Dream Stalkers

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Dream Stalkers Page 18

by Tim Waggoner


  “I really hope that transport gets here soon,” Russell said.

  We waited for several more minutes, and luckily no dark bombs fell from the sky. Maybe the Darkuns couldn’t fly or maybe they couldn’t stand looking downward at the light, and because of this they couldn’t aim. Or maybe they simply weren’t smart enough to realize they could attempt to destroy the lamps from the air. Whatever the reasons, the lamps continued to blaze with light, undisturbed, much to our relief. Except Jinx’s. I’m sure he would’ve loved to have an excuse to pound Darkuns into paste.

  “There!”

  Mordacity pointed toward the darkness. At first I didn’t see anything, but then I noticed a glimmer of light coming our way. It grew larger as it approached, and soon we could hear an engine’s roar, accompanied by the sound of energy weapons discharging.

  The transport vehicle surged out of the blackness with a pair of Darkuns clinging to its surface. The creatures’ forms were basically humanoid, with large clawed hands and feet, but one had a thrashing tail and the other had an extra arm. As soon as they were in the dome of light, they shrieked in frustration as much as pain, released their hold on the vehicle, and fell to the ground. They rolled several feet, their ebon hides beginning to smoke. When they came to a stop they sprang to their feet and dashed back toward the soothing embrace of darkness.

  The prison transport was a sport utility vehicle with a highly reflective metal surface and powerful lights mounted along all sides, the top, and the bottom. The lights were covered by strong metal screens to guard against their being broken. Four metal seats were bolted on top of the transport, each facing a different direction. Guards were strapped into the seats with criss-crossing thick leather straps. They wore reflective white body armor and white visored helmets with small lamps mounted on top. Each carried a flash rifle, along with several lux grenades on their belts.

  As the two Darkuns tried to escape, the guard facing rearward aimed her flash rifle and loosed several bursts of coherent light. The beams missed the three-armed Darkun, but the tailed one was struck directly between the shoulder blades. It screamed, pitched face-first onto the ground, and lay still. Three-Arm didn’t look back at its fallen comrade. It kept running like hell until it plunged into the safety of darkness. Smoke rose from the downed Darkun’s body as the light continued to eat away at it. It would be completely disintegrated within the space of a few minutes.

  The transport slowed as it drew near the platform, and parked a dozen yards away. The rooftop guard facing the front of the vehicle flipped open his visor to reveal a normal-sized head with facial features so small they seemed in danger of being swallowed by the surrounding flesh.

  “Let’s go,” he called out, in a chipmunk squeak of a voice. We filed down the small set of stairs on the side of the platform and walked toward the transport. The other three Incubi preceded us, and another guard exited the vehicle and asked to see their IDs. This guard didn’t raise his visor, but I could tell from the inhuman proportions of his body – super-broad shoulders and an almost nonexistent waist – that he was an Incubus. People don’t generally carry identification in Nod as Incubi aren’t much for rules and regulations. But it can be obtained in the Rookery for those who need it, and no one gets into Deadlock without ID. The Batwoman removed her ID from a pocket and handed it to the guard. He passed the card over his wisper, it beeped, and he handed it back to her, satisfied. He repeated this same procedure for the other two, although, since neither of them wore clothing, the process was more disturbing to watch. The organ mass pulled its ID from between a kidney and liver, and the giant earwig coughed up its card. The guard scanned both IDs without reaction. I guess by this point in his career he’d pretty much seen it all.

  When it was our turn, Jinx and I took out our Shadow Watch badges. I intended to vouch for Mordacity, Russell, and Bloodshedder, but, before I could say anything, the guard looked at us – more specifically at Jinx – and took a step back.

  “Oh, hell no!” he said.

  Jinx flashed the man an unsettling grin. “Have we met?”

  The micro-faced guard on the roof said, “The Warden posts pictures in the guard barracks of all the visitors we’re supposed to keep a special eye out for.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “Not only is Jinx on the Warden’s list, his name’s at the top.”

  Mordacity turned to Jinx. “What did you do?”

