by S T Branton
The world did not belong to the gods. It belonged to us. And I needed to get off my ass and take it back.
“We have a ton of work to do still,” I said to Maya. “But I promise, there’s an end to this. I’m not sure when, and I’m not sure how it’ll happen yet. All that matters is that we’ll go after the jackasses who think they can take over. We won’t hide here. We’re merely regrouping, training new people, and building our strength. The gods caught us with our pants down when they invaded. I won’t let that happen again.”
“That sounds good to me,” she responded. “I simply wanted to know we’re not dead in the water, is all.” She gestured around the room. “Two months ago, this felt like paradise to me. I pushed hard for it. Now, I know it’s a necessary compromise. I hope we don’t have to make it forever.”
I shook my head vehemently. “We won’t. I won’t let you down, Maya. You or anyone else in Fort Victory.”
“Of course you won’t, Vic.” She smiled. “You never have.”
We walked out of the common room together and she peeled off to return to the infirmary. I was on my way to take that long-deferred shower when I heard purposeful bootsteps behind me. I turned to see Dan, fresh from outside and his cheeks ruddy with the cold. “I have a preliminary report,” he said, slightly out of breath.
“That was fast,” I said.
He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard to reach a conclusion once we found what we were looking for.”
The phrasing piqued my interest. “And what was that?”
Dan held his hand out and opened his fingers. A few thick bolts rested in his upturned palm. “It was a little hard to determine at first, but once we recovered and organized the supports, we saw a pattern. That tower was riddled with loose bolts. It was simply waiting to come down.”
I furrowed my brow. “What the hell does that mean?”
“That’s the million-dollar question.” He stuck the bolts in his pocket. “My guess is that the general did it when he moved in, perhaps to keep his guys on their toes or to thwart any attempt at a coup. Or this place is simply in worse shape than it looks. Either way, I’ve dispatched task forces to the other towers to make sure they’re sound. I’ll let you know what we find.”
“It’s been months,” I said. “Why did it take so long to fall?”
Again, he shrugged. “Not all of them were compromised but enough to throw structural integrity off. It’s possible the general didn’t even know and we drew the short straw. In any case, we can make sure it never happens again.”
“Right. Good. Go do that.”
He left and I went to my room, gathered a towel and some fresh clothes, and sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes as I mulled things over. Maybe that crazy old coot had meant for us all to be part of his grand sacrifice—including his own men. “Hey, Marcus? Sorry I snapped at you before. I was stressed out.”
It has all worked out for the best, Victoria. What troubles you? You never apologize unless your mind is heavy.
“Wow, that’s cold,” I said. “But also true.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I want to be prepared for what lies ahead, and I realize now that it’s already pretty bad, isn’t it? These fuckers are totally ruthless.”
I believe it would be best for you to focus on one thing at a time, rather than get mired in possibilities. There is nothing you have learned here about the Forgotten that you did not already know.
“Yeah.” I sucked in a deep breath and told my mind to be quiet. There was no point in getting nervous about a bridge we hadn’t crossed yet. “Okay. What’s next, then?” That last question was more to me than to Marcus, but he answered anyway.
The future device requires repair.
“It’s not a future device, dude.” I laughed a little. “Radios have been around for over a hundred years.”
And I have been around for two millennia. Almost all things are the future to me.
“Nah,” I said, still smiling. “You’re the distant past. When this is over, we’ll find you a nice museum to settle down in.”
He grumbled. I find this retirement plan…objectionable.
Chapter Six
I handpicked the squad for the radio run—it was me, Deacon, Dan, Luis, and a couple of Dan’s best guys. Dan nailed down the location of a place that might have the parts we needed. “Twenty miles out,” he said. “It’s a medium-sized town, so that might mean it’s more dangerous, but it has a hardware store. And a mall, if that fails. I think it’s extremely likely that we’ll run into someone down there, so it’s best to be prepared for anything.”
“By ‘anything’ you mean ‘the worst,’ right?” I joked.
He winked. “You got it. But I, for one, will expect the best.”
“We don’t have any intel at all about possible enemies?” Deacon asked. “Not that I don’t think we can deal with whatever we find, but it’d be nice to know in advance.”
Dan pointed at my sword. “Unless that thing is secretly a metal detector for all things unholy, we’re shit out of luck.” They looked at me expectantly.
I made a face. “What, like it’ll start to screech every time a god is near? I don’t think so.” I patted the hilt on my hip. “Don’t worry about it. We can handle this. We’re cool.”
Deacon smirked. “Some of us are, anyway.” He gave Dan a meaningful look. They high-fived.
“I take it back,” I said. “I’m cool. You guys are lame.”
We loaded into the trucks and headed onto the road. Deacon and I led the way in the vehicle with the smaller cab, armed with a map Dan had drawn us from his satellite information. The highway was long and emptier than ever. Cars stood abandoned on the pavement although all their headlights were now dead. I hoped their occupants had fared better.
Deacon glanced in the mirrors as we drove. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to a sight like this,” he said.
“Good,” I answered. “We’ll put it all back to normal, so you don’t have to.”
