The Crimes of Orphans

by Obie Williams

  But she was nowhere to be seen.

  With a groan, the woman moved to push herself up further—just in time to hear a loud cracking noise from somewhere above, followed by a sudden crushing pain below her knees.

  She cried out, her head hitting the floor with a harsh thud as she fell back once more. She tried to roll over or move her legs, but could do neither. Raising her head, she looked down to see a burning piece of rafter lying across her shins.

  She laid her head back and began to sob. This was how it was going to end for her, burning up in a fire of her own design. She was going to die here next to the body of her final victim, charred to ash like her uncle all those years ago.

  Then the pain came. It was white and searing, eating into the flesh of her legs like some hungry beast. She could feel her skin start to crack and peel as hot liquid dripped over her from her melting pants. She could hear a sizzling noise, and a scent like cooking rancid pork filled her nostrils.

  But just as she thought she was going to black out and that would be the end, the intensity of her agony dropped noticeably. All of a sudden she could move her legs again, though the pain that surged up when she did made her head swim. Before she could really assess what was happening, there was a tugging at the side of her shirt.

  The little girl was there. She had pushed the rafter away, and was now trying to get her up. She didn’t speak, only looked at the woman insistently with her wide, shimmering eyes.

  The woman somehow struggled to her feet with the girl’s help. With her first step, she cried out as the pain nearly buckled her knees, but the girl was right there next to her, supporting her, staying with her the whole time.

  Once free of the house and a safe distance away, the girl pulled away, allowing the woman to slip down to her rear on the ground. They both were taking in gasping breaths of the cool night air. Looking to the girl, the woman’s eyes sprang fresh tears at the sight of her numb, solemn face. It was round and coated with soot, save for two clean streaks descending from her brown eyes. She just stood there, staring down at her. Not angrily. Not accusingly. Just blank.

  “Wh-Why?” the woman stammered. “Why did you save me?”

  The girl gave a little shrug. “Because you saved me.”

  The woman’s brow furrowed. She watched the girl turn away and take off running towards the tree line. Then she turned her eyes down to her legs, staring at the blistering flesh that peeked out amid the tatters of her pants. She shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold.

  He was beside her then, his strong hands on shoulders. “Jesus, Killer, did you get trapped inside there?”

  “Uh huh,” she replied blankly.

  “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

  “I think so.” Her voice felt small, far away inside her own head.

  “Alright, let’s get you up then.” He pulled on her, and she groaned as he slowly brought her to shaky feet. It hurt like hell, but she was pretty sure she could stay standing, maybe even walk. She turned her sleepy gaze to him as he spoke again. “Come on, we have to go after her before she gets too far.”

  The woman’s eyes suddenly came alive with fury. She pushed him off her with her right hand just as she swung her left fist into his jaw so hard that he went sprawling to his ass. She had her handgun out in a flash, pointed straight at his face.

  “You’re not going near that girl. You’re going to get your ass up and walk the other direction.”

  He blinked. “But I—”

  “Shut up!” she screamed, her finger tightening on the trigger. His mouth snapped closed. “You’re going to get up, you’re going to walk the other way, and you’re going to go back and tell him I’m out.”

  “You’re…out?” He tilted his head.

  “That’s right. I’m out. And if I so much as sense that either one of you comes looking for me, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in each of your heads. Do you understand me?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “Good. Now get the fuck out of my sight before I decide to kill you for what you made me do tonight.”

  He hesitated, staring at her.

  “Go!” she screamed, and he flinched, then scrambled to his feet and took off running away from where the girl had headed.

  As soon as he disappeared from sight, the woman let out a weak whimper and fell back to her rear in the grass. She sat there for some time, watching the house burn. Sat there and thought about what she had done. Not just tonight, but over all the years that had passed. She thought about what she had become, and what she could possibly do to fix it.

  She didn’t suppose she could ever atone, but she thought maybe she could go on living. So she forced herself back to her feet and began the long, painful walk home.

  EIGHT

  I

  Lita dropped into the driver’s seat of Rain’s car and tossed her knapsack into the seat next to her. She felt the key slide effortlessly into the ignition and she gave it a turn. The sound of the engine roaring to life made her jump, and she quickly looked over her shoulder towards the house. A moment passed, and then she sighed a curling fog into the cool night air. That drug was strong enough to put even Rain down for at least two hours. She could drive this car through the living room and it wouldn’t wake them.

  Turning back around, she adjusted the rearview mirror and put the car in gear. With each step she had to remind herself what she was doing. It had been a long time since she’d driven a car, particularly a stick. As she slipped her hands over the smooth leather of the steering wheel, she shifted her braking foot to the gas and slowly started letting out the clutch.

  The car sputtered, lurched, and died.

  “Dammit,” she muttered, smacking the steering wheel.

  Smooth, she thought. Stalling a car. Trademark of a seasoned assassin. She let out another sigh and shook her head. Cut the nerves, cut the bullshit. Start the car and let’s get this shit moving. She nodded to herself and started the car once more.

