Black And Blue: A Quentin Black Paranormal Mystery (Quentin Black Mystery Book 5)

by JC Andrijeski

  Black glanced over his shoulder briefly. The Aryans were watching the two of them openly now. The hostility in their faces was overt, and all of them were now on their feet where they clustered around the exercise bars.

  Black did a brief headcount, then looked back at the man sitting on the bleachers.

  “I’m not looking to cause you any trouble,” he said.

  Cowboy smiled up at him, a real smile that time, shielding his eyes once more under his uneven shank of dirty-blond hair. “Not a problem, brother... not a problem. Truthfully, gets powerful dull in here.”

  Black smiled back. He couldn’t help it.

  He was starting to like this guy.

  “Yeah, I can imagine,” he said. “So what about it? You’ll take a look at my... problem? Maybe I can do a bigger favor for you, if you get it off me?”

  Cowboy set his book down on the bench next to him, then rose to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. Black just stood there as he took off the blue prison jersey he wore, revealing a white tank top and muscular, tattooed arms. Black didn’t see any white supremacist stuff on there, at least nothing obvious. Instead, his arms had a lot of Asian writing on them, mostly Chinese, but also some Sanskrit and what looked like Tibetan. Then there was that sword on his neck, what looked almost like a scimitar.

  Black only read a few words here and there, but he recognized some of it.

  “You a Buddhist?” he said, speaking before he thought.

  Cowboy gave him another of those faint smiles. “Not a good one,” he said, stretching his arms out to the sides again. “You up for some exercise, brother?” His voice remained conversational. “You say they’re giving you a free hand now, right?” He motioned with his chin towards the collar Black wore. “Not going to drop you, like before?”

  “So they say,” Black said, wary.

  He glanced over his shoulder again, and realized Cowboy was right.

  He was going to get some exercise, and soon. The Aryans were approaching. Eight that Black could count, which meant they’d remembered he could fight. Maybe they weren’t so sure if the guards would be on their side this time, either.

  They were probably less sure about Cowboy himself.

  “Well, if you’re feeling energetic...?” Cowboy nodded again, that time aiming his gaze past Black a second time, in the direction of the Aryans. “Happy to help. Gets dull in here, like I said. But if you want to do this yourself, I won’t get in your way, brother.”

  That time, Black chuckled.

  He’d shifted his body sideways, so he could watch the others approach.

  “No,” he said, glancing at Cowboy. “I wouldn’t deprive you of the entertainment if you needed it, friend. I appreciate it, in fact. It’s generous of you.”

  Cowboy shrugged, that smile still tugging at his lips. “Not a problem.” He rotated his shoulders in a circle, stretching his neck. “Could use a bit of a warm-up, too.”

  Black chuckled, shaking his head.

  The Aryans had reached them by then.

  Cowboy and Black both turned, facing the line of them.

  The biggest of the bunch stood in front, a monster with a shaved head and no shirt. A tattoo of a black swastika resting inside the eagle symbol covered most of his chest. He loomed over Cowboy, who was probably close to six feet himself, and even had an inch on Black. He looked like he weighed almost two of him.

  Black took him in with a sweeping glance.

  “You looking for a new white guy’s dick to suck... hey, fish?” The big guy aimed his words at Black, glancing around at his friends with a smirk when they laughed. He sounded like he was from New Mexico or Arizona. Somewhere out west, anyway.

  “...There’s no need to go begging and pleading. Plenty of white boys over here are happy to take a second turn...” He motioned towards his friends, who also smirked at Black. A few of them looked him over mockingly, making kissy faces.

  “You don’t want to hurt our feelings, do you, chief?” the big one said, shifting his wide face and small eyes back towards Black.

  Black didn’t hesitate.

  Kicking out in a sharp, forward thrust, he knocked out his right knee, where he’d already noted scar tissue around the bone. When the big guy yelped, he broke his nose with an elbow before the other man had hit the ground, producing a satisfying crunch.

