Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel

by Colby R Rice

  Julie wiped the tears budding in her eyes and forced a smile. "I always did wish I could be more like you. You're a rock. Always calm. Never weak."

  "No. I suffer. I cry. I just do it in the places other people can't see." She fidgeted, feeling bashful. "Mommy issues."

  Julie regarded her warmly, and a silence passed, the air swelling with the obvious next question.

  "So." Julie looked at her hands, clearly referring to her powers. "Training?"

  "Yeah." Actually, that wasn't true. Aside from practicing on her own, Zeika hadn't undergone formal training a day in her life. Still, that was best kept to herself. It was already dangerous and illegal to be a trained Civic Alchemist. There was no telling what the punishment would be for being a naturally-gifted one. "What about you?"

  "Same. Learned from Mom in secret until she-- you know." Julie turned her eyes away for a moment, in thought. "Z... why are you here?"

  There it was. The other obvious question, another one that Zeika wasn't sure she could answer.

  "Z?"

  "Initiation," Zeika said finally, squaring her shoulders. "The first two tasks of three." She walked over to the corner, picked up the mini-cam, and pocketed it. She turned back to Julie and could see that she didn't look too happy.

  "They're terrorists. They're just as responsible for our situation as the Azures are. They killed my parents!"

  "I don't have a choice," Zeika protested. "Manja and I need to get to the Island. Our parents are still missing, and between the police and the Ninkashi, things have gone nuclear. You know that. I can move myself, I can risk myself, but I won't risk her. And I won't leave her, either."

  Julie looked pained. "There's another way."

  "Jules, please don't with the morality crap--"

  "This isn't just some wimpy plea. This is real. We have a boat, and it's leaving in two days. A small dinghy. We're headed across the Hudson to the Seventh. That's why I'm here." She motioned to the train around her. "Supplies. And there's one more seat left. Both you and Manja could fit if you put her on your lap."

  "Yeah?" Zeika said, brightening.

  She searched Julie's face for the truth, but unless Julie was under some serious hallucinations, the truth was there in her face, plain as day. The idea sounded pretty damned good, and a hell of a lot better than becoming a ghost of Koa. Maybe there was a way out. It wouldn't take them to the Island, but it would put them in a better position to get there. And in the meantime, they'd be safe. There was only one question that remained.

  "How? The Ninkashi, the police--"

  "We made a beaten path, Z. Through the Guild's underground."

  Zeika's eyes widened. How in hell had she forgotten about that? The Guild of Almaut had always had its panic rooms and safety measures, usable for anyone who knew how to open them. Every guildsman knew this, but in the psychotic rush of trying to escape Sal and the Ninkashi, she'd tossed out a lot of options, the Guild being one of them. At the time, it had been the logical thing to do, because she hadn't had the panic room codes anyway. Plus, Taitt had gone MIA after the Ninkashi attack. Yet the solution to most of her problems had been there the entire time, right under her feet.

  She felt herself smile, finally feeling hope fill her up. Excitement, even. "How'd you get the codes?"

  "Taitt. Right before the Vigils hit. Right before he skipped town."

  Zeika scowled. What a stellar fellow. She thought he'd been about town, lobbying for the Guild, not hiding in some rat hole. "He left his Guild? The Demesne?"

  "Don't blame him. We're all trying to get out. He did the best he could before he had to put his family first."

  "He is the Master of the Guild of Almaut," Zeika said, her voice trembling with rage. "We are his family."

  "His extended family. Come on, Z. What if it were you? What if it came down to choosing between the Fifth and Manja? You'd let us all burn. Even me." And Julie actually smirked. "Though I hope you'd feel terribly about it, you self-righteous bitch."

  Zeika chuckled and nodded, taking the cue to lighten the mood. Besides Julie was right. She was being self-righteous. The bottom line was that whether or not Taitt had crapped out, he'd left breadcrumbs, and that was a good thing. "So, the boat. Who's driving? Denise?"

  Julie pursed her lips, her eyes pinched with grief. "She never made it, Z. It's just me and the kids now, and some others. Freya from school, and her older brother, Marshall. A couple of his friends, and me. Like I said, this is the last of us."