  The second round went more smoothly, and a short time later Lita was leaving the clearing around the brothers’ house via the narrow dirt path, headed toward the main road.

  Making her way at a reasonable speed, she stared unyieldingly into the illuminated field of view created by the headlamps. Although her eyes were firm, her hands shifted nervously over the steering wheel as if of their own volition. It wasn’t until she approached the T intersection of the main road that she realized she was doing it and forced herself to stop.

  She halted at the intersection and stayed there for a few minutes, looking back and forth from left to right.

  Left would take her back to Maple City. She had a car now, and enough front money to live off of for quite some time. She could just pack up all her things and head out for western Ayenee. It was quiet over there. Maybe find a newer, nicer tavern to work in. Pick up a halfway decent wage and just be left the hell alone.

  Right meant complete freedom from this manmade and godforsaken continent. This breeding ground for all things wrong in this world. This bearer of her darkest secrets.

  Her hands tightened on the wheel, and in a single moment of unfettered resolve, she turned right onto the main road and began her way towards Chicane. There was no way she could have known how much that one decision would alter the course of her life.

  II

  Lita picked up speed now that she was out on the open road and getting comfortable with this car. Inside, she began systematically deadening anything that might hold her back once she arrived. She stalked her mind, searching for the exact thing that was attempting to dissuade her so that she could give it a good killing.

  It wasn’t that the target was a young girl, though she initially thought it might have been. While Lita was aware that there was a time when fifteen was considered childhood, she also knew that such a time had long since passed in their world. In a place like Ayenee, you grew up fast. Even Alex would be considered a man by most people.

  She shook her head at that, trying to push awa
y any thought of those two for the time being. In whatever small part of her resided an underdeveloped conscience, she felt bad for what she’d done to them. Alex had been decent to her, far more so than anyone else she’d encountered in a long time. Even Rain had been hospitable in what must have been his own way.

  She shook her head again and forced her mind back to the job at hand. So it wasn’t the age of the target. Fifteen was a woman in her eyes, especially given that the girl had been born a politician. She’d have been raised to be an adult since birth. This had been a possibility her whole life, it just happened to be coming about tonight.

  Was it the fact that the target was of such an important political stature? Lita had never cared much for putting down prominent figures, although there had been only a couple in her tenure. She didn’t like the notion that her actions had such a radiating influence on so many lives. Granted, it was just another job, one that would have been done by someone else if not her, but it still meant she played a pivotal role in some alteration of history. It made her feel…noticeable. A sensation she despised.

  In the end, she decided the variable in this situation that made her uneasy was Jonas’ unnamed employer. He had sworn Cleric wasn’t involved, but she didn’t believe that. She only wanted to believe it. No passage of time would ever, in Lita’s opinion, change Jonas’ undying loyalty to that son of a bitch. But even if Cleric was in on this, someone still had to hire them, someone who could afford the outrageous price tag she had placed on her services. That’s what was putting her on edge. The more powerful the employer, the less they could be trusted, and there was no trusting anyone with pockets that deep.

  But it was too late to quibble over such things now. The job was taken, and the best Lita could hope for was to put a bullet in her target and not have to put a few more in anyone who might stand between her and the rest of her pay.

  The ground under the tires changed texture and the car’s smooth ride took on a low vibration as she hit cobblestone, marking the extreme outskirts of Chicane. As if somehow connected to that very change in the road, she suddenly found herself thrust into a dense fog and she smiled at her good fortune. She couldn’t ask for better infiltration weather.

  Getting close now, she took a deep breath, and with it she started picturing glaciers. She remembered her schoolteacher explaining them when she was young, and the notion still awed her to this day. Mountains of ice, so powerful that they could cut through solid land. It was magnificent.

  But tonight, her reasons for drawing up the imagery were much more useful than nostalgia. In thinking about the bitter cold of those frozen peaks, she could almost feel a thick layer of ice forming around her heart. Her skin tightened, muscles tensing. She was shut off emotionally and primed physically. She could do this.

  III

  Lita squinted as a bright light pierced through the fog. Realizing as she got closer that it was a checkpoint, she quickly snatched her handgun from where it rested on the seat next to her and tucked it under her knapsack. She rarely came to Chicane, so she had nearly forgotten that these guard stations had been erected at every entrance to the city six months ago in attempt to quell the illegal traffic that regularly passed through here. Rolling to a stop outside the booth—its bright red paint penetrating the fog almost as much as its search light—she took a deep, calming breath as the guard approached.

  He was a tall, slender man, not much older than her. Lita cranked down the window as he stooped to peer in at her. “Evening, ma’am,” he said, his breath casting out a thick fog that mixed with the haze all around and glowed as it passed over the headlights. Lita nodded in return. “It’s awfully late to be out for a drive. May I ask your intended business in Chicane?”

  “Just looking for an inn to pass out at for the night,” she replied.

  The guard tilted his head, looking over the vehicle for a moment. “This sure is a nice car,” he said. She knew what he was implying. A vehicle like this didn’t look like it ought to belong to the thrown-together tomboy behind the wheel, her old knapsack riding shotgun.

