Bradbury County
By Rob Shelsky

Illustrated by Michael Doig

h, Mr. De Vinge, you’ve come.” A silhouetted figure spoke. “I’m so glad you could attend our little party.”

Phillip squinted, raised a hesitant hand to shield his eyes against the blinding light pouring out of the doorway. So long did he pause, that a growing crowd of newcomers gathered behind him.

“Please, won’t you come in?” The dark form stepped to one side.

Now by the pallid exterior lighting, Phillip recognized the chiseled profile, the coldly aristocratic demeanor. He had seen that face often enough on the news in his homeland, the Independent State of Bradbury County. This man was the bane of its existence, being none other than Ray Brunner, Chief Commissioner of rival Clarke County, and author of its charter. Before Phillip could say anything, the Commissioner took him by the elbow. He steered him gently across the threshold. Like a timid bride on her wedding night, Phillip allowed the man to guide him.

The doorway now acted like a spillway, releasing a pent-up flood of humanity. The mob, a sumptuous river of fashionable excess, surged forward, a living torrent streaming into the mansion.

“I’m Commissioner Brunner,” the taller man said, now unnecessarily. The two of them stood to one side, out of the way of the flowing multitude. “And you are Mr. Phillip De Vinge, are you not?”

“Yes, I’m Phillip.”

“You’ve arrived in good time. Many of the early guests have already gathered out back in the gardens. Would you care to join them?”

“Uh… fine.” Phillip managed a tentative nod.

The Commissioner’s steely eyes seemed to impale Phillip’s blue ones as he said, “Excellent, but first let’s get you a drink to relax you after your long ride here.”

The Commissioner signed to a servant who had been standing nearby, and said, “Stephen, you tell Grendon to page Gerald. He is to attend to Mr. De Vinge at all times. I want him to have anything he wants. Then get him a drink. Understood?”

The man gave an obsequious nod and departed.

With his hand on one of Phillip’s narrow shoulders, the Commissioner maneuvered him out of the crowded foyer. As he went, Phillip’s escort smiled and nodded to various people.

“Good evening, Dr. Keller, Mr. Bloch.” The Commissioner dipped his head in a brief acknowledgment of each of them. “Having a good time?” He grinned as the other two smiled broadly in return.

He turned to the woman standing near them. Dressed in a green gown of brocade, one bordered with a sea-foam froth of ruffled satin, she had red-pouting lips and crystal eyes. The gleaming diamonds dusting her elaborate hairdo complemented them.

“Mary Elizabeth, you’re a Councilman now, aren’t you? Good for you!” Brunner added this in a hearty voice that nevertheless sounded false. “Welcome aboard. I think you’ll find it very rewarding.”

“Indeed,” she said, giving a curt nod as she spoke. “We’ll see.” She gave Phillip a casual, almost dismissive glance, before her restless eyes moved on.

Now Phillip and the Commissioner continued their journey, threading a path through groups of elaborately dressed and coiffed attendees. These people seemed oblivious to their approach. However, once the two men passed them by, person after person would pause in their chatter to turn and gaze after them. Pockets of strange silence ensued.

Phillip was unaware of this. His surroundings held him entranced. The house bordered on the very brink of decadence. Framed mirrors and expensive furniture dripped with gold filigree. Imposing, larger-than-life portraits, and red-velvet draperies hung on walls throughout the place. The plush carpeting muffled the sound of their footfalls into luxurious silence.

Phillip didn’t know why he was there. A friend of a friend had obtained an invitation for him. At least, that’s what the scribbled note in the card had said. As so often in life, that simple answer only now seemed deficient. What friend or acquaintance did he have that had such infamous and powerful connections as these? Just who had sent him the invitation?

Still, just for this one night, Phillip could do without answers. He was as an innocent, a child who approaches fire for the first time, beguiled by it. Like flickering flames in the darkest night, this place held him spellbound.

As the Commissioner and Phillip walked, the disappearing servant reappeared behind them. He bore an ebony tray with a silver chalice upon it. He hurried to overtake the two. As if prescient, and without turning around, Commissioner Brunner halted, waiting. He took the cup, passed it to Phillip.

