Death Wagon 37

Death Wagon 37

Working our way towards Nobel I answer as many questions as Lacey informs me about the institute. It houses the best medical minds in the world. It is true neutral ground, in the past one could literally walk into the building and do research or talk to these geniuses of medicine science. They catalogued all the medical knowledge and protocol in recorded history. I knew all this already, but just hearing again made me feel very small with my own knowledge of the medical field.

Billy made a ‘jacking off’ motion as I went on in awe about Nobel. “If those bastards are so helpful, why didn’t they grant you the loan to learn on the campus? Your scores for entry were up there from what you tell me. They gave you a pat on the head, and sent you on your way.”

Letting a sigh out, I shrug heavily. “I was born with L7. That automatically makes me a class five citizen. Then catching HEP-Z made me a one. They wouldn’t touch me.”

The mention of the HEP-Z tenses Billy. I let curiosity get the better of me. “Something on your mind, Billy?” I ask.

A fist flies into my face in reply, and Billy plasters himself against the passenger door. “You are dick!”

Stars swim in front of my eyes as I hold my jaw. “What?”

Billy, fumes. “What the hell man? You didn’t want to tell me in person?”

Clearing the cobwebs, I keep my free arm up defensively. “About what?”

Lacey holds Torq back from interfering. Billy looks more hurt than I feel. “About the shot, how you can’t afford it. You put on this brave face like everything is ok, when in what? Less than a day you are going to try and eat my face?”

“Kat told you?” I ask and Billy swoops in punching me in the ear. Jerking back in the seat I shout. “What was that one for?”

Billy’s features cascade to appall now, “You told Kat before me? You double dick!”

I snap glaring towards my best friend. “I just couldn’t do it anymore. Eight years! Eight long years of housing this thing in me. Thirty nine years of Aegis shots, that is hell. On over half of them I could never afford for them to put me out when they did the procedure!”

Billy’s face pales, stunned at the news. His throat lumps, “I get my shot a month before you. You mean all those times I had to borrow credits to pay for the sedatives from you…”

I jut my chin out defiantly. “A few times, yeah. Not every time.” I can feel my anger fading into exhaustion already.

Billy wipes at his eyes, “Why would you do that? For me?”

Turning my gaze to the steering wheel, I lower my hands. “Because you are cre- my friend. The best friend I have.”

He looks out the window away from me, “You are still a dick.” He mutters bitterly.

Shifting my jaw I turn the wheel guiding the ambulance down the street. “So if Kat didn’t tell you, who did?”

Billy clears his throat, “I…I…uh hacked your account a while back. Since you started acting all weird.”

“Now who is the dick?” I say sarcastically.

“Hey! You knew what kind of person I was when I signed on. What I do shouldn’t be a surprise.” Billy retorts.

“Touché.”

******* *********** ************* *********

Driving for another two hours, I get that itching feeling we are being followed. Periodically a patrol car would cross our path or come up behind the rig. In turn they would trail us a ways and then pull away as if not to spook us just yet.

Billy rubs his eyes, having been staring at the data pads and occasionally mumbling. “Nothing. I got nothing. They got that system locked tight. I can access their protocols as that are public record but anything concerning getting in there is a no go. We’d have to have clearance we just don’t have.”

Lacey and Torq shared another pad, reading through whatever they had gotten a hold of. Kat rotated the turret now and then letting me know she was still active. “We are still about twenty minutes out from Nobel, we need a way in. Does anyone have anything?” I ask not really expecting a response.

“I think I found something, Suture.” Lacey said stifling a yawn.

Noting another patrol car tailing us, this one was being a bit bolder than the others. “What is it, Lacey?” I ask, as the vehicle pulls within scanning range behind the ambulance.

“Nobel is an institute for medical practice and of course education.”

Billy cuts in, “We already know that.”

“Stop cutting me off, you ass.” Lacey glowers at the navigator before continuing. “As I was saying it is a place for education. It also functions as a medical facility during emergencies.”

This perks my interest, “What kind of emergencies?” this was so simple it made me feel foolish for over thinking the problem.

“Any. They are bound by the laws of the United Nations. They cannot bar access to those in distress.”

Billy gives a short laugh, “The United Nations? That joke died nearly ninety years ago.”

Ignoring him I wince as the patrol car hits it lights signaling for us to pull over. “What is the status of that law? Oh by the way, we have company.”

Lacey scratches the stubble on her head. “It says the law is still in place.”

Instead of pulling over I punch the lights and sirens, accelerating the rig. I nod towards Billy a grin springing to my lips, “You heard the lady, pipe that in to Nobel!”

The officer did not take us not heeding the request to stop very well. Buzzing angrily behind the rig ineffectively, I could see it had no visible weapons. He was just making a lot of noise. Billy looks back towards the pursing car, “What is he doing? He has no back up.”

