by Justin Sloan
When he opened his eyes Clara was staring at him, and he quickly looked away. That wasn’t good.
“Wait! Oh, no,” she held out a hand to get his attention, and it touched his leg. He jumped with a yelp. “Stop it! I wasn’t like, checking you out or anything.”
“Creepily watching me sleep?”
“Yeah, nothing like that. It’s just, I haven’t known many Weres who turned into cats.”
He smiled, calming slightly. “Not exactly a cat, but yeah, okay.”
Wallace glanced back at them. “Almost there. Keep it down.”
“My apologies,” Diego replied with a wave that became the middle finger as soon as the man had turned around.
He put it down quickly, realizing Wallace could probably see it in the mirrors. It wasn’t that he disliked the man, necessarily. It was that he didn’t like anyone telling him what to do, and he especially didn’t like people who let prisoners get away. That’s exactly what the guy had done though—Wallace had let his girlfriend, held prisoner at the time, walk.
“Whoa,” Clara exclaimed, the first to see it.
Diego glanced over and nodded. “Yup, that’d be it, I’d bet.”
Below them, hidden from view in a valley, was an old suburban neighborhood that had been transformed into a militarized zone. Around stacked cars was a fence that glistened at the top, likely from concertina wire, and past that several houses with a school at their center had been rebuilt to make them into a single structure with connecting passages.
“Doubt they get people flying in very often,” Wallace commented, pointing to an area where several people had begun to gather near the old school building.
The pilot set the Pod down near the spot that they guessed was a gate, and they waited for the guard.
“We have reason to speak with Lady Woo,” Wallace started, and Garcia cringed.
“I sent word,” Garcia interrupted. “Please tell Lady Woo that Sergeant Garcia from New York is here.”
“Not Chicago anymore?” Diego asked with a wink.
Garcia waved him off. “Shoot, after all we’ve been through? You’re practically family now.”
The guard frowned, confused, but then just nodded and went off to pass along the message.
“You guys have to act like that in front of them?” Clara asked. “I mean, I’d recommend putting more of a strong but amiable face forward.”
“You’re the expert?” Garcia asked with a scoff.
“In this place?” She shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”
He assessed her, biting the inside of his cheek, then grunted. “Fine, no more shenanigans.”
“That’s all I ask,” she replied.
Platea was smiling, trying not to laugh.
“What?” Diego asked.
“Count on Clara to put the big bad sergeant and the Were in their places.” Platea was unable to hold back a laugh this time. “Typical.”
“They’re coming,” Clara growled between clenched teeth. “Do you mind?”
“Right.” Platea and the others put adopted stern expressions and waited as the gate screeched open.
“We got your message,” the guard told them. “But Lady Woo isn’t in the habit of inviting strangers in to see where we live.”
“Our goal isn’t to look for weaknesses,” Wallace assured him, glancing around. “But if she doesn’t feel comfortable in there, perhaps a ride in our Pod?”
The guard’s eyebrow raised at that. “If you wanted her dead—”
“If we wanted her dead, we wouldn’t have come here on a diplomatic mission,” Garcia interrupted, “but fine. What do you recommend?”
Again the guard disappeared, apparently talking with someone, since their whispers carried in the hot wind. When he came back, he said, “She and a group of her people shall come to the closest building to this gate, nothing more.”
“Wonderful.” Diego took a step toward the gate, but the guard held up a hand.
“You must wait until her people are situated.”
A few minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone, Diego decided, so he simply nodded and stepped back, arms folded.
“And no guns,” the guard added, before turning back and closing the gate.
Everyone stared at each other.
“I’m not going in there without a gun,” Garcia said. “Look at this place! It’s like an armory in there. They’re guaranteed to be carrying.”
“But doing what they say would be a good way to go about earning their trust,” Platea advised.
“That, and showing you’re weak,” Clara added.
“Are these games really necessary?” Diego asked. “I mean, just shout at them to come out here and talk, and if they don’t—”
“Don’t even say it,” Wallace advised. “You say what I think you’re going to say, that makes you the bad guy. That makes you like the CEO, or Commander Strake. Lives are valuable, friend.”
“You sound like a weird song person,” Diego replied with a humph.
“A lyricist? I don’t think so, and I really have no idea what you mean by that. I simply sound like someone who doesn’t want to shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Why do you know so much about so much all of a sudden?”
Wallace smiled. “What do you think I’ve been doing in the tower all day?”
“You mean HQ?” Diego shrugged. “Enjoying your time in the communal showers?”
Wallace chuckled. “No. Talking, listening, and learning. Our prisoners have much to say. I’ve mostly been hearing how not to act from them, but some of them opened up about their travels in this direction, about how people behave out here. Clara, tell me if I’m wrong, but hostility shown in this way doesn’t always mean they want to do us harm. It’s more like…to test us, right?”
Clara nodded, impressed. “Yes. They aren’t bad people just because they rub you wrong at first. They’re probably trying to figure out how much to trust us. After all, we did arrive in some kind of technology they’ve not likely dealt with before.”
