exactly!” Patrick jumped on the Kings words, this plan might just work. “I’m meaty enough for you. But think about it, how are you going to split me up amongst everyone here? That won’t really satisfy anyone, will it?”

  “As King, I’m entitled to at least half of you. More if I’m not satisfied.”

  “Of course, that’s your right as King!” Patrick fed into his ego. “But think about it this way. You don’t want a revolt on your hands, do you? Surely the other Martians will be angry watching you eat me by yourself? They’ll wait until your full, happy and sleepy. It’s then that they’ll unleash their anger and overthrow you!”

  “They wouldn’t dare!” The King almost jumped from his seat, several Martians stopped what they were doing to give him quizzical looks.

  “Look at them, in their eyes, you can see they hunger the same as you. You know it isn’t wise to eat me alone.”

  “Hmm,” the King pondered for a moment, “my throne isn’t worth the risk. But I can’t have them see me as weak.” He contemplated the situation and leaned over, close to Patrick, and in hushed whispers sought his advice. “What would you have me do?”

  “Hold a competition,” Patrick tried, is he really asking his prisoner for guidance right now? “Let them fight for the other half of me. It will prove you are still in power, but fair.”

  The King sat back and weighed his options. Patrick could not believe he was actually buying into this. “And what of all the losers? Won’t they be angered with me? If I’m only to share you with one other, I can count on his loyalty. But the others?”

  “They will be weakened by the fight, unable to mount any kind of attack. While you sit full and happy, they will sit weakened and defeated.”

  “I have a better idea. And I think you’re going to love it!” The King was giddy, like a kid in a candy store whose mother just told them to buy whatever they’d like. “The fight, we make it to the death!”

  Patrick was taken aback by the King’s plan. He didn’t necessarily like the idea of killing all these Martians and making them suffer. But he also didn’t like the idea of them ripping his body in half for a nice meal. At this point, Patrick realized he had to do whatever it took to get out of here alive with Flupotia. His survival instincts had kicked in, even with fighting the Martians. Patrick was surprised at himself how well he had fared, even if it had only been for a brief moment. He was also shocked at how easily the King was talked into following his plan. Honestly, he thought, when did I become such a smooth-talker? It never worked on the ladies at school…

  “It is a brutal plan, but I love it! It’s too bad you weren’t born a Martian. You would have gone far, possibly even been my son.”

  Patrick was pulled back to reality and focused his mind on the task ahead of him. He knew everything had to go smoothly if he was to survive.

  “Everyone, gather round, stop building the fires and drop everything you are doing!” The King’s voice grew as he spoke, reaching the far corners of the cave as the Martians slowly dropped what they were doing to address their King. “I said to stop!”

  He sounds like such an entitled fool, Patrick thought to himself, not daring to interrupt or belittle the King in this moment.

  “It has come to my attention that this lone man is small.” He motioned to Patrick. “He is clearly not fully grown and will not satisfy all our hunger. In an effort to be fair and just, I will let you all decide who is to share him with me. You shall do so through a fight to the death; the last living will share the boy equally with me! Anyone who does not wish to participate will forfeit their next three meals. Does everyone understand?”

  “No,” a small voice piped up to the left of the King, “I have a question.”

  “What?!” The King shouted, clearly annoyed.

  “Why aren’t you competing with us?”

  With a scoff, the King said, “Don’t be stupid. I am King and would not be able to enjoy the fight if I was in it!”

  Without warning the King pulled out a crooked, rusty sword and pushed it into the gut of the Martian who had asked the question. It made a sickening crunching sound and an intense sour smell escaped from the wound, causing Patrick to throw up in his mouth. He hadn’t noticed the smell while on his killing spree, but now it was all he could focus on.

  Patrick swallowed his bile and looked over to see the King enjoying himself far too much. The sword was twisted left and right a few times as the King hummed a song, a grin plastered across his face. Finally, he pushed the dead Martian off his sword and turned to another standing nearby. He laid the sword flat against his chest to wipe it clean.

  While still inches from the Martians face the King yelled, “PREPARE FOR BATTLE!”