“I look forward to that day.” We reached an open stretch, and he put his foot down on the gas pedal. The engine rumbled. “One good thing about the dissolution of the police force is that we’re allowed to have a little fun.”
“Weren’t you a cop at some point?” I asked.
“It seems like another lifetime now.” Deacon kept his eyes on the road. “To answer your question, yes. But doing the work doesn’t mean I always believed in it, or that I can’t appreciate the joy of driving real damn fast on a clear road.” Having said that, he stepped on the brake almost guiltily. “But I better make sure we don’t lose the others.”
“Uh huh.” I nudged him playfully. “Show off.”
Deacon laughed. “Caught me. Any chance to look good in front of the resident badass.” Our eyes met in the mirror.
I smirked. “Talk is only gonna get you so far, Agent St. Clare.” I held his gaze for a few moments longer before the smirk turned into a laugh. “It’ll have to be later, though. We have to take care of business first.”
“You know what they say about all work and no play,” he quipped. But I could see him getting into the zone as we drew closer to our destination. The telltale signs of urban sprawl popped up along the edges of the highway. Restaurant and hotel signs dotted the landscape that rolled by outside the window.
Deacon glanced at the map and pulled off on a long, curving exit ramp that brought us down onto the main road of a sizable town. It had undoubtedly once been lively and bustling, like so many of the places we passed. As it stood now, the sheer emptiness was overwhelming.
“Keep an eye out for a hardware store,” I said. “Or that mall Dan mentioned.”
“Let’s do the hardware store first. I have a feeling we might regret the mall.” He cruised down the center of the street and paid little mind to the streetlights still hanging overhead.
“In case of more zombies?” I asked.
“More anything, really.”
We lapsed into silence for the next
few minutes, and each of us diligently surveyed the surroundings.
I tapped his arm when I saw a weathered yellow sign on a pole. “Look, there’s a Value Hardware.”
“Bingo,” Deacon said. He stuck on his blinker and steered into the lot.
“I like how you blatantly disregard stuff like lanes and traffic lights but remember your blinker,” I teased as I opened my door.
“Some things are non-negotiable,” he responded.
We joined Dan, Luis and our two support guys on the asphalt. The six of us studied the front windows of the store.
“What’s the plan?” Dan asked. “Grab and go?”
I fished in my pocket for Marge’s list and passed it around the huddle. “Here’s what we need. Memorize as much as you can and grab whatever you see when you get in there. If we’ve got extras, that’s great. It means we won’t be completely screwed if the thing breaks again.” I hesitated. “And if you see something unfriendly, holler. We’ll back you up.” I surveyed my team. “Any questions?”
Dan shook his head. “It sounds simple enough. Let’s get this done.”
The automatic doors still worked in the front of the store. As on all the supply runs before, we stepped into an eerie oasis of stillness, a snapshot of a store suspended in time. There were more signs of distress there than in other places—merchandise on the floor, an abandoned employee vest with the nametag still attached splayed out on the tile, and a pricing gun that lay on its side where someone had evidently dropped it in a panic. But there was no blood, only signs of general chaos.
I clapped my hands. The sound rang out like a gunshot through the store. Dan’s two men jumped and wheeled to look at me.
“Sorry,” I said with a smile. “It’s time to make like this is a game show and haul some serious ass. No one’s here right now, but they could easily show up, and I’d rather not be caught in the middle of our shopping spree.”
“You heard the lady,” Dan said. “Scramble!”
I grabbed a basket off the rack near the front and darted down the aisles in search of anything that even looked like what we needed. Whole rolls of wiring went into the basket, as did tools and circuit boards and packets of tiny screws.
“Get the brand names!” I yelled to the others. “We’re not paying for shit, so you might as well.”
They laughed.
I felt pretty good. Oddly, these little errands were some of the times when I felt most at ease. They were fast-paced, I knew exactly what I needed, and I was always on the edge of a full-on adrenaline rush, ready for a fight.
This time, it didn’t look like we’d have to worry about any trouble. In the empty checkout lanes, we swiped some bags for our stuff, double-checked the list, and headed out with our arms full.
“I’d call that a roaring success, Dan proclaimed triumphantly. The words had barely left his mouth when they were abruptly punctuated by the crash of shattering glass. “What the hell was that?”
Luis’s mouth dropped open. “Over there.” He pointed. “Revenge of the Bros!”
At first, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I followed the direction of his finger and saw a whole brigade of all too familiar bronzed beach bodies pour out of the broken front window of the fitness center next door.
“Are you kidding me?” I clutched my bag tighter. “I thought we left these meatheads in the city.”
“They didn’t die?” Deacon asked, bewildered. “Or, I don’t know, turn back into normal people?”
“After that much tanner?” I asked. “There’s no hope.”
“Point taken.”
The bodybuilders in front put their heads down like bulls and charged headlong in our direction. Nothing appeared to deter them in any way—they raced over curbs, uneven grass, and the concrete bars demarcating the ends of the parking spots.
Deacon dropped his bag and drew his gun. “Fight!” he shouted.
They may be weaker without Beleza around to bolster them, Marcus advised. However, if they were converted of their own free will, his absence will not matter much at all. They may simply remain under his thrall as well. I am not sure of the length of his reach or his current location.