Squinting, Billy continues, “He is not even on the comm. He is just driving like an idiot.”

I figure we don’t have time for this, “Kat…junk his tires and let’s lose him.” I say, growing irritate at the noise of the patrol car’s shrill siren.

Taking a sharp turn, watching civilian vehicles get out of the way. Blue clad citizens scattering or stopping on the sidewalk to watch Death Wagon roar by. A frown reaches my lips as I fail to hear the thundering chug of Kat’s machine guns. “Kat? What’s the hold up?”

Torq speaks up, “She says he is not a problem, she has…convinced him to help us. He is an escort. She also says we have to hurry she can’t hold onto him for much longer.”

For once I am grateful at how powerful Kat’s abilities were becoming. Billy distracts me as he clamps a hand over his mouth to stop from laughing. Blacking out the screen on the data pad he snorts and composes himself. “What now?” I ask pulling Death Wagon back on course towards Nobel.

Billy just shakes his head, “You are not going to believe this. Ready?” Before I can nod he flicks the screen back on. A yawning freckle faced of a boy that couldn’t be over thirteen blinks blearily on the pad.

“Junior archive administrator Icarus Hill speaking. Why have you activated emergency protocol…” He glances away to obviously read something. “United Nations one, clause sixty seven?”

The red glow of Nobel looms ahead as I push the accelerator, traffic parting to make way and the shrill of the patrol car wailing behind us. Billy chews his lip. He does this when he about to give someone the truth.

“Well we have an emergency obviously, Junior.”

Nonplused the kid yawns again, “That is Junior Archive Administrator to you, sir. Who are you anyways, and what is the nature of the emergency?”

Billy holds up his hands, “Well excuse me, Junior Archive Administrator Icarus Hill. We actually have more than one emergency. My driver needs an Aegis shot in less than sixteen hours. We also got a member of the Martian royal family that has a head injury, and oh yeah, we have a woman with an active immunity system. That enough of an emergency for you?”

The kid doesn’t seem to take it in, “I can route you to the nearest clinic. The closest Mars embassy is…wait…what? You are making a claim that you have someone with an actual active immunity system?” Ah, the hamster in the kid’s head was waking up…

Billy smiles and puts on the charm, “That’s right, all that and a bag of soy chips. Tell me something ki- Junior Administrator, Icarus. What did you do to land the duty of monitoring these ancient back channels?”

The kid shifts nervously, “Nothing. All junior administrators have to take on this duty for a short time.”

Billy chuckles, “Rrrriiiggghhhttt. What you do, kiss the wrong girl? Steal some rations?”

Shaking his head the kid huffed, “It was nothing like that.”

“Oh, so it was something.”

Glaring from the pad the kid, finally gave in. “I wasn’t ready for the spectral anatomy test, so I quarantined the classroom. I needed more time to study.”

Billy laughs and even I smile. “Icarus I would have done the same thing. Look we are right on top of the building; we need a bay to pull into.”

The kid wipes an eye, “I don’t have clearance to let you in.”

Billy cocks a brow, “But you don’t have the clearance to keep us out either.”

The screen splits as another face appears yawning, with wise doe eyes wiping away sleep. “Icarus, who you talking to? It is nearly four in the morning.”

Billy jumps in before Icarus, “My name is Billy, and we have an emergency situation. Icarus here was about to let us in. So what bay, Icarus?”

Icarus winces, “I told you I don’t have the clearance to do that. Go back to sleep, Tesla. I’m sorry we can’t help you and I am not going to wake up the Senior administrators.”

Tesla apparently had other ideas, “Bay one zero one. I can see you already on the camera. Where you from?”

I grin as I angle Death Wagon towards a roll door that lights up and begins to open. “We’re from Stratus City, and thank you, Tesla.” Billy sets the pad down as the rig rolls into the open bay.

********* ********** ********* *********** *********
I shut down the engine and turn to see the patrol car pull in behind us. Looks like Kat finally lost her control on the officer, as he swings the door open and crouched behind it pistol drawn. Billy pulls his sidearm and calls to the patrolman. “Look pal, I don’t want to hurt you. We have wounded here.”

The door on the left side of the bay opens and a small gang of six kids barely in their teens rushes into the room with a gurney, lead by Tesla. The officer lines up his shot and pulls the trigger. Nothing. Billy flinches, and tries his own gun. Nothing.

“What gives? The trigger is stuck!” Billy cocks the slide on his firearm, and fumes. “What the hell?!?”

Icarus runs in after the gaggle of children, “We are going to get into so much trouble for this!”

Tesla views the scene and waves the others towards the rig ignoring the attempted gun battle. “You might as well put the guns away they don’t work here. All firearms are chipped they don’t work in the building. Nobel is a place of absolute neutrality. If you really want to, you can take it outside.”