  Xakiah crouched low on top of the rocking Pullman, the wind and rain beating against his body. It was time. The explosives were rigged to the engine and first three cars chained to it. He'd made sure to position himself on the smuggler car, and he faced the caboose, ready to leap. Easy work.

  As the train rounded a wide corner of the winding tracks, he lifted the detonator, about to scatter the Sigma Express to the depths-- when a flutter of movement, eight cars down, caught his eye. Even in the howling dark, he could see them with his alchemic sight: two hooded figures moving about in the sundries and medicines car-- and in the next second, the train completed the turn and became straight steel again, taking the two intruders out his line of sight.

  He'd only seen them for a split-second, but he'd seen enough. Ghosts of Koa.

  He put the detonator in his holster, exchanging it for his M-16. If he blew up the engine, the backlash would hit the intruders, but not until a few seconds later. A second was all it took to turn the tables in any situation. They might escape. Better to handle them first, to ensure all the traitors to the Order went the same way. Then he would handle the train.

  He looked far behind him and saw a train bridge in the distance, one that U-bended over open water. As the Sigma Express made the turn, the ghosts' car would drift right into his crosshairs.

  He smiled, steadied himself on the slippery roof, and lifted the rifle scope to his eye.

  Zeika felt her heart sink at the news. Denise had been a no-nonsense kind of chick, but she was also sweet and tender when it counted. They'd trained in Majkata together even, off and on when Zeika found the time. Now, like everything else they knew and loved, she was gone.

  But there wasn't time to mourn even that. They needed to grab their stuff and go, or at least plan their escape from the train before it reached its destination.

  So she and Julie had put their masks back on, both for safety and to drive home the mission. Joining Koa, thankfully, was now dead as an option. Still, teatime was over, and it was time to make the new plan work. Together, they raided the trunks. Dried herbs, medicines, first aid supplies, and lovely extras, like dried fruits, vegetables, canned goods. Even smoked meat. Zeika helped Julie stuff as much into her pack as possible and then started to load up her own.

  Julie was still talking, though, filling her in on everything that had happened in the larger world since the Vigils had started. She spoke of the things she'd had to see, the things she'd had to do, and Zeika found that their lives hadn't been much different in the past two months. The sole distinction was that Zeika had told the larger world to go to hell, and Julie hadn't.

  "Got a couple contacts over there that confirm it's safe," Julie said, referring again to Demesne Seven. "But there's something weird going on over there too. S'posedly, there's this Azure laboratory, on the far edge, beyond the wood. It just appeared there one day. Right out of nowhere."

  Zeika picked up some bags of fava beans and pocketed one, shoving the rest into Julie's pack. "Azures often develop in secret," she said. "Especially when they're pushing into Civilian territory."

  "Maybe." Julie hunched, shrugging off the chill of the train as she closed her now bulging pack. "But I heard of trucks passing through the Seventh, heading right towards that lab. Trucks filled with weird stuff."

  "Like the Cannibal Caboose back there." Zeika shoved her thumb at the Ninkashi car.

  "Yeah, you saw that, huh? Insane."

  "Chyah. One of them almo
st kissed me hello. Scared the hell out of me."

  "Who do you think's doing this? And why?"

  "Not sure, but initiation or no, I'm definitely going to knock this train off-course before we head out. Just gotta wait until the next ravine."

  Julie nodded, her gaze determined. "I'll help you."

  "Good." Zeika grinned wide. "I'd hate to make you look bad by letting me do all the hero work."

  Julie snickered and folded her arms. "You always were a shit-talker. I've had to hold back from using my powers on you for years now."

  Zeika winked, tightening the straps on her own pack. "How'd you find out about the train, anyway?"

  "Slept with this Azure named Jarell. You?"

  "Robbed his drug dealer."

  "Heh. At least you took the high road."

  They laughed, deeply, and Zeika felt a levity she hadn't know in months, one so bewitching that she barely noticed the train's tilt as it rounded a wide corner-- and then the spell shattered as she felt the wind leave her body, Julie tackling her, the glass window behind them exploding inward at the same time.

