Day of Darkness

by LC Champlin

  “Oh, so you finally admit we’re relatives?”

  “No. Blood makes one related, but loyalty makes one family. If you do not come now, I will strip everything from you. It is your choice.” Albin spread his hands as if holding the two options.

  “You’re going to strip this neighborhood from me?” Mr. Serebus’s teeth flashed in a grin. “What about the people? What will they do? They’re sheep, too weak and stupid to find their own food or to protect themselves. Ah, but that’s right, you want them to go to the government, which slaughters anyone who inconveniences it.” Did he know of the massacre at the cloverleaf?

  “The people in this neighborhood will not allow you to use your precious building. I have seen to that.”

  Mr. Serebus went still—the stillness in the eye of a hurricane. “Are you offering them something better than what my leadership can provide?”

  “I can offer them something better than a man who risked their lives by activating the frequency broadcast.”

  “Did you expect me to hand the power over to the government? I would’ve been out of my mind to do anything other than what I did.” He resumed stalking the perimeter of the pool.

  “And Carolyn? You shot her in cold blood.” Images of the woman choking on her own blood intruded.

  Mr. Serebus bared his teeth. “It was an accident.”

  Albin regarded him for a moment. It felt wholly unnatural to stand against the man whom he had respected for almost a decade. “If you refuse to accompany me now, I will tell Redwood Shores, as well as the Musters, that you were with the Red Devil Goats all along. I will explain that you orchestrated Zander’s kidnapping, and that the negotiations with Red Chief, were fabricated.”

  “Is that so?” Mr. Serebus raised a brow, retaining his relaxed demeanor, prepared for instant action. The eye of the storm made a person wish for the winds to come so as to relieve the crushing pressure. “God brought me for a reason. I am the wolf that will chase down the prey. I have become Fenrir, bringer of the end and the beginning. God has chosen me. My people will follow me because He has set me over them. I deserve this.”

  “Divine Right?” Utter madness. “You are but a poorer version of the despots who rule Third-World nations. You even have the temerity to use God as a justification.”

  “Disbelief doesn’t nullify the truth. We shouldn’t be alive except that He chose us.”

  “You are a megalomaniac bent on acquiring power by any means necessary. I asked you what we were striving for, and you replied we were ‘in the business of domination.’” Albin shook his head, teeth gritted. “Your father-in-law was correct about you. I should have taken his advice and left you the instant I learned of your file snooping and corporate espionage.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” Mr. Serebus laughed in disbelief. “If working with me was so detestable, why didn’t you hire on with the old man?”

  “I remained because of Janine, and then because of David.” And because I respected you. “Do you remember them?” Albin lifted his chin as the last card entered play.

  “What would you suggest I do? Teleport to New York?” The circling ceased as Mr. Serebus faced Albin fully. “Of course I want to go back, but in due time. While I’m here, I’ll make the most of this crisis. If you attempt to stop me, God will give you into my hand just as He’s given this place to me.”

  Insanity of the highest order. “These people follow you because you offer them protection and power, just as the German people followed Hitler when he offered security and prestige.”

  The megalomaniac stepped back. “I have better things to do than be called Hitler. Now leave. If I were as dangerous as you claim, I would have had you shot by now.”

  Threats? So they at last arrived at the end . . . “Are you capable of murdering someone whom you called your best friend less than a week ago and whom you worked with for eight years?”

  “I’m sorry, but have you forgotten that you shot me in the chest?” He pointed to the place the bullet had struck. “Is that not attempted murder? I’m only finishing what you started. Call it delayed self-defense.”

  Chapter 49

  Not Blood

  I Won’t Back Down - Johnny Cash

  “I believe you are bluffing.” Albin played a dangerous game with the madman, but one often had to wait for another’s action before responding. A move made in anger caused mistakes.

  “And what about you? Are you waiting for a more convenient time to attack?”

  “I know where you live. If I were as dangerous as you think, I would have killed you already.”

