Nameless, p.1
Nameless, page 1
THEY ARE THE NAMELESS; NAMES ARE
FOR THOSE WITH MASTERS AND THEY HAVE
NONE. THEY LIVE IN THE NAMELESS REALM,
AWAITING THEIR INESCAPABLE EXECUTION.
From the beginning of man, they have witnessed the blackest crimes committed. Witnessed the crops of the earth watered with tears and blood spilled by man, woman, and child. Witnessed the gluttony of commercialism, hypocrisy of moral leaders, and failure of politicians. But there is something more that torments them, the simple logic that grips the backs of their throats and will not let go. No matter how much they plead or pray, they will die, but humans will remain forever.
The Nameless and the human world collide when one Nameless meets Aurick Pantera, a sleazy drunk about to be murdered by a gang over his debts. One Nameless, who is condemned for his supposed wickedness, feels compassion, possesses Aurick’s body, and saves his life. Soon he discovers the delights of the human world: the smell of roses, the touch of seashells, the taste of women. With the belief that any bad situation can be flipped into good, he uses Aurick’s body to live life to the fullest—to become a rock star, have a successful psychiatric practice, and pursue superstar journalist Helena Way.
In a twisted turn, other Nameless take notice of his impossible achievements and begin appearing to Aurick. They give him the opportunity of a lifetime: to take back the eternal life they felt they were cheated out of and disprove the infallibility of their father. As they prepare for a war not even their Creator could imagine, Aurick stands at the center of it all. Does he join the ranks to return to former divine glory, jeopardizing the lives he has come to love and humanity as a whole? Or can he accept execution to protect them? Aurick faces this impossible choice, unless … a third option exists?
KYLE CHAIS makes his fiction debut at age eighteen with Nameless. He lives in Brooklyn, New York.
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NAMELESS
Gallery Books
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Karen Hunter Publishing,
A Division of Suitt-Hunter
Enterprises, LLC
598 Broadway, 3rd Floor
New York, NY 10012
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Kyle Chais
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Gallery Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
First Karen Hunter Publishing/Gallery Books trade paperback edition January 2012
GALLERY BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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Designed by Akasha Archer
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
Chais, Kyle.
Nameless / by Kyle Chais—1st Karen Hunter Publishing/ Gallery Books trade paperback ed.
p. cm.
1. Angels—Fiction i. Titls
PS3603.H33354N36 2011
813'.6—dc22
2010035439
ISBN 978-1-4391-8725-8 (print)
ISBN 978-1-4391-8729-6 (eBook)
For the Abuela
CONTENTS
Chapter I: Host of the Millennia
Chapter II: Stalker
Chapter III: Bandmates
Chapter IV: Nameless Hero
Chapter V: Dr. Doctor
Chapter VI: Hell Date
Chapter VII: Lofie
Chapter VIII: Sunny Beach
Chapter IX: Seizure of Property
Chapter X: New Leaf
Chapter XI: Aurick Christ
Chapter XII: My Nameless Friend’s Friend
Chapter XIII: My Nameless Friend’s Girlfriend
Chapter XIV: Nameless Fellowship
Chapter XV: Spiritual Harassment
Chapter XVI: The Good, The Bad, and the Nameless
Chapter XVII: Nameless Allegiance
Chapter XVIII: The Innocent and the Nameless
Chapter XIX: Timeless
Chapter XX: Judas
Chapter XXI: Humanless
Chapter XXII: Justice
Chapter XXIII: Nothing Less
Chapter XXIV: Nameless
Chapter XXV: Name
Acknowledgments
I
HOST OF THE MILLENNIA
I am nameless. Names are for those with masters. Therefore, we have no name. The day of the demon is coming to an end. We await our pending execution. Many of us look forward to this imminent judgment. Others pathetically cower in their deserving of death. I have wandered the earth for millennia trying to find a way out. I realize now that it is hopeless. It can be quite boring when you’re immortal and waiting at the same time. So I watch humans. From the Nameless realm I watch, analyzing their behaviors, motives, climaxes, recessions, and, most important, their power of choice.
From the beginning of man, I have witnessed the blackest crimes they have committed. Witnessed the crops of the earth watered with black blood spilled by men, women, and children all over the world. But one thing still torments me and my kind. It’s the one simple thing that grips us in the back of our throats and won’t let go. The one thing that has turned the most civilized ones among us into vengeful, raging lunatic monsters. That no matter how much we beg, no matter how much time we are given, no matter how much we pray, we will die, but humans … will remain. Irony’s judgment is … ticklish.
Angels were given a perfect start, a perfect body, mind, and world with no problems. We were given the capabilities to serve our Father perfectly without fault. This was our great ability. Humans once had this ability but it was lost. Their ancestor parents traded it for a fruit and a snake. As for us angels, we traded it for our own fruits and snakes. We were at the pinnacle of perfection when we turned our backs on Father. Adam and Eve’s offspring weren’t. They were slaves to their selves. Thoughts … were my downfall. Thoughts. Damn that woman.
