City Of The Damned: Expanded Edition
Page 39
Acheson and Ellenshaw exchanged glances, and Acheson shrugged and nodded. “What’s on your mind, Director?”
“Mark, do you feel you are fit to retain command of this team?” Fiedler asked.
Acheson hesitated for a moment, caught off guard. Before he could pull himself together and answer, Ellenshaw did it for him.
“He is,” Ellenshaw said.
Fiedler pushed his round wire-rimmed glasses up on his narrow nose. “Thank you for your opinion, Robert, but I was asking Mr. Acheson.”
“I can still lead,” Acheson said at last.
“There’s no shame in stepping down if you need to,” Fiedler told him. “You’ve been through a lot in the past few weeks, things that could sack any man.”
“No need for that. I’m as committed as ever.”
“Very well. Robert? Do you envision a place for you on this team, going forward?”
“He doesn’t,” Acheson said, and both Fiedler and Ellenshaw smiled.
Ellenshaw jerked a thumb at Acheson. “The man knows what he’s talking about. I’m going back to Santa Barbara. I’ve… exorcised my demons.”
Fiedler nodded. He looked back at Acheson for a long moment. Acheson looked back at the smaller man, uncomfortable with the open inspection. He fidgeted after a while, and cleared his throat.
“Will you be staying with Miss Hara this time?” Fiedler asked finally.
Acheson blinked. “Uh…”
“I know all about it, Mark. I think all of us do,” Fiedler said, casting a glance at Ellenshaw. “Let’s face it, your dick got you in a lot of trouble. Everything came together as well as it could have, but let’s not get into this kind of situation again.”
“Are you advising me to put my dick elsewhere, sir?”
“Just use the big head more often, if you would.”
Acheson nodded.
“I attended Jerry Licht’s funeral yesterday, and Claudia Nero’s service is tomorrow,” Fiedler said. “I’m unable to attend. I’ve sent flowers, and made the necessary arrangements with her family. I want to offer both of you my condolences as well. What happened over the past few weeks has taken a terrible toll, and it’s a testament to your fortitude that you’re still able to face the coming days. I admire both of you, and I want you know that.”
“Thank you, Erskine,” Ellenshaw said.
Acheson nodded. “I appreciate the sentiment, sir.”
Fiedler looked at Acheson. “I’ve arranged a plane to take you to Detroit tomorrow, Mark.”
Acheson looked at the top of the conference table for a long, silent moment, as if debating how best to continue. “I never knew Sharon’s parents. I’m pretty sure they won’t want to see me. They lost their entire family.”
“Yes… they’ve paid an unusually high toll. I’m sorry you’ll have to put a face on that. “
Acheson shook his head sadly. “It’s my duty,” he said.
Fiedler nodded. There was nothing left to say about that.
***
After Claudia’s funeral, Chiho approached Acheson as he walked to his car. They had seen each other in an official capacity since the entire Osric affair had ended, and Acheson sensed she was as uncertain about what to do going forward as he was. He didn’t try to talk to her about it, and he didn’t force the issue. Eventually, they would find a way to manage their guilt in their separate ways.
“Are you in any pain?” she asked, looking at the cast on his arm.
“No, not really,” he said.
She nodded. “Thank you for coming.” Her demeanor was as placid as ever, but there was a lot of hurt lurking beneath the surface. She wore dark sunglasses and a conservative brown suit. The hemline of the skirt ended just below her knee, conspiring to give her a matronly appearance.
“She was a member of my team, Chiho.”
“Yes. I think I should support you the same way. I’ll come to Detroit with you.”
Acheson shook his head. “Thank you, but there’s no need.”
She removed her sunglasses and looked at him for a long moment.
“I’m not sure if you should go alone,” she said. “I’m worried for you. Worried for you here.” She put her hand on his chest, over his heart.
“I know.” Acheson smiled wanly and put his hand over hers. “But here has been through a lot. I’ll make it.”
Chiho removed her hand from beneath his slowly. She nodded and slipped her sunglasses back on. “If you change your mind, let me know. I don’t want you suffering any more than you have to. What happened to Sharon is also my fault, as well.”
“It’s not your fault—”
“So you mean to say it’s yours alone?” Chiho looked at him.
Acheson put his good hand in his pocket and sighed. He raised his face toward the sun. It felt good on his skin.
“It is. I accept the blame.”
