Capes

by Drabble, Matt

  The twin approach of SOUL was firstly to promote the word of God in a peaceful manner to the public, to win the hearts and minds in an open public forum. She wanted to draw people towards her cause and make them see the dangers of the devil in their midst, before it was too late.

  She had positioned herself on the publicity trail, at first being seen as a religious nutcase, an extremist dealing in fear and paranoia. But her message was simple and clear, and after the accident at Boulder Ridge, people started to listen.

  She had refined her message, and soon, her message was garnering attention; the extremist was starting to make sense to people and she had her foot in the door.

  Shouting from outside the window slowly became invitations to speak in growing forums. Small-time right-wing media outlets gave way to mainstream radio, newspapers and then television. Her friendly charm started to make a dent once she was able to speak to the people directly into their homes, and slowly the zealot became the sensible voice.

  The next approach had been to stand candidates at local election level. She had worked tirelessly on the campaign trail, forcing through the first successfully elected local councillor. The drip became a trickle, and suddenly SOUL became part of the establishment, something that the government started to fear.

  Cynthia was certain that the success of SOUL at local election levels was what the government really feared, a challenge to their power, a challenge to the status quo.

  The second approach was to take direct action against their enemy. She had quickly learned that the government would take any steps to protect themselves and their power.

  Simply winning elections and working their way up the governmental ladder would not be enough. The day after they won their first ever parliament seat, a SOUL party member actually sitting in the halls of power, the writing of the Anti-Radical-Religion Bill had begun.

  The government would look to outlaw SOUL simply because the people were listening and they simply couldn’t have that. Cynthia Arrow had sought out a reason to explain the people’s own dissatisfaction: their own daily woes had to be given a face to blame, and what was easier than someone who didn’t look like any of them did?

  She had still kept her twelve-member inner circle, replacing those disciple soldiers who had fallen in battle or been taken into custody with another promising recruit rising up to take their place.

  She had structured SOUL to operate in independent cells. Every cell was headed by one of her twelve, and all plans were kept tightly within each cell so that they could never divulge any information if the worst happened.

  While she was confident that none of her disciples would ever betray the cause, the enemy had the harlot doctor in their midst, a demon capable of pulling thoughts from minds regardless of the owner’s wishes. It was another trick that the devil had up his sleeve, and another test on the way to God’s glory.

  Havencrest had been a perfect find, a Garden of Eden in a barren landscape, devoid of true believers.

  She had approached her pursuit of Krueger Stone like she had any military operation. She had toyed with the man, enticed him, rejected him, bedded him and made him fall in love before marrying him. She had a lifetime of emotional manipulation learned from her father’s side, and wrapping a simple man in love around her finger had been a time-consuming, three-year effort to do it right, but well worth the effort. In the end, she had snared a man and then a community.

  Havencrest slowly became her congregation. When the local pastor had fallen to his death in an ‘accident’ at the rear of his church, which overlooked the cliffs perched high above the town, Cynthia had stepped up to take his place.

  Her sermons had been old-school, fire-and-brimstone testament and her talent as a preacher quickly came to the fore as she drew her audience to her; their lack of knowledge of the outside world only aided the conversation of her congregation.

  The war had raged on, two fronts, two arms of her crusade: the public face of a peaceful religious family fighting against governmental persecution, while at the same time launching guerilla raids against the devil and his allies, all the while keeping the two arms apart and unconnected. Her message to the people was simple: the devil walked among them, a soulless abomination to blame for all of their ills.

  Havencrest was her true haven, a place to retreat to, a place to park the fake smile that she endlessly practised and wore in public. This was her sanctuary, a headquarters for SOUL, a training ground for her soldiers, a home.

  ----------

  “You really sure about this?” Jamie-Lyn asked from her position inside the large nondescript van parked within viewing range of the small fishing village.

  She was watching the monitors in the van, a bank of screens being fed by state-of-the-art surveillance equipment, all of them showing nothing of note.

  “You’re a guest here,” God said, without deigning to look at her. “Against my wishes, I should add,” he sneered. “So as a guest, kindly keep your opinions to yourself.”

  Jamie-Lyn fought the urge to flip the man off. She had seen enough of him during the past few years to know that he wasn’t incapable of sliding open the van’s side door and throwing her out over the cliff edge.

  “Wouldn’t you feel better if we got confirmation from Doc?” she pressed, determined not to be continually intimidated by the man.

  God sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose in tired frustration.

  “Look, Miss Anderson, you’re here because the suits want this covered right. Good guys versus bad guys, white hats versus the black ones, and all that crap. Me, I’m trying to run a potentially dangerous military operation. All of our intel points to this being the SOUL hive, the very epicentre of their operations.”

  “But wouldn’t you feel better if Doc gave us the confirmation? She’s in the field. Get her to do her thing and make sure. Surely that’s not too much to ask is it?”