The officer grabs his radio yelling for backup half way through his request he slumps down, radio clattering from his hand. I glance back as Kat nearly falls from the turret stirrups. Blood coursing from her nostrils, her eyes flutter shut. Panic fills my chest as Torq moves to steady her.

Getting Kat on the gurney the kids immediately start hooking her to oxygen and data readers. Tesla looks to me, “Icarus filled me in on the injuries vaguely. What is her status, know afflictions.”

Baffled, I ramble out what Telsa requests of me. “Where are the adults? You are just a bunch of kids.” Billy states just as confused as I am.

Tesla motions for the gurney to be taken away, and sets her hands on her hips. Torq goes with Kat, not letting go of her hand.

Looking paradoxically tough Tesla juts out her chin towards Billy. “They are sleeping and have other things to do. We are ALL qualified to handle the nature of these emergencies. Save for your friend’s Aegis shot. Now, if you want to see my qualifications I will take you to the nearest chip reader and you can read all eight pages of it.”

I have never seen Billy put in his place so neatly, and it is my turn to keep from laughing. Billy crosses his arms in defeat, “Fine. Do your thing.”

Tesla snaps her heels and turns away from Billy, having another crew check on the fallen officer. They report the officer is unconscious. Light bruising on the neck but no other damage, the new crew hoists and wheels him away.

Sticking with Tesla and Icarus, I motion for Lacey. Tesla is deep in her game, “What afflictions do you have, ma’am?” she asks with practiced poise.

Lacey shrugs, “According to my companions I don’t have any.” Icarus, shakes his head and pulls out a bio scanner. “Everyone has something.”

After a few waves of the scanner, Icarus pales. Telsa looks over at the readout. “That is not possible, Miss…”

Lacey sighs, “My name is Lacey. Lacey Peterson.”

Tesla pulls her own bio scanner, “Nothing on the spectrum, nothing at all. I’m running the whole range.” Glancing up Tesla, steps back utterly amazed. “Would you mind submitting some tissue samples?”

Lacey chuckles bitterly, “I thought you’d never ask.”

******* ******** ********* **************

Necrostatic 2

Exiting the public restroom, I nearly run into a pair of Reno police officers as they troop a handcuffed woman in white between them. Medium height, her hair so blonde it appeared to be silver. She didn’t leave? Some people have no sense. She had to know I was up to something. Maybe she didn’t factor in the mundane…that happened from time to time. No, she was up to some sort of shenanigans.

Those icy blues met my gaping black pits; she was studying the hell out of me. I watched her brief look flit through at least three different types of vision, in a fraction of a few seconds. Her aura was reaching out to mingle with mine, which I casually dissuaded with a snap of my fingers, getting a venomous look for the effort. Perhaps I was the first Reaper she encountered, but that un-cheery spark between us told me this would not be the only time we would meet. Likely she would tell all her Hermit friends about me…

One of the officers stopped dead as he happened to glance at the ground and shifted to look right at me. Following the officer’s look, I winced. My shadow! It still looked like the classic Grim Reaper, scythe included. Forcing it down and back to normal I smiled, albeit cheekily at the officer. “Nice day, officer. Glad to see you…are…uh…doing your job.” I spotted the reason the lady was in cuffs. Tucked under the officers belt was a wicked looking boline. White ivory handle, and its curved blade made of cold hammered copper and it looked obnoxiously sharp. The officer grunted and dismissed what he thought he saw and resumed wrangling the eerily lady in white.

With the officers departing, I walked to the car, not even bothering to wave to the kid as he appeared busy with another pair of authority type adults. Reaching a car I find a sparrow waiting for me on the roof. Sparrows are messengers for death, so I give a quick whispered report and open the door. The bird takes off and I settle in behind the wheel. Tapping the steering wheel I sigh, “I hate this part of the job. It is fucking crap.”

“You shouldn’t cuss so much. It is bad for the aura.” Came a female voice, startling me enough that I nearly went Reaper right then and there. Gripping the wheel I snap my head in the direction of the voice.

Seated in the passenger side was a very see through woman of shifting age. Young face, old eyes, timeless features. Dressed in stereotypical tree hugger wear, jean jacket with an over kill amount of logo pins and talismans. Tattered skirt of faded wine purple and ended with gold laced sandals, looking closely I could see she was hovering about two inches off the passenger seat. Making no apology for cursing, I grumped. “Tracey Whistler. What do you want? Better yet, how did you find me?”

Tracey became a bit more solid, which was generally a sign of proximity or confidence. It still boggled me how she was able to ‘Astral Project’. Just looking at her one would assume she took too much acid or bong hits. Her voice drifted, displaced from where it should be. “I came to see you, because, you know, that is what friends do from time to time. As for finding you, it is not hard. You give me a pen once, a link.” Mental note; retrieve pen as soon as possible.

