by A. Sparrow
“Silence!” said Yaqob.
“So where would we be welcome?” said Hailay. “Those of us who come from the Deeps, who among us would be allowed into Penult?”
“Well, Penult would be out of the question for some. But of course you would be more than welcome to return to the underworld.”
“To Root?”
“And maybe, perhaps, we arrange for the allowance of some small enclave on the surface. Remember, we are still in the midst of negotiating.”
“Fuck them,” said Hailay. “I say we stay and fight.”
Murmurs of approval erupted amongst the onlookers.
“As I have told you all, I am not entirely against the action you propose against Penult,” said Zhang. “If it could be guaranteed that we could make a significant impact, a successful raid would grant us leverage. If we fail, though, it would be disastrous. We would lose all credibility, all chance of mercy.”
“We won’t fail,” said Olivier. “I guarantee we’ll hit them hard.”
“I wish I could be as confident,” said Zhang. “But as I see it, we have no choice but to work a deal. The resources of the Erelim are inexhaustable. We have done very well to persist here as long as we have against them. They have underestimated everything about us. Our wits. Our strength. Our resolve. But we cannot hold out indefinitely. Almost half of our forces are Hemisouls. How do we sustain a defense with warriors who disappear and reappear at random? Our Freesouls do not suffice to provide our forces the stability they require.”
“All the more reason to hit them,” said Olivier. “Hit them so hard they beg for a truce.”
Zhang snickered. “Beg? The Erelim do not beg.”
“Not yet,” said Olivier. “But only because they’ve never been punched in the face hard enough. These guys need a taste of their own medicine. I say we take them down with their own weapons of mass destruction.”
The crowd again grew excited.
“Oh?” said Zhang. “And how many columns do we have now? Has wonder boy here managed another breakthrough?”
Olivier elbowed me and I nodded.
“Even if we have ten columns, a hundred, I am still not convinced this is the right course to take,” said Zhang. “Miss Victoria has indicated to me that such an approach may not achieve the effect you seek. It may only serve to inflame our … partners.”
“Partners?” said Reznak. “Do you not mean enemies?”
“Partners … in negotiation. If we are going to speak with them in good faith, we need to treat each other like the fellow humans we all are.”
Olivier cleared his throat and raised his voice. “I propose we let you go ahead and talk to them through your envoys. But in the meantime we show them what we can do. Only then we come to terms.”
“We have no time for such follies,” said Zhang. “Their forces are literally at our doorstep. How long can we hold out? What use is a raid if New Axum falls before you even reach Penult’s shores?”
“According to the scouts, we only need two days max if we go by bug,” said Olivier. “One day to reach the shore. Half a day to cross the straits. And then just a couple hours maybe to reconnoiter and deploy the crackers. Who here doesn’t think our defenses can hold on for just another couple days?”
“At the rate things are going,” said Wilson. “I doubt we last a day.”
“How can you say that?” said Olivier. “Have you even seen your people fight? The defenders on the lower rim fended off seven attacks before they were forced to pull back. Your people … Frelsians … Dusters … fighting shoulder to shoulder. And we still have the Old Ones in reserve.”
“Vote!” said Reznak. “I call a vote.”
“Second!” said Yaqob. “But first we remove the traitor.”
Zhang looked hurt. “It does no harm if Victoria stays. She will know the outcome anyway.”
“Remove her!” Yaqob bellowed. “Now!”
Zhang sighed and had his aides come over to help Victoria to her feet and lead her out of the chamber. Her face remained blank. In her current state, she seemed to pose no more threat than a radish, but who knew what calculations were cranking behind those vacant eyes?
“In Victoria’s absence, I appoint my most trusted advisor, Mr. Harold Wilson to vote in her place,” said Zhang. Wilson smiled and nodded.
“Agreed,” said Yaqob. “Reznak and I will vote for our people.”
Zhang turned to the Old Ones. “You two are the current representatives I presume? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your names.”