  “You want credit for not murdering me?” Incredulous, Mr. Serebus shook his head. “I’ve had enough of this stupidity. I have a building to secure.” Turning, he stormed off the pool deck.

  When he reached the edge of the sidewalk, a livid Mason marched up to him. “Nathan, I don’t believe that building will suit you as well as you think.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Let me rephrase that.” Mason thrust his chest out to in the manner of a frog inflating itself to appear intimidating. “We don’t want you there. Or here.”

  “What did you say?” Mr. Serebus advanced, shoulders back, fingers curled into fists at his sides.

  Mason folded his arms. “You heard me. We don’t want to be involved with you or your people. Maybe your people are all right, but I can’t trust you.” He raised his hands to forestall argument. “I think we can manage on our own. We’re not as stupid or weak as you think. We can protect ourselves well enough. We don’t want to side with someone who thinks murder is okay. Even if you don’t kill us, you’ll take risks with people’s lives. That’s not for us.”

  Mr. Serebus opened his mouth to reply, then snapped his jaws closed again, clenching them so the vessels on this temples pulsed. “You eavesdropped on our conversation.”

  “No, we were invited.” Mason lifted his walkie-talkie. “We heard every word of it. Now get out before we kick your ass to the curb. Unless of course you’re going to gun us all down first. You could, I suppose. But I don’t know that even your people would like that. This is California, not some Texan or Southern backwoods town where you can take justice into your own hands. We have rights.”

  “Rights?” The invader towered over Mason. “You have exactly one right, and that’s the right to die. We won’t kill you if you don’t side with us, but starvation will. Barring that, you will fall to the cannibals or looters, which may be a more pleasant death.”

  “Looters like you? Leave. Now.”

  “Move.” Mr. Serebus shoved past, not swayed in the least by Mason’s effort to stand his ground. Instead, he backhanded the young man across the shoulder blades, nearly knocking him to his knees. “You can’t even handle a push, but you think you can defend this place from cannibals and gangs? Pathetic.”

  Regaining his balance, Mason composed himself. “I wouldn’t go any farther down Shorebird Circle if I were you; those tires aren’t going to stand up well to nails. There’s not going to be anything in the building you want by the time you get there if you keep pushing.”

  “I warn you, we won’t tolerate you stealing our equipment.” Mr. Serebus glared at the rebel.

  “We’ll let you have your things back. We’re not like you.” Though Mason’s voice shook, he held the aggressor’s gaze.

  “More’s the pity.”

  Behrmann and a shaggy-haired young man approached, as did several members of the convoy.

  “Is everything all right, Nathan?” asked the young recruit, eyeing Mason with suspicion. “Do you want us to do something?” Judging by his expression, the action would prove quite unpleasant for the receiver.

  More of the convoy members gathered, evidently forgetting any role other than onlooker. Questions from the assembled peppered the two neighborhood leaders: “What’s going on?”

  “Are we leaving?”

  “This kid isn’t going to stop you, is he?”
<
br />   “We can take them on, but it’s our neighbors. What would I say to my wife?”

  The eager boy who thought himself Mr. Serebus’s lieutenant advised, “You can’t let them stop you. We need this so we can stop the cannibals!”

  “Let’s go,” barked Mr. Serebus as he jerked his head toward the vehicles. “We’re going to collect our equipment.”

  “No,” Mason declared, taking a step forward. “We’ll bring it to you. If you go back to your side, there won’t be a problem.”

  With the speed and ferocity of a lunging wolf, Mr. Serebus seized Mason by the front of his shirt. “I know the problem in this situation.” He thrust the shocked neighborhood leader away and turned his glare upon Albin. “You are the problem.”

  If Mr. Serebus continued on his present course, he might resort to violence against the people. “Sir, I will relieve you of Redwood Shores proper as well if you do not leave of your own volition.”

  “Yes.” Mr. Serebus looked down, turning away slightly. “I believe you’re right. I’m sorry.” On the last word, he swung about with his Glock leveled at Albin, oblivious to the warnings from those around him. Demonic fury flared in the madman’s eyes.