  “Look, lady, I was conducting operations in the sort of dark corners of the world that you wouldn’t even want to think about. I was carrying out my country’s orders in the muck and bullets. I killed and I saw men die, and we did it all without the help of spacemen or… whatever these… people… are now.”

  “People? They’re a team – your team.”

  “I work with what I’m given. Besides, I can’t help but notice that you’ve been keeping your distance of late.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. I’m guessing that you’ve got something rattling around in that head of yours that you don’t want the doc picking up on.”

  Jamie-Lyn opened her mouth to speak, before closing it again when she couldn’t think of anything to say. He was right, of course, not that she’d ever give the overbearing arrogant pig the satisfaction of admitting it.

  She had been toying with the idea of leaving the unit for some time now. Her position as official spokesperson for the Queen’s Guard was wearing thin. She had once been an idealist journalist, but now she was simply a mouthpiece for what felt more and more like pure governmental propaganda.

  Her relationship with CJ had become increasingly distant with the passing years as he became more withdrawn from the team and from her. His work had become solitary and no one seemed to know what he was working on separate from them.

  Doctor Quantum had once told her that CJ’s mind was the only one she hadn’t been able to read. She supposed that was because CJ had given the doc her heightened ability, so it stood to reason that he would have been able to work in a failsafe for his own protection, but why would he want to?

  The radio in the van crackled into life, pulling her back into the moment.

  “Crimson to Control.”

  “Control,” God answered.

  “Haven’t found anything yet. You sure this is the place?”

  “That’s the information we have.”

  “Then they’re pretty bloody careful about hiding their tracks. I’ve scouted the outskirts of the village and picked up nothing, not a scent.”


  Jamie-Lyn looked at the monitors and still found herself marvelling at the abilities she witnessed, even after all this time. The fact that Crimson had scouted the location covering roughly eight miles from his drop-off point at a rate of – she checked the running timer on one of God’s screens –two-and-a-half minutes per mile, and that was in stealth mode, still amazed her.

  “Go in deeper,” God ordered. “I want any sentries found and neutralised.”

  There was a pause, and Jamie-Lyn wasn’t surprised. For the past couple of months, Crimson had been showing more and more signs of rebellion.

  “Crimson?” God pressed irritably.

  “Confirmed,” came the slow pouty reply.

  ----------

  Marshall monitored the conversation from his own vantage point low down on one of the bay’s inlet coves. He made a mental note to reprimand Crimson back at base, no matter how little good it would do, but as team leader it was his job and one he took seriously.

  He checked his watch and wanted to call Forbes. She had been feeling distant to him all week before the mission and he was worried. It just wasn’t like the doc to be so outward and confident, bordering on the almost arrogant.

  They had grown close but his strict military training and sense of duty had always stood between them and their relationship progressing any further than colleagues, but still he couldn’t help but wonder what she would feel like pressed close to his chest.

  “Six-Shooter?”

  Doc’s voice in his ear startled him .

  “Doc?”

  “Keep your mind on the mission. I shouldn’t be the one telling you that,” her voice came back, and he didn’t need her senses to know that she was smiling and that was another thing that bothered him.

  During their time together, it had always been the doc at the heart of the group. Bull did his job in his usual silent but brutally effective manner; trying to pull emotion from the man was like getting blood out of a stone. Crimson, on the other hand, was happy to get blood out of anything that moved.

  Marshall saw his own job to be the objective eye, the cold calculating leader that they needed to follow orders, but just lately, the doc seemed to be increasingly taking enjoyment from their work – even the bloody parts.

  ----------

  Dr Quantum smiled as she felt Marshall’s confusion at her ability to read his thoughts even from this distance. Her power still seemed to be growing even after all these years since CJ had enhanced her.

  There was a part of her that continually preached caution, that told her there was a reckoning coming if she kept on pushing the boundaries, but a larger part of her didn’t care. That meek timid voice was that of a child, a scared little girl afraid to take hold of her destiny and own her power.

  SOUL were dangerous fanatics and their body count had stretched from coast to coast in terror attacks. Only the Queen’s Guard had been strong enough and independent enough to hold back the tide.

  Perhaps she should try attending funerals and explaining to the mourners of SOUL victims that she was wary of using her full ability; perhaps they would smile and tell her that it was okay, or perhaps they’d spit on her in fury.

  Havencrest was a small town with only one main road in and out. It was a perfect hideaway for animals to hide, but their days were numbered. This was a hunt to extinction and she meant to play her part.

  The latest bombing at an innocent government building had left 27 dead and more than treble that injured. SOUL had immediately and gleefully claimed responsibility; their assertion that the building had housed dangerous experimental equipment had been laughed off by God, and she trusted his information more than the fanatics.

  The face of Cynthia Arrow flashed through her mind and she bit down hard on her lip in anger at the image. The woman was far more dangerous than any of her armed assistants.

  Somehow, the woman had managed to distance herself from any of the violent actions committed in her name. Instead, she took to the TV screens as an evangelist concerned with saving mankind’s immortal soul. Even more amazingly, no one had yet to fully establish the fact that the two sides of SOUL were linked under one leader.

