The Good Death Box Set: A Hard SciFi Science Fiction Series

by Doug McGovern

  Jane stepped back, putting up a disengaging fence with the blade. It looked like a pirate’s retreat and made Leona giggle.

  “Strike two! Your serenity in the face of certain disaster is another sign that you could be a little mad.” Leona mimicked Jane’s theatrical behavior. She skipped like a court jester from the Middle Ages. Jane brought herself into check. She was losing her temper and that would trip her up in physical combat. She remembered that from Dad’s training long ago.

  “I’d think a nutcase like you would have definitely read Alice in Wonderland at some point. Haven’t you heard? We’re all a little mad here, missy.” Jane decided to send this idea to Hell along with everything and everyone else she’d ever known. She would play Leona’s game. She’d won before, hadn’t she?

  “Bravo! There’s my Andromeda back to steal the finale! There’s the spirit I need to undo all that I’ve done!” Leona snapped her fingers, spinning with a ballerina’s flourish and making crosscuts on Jane’s face.

  “What?” Jane shielded her face, feeling a faint scratch appear at the edges of her lips. She hoped Dexter wouldn’t make good on his threat and do something reckless. Leona might be batty but she was still the most formidable foe they faced, forgetting all that Professor Lucia claimed about himself.

  “No, you heard right. I am the one who created this system, this empire. It was not the Fultons, it was not Dante. It wasn’t the successful serum. Kingsley can blame himself, but even he is not responsible for it all. The key to my release always lay in my infatuation with my own madness. Lucia didn’t have the right to take that all away from me and claim he was the man pulling the strings. Why, it’s plagiarism, blasphemy, rape of my ultimate womanhood! I am the monster and goddess combined. I am Medusa! I built this world and I alone shall tear it down. If you won’t help me, then you are still my enemy.” Leona cut upward in EKG lines, anger accelerating. Jane dug in her heels, twisting her hip to throw her whole weight into her counter-strikes.

  “You haven’t been paying attention, chica! I have always been and I will always be your enemy.” Jane spat in the wake of Leona’s dancing feet. The She-Hitler was reduced to looking like a German cartoon of Krampus, tramping about with high ferocious steps in a drenched wedding gown. Jane laughed. She was ridiculous.

  “Embrace our destruction for the sake of your loved ones dear. Consider that I influence directly the course of their Eternity. I am offering them clemency. You can spare them from living in a hell of my creation the system of which will be pirated and raped repeatedly for all of time by Lucia. This is no cost to you, really. Yes, I am jeopardizing your very existence, but you would have done that anyway, reckless fool.” Leona grinned, driving her sword into the ground. She put her hands up in a truce.

  Jane paused. She couldn’t argue with this. No matter how badly she might want to, she couldn’t argue with this offer. Even if it cost her sentient life force, Jane would always sacrifice herself if her loved ones needed her too. Leona had foiled her by playing the only card that worked. She’d made her face who she truly was.

  “What do you need me to do? To save them?” Jane stuck her sword in the ground but left her hand on the hilt. She was listening with an open mind now, despite feeling bile rising in her throat.

  “To play Andromeda, one last time. To act as my diversion.” Leona stepped forward, hands behind her back. She weighed each word. One wrong move could ruin her chances of persuading Jane that this was the only way.

  “Essentially not telling the others by not allowing them to be present is lying. You want me to deceive them into thinking they have some part to play in all of this when they’re really still your hostages and this is still your game.” Jane spat in Leona’s face this time. With a longsuffering air, Leona dabbed the spit on her sleeve. She giggled.

  “Wonderful, Pinocchio! You spotted your strings much sooner than I anticipated.” Leona applauded.

  “You’re wrong. No strings on me anymore. You created this Hell. I can only assume it’s full of your demons. Your demons are my angels and I will call on them if I have to.” Jane took a step forward. Her shoulders were squared. She didn’t need the sword. She’d cut through Leona’s pomp with her words, moving like a tiger overshadowing its victim. Leona put her hands up defensively.