The Old Ones said nothing. They just sat and blinked at Zhang.
Zhang looked around the table. “Are they … even aware? Of what is happening here?”
“Don’t you worry,” said Yaqob. “They know what’s what.”
“So let us vote. Now,” said Reznak.
“Olivier. James. I hope you will forgive us,” said Zhang. “You’ve only arrived quite recently and we haven’t yet agreed whether the underworld should be represented.”
“Not a problem,” said Olivier. “Not sure we want to represent Luther anyway. But thanks for the chance to state our case.”
“Alright. Those in favor of peace will please place a green chip on the table,” said Zhang. “Red chips will represent assent for going forth with a raid on Penult. Majority rules. Any tie will be decided by the council chair.”
“What? You?” said Yaqob.
“Yes. Me. As you might recall, those were the ground rules when we formed this council.”
Yaqob grimaced at Reznak. I leaned over and whispered to Olivier. “The Old Ones haven’t said a word the whole time. Which way do you think they’re leaning?”
“Kid. I haven’t got a clue. It wouldn’t surprise me if they abstained. You never know where their heads are gonna be.”
Zhang slapped a green chip on the table. Wilson quickly followed with a green chip of his own. Yaqob and Reznak surprised no one by slapping down their red chips.
The Old Ones just sat there as if they were daydreaming. I suspected they were tapped into the Singularity and were reading the tides, fishing for whatever consensus they could gather from the myriad souls that made up their constituency. At no point had either showed their hand by expressing an opinion one way or another in the deliberations. In all of the recent fighting, none had contributed to the defense of the lower terrace.
The room went silent as life gradually flowed back into the Old Ones’ faces. Their expressions softened. Their eyes grew bright and alert. They reached out their hands, chips clasped firmly in their shriveled hands. Each placed a chip down on the table. Both were red.
Chapter 52: Escape from Aberdeen
That night, back in my quarters deep in the warren, I was way too nervous for sleep. In the morning I’d be flying on the back of a giant man-eating insect to a place unfamiliar and dangerous. Not the best combination for a good night’s rest.
Without sleep, there were no dreams, and no escape from the darkness closing in on me. There was no possibility of communing with the Singularity, no glimpses of Karla. It was horrible, sitting there in the chilly darkness of my stony room. I flashbacks to the feeling I had as a prisoner in that church basement.
At least all was quiet in New Axum. It was one small mercy that the warriors of Penult never attacked at night.
And then everything changed. Every perception shifted. Sounds, odors, touch. I could hear a motor whirring somewhere close, an engine whining in the distance. The dust and must of the stone chamber was replaced by some kind of floral perfume blended with the aroma of dirty socks. My rough, homespun canvas blanket was replaced by sleek and smooth cotton sheeting.
And I realized I was no longer in the Liminality. I had faded. This was not the same luxurious hotel suite I had found myself in Glasgow. The shades were drawn but the light of a grey dawn seeped around the edges. This room had two double beds packed in close with a night stand between them. I occupied one. Helen and Jessica occupied the other, sleeping soundly aft
er another long day of amateur detective work.
I pulled my covers off and sat up, nearly fainting from the rush of blood. I was parched and hungry and my head throbbed like a hammered thumb. There was a half empty bottle of Highland Spring and some leftovers in a plastic container on the TV stand. I polished off the bottle and wolfed down hunks of cold lasagna with my hands.
I checked the clock. It was a little five a.m.. Various brochures and maps were strewn about the desk. I raised the shades slightly to let in more light and saw that every pamphlet had something to do with Aberdeen. Why Aberdeen? Had the ladies gotten a hot lead on Karla’s whereabouts? My heart started to thump. I wasn’t even sure I was ready to see Karla in person yet. I just didn’t know what I would say to her, I was so upset about what she had done.
