Ethan Eternal

Chapter 10

“The Nest of Vipers”

            About 13 percent of all deaths are caused by cancer. When cells begin to mutate or divide without respect to ordinary limits or invade other tissues they become classified as malignant. A malignant tumor may spread rapidly and lead to severe health deterioration… eventually killing the victim. I use the word “victim” because this malignancy acts not like a disease… but like a mindless killer… consumed by an insatiable thirst for blood and hate. It is so powerless to this lust that it will eventually destroy itself while on this irrational quest for indulgence.

            Cancer chooses its victims without reason or purpose. There are ways to invite it… but no way to keep it from those it wants the most. It will seek out who it desires. It will hunt them… stalk them with brutal efficiency and claim all… good or evil… without hesitation or regret. Cancer is a hellish machine… a savage hate made flesh.

            What strange fate would place a man like Ethan Dorian within such close proximity to a child like Danny Hill? There could not be two souls more different in this world… or two tumors (despite interior location) that could be so similar. Every chart… every graph… every test result… all confirmed that both man and boy shared almost identical growths and completely identical prognoses. Death had planned his work well and would save a trip when he collected them together. Time was almost out for them. The monster’s work was almost done… but… Ethan had no intention of letting it finish.

            …at least not for him.

            An electric hum slowly crept across the ceiling of the vault. Florescent bulbs came to life high above revealing an area larger than most houses. The walls were ornately decorated in gold with tapestries of ancient battles hand painted on fine cloth draped in billowing patterns from a vaulted ceiling. Another hum resounded and a foot thick iron door pulled bulky bars into its self and released a puff of ionized air. Another motor turned and guided the massive slab of steel away from the doorway… revealing a shadowy figure and the boy that was his master.

            Ethan had designed this contraption himself. He adored the mechanical precision of the iron and the assurance that such security provided. There were few men that could be trusted but he had always enjoyed good luck with steel. He grinned as the noises stopped and the fully lit closet stood before him. Ethan hesitated as he admired the arsenal before him. The collection was a mish-mash of old and new… of ancient blades and modern computer guided incendiary devices. These were the toys designed for a boy like Daniel Dorian. Ethan would make sure they were put to good use.

            Stepping into his “closet” Ethan surveyed the racks of guns… cases of knives… quills of arrows… bundles of body armor… crates of explosives… and ornamental swords carefully hung on each wall. He let out a sigh. Dorian was at peace here. He was safe. He was home.

            “David, I’d like to be alone.”

            The butler had not taken too well to the new Ethan. He was not entirely convinced that this was indeed the same man that he had been employed by for the past 20 years. He suspected that what he had been told was true though… and knew better than to test any doubt that lingered. If this child was Ethan Dorian… then there would be nothing to gain from any show of disbelief.  Instead, the elder gentleman nodded and began to turn and leave.

            “Oh… Mr. Dorian…” David said as memory halted his retreat.

            Ethan exhaled… mildly annoyed… He was growing tired of explaining the necessity of addressing him as “Danny” or “Daniel” to everyone under his umbrella of employment but he supposed that his butler would be expected to speak with him more formally than the others… so he allowed David’s choice of words.

            “Yes David?”

            “Well… It’s just…” David stumbled on his tongue as he sensed Dorian’s change in mood.

            “It’s just that the doctor asked that you maintain a very specific schedule with your medication. It’s almost time and I just wanted to be sure that…”

            Ethan interrupted, “Thank you David. I’m quite aware of my schedule. Go away.”

            David bowed slightly and obeyed.

            The butler’s footsteps echoed into silence and Dorian let a full minute pass before he let himself relax. The boy placed his hands together at the small of his back and began to pace across the oak floor beneath him… inspecting each piece with a jeweler’s eye. As he did so… he began to marvel at the size of the weapons. They had grown too large for him to wield… most of them anyway… and it would be years before he could take full advantage of these instruments of his trade.

Some of these tools had been used before and Ethan smiled as each gave up its history. These were his children. These were his pets. Perhaps soon he would find a use for the smaller pieces… perhaps tonight. He picked up a short katana sword and let the blade hum in the wind. He spun around gracefully and began a fencer’s tango… but soon grew lonely with no one to share the dance. Ethan stood in silence… let the flat edge of the sword cool his scalp and shut his eyes in reverence for the tale of his Japanese companion.

When his eyes opened… he caught sight of his hands again. They were so small… so new and fresh. He let the katana drop to the floor with a heavy clank as his thoughts returned to the perfection of his new self. His blue eyes widened and focused on the pale fingers of the child he had become. He could not keep fixating on them so. He would have to stop doing this so often. After all… they were just fingers… just thumbs… palms… wrists… nothing more. The hands captivated Ethan… such small… such perfect… hands…

            Carlos led George to an armored car that had apparently been borrowed from one of Ethan's security companies. The back doors were open and two men sat with their feet dangling down above the dark black asphalt. A larger blond haired figure was lying on the road staring up at the sky. At first, George thought the man might be dead but as he approached… the murky shape moved. A pudgy face grinned stupidly towards the falling mist… but Miles was far from stupid. Miles was this man’s name… or the name he used… and though his moronic appearance might set some at ease… George knew better… for Miles was also miles away from sanity.