“There,” he said, “Go ahead. Drink it.” He waved a dismissive hand at the waiter. “Go on,” he urged when he saw Phillip still procrastinating. “You’ll like it.”

Murmuring his appreciation, Phillip brought the chalice to his lips. It felt cold. The exterior of the argent cup had a mist of condensation. He tasted the blood-red contents. It was pungent and had saltiness to its flavor.

“Like it?” The Commissioner had an expectant expression.

“It’s different.”

“Spoken like a true diplomat!” He slapped Phillip on the back.

This almost made him choke, since Phillip was just taking another swallow. They continued on their way with Phillip taking small sips from his drink as they walked. He found he liked its soothing effects.

“Ah! Here we are,” Commissioner Brunner said.

They emerged from the rear of the house onto a vast patio that stretched away in all directions from them. The lighting was subdued. Many of the guests standing about were half-hidden in the shadows, their conversations muted, as if with an air of subtle or discrete anticipation. To the far right and left sides of the terrace, intrusive spires of dark granite formed massive barriers. Serpentine walkways, hemmed by colorful flowers, cleaved their way through those spires. The paths tempted one to explore them, or as in Phillip’s embarrassed case, to hide inside their anonymity-promising confines.

Semicircular rows of padded chairs occupied much of the tiled expanse. All were facing away from the house. Beyond these, on a small raised dais with a single dim floodlight trained on it, were three chairs. This arrangement struck Phillip as odd. The whole design was like that of a theater. Yet the patio did not end at its far edge with a stage, but rather with a sheer drop-off. The estate perched on the edge of a high cliff.

Beyond that precipice, in the lingering light of the setting sun, was a panoramic view of a low valley. It was hazy-purple with distance and air pollution. A city lay there. Its lights twinkled against the darkening summer sky. They bespoke of a large population. Beyond the metropolis, forming a recumbent backdrop on the far horizon was a tall range of mountains, now just a featureless black outline against the dying scarlet of sunset.

“Recognize it?”

“It’s Bradbury County, sir.”

“Seeing it from a different vantage point for a change, eh? Your county is much in our thoughts of late.” The Commissioner’s voice held a somber note. “Your population pressures are seen by many of us, I’m afraid, as a very real danger. That and the pollution it causes. Like it or not, it does affect us here.”

Phillip nodded wordless agreement, at a loss as to what to say.

Adopting a more cheerful tone, the Commissioner added, “Never mind. Finish your drink. I’ll have to leave you for a short time, I’m afraid. Press of business and all that. But, you’re to sit with my niece, JoAnn, and me.” He waved a negligent hand indicating the three chairs on the platform. “You’re our guest of honor. And don’t worry; I’ll be back before the shower.”

“Shower?”

“Did I hear someone mention my name a moment ago?” A soft voice issued from the deepest shadows near the stone barriers.

She appeared like a goddess of the night, materializing from the dark, dressed in flowing white. She glided across the terracotta tiles with liquid grace. Her beauty struck Phillip like a physical blow. He downed the rest of his drink in a quick swallow.

“JoAnn! I wondered where you’d gotten to.” The Commissioner smiled a greeting. “Allow me to introduce our guest of honor, Mr. Phillip De Vinge. Phillip, this is my niece, the Lady JoAnn Brunner.”

“How… how do you do?” It was the best Phillip could manage.

“No,” she said. A winsome smile dimpled her smooth cheeks. “The question is, Mr. De Vinge, how are you doing? We’re so glad you could make it tonight. We were all counting on it.”

“You were? I don’t quite understand. I --”

“Don’t bother about that now, my boy,” the Commissioner said, interrupting him. “JoAnn, see that he enjoys himself.”

“Is that an order, Uncle Ray?”

“It is, indeed. See that you carry it out.” The Commissioner grinned, but there was an icy glint in the depths of his gray eyes. “Treat him well. He must be relaxed.”

“I’m yours to command.” JoAnn executed a mocking bow that caused blonde tresses to cascade over her shoulders in a golden waterfall.

The Commissioner turned to Phillip. “Will you excuse me?” he asked.

Phillip nodded.

JoAnn said, “For now.”

“For now,” her uncle agreed. He strode off toward the mansion.

