Dead To Me sc-1

by Anton Strout

  She checked the same drawer she had just taken the papers from again. “It should be here!”

  “Looking for this?” said a familiar European voice from behind us.

  I spun around. Faisal Bane was standing in the middle of the room, smugly holding up the missing manifest-the one that listed the wooden fish. Behind him, a section of the wall that had been there a moment ago had now slid back to reveal a hidden alcove. Tricky! “Or perhaps you’re looking for your Hello Kitty coffee mug?”

  He produced said object in his other hand, examined it slowly, then threw it as hard as he could toward the opposite wall. It smashed against a picture of the Manhattan skyline and shattered, pieces of mug and picture frame showering the carpet. Jane gasped.

  “No! Kitty!”

  I grabbed the box of flowers, and pulled the bat free from it, sending flowers flying in every direction. Another figure stepped from the darkness behind Faisal and into the light. My stomach sank as I recognized the man’s face. I had seen it every day back at the Department of Extraordinary Affairs. It was Thaddeus Wesker. The Inspectre had confided that Wesker was an undercover agent here, but right now he looked every bit on the side of evil.

  “Un-uh,” the Director of Greater amp; Lesser Arcana said. He flicked his arm in my direction and I felt the bat pull free from my hands. It twirled end over end toward Wesker and he plucked it from the air.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Hello to you, too, Simon,” Wesker said. “I am the head of Greater and LesserArcana, after all, or did you forget?” He turned to Faisal with a grin on his face. “I told you if we waited they’d eventually come sniffing around for it.”

  Faisal turned his head. “Is this the one you mentioned?”

  “Yes,” Wesker sneered. “He’s one of their precious little Other Division.”

  “So young!” Faisal said as he looked me over. “Apparently, they’re desperate to replenish their fading numbers, eh?”

  It was bad enough that Bane was here, but now there was Wesker to contend with, too. Maybe this had been a setup. Maybe Jane was in on it, too, playing me all this time while secretly helping the Sectarians…

  “Leave him alone,” Jane said and surprised me by moving between me and the two of them.

  Bane waved her away with a dismissive gesture. “Save your theatrics, Jane, and put aside any misguided thoughts of heroics, would you?”

  Despite the growing fear in my chest, my male ego went “Doh!”I should have been the one to step forward. Stupid gestures weremy bailiwick, not hers.

  “Bully,” I heard her mutter. Fast as a shot, Faisal closed the distance to her and drove his fist into her gut. Jane crumpled to the floor without a sound. There went the idea that she was secretly on their side.

  “I don’t let my subordinates talk to me like that,” he said as he stared down at her, “and I certainly won’t let a traitorous whore like you either.”

  Wesker moved to stand by Faisal’s side, but his attention was all on me. I glared at him and said, “I see only one traitor here and that’s Wesker.”

  Faisal continued to ignore me, but Wesker took a step in my direction, my bat held over his shoulder loosely in one hand. “Well, Mr. Bane, what do you recommend I do with him?”

  Faisal grinned as he turned, his eyes menacing me. “Well, hedid bring his own bat. Cave his skull in with it.”

  30

  An overactive imagination can be both a blessing and a curse. For instance, when I think of supermodels, I consider what my mind can conjure up a great benefit-wildly imagined slow-motion pillow fights, for instance. But conversely, when I had just been told that my skull was going to be caved in, I would have rathered that my mind couldn’t conceive-down to the last detail-what that might look like. Cracked shards of bone digging into my brain, my gray matter poking through, clumps of bloody hair…but then again, it was enough to snap me out of my useless stupor and into action.

  Jane was down-but hopefully not out-for the count, so it was up to me. With Wesker in possession of my bat, I reached behind me toward the desk and grabbed whatever my hand fell upon. A green-domed banker’s lamp. Just great.