  Albin threw himself leftward, into the apartment.

  “I could kill you now,” Mr. Serebus’s voice boomed from outside. “But I’ll be merciful and let you live. Get out. There’s no place for weak people like you here—alive, anyway.”

  Panting, Albin leaned against the wall. Cold numbness replaced the pain of loss. “Indeed, sir,” he breathed, “there is no longer a place for me here, but neither is there a place for you. When I am finished, you will be apologizing—and you will truly mean it.”

  Chapter 50

  Avenger of Blood

  Broken Halo - Days of Jupiter

  Red fog throbbed at the periphery of Nathan’s vision as he advanced on the door that sheltered the traitor. The bastard had stolen the best chance of controlling the cannibals. Blood would flow for this! He had doomed the Bay Area.

  Nathan wrenched the door open and swung in, pistol up. Nothing.

  Static buzzed. No, not static, voices. “Nathan. Nathan!” Pressure on his shoulder. He whirled, elbow ready to engage in close-quarters combat.

  Josephine jumped back in surprise. “Nathan, what are you doing? Stop.”

  “I can’t let him go. I have to make an example of him.”

  “Think first.” She spread her arms in supplication. “This isn’t like you. Don’t do something you’ll regret. Come on, everyone’s watching. Don’t make a bigger mess of this.”

  “I’ll make it worse, is that what you’re saying?” Just like Albin said. Nathan spun back to the Judas’s escape route. That bastard would kill him as quickly as he would kill a cannibal. Albin came here not to talk but to make his former employer suffer for hurting his bleeding-heart ego.

  “Come on, Nathan. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure that everyone on our side hears a good report of you.”

  “See that they hear a bad report of Albin Conrad.” Damage control with a hefty dose of blame. Give the people a target to hate, then he could consider the best way to proceed.

  “We’ll find another place for the research,” Josephine reassured him. “There are plenty of tech and bio-research companies around.”

  With a last glance around, Nathan shoved the pistol back into its holster. “We will win, and he will suffer.”

  Outside, he brushed past Mason—and Brad, who emerged after the danger had subsided. “Everyone.” Nathan waved to the convoy members as he climbed into the Sierra. “We’re going home. These people don’t want our help.”

  “Nathan!” Mason strode forward as if he owned the title to the neighborhood. He glanced about to see if anyone listened, then leaned in, a yard from Nathan. Another inch would have earned him a palm-heel to the face. “If the Redwood Shores southern half didn’t already know about who and what you are, I would gladly tell them. I don’t want anyone else falling into your insane hands. You’re a bigot and hate monger. You only want to—”

  Nathan slammed the door. He gunned the engine and accelerated back along Seabird Circle.

  The return trip passed in silence, at least for Nathan. Josephine prattled on about how Albin didn’t understand the situation, how he had sided with the wrong people, and how he would regret not helping Redwood Shores. All true.

  Nathan pulled up to his driveway. A chalk drawing marred the cement where he usually parked: A rough sketch of a hound standing over the body of a fanged wolf. Above it, the words, Semper paratus. Para bellum. Below it, Cursum perficio.

  “I see the kids have been busy,” Josephine remarked. “They’re pretty good!”

  Nathan stopped breathing, even as his heart performed a triple kick that made him grunt and his chest ache. The acid in his stomach burned, more corrosive than that from battery terminals. “That fucking bastard.”

  Feeling slid into oblivion. Nathan’s consciousness floated over his body. Then the fires of rage exploded about him, snapping reality back with the force of an anchor chain breaking. Energy surged, obliterating thought. “Prepare for war? If he wants war, I’ll give him war. Coming into my territory—to my house. The fucking coward crept in like a fucking rat and left this shit to taunt me. You accomplish the hunt, do you? Yes, as the prey.”

  Josephine stared at him, uncomprehending.