JoAnn turned to Phillip. Gemstone blue eyes regarded him with a lively interest. “Well now, Mr. De Vinge,” she said. “Your drink is gone. I’ll get you another.”

“Oh, I don’t -–”

“Come now, Mr. De Vinge. You’ve heard my orders. I’m to see that you relax. You wouldn’t want me to have to face my uncle and tell him I’ve failed in that?”

“I suppose not.” Phillip felt captivated by her beauty. A faint breeze blew across them just then, hinting of the nutmeg scent of star jasmines, of possible romance, of love.

“No, of course, you wouldn’t.” She motioned to a hovering waiter dressed in livery.

The man moved to their side and gave a subservient bob of his head. “Milady?”

“Gerald, bring Mr. De Vinge another Oblata. Mind you, none of that fizzy stuff for him, only the best. And hurry.”

“Certainly, milady.” The man bowed again and moved off, weaving his way through the ever-increasing horde of partygoers.

JoAnn’s attention now seemed to stray to these other participants. Not knowing what to say or do, Phillip also pretended an interest in the surrounding crowd that he did not feel. Awkward moments stretched like uncomfortable hours for him this way.

The returning waiter acted as a much-needed distraction. The man presented a fresh drink. JoAnn took the beverage, held it out to Phillip. “There you are,” she said. “That’s better.”

He set his empty cup on the proffered tray as he took the fresh one from her. This drink had the same sanguine color as the first. He raised the silver chalice and sniffed its contents. The beverage had no discernible aroma. He took a sip. The drink’s pungency seemed to have lessened. It slid over his tongue like velvet, coursing like silk down his throat. JoAnn watched Phillip with an amused expression. Then she gave a small nod to the servant. He bowed again and departed.

“Like it?” She studied Phillip’s face as she asked the question.

“It’s very good.” Phillip surprised himself by meaning it. “What do you call it again?”

“Oblata; we only have it on special occasions. It’s hideously expensive.” Changing the subject, JoAnn added, “Now, you must circulate and meet as many people as you can. It’s rather pro forma for these functions, you know.”

“Is it?”

“Most certainly, darling. Oh, look, there’s Ramsey and Campbell. You’ll love them. And see Algernon over there, the balding man with the patrician-looking nose?” She pointed toward a brooding figure standing alone near one of the flowerbeds. “He’s very friendly actually, but don’t ever make him angry. He can be nastier than an Egyptian hornet sometimes. But he’s quite famous, you know. They all are, and they’re such good friends of mine.” JoAnn’s voice held a smug note. She took Phillip by his free hand, and tugged him toward her two closest compatriots.

After that, things began to blur for Phillip. He met person after person and whole groups at a time. Smiles, polite questions, and cheerful remarks surged in a cataract of conversations over him. Phillip found he felt at home with these people. He liked them. More importantly, he liked being there with them. There was no hint here of the endless drudgery, the drab existence that was life in his county, no sign of the eternal toil just to make ends meet. Here, they had wealth to spare. Was it any wonder that Phillip and his downtrodden fellow citizens regarded these elegant neighbors with such envy?

They plied him with wonderful foodstuffs. He sampled items from various trays borne by a host of circulating servants. There were appetizers that were honey-treacle sweet. Others burned the tongue, spicy and hot. He tried a flaky savory. It had a bitter taste, as of herbs and unleavened bread.

Waiters replaced his emptied chalices with brimming ones. Phillip downed each with less hesitation. The effect of the drink was not intoxicating, but euphoric. Waves of delight rolled over him. Lights seemed softer, music louder, but not intrusive. JoAnn was always at his side. She seemed more effusive, warm, and wonderful than any girl he’d ever met. It was as if she breathed true love to him.

During periods of decreasing lucidity, he wondered about the “shower” often spoken of by many of the party’s attendees. Phillip never seemed to have the chance to ask about it. It was as if everyone but he knew. Not wanting to play the ignorant bumpkin, he would smile and give a knowing nod when people spoke of it. Sometimes, when he did this, he’d catch a strange look of gratification pass between the person he was talking with and JoAnn, as if they shared some mutual secret to their advantage. Phillip didn’t care. Tonight was his. Tomorrow would provide explanations soon enough.

