Hard Corps (Quentin Case Book 2)

by John Hook

  First, you must never talk about anything you had seen outside of Haven before you got here. Yes, they really did call this place Haven.

  Second, you could leave, but not without consulting the shirks and getting permission from the Baron. It seems he was in charge of this project. We were eagerly assured this was to keep track of things and that many people had left and that no one had been stopped. The mayor did not hint at why anyone would leave such a wonderful place.

  Third, you must not inflict harm on or steal from another in Haven. If you were in conflict with another, you would report it to the mayor and an attempt would be made to mediate. If that failed, one or the other would be relocated.

  Other than these three rules, we were free to live a life without demons and generally avoiding the more miserable aspects of this horrible place. Apparently.

  “Is it just me or is this place flat out spooky?” Izzy finally said.

  “Yeah. It’s like being in a gated community and being cut off from the world. Except I keep waiting for the punch line. There is something really wrong here.”

  “Why would they have a place like this?” Blaise asked.

  “That’s what I can’t figure out.”

  “So why are we here?”

  “I assume because we are still looking for Philip.” Izzy looked at me.

  Blaise studied me. “You’re really like a dog with a bone.”

  Izzy laughed.

  “Philip was here. Others must know him. Maybe we can find out why he left and where he might have gone to.”

  “I’m kind of wondering about that,” Izzy mused.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Given the rule that you can’t leave without permission, why wouldn’t he have brought Anita with him?”

  “I’m guessing for the same reason we feel uneasy.”

  “He needed to make sure it wasn’t a scam.” Izzy nodded.

  “If he was that suspicious, why would he have thought it wasn’t a scam?” Blaise motioned around the room. “We think it’s a scam.”

  “The profile.” I answered.

  “Ah, yes. Hopeful, but desperate.”

  “We’re neither.” I winked.

  “We figure we want something out of Hell, have to make it happen ourselves.”

  “At least until they pull out that big magical can of whoop-ass we’ve been waiting for.”

  “I’m still betting on you.” Blaise leaned back into the couch.

  “Let’s go out and do some exploring” I got up.

  “Good. I was getting bored again.”

  Haven was maybe a little bigger than Rockvale, but better kept. There were signs that people took some pride in their homes, with handmade decorations that might be as simple as a pile of rounded stones in the garden. I use the term “garden” loosely. Mostly only weedy plants seemed to grow in this world, but some of them did flower.

  We first walked around the periphery of the village. There appeared to be only one way in or out. As we had observed when we arrived, the village was sunk into a hollowed-out crater at the top of a hill. It was hard to determine whether the hollowing out was natural or not, but it meant that there was effectively an earth and rock wall around the town. Against the wall at the very back of the village was a surprisingly well cultivated park. It had some weedy grass, but it looked planned and trimmed. There was also a running track that formed an oval around a crude baseball diamond.

  Izzy laughed when he saw the baseball diamond.

  “Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble. The payoff can’t be good.”

  Behind the park, butted up against the wall, was a low, square building. There were several shirks gathered in front. They were cordial if not exactly excited to see us when we approached. When we asked what was in the building, they invited us to have a look and wandered off.

  Inside the building there was nothing but crude tools. They looked like they might be used for gardening in the park. There were no windows, no doors except the one in front that we came in, and no exits through the wall. Other than one table with the tools, there was nothing inside. It was a big, empty, dimly lit space.

  We left, walked through the park and made our way through the neighborhood streets. People were friendly and greeted us cheerily. They would say things like what a great day it was. These weren’t the usual dulled or traumatized people we almost always encountered in Hell. They also weren’t angry or brooding. They had glamours with expensive looking, comfortable, colorful clothes. They looked like they took care of themselves. They looked genuinely happy. They were also more cosmopolitan than I was used to seeing. White, Black, Asian, Hispanic, Mediterranean, you name it, and many variations within those. That suggested that these people had been collected from widely disbursed locations, as so far I had not seen a lot of diversity in Hell. Then again, I had no idea what the basis for the sorting of souls—if that’s what we were—to destinations might be.

  As we came back in to the center of town we found a diner. The food was likely illusory, but it did smell good. The diner was about half full. We decided to go in. There were three stools at the counter and we took them. I could sense everyone looking at us, but it didn’t seem unfriendly. They were curious. A waitress came over and set down a plate of food for us to share. She appeared as someone in her early thirties, dark hair pulled back into a bun, in a casual cream-colored blouse and black slacks. Since what people wore were part of their glamours, no one had added the touch to this place of waitress uniforms.

  The food was mostly real, which made it not all that exciting. Saripha, who had to have real food, had shown me some of the things you could do with edible plant life here, but I was glad I didn’t need it to subsist. It struck me that this deli was more of a gathering place than a place where people came to remember their appetites. The food, mostly of the finger food variety, was just to grease the conversation.

  “I’ll have a coffee, cream and sugar please.”

