inherit the earth

by Hunter

  “Stuart, listen carefully. It’s still possible you can survive this, perhaps in some other city. Arrangements could be made. If you value your existence, go to the prince and beg. You may be allowed to simply leave the city. Elsewhere you might even continue your work, if that’s still important to you, ” Garth said.

  With a rage he didn’t know he could possess, Eberhardt grabbed Garth and pushed backwards, catching him off balance only because he was more than willing to fall himself. The two tumbled onto the end table, splintering it. The photo flew into the air again. Eberhardt, oddly, rolled off of Garth and caught it. When he turned back, he saw Garth partly impaled on a leg of the table, squirming, unable to pull himself free.

  “Lift me quickly you fool! It’s in my back! ”

  Eberhardt dutifully nodded and stepped over. He started to pull Garth off the wooden shard. But then, at the last possible moment, he hesitated. Garth saw the hesitation and knew at once what it meant. A command from brain to body was already winding its way through his nervous system when Eberhardt pushed down with all his might. With a crack, the bone buckled and a bloodied wooden stump popped from the center of Garth’s chest.

  Eberhardt didn’t look back, he simply raced out.

  His vitae draining this way and that into the carpet, the pinned Garth looked around at the office and sneered. Paralyzed, but still quite conscious, the Keeper who’d once hoped to be seneschal, perhaps even prince, turned invisible - partly to keep himself hidden from unwanted visitors, partly because he’d never really liked being seen.

  Down on the street, O’Malley spotted Eberhardt exiting the lobby of the building he’d seen Warburton enter. Anger welled as he watched the vampire pretend at human courtesy, by smiling and nodding at the doorman. A carnivore’s nod to the cow. The creature hit the sidewalk, pivoted east, and, once out of the doorman’s sight, sped off in a frantic fashion that O’Malley seldom saw in a vampire, unless it was surrounded by flames. He was moving, to O’Malley’s grim amusement, like a bat out of hell.

  Unwilling to lose this one the way he had Garth, O’Malley sped a block east to get ahead of it, then jumped out onto the sidewalk and began jogging west, ducking this way and that through the crowd. He’d never catch him on foot and didn’t want to risk losing him to city traffic. Cars and human feet were useless in this game. Fortunately, he had a other tools.

  His eyes scanned the moving pedestrians; lovers, bums and businessmen, mostly oblivious to anyone outside their immediate sphere. He could spot the vampire with a glimpse, unless it had sensed him and ducked into one of the small shops. But no, there it was, moving quickly towards him. O’Malley moved as if to get out of its way, but then, just as it passed, the imbued detective pushed to the side, letting his hand brush the thing’s shoulder. Contact made O’Malley a bit nauseous, but didn’t even slow the thing down. Perfect.

  No thing, no person except O’Malley could see it, but a small, thin trail of smoke was leaving an echo of the monster’s steps. He could follow in the car now, which would be easier than trying to carry all of his equipment.

  “Got you, ” O’Malley whispered.

  As Eberhardt raced through streets blanketed by a thin veneer of artificial light, he was utterly oblivious to the hunter. What he did know, at last, was that the breakthrough he’d felt himself so very near had nothing whatsoever to do with Jessica, Hunters or even with the Kindred. The great truth along whose edge he’d danced, mesmerized, had been about himself. As he raced to face whatever waited and whatever it was he would do when he got there, he felt so close to revelation, he could taste it.

  • • • •

  “When we remember that we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. ”

  —Mark Twain

  Outside the window where Jessica slept, the motionless Eberhardt saw, or imagined, that everything around him was shining. The lean, steady fingers of rain, the rough soaked tar of the street, the colorless bricks and stone of the building, even the ribboned edges of the city haze that perpetually hid the stars — all had a glow that was either utterly new to the world, or despite its apparent glory, that Eberhardt had somehow miraculously failed to notice.

  Behind a Dumpster, O’Malley waited and watched. The top joint of his index finger was hooked on the trigger of a. 45 Colt Magnum, loaded with standard hollow-point rounds, which, he figured, should be more than enough stopping power for a low-level undead. If it wasn’t, or if some of its pals showed, as he hoped they would — less than an arm’s length away was a duffel bag stuffed with the even more interesting toys he’d been collecting since his days as a hunter began.