You are probably pondering, “What do demons do with their spare time?”
Well, first, don’t ever use that term demon with us. It’s extremely derogatory. We prefer to be called Fallen.
And I can’t speak for my brethren, but I spend most of my time counting stars. It may be tedious, but it passes the time nicely. I enjoy taking long strolls through the park. I like going on carnival rides. I like going to operas. I like watching ballets. I also enjoy watching movies at theaters. That was one great addition to mankind—although I feel that the quality of movies is going down the toilet with these new special effects. I haven’t seen a film that was truly original in years. The better the special effects, the worse the quality of the movie. How ironic. Yummy steak sauce with no steak.
This evening was particularly boring. I wish I could pass the time by sleeping, but beings such as me don’t. Humans don’t understand how valuable sleep is. They can kill eight hours or so just by shutting their skinny little eyelids and being still. So instead I decided to watch The Wizard of Oz on Broadway. This would be my 203rd time seeing it. I’ve memorized every single line from beginning to end. This is the only play I never grow tired of. Like Dorothy, I’ve searched the corners of a fantasy world trying get back home. With perseverance she made it back. How beautiful. How lovely. Such a good example to live by. What a crock of crap.
I’ll never make it home. I am still here. In this fantasy world. Dreams really don’t come true. For my kind. Funny. With all our power, that’s one thing we can’t do.
After drifting through the city slums of Manhattan, a human male stumbled through an alleyway. He was drunk, so drunk he had to lean on walls to walk. He was looking so bad that even the harlots didn’t want to get near him.
I watched, and I could see he was headed for a bar. I had actually been studying this human for a few months. His name is Aurick Pantera. He is one of the lowlifes of society; Aurick is always in debt, gambling his checks away, lying, cheating, and stealing. The money that was left was spent on women and booze.
It used to be worse. Before he was on meds, Aurick had bad hallucinations, imagining himself to be other people, some who didn’t even exist. Poor pathetic creature.
Lately, Aurick had been hit with a certain … troubling issue. This problem is the most feared issue in the world. An excruciating evil. One of the biggest manslayers of this planet. Cancer. Not only that but it’s one of cancer’s most sinister villains, pancreatic cancer. The silent killer. Only about 5 percent diagnosed survive after three to five years. What a true villain indeed. You only have a chance of surviving this murderer if you treat it as early as it devours your flesh, bones, and soul. Foolishly, Aurick was too scared to follow through with more tests and treatment. He has the sense that if he ignores it, it’ll go away. And if it doesn’t go away, he will be too busy enjoying his life to care. Bury your skull in the dirt .
That’s right, Aurick, live on to the bitter end. He was doing the right thing. People should not struggle against their demise. They should not think of the pain. They should just lie down and be at peace as I have. It is what has been keeping me separate from the others. My sanity is my reward.
I followed him into Dead Man’s Pub. It’s a bar where all the dregs of the city go to escape their problems and morals. It even has the saying “What happens in Dead Man’s Pub stays in Dead Man’s Pub.” Original, eh?
Aurick climbed up the stairwell and knocked on the back exit of the bar.
The doorman answered and said in a gruff voice, “You can’t enter this way. Go through the front.”
“It’s okay,” Aurick said, flipping up the collar on his black jacket and combing back his soaked jet-black hair with his fingers. “It’s me, Ben.”
The guard opened the door and allowed him in. The bar was crowded with drunken thugs and goons. The lights were dim, which made the ugliest individual look attractive. One of my abilities as a spirit creature allows me to see germs clearly as bright green globs. Humans are covered in them, disgusting swine that they are—dancing and bumping into each other, touching and spreading impurities to each other. I watched them eat the green that covered their salted peanuts and Chex Mix.
The toxic odor of alcohol was immense. The packed bar had an almost overwhelmingly putrid stench of liquor and tobacco smoke. Tension hovered in the air.
Yet I was safe since I reside in the spirit realm. Spirit creatures such as me dwell in the Nameless realm, which is a separate dimension intertwined with humans’ material realm.
Nameless is intangible to beings of the material realm. Only certain creatures, such as some cats, snakes, weasels, skunks, owls, and dogs can sense those of Nameless. In other words, I can see beings from the material realm but they can’t see or affect me.
Aurick sat down at a barstool and ordered his drinks. He dove into his liquor and spoke to the female bartender about things the bartender didn’t care about. Anytime a new female sat down at the bar, Aurick would stumble over to her and try to pick her up. His sour breath, slurred speech, and bloodshot, disoriented eyes were enough to make any female flee.
It was funny how he started out trying to court the most attractive females at the beginning of the night, only to wind up going after the most unattractive by the end. It was like going down from ten to one. Well, I guess the more you drink, the more attractive people appear. He whispered something atrocious into one blonde female’s ear, which offended her so much that she slapped him across his face and treaded heavily away. He finally gave up and went back to his drinking.