  “Come, we were agreeing for once. Jane…Listen to reason. You aren’t being asked to do what you wouldn’t do already. Follow me. We’ll leave them behind at a safe place. You can play your part the same as you’ve always done. There can be order in the universe.” Leona cleared her throat. Jane would come over to her side. She knew it.

  “I’ll think about it.” Jane looked up in Dexter’s direction. She couldn’t lie to him. She could not betray his trust after what he’d done for her. But how would she tell him what She-Hitler’s plan was shaping up to be?

  *****

  Chapter 12

  Ethan Boothe led the soldiers up an elevator shaft. The walls were so slicked with motor oil that human bodies had fallen and stuck there, suspended in burnt orange and black crystal like flies in tree’s amber. The horror on their faces was perfectly preserved just as they had died. It was a loud warning to go back. Yet if there was even the slightest chance that Ethan’s plan could work, they would have to brave whatever came at the end of their climb.

  “Anybody ever tried to go for this Golden Fleece or whatever you called it since you’ve been here?” Derek tried to make conversation with their mysterious new companion. Ethan cut him a harsh look. A mistrustful look like he wasn’t certain whether he should trust this hybrid elixir to the likes of Derek. He smiled at last. Whatever he really thought about Captain Matheson and Sergeant Manson personally didn’t matter. He still needed their help.

  “Nobody that I know has ever been fool enough to try it. Not from the gallery below anyway. Your dad, Leaf, he’s tried to buy it loads of times. So has the other members of the Fulton Order’s modern cabinet. It’s no cost to them. They buy and sell Gladiators. That Brett Lewis kid, he’s the one who does all the exchanges down here, yeah? They buy them and send them off to Dante’s Cage. That guy…He fights them. The best of them make their way through the Gauntlet so to speak. They keep that freaking sheep as the living trophy for the last trial. Nobody’s ever climbed that deep into the Rock, though, right?” Ethan grinned, pressing another cigar between his teeth. He swung back and forth off a stray cable, pushing himself to a shard of molten iron that had fallen from above so he could light it.

  Leaf looked up, blood pouring from his bottom lip.

  “Wait, I got it. That’s your master plan, right? You want to make our way into Gladiator lottery and let us contend for the prize. When they come to collect it for my dad or Buchanan or Fulton, whoever buys out, we’ll fight them back.” Leaf shook his head. The plan was totally genius.

  “Oh, well, see this is the catch. You boys have to understand. One guy buys one of you and one buys the other. I can’t go in the ring. Somebody will have to work these shaft systems, plan the escape route, yeah?” Ethan’s smile was menacing. Leaf paused, weighing his words. Derek craned his neck to look at Leaf and then looked back at Ethan.

  “Right, so we have to tear into each other like your general slaughterhouse, huh? No problem. We’ve been put to it before. I’ve got enough faith in him that if he tears me to pieces he’ll put me back together. We’ve got to get something straight, though, man. If we’re going to do this thing, we’re going to have to establish some trust, yeah? Soldiers are pack animals.” Derek nodded. He patted Leaf’s thigh. The guy was melting against him, bleeding out. He coughed and shook his head. Ethan gaped at them, weighing their bond. It was strong enough that nukes couldn’t touch it. They’d proved that to the world in Washington when the gaps between dimensions had opened and they’d sealed them shut again.

  “So you guys are okay with ripping the bones right out of each other up there. Totally taking my word for this. How do you know that I didn’t just prank you? I could be leading yo
u to their entertainment with this story just for kicks, right? How do you expect me to trust two BFF guys that are so chill with going hand to hand on each other? Some friends!” Ethan rubbed a hand over his mouth. It was a good question. Derek couldn’t argue that.

  “You obviously don’t know us. He can pulverize me but it’s not like it’ll break me. I can shake it off, man.” Leaf popped his knuckles. He was ready.

  Ethan looked stunned.

  “Come clean. We’re putting ourselves on the line for your plan, man. Can you trust us like we’re trusting you? What are you really in this for anyway?” Derek tilted his head to the side. They wouldn’t have a chance to ask again. Already, the screams and carousing of Dante’s Rings were drowning out the last of their sane thoughts.

  “Okay, what the hell…” Ethan dangled from the roof, letting the smoke plume back on his nose. He eyed them curiously, grinning.

