Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Caesar the Troll Part 18

Annoncement: I am considering changing this blog (and it's URL) to be under my real name. Please give your opinion on that in the poll I have going for a few more days so I can take your thoughts into account!

Men from every side leaped out, carrying the shiny guns. Caesar moaned and fell to his knees before they had even begun shooting. The girl cried out in protests but to no avail as she was quickly caught up by her daddy running through the scene. The others kept a constant beam of hot light on Caesar, who only lay still and twitching under their shots.
After half a minute of constant bombardment the men stopped shooting, reasoning that the large creature before them would be dead. Instead they heard tiny scraps of song coming from his mouth continually, even as smoke rose from his old burns again.
They approached the king carrying a collar and a long chain. He was too weak to resist, even if he would have, as they clasped the collar about his neck latched the other end of the chain to a truck. Then they tested to make sure the collar worked, and Caesar felt all over his body a super-intense version of what he felt when he pressed the bars together in his catacombs.
The truck started, kicking out the smell that the king both liked and hated. The king was too weak to stand and walk, so the truck dragged him over the rocks and through the streets, over the bridge, and into the heart of the survival camp. There they found an old train car, built like a flat-bed except with a steel cage over its top. They picked up the limp body of Caesar in a crane and dropped him into the cage. They were saying that they wondered of what he was made.

They kept Caesar in prison for eleven days, during which he recovered sufficiently from his burns to stand, though he had not the heart to. Once the girl came to visit him, weeping and sobbing. She grabbed at the bars and yanked as hard as she could, hoping Caesar would do the same. Instead Caesar reached out of the cage with one finger, which was almost to thick to fit between the closely-spaced bars, and touched her on the forehead. He looked at her, his expression showing that he could not break out from here, and that she should neither worry nor fear. Before she could respond her daddy came and snatched her away, afraid of what that beast must have done to her mind.
One more day Caesar sat in sad silence. His cage was set within close sight of the bridge, almost able to see where he had been captured. He ever looked that way, towards the dawning of the sun. Early in the wee hours of the morning on the third day, he heard cries of alarm. Then a siren and the hum of those guns. He curled up in his cell, hiding his face and most tender hands. Then he heard the feet go running by, and the hum the charged guns made, and they did not shoot at him.
He looked and saw  most terrible sight.
Rolling through the streets on the other side of the bridge were massive machines, with two bright eyes and nose on the top that spun and shot out flames. And men, many of them, charging through the streets. And then that awful banner, the one he had destroyed, but a newer and larger one.
Caesar watched as many people began to try to run across the bridge, but as soon as they were out of cover the bright-eyed machine would spit fire on them.
Caesar stood up.
The girl's mommy was running at his cage, looking to see where her girl was, but she was not there.
Caesar looked around desperately. She had to be safe.
The people didn't know how to use their guns, and the renegades kept coming.
Caesar grabbed the bars of his cage.
An explosion shook Caesar's train car as small bombs were launched over the river.
Then with a mighty surge, Caesar ripped out the bars of his cage. One by one he tore them out, and the last two he smashed with his fist to bend out of the way. Then he took up a long bar of steel in each hand, and charged out.


  1. This is perfect! And by that I mean it's wonderfully satisfying for the reader. Brilliant twist!

    I love the emotion of the first half of the scene. I really feel for Caesar... well-captured! I love things like that.

  2. So what is the one thing that she could hold in her hand that would keep her safe ?

    1. In this draft it's a Bible, though deliberately not overtly stated. That little bit is slated for removal when I do the revisions for this story. The plan is to include it among many other short stories exploring similar themes in a package.