  Jinx shrugged. “I have no idea. You know me – I’m a model of decorum and restraint.”

  The guard on the ground answered Mordacity’s question. “The last time he was here, we lost three prisoners.”

  “They escaped?” Mordacity asked, shocked.

  “Not exactly,” the guard said, glaring at Jinx.

  Jinx continued putting on an innocent act – smiling politely, face devoid of guile – but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

  “A few months ago we were transporting a prisoner,” I explained. “I guess word had gotten out that Jinx is able to store numerous goodies in his jacket, and some of the inmates thought if they stole it, they’d have access to enough weapons to mount an escape.”

  Mordacity looked at Jinx. “I imagine that didn’t go well for them.”

  Jinx’s innocent expression gave way to arched eyebrows and a cruel smile.

  “I think I still have their hands on me somewhere. Would you like to see them?” He reached into his jacket pocket, his arm disappearing up to the elbow as he began to root around.

  “No, thanks,” Mordacity said. “I’ve seen more than enough body parts in my career.” He turned toward the organ-conglomerate creature and said, “No offense.”

  The Incubus replied with a moist gurgling sound that might’ve been None taken, but which could’ve just as easily been Screw you, Bone-Boy.

  It took some convincing for the guards to allow Jinx to board the transport. In the end, I think they decided it would be less trouble to take him to Deadlock and let the Warden figure out what to do with him. Jinx wanted to ride on top of the transport, but I put my foot down on that. I’d had a hard enough time getting the guards to agree to take him as it was. We all climbed aboard the vehicle. There was a guard behind the wheel and the narrow-waisted Incubus rode shotgun, leaving the rest of us to squeeze in as best we could. It was a tight fit, but we managed. Given that there were six guards in total, not to mention the five of us, I figured that if any or all of our fellow travelers were assassins, they wouldn’t try anything right now. I still intended to keep a close watch on them, though.

  Once we were all aboard and the doors were locked, the driver put the engine in gear and tromped on the gas. Jinx loves this part of the ride. Me, not so much. The transport left the relative safety of the platform’s light and plunged into darkness. The vehicle’s headlights cut twin swaths through the black, and the guards on the roof began firing their flash rifles. I had the impression that they did so more as a deterrent than because they actually saw any targets. But before long, pieces detached from the surrounding darkness and flung themselves at the transport. It was difficult to see them as much more than barely glimpsed movement, given that they were black against a black background. But when they passed in front of the headlights or when they were revealed by a burst of illumination from a flash rifle, we caught a glimpse of the Darkuns – clawed, fanged, and lean-limbed. They moved with such speed and ferocity that, as well-armed as the guards were, they had a hard time keeping the creatures at bay. I found myself wishing I had allowed Jinx to ride on top. The guards could’ve used his help.

  I’m not sure how long the ride took. The guards generally try to take the most direct route to and from the station, but the Darkuns don’t always make that possible. If enough of them attack at once, the driver is forced to detour around them. The trip could’ve been as short as fifteen minutes or as long as an hour. But eventually we began to approach a faint glow that grew brighter as we drew nearer. One by one, the Darkuns broke off their attack until the transport was able to m
ove forward unimpeded. Soon Deadlock came into view. When you see the prison for the first time, it’s difficult to make out any details because of how bright the light is. Deadlock is a domed structure covered with highly polished reflective steel. High lamp poles ring the dome, with lights mounted to face all directions. As a result, a first-time visitor’s impression of Deadlock is a blazing ball of white light, a warm, welcoming beacon of hope shining in a sea of darkness. But a closer look reveals that the prison’s light is cold, harsh, and unforgiving, just like the place itself.

  The driver pulled the transport up to the main gate and honked the horn three times. The guard in the front passenger seat held his wisper up to his visored face and said, “This is prison transport 306, returning from a pick-up run. Today’s password is okra.”

  I looked at Jinx. “Not the sort of password one’s likely to guess.”

  “It does have that advantage,” Jinx said. “But now I’m hungry.”

  Twin metal doors slid apart, and the transport moved forward.