            An amber flicker illuminated one of the sitting men. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled a long puff of grey smoke. From the cigarette light George saw that this was Jack. A professional gamesman, Jack made his living hunting the rarest and most dangerous animals in Africa and South America. He took down animals large and small… legal and illegal… all manner of horned beast and pelted creature. He made a fortune selling skins and trophies… but his true passion was the thing that drew him here. Jack enjoyed hunting men most of all.

            “Well hello there Gawge. We was about convinced you’d left us out in the cold.” Jack said with a smooth Southern draw. He spoke with a fluidity that mesmerized women and earned most men’s trust upon any initial casual conversation. It was part of what made him dangerous. George almost liked Jack… trust was another topic.

            The last man made no noise. He simply stared at George through matted hair that fell down over his eyes. Of all these men, George liked Vicente the least. There was an odd spark in his eye... a strange yet familiar threat that George recognized all too well. Vicente was ambitious as well as insane. He aspired to control a massive criminal empire of his own one day… or at least a small one. His primary obstacle was insanity... though he clearly would never realize it. George saw this though... saw it well enough to use it to his advantage. He kept Vicente close... not too close... but close enough to keep an eye on him.

            Vicente's eyes were wide as he watched George approach. He seemed prepared to lunge and equally ready to flee at a moment's notice. He had suspicions about everyone. No one could be trusted. They were all schemers and liars... nothing more. He was careful not to take his eyes off of any of them. He was always careful. With George though... he was even more cautious. He had to be. After all... George held all the keys to the kingdom that was rightfully his.

            “Hello... George...” Vicente spoke with an eerie voice too low to be mistaken for anyone else. His words came leisurely. He spoke with a pace measured carefully... like everything else he did. It would be safe to classify Vicente as a creepy individual. Once might imagine that he was in fact the exact model for the intended use of that term. It was not just the voice or the wide eyes. Vicente’s creepiness extended to all areas of his persona. His lips curled awkwardly when he spoke… his hands gestured oddly when he was silent… and then there was that metallic smell. Even someone like George felt his skin crawl around Vicente.

            George did not reply to either Jack or Vicente. He stepped to within a few feet of Miles and glared down at his subordinate.

            “What is he doing?” George demanded from no one in particular… which meant he didn’t care who answered but the answer had better come quickly.

            Jack obliged.

            “Oh you know silly ol’ Miles. He’s just horsein’ around some. He don’t get outside too much any more. I recon he’s just sayin’ hello to old Mr. Raincloud.”

            George shifted his eyes to Jack for a moment. The smoking hunter tried not to appear too terrified by this and thankfully the giant’s attention was cast back to Miles without much delay. Annoyed but not angry, George muttered lowly.

            “Get up Miles… Get up now… unless you want to stay there.”

            These words were enough to get his attention. Miles stopped smiling and stuttered a reply with a meek and terrified rasp.

            “Y…y… ye… yes… Mr. George.”

            Miles slipped on the wet road as he started to rise. His bulk dropped to the ground with a heavy slap. George did not react. He only stared patiently. Miles did not wait for this to change. He moved as quickly as he could manage and used the bumper of the armored car for leverage to pull him self up. Soaked and filthy, Miles looked every bit the pig that he was.  He lurched back onto the armored car and leaned there… eyes down… quiet and submissive. He was a pathetic monster.

            One might mistake Miles for a harmless fool or an eccentric oaf… but he was neither. This was a creature that found fulfillment in the butchery of small children and comfort in their sustenance. He had come in handy more than once when George had a body he needed to be rid of. George never asked… how… Miles had disposed of the remains of so many young boys and girls. He never had to. Miles wore his secret on his face. He spoke it with licked lips, wild eyes and a girth that could not lie. Miles was an annoyance… but a valuable one. Tonight he would prove his worth… for his appetite was not bound exclusively… to children.

            George eyed the three resting on the armored car and then turned to Carlos as he spoke. Authority poured from him as though The Devil himself was speaking.

            “We have a game to finish tonight. I trust you are prepared to play.”

            Carlos nodded like a snake.

            George continued with a booming resound, “There is unfinished business with The Hill Family… and Mr. Dorian needs to put the past behind him… Tonight.”

            Carlos nodded again and muttered almost silently, “Ah… Montana…”

            “Yes.” George answered and then turned his attention back to Jack, Miles and Vicente.

            “Carlos was with me the last time we dealt with Mr. Hill and The Ranger. He will now instruct you on how to deal with them.”

            Envy poured from Jack… surprise from Miles… and from Vicente… disdain. None of them had seen Montana… and there were many rumors about what happened there. Each had his reasons to feel concerned about a lack of invitation to that event. George would use their apprehension to his advantage.

            “You will all answer to Carlos. He will answer to me. Understood?”

            All three reluctantly nodded.

            George continued in a deliberate tone, “This will all be over soon. I have a way to find them…”