The only negative side effect to the Oblata was that Phillip had difficulty in hiding his emotions. They seemed to effervesce, bubble to the surface. Almost, he could feel them mirrored in his own facial expressions. His personal feelings lay exposed plain for all to see and he couldn’t help it. Phillip wondered if JoAnn could see how much he adored her, wished to cherish her.

The Commissioner reappeared. He greeted and then guided JoAnn and Phillip through the now immense crowd milling about on the patio. He helped them up the steps to the dais and then motioned for the two to seat themselves. Then turning to the mass of people standing about the terrace, he waited for their silence. He made no obvious gestures to obtain it. Still, they quieted within seconds.

Chief Commissioner Brunner gazed out over his constituents. He smiled. “Good evening, one, and all.” His voice carried easily to all of those listening. “I’m delighted you could all be here for this singular event. Of course, I know that most of you wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

The response was a satisfying ripple of laughter.

The Commissioner allowed it to continue for a moment before interrupting it by saying, “I know most of you have attended many of my functions before, but I do believe you’ll find this one to be the most gratifying. Tonight, my friends, we embark on a new age, one with many old problems wiped away! We will have a new vision of our future and without any fears to mar it. You all know what tonight means to us, I’m sure?” He winked at them.

For this inside joke, the crowd showed their appreciation with another wave of delicate laughter.

When it had died away, the Commissioner added, “Now in line with this evening’s entertainment, and for the sake of any of you who may not yet have had the opportunity of meeting him, I’d like to introduce our guest of honor. Everyone, please welcome our special witness from Bradbury County, Mr. Phillip De Vinge!” He motioned for Phillip to rise.

There was an outburst of applause and cheering. Although reluctant, Phillip stood. He gazed out over the vast sea of faces. Perhaps because of the elation he was feeling, Phillip smiled and waved at them. This produced a fresh accolade. Flushed with his own notoriety, Phillip finally sat.

The Commissioner raised his hands for quiet. “I hate to call a halt to this,” he said. “But the shower is due to start. Our technicians have put a lot of hard work into this and over a very long period. We wouldn’t want to miss the results. So, please take your seats.”

Amid the rustling of expensive clothing, the flurry of divested satin capes, and murmured conversations, the guests seated themselves. An expanding pool of silence spread over the assemblage. Minutes ticked by, but they all remained serene, quiescent. Unlike them, Phillip grew restless. What exactly was going on, he wondered?

Lights extinguished. Only the one floodlight directly over them remained lit. Now Phillip imagined he could feel that larger audience’s air of eager anticipation. It felt suddenly palpable; a hungry thing crouched in the gloom behind him. He ventured to whisper a question to JoAnn, but before he could voice it, she touched his arm and put a finger to her lips in a hushing gesture. So admonished, he remained quiet.

Now questions began to plague Phillip’s mind. Exactly why was he, a mere white-collar worker, an anonymous nobody amongst millions in the neighboring county, the guest of honor here? Again, who had invited him? Why? Above all, why was everyone staring out over the distant valley of his own Bradbury County?

He saw winking lights of his home megalopolis with its burgeoning and endless-seeming suburbs.

It’s prettier at night, he thought. One did not see the excesses of population and pollution. Here, he was too far away to hear the constant cacophony of people and thrum of machines. Nor at this aloof distance could one smell the stink of heavy industry belching forth chemicals in a vain attempt to meet the voracious demands of too many people. Any traces of such odors lay hidden under the sweet scent of white star jasmine that perfumed the night air here.

JoAnn raised her arm and pointed. He looked to where she indicated, toward the dark silhouettes of the distant mountains. In swift traces of light, a trio of shooting stars darted across the night sky. They plunged into oblivion, engulfed by the blackness of those far off summits.

“It’s started.” The Commissioner wore a feline, almost feral expression as he spoke.

Phillip watched. More shooting stars blazed tiny but flaming paths. JoAnn nudged him to get his attention. She passed him a full chalice of Oblata. Where she had obtained it from, Phillip couldn’t have guessed, his focus having been on that distant portion of the heavens. He accepted the beverage without comment. He sipped it. It did not occur to Phillip to wonder why he was the only one still drinking.