Chiho continued to look at him. Nacho walked past with Cecil, who was using a cane as his back had been injured in the final confrontation with Osric. They exchanged nods with Acheson. Chiho turned and waved at them, then noticed an older man and woman as they slowly walked toward a waiting black limousine. She turned back to Acheson, her lips compressed into a tight line.
“Claudia’s parents,” she said.
“I know. Go on. Do what you need to do.”
“When you come back, I want you to know I’m ready to move forward,” she said. “We should at least talk about these things. Sometimes, we have the opportunity to meet at the starting line again, if you understand my meaning.”
“I do.”
She smiled at him slightly. “You always did. It’s why I love you, you know.”
And with that, she turned and hurried to the waiting black limousine. Acheson watched her go, and for a moment the heavy weight of his next duty seemed just a little lighter.
That evening, he boarded another government-owned jet, this one bound for Detroit. One last mission to complete.
This time, even though it was far too late to really matter, he would be there for Sharon.
EPILOG
As he stalked through the foggy night near Golden Gate Park, Rodrigo recalled his time in Los Angeles. He had almost been incinerated by the bomb the humans had detonated. Had the shockwave been less powerful, he might not have been ejected from the mansion, where the flames would have ended him as certainly as a stake through the heart. Instead, the power of the blast had deposited him into the swimming pool, which had extinguished the flames and given him a place to rest while his body repaired itself. As it happened, he had just regained consciousness when the entire hillside broke away. The swimming pool disintegrated, and Rodrigo was buried beneath a dozen feet of mud and sodden earth. Even as he sensed Osric’s flame had been extinguished, he spent the next several hours entombed. The storm Osric had summoned took two days to blow out, and by that time, Rodrigo had already clawed his way to freedom. He traveled by night on foot, feeding on livestock when he could, fasting when required. He did not taste the blood of humans again, not until his second night in San Francisco. There, he fed on one of the homeless, then beheaded the body and tossed both into the Pacific Ocean. Neither was found.
On his third day, he set about searching for a servant. It took some time to ferret out the proper individual, but when he did, he found his servant in the form of Esperanza Diaz, a former stripper who had been forced into slavery by her pimp. Rodrigo looked into her eyes one night and set her free. With her wealth of knowledge regarding San Francisco’s underbelly, he could navigate these new, uncharted waters with some degree of safety.
For Rodrigo Antonio Sabastano, late of the clan of Osric, San Francisco was a godsend. It wasn’t as brutally hot as Los Angeles, nor as big, nor as unmanageable. San Francisco was a city at the tip of a peninsula with well-defined borders. There was another vampire clan in the area, but they were small and weak. He would stalk their leader during the coming nights, execute him, face down any challengers, and start over. He would lead with wisdom and com
passion, and above all, respect for his human opponents. He had learned firsthand what could happen by underestimating them. Even cattle had very sharp horns, and those horns could be lethal.
San Francisco was, at the moment, his oyster.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
City of the Damned was a long time in coming. I started this book in the late 1990s, stopped, started, and finally finished it almost a decade later. After many, many edits and putting it through the publishing gauntlet where it lost almost 30,000 words, I’ve elected to restore it in all its original glory. You now have it in your hands, and I hope you liked it.
Shouts out to some folks who helped me along the way:
Rick Sylander for being a good sounding board over the years.
Joe LeBert for his “every man” review of the book prior to its digital and print publication.
Karl Monger for the editorial work.
Derek Paterson and Fred Anderson for the exhaustive reads and excellent advice about what worked and what didn’t.
Jeroen ten Berge for the wonderful cover art. If you ever need a cover or imagery for any initiative you might have, contact Jeroen at http://jeroentenberge.com/ and he’ll square you away.
And…the biggest thanks of all to you, the reader.
Stephen Knight is the author of the zombie apocalypse novel The Gathering Dead and its novella follow-up, Left With The Dead, as well as the erotic thriller White Tiger with co-author Derek Paterson. Knight lives in the New York City area.
City of the Damned (Abridged Version)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004Q3RIHK
Hackett’s War
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004W48LZQ
The Gathering Dead
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004SYAY2S
Left With The Dead (A “Gathering Dead” Novella)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0055OGSOI
Ghosts
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004PLNQ6U
Family Ties
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004P5NS2S
White Tiger (with Derek Paterson)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005ET1E98
Stephen Knight on the web:
http://knightslanding.wordpress.com/
Did you like this story? Did you hate it? Compliments and/or complaints should go to:
sknightwrites@gmail.com
Cover Art © 2011 by Jeroen ten Berge
http://jeroentenberge.com/