  Patrick sat in disbelief that his plan was actually going to work. Almost all of the Martians chose to fight, leaving a small group of weaker looking Martians on the sidelines. Patrick worried for a moment but figured he would handle that when the time came. One crisis at a time. If he could just get out of his bindings by the time the battle was done, he would have no troubles overpowering them.

  While Patrick silently struggled, Flupotia was dragged over and thrown into a heap next to him. She was tied and bound the same as him and barely conscious. She was entirely unaware of what was going on around her. Patrick looked at her with admiration. She had done all she could, sacrificed her own well-being to give him a fighting chance.

  “Patrick,” she stirred next to him causing Patrick to jump. “What’s going on?”

  “Are you okay?” Patrick stared in disbelief as she sat up. He gave her a quick overview of what had happened since she passed out. She seemed to be following along with all he said.

  “I hope this works,” she said without much confidence, but knew she wouldn’t be able to come up with a better plan.

  “It’s your turn to put your trust in me.”

  “Okay… But Patrick? I need to tell you something… In case we don’t make it.”

  Patrick shuddered slightly at her words. “Don’t talk like that. We’ll be fine, just try to rest for a little while.”

  “But Patrick, you really need to know…”

  She didn’t get to finish her sentence; her eyes closed, and she fell back into a deep sleep. Patrick checked on her breathing and managed to cover her with a torn-up blanket that was hanging off the King’s throne. She was still such a mystery to Patrick. He felt as if he knew nothing about her, yet also knew everything. He trusted her completely and knew she felt the same. He watched her sleep far too long; her peaceful demeanor amidst the chaos was captivating. Yet again, he found himself drawn in by her beauty, awkwardly reaching out to brush some loose strands of hair from her face.

  “Rest now, you have done enough.”

  “LET THE FIGHT BEGIN!” The King's voice roared across the chamber.

  In the blink of an eye, the cave came to life in a fit of mass hysteria. The Martians were screaming wildly and running towards each other from all directions. Swords clashed and blood sprayed into the air. Patrick watched in both amazement and disgust. They were killing each other with no regard for friend, neighbor or even family. His thoughts drifted to a history lesson where they had learned about the Civil War. It was baffling to Patrick, what people and other living beings, were capable of doing in the name of greed and anger. Am I really doing the right thing? Patrick felt
the self-doubt slowly creep up.

  He quickly squashed these thoughts. He knew in his heart that his quest was not about his anger or his greed. If he didn’t continue, the aliens would take over the Earth and all the galaxy. There was no telling what the world would look like under the rule of their king. Of course I’m doing the right thing! While the killing didn’t sit right with Patrick, he knew he was only doing what needed to be done.

  The fight around Patrick raged on as he battled his own inner demons. Within just the first few minutes of fighting, at least half of the Martians were dead or writhing on the ground in pain. The foul stench in the air was growing rapidly, and Patrick struggled to hold back his vomit. The Martians continued on though, stepping around the fallen and killing the next one in line. The King was watching the fight with a passion in his eyes that was disturbing by any account. He was loving every minute of this, starting to place bets with Patrick. Telling him who he would want to share the meal with.

  “Oh, that one looks scrawny enough…” the King whispered maniacally. “I wouldn’t mind sharing with him… more for me, yes… mmm, yes.” Patrick scoffed and the King turned to him as if he had forgotten he was there.

  “Wonderful, isn’t it? So beautiful, the sacrifice being made in my honor. I cannot wait to dine on you; you look so delicious. You’re not wrong though, you’re definitely scrawnier than many of the men on Mars. However, you’re still meatier than most of the ones we managed to capture. You’ll do just nicely!”

  Patrick rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath. “Working out… trying to impress the girls at school… doing my homework and chores every night… and my reward, a Martian who can’t wait to eat me?”

  “Shut your mouth. I don’t want to listen to your sob stories. I just want to eat you.” He turned his back on Patrick and became engrossed once again in the fighting. “Ouch!” he said, throwing a punch in the air. “The poor Martian I wanted to win just died. Tackled from behind, what a way to go.” Turning back to Patrick with wild eyes, he said, “did you hear his spine snap?”