I noticed a sheet of paper on the floor next to the door and an envelope beside it. I tiptoed over to avoid waking the ladies but I shouldn’t have worried. There was a mostly drained bottle of scotch on the bed. They slumbered deep and drunk.
The first sheet was a note from the hotel staff warning that the credit that had been provided had failed to clear authorization due to a hold and to please stop by the front desk as soon as possible to arrange for an alternative form of payment.
Then envelope was addressed specifically to me. I slipped out the note it contained and unfolded it. My stomach quaked as I read the scrawl.
“Leave Aberdeen ASAP or die. The Friends are on to you and after you.”
My heart commenced to thump and I threw on the clothes someone had folded neatly for me on the bedside chair. I stuffed an extra pair of clean socks and underwear into the pockets of my hoodie and grabbed a pen and a sheet of hotel stationery from the desk.
Dear Helen, Jessica, Fiona and Britt,
“The chase is over. It’s time for me to go somewhere quiet and lay low. Thank you so much for all you did for me. Just so you know, you guys don’t need to worry about Karla anymore. I saw her. She’s fine. No one ever kidnapped her. She ran off on her own. So you can all go home now.
Love,
James
P.S. Be very careful around Aberdeen. Someone appears to be looking for me.
It was a bit terse, but I hope it conveyed my gratitude and warned them sufficiently of any potential risks they faced.
I slipped out the door and closed it behind me as gently as I could. As I made my way down to the lobby, I fished around my pocket for the ivory credit card that was no longer worth the plastic it was printed on. I sighed, seeing how little cash I had left, took the card and stuck it in a heat register along the wall. I should have known that it would only be a matter of time before the Friends of Penult figured out I had broken my promise.
I was actually surprised it had taken them so long to intervene, and that fact alone gave me hope. It told me that they were less than godly. They were not nearly as all knowing and omnipresent as they liked to make people believe. They were just people like me, and capable of laziness and incompetence.
I left the hotel without the slightest of where I should be going. It was cool out. Overcast, but the pavements were dry. The sky looked more like it wanted to clear than to rain.
I decided my priority should be to get out of town by the least predictable means possible. So I turned down the first narrow alley I came to, followed it to the end, and at the juncture, flipped a coin to determine which way to turn. It turned out to be a stupid thing to do, leading in a circle that would have taken me back to the hotel had I not abandoned that plan.
When I came upon a larger street I just went straight, keeping my hand clasped around the pen I had taken from the hotel, hoping might serve as a suitable focus for my will in lieu of a sword.
The streets proved empty except for a single drunk man in a tie and raincoat. I played hopscotch with a newspaper van delivering bundles of freshly printed tabloids to every newsstand along the route. When I came to a bridge, I crossed it, and on the other side found a road sign pointing to Inverness, 240 km. That was the last place I wanted to go at this point, but I continued onward, seeking only to get the hell out of Aberdeen and put some distance between me and the ladies, for their safety if nothing else. Maybe at some point I could veer south, though I realized that might send me into the Cairn Gorms again, the mere thought of which made me shiver. Better to hug the coast maybe, to Dundee and Perth.
A small blue Vauxhall pulled out of a space and rolled slowly up to me when I reached the main drag. The passenger window rolled down. A youngish man with sideburns and longish red hair peered out.
“You look like someone who could use a ride out of town.”
“Um. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“No. Seriously. Get in. It’s not safe for you out here.”
I took a step back.
“How do I know you’re not with the Friends?”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card.
“Here.” He handed me a black, carbon fiber credit card just like the one I had once gotten from Wendell, with my name in glossy black letters over a matte background.
“Keep this one. It’s yours. The white card they gave you? Destroy it. It’s how they track you.”
“I already got rid of it.”
“Good! Now hop in. We need to whisk you away from here.”
“Was it you who stuck that note under our door?”
“Reggie’s the name. Didn’t expect you to go rambling off on foot, but glad to see you took us seriously.”