  That brought a full-fledged scream.

  Black couldn’t hold back the rush of heat that flooded his chest. He didn’t wait that time either, but kneed the guy in an uppercut to the jaw, putting his weight behind it.

  Since the guy had been screaming, he’d probably lost part of his tongue.

  There was a strange silence once the screams cut out.

  The big guy lay on his back, moaning, blood coming from his nose and mouth.

  “Come on!” Black snarled, feeling that surge of adrenaline hit his limbs. “Come on, you inbred, banjo-toting, dumbfuck, pig-humping assholes! Or don’t you want to fuck with me without the guards here to hold your dicks?”

  The Aryans around him stared, the humor bleeding from their expressions.

  One of them, a shorter, dark-haired white guy with a mohawk, pointed at Black’s face. “You’re dead this time, fish. You hear me? No more nice guys. You’re fucking dead...” He glared at Cowboy. “You and your little fucking boyfriend. That wannabe-redneck white trash motherfucker’s long overdue to get his ass handed to him, too...”

  “Come on then,” Black growled. “Stop flirting with me and make a move.”

  The guy’s eyes filled with hatred. He darted forward.

  Black waited for him to get closer, but before he could...

  Cowboy moved, liquid fast. Taking a light, hop-step forward, he whipped around in a spinning back hook kick that Black barely tracked with his eyes. Fucker was fast. Almost seer-reflexes fast. His heel connected with his target’s temple with a jarring thunk that must have been mohawk’s jaw snapping shut in reflex.

  Black watched the guy go down.

  Then he looked up, met Cowboy’s gaze briefly. Cowboy smiled.

  “Okay with you, brother?” he said. “Don’t want to deprive you, like I said.”

  Black smiled wider. “We ever get out of here, you want a job, Cowboy?” he said.

  Cowboy laughed.

  Then they were back to back, and the other six Aryans were already approaching.

  Watching them come, Black broke out in a grin. He couldn’t help it.

  “I SUPPOSE IT’S wrong to confess I might have enjoyed that a little?” Cowboy leaned back on the metal bleachers, wiping a smear of blood off his cut lip. Glancing down at his own tattooed arms, he squinted at Black in the sunlight, like his eyes were sensitive to the light. “I don’t think the Dalai Lama would appreciate that sentiment much.”

  Black nodded, giving him a faint smile in return. “Yeah, well, I doubt the Dalai Lama would appreciate much of anything about me. As for my dojo in the United States Army, he likely would have critiqued my form for being sloppy, then tore me a new asshole for not disarming that prick with the bone shiv before he got to you...”

  Cowboy glanced down at his thigh, where the offending cut lived.

  Then he shrugged, lowering his arm. “No matter.”

  His eyes scanned the yard, looking out over the men who were now keeping their distance from both of them.

  “Curious, though,” Cowboy said thoughtfully.

  “Which part?” Black grunted, examining a swelling bruise on one arm.

  The guards had finally broken up the fight.

  Using the hoses, they set off the alarm, ordering them all down flat on their stomachs. Then they’d cuffed the Aryans and brought them back inside the building, their hands behind their backs. Black heard the guards telling them they were off to do a stint in De-Seg.

  Meanwhile, they’d left Cowboy and Black alone, and they’d both come out of that fight in considerably better shape than any of the Aryans. In fact, the guards didn’t even show up until Blac
k and Cowboy had more or less dropped or broken something on every one of the first eight guys, along with two more who joined the fray.

  The guards acted like they weren’t even there.

  They didn’t even make Cowboy or Black go to the infirmary.

  Cowboy looked at him, squinting again. “Who the hell are you, brother?”

  Black exhaled, pursing his lips. He could feel some of the adrenaline wearing off now, leaving him more angry than satisfied, even though the fight burned off some of the bare edges of that anger. He wondered if it burned off enough that he’d actually sleep that night.

  “Someone who needs to get out of here,” he muttered.