I kind of just had to accept that I would never be rid of her and the overtures of friendship that she continuously heaped upon me. I don’t even recall how we became ‘friends’, she literally picked me out of a crowd at a party I was reaping at and started hanging out. Psychically and otherwise… Still, she was company and that was in short supply in my line of work.

Mentally I did a count down. Three…two…one… Like clockwork the questions began, pouring forth like a cheerful tidal wave. “Was it hard to stop this one? Are they alright? Got anymore assignments today? Can I go too? Are they ever going to let you be a Reaper again?”

If I had a functioning normal brain I would imagine I’d have a headache about now. I was reluctant to outright ignore Tracey. Like I said I don’t have many people to talk to. “It was tricky, like usual. Yes, they should be fine, look.”

I point out the window as the kid followed by the officers met the father halfway in the park. The father clamped his son in a hug and surely made vows never to let go. Humans are funny like that. Tracey clapped her hands, smiling. “Aww, they look so happy! You really are a good…ma-…per-…being.” Nodding her head triumphantly as she settled on her final answer of what to call me.

“Thanks.” Tracey brought up a good question. Did I have anymore assignments for today? Taking up the note pad, I flipped the page. Tracey gaped as letters began to appear on the page. “WOW! Look at that! You have to be seeing this!”

“I have seen it before yes. Happens every time there is an assignment.” I say, concentrating on the words that were forming for they would be brief and drop down to be lost in the previous writings that overlapped on the page into an unintelligible scribble.

Tracey kept on babbling, “It is like a hole opened up over the notebook and letters fell out and on to the page. How do you guys do that? Hey I know that address! That is my old high school!” Her old school? With her going on I lost the time stamp of when to be there.

Setting the notebook down with purpose I turned to the spectral Tracey. “You can’t come. The work is not for someone like you.”

Tracey blurred and came back into focus an instant later. Her voice carried a hurt tone for the first time that I could recall. “What? Why? Is it because I am a woman? I will have you know this is an age approaching equality, sir!”

“It’s not that…” I started to reply and was immediately cut off.

“Oh just admit it, Maxwell! Half the time I think your brain is stuck back when you were alive! Oooooo you anachronism! Of course you know I mean that in a good way, you just don’t know the strides that are being made and the fight we all face to bring about change.”

“Tracey…”

“No! Look, I put up with a lot from other men out there and I thought you were different.”

“Tracey…”

“I mean what is the big deal if I want to go? I will have you know-“

“Tracey!” I snap finally. That gets her attention so I can get a word in.

Her brow furrows beneath her dreadlocks. “What?”

I am about to open a door I may regret later as the words come forth. “It is not you. It is the fact there could be other Reapers there. If they see you they could mistake you for something else.”

Curious now, “Like what?” Tracey asks.

Expelling a sigh I push on, despite what my lone wolf image is telling me to stop. “Like the mighty dead. Those that have died and refused to cross over for whatever reason. A lot of Reapers are pretty old school and feel this is against the order of things. You die, you cross, then come back later to live again. It is a huge feather in their caps if a Reaper can convince one of the Mighty Dead to cross, one way or the other. I just…don’t want to see anything happen to you.”

Honestly, I didn’t know what would happen if they tried to make her cross. Supposedly astral projection was the soul leaving the body on short trips, but it didn’t feel right entirely. Tracey’s sudden hard line attitude softens, “You mean you care about me?”

“Who else am I going to talk to?”

“That’s a yes!” Tracey chirped gleefully.

******** ********* *********** *********** **************

Driving with Tracey since I really couldn’t get rid of her was interesting. She bobbed along with the car keeping pace. I tested a few theories out along the way. I took a sharp turn and watched her nearly rocket out of the car. Tracey sticks her tongue out at me while half her head jutted through the closed passenger window. A short stop and Tracey goes through the front of the dashboard. Jerking herself back she rolls her eyes. “You did that on purpose.” Yep.

Nearing the school, Tracey resumes her questions. “So how do you get those assignments? How do you know where to be?”

I shrug, “Ghosts. They give us the information.”

Tracey makes a face, “Aren’t ghosts what is left over when someone dies?”

“A ghost is an echo. Echoes go both ways, to the past and to the future. Think of it like a stone you toss into a pond, the ripples go out. We just figured out a way to read the ripples on the other side of the pond.”

Tracey appeared nearly solid, which suggested emotions controlled the focus of her projection. “How exact is it?”

Bitterly I look at the glove box that contained the notebook. “It’s not. Like I said it is like a ripple, it is an event, the when and why is often is often lost. The where lasts a lot longer. We focus on that.”

Tracey digests this and chews her lip. Shifting subjects yet again, “So how do you become a…a…uh.”

“A Reaper?” I finish the tentative question for her.

Tracey nods, “Yeah.”

“You really want to know?”

Shyly, Tracey nods looking at me expectantly.