  As long as the thing seemed to be waiting, O’Malley was content to wait as well. What he really wanted, more than its mere destruction, was what he imagined Eberhardt could lead him to: a view into the power structure behind the city’s undead. That was why he’d abandoned the immediate satisfaction of avenging Padovano’s death. It was a game he’d played before as a narcotics detective, letting runners or street dealers lead him to bigger game. But here there was a more immediate danger — its hunger. And so his finger remained poised on the trigger. If it made a move towards the window, he’d be sure to get its attention. Meanwhile, he ignored the moisture his shirt and pants had sucked up from the wall and floor, and practiced remaining motionless.

  When, after what seemed hours, Eberhardt failed to even turn towards his hiding place, O’Malley dismissed the vampire as either incredibly dense or distracted by some undead peculiarity to the point of numbness. His impression changed immediately, though, when Eberhardt’s voice suddenly called to something unseen, something even O’Malley, with his heightened sense of such things, failed to notice.

  “Two Assamites for a four year old? ” Eberhardt hissed as two shadows seeped into the alley entrance. Trying his very best to sound menacing, but utterly failing, he scrambled down the fire escape to all but the ground level. He thought of climbing down further, but someone had unhinged the hook that held the sliding ladder in place, leaving it dangling a foot or so above the ground, rusted and barely in place. His weight would easily pull it off the track, and a pratfall in front of the assassins would be unwise.

  Instead, he leaned out into the wet air, holding the rail with one hand and glared.

  “Splitting the fee? Are you afraid of her? ” As air and shade molded itself into two more undead, O’Malley held his breath and tried to soak in the details. There was a familial similarity between the new ones. They shared black hair, slim, graceful builds and slightly hooked noses, but one was nearly a foot taller than the other, taller than O’Malley himself, and the shorter one had much, much darker skin. “Stuart Eberhardt? ” the shorter one said. Eberhardt nodded.

  “You misunderstand. We’re not here for the child. We’re here for you. ”

  Eberhardt smiled, feeling oddly important for a moment.

  “The Keeper was to deliver your last chance. If we arrived and found you here, well, then you are to be ours. I must say, I’m very happy to see you. It’s been difficult controlling ourselves during our visit to this city. ”

  “The girl. What’s to become of her? ” “Brought back to the prince. Not our concern, really. Or to our taste. ”

  With a little growl, Eberhardt let go of the railing and leapt the ten feet to the ground, landing without a sound.

  “Might I persuade you otherwise? ”

  The smaller one shrugged, “Do you possess anything of great value? “

  Eberhardt shook his head, “No. ”

  “Are you much more powerful than you appear to be? ”

  Again, Eberhardt shook his head.

  “Well then, ” the shorter Assamite said, stepping back. Eberhardt braced himself as the taller one came forward and tried to circle behind him.

  “We heard you were an expert in the so-called imbued, ” the tall one sneered in a bass voice, “Are we to assume the human among the garbage is yours? ”

  O’Malley r
ealized he had less than a second to react, so he fired. Eberhardt’s head snapped towards the dumpster. Two rounds discharged, but before the first even reached maximum velocity, its target, the taller Assamite, vanished, leaving the hollow lead to shatter against the brick wall. Tensed and ready for combat, O’Malley lurched out into the alley, gun first, looking for another target, but seeing only Eberhardt. The two, seemingly alone, just stared at each other, each knowing exactly what, if not who, the other was.

  “There’s a girl, ” Eberhardt began, but before he could finish the sentence, the taller Assamite appeared behind him and cupped its hand over his mouth, preparing to twist his head off with one deft, well-practiced move. Again, O’Malley managed to fire twice. The second bullet hit Eberhardt in the shoulder, but the first hit the tall creature’s esophagus, tearing through the bone behind it. It staggered back, shocked that it had been hurt at all, then equally surprised that its head no longer seemed properly attached.

  Recognizing a scant opening, Eberhardt spun and quickly completed the bullet’s work, ripping its head off. Masterless, the body slumped to its knees and pitched fell forward.

  In the darkness, something screamed in utter rage. Without thinking, Eberhardt and O’Malley stood back to back, frantically trying to scan the air for any sign of the remaining predator. The scream came again, but there was no way to locate its source.

