King Bullet

by Richard Kadrey

  The Dreamers used to work out of a secret site in Hollywood—the power spot for most of the country’s collective unconscious—but a year or so ago they moved to a new facility after their Hollywood home was destroyed by a quake that none of them even saw coming.

  The Dreamers are reality stabilizers. Their thoughts and visualizations hold the fabric of our existence together. Without them, humanity’s seething fears and desires could rip apart what we think of as the waking world. If Cole is right and the Dreamers are dying off, King Bullet might not be the only thing we have to worry about.

  When I get near the Dreamers’ new digs on Alondra Boulevard I dump the Mercedes in a mini-mall parking lot and go the rest of the way on foot. The building has an intercom system at the front door, but none of the buttons are labeled. I decide to push all of them, but before I can raise my hand the intercom crackles.

  “You can’t come in.”

  It’s a female voice. Young. Very young. Like trick-or-treat young.

  I look around and find a camera looking down at me from over the door.

  “This is important. I’m James Stark. I helped you people once.”

  “I know who you are, but you still can’t come in.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re not wearing a mask.”

  I fumble around in my pocket and slip on She-Ra as fast as I can. Then I look up so the camera can get a good look at me. A moment later the door buzzes and unlocks. I go inside.

  And find myself at the bottom of a long staircase. At the top is a girl. Maybe twelve years old. She’s grown a lot since I last saw her, but I’d know her anywhere. Keitu Brown. The leader and most powerful member of the Dreamers.

  “Hi, Keitu. Look how you’ve grown,” I say, which is stupid because it’s the last thing kids want to hear. I take a couple steps up the stairs, but Keitu holds up her hand.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. No one but Dreamers gets inside anymore.”

  “So the virus really did get to your people?”

  She nods.

  “Badly. Most died. Some became—unstable. We can’t afford to take any chances.”

  I’m down here looking up at a little girl with the weight of existence on her shoulders. Twelve years old going on forty.

  “How many of you are left?” I say.

  “I can’t tell you. Things are unstable enough.”

  “It’s that bad, is it?”

  She nervously plays with a strand of her long brown hair and for a moment she looks her age. When she realizes what she’s doing, she turns all business again.

  “Things we might have prevented before—earthquakes and lightning strikes that lead to million-acre wildfires—get by us now. Understand, we’re not helpless, but we’re not what we once were.”

  “What about the virus? Did you let that in too?”

  “I suppose you could say that, but not the way you mean.”

  “Then how?”

  Keitu looks at her shoes.

  “If you think King Bullet holds any ill will toward us you’re wrong.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” But it’s what I was thinking.

  “I say that because he doesn’t consider us a threat. We’re too weak for him to bother with.”

  I look at her.

  “What you mean is that like the quakes, you didn’t see him or you couldn’t stop him from coming.”

  She touches her hair again.

  “I know what you want, Mr. Stark. You want us to fight him for you.”

  “Not for me. With me.”

  Shaking her head, she says, “That’s not possible. We’re too busy holding what’s left of the city together. But I can give you information that might help.”

  “I’ll take anything you have.”

  “King Bullet isn’t a rogue angel. He isn’t a demon or an escaped Hellion. We don’t know exactly what he is. When we look where he should be, all we see is a void.”

  “Where did he come from?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Did he cause the virus?”

  “No. But he’s the cause of it. It’s not a spell or something he did. It’s who he is. A pestilence. He came to Los Angeles, so the plague came with him.”

  “What would happen if he went away?”

  “So would the virus.”

  For the first time in days, I don’t feel helpless.

  “Great. So all I have to do is get him to leave town.”

  When Keitu frowns it’s not the face of a twelve-year-old girl. It’s haggard and worn.

  “He’s unlikely to do that,” she says. “He’s here through a desperate desire. A deep hunger. Until he’s fed, he won’t ever leave.”

  “Then I’ll either get him what he wants or I’ll kill him.”

  “You’d be better off trying your first idea. We don’t think killing him is an option.”

  I give Keitu a look.

  “Kid, I’ve gotten rid of old gods. I can get rid of this creep.”

  “Good luck. I mean that sincerely. But I have to go now.”

  She starts to walk away, but I yell up to her. I hold up my hands to indicate the world outside the door.

  “What happens to all of that when you’re gone?”

  “Then reality is on its own. Take care, Mr. Stark.”

  “Thanks.”

  I start out of the building.

  “And, Mr. Stark?”

  I look back up at her.

  “Yeah?”

  She smiles.

  “I really like your mask.”

  “Yeah. She’s a lot cooler than He-Man.”

  “Totally.”

  My gut still hurts enough that I’m not ready to take on the entire United States Air Force while looking for the Golden Vigil’s superweapon. Instead, I detour back from Compton to Max Overdrive to fill in Candy and Alessa about Kasabian. Too, I wouldn’t mind seeing them. Well, one more than the other.

  I come out of a shadow in the alley beside the shop, and all of a sudden, it’s like when I first got back to the world in Hollywood Forever—the world is smoke and heat and I feel like I’m on fire.