  They hit the floor of the rumbling train, and Zeika bit back a scream as Julie's shoulder crunched into her ribs. Dull pain, and the rhythmic, endless pounding of bullets was all she knew as the fusillade of metal shots sliced through the back walls of the train, kicking up glass shards and splinters. The car leaned deeper into the turn, and they slid, slamming into wooden molding.

  Winds howled into the car, almost swallowing the high whine of the automatic rifle, but Zeika could hear it, it and the hissing silence that followed when the bullets finally stopped, and the train's walls breathed out smoke. The snaking Pullman finally came out of the hard turn and straightened, rushing through the woods. Rain splashed over them.

  Julie wasn't moving. She'd saved her life, and she wasn't moving, and--

  "JULES! Jules, you okay? Jules!"

  No answer. Her heart pounding, Zeika rolled Julie off her, only for the girl to gasp in a huge breath of air. She was alive, just in shock, her face blanched by horror.

  "Saw him-- on the roof of the train-- son of a bitch--" Julie stuttered. "He's coming!"

  Zeika's relief shriveled as she looked to the door of the train. She was right. M-16, body holster buckles, a field knife, two Glocks. A metal arsenal that she'd seen and felt before. Cotch. And now he was only six cars away.

  She scrambled into a crouch and reached outward with her mind, the grasp of her power falling short just at the door. She couldn't reach him. Not yet. He was still too far away, but moving faster than anything she'd ever seen.

  "Oh my God-- Z!"

  She whipped around, following Julie's terrified gaze to the back of the car, where the black shadows were now moving, taking form into something thick, viscous, and unyielding.

  "No..." Zeika shook her head, in denial of what she already knew was coming. Cotch's monster. They'd be trapped between it and him, and he was about to come through the other door. She drew her gun and grabbed Julie by the lapel of her robes, pulling her to her feet.

  "Get out of here!"

  "But--"

  "NOW!"

  Julie looked at her, desperation and wild confusion wracking her delicate features. She hesitated, obviously torn between her options. Finally, she chose one, and she turned to face the shattered window, pack on her back. "Number 28. Don't die, Z. Not now."

  Zeika clenched her jaw and nodded. Room 28 at the Guild, the entrance to the underground. Julie dove head first through the window of the moving train, disappearing into the mist. Whether she would survive the fall into the wood, Zeika wouldn't know, and she didn't have time to think about it. Behind her, the car door was opening, and as the black monster filled the end of the car with its mass, Zeika turned to face KX Cotch, the assassin of the Alchemic Order.

  Xakiah smiled as he stepped into the car. This ghost was a brave one, staring at him with eyes of fire behind a black mask. At the other end of the car, his Echo fell to all fours behind and began to crow with hunger, craving the flesh it would need to lengthen and darken its shadows. Xakiah raised his hand, and it shrunk back. He slung his rifle, advancing forward.

  "Would you like to tell me what, precisely, you're doing here? I thought perhaps you'd want to unburden your conscience before you die."

  The child slowly shook his head, never spoke. He seemed aware of the creature behind him, and still, he never moved.

  Xakiah couldn't help but feel pleased at the response. He slid his field knife from his sheath as he moved forward. "Well, then. Let's make it a short night."

  The silent kid cocked his head-- and the space beneath Xakiah's feet disappeared. He fell into nothingness, but somehow caught himself, slamming his blade into the part of the car floor that was still solid, the bottom half of his body dangling in open air. The speeding scream of the winds rushed into the hole that had magically opened beneath his feet, metal turning to some sort of gossamer-- and there was a moment where he could see the other end of the train melt as well, his Echo falling into the night, getting crushed under the weight of the trailing carriage.

  Xakiah bit down as an internal wound opened in his side. The Echo that had been a part of him died, taking some of his own flesh and blood with it. And the pain--

  The muzzle of a 9mm Beretta appeared between his eyes, the ghost of war attached to it.

  "I love short nights," the ghost whispered, and he pulled the trigger, but not before Xakiah let go of his blade, and fell through the hole, the bullet grazing the top of his head.