Pulling into the parking lot of Sparks High School, I begin to hunt down a spot in the now crowded lot. “To be a Reaper, you kill one and take its place.” Hey, she asked…

Death Wagon 35

The final mountain went quickly as my fatigue gave way to something else. Excitement mingling with pure stubborn determination spurred my motions and carried through to the machine. Magnus kept vigilant watch over our movement, relaying messages to Kat who in turn told Billy, who finally keyed me in on the easiest terrain to take the VERN over.

Venting the heat as the VERN crested the mountain overlooking the sheer beauty of Nexus Prime. The city twice as massive as Stratus and looked far healthier at a distance. The city favored blue lights, calming and cold. I sat in awe as the VERN cooled; taking in the sights I had only seen on the news or in holographic postcards. Where Stratus City was a haphazard mess of roads and slapped together sectors, Nexus Prime was strictly grid like.

Spot lights combed the skies, bearing messages and logos of various advertisements I could only speculate on the context. I could pick out a few of the more famous buildings even at this distance. Moonlit Towers raised two hundred and sixty stories tall and housing over two million tenants set dead center in the city. From the ground to the pointed peak, every window was lined with blue lighting. Seven buildings shorter in stature surrounded it, massive bridges connecting them to Moonlit for stabilization due to its height.

Nexus Prime’s spaceport and its ‘L’ ramp that launched craft into orbit jutted out like a massive cannon in the city’s eastern edge. Shuttles were expensive to launch to the point where it was good luck to see one take off from the port. Near Moonlit Towers was our destination.

The Nobel Institute with its gold and red lights in a sea of blue, capped with the sterling white rod of Asclepius at the top. A sealed sanctuary where the worlds greatest medical minds toiled endlessly to combat and solve the problems of a disease ridden planet.

The chronometer on my forearm drags me away from site seeing as it chirps annoyingly. It just dipped below twenty four hours. This was my last day, but instead of regret I was filled with reckless hope. I only wish I would not make too much of a mess when I finally turned and was put down.

Magus peels off, the hover jet roaring ahead, banking left and away from the VERN. “Billy, where is our escort going?”

“He’s going to clear the road, looks like a minor blockade leading into the city. Could be Aegis.” Comes the reply over the comm.

That gave me an idea. Veering the VERN to follow Magnus, the machine’s clawed feet pile driving into the rock as the metal beast lurched. “Whoah! Suture, we just left the plotted course, what are you doing?” Billy exclaimed.

I grit my teeth, straining the control arm to compensate for the angle of decent I took the VERN upon. “I’m getting us a cover story. Tell Magnus to light them up good, lots of fire and explosions.”

The VERN lurches, tipping forward and nearly falling. The gyros worked overtime, and flashing warnings flooded the screen as the VERN began to slide. I flipped a switch that activated the emergency tow cables. Harpoon grappling hooks blasted from their compartments in the rear of the walker, lodging into the solid rock behind the VERN. With a final jolt the six legged mech came to a halt. Cold sweat instantly evaporated as I stare over a small cliff we were suddenly on the edge of. It looked like a long way down with sharp rocks included.

“Credit Christ, Suture! We’re getting tossed around like rice in a can! Knock it off! Someone peel Torq off the dashboard, fuck! What the hell were you thinking?!?” Billy said in a panic.

Quickly I rub at my eyes and check the feed. “I didn’t see the cliff. I didn’t see the cliff, why didn’t I see that cliff?”

Billy spazzs out on the channel “Fuck the cliff! Back us up! Reverse, go backwards.”

The monitor is spewing everything but good news. The legs were ok, but controls to the climbing array were shot. The fuel level was nearly empty, and one of the main drives registered inoperative. Swallowing hard against gravity as it pulled at the harness, I spoke into the headset. “We’re stuck. It’s my fault.”

Moments passed as I could do nothing more than stare at the ground through the viewport of the cockpit. The VERN creaked as the tension of the tow cables stretched, it would be a few more minutes before they snapped and we plummeted to a certain death. Lifting my gaze to Nexus Prime, I chided myself. I got ahead of myself now we were screwed.

“Suture…”

It was Lacey. I blink and wipe my face, “Yeah. I’m here, Lacey.”

Her voice was as calm as the air conditioned room in the Mars embassy. “Suture. How do we get down?”

Wincing I reply, “The cables will give way and we will fall. I am sorry I messed up.”

“Apology accepted. Now, how do we get down without falling?”

Beating a fist into my thigh in frustration, “Don’t you get it? WE ARE DONE!” I snap at Lacey.

The VERN tilts further over the edge, the screen informing me one of the cables snapped. One down, seven to go and they would go in quick succession now. Lacey comes back with fiery authority in her voice. “We are not done. Find us a way out of this. Now think.”

“What do you want me to do? We can fall or we can fall. Those are the choices and they are same…” I loaded my mouth to rant some more when another line broke. The walker veered again, giving me a slanted view of the mountainside. I knew every maneuver possible with a VERN and even invented a few of my own on the simulator.