  As terrifying as the Darkuns are, right then I was far more afraid of seeing Nathaniel. What if he was disappointed in the officer I’d become? Worse, what if his condition had deteriorated since I’d last been here? I’d find my answers inside, but, whatever they might be, I didn’t think I was going to like them.

  * * * * *

  Inside the dome, Deadlock looks pretty much like a typical Earth prison – a collection of gray, institutional-type buildings, an exercise yard with a high, sturdy fence, and guard towers erected at regular intervals. As soon as we were inside, the driver turned off the transport’s lights. The dome’s entire ceiling glows with illumination as bright as day on Earth, so the vehicle’s lights were no longer necessary. Battery power was a precious commodity here, one to be preserved at all costs. Incubi don’t assume their Day Aspects in this light, though. It’s not daylight or nighttime that causes an Incubus to change on Earth. It’s the amount of people connecting to the Maelstrom while they dream, bringing Earth’s dimension into closer alignment with Nod. Since Deadlock was in Nod, surrounded by the ever-turbulent energies of the Maelstrom, Incubi remained in their Night Aspects here, just as they did everywhere else in Nod.

  The driver took us around to a building with an unmarked metal door that served as the visitors’ entrance and parked.

  “Everyone out of the pool,” the narrow-waisted guard said.

  I was curious what he looked like under his helmet, but he didn’t raise his visor, and neither did the driver. Deadlock’s guards tend to wear their helmets with the visors down most of the time when they’re on duty. I don’t know why. Maybe to set them even further apart from the inmates.

  We got out of the transport, as did our three fellow visitors. The narrow-waisted guard led us to the door while the guards on the roof began to undo their restraints. I saw that the rear-facing seat was empty, the restraints shredded and dangling. The surviving guards made a point of not looking at the empty seat. It takes a special breed to be a guard in Deadlock. You have to be damn tough – and maybe more than a little crazy.

  There was a key-card lock on the wall next to the door, and the guard unzipped his uniform just enough to reach in and pull out a multicolored card from an inner pocket. The card was laminated in a coating of solidified M-energy, and, when he swiped it through the reader, there was a soft crackle of energy discharge followed by a beep. An instant later a series of heavy locks released in sequence, and, when they were finished, the guard opened the door and gestured for us to enter. We walked into an empty room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all gray stone, and it was lit by humming fluorescent lights. The room might’ve been empty of furniture, but not of people. There were eight guards – one for each visitor – all in full white uniforms with visors down. They wore trancers in side holsters and shock batons tucked into their belts. They stood in a row, straight and still, as if at military attention. In front of them stood an Incubus wearing a dark blue suit, white shirt, red tie, and black shoes. The shirt and suit jacket were specially tailored to accommodate his three heads. They were canine – pit bulls, to be exact. The head on the left was white-furred, and it continually sniffed the air, drawing in the scents around it. The right head was tan, and it growled softly, teeth bared ever-so-slightly, its gaze sweeping back and forth as it surveyed its surroundings. The middle head – the one that wore the tie around its neck – was gray and its expression was calm, even contemplative. It’s also the only one of the three that, as far as I know, is capable of human speech.

  All three pairs of Warden Bruzer’s eyes narrowed as they focused on Jinx and me, and the tan head’s growling grew even louder.

  “Officer Hawthorne, Officer Jinx.” The Warden’s voice was low and rough, not surprisingly, and had an English accent. Day Jinx once told me the pit bull’s ancestors came from England, so maybe that’s the reason for the accent. Then again, Incubi are how Ideators dream them, so perhaps the Warden’s Ideator had been a Brit. Then again, there might not be any reason for his accent at all. Dreams are funny that way.

  Bruzer went on. “I wasn’t aware that you two would be paying us a visit today. I received no advance notice from the Rookery.”

  All three heads scowled at us.

  Bruzer wasn’t merely a stickler for rules and regulations. He was a merciless, ball-breaking hardass about them. But, before I could think up a suitable lie about why he hadn’t been contacted, Mordacity stepped forward.