  I duck my head and run out of the alley and fall down on the sidewalk, my lungs full of smoke. When I look back where I was, I freeze for a moment. My brain can’t accept what I’m seeing.

  Max Overdrive is on fire.

  Hell, it’s more fire than shop now. All that’s left is the front facade and part of the apartment where Candy and I used to live.

  That’s when I really panic. I run back as close to the building as I can and scream, “Candy!”

  I’m trying to think of what fire protection hoodoo I know so I can go inside and look for her when someone yells my name. I look around and see Candy and Alessa crouched by the curb a few houses down. I run over and hug them both. Their faces are streaked with soot and Alessa’s left hand is blackened and badly burned. I whisper one of the only pieces of healing hoodoo I can think of while my brain is screaming at me. A moment later, Alessa is able to move her fingers.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “Allegra can fix the rest,” I tell her.

  She nods and I realize I’m still holding on to Candy’s arm. I let go, feeling ridiculous and awkward, but neither of them seems to notice because we’re all looking back as Max Overdrive drifts away as smoke into the afternoon sky.

  I say, “What happened?” pretty sure I know the answer already.

  “I don’t know exactly,” says Alessa.

  “We were upstairs when we heard a window break,” Candy says. “When we went down, the whole first floor was burning. We jumped out of an upstairs window into the dumpster.”

  “I didn’t think we were going to make it.”

  They hug and Alessa starts to cry. It’s a strange thing to see. I always saw her as so solid and even hard at times, but here she is bawling away while Candy holds her.

  I want to tell them that I know who did this and who will pay for it. I want to say the nam
e King Bullet and tell them this is payback for taking his hand last night, but I can’t. Everything they’d built over the last couple of years, including their home, is gone. I simply don’t have the courage to tell them that this might be partly my fault. So, I keep my mouth shut about that and, instead, tell them that Kasabian is all right and at my place.

  Candy looks at me.

  “Kasabian isn’t going to handle this well.”

  “He’s flat on his back on my sofa. There’s no reason he needs to know for a while.”

  I hear sirens in the distance heading this way. If it’s the fire department, there’s nothing left for them to save. And if it’s the cops, fuck them. I’ll just disappear. But it’s neither of those.

  A couple of ambulances round the corner and scream to a stop in front of Max Overdrive. I’ve had about enough of crazy ambulances at this point, so I reach in my belt for the Colt—and remember that I left it back at the apartment when I went to see the Dark Eternal. I don’t have the na’at or black blade either. By then it’s too late.

  Eight Shoggots pile out of the ambulances, running straight at us. Candy looks at me and gets what’s happening. She shoves Alessa behind her and goes Jade. Between her and me, we might be able to handle all of these Shoggots long enough to get away.

  But things are never that simple in L.A.

  A low rider pulls up behind us, full of more Shoggot crazies. King Bullet is going for heavy payback and he’s trying to make it very personal. And it looks like he’s going to get his way, because even with Candy gone Jade and me with my Gladius, I don’t know if we can hold off the sheer number of lunatics.

  Then I remember something. Something I didn’t need, but still have. I feel around in my pocket until I find Samael’s pyx. Pull out the Host and bite it in half. As I manifest my Gladius, he appears across the street, behind the ambulance of Shoggots. Candy lets out a Jade howl and leaps at the closest crazies. I follow her right in. Across the street, Samael manifests his two Gladii and begins ripping his way into the mass of Shoggots.

  They come at us with knives, axes, and guns. We take out the shooters first. Me and Samael aim for their arms and heads, while Candy goes for their throats. A tall Shoggot with a glass eye all askew comes down at my head with an ax. I split him in two with the Gladius and shove the ax into another Shoggot’s head. Candy, all teeth and claws, disembowels a Shoggot who tried to get to Alessa. Samael . . . the fucker must have massacred ten Shoggots by himself, all without breaking a sweat.

  Between the three of us, we take down all the Shoggots just in time for the fire department. That usually means cops aren’t far behind, so I grab everybody and drag them into a shadow.

  We come out into the apartment, which is starting to get a little crowded. Still, everybody is safe and accounted for. Everybody except one. I call Carlos from the kitchen, but it takes him a while to answer.

  When he finally picks up, I say, “Are you all right? Get away from the bar.”

  “I’m at the bar, man,” he says. “Some crazy motherfucker in a truck tried to throw a Molotov cocktail through the window.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I shot his donkey ass and he took off out of here. What the fuck is going on?”

  “I hurt King Bullet bad last night and now he’s taking it out on everybody I know. He’s already burned Max Overdrive.”

  “What? No.”

  “He might make another play for your place. You and Ray should come to the apartment. You’ll be safe here.”

  “I don’t know, man. I think I’d rather be here in case those pricks come back.”

  “If they come back, it’s not going to be a guy in a truck. It’s going to be an army with pitchforks and torches. Please. Get out of there.”

  “If you’re so sure.”

  “You’ll come to the apartment?”

  “I hate hiding out. I’m not helpless. I know you have a plan. Let me help.”

  “You don’t want to.”

  “Tell me what it is and I’ll tell you if I want to.”

  “Me and Samael are going to break into Edwards Air Force Base.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to help with that. I’ll get Ray and come over.”