  Cowboy continued to watch him shrewdly, not speaking for a few seconds. “They punished you before, is that it?”

  Black shook his head, giving him a harder look. “That wasn’t punishment.”

  “What was it?”

  “Blackmail.” Exhaling, Black shook his head, remembering what Brick said to him about Miri. “Persuasion. A threat.” He gave Cowboy another level stare. “I’m married. Next time, they won’t go after me.”

  Cowboy’s mouth quirked. From his expression, he might have been wondering why Black was confiding in him. Or maybe he was just surprised Black had a wife.

  Cowboy craned his head around then, looking at the back of Black’s neck. “You know that thing goes right into your skin? Looks like it goes right down to the bone, brother.”

  Black nodded, glancing at him. “Do you have anything in the machine shop that might cut through it?” He watched the other man continue to study the collar as he spoke. “Breaking the circle should short it out. I’ve encountered these before, and that’s usually how they worked.” He paused, studying the other’s face, frustrated he couldn’t read him. “Do that, and I can get both of us out of here. More than that, I can give you a new life. New identity. Hell... new face if you want it. And I was serious before, about the job.”

  Cowboy frowned, looking from the collar to his face. His eyes studied Black’s skeptically.

  “You don’t even know me, brother.”

  “I’m a good judge of character.”

  Cowboy snorted, shaking his head. He leaned closer, fingering the collar that time, and staring at where it connected at the base of Black’s skull.

  “You’ve encountered these before?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “People collar you a lot, then?”

  Black didn’t answer. Still, he knew he might be revealing too much. It was a calculated risk. Worst case scenario, he might be able to get Lucky’s help to erase or blunt Cowboy’s memories, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  Either way, for now at least, he needed the help.

  Cowboy watched his face, frowned. “What’s it made of?”

  “I don’t know.” That was more or less true.

  Cowboy studied it for a few minutes more.

  Then, leaning back on the bench, he shook his head, whistling softly.

  “I ain’t never seen no metal like that before, brother. Do you know it’s green? The color don’t really show until it hits the sunlight just right, but it’s definitely green... like a peacock feather, almost. Is there copper in it?”

  Black shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. I can’t answer any questions for you about what it’s made of or how it was made, but I wish I did know. If we get it off, I intend to take it with me and see if my people could find out.”

  “Your people?” Cowboy gave him an amused look. “You have people?”

  “I do.”

  “How’d you end up in here?”

  “It wasn’t through the court system, I’ll tell you that.” Black met his gaze again, his stare level. “You help me get this off, I can get us both out. That’s a promise.”

  Cowboy continued to frown. Then he reached out, rubbing the surface of the collar with one thumb. “Looks just like stone. Feels like stone, too... like some kind of river stone they polished up. Feels more like glass than metal.” He glanced at Black’s face. “But it’s warm. Why’s it warm? That from the electronics inside?”

  Black shrugged. “I don’t know,” he lied.

  As much as he needed Cowboy to trust him, he couldn’t tell this human that the collar was probably warm because it likely had organic, living components, in addition to dead ones. As in, part of the collar was alive. That was assuming it worked anything like the collars had on Old Earth, but the stone-like, iridescent green metal made Black think it did.

  He had no idea who was building organic machines on this version of Earth, but he intended to find out. If it was made anything like the ones back home, someone might be farming humans or seers for parts, too.

  His voice sharpened when he spoke up next.

  “Sorry I can’t tell you more,” he said. “That might change, if we get out of here. You’re right, though. Any tool you have would have to be almost strong enough to cut through stone. Sharp, too. And the inside of the collar’s likely to be wet. Soft, anyway.”

  Cowboy grimaced, still looking at the collar.

  “Wet?” he said. “What the fuck is inside?”

  Black shook his head. “Can’t tell you that either.”

  Cowboy looked at it a few minutes longer. He pulled on it too, making Black wince in pain. He didn’t complain, though. He wanted Cowboy to learn as much about it as he could.