  The waitress furrowed her brow. Then she realized I was pulling her leg. She shook her head and came back with a steaming pot of sweet grass tea.

  “I don’t know why they can’t figure out coffee here. They don’t even seem to be able to get a glamour of it.”

  “There’s a reason we call this place Hell.” Izzy, who was more of a tea drinker, poured himself a cup.

  I caught a man sitting just around the curve of the counter from us trying to look at us without getting caught. He was an older man. He had lightly gray hair and was well-muscled and tanned. In life, he must have seen a good deal of outdoor work. I waited for one of his glances over and met his eyes. He blanched, but he didn’t look away. I gave him a wide smile and stuck out my hand.

  “Hi, there, neighbor. My name’s Quentin.”

  I thought of not advertising the name, but I decided I would just slip up if I tried to do that.

  “Oh, yes, I’m sorry. Hello.” The man reached over. His expression was shy but his grip was strong. “I’m Dieter. You folks are new here. Sorry for staring.”

  He looked at Izzy and Blaise. Both shook hands and said who they were.

  Another man at the counter spoke up. “We don’t usually see three at once. Word must be getting out about this place.”

  “What is this place, exactly?”

  Dieter shrugged. “We don’t know.”

  “I think it’s maybe like purgatory,” one younger looking man said eagerly. “It’s like we are the ones that weren’t completely bad enough to be here, so they are looking at us and maybe we get to go on. You know. To the better place.”

  Dieter rolled his eyes. “Some of the—well, more religious amongst us have all sorts of theories. We really don’t know.”

  “What do you think, Dieter?”

  “We aren’t allowed to talk about our experiences before this. I will just say that I am happy to be here rather than someplace else. Beyond that, I don’t care.”

  “I saw an angel once. Up in the sky,” the ent
husiastic young man blurted out. Several people waved him off.

  “What did the angel look like?” I asked. The question surprised the people I could see at the counter.

  “You don’t seriously think…” Dieter hesitated.

  “I am often surprised by things in this place. I have learned to pay attention to everything.”

  “You are no doubt wise. I prefer to pay attention to nothing and just live day to day.”

  “It’s like being one of the mass without the trauma,” Izzy whispered.

  I looked at the young man who still wasn’t sure I was serious. “Go on.”

  He shuffled nervously. I suspected he had suffered some ridicule for his claims.

  “Well, I couldn’t see much. She was pretty high up in the sky. She seemed so beautiful. She had golden hair and big white wings and her dress was golden, but it was like you could almost see through it.” That got a round of laughter and snickers from the room.

  “Hey, stop. It wasn’t like that. I’m just saying, the angels are watching.”

  Blaise was studying me, obviously curious about my interest in this angel. I would fill him in later. I had run into one of these angels and there was nothing sweet about them. Something else Guido didn’t want to tell me much about.

  I returned to addressing Dieter. “How do most people learn of this place?”

  “I think it’s different for everyone. Every so often you pick up on a rumor. And when things are bad enough…” Dieter winced and something dark passed through his eyes. “…you grab at anything.”

  “Yes,” Blaise said very quietly. “That’s what they would be looking for. The ones who grab.”

  If Dieter heard Blaise, I saw no indication of it.

  “How did you come here?” Dieter asked.

  “I actually came looking for a friend of mine who came here. His name was Philip.”

  “Ah, Philip.” Dieter looked a little troubled.

  “You remember him?”

  “He was here briefly. It was a mismatch.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have observed very few couples in this world, but he was apparently quite devoted to his wife. I’m guessing they must have somehow died together.”

  “Yes, he wanted to bring her here, I believe.”

  “Well, yes, exactly. He thought to come here and see it for himself first. He didn’t realize they would not let him return to get her.”

  “You don’t get to leave here?”

  “You can go, apparently, to other such communities and every so often they may transfer you there. However, it is one thing to have rumors floating around in the outside world. It is another to have witnesses with certain knowledge of the community out there. We would be flooded.”

  “But why?” Izzy asked.

  “I’m sorry, why what?” Dieter turned to Izzy.

  “Why would they have these to begin with?”

  Dieter thought for a moment.

  “You are quite right. Unless you have some sort of supernatural and therefore irrational explanation like our young friend over there, it doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

  “But you don’t let that bother you?” I added.

  “No, frankly, I don’t. It is what it is and as long as it lasts it is better than anything else I have seen.”

  “Afraid I can’t just sit back and accept things here. Probably make life a whole lot easier if I could.”

  “Then you are a fool,” Dieter said, though I don’t think he was being unkind.

  “Probably,” I agreed. “So, what happened to Philip?”

  “He agitated things quite a bit. He was becoming a bit of a problem. I hope we aren’t going to have more of the same from you.”

  I gave my best “not little ol’ me” look.

  “Eventually, the powers here seemed to take pity on him. They told him they would transfer him to another community and arrange for his wife to join him.”

  “And he believed them.”

  “He was quite excited.” Dieter shook his head. “He could hardly contain himself. It was quite infectious.”