  “It’s my husband’s,” Lita shot back, off the cuff. “I just found out he’s been diddling the maid, so I thought I’d come into town, head to a few taverns, blow off some steam on his pocket.” She flashed him a broad grin. “What time are you off, sir? Perhaps you’d like to join me for a drink later.”

  The guard chuckled and Lita felt her tension dissolve. He’d fallen for it. “Not until dawn, ma’am. Long after your fun will be over, I’m sure. You have a safe night, you hear? And try not to dent up this pretty car in all this fog.”

  Lita flashed the smile again and topped it off with a wink. “I might just dent it up on purpose to teach that bastard a lesson.” The guard laughed and stood, patting his hand on the roof twice before retreating to his booth. As Lita cranked up the window and dropped the car back into gear, her smile disappeared, her features going cold again.

  The remainder of the drive to the High Palace was brief. It stood near the west side of the city, close to the border of the Maplewood Forest, and for a very specific reason. The road Lita had come in on was not considered the main point of entry to the city. That was Gabriel’s Passage—the large, well-maintained highway that ran south from Silver City and straight into the heart of Chicane. The High Palace had been built near the forest wall both to keep it far removed from that main thoroughfare and to allow the city’s leader quick egress in the event of attack.

  Across the street from this side of the palace sat a small cemetery. Lita pulled up on the opposite side of it and killed the engine. Pulling over her knapsack, she retrieved her firearm and then dug out her job file and laid it open on her lap. After spending some time carefully reviewing the contents once more—paying particular attention to the parts detailing the palace’s layout—she slapped the folder closed and shoved it back into her knapsack. She then put her hair up into a bun and covered it with a black stocking cap she produced from her bag. Though she despised hats, she knew her light hair would shine like a beacon under the nearly full moon, even in this dense fog. Finally, she loaded her various cargo pockets with a few more supplies from her bag: a small flashlight, a magnesium flare, and a pair of foot-long black metal spikes.

  Slipping out of the car and into the cool night, Lita shoved her handgun into her belt, rolled her turtleneck up over her mouth, and headed into the cemetery.

  IV

  The trip across the graveyard went without incident, save for a near stumble over a lowlying footstone. Lita chastised herself for being so out of practice. Coming to the road at the far side, she crouched behind a gravestone and peered both ways down the street, which was dimly illuminated by the shrouded moon. Seeing no signs of life, she sprinted across the way and ducked into the well-maintained laurel bushes just outside the palace wall. It never ceased to amaze her how often people planted this convenient sort of cover just to hide the presence of a wall. Aesthetics and proper security did not go hand-in-hand.

  Rising slowly, Lita traced her finger over the mortar between the wall’s bricks, looking for a weak place. Finally seizing on a small crevice, she fished one of the metal spikes from her pocket and, with a single grunting thrust, buried it a few inches into the crumbled spot and shook it to confirm its hold. After paying a quick glance about to make sure she was still alone, she hopped up, planted one foot on the spike, and used it to vault over the wall.

  She landed on the other side with a light thud in the grass, immediately dropping to a crouch and peering ahead up a small hill leading to an orchard. The trees would offer her good cover, but there was a nearly thirty-foot gap between her and them where the ground dipped enough that she would be completely visible beneath the fog. She would have to make a dead sprint for the tree line, lest some perimeter guard catch sight of her.

  She gazed down the wall in both directions and, seeing no one, took off across the small clearing, staying as low as possible. Reaching the orchard, she proceeded past the first row
of trees and ducked into the second one, sliding down to a crouch with her back to a trunk, facing back the way she came.

  And not just in time. No sooner had she secured her position than a bright beam of light cut through the fog from down the row to her left. Lowering her eyes, Lita concentrated on keeping her breathing light and shallow as she slipped her hand silently back to draw her gun and bring it down to her side.

  As she remained crouched, motionless, she saw the light begin bobbing up and down in time with the sound of approaching footsteps. A moment later, a slightly heavyset guard passed right by her, only to stop less than five feet away. He was close enough that she could reach out and grab the back of his calf, should she feel so inclined.

  Lita raised her weapon slowly, holding her breath as she aimed it at the small of the man’s back. But he took no notice of her, instead aiming his flashlight down the hill towards the wall, trying to decide if he had heard something from there.

  A long moment of tense silence followed before a noise cut through the night from far to the right, nearly causing Lita to jump and definitely making the guard hop a few inches. It was the snarl of two entangled felines, screaming at each other from somewhere on the far side of the orchard.

  “Goddamn cats,” the guard muttered, sighing as he headed off in that direction to investigate. Once he departed, Lita let out all the burning air from her lungs as slowly as she could, trying to fight off the enormous knot that had just tied itself up in her stomach.

  But now was not the time to dwell on the close call. Having brushed passed one guard making his rounds, there was a good chance she didn’t risk seeing another before getting inside. Rounding the tree to the left, she held her gun out in front of her and moved in a crouched run down the row towards the palace. Only about a hundred feet to go.