  Snarling, Nathan threw the vehicle in park and shoved the door open. At that moment, Amanda and her daughters emerged from the house. They stopped when they saw him slam the door.

  He glanced their way. Keep up appearances! He passed his hand over his face, wiping his mouth on his forearm as if to physically remove the expression.

  One, two, three—

  “Nathan, what’s the matter?” Amanda approached with a caution people normally reserved for dealing with a rabid animal.

  “Are you okay?” asked Denver. Then the chalk drawing caught her eye. “Who did that?”

  “Albin. Conrad.”

  “Cool! He didn’t say he was going to leave a picture.”

  Nathan froze. “What do you mean, ‘he didn’t say’?” He stepped closer to tower over her. “Well?”

  She looked away, chewing her lip and edging nearer her mother. “He told me not to tell. He said he wanted it to be a surprise—”

  “Denver,” Amanda cut her off. “What are you talking about? Is Albin back? Why didn’t he tell us?”

  “Because he doesn’t want to,” Nathan grated. She couldn’t understand the severity of the schism. “Apparently I’ve offended his ego, and he wants to make everyone suffer for it.” He spat in disgust, muscles trembling with the urge to attack his absent enemy. “We have to make certain he doesn’t cause more havoc.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Due to his lies, our neighbors across the channel no longer want our involvement. He’ll sacrifice everything for his revenge, including the safety of the Bay Area. He’s not going to see reason, and he’s not going to rejoin me.”

  “The building—”

  Closing his eyes, Nathan shook his head. “They won’t let us near it.”

  “But he didn’t do anything bad here!” Denver butted in. “He just came and drew a picture. And talked to me. He was nice, like always. He even gave me beef jerky.”

  Anger coiled in Nathan like a viper readying to strike. “If he wants to make a show of it, then I will certainly oblige him.” The next time Albin appeared . . . I will kill him myself.

  Chapter 51

  Messengers

  Nothing Better - The Postal Service

  Dropping to one knee in front of Denver, Amanda took her by the shoulders. “Denver, honey, if you see Albin again, tell us first. Don’t go out to talk to him.”

  “But he’s—”

  “Obey your mother,” Nathan ordered, eyes still on the chalk drawing. Albin could have kidnapped the girl, holding her hostage to force Nathan out
of leadership. Why hadn’t he? Appearance, of course. The coward didn’t want to play the villain. And he claimed to have determination? Ha!

  “It’s just safer this way,” Josephine addressed Denver, wearing a plastic smile that would fail to reassure anyone but a blind dog.

  “Go inside, honey.” Patting Denver’s cheek, her mother straightened.

  “Aw.” But the girl obeyed.

  When Denver passed from earshot, Amanda turned to Nathan, concern shadowing her expression. “Nathan, we had an incident while you were gone.”

  Foreboding chilled his extremities. “What now?”

  “It’s—”

  “What is it?” Josephine asked, Amanda’s anxiety infecting her. “Was there another attack?”

  “No. Remember the drones you said the Red Goats were using?”

  “How could I forget?” Dread seethed in Nathan’s stomach, burning along his esophagus.

  “The girls say a small drone dropped an envelope on the doorstep as they were going inside. I’m just worried that if it can drop this—”

  “I know.” His mind played images of the drone that had dropped a shaped charge on a government SUV and sent destruction erupting through the cab. “I would suggest we start the radio frequency interference generators, but that inhibits our communication by the walkies. I think if they intended to hurt us, they would have done so.”

  “Small consolation,” she sighed.

  “Small is better than none.”

  What could this mean? Did Ken come to continue his “game”? Perhaps the Red Devil Goats’ employer—likely the same people who installed the box beside the Musters’ house—wanted to taunt him.

  “This is it.” She handed him a plastic sandwich bag. It contained a folded brochure with a chunk of granite for a weight. Did he dare open it? No white powder inside. Still, he left it sealed as he pushed the pamphlet open. The words Doorway Pharmaceuticals and its open-door logo stared back. The blood in his heart turned to ice even as his stomach burned.