  “Love of my life, KC. That’s short for Kayla Carver, FYI. Anyhow, they’ve got her. Never been able to find out where, but she’s stuck down here. If I get to their prize, I can buy back this joint. We can flush this place, talking full on septic scrub. My angel will come out in the wash. Her colors don’t run either. You can count on it.” He gave a fierce nod and yanked a chain. Derek and Leaf were propelled into a white light.

  They rose to a white circle of polished marble, in a dojo setting wrapped with brass piping and iron cages. Derek knew what happened next. He let Leaf climb off his shoulders and the two rose to standing face to face. Leaf smiled and winked like this was every day’s business.

  “Well look what the devil drug in. Whew, lord.” A voice spoke from high above them, seated in a ratty nest of chains. A body sailed down from them landing on the cage’s top. He was naked, painted golden, holding two Molotov cocktails and a cigar in his teeth.

  Swinging by his feet like a trapeze artist, the man spun his way into the cage. He was now standing directly between Derek and Leaf, keeping them divided. The arena had hushed to near silence.

  The man smashed the Molotov cocktails on the floor at the foot of each soldier. This was a test for every Gladiator they gathered.

  “You can tell the weak ones by those who flinch at flames. The ones that cry like little hoes when they get singed are the ones I don’t waste fights on. I feed them to my dogs instead.” The man stood unabashed in his golden nakedness. He drank in his cigar and studied each soldier. Finally, he jabbed a finger at Leaf.

  “You…I know you. You’re the one the way of the world lit on fire. That’s why you kinda like the way this hurts, don’t cha? Fire…even blazing, gnawing, hacking flames…You’ve got the itch, boy. I see it in your eyes.” The man paced in circles until he came to a standstill in front of Leaf. He smiled at him almost affectionately and hissed with laughter.

  “Hiya, I’m Dante by the way. You’re Cyrus Manson’s boy, am I right? Manson’s little runt and the Shreveport boy-scout.” Dante cut a look across at Derek. Derek stood with his hands folded behind his back, waiting for the inevitable. The crowds were growing restless in the wings. It wouldn’t be long before they were baying for blood.

  “Recognize me, do ya? Yeah, we’ve met before. Little piece of me was stuck in that beast of burden Geryon thing the She-Hitler kept locked up like Captain Nemo’s talking parrot.” Dante paused, glaring deep into Leaf’s eyes. He noticed the blood spilling over his chin. He dipped his finger in it and spread it on his tongue, laughing, lapping it for good measure.

  “Ah! Yes, your veins are smoky, champ! Well-seasoned…You’re the horse I’m betting on. Sorry for your friend, but he’s a bit doe-eyed. I hate them when they’re doe-eyed, yeah? Makes it all sappy when they die screaming, big tears in those peepers. His are green too. Spring green fever!” Dante turned to critique Derek. Derek didn’t move. The eyes that were described found their way to Leaf’s and would not look away.

  Dante cleared his throat. He reached to the edge of the cage and picked up a large iron post.

  “Right. Well, you know who I am. The grand shaman around these parts. I know who you are. The buyers will be here any minute now, my friends. It was amiable what you did in Washington, FYI. Standing up for your beliefs and all that fun stuff. Sad to think that all it amounted to was deporting them back to the home they’d already owned timeshares in for years…” Dante studied the ground with soft laughter. He swung the iron post around, breaking Leaf’s legs out from under him. The Sergeant groaned and fell to his knees, coughing up more blood in his pain.

  “What? I thought he was the horse you were betting on?” Derek had to consciously restrain every fibrous substance of his body to keep from acting foolishly. He couldn’t risk jeopardizing their chances now, with all the people whose welfare was at stake here.

  “He is. I just like to make things a bit more interesting for my guests. Something you should know about me, in case you’ve forgotten all the stories. I was and am, first and foremost, an entertainer.” Dante swung the post under Derek’s legs. They buckled, breaking in infinite places. Derek’s mouth foamed spit and he ducked his head, to hide his eyes that marked him as a weak target in the psychopath’s mind.