All was quiet again. No shooting stars streaked the firmament. There was just the steady hard twinkle of ancient constellations. Then, a massive flurry of white sparks shot across the sky.

“Ah,” Phillip moaned in wonder. The crowd echoed him.

More shooting stars arced across the blackness, bigger and brighter than before. They blazed red as they split the velvet darkness, splashing across the blue-black bowl of heaven. This was to the continuous approval of the audience who “oohed” and “ahhed” at the pyrotechnic display.

Comprehension struck Phillip. Now he knew what they meant by a “shower.” Of course, it was a meteor shower. He leaned forward in his seat to escape the brilliance of the overhead floodlight, to obtain a better view. JoAnn, none too politely, pushed him back into his chair with the back of her arm. This startled him, but he complied.

There was another strange absence of the falling stars. Nothing flamed now. A silence drifted over the assembly. This time, Phillip felt it held a tension to it.

He glanced over his shoulder. It was difficult to make anyone out in the darker recesses, but to his surprise, more than half the crowd appeared to be watching him rather than the shower. Rows of hooded eyes glittered at him. Was it a trick of the light, or just his imagination? No. There was no doubt. They were staring directly at him.

“Well, they’ve been warned.” Distracted by this comment, Phillip turned back toward the Commissioner.

“An act of God appropriately heralded.” JoAnn’s voice rang out with triumph. “You’re right, Uncle Ray. None can say we didn’t warn them. We’ve abided by the Tribunal’s inter-county formalities. None dare claim otherwise.”

Phillip spun around in his seat to gape at her, wondering what she meant. He was about to ask when there came a low hissing sound. It grew louder, rising in volume and pitch. It dragged Phillip’s attention skyward. He raised his eyes toward the zenith of the night.

He stared in stark disbelief. Now the darkness was alive with a veritable horde of vengeful fireballs. No mere shooting stars these, but rather an invading host of consuming hellfire and wrath. The noise came from them. They descended in luminous fury. Fiery spears of streaking vengeance, they blazed with a strange spectral beauty as they dived toward the city.

They hit! The strikes were silent at first, just visual displays. Then, delayed by distance, rolling waves of thunderous sound tumbled over those watching the horrendous exhibition. Blasts of punishing noise rocked Phillip in his chair. Yet, he stared. Flames spiraled upward in geysers from the valley below, spewing black-on-black oily clouds of billowing debris.

He saw strands of white lights, pathetic strings of electric pearls, coursing through the city. They were moving in thin lines out of the doomed metropolis. Phillip realized panic had hit his homeland. Some of the inhabitants had seen the full extent of their danger. They were attempting to escape. The lights were those of countless fleeing vehicles.

Down came the ruin of the Commissioner’s rage upon the valley. Distant impacts ignited forests near the base of the far mountains. All over, dark pyres of smoke bloomed around thin columns of dancing flame.

“No!” Phillip leapt to his feet. “No!” He started forward, toward the edge of the platform. Before he could descend the first step, Chief Commissioner Brunner lunged, grabbed him by the arm, and jerked him back into his seat. Phillip struggled. He attempted to fend off the restraining grip of the much bigger man. It was no use. The Commissioner was too strong.

Then there came a deafening roar. It drowned all else in its stentorian intensity. Phillip ceased his struggles. He stared upward, waiting. What else could he do?

Everything vibrated. A deep sub-aural sound resonated within the very rock of the hillside upon which they congregated. It was all consuming in its condemnation of other noise. The cause made its appearance. Like a rip in the very heavens, a tear in the fabric of the universe, the furious beast burst forth. A mighty orb of incandescence, it created a false sunrise with its lurid glow. The monster bathed the house in bloody reflection, igniting all with a baleful red light. The spires of rock that guarded the edges of the terrace cast spear-like shadows of a rose hue.

Phillip had a fleeting glimpse at the city sprawled in its valley, already pitted and devastated by gloaming craters. So massive was the city’s size and population that many lights still showed, headlights of refugee vehicles. They clogged every highway in a hopeless effort to get away. Phillip saw all this in just one instant, one brief flash of agony.