  “That’s blood rage, hunter, ” Eberhardt whispered, “We killed his childe. ”

  When an odd shadow seemed to twist against a spot under the fire escape, O’Malley fired at it as he realized it was meant to distract him. As if caught from behind by some gargantuan machine, he was hoisted into the air, then hurled twenty feet into the dumpster. Its metal side buckled from the impact. The dent held his body aloft for a moment, then he rolled and fell the last foot to the alley floor. Through half-closed eyes, O’Malley saw the shorter Assamite clutching Eberhardt by the neck with one hand and shaking him back and forth. Eberhardt’s legs and arms flapped left, then right, depending on which direction the Assamite shook him. Then, as the thought of a new pain to inflict crossed the creature’s mind, he slammed Eberhardt to the ground.

  In a flash, the Assamite’s heavy foot was on Eberhardt’s chest, pinning him. Dizzy, bleeding badly from a scrape in his neck, not at all sure what was happening to him, Eberhardt heard the pained squeak of old metal as the Assamite ripped the dangling ladder from the fire escape. He lifted his head just in time to see the mad assassin plunge the edge of the ladder down towards him.

  The bone in Eberahardt’s thigh crunched as the metal edge drove through him, and deep into the concrete beneath. The Assamite leered at the pinned doctor, leaned down, and again, just screamed. Though terrified by what was happening to him, nearly unconscious from the pain, inside, Eberhardt was locked in weeping for what would happen to the girl.

  Then, all at once, there was a WHOOSH! that sounded half like a strong rush of air and half like metal scraping concrete. The Assamite rocked gently forward and seemed confused. Something had hit his back. Puzzled, he twisted his long arms around, trying to dislodge it, or at least figure out what it was. As his hand made contact with the protruding edge of the incendiary grenade, it exploded. The Assamite did not have time to shout, but Eberhardt wailed as the hot white light seared his photo-sensitive flesh. Random shards of Assamite slapped into the walls, then dropped.

  Two ribs in his back broken, O’Malley let go of the grenade launcher and lapsed into unconsciousness.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but at some point, he woke to the feel of warmth on his cheek. Opening his eyes, he looked out of the alley. Across the street where some shorter townhouses stood, the sky had cleared and the sun was rising. A low moan brought his growing attention back to the alley, where he saw Eberhardt weakly pushing against the metal that held him fast.

  Reaching into his duffel bag, O’Malley picked up a machete and crawled towards Eberhardt. Eberhardt, his face a mask of peeled skin, tried to twist his head towards the hunter, but couldn’t quite manage it. O’Malley leaned over him so he could look into its eyes.

  “Sun’s coming up. Judging from the screams, that’s a painful way to go. I can make it quick for you. ”

  Eberhardt nodded. O’Malley shook his head. “Not yet. Give me Garth Warburton. ” Somehow the doctor managed a laugh as he spat out, “No. ”

  O’Malley didn’t understand.

  “You don’t owe them anything. ”

  “He’s probably as good as dead anyway, and he protected me once. But, listen, there’s a four year old girl living with her parents in 5B. Jessica Simon. She’s a hunter. ”

  O’Malley’s eyes went wide. The pieces finally fell into place.

  “Yes, ” Eberhardt said weakly, “We were all surprised. By now every vampire in the city knows about her. You’ll have to try to protect her. ” O’Malley nodded, “I can make arrangements. ” Eberhardt squirmed as some stronger rays laced over the building-tops. Wisps of smoke curled from the bums on his exposed flesh. Feeling something akin to pity, O’Malley raised his machete and prepared to put Eberhardt out of his misery. “No, ” a child’s voice said.

  Jessica, a Power Puff Girls bathrobe wrapped tightly over her pajamas, her bare feet covered by white bunny rabbit slippers, stood at the front of the alley looking sadly, but calmly on the scene. Oddly embarrassed, O’Malley put the machete down. Ignoring him, she walked over to Eberhardt, sat down in the blood and filth and gently shifted his head into her tiny lap.