  After another few seconds, the other man leaned back, resting his elbows back on the upper bleachers. He exhaled, squinting his eyes as if thinking.

  “Guards don’t like me looking at that thing,” he observed, inclining his head in the direction of the tower. “They started watching us, as soon as they saw me take an interest. I’m thinking this is something they’re going to go to great pains to keep on you, brother.”

  Black nodded. “Yes,” he said only. “I imagine you’re right.”

  “And you’re not going to tell me who you are?”

  Black shrugged, meeting his gaze. “It wouldn’t mean anything to you if I did,” he said. “But I’ve got connections. I can help you, if you help me.”

  “You’re not really a chief, are you, boss?”

  Black sighed, clicking a little with his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He stopped doing it as soon as he caught himself, making his expression smooth as glass. Miriam had gotten him in some bad habits again. He’d lowered his guard around her, started acting more seer. Maybe that was even part of why this was happening.

  “My wife is,” he said finally, glancing at Cowboy. “I figured I needed some allies in here. And I hate Nazis.”

  Cowboy smiled back, clearly satisfied with his answer. To that question, at least.

  “I hate Nazis too, brother,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll see what we can do with this thing.” His mouth hardened. “What work detail do you have?”

  “None.”

  “None?”

  Black turned, giving him another flat glance, glancing briefly up at the tower, and the other inmates, who were still giving them both a wide berth. “They have me signed up for some laboratory thing. I don’t know when I go, but soon. Soon enough that we can’t wait on cutting this thing off of me.”

  Cowboy’s smile left his face, maybe for the first time since Black started talking to him.

  “They’re sending you to the white coats?” he said.

  Seeing the understanding in those gray eyes, Black frowned. “What do you know about it?”

  Cowboy shook his head, whistling again, but still without the smile. His eyes looked worried now, even after he met Black’s gaze. “I know most of them don’t come back, brother... and the ones who do, they ain’t right.”

  “Ain’t right?” Black’s frown deepened. “Ain’t right, how?”

  Cowboy continued to shake his head, but the distance in his eyes showed him to be thinking. Finally, as if he’d given up on trying to describe the particulars to himself, he glanced up at Black’s face.


  “They just ain’t right,” he said, blunt. “It’s like a part of them died while they were there. We call ‘em zombies in here.”

  “Zombies,” Black muttered. “Fantastic.” He looked out over the yard, scanning faces, watching the way people moved, looking for other loners he might have missed. “Anyone like that here?” he said finally. “Anyone I could talk to?”

  Cowboy shook his head. “Far as I know, they don’t stay here long either, brother. The ones who come back... those zombies... they’re only passing through. They move them pretty quick afterwards.”

  “Move them where?” Black said, giving him another hard stare.

  Cowboy shrugged, leaning back on the bleachers. “You wanna know what they tell us? Or what I think?” he said.

  “Both.”

  “Well, they tell us they get a free pass to parole,” Cowboy said, wiping the heel of his hand across his forehead, smearing dirt and sweat. “They try to get us to think it’s a great deal, going to the white coats. That if we make it through, we get a free ticket to free town.” He gave Black a shrewder look. “They promise you that too?”

  Black nodded. “More or less.”

  He paused, once more studying the other man’s face, and wondering about him. Wondering what his story was, why he’d fought beside him, why he seemed open to the idea of helping him in the first place. It’d been a long time since he couldn’t get insight into another person he truly wanted to know more about.

  Well, apart from Miri.

  Pain ribboned through him, badly enough that he winced, clenching his jaw. It got bad enough it triggered the collar slightly, forcing his eyes closed.

  “Hey! What’s wrong with you?”

  Black looked up, meeting the other man’s gaze, his frowning mouth. Black saw curiosity there, but also something that might have verged on concern.

  “They break something inside you, brother?” he said. “You unwell?”

  Black shook his head. He fought to get his light under control before he set off the collar for real. Already, he could feel it heating up around his neck. After another few breaths, he managed to stabilize the pain somewhat.