  “It’s good to see you again, sir.”

  He offered a skeletal-armored hand for the Warden to shake. Bruzer’s middle face smiled, and, if he’d possessed a tail, I’m sure he would’ve wagged it.

  “Mordacity! This is a surprise!” He quickly glanced at Jinx and me. “A pleasant one.”

  His hands were human and unfurred, but they were huge, with long, thick sausage-link fingers. He gripped Mordacity’s hand and gave it a couple energetic pumps. It might’ve been my imagination, but I swear I heard bones crack. Bruzer released Mordacity’s hand, and I wouldn’t have been surprised to see his fingers crumble to dust. But they remained intact.

  “It’s been quite some time since we’ve seen you around here,” Bruzer said. He looked at Jinx and me again. “I thought you’d retired from active duty. Did Sanderson ask you to come back to babysit these two?”

  Jinx, smiling sweetly, pulled an object from his pocket and tossed it at the Warden. The guards drew their trancers, but, before they could fire, Bruzer snatched the object out of the air and held it up to his middle face to examine. It was a blue rubber dog bone, and painted on it in white letters were the words Fuck You.

  “Charming as always, Jinx.” Bruzer tossed the toy to the floor, and, while his other two heads paid it no more mind, his tan head looked at it longingly.

  Mordacity went on as if nothing had happened.

  “We’re not here in an official capacity. We’ve come to see Nathaniel.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. It’s been quite some time since anyone visited Officer Sawyer.”

  Bruzer’s tone remained neutral, but his tan head glared at us and growled, showing how he felt about the situation. Bruzer then turned his attention to the other three Incubi.

  “Are they with you?” He addressed this question to Mordacity. In Bruzer’s mind, Mordacity would always be a senior officer compared to Jinx and me, even if he was no longer an official member of the Watch.

  Mordacity shook his head.

  Bruzer motioned and three of the guards moved forward. Each chose an Incubus, gently but firmly took hold of his or her arm – or, in the case of the conglomerate creature, an organ – and led them out of the room. I knew the drill. They would be taken to Visitor Reception where they’d be searched, questioned, and then asked to wait while the prisoners they’d come to see were fetched. Things were going to be a little different for us, though. Nathaniel wasn’t allowed out of his cell. We’d have to go see him.

  Bruzer used his wisper to call ahe
ad and inform the medical staff that we’d be visiting. When he was finished, he turned to the remaining guards. “You’re dismissed,” he said, and they turned without a word and left the room.

  “Let’s go,” Bruzer said to us, and he headed for the door.

  “That’s it?” Russell said, as we followed after the Warden. “I thought Deadlock would have tougher security than this.”

  I just smiled.

  The room opened onto a long corridor, and Bruzer led us to a smaller room next door. There was a single table in it, along with several metal folding chairs. Mordacity, Jinx, and I started removing our weapons. Russell gave me a look, but Bruzer spoke before he could ask any questions.

  “No one enters Deadlock armed, not even Shadow Watch officers.”

  We laid our weapons on the table. Mordacity’s sword, my trancer and M-blade, and Jinx’s hammer. Jinx didn’t stop there. After our last visit, we’d been told that he’d have to divest himself of all weapons – literally. He removed his tattered jacket and placed it on the table, then he started undoing his tie. He continued undressing until he was naked except for a pair of pink boxer shorts with My Little Pony characters on them. He’d even taken off his shoes, revealing his enormous chalk-white feet.

  Russell surrendered his rapier, as well as a trancer he carried as a back-up weapon. He then removed Bloodshedder’s spiked collar and put it on the table with the rest of our gear.

  “One more thing,” Bruzer said. He reached into his outer jacket pocket and brought out three silvery lengths of metal that resembled plain necklaces.

  Bloodshedder eyed the negator collars and growled.

  “Are they really necessary?” Russell asked.

  “The fact that I’m in here alone with you testifies to the level of trust I have in you,” Bruzer said. “But rules are rules. Only those Incubi on staff are allowed to go about uncollared inside Deadlock.”

 

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