The Bridge

It was coming again. The haze. The slow wash away from reality into something happy. Gil started daydreaming. He hadn’t allowed himself the pleasure before. Daydreaming kept you from being focused, aware and precise. He thought it wasted time. But as his life had descended into turmoil in the past weeks, he’d sometimes open the gates of his mind to let his imagination carry him to more pleasant places.

Right now, he was thinking of the new girl that had just started at his store. Tamia? Tiana? Her name may have eluded him now… but those eyes. Their shifts had only crossed once, and they’d only met in passing, but there was something about her. He fantasized that maybe once this was all over, he would return to her and, if he could summon the courage, ask her on a date.

No. He would ask her.

They’d go somewhere elegant and expensive where he could spoil her. He’d show up with flowers and a knowing smile. He’d tell her she looked beautiful, and she’d blush. And she’d be so impressed by his charm and wit that later, she’d practically melt out of her clothes onto his bed. Yeah. His bed. He’d kiss her gently, and she’d bite her lip… he’d kiss her neck and… her belly button and...

“Hey,” a harsh and totally unwelcome voice shattered his fantasy, “Is it your master plan to stand there all day like a dumbass?”

Gil snapped back to reality, ripped away from the perfect evening. He was back to the wash of the midday sun, back to fresh air, and back to standing lakeside in the middle of the undeveloped wilds of the restricted 3,000 acre California campground known as the Bohemian Grove.

He wore a fitted three-piece suit, complete with a tucked handkerchief and pocket watch chain. This suit was one that they’d given him to conduct his business-- well, their business. It was ridiculous. He looked and felt like a 1900s aficionado on his way to some weird dress-up party. If he were doing his job right, he would never be seen by anyone that wasn’t cleared to. Even then, when he was to meet with people, he was always to show up as someone different anyway.

He’d recently discovered he possessed the ability to shapeshift, and he was getting better at it. He could hold another person’s form for almost two hours now. So he didn’t get why he had to dress so strictly for a situation like this. But part of survival was knowing which battles to pick, and he had more pressing concerns than his enslavers’ sense of fashion.

He sighed at the voice, then turned to face it.

“Take it down,” He said evenly.

Arriaga was standing a ways away from him, glaring through rectangular glasses that made her look like a pissed-off librarian. She was young, dressed in a similar suit too; all black like her attitude.

“Take it down?” She asked. It was a question, but just barely.

They were standing on concrete flooring under a giant owl statue, built in the image of Arriaga’s 7th great grandfather, Molech The Horrendous. The structure’s design was simple and crude and looked more like a rough concept rather than a finished product. But for being built when Man still relied on sticks and stones to get by, Gil estimated its craftsmanship would have made it the Michelangelo’s David of its time.

“This statue hints to the reality of your order,” Gil said, “You’re supposed to be an invisible force, controlling things from the shadows, right? Having owl symbolism displayed so blatantly seems foolish.”

“Foolish?” Arriaga raised an eyebrow. She pulled a small black booklet from her jacket and wrote something down. “You hear that, boys? The halfling says we’re foolish. I think I might cry.”

Laughing at her joke, standing to either side of Arriaga were her two bodyguards. Gil knew the bald one holding a briefcase was Hosko, but the other one’s name he’d have to learn later. Arriaga only spoke to that one in Beura, a language Gil couldn’t understand or speak. In fact, he would never be able to speak it. Apparently, Gil’s mouth hadn’t evolved in a way that would allow for the pronunciation of any of the syllables needed for Beura. Whatever. He’d find a way around that, too.

“Why don’t you think having this here is a bad idea?”

“Because it’s not.” She shrugged, jotting something else down in the book.

“But why not remove all trace of yourselves from the equation? The owl mythos is already in the conspiracy zeitgeist, and even that seems a little too close for comfort. If I wanted to stay a secret, I’d want any insinuation of my true nature erased. You have American leaders meeting here, and for what, to worship you? What if they connect the dots? Do they--” Gil stopped as he realized he was being ignored. Arriaga was scribbling something in her book again, “What are you writing?”

She smirked, “Father says I’m not allowed to kill you, but it’s so much fun to think about. Every time I think of a new way I could end you, I write it down. Helps me control the urge to rip you in half, or set you on fire, or break your bones one by one,” Arriaga looked up at him, “At the rate you’re going, I’m gonna need a new book.”

He was shocked and thought he must’ve been doing a terrible job hiding it because her smile was getting wider.

“The statue stays up,” She said curtly, “It’s always good to mix a little truth with the lie. It makes things spicier, you know? Plus, this is the only statue left of one of the greatest Hax Talons who ever lived.”

Gil knew now that the “Hax Talon” was their leader, their King. The ruler of these beings called Howletts. Now, the title of Hax Talon belonged to Arriaga’s father, Hiros, the sixty-foot-tall Great Gray owl that was ultimately responsible for the course of human history over the last three thousand years.