  I didn’t figure my training in Unorthodox Fighting Techniques would be coming into play so soon, and I was untested in a real-life dangerous situation, but I had little choice. Giving a tug, I tore the cord free from wherever it was plugged into and started swinging the lamp in wild circles over my head. Wesker backed closer to Faisal and there was a genuine look of concern on his face that hadn’t been there a second ago. I pressed what I thought was my advantage and let the lamp fly.

  When people replay a moment in their head, there is a clarity that the actual moment itself never seemed to have. That’s how it was with me anyway. In the playback in my head, I now understand what happened as I let loose the lamps of war, although the moment itself passed in a heartbeat.

  Evidently, my training had paid off more than I thought. I had worried about timing the release of the cord so that the lamp would head in the right direction, but my aim proved perfect. The lamp snaked out from my hands, the cord feeding through my fist as it flew and the glass dome exploded against theback of Wesker’s head. I had been aiming for Wesker’s face, but what I hadn’t counted on was that he would turn away from me to clock Faisal with my own bat. Wesker wobbled, but didn’t drop as he whacked the leader of the Sectarians across the shoulders. Faisal dropped faster than a one-hit wonder from the pop music charts, but Wesker remained standing.

  “Son of a bitch!” Wesker shouted. He cautiously felt the back of his head and examined his fingers for blood as he stumbled around the room. “What is wrong with you?!?”

  Surprisingly, he threw my bat back to me, and I caught it midair.

  “Can’t you see that I’m trying to help here?” he hissed as he crossed to me and got in my face. “Or didn’t they teach you that anyone attacking your enemy is anally?”

  I looked at Faisal spread out on the floor. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving. I picked up the manifest from where it lay next to him.

  “You knocked him out cold!” I said.

  Wesker glowered at me. He moved to Faisal, squatted down, and examined him. “Could you stop stating the obvious and do something useful? It’s only a matter of time until he comes around. And we’ll need to be out of here when he does. Check your woman there, would you? I need to secure our prisoner.”

  I had forgotten Jane in the heat of the moment, but I did as Wesker instructed and checked on her. She was unresponsive as I scooped her up, and I stopped for a second as something dawned on me. I turned back to Wesker.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Prisoner?We’re taking Faisal with us?”

  Wesker sighed. “You don’t miss a word, do you? Yes. Look, I honestly don’t knowwhat we should do with him, but I know I don’t want to just leave him here. We’re not sure if he saw me hitting him with the bat from behind or not, so we take him in until we find out what he recalls. We’ve got nothing we can technically detain him for, but at least if we take him in to the D.E.A. like we are arresting him, maybe we can find out if my cover’s been blown. Now wake her up.”

  “Did you see what he did?” I shouted. “He punched her!”

  Wesker jumped up from where he knelt and crossed to us. “You act as if that matters, Simon.”

  “Are you telling me that hitting a woman doesn’t matter?”

  He squatted down next to Jane and produced a tube from his own pocket. He removed the stopper and waved it under Jane’s nose. She began to groan and sputter as she turned her head away from it.

  Wesker gave me a look of contempt as he stood. “I’m telling you to see the bigger picture here, newbie. Ideas like ‘a man shouldn’t hit a woman’ don’t ultimately matter in the fight between good and evil. You hold on to these archaic notions and these cultists will kill you while you’re still processing which chivalrous deed to act on first. I’m as sorry she got punched as I would be foranyone be
ing punched, equal rights amendment aside, but you want to know what I’m most sorry about? That this woman here is actually relying on you to save her.”

  I looked at him, and all I wanted was to smash his face in. “Why are you helping me if you hate me so much?”

  “It’s not about you, newbie. Again,think of the big picture! You think I’m going to let my personal dislike of a snot-nosed upstart like you distract me from my purpose here? Think again.”

  I pushed him away from Jane as her eyes fluttered open and I helped her to her feet. “You okay there, Janey?”

  “Owie,” Jane said. She was trying to play off the pain. She winced as I stood her upright. “You sure we’re not dead yet? It sure feels like I’m dead.”

  “I’m afraid that’s just wishful thinking on your part,” I said.

  She smiled, but it faded as she caught sight of Faisal Bane lying on the floor. “My God, did you do that?”