“Do you work for Wendell?”
“Let’s just say we share the same employer. Come on. Hop in. I’ll get you out of here.”
Footsteps clattered on the pavement behind me.
“James!”
“You know her? Is she a threat?” Reggie lunged over and reached into the glove compartment.
I turned. Jessica, flannel shirt dangling over pajama bottoms, was running across the bridge barefoot.
“No. It’s just Jess.”
Something popped across the street. The driver’s side window splintered, forming a many-pointed star. Reggie grunted and slumped. A perfectly round and blood-rimmed hole had appeared in his temple.
I yanked opened the door and dragged him out of the driver’s seat, taking his place. Jessica arrived breathless and aghast at the sight of the dying man lying in the roadway.
“Get your ass in here and get down!”
Another pop. The next bullet took out what remained of the window glass and passed inches from my cheek, miraculously missing my face. I could almost smell it as it hurtled by.
Jessica was halfway in the door when I squealed away from the bridge, forgetting where I was for an instant and driving on the wrong side of the road. This was the UK, you idiot.
***
It took a good five minutes for Jessica to catch her breath.
“James. What is happening here?” she said. “Who shot that poor, poor man? And why did we steal his car?”
“It’s the bad guys, Jess. The bad guys are onto me.”
“May I ask … which … bad guys? Sedevacantists? Those assassins? The drug dealers?”
“Nope. None of the above. This time it’s the Friends.”
“Friends? I’m sorry?”
“The Friends of Penult. They work for those angel wannabes in the Liminality. They’re trying to exterminate us, first there and now here.”
Jessica looked confused. I didn’t blame her, but I didn’t bother to explain it any more detail. Maybe the less she knew, the better. I already felt bad for dragging her into this web.
As I drove, I spent more time looking in the rear view mirror than through the windshield. So far so good, the only headlights I saw were not keeping up with us.
“Where are we going?” asked Jessica.
“Your guess is as good as mine. Any suggestions?”
“Why don’t we go to the police?”
“Fuck no! If they detain me I’ll be … we’ll bit sitting ducks for whoever is coming a
fter us.”
She sighed. “Alright. Would you rather we go somewhere and hide? Someplace remote, perhaps, with limited access?”
“Yeah. That sounds good. What do you suggest?”
“Well. My aunt has a cottage in the Orkney Islands. We go there on holiday from time to time but no one’s living there at the moment. I know where she stashes the key.”
“How do you get there from here?”
“Follow the A96 to Inverness, and then go north on the A9.”
***
At first we drove evasively, without apparent aim, turning south along the shore then west towards the mountains, before making our way back up north to catch the A96.
The wind blasted Jess through the shattered window. She daubed at specks of poor Reggie’s blood with a Kleenex and tossed away bits of broken window glass.
We passed endless farms and fields. Around every curve, at every junction, I expected roadblocks. Every car that overtook us, I feared was the police or the Friends. But for four hours we drove unmolested, stopping in Inverness only to use the loo and grab a sandwich. We were headed now for a place called Thurso, where Jess said we could catch a ferry.
“Do you know any place we can ditch this car?”
“The ferry terminal has a car park.”
“Well, no. We need someplace where no one would find it right away. Otherwise, it’ll be traced to us on the island. You realize we’re gonna be murder suspects.”
“M-murder? Oh my.” Her eyes glazed. Her posture stiffened as she considered the implications of my remark.
“Are there any cliffs around maybe we can roll this thing off?”
“Actually, yes. Up on the headlands, there are plenty.” She patted the upholstery and frowned. “But….”
“What’s wrong?”
“Such a shame to ruin this nice Vauxhall.”
“Never mind that. I’ll buy you a new one. Come on, show me how to get there.”
We drove a little further down the paved road, passing Thurso town and the ferry port, and continued north to some fields and moors where we turned up a rough track leading through some overgrown and shrubby ledges to the edge of the cliffs.