“But--”

“We’re done here,” Arriaga snapped.

She turned towards Hosko and the other one and said, “You have no right to make demands or silly requests like this, and honestly, you’ve already wasted much more of my day than I’d usually allow. You’re the Bridge. You serve as messenger between us and the human elite. Nothing more. I may be assigned as your handler, but make no mistake,” she threw him a piercing look, “you work for me.”

She extended her arm, and a red, swirling portal of cosmic energy appeared in thin air. She stepped one foot in before saying, “Humans with the jobs of Howletts... the hell is this world coming to?”

More laughter from her bodyguards. They were laughing at Gil, but for what? It wasn’t his fault he’d been forced into this position as the “Bridge” or whatever. He hadn’t asked for any of this. He would have been absolutely fine not knowing that there was a secret society of Owlpeaple that controlled every aspect of human life, but there he was, and there they were.

Gil had simply seen someone in a crowd that looked like his dead cousin. The experience triggered something in him that caused him to morph his appearance into that cousin. It was horrible. Soon after, he’d been captured, tortured, and forced into this job at the Hax Talon’s command. Why? Why any of this? He needed answers, and he needed them now.

“Do I look like I want your fucking job?” Gil snapped.

She smiled something evil and stepped out of the portal, “Halfling--”

“I’m talking!” Gil cut her off.

To Gil’s surprise, Arriaga stopped talking. He doubted he’d actually managed to gaslight her into silence. She looked enraged, but she hadn’t lunged for him or even reached for her book. Maybe she really couldn’t kill him. Surely that didn’t make him untouchable, though. So how far could he push this?

“I’ve been thinking,” Gil started, “about my role in all of this. Why me, you know? One day a complete nobody learns he has what can only be described as a superpower. Because of that, he’s kidnapped and forced into slavery...”

“Slavery?” Arriaga hissed, “You ungrateful little-- We’ve just elevated your life in ways you don’t deserve.” She spat on the ground, “You’re nothing! You’re just human.”

Gil looked Arriaga in the eyes and said, “But I’m not, am I?”

Gil noticed one of her hands ball into a fist. He was on the right tracked, it seemed. But why was she getting so mad? She was a stranger to him. He didn’t know a damn thing about her, yet it was clear that she hated him.

“It would have been a lot easier for your order to kill me,” He said. “You all control everything, every war, every political dispute, every movement, and genocide. Hell, you’re probably responsible for every stubbed toe or failed surgery on some level. So why am I so special!?” Arriaga clenched her jaw as Gil said, “I think I know why.”

Arriaga’s eyes narrowed.

“Halfling,” Gil quoted. “You really are foolish. Tell me; Its easier for you to hate me than to admit--”

“Don’t.” She whispered.

“Than to admit that your father isn’t the homebody you thought he was. Is that right, sister?”

Before Gil’s mind could register another thought, pain exploded in every nerve of his face, as if a brick had just smashed through it! He opened his eyes to find himself on the ground. He lifted a shaking hand to his face. So much blood. He coughed and spat out a multitude of teeth.

“Motherfucker.”

He looked up through blurry vision to see Arriaga standing above him. But she was different now. Her head was that of an Owl’s. His eyes glanced to her hand, which was now covered in feathers and dripping with his blood.

She lifted him off the ground, “You think you’re so smart?”

“My point,” Gil choked, “Is that I never asked for this. Neither did you.”

She punched him three rib-shattering times in the gut before slamming him onto the concrete. He couldn’t move. Pain owned him now.

“What will Hiros do when you kill me?”

“Shut up,” Arriaga said.

Gil flinched as she stepped past him. She walked up the few stone steps to the statue and stood below its grandeur. First, a deep breath, then, with a wail, she punched a hole right through it! Suddenly, she was screaming, demolishing the statue with her fists until it was rubble and she was out of breath.

She knelt over Gil and said, “It’s down.”

She nodded to Hosko, and he tossed her the briefcase. She clicked it open, and Gil could see cash. More than he’d ever seen.

“Is this… payment?” he struggled to ask without his missing teeth.

“This is your allowance. Twenty-thousand American dollars per month.” She said softly. She seemed resigned as if she hadn’t just broken his body. Maybe he’d just brought emotions forward she wasn’t ready to deal with, “When conducting business, you use this money only. Beyond that, don’t run out too quickly and use it as you see fit.” Arriaga approached the portal, “If you ever bring up my father again, I’ll kill you.” Then disappeared through the swirling red with her bodyguards.

Suddenly, Gil was alone with the sound of wind in the trees. He turned his head to see the statue lying in pieces. Ruined. Then it hit him—his purpose. The Howletts had made him their Bridge. In doing so and expecting him to play along, they’d also underestimated him. So, in the pool of his blood, Gil knew what he had to do. One day, he would tear the Howletts down from the inside, maybe even liberate Mankind in the process. He would destroy all of them.

“All of them.” He said.