Gripping the mike to the headset, I call hastily to the ambulance secured in the bay. “Strap everyone in. Nice and tight. Lock everything down. Kat, get your helmet on.”

I grab the stick to operate the crane and position its boom over the bay that housed Death Wagon. Lacey comes over the line, “What are you going to do, Suture?” this time her resolve wavers in her words.

Craning the head of the VERN to nearly face backwards, I begin to hunch the body of the VERN down and pull the legs in as compact as I can get them. Grunting, “Gonna stop fighting the law of gravity. We are going to cartwheel our way down and out of this mess.”

“Are you sure about this? No that we have a choice, I would just like some reassurance.”

“Just get strapped in.” I take a shivering breath, wishing I had a bottle of soy sake in my hands.

Two more lines give, it was now or never. “We’re in!” was all Lacey could get out before I hit the switch for all the other lines to be released save for the last one. The VERN swung down and final cable gave way. I had attempted something similar in the game a few times, but the graphic shift was so drastic it always crashed the program. I never got to see the end result, I guess I will now!

The VERN crashes into the mountainside, metal chaffing against stone as the legs sent the machine into a sideways roll. Vertigo was instant as the VERN tumbled down the mountain. Like an off center centrifuge we bounced and bucked. Warning lights blazed and alarms wailed. The glass of the cockpit spider webbed so fine it took on the appearance of frost. One of the pedals depressed fully, indicating the walker had lost a leg. The last thing I see is the fire extinguisher shake loose and tumble right at my face.

******** ************* ************** **************

I come to coughing in the smoke filled cockpit. Fire crackles merrily, feeding on the circuits of the control panel of the VERN. Gagging into the headset, “Billy! Billy! What is your status?” I work the handle of the door on the rear of the cockpit.

The door gives way as the cool night air washes over me. Crawling my way out of the VERN I tumble to the dusty ground. Flopping over on my back, I feel for any injury, by the stars above I am shaken and stirred but somehow still whole. Billy groans over the channel, “I think my nose it broken.”

I nearly laugh, looking at the remains of the VERN. Both her rear legs were gone, sheered messily at the body joint. The boom of the VERN’s crane was bent like a swizzle stick and angled off to the side. Sparks flew from various spots on the massive machine, its belly flush with the ground. My heart leapt, I could see that my rig appeared to be intact. “Billy, what is everyone else’s condition?” I ask, worried for my crew and Lacey.

“Torq is awake. Lacey is good. Kat is…Kat is fine. Ow! Look lady, I am just checking you for injuries. Seriously, it’s my job!” Billy rambles on, and then makes a few muffled murmurs before the channel clicks off.

Any joyous thoughts are crushed as I catch sight of a flickering shadow in the sparking light. Turning slowly, I hold my breath to face the green goggled eyes of the Quadrant Runner from the brothel. Except I know now it is no ordinary Runner. All the little pieces came together finally. The missing helmet parts, the maps, the bet. I am less than ten feet away from the most notorious bounty hunter in recent history, the Black Dog himself.

The Dog continues to just stand there watching me. Finally I just have to say something “Excuse me if I forget to beg for my life. I’ve had a hell of a day.” I say with exhaustion.

He adjusts his stance, looking past me towards the wreckage of the VERN then back to my face. His metallic voice fills the air. “Never thought to see one walk again.”

Puzzled, I look towards the noble metal beast. “She did really well. Look, if you are not here to kill me and collect the reward, what do you want? You said you placed a bet that I would make it.”

I made the mistake of taking my eyes off the Dog. I flinch as something brushes the skin just below my ear. Slapping a hand over the spot I twist to face the bounty hunter again. With fluid grace the Dog is wiping a blade of a knife over the screen of a data slate. He had shaved a few layers of skin off my neck.

“Insurance. If you don’t make it I have a DNA sample to confirm your death.” This was the Dog’s reply.

“Why not just kill me for the reward, not that I am complaining…” I say in regrettable haste.

The Black Dog turns away, the metallic tinge to his voice almost nostalgic. “I have studied you for longer than you think. We both want to bring back the past in our way. You just happen to be better at it than me.”

Before I can quip or even form a retort he is gone, melting into the darkness. Checking to see if I wet myself, I squeak into the headset. “Billy, lower the ramp and get the rig ready to roll. Now.”

Bitter Friends 1

Montgomery smoothed out the saliva covered bills; bearded cheeks flushed with anger. The similar taste of urine and metal from the money so recently stuffed in his mouth was inescapable. Looking about the cramped cluttered room his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Nothing to assist him getting out of a simple locked closet, just a bar that held an assortment of  suits and dresses of various styles and colors. Balling his free hand he struggled to calm himself. Forcing his breathing he concentrated on the muffled voices that reverberated though the door.  His master would be furious, but the circumstances were beyond belief…
*****************************
Franco adjusted the swivel lamp to get a closer look at the body on the table. The lighting being poor to begin with; the adjustment just splayed shadows about the already darkened room. Fidgeting a sun grayed fedora over his winkled brow the near elderly man squinted. Brushing non existent lint off his suit sleeve out of habit his eyes turned to his partner, Benson.