The bartender asked him to stop drinking, but Aurick just got upset and started a drunken rant. Downing one drink after the next, he finally fell asleep (or passed out) at the bar. A group of four thugs approached him and tapped his shoulder with great force. Aurick didn’t wake up, so a tall, brutish-looking white man with a ginger-colored beard picked up a drink and splashed it over Aurick’s head and down his shirt.
He woke up in a daze, looking around, disoriented. “Hey, why would you waste a perfectly good drink? There are less fortunate people than us that would die for a drink, ya know.”
“Cut the crap, Dwayne!” said the one with the ginger beard, using the fake name Aurick had given him. “You’ve been holdin’ out on me. Where’s my money?”
“Oh, Samson, fancy meeting you here!” Fear sobered Aurick and his voice trembled. “How’d you find me?”
“You know why I’m here. Where’s my money?” Samson said with rising irritation.
“Look, Samson, I don’t have the money right now. I-I need another week to get the cash up.”
“You said that four months ago, Dwayne. I’ve been real patient. So are you saying you don’t have my money?”
Aurick sank down into the barstool and stayed quiet.
“That’s it. Get up, Dwayne. … I said get up!” Samson grabbed Aurick’s collar, lifting him with ease.
Two of Samson’s goons grabbed each of Aurick’s arms and escorted him to the back exit of the bar. I followed to watch the entertainment. They stepped down the steel steps of the bar outside into the alleyway. Aurick tumbled down. He drunkenly got up, revealing a bloody cut on his forehead.
“Look, Samson, I’m sorry,” Aurick whimpered. “I just need some time.”
Samson delivered a hard, quick blow to Aurick’s stomach. Aurick collapsed on his knees and coughed up spit and mucus. The other goons cheered.
“Yeah! Give it to him good, Sam, give it to him good,” one of the goons said. “Teach that lowlife to learn to keep his promises!”
As Aurick was on his knees gagging, Samson kneed him in his face, flipping him onto his back. Samson lifted Aurick to his feet with ease and delivered blow after blow to his face, spilling blood from the open wound on his head. Samson then lifted Aurick over his head and threw him into nearby trash cans and bags, causing a great crash and commotion. Aurick rolled over the dirty, wet garbage bags. He pleaded, crying for mercy. Samson didn’t want to hear it. The other thugs kicked Aurick repeatedly in his sides while he was curled on the ground.
I thought maybe these barbarians could give Aurick an escape by ending his miserable life, providing him with a shortcut.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Samson said to his goons. “We need to get out of here. Lift him up.” His goons obeyed and lifted Aurick to his feet and stepped away. Aurick seemed to be gasping for air as if he were drowning.
“You’re …” Aurick stopped to fill some more air into his shaky lungs. “You’re letting me go?” His eyes widened in great surprise.
“Yeah, I’m letting you go.”
“Oh, thank you, Samson!” Aurick placed his shaking, scraped palms on Samson’s shoulders. “I’ll get you the money tomorrow. I swear.” Aurick’s voice sounded as if he had been locked in a freezer for hours and was desperately trying to keep warm.
Samson reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and pulled out a black object. He lifted the black object and pointed it toward Aurick’s face. The object was an instrument of death. A gun.
“I’m setting you free, Dwayne. This is the most mercy that anyone could ever give you.”
“No, please, Samson, don’t do it! Please! Oh, God, please don’t kill me!” Aurick eyes squirted tears that flooded his face.
“Yeah, do it, Sammy. Take him out for good,” one of the goons said. Another advised Samson not to do it. Samson told him to shut up. Aurick squeezed his eyes tight and started praying to God for help. What a riot. Aurick’s life would end before the cancer ate him. How lucky indeed.
I contemplated whether I should help Aurick. At least it had been entertaining and helped me pass some of my time. This poor man’s life was pitiful. This would put him out of his misery and give him a shortcut to salvation. And I could just watch another human for fun.
Nonetheless, for some reason, I decided to save Aurick.
If we spirit creatures are strong enough, we can interact with the human realm. Using my abilities to accurately read Samson’s muscle exertion in his arm and read his blood pressure to tell when he was going to pull the trigger, I diverted the trajectory of the bullet by bending the surrounding air. The bullet grazed Aurick’s arm. Samson and his goons stood there confused.
Aurick peeked with one eye at the group.
“It was a blank! Shoot him again!” one of the thugs said. Samson pointed the gun again and Aurick shut his eyes again. The gun let off another bang but I deflected the bullet again, saving Aurick’s pathetic life once more.
“What the hell, another blank?” Samson said with confusion. Samson squeezed the trigger again but I caused the gun to backfire. Shards scattered and sliced through everything around.
Samson gazed down at his hand, his once manly hand he’d used to torment his foes. He clenched his water fountain of a hand and screamed, like a woman giving birth. Two of Samson’s fingers were blown off, and shards from the gun were sticking through his skin.
“Let’s get out of here!” one of the goons said as the others ran off.
“I swear, you’ll pay for this, Dwayne,” Samson cried, following his crew, holding his hand in pain.
Aurick wiped the tears from his face and ran off, muttering, “Thank you, God.”
