by S T Branton
“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.
We pulled into our spot outside Fort Victory, and I couldn’t shake the mounting apprehension as I killed the engine. I didn’t say much, simply grabbed some bags and rounded up everyone else. Dan and Luis still laughed and joked with one another, but by the time we made it to the radio room, I was ready to jump out of my skin.
“Luis,” I said. “Do you know anything about radios?”
“Me?” He laughed. “I told you the first time we looked at this mess, I learned how to put computers and electronics and stuff like that together when I was younger. I never said I knew how to bring them back from the dead.”
“If someone else did the heavy lifting, could you help?” I sorted through the contents of the bags at light-speed and put it all into piles that I hoped Marge would be able to navigate easily.
“I can do some of the heavy lifting,” Luis said quickly. “I remember enough, I think.” He frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m streamlining the process as much as I can,” I answered. “And when I bring her in, you’re gonna be her new best friend until that radio is functional again.”
“Her?” Luis arched his eyebrows.
Dan moved in and took the list. “We’ll handle the prep. You go get her.”
“Who’s ‘her?’” Luis asked.
“You’ll find out,” Dan said.
I located Marge in the same place I’d met her, perched in a chair in the front room. Her dark eyes scanned her surroundings like laser pointers. I almost heard the beeping of a target system when they locked onto me.
“Hello, dear,” she said as I made my way to her. That high, thin voice cut through the room and straight to my ears. “I trust you’re doing well on my little scavenger hunt?”
The words “scavenger hunt” did little to inspire confidence in me, but I hid my feelings behind a falsely enthusiastic expression. “Actually, we just finished it.”
“Oh!” Her crinkly eyes lit up with a mischievous sparkle. “I must say, I’m impressed.”
I shrugged modestly. “I guess you could say I was dedicated to the challenge.” Carefully, I offered the tiny old woman my arm. “We’ve put the supplies in the radio room if you’d like to take a look.”
“Whatever you say, dear.” Marge took one of my hands in both of hers and hopped down off the chair. Her cane was hooked over one of the arms, and I handed it to her.
“I’ll have assistants, won’t I?” she asked and gestured vaguely at her face. “These old eyes and hands aren’t what they used to be.”
“You sure will,” I said. “I assembled a team for you.”
“You’re too kind.” Once we reached the hall, she released my hand and went ahead. She moved so fast that I didn’t have time to warn anyone in the radio room about her arrival. The door was open, and she walked right in.
I heard Luis say, “Are you lost, ma’am? Let me help you.”
“You must be my assistant,” Marge said. “In which case, you can absolutely help me. This job is too big for one old woman to handle alone, you know?”
That was when I rounded the corner into the doorway. Luis stared at me, dumbfounded. He motioned toward Marge’s back and mouthed, “Her?”
I nodded and grinned. “I see you’ve already introduced yourself to Luis, here. Consider him at your beck and call for the duration of the project. Anything you need or want, he’s your man.” I could see his intense desire to object but bless his heart, he kept his mouth shut. He knew we needed her as much as I did.
If I’d been paying him, I would’ve given the kid a raise.
Dan was still there too, and as the great restoration got underway, he brought in more helping hands. Even with three personal assistants, the work was slow and painstaking, and Marge was clearly not the easiest boss to work under. After the first hour, her voice was like listening to nails on a chalkboard.
It was a good thing I couldn’t sit still anyway. I wanted to be in there and bear witness to the process, but I constantly jumped up and paced circuits of the room, which wasn’t that big to begin with. Also, I had a nearly pathological need to monitor the radio’s progress, and that annoyed everyone who actually worked on it. It didn’t take long for Luis and Dan to put their tools down, look me dead in the eye, and say, “Vic, you have to leave.”
“You’re driving us nuts,” Luis added helpfully. “You keep walking in circles like that, you’re gonna make me seasick.”
“And this is a landlocked state,” said Dan.
Marge interjected, “No distracting the personnel.”