  The skin on his skull split, and fire erupted at his temple, but his hands found the twisted metal pipes of the car's underbelly. He caught himself, holding on as the racing steel tracks rushed beneath his body, stripping the rubber heels from his boots.

  Somewhere above him, he heard the ghost leap over the rabbit hole, heading into the next car. Xakiah gritted his teeth, ignoring the blood pouring down his face. Hand over hand, he crawled back up into the car and pulled himself through the hole. His mind just barely processed the back half of the car that wasn't there, its walls actually fluttering in the night mist. The other three cars and the Ninkashi caboose trailed behind, their chain pulleys unaffected by the alchemy.

  Alchemy. Steel. Turned to silk.

  He whipped around to the other train door, which was still easing closed. The ghosts was a Civic Alchemist. A powerful one. They were all supposed to be dead, but he didn't have time to wonder. The ghost was already four cars away. He had to stop him. He had to before--

  A shrieking squeal pierced the night, and Xakiah knew he was too late. He ran to the window he'd shot open and poked his head through to look down the tracks. The eighth car, the same one where he'd killed the traitors, was tilting. Its spinning wheels hovered at least a foot above the tracks, and as it leaned, Xakiah could see the long kiln of blue silk, the one that used to be a chain pulley, rippling in the wind like a flag of victory.

  From metal to fabric...

  And his next thought was to move, because the falling carriage in front of him would pull the rest of the train cars down like dominoes-- and it did. A terrible squealing crash, then another-- and then the floor beneath him lifted a swift 45 degrees. Thinking nothing else, Xakiah dove through the rising train window, head first into a blur of shrubs and earth, the ground rushing up to meet him and determine his fate.

  Nineteen miles in, and Caleb could see the crash in the distance. Or the signs of one, at least. The tops of the trees had shaken violently, moved by something forceful and more sudden than the breeze. Smoke soared into the sky.

  He picked up his run as best he could, trying to ignore the fact that the night had gotten colder. He'd donned his hood, and the collar on his trench coat was high, keeping the clammy fingers of mist from curling around his neck as he jogged towards the wreck. Half-healed stitches dug their claws into the cleaved flesh of his chest as he moved, but he held back the wince and picked up the
jog. It wasn't long before he could see what exactly had crashed.

  Holy hell...

  A train. The freight had been coming towards him but was now scattered to shit across the tracks and further out. As the mist broke around the large, overturned cars ahead, Caleb slowed his run into a trot.

  His eyes widened, impressed. The back half of the train was clearly missing, having been left further back on the tracks. Nearly the entire front half had slid off course and flipped onto its side. The most amazing part, though, was that one of the middle cars had become completely unhinged from the entire procession. Like a broken link from a long chain, the solitary car lay on its side, peppered with grass and mud. Caleb blinked. It was a strange way to crash up.

  A sound from further out. Someone, or something was coming, and if he didn't want to get caught flat-footed, he needed to move. So he did, and he crept into the forest foliage on the side of the tracks. He listened. The sounds were footsteps, ones that stumbled over the loose rocks and soil that flanked the tracks. They weren't too far away and were coming from his northeast, not deliberate at all in their movements. Whether it was an animal or a person, it moved like it was drunk. Or wounded.

  Quietly, Caleb climbed the nearest tree, careful to keep the wide trunk between him and the sounds so that he wouldn't be seen. He chose a perch on a sturdy branch, silently unveiled his rifle, and pointed it in the direction of the careless, drunken footsteps. He looked down the scope, waiting for the thing to reveal itself-- and his lips parted in shock as Cotch stumbled into view, right into the crosshairs.

  A second passed before the mercenary seemed to realize he was being watched. He stopped in his tracks and turned, looking dead into the scope. Right at him. Yeah. It was definitely Cotch. He looked composed but exhausted. Scratches had been lacerated across his face and body. Deep bruises applied a ghoulish blush in odd places--

  Caleb smiled. It was glorious.

  Whether Cotch had been caught in the train crash or someone had whipped his ass, Caleb wasn't sure. Either way, the bastard had had his clock cleaned, proper.