Franco examined his companion a few seconds. Benson dressed in now ill fitting plain clothes of a detective of Reno Police. Retired for five years he found the inactivity put a few pounds on his midsection causing the clothing to strain. Benson still had all his hair and only just starting to go salt and pepper much to Franco’s annoyance. Seeing eyes upon him Benson spoke; his voice carried a near hushed tone. “Did you have to stuff money in that mans mouth and put a gun to his head? I had it handled.”

Letting his gaze fall back to the body on the table to gain a closer look Franco shrugged, speaking in a slight Italian accent, “Your badge was good but now that chowder head is completely confused. You flash a badge; I stuff’em full of cash. Sides, this is no time to play around.”

Benson pushed himself off the wall before walking over towards the table, nearly stubbing his toe upon an array of embalming tools. The basement of the funeral home was dry and kept at a cool consistent temperature.  Siding up next to the table opposite of Franco, Benson crossed his arms and rocked on his heels gazing upon the corpse. “Poor Justin. All that booze finally caught up with him.”

The man on the table measured nearly six and a half feet tall, muscular at one time but age had its way and taken a good portion away. Justin’s corpse was dressed in a black polyester suit. The duo had interrupted Justin’s arrival to the coffin that was parked on a roll bench on the far side of the room near a small service elevator.

Hearing Benson’s statement, Franco made a face. “Yeah, right. Justin never drank.” Reaching in his wool brown coat Franco produced a small leather bound book and placed it on the corpse’s thigh. He proceeded to unbutton the shirt on Justin’s dead body. Benson lurched and obscured the poor light over the corpse. Slight panic rang in his voice. “What are you doing? And, what do you mean he never drank, the report said he over-dosed on alcohol!”

Franco shook his head;  when he got nervous the accent became thicker. “My kid works the station. Gave me the lowdown on the autopsy, too. Unless Justin started drinking last week like a thirty year addict he was either forced to drink that much or he committed the cardinal sin of suicide. Sides, he always refused wine when he was over.”  Peeling back the shirt Franco flicked open a switchblade, “Open the book to the yellow bookmark, and point that light better.”

Benson shook his head, looking to the stairs then gripped the swivel arm with the light.  Adjusting the light Benson used his free hand to open the book laid out on Justin’s thigh. Pain arced through his back and raced down to his knees, his arthritis flaring up again. Benson grit his teeth feeling that any moment his back would give out or his teeth would shatter, “Your kid is a cop? You must be really disappointed.”

Using the adjusted light Franco began to feel along the corpse’s chest trailing to the ribs squinting as if the motion could improve his vision. Franco could feel Benson’s nervousness. Keep the man talking it seemed to help. “Eh, I figured she needed to taste the other side of the tracks before she figures out where she belongs. What’s the book say? And for fuck’s sake keep the light steady, I don’t wanna be here all night.”

Benson gratefully turned his head from the corpse to the book, the movement caused a new wave of pain, “It…I…fuck. Excuse my language. It says…bottom rib left side. Man, Justin was the first of us.” Franco traced his switchblade laden fingers over the corpse and nodded. “Got it, I see the scar. As for him being the first, did some digging of my own. He was the first that lived through the procedure.” Franco paused to rub the collar bone on the right side, “Makes my own itch just seeing it.”

Benson took in the new information; struggling to keep his breathing steady, he never liked to think about his scar and where it was placed.  Closing his eyes Benson spoke to Franco, “Just get to it, Franco. We got a lot of ground to cover tonight.”

Shrugging Franco parted the graying skin the bottom rib with the switchblade, glancing at the corpse, “No disrespect, Justin.”  Franco froze as a realization crept into his mind, the body felt…warm.  Checking Justin’s corpse there was no signs of breathing. Snapping his gaze to Benson; a small solace that the former detective was looking the other way.  Franco felt his fingers shaking as he resumed cutting, maybe it was just the room. No blood, keep cutting.

Franco peeled back skin and muscle gingerly, exposing the rib. Letting out a pent up sigh; Franco felt his nose wrinkling at the new smell of chemicals and underlying decay.
Looking around Franco snatched up a nearby cloth, and wiped at the rib, “There it is. Almost done, pass me a bone saw.”  The rib bone seemed to glitter; delicate designs swirled in the form of arcane sigils. Franco felt his scar burn and itch, he was almost certain it would never go away.