I huffed. “Fine. See you guys later. Let me know when it’s done.” I slipped out of the room and resumed my pacing up and down the hallway outside. It was better, I had to admit. More space and less irritated glares. I walked up and down that corridor until my legs were too exhausted for me to continue and I sat with my back to the wall. Hours passed in fitful dozing while I listened intently for any sign of progress on the other side of the door. Occasionally, someone would leave to get a snack or go to the bathroom, but no one gave me a meaningful update.
They probably thought I would eventually go away. Instead, when I decided I couldn’t sit and catnap anymore, I stood and resumed my pacing. The back hallway was not near a window, so I had no idea what time it was. I fiddled absently with Marcus’s medallion while I moved. He had been quiet throughout this whole process. Even he didn’t want to deal with me in this state.
“Vic?” I was so lost in my own little world that the first utterance of my name didn’t register. “Vic? Are you okay?”
Jules stood in front of me, a worried look on her face. “Oh, hey, Jules. I’ve been exiled from the radio room, that’s all.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “It’s not going well?”
“I think it’s going fine,” I said. “I hope it’s going fine. I’m anxious about it, and that makes everybody crazy. They have enough to do without me hovering.”
“Well, that’s true.” She took me by the arm and led me to the nearest chair. “Sit down for a minute. You’re making me jumpy just looking at you.”
I didn’t want to sit down, but I did as I was told. All the energy that had been expressed through pacing immediately bubbled up in my core. I fidgeted. “I just…I want it to be over. I want to know if it’ll work.”
“It will,” Jules said. She put her hands on my shoulders. “Try to relax, okay? Working yourself up won’t make them go any faster or the wait any easier. You saw what shape that radio was in. It’ll take time.”
“Yeah.” I had already given myself the beginnings of a headache. “I don’t have any patience right now, and that’s a problem.”
“Let’s try this,” she suggested. “Is there something else you can think about instead? Sometimes, a distraction is the best medicine. Look at me and think of anything else. We’ll talk about it if you want. I’ll get you some coffee.”
She went toward a coffee machine situated on one of the tables in the closest common room. I stayed on my chair, watched her select a mug, put a filter in the machine, and fill up the grounds. She pressed the button, and as she watched it brew, a weird memory surfaced in my mind. Jules and Brax had stood alone in that converted classroom, talking. About what? Those two were like night and day.
This was my chance to get to the bottom of it.
She came back with the cup in her hands and transferred it to me. “Careful, it’s hot.” She’d stuck a stirrer in the liquid, although traces cream and sugar on top indicated I should stir it.
“Thanks,” I said. “I decided what I want to talk about.”
“Oh yeah?” She beamed. “See? I knew you could do it.”
“What were you and Brax discussing in that room?” The bluntness was calculated to catch her off guard, to make her slip and show her hand. I knew Jules better than I’d known myself for a long time. Public defender or not, if she thought she could keep a secret from me, she was sorely mistaken.
“What?” The shock manifested clearly on her face for a split second before she managed to mask it.
“I saw you,” I pressed. “You left before I could get in there and ask you what was up.”
Jules hesitated and pressed her lips together. “That’s private,” she said at long last.
Her response shocked me. “What? Jules, I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve said that to me in your life. And now you’re having private conversations with a demon?” I paused for emphasis. “You know that’s what he is, right?”
“I know that.” Her exasperated tone of voice suggested that she had expected this type of reaction. “He told me himself. He’s been very forthright.” She folded her arms. “You’ve spoken with him more than I have. You should know.”
“I don’t speak to him in private anywhere, let alone in dimly lit side rooms,” I insisted. “What’s going on here, Jules? Whatever it is, you don’t have to hide it from me.”
She gave me a skeptical once-over. “You’re literally judging me as you say that,” she said.
“I have never judged you, ever.” I crossed my finger over the left side of my chest. “Cross my heart.” She said nothing. “We’re best friends, Jules. You can’t leave me hanging like this.”
The moment she opened her mouth to respond, the radio room door banged open and stopped us both. Luis stuck his head into the hallway. He looked tired, frazzled, and exhilarated.
“Boom, baby!” he yelled. “This radio station is open for business.”