  Before I could answer, Wesker snorted. “Him? Please! He couldn’t fight his way out of a fifth grade choir practice!”

  “Who’s he?” Jane asked, eyeing Wesker suspiciously.

  “Wait,” I said. “You both worked for the Sectarians and you don’t know each other?” Of course, their paths had crossed the night Wesker cut Jane’s line-but with a rare show of discretion, I decided not to bring that up right now. We had some pressing things to accomplish right now.

  “It’s a big organization,” Jane said. “There’s a lot of skulking that goes on. There was even an official Lunch and Learn: Skulking 101, but no, I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting him.”

  “Oh, believe me,” Wesker said snidely. “The displeasure is all mine.”

  “Well, you’re awfully unpleasant,” Jane said with a look.

  “Yes,” he said. “I know. It’s part of my mystique. Look, I’d love to stand around and chat all night with you and Prince Harming here, but I do believe we have more pressing matters to attend to.”

  “Such as getting out of here alive?” Jane asked. She must have been feeling better because she seemed to be back to her feisty self. Wesker ran to the door, peered out, and then shut it. He turned to Jane.

  “Faisal’s been talking about you,” Wesker said. “Do you know that the Sectarians set that corporate headhunter-Jason Charles-after you? We don’t want to make it easy for him to find you now, do we? I don’t think it helps that we’re hanging around in your old office. We need to get out of here.”

  My guilt rose up at the mention of Jason Charles, and thoughts of vengeance over Tamara filled my head.

  “I already know he’s looking for me. I’ve been evading him for days,” Jane said proudly. Score one for Team Petty Victory!

  It didn’t last long, though. Wesker snapped out of whatever state he was in and looked the two of us up and down. “Why the hell are you wearing matching outfits?”

  “It’s how we got in,” I explained. “Delivery people.”

  “Classic,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

  “Hey! It worked, didn’t it?” I fired back.

  “Ahem…guys?” Jane said. She ran back to her desk and began to pack the last of her things. “I really hate to get in between the two of you verbally assaulting each other. It’s very macho and all-thanks for the effort-but we really need to come up with a plan and quick. I don’t see how we’re going to get Faisal out of here.”

  Jane was right. We were falling apart here. Connor would have been disappointed. Lock picking our way into Irene’s apartment was one thing, but I knew he wouldn’t have approved of us breaking into the Sectarians’ office. And the petty way I was losing focus of our objectives by letting my emotions over Tamara and my dislike of Wesker rule the situation went against everything Connor had trained me for.

  “Look,” I said. “I’m sorry. For everything. Thank you for saving us.”

  “Finally!” he said with exasperation. “A little gratitude!”

  “You know,” I said, “you’re really not making this easy.”

  He shrugged and said, “Why don’t I make things real easy for all of us then? I think I know how we’re going to get our large European friend out of here without drawing too much attention on ourselves.”

  Thaddeus Wesker smiled with the perverse pleasure of one who relished the role of leadership. “You two dress-up playmates should be tickled pink about it. I’m promoting you.”

  I had a sneaking suspicion that I wouldn’t like what he was about to suggest.

  “Welcome to the world of professional carpet cleaning,” Wesker said.

  31

  The plan was this: Jane and I would roll the unconscious Faisal Bane into a carpet, essentially making a human burrito, and sneak him out of the building. The foolishness of the plan was further complicated by the fact that as we rolled Faisal Bane into an oriental carpet, it looked exactly like a carpet with a body rolled into it.

  My gut reaction to Wesker’s plan was alarm bells going off in my head, screaming STUPID STUPID STUPID. But since I had nothing better to offer in the way of cohesive escape, we were stuck with it.

  Wesker and I hefted one end of the Faisal carpet burrito onto my shoulder.

  “Won’t the zombies try to stop us?” I asked. “I mean we’ve essentially made a giant joint with their master inside of it. Won’t that set their zombie senses tingling?”

  It was Jane who put my fears to rest as Wesker moved to help Jane lift her end of the carpet roll.