“He might be close,” I muttered. “Noted.”
The good thing about Beleza was that he wouldn’t be hard to spot if he did show his gleaming face. The guy would’ve stuck out anywhere, but I didn’t have time to think about that, even if I wanted to. His minions had covered the ground between us in a shockingly small space of time.
I had barely enough time to draw my sword before it was buried in the manscaped chest of a beach volleyball enthusiast gone wrong. His piercing blue eyes went wide and stayed that way. His features hardened, as did his hands around the sword’s hilt. I pried the weapon free, and his fingers broke off. There was no blood or even bones in the wounds. He was bronze, through and through.
“I saw these guys in New York,” Luis said. His rifle rattled off an automatic burst, and I saw another bronzed man become a statue. “What the fuck are they doing here?”
“Who knows?” Another took a powerful swing at me and I lopped his right arm off by reflex. Unbalanced, he lurched forward and received a sword in the stomach. “Get rid of them and let me know if you see anything bigger.”
Luis shot again. “I better not.”
I still had my eyes peeled for Beleza himself, even though I was fairly sure he would’ve made himself known if he was there. These dudes were mostly scantily clad sluggers and no match for the sword. I decorated the parking lot with weird, grotesquely hyper-realistic statues of beefy men in thongs.
“It looks like an art installation,” Deacon commented. “Do you think we could get a grant?”
“The National Endowment’s never seen anything like it,” I replied.
“Uh oh.” Dan stared at the broken window of the gym. “I retract what I said about a roaring success.”
Two musclebound humanoids, even bigger and bulkier than the rest, emerged from the fitness center and wielded long heavily weighted bars. Their faces were glued in permanent weightlifters’ grimaces, and the veins on their arms and necks protruded. They spun the weights like staffs, so fast that I could hear them slice through the air.
“You jinxed it, Dan,” I said. “Hang back. I’ll cut those things down to size.” The sword hummed in my hand.
Aim carefully, Marcus said. They will likely attempt to crush your skull.
“They can have it,” I said lightly. “It’s pretty empty anyway.”
The nearest guy lifted his weapon above his head. I dashed in and swept my blade up from the underside. A few sparks flew as the metal made contact before the two pieces of the bar flew apart. I gutted the wielder before he even had the chance to figure out his next move.
His partner, on the other hand, proved to be a little savvier. He had deflected half the flying weight, and now he brought his staff down toward my head. I flung my sword arm up and felt the Gladius Solis cleave through something. The edge of a bundle of weights clipped my ribs as it fell and a dull pain crashed through my side. I teetered, regained my footing, and parried the second strike. The cut end of the weight bar glowed and smoked, inches from my skin. Beleza’s minion reared back. I took the opportunity to run him through cleanly in more or less the spot where his weight had hit me.
“That’s payback for the bruise I’m gonna have tomorrow,” I said.
Deacon gave me a look. “Now who’s showing off?”
“Oh, please.” I waved him off. “If I was showing off, I wouldn’t have gotten hit.”
“To be fair,” he said, “that was more about physics than anything else.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I walked toward the trucks. “My perfect record is ruined.” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Wait a minute. Where the fuck are the bags?” Our sweet haul from the hardware store was nowhere to be seen. “Oh, no. No, no, no.” I grabbed my head in both hands and squeezed. “They didn’t get anywhere near the damn trucks. We made
sure of it.”
“The bags?” Deacon’s look of confusion morphed into one of equal horror. “Shit.”
“How the fuck did this happen? What do they even need with all that stuff?” Legitimate nausea crept into the back of my throat. I looked toward the store. “We cleaned that place out—”
“Looking for this?”
I turned so fast I practically gave myself whiplash, only to see Luis sitting in the bed of one of the trucks with a huge, shit-eating grin on his face. He had every bag in there with him, laid down on its side so I wouldn’t see it. “You little—” I ran over and flicked his ear before he could dodge. The pain didn’t stop him from cracking up.
“You shoulda seen your face just now,” he hooted. “That was straight-up gold.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Deacon, Dan, and the two other guys struggle to keep their poker faces. Truth be told, so did I. Luis was a funny kid.
Even if it was at my expense.
“I’m glad you jerks think so,” I said and stalked to the driver’s side of my truck. “I’m driving back. Good job on this run or whatever.” But before I shut the door, I shot them all a massive, goofy grin. “Last one back to the fort’s a statue in a man-thong.”
Chapter Seven
Fifteen miles of breakneck highway racing later, the lighthearted mood was on the backburner again in my and Deacon’s cab. For the last five miles of the journey, I fretted quietly about whether or not the radio could actually be fixed or if Marge was merely quirky and bluffing. Everything she’d said about her past experiences was unsubstantiated, and yet, I’d trusted her. My excitement over the prospect of a fixed radio trumped all the lessons I had learned about blind faith.
I felt more nervous than doubtful, though. I was so desperate to hear something—anything—about the outside world that I didn’t want to even consider the idea that the radio might be unfixable. Still, it had looked smashed beyond repair to me.