Chapter Eight
I stampeded into the room and left Jules in the corridor. Everyone crowded around the radio’s crudely repaired casing. Circuitry and wiring still showed through gaps and a constant buzz of static emitted from the speaker. Marge was at the tuner and turned the dial with her skinny fingers, her head cocked to the side. Dan and his men stepped aside to make space for me beside her.
“This is awesome,” I told her. “Thank you so, so much.”
She smiled without taking her eyes off the display. “Oh, it was nothing, dear. You went to all that trouble to get me my things. The least I could do was use them. Here.” She pushed her chair back. “You take over. I figure you must know what you’re looking for better than I do.”
“Uh, yeah.” I stepped in front of the device and looked at the dials. “This thing will broadcast to other radios, won’t it?”
“If they have a receiver, I don’t see why not,” said Marge.
My next question was the one that made me really nervous. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask while the radio was broken—I’d simply taken it for granted. “And how far will the signal go?”
“Hmm.” She scratched her chin. “Well, this is shortwave radio we’re talking about, which means skywave propagation. And it’s a good one, military grade…” She faded off into indistinct mumbling about digital modes and finally returned. “I suppose you could hear overseas with it if you wanted to.”
My heart jumped. “That’s more than enough. I was worried about reaching California.”
She barked a laugh. “California on this baby? Easy as pie. We might even be able to do it right now.” She scooted in and manned the dials. “Assuming whoever you’re trying to reach is listening, that is. The sun’s not awake over there yet.”
I cleared my throat. “Um, speaking of that, I’m sorry to have kept you up all night. I didn’t know it would take this long.”
She flapped a hand at me. “It’s been years since I’ve had this kind of mental stimulation. If it takes me to an early grave, so be it.”
The numbers on the digital readout cycled back and forth and the pitch of the static undulated. At moments of dead air, Marge stopped turning and picked up the microphone. “Hello?” she called. “Anyone out there?”
Five minutes stretched into ten, fifteen, and twenty. All of us except the old woman with the puffy hair held our breath and waited for a response. My high hopes flagged a little as we approached half an hour with no response.
Then the static skipped. Marge called out again. And a voice eked out from behind the veil of static. “Yes, I read you. It’s not very loud or clear, but I read you.”
“Excellent!” Marge exclaimed jubilantly. “Who is this?”
“My name is N—” The voice cut out, stuttered and returned shakily. �
��Namiko. I’m in California, and I’m trying to—trying to reach s—someone.”
“Namiko!” I practically shouted. I had known—or at least I had hoped—as soon as I saw the radio that I might be able to reach her on it. If anyone in the country had a working radio setup, it was probably her. The validation of my theory left me giddy with happiness and relief. “It’s Vic! I’m here!” I was reasonably positive that the person she was trying to reach was me.
“Whoa,” Namiko said. “No—no way. It finally worked.”
“Finally?” I leaned forward. The static was so thick she was barely audible. “You’ve been trying to get through?”
“Only every day for—five weeks,” she said. “Almost twenty-four-seven. I didn’t even know if it was possible, but I guess it paid off.” The static swelled briefly. “Listen, I don’t—time to chat. We’re not in the safest place, and we do what we can during the daylight, before the—comes out. I have to get going soon.”
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. Give me the quick rundown. How are things on the West Coast?”
“Could be better, could be worse,” she said. “On the—hand, there are gods all the hell over the place, and they—not friendly. On the other, I’m linked up with a citizens’ resistance—now, and we’re getting shit done. When—can, anyway.”
“Us too, sort of,” I replied. “We’re holed up in a fort with a big group, but I don’t know how long it’ll last.”
“Groups are—all over the place,” Namiko continued. “We’re trying to band together to fight the gods. I’ve established a communications hub where I am so I can try to keep everyone updated. Leave your radio tuned to this frequency, okay? I broadcast every night when we’re battened down.”
“Do you know what gods are out there with you?” I asked.
“Not—much. Whoever it is, they’ve taken over a huge part of the Pacific Northwest. You know anything about Olympic National—”
“National what?” I leaned even closer as if that would help. Marge twisted the dial a fraction of an inch, and Namiko’s garbled voice became slightly clearer.