  “Zombie sense?” Jane said, shaking her head at me. “What are they teaching you at the D.E.A.? There’s no such thing, Simon.”

  “You sure?” I asked.

  Jane nodded. “I don’t think they’ll even notice us leaving. I’ve worked with that lot of undead word processors, and without their zombified brains being directly controlled on a project, they have the functionality of a small child. A regular person might look at us and be able to figure out we’ve got a body in here, but a zombie, like a child, couldn’t figure it out. It’s like if you cover something up with a cloth, a baby will forget it’s there. Object permanence, it’s called.”

  I tested the weight at my end of the bundle and it was much heavier than I thought.

  “It’s the same for the zombies,” Jane continued. “Unless they’re ordered directly by their master or they see him in jeopardy specifically, they’re not likely to attack.”

  “Good enough for me,” I said. “That sounded very professorial of you.”

  Wesker cleared his throat pointedly. “If you two don’t mind…”

  For once, I was glad to hear him chime in because our carpety coffin was not getting any lighter. Wesker opened the door for us and waved us out.

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” I asked.

  “I’ll meet you outside,” he said. “I’m going to go a separate way so as to not draw attention to our secret partnership. I’m worried that my cover might be blown, remember?”

  “I doubt it,” said. “The way you clocked him, he probably won’t even remember whohe is.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Wesker said, shutting the door behind him. “These Sectarians are a hardy sort. Still, there might have been enough confusion in the fight.”

  Without another word, Wesker headed off in the opposite direction as Jane and I headed for the lobby.

  Surprisingly, our trip went smoothly. Jane’s arm-still tender after healing from the fall into my alley-began to act up, but she was a trooper and didn’t bring it up until we hit street level along Thirty-Third. Wesker pulled up in a van-God knows where he’d purloined it from-and we loaded Bane clumsily into it, thankful to have his weight off our shoulders. Wesker gave the two of us a few sneers in the rearview mirror but otherwise fell silent for the rest of the ride down, which was fine by me.

  Because of Wesker’s deep-cover operation, he decided to make himself scarce just in case he hadn’t blindsided Faisal as well as he thought. That meant that he wouldn’t be able to claim this capture as a victory for his precious
Greater amp; Lesser Arcana department. I knew that would kill him, and I did an inner happy dance over the thought. We were hauling in one big evil fish and I would most likely get all the credit. Maybe Jane would win some points toward convincing the D.E.A. she was much less evil than they’d thought.

  I wasn’t sure how long we’d be able to detain Faisal, but we’d see how far we could take it. It wasn’t until we unloaded the van on East Eleventh Street that I began to feel an unexpected excitement from it all. There was a buzz in the crowd as we entered, even in the rich-smelling confines of the coffee shop. Operatives from the graveyard shift perked up at our arrival, and they parted as we hefted our load from the van and headed back toward the office. As we worked our way through the storefront and down the main aisle of the theater, the D.E.A. crowd surged around us and lifted the rolled-up villain out of our hands and continued forward. I didn’t mind, though. I was riding the wave of our high, too busy accepting the congratulations, handshakes, and pats on the back from my peers to care. Most of the other agents probably didn’t even know why they were cheering or what was going on, but they figured anytime someone walked in with a body wrapped up in a carpet roll, it was most likely in the plus column for the good guys. As I continued forward through the throng, my free hand held tight to Jane’s.

  Connor stood by the entrance to the offices and I met his eyes as we approached. If he was there to reprimand me, I wanted to face it head on while I was still full of congratulatory empowerment.

  “When I told you to take some kind of action at the Odessa last night,” he started grimly, “I didn’t expect you to bring down the enemy single-handedly. You could have gotten yourself killed, kid.”

  “And me,” chimed in Jane cheerfully. “Don’t forget he could have gotten me killed as well!”

  “Word has it you’re M.I.A.,” he said to Jane with a sour look.

  Connor looked down at our intertwined hands and I faltered for a second, feeling my grip loosen.