  “Make it fast.”

  “Do you have any food in that dungeon of yours?”

  “We have about ninety pizzas.”

  “That’s what I thought. I’ll bring some people food too.”

  “Thanks.”

  I go into the living room, where every piece of furniture is full, and Brigitte and Fuck Hollywood are sitting on the floor. They look a little like kids at the saddest birthday party in history. Samael leans against the wall and Allegra comes over to examine Alessa’s hand. Candy sits down by Brigitte.

  “Oh good. More people,” says Kasabian. “Are you going to move in bunk beds or are we supposed to sleep hanging from the ceiling like bats?”

  I go over to where he’s sitting on the sofa.

  “It’s nice the way you have your arm propped on that pillow. You know, you’re taking up enough room for two people.”

  He shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

  “I have an affliction.”

  “If it’s too cozy here for you, I can take you to the Beverly Wilshire. I bet they have a lot of vacancies these days.”

  “Okay. Okay. You made your point,” he says. “But seriously, are we supposed to camp out here like rats in the wall until the virus is gone?”

  “No. Just until I get rid of King Bullet.”

  “How long is that going to take?”

  “With Samael’s help, it’ll be a lot faster than before.”

  Samael raises his eyebrows slightly. “Oh good. Someone noticed I’m here. I feel so warm and welcome.”

  “Calm down,” I say. “You’re going to love what I have planned for you and me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The stupidest thing I’ve ever done. We’re going to break into a high-security military base and steal a weapon I know nothing about and hope we live long enough to use it on King Bullet.”

  He smiles and says, “I love everything about this. It really is a very stupid idea. When are we hatching this master plan of yours?”

  “We’ll go tonight. I can shadow walk us onto the base and into the bunker. Then we just have to find the right crate, hope it weighs less than a Camaro, and get out before the alarms go off and we have the entire base shooting at us.”

  “That would be nice. This is a new suit.”

  “You always have a new suit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the same suit twice.”

  “Of course you have. A couple of years ago. When I was in town working on a movie and you were my valet.”

  “You were a valet?” says Janet.

  “No. I was his bodyguard.”

  “Still,” says Samael. “I remember you fetching me clothes.”

  “I also stabbed you and left you for dead. Remember that?”

  “Well, I didn’t say you were a good valet.”

  “Stark?” says Fuck Hollywood. “Who’s your hot and kind of scary friend? He doesn’t exactly look like the kind of people you usually hang out with.”

  Samael crosses the room in two strides and holds out his hand to her. “Hello, my dear. I’m Samael.”

  “Hi. I’m—”

  “Don’t tell him your name,” says Kasabian. “He’s the Devil.”

  “He’s what?”

  I give Kasabian a look and tell Fuck Hollywood, “That’s an exaggeration. He isn’t the Devil.”

  “Not for years,” says Samael. “In fact, our boy Stark here was old Nick more recently than I was.”

  She looks at me. “Stark?”

  I pull Samael away from her, saying, “It’s a long, dumb story. I wasn’t Lucifer for very long at all.”

  Alessa looks up from where Allegra is bandaging her hand.

  “Stark’s the Devil?” she says. “That explains a lot of things.” She
frowns at Candy and says, “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

  I shout, “I’m not the Devil. I was—briefly—but only on a technicality.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” says Samael. “Hell was much more of a franchise operation in those days.”

  Alessa says, “I don’t know if I’m comfortable here anymore.”

  Candy takes her good hand and says, “It’s okay. Really. It’s even a little funny. Right, Stark?”

  I think back on the hundred days I was Lucifer and lie. “Yeah. Some of it. Sure.”

  “Tell us all about it,” says Fuck Hollywood.

  “It’s a long story.”

  She looks out the window.

  “It’s the afternoon. You’re not going anywhere until tonight.”

  “She has you there,” says Janet.

  “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “I am. But it’s crowded in here and we’re all tired. I think we could do with a good yarn.”

  I can tell I’m cornered.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

  Samael chuckles quietly to himself as Fuck Hollywood shouts, “Wait.”

  She opens a pizza box, takes out a cold slice, and looks at me.

  “Begin.”

  Around ten in the evening, I steal a panel van and me and Samael take a bumpy ride ninety minutes north to Edwards Air Force Base. We leave the van about a mile away from the base and Samael does some location hoodoo to find the right hangar. It’s not that he’s better at that kind of thing than I am, but he’s always more convincing about it, which is a little annoying. He comes up with an isolated hangar in the northeast part of the base. We put on glamours we hope make us look enough like air force personnel and I shadow walk us in as close to the hangar as I can without ever having seen the layout of the base.

  I bring us out in the middle of a group of parked trucks so we can look around without being seen. It doesn’t take long to spot the hangar. It doesn’t look like much from the outside. No guards, but it’s surrounded by a high fence topped with razor wire, along with a lot of warning signs. A lot of signs. Angry-looking signs. It’s a good thing we’re ignoring them or I’d be intimidated. But something occurs to me.

  “I didn’t think of it before, but aren’t they going to have all kinds of alarms inside? Like thermal sensors or motion detectors?” I say. “I don’t think I can hide us from that.”