  Cynthia Arrow had repeatedly condemned the attacks, calling them acts of barbarism, but often adding that she understood the soldiers of God’s motivations, just not their methods.

  Of course, with all of CJ’s enhanced gifts, she knew that Cynthia Arrow pulled all of the strings. She had read too many minds during battles to not know who was in charge. The trouble was that the handful of combatants that they’d managed to capture never talked and more often than not found a way to take their own lives.

  The other issue, of course, was that mind reading had yet to be deemed admissible evidence, rendering Dr Quantum’s ability useless in a court of law. But she wasn’t in a court now – this was a battlefield, and for the Queen’s Guard there were no rules.

  She closed her eyes and sent a wave out to the others. Crimson was scouting for guards. Marshall was almost half a mile away keeping a careful watch. She knew that even at that distance, he wouldn’t miss if his deadly aim was called for. He was, after all, the man who never missed. Bull, meanwhile, was brooding out of sight, the unstoppable force ready to be released if the situation called for a full frontal assault.

  Their leader, of course, was on his way. CJ had been gone for the past few days on a personal errand – no one knew where or why – but when the intel had come in about Havencrest, and the possibility of the SOUL hive finally being uncovered, they had moved without waiting for him to return.

  She should have been holding in position two behind the front line, but in truth she was tired of waiting. Crimson wasn’t the only one capable of infiltration.

  The small village didn’t appear to offer much in the way of a threat from the outside, but as she moved in across the open grassland, she could feel the negative energy radiating out.

  She had yet to encounter any people but she was confident in her own ability to shield her presence from unwanted attention.

  The cannery plant in the centre of the village seemed like a logical place to start and she headed for it, eager for the war to be over. She knew that if they could shut down the queen at the source, then all of SOUL would fall, exposing Cynthia Arrow as the terrorist she was; then they would cut the head off the snake once and for all.

  The building was large and dark, and although there were no visible signs of occupants, she could feel life forces inside, waiting and watching.

  She slipped inside an open rear door and almost immediately spotted a man sitting on a window seat with his eyes trained on the outside, an assault rifle cradled in his lap.

  It only took the briefest of glances inside the man’s mind to know that he was a soldier of SOUL. Their information appeared to be correct; she could think of no reason for an armed guard to be sitting in a deserted canning factory.

  Her first thought was to reach out to God and let him know; her second, however, was that she didn’t need him. She had grown tired of the man’s rules and directions. She was on the front line, not him, and she was more than capable of handling goons. God never seemed to be worried about Marshall or Crimson in the field, and as far as she could tell, the difference between her and them was the lack of a penis.

  Her ability now was growing so strong that it took very little to peer inside the man’s mind and reach down to pull up something from the darkness within, so she did.

  ----------

  Michael Boon sat watching the nonexistent view from the window as nothing happened as usual.

  While his post was a necessary one, it was dull duty, but he was a soldier of SOUL, a fist of the light, and he would never fail his calling.

  A shiver suddenly ran through his body and he was on his feet in a flash. The assault rifle was in his hands, safety off and raised to his shoulder in one smooth movement, suggestive of a soldier’s ability and learned from the many military training sessions put on by SOUL.
.

  Boon stood there as he surveyed the empty hallway. His senses told him that someone was there even though his eyes told a different story.

  He stood that way for several seconds, unable to lower his weapon but unable to comprehend why. He swung about in all directions before finally relaxing a little and engaging the safety on the rifle.

  He let out a long sigh after realising that he hadn’t breathed in what felt like an age, his breath coming out in a cold white cloud despite the humid hallway heat.

  A scratching sound at the wall behind him made him whip his head around and take a step back. The building was old but largely clean; the wood was still firm underfoot but it didn’t stop him from worrying.

  His earliest memory was from when he had been a mere toddler. He’d been sitting in a pushchair while his mother had left his side in the back yard to talk to a neighbour. While sitting locked under the harness, a rat had crawled out from under the house and slowly worked its way up his chubby legs until it had sat on his chest and stared deeply into his eyes. The feeling of sheer terror and helplessness was one that still came to him in the middle of the night, a paralysing fear that stole his breath and ability to move.

  Further movements in the walls made him take another step, but this time forwards as the wall behind him was now full of scratching claws.

  Boon raised the rifle again, knowing that it offered little in the way of protection but unwilling to lay it down as his hands trembled. His eyes widened as the walls now rippled with movement, plaster and wood swelling outward as unseen shapes bulged under the surface.

  “No…,” he gasped as the lights above stuttered and dimmed, threatening to go out entirely.

  Tiny teeth gnawed at the walls as hungry mouths ate their way through. Small pink noses started to twitch as they emerged through the gaps, and dozens of black eyes stared back at him through the holes.

  Lithe furry bodies started to fight and force their way through, and then they were tumbling out into the open as the lights flickered and died above Boon as his breath hitched tightly in his chest.