Benson chanced a look and immediately regretted it; late lunch filling his mouth. Letting go of the book it flopped to the floor, groping around blindly on a tray, with his free hand. “I can’t feel one.” Looking to the tray, trying his best to keep his eyes off the scene next to the tray, Benson blanched. “This guy doesn’t have one!”

Franco stepped away from the table irate. “What? Are you fucking kidding me?” Pacing around the room once Franco spied a tool box. Rummaging through the tools Franco produced a wooden handled hammer; setting his jaw he approached the corpse on the table again. “Once again, Justin. No disrespect.”

Benson let go of the swivel lamp and rushed to a sink, the contents of his stomach emptying in a rush.  Bracing his hands on the sides of the sink, his voice strained as it echoed off the basin, “Franco that is Justin man, what are you doing!?!”

A meaty impacted followed Benson’s words causing him to dry heave into the sink.  Another blow, followed by yet another, Benson couldn’t bear to look; his head swimming with near vertigo. The final impact sounded through the room mixed with a snap of bone. Silence washed over the room, save for a unexplained breeze that whistled upon the ears of the duo.

Wrapping the broken rib bone in the cloth Franco used to wipe it down with earlier the retired gangster pocketed the package. Placing a hand on Benson’s should Franco coaxed his one time nemesis away from the sink. “Its over. Turn the water on; don’t want to leave any evidence…just in case we live through this shit.”

Benson did as asked, rinsing his mouth first with the water before letting the basin run.  Benson looked to Franco, the former gangster was pale and sweating. Benson muttered, “Is it too late to say we are too old for this shit?”

Franco felt his legs growing weak leaning upon Benson as much as the detective leaned upon him. Franco snorted as they made their way to the stairs, “Nobody should ever have to do the fucked up shit we have done. Ever. We got a city to save, which includes my kid and your wife. Get some fire under your ass, Benny.”

After what seemed like an eternity the two made it to the parking lot of the Mountain View Cemetery funeral home. They were just down the hill from their goal, but had to take an alternate path to get their. Franco nudged Benson in the ribs, “You are the one with the sight. Where is the nearest gateway?”

Blinking, Benson steadied himself, closing his left eye and tracing his index finger from his earlobe to the left corner of his mouth.  Benson could feel his hair stand on end as usual when he used his gift. His hooded vision misted over, the city faded away leaving only a few twinkling lights in the near darkness. His vision locked on the nearest of the lights, nodding he opened his eye. Benson whispered his throat tightening to keep from dry heaving once again. “San Rafael Park. That is the closest.”

Franco opened the door to the parked black sedan, and slid in to the driver’s seat. Benson took his seat on the passenger side, leaning his head against the cool window he began to time his breathing, six seconds in, six out. Repeat. An old cop trick, Benson was so intent upon the task he failed to hear the engine start.

*** ***** **** ***** ***** **** ****
Montgomery had overheard much of the actions taken by the two. Dishonoring the dead was so taboo to Montgomery that the mere thought of it made him ill. Once he was certain they were gone he fished the key to the closet from his pocket. Montgomery wiggled the key in the stubborn lock, finally feeling the click. Pushing the door open Montgomery raced through the home pausing to check the doorways. The warding runes were intact yet the ‘visitors’ walked right through them. How? The wards kept out all visitors after dark.

Rapid footfalls sounded on the steps as Montgomery descended into the embalming room. Calling the police would raise too many unneeded questions that Montgomery was not inclined to answer. The corpse on the table, clothes in disarray and the lower part of its chest flayed open. Justin Wyatt, he has a name, Montgomery chided himself.

Viewing the corpse Montgomery felt sadness at the sight which changed to anger.  Grabbing the receiver of the wall phone Montgomery rapidly dialed a number.  The young embalmer felt his stance was off kilter. Looking down he moved his right foot revealing a leather bound book.

Stooping down he picked the book up just as the call went through.  Frantically Montgomery began to relay what had transpired. “Master! We’ve just had intruders! Interlopers! Defilers!”  The voice on the other end attempted to calm Montgomery, get the man to slow down.

The conversation continued, “No, Master. They walked in through the wards like they were not even there. They locked me in a closet! They had no magical ability, yet they were here inside. “ Listening Montgomery frowned, still panicked. “Cowin? What is a Cowin?”

Looking to the book, Montgomery pinned the receiver of the phone to his ear with a shoulder. “They dropped a book” Thumbing through it quickly, Montgomery could make little sense of it. “I can’t read it, there is a symbol on it though, an eye. Master. I think they are going to try and stop you from doing what is right.”

Montgomery nodded and hung up the phone after the conversation. Storming back up stairs he eyed the front door, he would not be able to leave until dawn struck the doorway. The price one pays for such wards.  Balling his fists he felt trapped in a place that was supposed to be safe.  All he could do was clean up what these defilers had disgraced.  Feeling his shoulders slump Montgomery turned from the door and set about the task of soothing the disturbed  corpse of Justin Wyatt.