  “And they took him to the other place.”

  “Well, yes, apparently.”

  “Apparently?”

  “People come and go here all the time. Not just Philip, but they move people to other locations regularly. I suppose they are managing space and it may be to keep too strong a community bond from forming. I really don’t know. The thing is, we see when new people arrive, but we don’t see when they leave.”

  I looked at Dieter. “You don’t find that curious? That you never see people leave?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “But you don’t care.”

  “Caring about anything or anyone in this place is a vulnerability.”

  “Wow, and you aren’t mayor?”

  “I prefer to keep to myself.”

  “So we have no demons. What about the shirks? Why are they here?”

  “I think to keep watch and enforce the rules, although they have been trained to be quite restrained. This is still Hell. We still have no rights. If you can live with that, however, this is the best place to be. You don’t have to enforce the rules much if people don’t want to break them.”

  “I was never good with rules.”

  “I suspected as much. I hope whatever trouble you are up to, it is quickly dealt with.”

  “You sure your name isn’t Paul?”

  We got up and nodded to Dieter and the others,

  “If our friend isn’t here, there isn’t too much trouble we can get into.” Dieter didn’t look entirely convinced. “We’ll try to find out if we can go where he went. If not, this place seems fine.”

  We left the diner with people murmuring behind us. We walked a couple of blocks and stood on a corner.

  “Now what?” Izzy asked.

  “We have a place that makes people happy in the middle of demon inflicted pain and torture. It has a high turnover rate. No one sees anyone leave. What does that sound like to you?”

  “Now it sounds like a turkey farm” Blaise said.

  “About a week before Thanksgiving,” Izzy added.

  “We have to find how they are being taken out of here if we are going to find Philip.”

  “We might be too late,” Izzy sighed.

  “And we might not. All we can do is keep going until someone tries to stop us.”

  “Of course. And when someone tries to stop us?”

  “We kick their ass and keep going.”

  “Right. The usual plan.”

  “I would like to point out that right now we don’t seem to have anyone whose ass we can kick,” Blaise mused.

  “Spoil sport. Well, the only ones who might know what’s going on are the shirks.”

  “They probably aren’t going to tell us.”

  “That’s why we are going to follow them around for a while.”

  “Good thing you were a detective in real life and not a writer so you know how to follow people.” Izzy’s eyes twinkled, teasing.

  “I wrote about detectives and they were able to follow people. That must count for something.”

  Blaise shook his head. “I know how to follow people.”

  It was actually pretty simple when Blaise explained it. Luckily, the village was laid out on a grid with a couple of hub and spoke variations at the center. One of us could fall in a ways behind some shirks and the others could walk up parallel streets and crisscross every so often to check on the person following. At intervals, with a motion from Blaise, the follower would turn off on a side street and another would fall in behind the shirks.

  Of course, it helped if the shirks actually went somewhere to be followed. They lived in a small group of houses down near the park. My guess was that whatever we were going to find would be down there. Several times a couple of shirks would circle around the town, not interacting with anyone, and people generally avoided them. They didn’t seem to pay attention to much and it w
as hard to figure out if their circulating around had a point. Probably just reminding people they were under watch. The third time, we let them go and just pretended to enjoy the park.

  Finally darkness fell and nothing had happened. We were about to give up and go back to the house. Before we could set out, five shirks emerged from the houses. We hunkered down behind trees and watched. The number was unusual. They had only patrolled two at a time. And these five seemed alert and focused whereas the pairs had been mostly sleepwalking. They were clearly too alert for us to follow them given how empty the streets were.

  I indicated to Blaise and Izzy that we should sit tight. I was pretty sure that if something was about to happen it would be here—the park, the shirk houses, even that small building we had checked out before.

  I was right. They came back not too much later carrying a man by the shoulders. He had a hood over his head and wasn’t moving much. Drugged? Who knows? They cut right past us and went through the park and all entered the squat building against the back wall.

  I came up to the door and listened. Blaise and Izzy hung back on either side of the door. I could hear something happening inside, but I couldn’t tell what. Then I heard what sounded like scraping stone.

  Taking a chance, I opened the door a crack. I could hear fading footsteps but saw nothing. I stepped in carefully, then flattened myself against the wall. The last of the shirks were disappearing down into a square opening in the floor. As they disappeared, there was the sound of grinding stone again and a slab of floor slid across the opening. It must drop and then slide under the remaining stone floor because when it had slid into place it sprang up to become level with the rest of the floor.

  Blaise and Izzy were in the doorway. The space was otherwise empty and quiet.

  “Did you see that?” I asked.

  “We caught the end,” Izzy responded.

  “We know how people leave Haven,” Blaise said.

  “I’m guessing the five-thug escort probably means the next place isn’t as nice.”

  11.

  “Whoever designed this thing is good. In the dim light in here, I can hardly tell there’s a seam.” I was down on all fours trying to find the trap door or something that would trigger it.