Diego threw his hands into the air. “Fine, we leave our weapons in the Pod. Locked.”
“Deal,” she replied. “Though I doubt they’d know how to open the Pod even if it wasn’t locked.”
“It makes me feel safer to know it’s locked.
“Makes me feel safer to walk in with a rocket launcher,” Garcia noted, “but sure, I’ll play along, I guess. Worst case scenario, Diego here goes all catboy on them.”
Diego glared, then stowed his weapons. “If shit hits the fan, I want you all to pull back while I lead the fight, got it?”
The only one to refuse was Garcia, but Diego had figured on that happening anyway. He knew it wasn’t a battle he could win.
Once they had all stashed their weapons and locked up, Wallace stood at the gate. “Done. We are unarmed.”
Again the gate opened with a loud screech of metal, and the guard motioned to them to follow. “Lady Woo awaits you within.”
He gestured for them to head for the closest building, as promised, and took up the rear, his rifle at the ready, butt to his shoulder.
“Don’t get many visitors, huh?” Garcia asked. When he received no response, he added, “You know, I figured that out because of the whole gun and secluded thing.”
This time the guard nodded toward the house and grunted.
“I’m not sure I like this guy,” Garcia told Diego.
When they entered the building, they found themselves in a hallway that led to two doors. The hallway had two more guards, though at least they held bats and crowbars instead of rifles. This made Diego curious—did they not have many guns, or were they simply low on ammunition?
Perhaps a trade network could be set up.
Their guard nodded to them and the hall guards stepped aside, pulling open the doors to reveal an assembly room with a chair on a raised platform at one end and more guards along the walls with weapons at the ready, though only a few guns.
It was Lady Wo
o, Diego presumed, who sat at the chair on the raised platform like a damn queen.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Garcia whispered, and Diego knew what he meant. If these people were really a bunch of psychos, this was a perfect trap.
He stepped forward, noting how the guards tensed. So, really not used to company. Also a bit nervous, which he took to mean they weren’t sure how this would go.
Holding up his hands again to show he wasn’t armed, he asked, “Lady Woo?”
The woman on the chair nodded. She must have been much younger than he had imagined, likely no older than her early twenties. How the hell did she get these people eating out of her hands? Her looks certainly weren’t part of it. Despite her apparent youth, she had her hair pulled back tightly in a way that didn’t compliment her pug nose or harsh eyes, and her skin was marked with scars and, on one side, a large burn mark. A warrior, then.
“We received your messenger,” Lady Woo started, “so we granted you an audience, though I’m still not certain why.”
“Why we’ve come?” Diego smiled. “We want to form a partnership.”
“These people don’t need more friends. They have enough of those.”
“Ah, the network. Yes, we’ve heard.”
Wallace cleared his throat, stepping up next to Diego. “We come from New York. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
She grimaced. “I hear you have some assassin who runs around dispatching her enemies in the night. If you’ve come here to scare us—”
“Not at all,” Wallace interrupted. “And that’s not what I meant. If you’re referring to the person I think you are, I can assure you she’s not a concern here. What I meant is our prosperity, and lately, our rule of law.”
“Very much, lately,” she countered, eyes narrowing further. “See, we Woos have long memories. Not even a year ago, Old Manhattan, as it was known then, was quite a different place. What’s to say it won’t change again in another year, or even six months?”
Wallace smiled, hands behind his back. “Quite simply, because of partnerships like the one we’re here to discuss.”
Diego had to give it to him—Lady Woo actually leaned back, considering his words. Wallace was speaking her language.
“Stability in Old, er, New York, does have its benefits. We’ve had our fair share of runaways from your neck of the woods, mind you. A system that put a stop to that would, as far as I’m concerned, help us out a great deal. Resources being scarce as they are…”
Catching on, Diego leaned forward and said, “Another area we might be able to help with.”
Lady Woo looked intrigued by that, though Wallace shot him an angry glance before regaining his composure.
“Go on,” Lady Woo encouraged.
Diego smiled and turned to Wallace, letting him take over so he didn’t risk putting the other foot in his mouth. There was only one way to interpret that look, after all. Wallace had been intending to hold onto the information about trade and resources, to use it as a bargaining chip. Maybe he could still recover from Diego’s little slip.
“The way we see it,” Wallace said, slowly, considering his words, “there are several communities in the area. Correct?” He waited for her to nod. “If you helped us secure the rest, we’d be willing to send shipments your way. Maybe you start sending something back, or maybe it’s as simple as setting up a larger network, like a Community Watch program. Each community sets up patrols, looking for problems, and puts a stop to trouble before it gets out of hand. Together, we bring peace to the American continent.”
A glance at the guards showed this was going over well, at least with them. Lady Woo was leaning forward, hands clasped and fingers interlocked, index fingers extended to form a point under her chin as she considered the proposal.
Finally, she nodded.
“We can do our part, but there’s a city not far north of here... They haven’t traditionally played nice with us. You get them on board, and we have ourselves a deal.”
Clara was the one to ask. “And the name of that city?”