  “Do you remember? ” she asked him. Distracted by pain, confused, bemused, but happy to see her, Eberhardt looked into her Yoda eyes. On the rim of one pupil, just where the brown, green and hazel flecks gave way to white, he saw a refraction of light form a small spark. Looking closer, he saw a tiny picture. It was blurry at first, but as his strength faded, it became increasingly clear.

  It was a beach, a sunny day. He was there with his wife and children. The dull ache in the back of his head that generally dogged him in those days had been melted by the giggling of the girls. As he laughed and swung his youngest in the air, he felt release and utter peace.

  Eberhardt’s body lurched, burning. He was again in the alley, daylight searing his flesh, a tiny hand caressing his forehead.

  “Shhhh, ” the child said.

  He saw the picture again, and this time tasted the oxygen the ocean waves churned into the air, felt the sand on the feet of the children and heard their rapid breathing. For a moment the scene reversed. He was on the beach. The alley where he lay dying was just a refraction of light on the tip of a breaking wave.

  Then there was nothing.

  An odd smile played across O’Malley’s face, cracking the already dried blood on his lips. “How did you know to be down here? ”

  A shrug, “I’ve known this would happen for a very long time. ”

  “You foresaw this? ”

  Another nod, then “All of it. ”

  O’Malley tried to get his mind around it. “But, you’re here. If you knew they were coming for you, you could have fled. I mean, if you knew he was going to die anyway, why? ”

  “Because, ” Jessica said, wiping the dust of Dr. Eberhardt from her pajama pants as she stood, “I wanted him to be happy about it. ”

  To: hunter. list@hunter-net. org From: Xterminator306 Subject: Inherit the Earth?

  So what’s with this “Inherit the Earth” crap? I’ve been seeing this plastered all over the place here. A bunch of you folks use it in your sig line (very original, I might add). So I figured I gotta ask. You all throw the phrase around like some kind of secret password or something. So how bout letting the rest of us in on the secret? I’ll let you borrow my secret decoder ring and peek at my dad’s magazines…

  —X

  “Insert sig line. Then rotate. ”

  To: hunter. list@hunter-net. org

  From: Shogun 123

  Subject: Inherit the Earth?

  Geez, the “Xtermina
tor” is going to lecture us on originality… Read the FAQ, daVinci.

  That stands for “Frequently Asked Questions” by the way. Didn’t mean to throw you with more codespeak. Let me spell it out for you. Click Here: http: /www. hunter-net. org/faq. htm

  To: hunter. list@hunter-net. org

  From: Xterminator306

  Subject: Thanks. For nothing.

  What a bonehole. I went ahead and did a search of the archives and managed to dredge up the old “Advocate Debates” from a few years back. I *wish* this process had been as straightforward as clicking a single link. What a big hairy hassle! There are some things about this siteplan that are really arcane and make no kind of sense at all.

  Anyway, that thread seemed to answer most of my questions, except for the obvious one — why the heck are you guys still kicking this worn-out phrase around at all? I mean, I understand about Witness I and his “revelation” from the Messengers. And I can appreciate what he’s trying to do here. I mean, it’s not his fault that this place has turned into such an asshole magnet.

  But could it be that NO ONE here (coughShoguncough) even bothered to do this basic bit of homework before jumping on the Inherit the Earth bandwagon?

  —X

  “Insert katana. Then rotate. ”

  To: hunter. list@hunter-net. org

  From: Cabbie22

  Subject: Archives

  Da huh?

  Xterminator, what the hell are you going on about? This site doesn’t even have archives going back “a few years. ” The whole of hunter-net crashed last year and — well let’s just say that it was thought wise not to restore the older data.

  For that matter, there are damn few of *us* that go back more than a few years. So spill it or clear the bandwidth.

  To: hunter. list@hunter-net. org

  From: Xterminator306

  Subject: Inherit the Earth?

  Sorry, I wasn’t aware I had drifted into ‘codespeak. ’ I’m talking about the archives. A. R. C. H. I. V. E. S. That’s a place where you store old documents. I don’t know anything about the system crash that Cabbie is talking about. Apparently, the sysop cleaned up the corrupted files and dumped them back into the archive. Go to die search screen and type in “Advocate2. ” You could type “Inherit the Earth, ” I suppose, but you’ll get a pretty high noise/signal ratio in your search results.