  “You see, there are no free rides, gentlemen. I shall dispense with the old saying that all is fair in love and war. It simply isn’t true. However, there is one thing I hold to be a self-evident truth. A man fights on his absolute skill level when he’s got something broken in him. I’ve raised your stakes. Now either you’ll pull through all the odds and be the contenders, thus earning my prize and tipping this whole bowl of vomit on its head at last. Or I bury you with the stakes I raised. You decide. Take your time, gentlemen, as long as you’re quick about it. See, your buyers are coming along. They like to sample before they choose. No worries, boys. You’ll adapt to our laws rather quickly when you hear them.” Dante turned back to the court.

  There was a grand entrance. A classical band played a violin concerto to the swelling applause of the stadium. There was a loud raucous of shouts and protest, as several guards dressed like Nazi snipers led Jessop Riveaulx and all the Altered Children through the doors and into the docket.

  “They’re sending those kids down here, eh? It’s going to a bloodbath amongst teammates.” Derek talked around the bile rising in his mouth, speech slurred.

  Leaf nodded, eyes filled with compassion.

  “Hey…Listen, man. I’ve got a feeling they just want to see us trash each other. Probably get points just for the blood we spill, alright? Make quick work of me. I’m already messed up all over. Hell, I won’t hit you back.” Leaf swallowed.

  Derek felt like crying. He’d be a crow’s meat if he did that in front of these people, sans regard for his own machismo honor code.

  “You know I can’t do that, buddy. We’ve got to do this unspeakable thing, yeah? While they can’t hear this, let me say. I love you, man. Whatever I do to you, I don’t mean any of it. You’ve got to give it right back to me, or I’ll never forgive myself. You understand?” Derek nodded. Leaf’s eyes were the only thing that was grounding him to this scene. He had always been his center of gravity when it came to doing impossible things.

  “Yeah, okay. You know it’s the same for me, man. We are brothers. Maybe not literally but this is like self-mutilation in that, like my brother, you’ve become my flesh and bone.” Leaf eased himself up, posing his fists. Cyrus Manson’s voice cut in over a loudspeaker.

  “This is exactly where I expected my worthless rat of a kid to end up. In the belly of Hell’s fight club, trying to take a shot at the title of redemption life. Pathetic.” Manson’s entrance hushed the stadium a second time. Now the bids would begin. All the final cards were on the table. The Fulton Empire would finally be understood in full, just by watching how their private commerce worked in the market room.

  *****

  Chapter 13

  “So, this is the sweatshop you geeks punched time in all those days you were down for the dirt nap, huh?” Reilly paused at the threshold of Athena’s R
ings.

  Croc stowed the bikes against a wall. Taylor and Timlin knelt over a pile of cigarette ashes, sketching a primitive map with the end of Kendra’s pen.

  “Taking the guy hostage will be no easy feat. Dante is a hands-on kind of guy. He’ll follow his next run of Gladiators straight through their rings. If we want to get to him, we’ll have to go through Hell. Oh, and trust me…This guy is good at encryption. More layers to Keith Fulton’s asylum than there are strands of DNA keeping your boney remnant operable.” Timlin sketched out little stationary columns in the map’s body. Taylor grabbed his jaw, studying each portion of the map with a painful, scrunched brow expression.

  “Got that one right, kiddo. But you can hack into his databases, right? Anything that’s confidential that he’s got on his records…You can wipe those books? Give President Matthews here a nice clean slate to send his call out from, yeah?” Taylor eyed the President. He knew he wasn’t worthy but America’s future livelihood was still in question with its chief executive now slow roasting in hell.

  “That’s what I live for, man. Agent Timlin reporting for duty.” Timlin saluted, with a wink.

  “Trying to work me a redemption without my consent isn’t really a redemption at all, is it?” Matthews hung back, huffing through his nostrils. Lindsey hurled a stone at the back of his head. Ivy laughed and they high-fived.

  “You don’t deserve anything short of death row. That’s how they prosecuted treason in the good ole days, eh?” Ivy spat on the ground. Reilly crept back in from the balcony. She and Ivy exchanged a long glance. Ivy hopped to her feet.