Then it was gone, seared away by an awful glare. Everything turned black and white. The people all around him stood out, as if frozen in the flash from a very powerful camera. Bright spots dazzled Phillip’s eyes.

Tremendous gouts of yellow-orange flame plumed upward in the valley, insupportable columns of satanic fury. They blotted out the city, rolled over the pathetic little streams of cars. Like a tsunami, the fire consumed everything in its path.

A violent shock wave lifted the terrace, the gathered people, and even the mansion itself. A wall of hot air struck. A sonic boom cracked. Its sharp blast pierced Phillip’s ears. Hairline fissures split and lanced across the tiles of the patio floor. It was just as if some giant fist had smashed down upon it.

Then it was over. The earth steadied. The sound rumbled on by, a distant echo of rolling thunder. Hot wind whipped away, leaving all in profound silence. Of the metropolis and its inhabitants only a dirty black column of smoke, a funeral pall of ash and debris, remained. Fires no longer glowed. So complete was the catastrophe there was nothing left to burn.

Commissioner Brunner stood. He glanced at the damaged tile work, shook his head, and then grinned. “I think our spatial technicians might have been just a bit overzealous,” he joked.

Phillip stared up at him. His eyes were wide, uncomprehending.

“Why?” He moaned it. Phillip struggled to his feet, the very act a torture for him. He turned his pleading stare from the uncaring Commissioner to the audience. What Phillip saw there sickened him. All about him, all the guests, servants, everybody, were staring back at him with avid fascination. Countless animal eyes had no target for anything, but him. There was not a single redeeming glance left for the foul destruction visited upon the innocent souls in the valley below them.

“Why?” Phillip cried out. He gazed in despair at that sea of lust-bloated faces. He felt raped, defiled, by those stares. They were alike now, all wearing a bestial expression of decadent fulfillment.

Phillip turned from that debauched sight. He rounded upon the beautiful JoAnn. There was neither comfort nor solace from that quarter. Her face, just like all the others, reflected the same disgusting satisfaction. Glazed eyes of turquoise gazed up at him. She licked her luscious lips, as if lapping at the last few drops of a seminal depravity.

“Why me?” He whispered the question. A tear coursed down his left cheek. It glistened there, a Pierrot-like silver streak. “Why bring me to your show? Was it necessary?” he begged. “Did you have to?” he screamed.

JoAnn watched him from behind heavy-lidded eyes. She wore a wet smile. “Here, Phillip,” she said. “Have some more Oblata. You seem to like it so.” She held up the silver chalice to him.

“Oh,” she added, as if just remembering something. “Did I forget to mention what the name means? It comes from the old Latin. That’s a very ancient language, you know. Oblata; it means sacrifice.” She gave him a knowing smile.

Phillip stared at her. He made no move to take the drink.

“You still don’t understand do you, Phillip?” JoAnn almost purred it. “Not even now, after all of this? What an innocent you truly are. The Committee’s lottery couldn’t have picked a better victim.”

She smiled again and said, “You see, that out there wasn’t it, darling. That was just a necessary expedient. Your people were becoming a dreadful nuisance. I’m afraid they really had to go.”

Then she smiled one last, lazy, almost catlike smile at him before adding, “Let me spell it out for you then, Phillip. For people with, shall we say such rarefied and refined tastes as ours, that couldn’t provide the entertainment we needed. That wasn’t the real show. Phillip… you were.”

Phillip’s face twitched terribly. The muscles there rippled in undulating waves, as if some horror crawled about beneath his skin. His eyes rolled upwards until only the whites showed. His mouth opened wide, contorting his features into a Munch-like caricature. The shriek Phillip then uttered at this last and ultimate violation of his soul echoed out over the terrace, out over the hills, and into the smoking distance. It sounded the death knell of his people, their hopes, their lives, their Bradbury County.

Phillip stood, a dark figure with arms outstretched, an isolated individual amidst a crowd. That didn’t matter to him now. Nothing did or would ever again. For that scream had also echoed the shattering of his mind. Phillip wandered now, alone and lost, trapped deep inside a maze of the lunatic universe of his own devastated reason.

Discuss this story in our forums