“El Diablo,” she replied with an amused grin. “Gotta ask yourself why, though, don’t you?”
Diego shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems like everybody wants to name themselves after the devil or whatever nowadays. I just assume it’s because everything’s fallen to shit.”
The guard closest to Lady Woo tensed, but she held a hand up and he backed down, leaving Diego to wonder what the hell that was all about. He shrugged it off and turned to Wallace.
“Shall we leave immediately?”
Wallace nodded and was about to respond when Clara broke in.
“I’ve heard of that place. It’s not exactly…a team player.” Clara looked at her mom, worry heavy in her eyes.
“But you forget, we have Diego here,” Platea said. “And I believe Lady Woo made it quite clear they aren’t team players, which is exactly why we are needed.”
Clara nodded, but the unease was still clearly present. Diego made a mental note to ask her about it later.
They had been hoping for a meal or some sort of grander reception, but as soon as they finished discussing the details and one of the guards gave them better directions to El Diablo, they were sent on their way.
“Not exactly the most hospitable of potential allies,” Diego grumbled as he entered the Pod. He was the last one in, closing the door and sitting back as it rose off the ground. He turned to Clara and waited.
“Tell ‘em,” Platea advised. “Might as well get it out there.”
Clara sighed, but nodded. “The pirates were actually planning to move against El Diablo. Probably would’ve happened soon if Valerie hadn’t come along and disrupted everything. The deal was, they were part of the indie pact, but supposedly made some strong moves against their partners. Killed off a couple of key leaders. Maybe even gave Lady Woo that burn, if rumors are true.”
Garcia frowned. “Then how does it make sense that she’s so keen on seeing them join?”
“Good question.” Wallace glanced over his shoulder at them. “If I was her, I’d have demanded that El Diablo burn, not be welcomed into the fold.”
“Unless she’s just the kind of woman we want on our team,” Diego offered. “Not above moving on, forgiving, if it means being stronger. Better to have a group like El Diablo on your side than against you, perhaps?”
“But not if they betray their partners like the rumors say,” Clara reminded them.
“True.” Diego furrowed his brow in thought. “Something’s fishy here. Can’t wait to find out what it is.”
“But we are going?” Garcia confirmed. “I mean, this El Diablo thing, it doesn’t sound like good business.”
“If it gets the rest of them on our side without bloodshed? Maybe it’s just about setting this up right, putting people into the proper spots, maybe having some of our teams keep an eye on them.”
“Oh, they’d love that.” Clara laughed. “But hey, you are the ones who got New York rebuilt, so who am I to say?”
After that the ride was fairly uneventful, as was the scenery. Looking below them, they saw more brown, more heat waves, and more of the wasteland America had collapsed into. They didn’t know what they were facing with this El Diablo place, but Diego was sure nothing could be good out in this hellhole.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Norwegian Fjords
Cammie had seen the movements by the fires of their supposed enemy and watched the two airships crash, though she wasn’t sure how bad it had been for either of them, and the third moving off seemingly untouched. As the night wore on, Cammie started to wonder what the hell had happened to Valerie. Since the fires had died down, she was just barely able to make out the shape of the third airship, which was still aloft.
It moved north, and soon she saw its silhouette heading east against the sky. Odd—that wasn’t the direction the airships had come from, so where was it going?
She wanted to get back to the others below and see if Valeri
e had checked in, but knew that wasn’t what they had all agreed on. That, and as she stood there, her eyes began to close and her head nod.
“Why don’t you get some rest?” one of the guards with her said. “It’s your turn anyway.”
While she did contemplate arguing, after a few seconds of trying to answer but nodding off instead, she agreed. Royland had been able to sleep most of the day, though he was lucky it was the other ship that had gone down. She couldn’t imagine what he would have done if he had been forced to abandon ship. In fact, it was kind of careless to have brought him at all, but he had insisted. Now he was off on guard duty somewhere, completely rested, while she found an area behind the other guards and laid down, conking out within seconds of closing her eyes.
She woke with a jolt sometime in the early morning and turned her head to see one of the guards staring at her.
“What?”
He wrinkled up his face. “You’re not going to like it.”
“Valerie?”
He nodded.
“She didn’t check in, huh?”
“No sign of her. William even came up from camp, asking. Nothing up here, nothing down there.” The guard shrugged. “Nothing.”
Cammie rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up. “This is so not good. So, so, so not good.”
“They’re packing up camp, said to get you.”
She frowned. “So you let me sleep instead.”
“No, I was whispering your name. You being a Were and all, I didn’t want to risk getting my head bitten off.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
He nodded. “Good to know. Having not known many Weres, I’m not sure when to be cautious and when to treat you like everybody else. But I’ve woken my share of girls who nearly snapped my head off, and none of them were Weres, so…”
“Oh, shut up.” She stood up, stretched, and glanced down toward where the airships had been. Sure enough, the third one was present now, but the other two still were gone. Smoke rose from trees far off to the northwest, barely visible at this distance. “I think we know which direction she went, at least.”
The man turned, looking around and squinting in attempt to see.